QUESTIONS OF THE WEAK

What is exactly wrong, in your estimation, with your libido?

My libido is retired. I am just not interested in sex at the moment.
I think I would rather talk to someone. It was just time to seek out
something new.

If you are not meant for big city life (reference "Many Berries 
of Malta"), then what does the near future hold for you, in terms 
of living arrangements?

I plan on living at the Perch until the lease is up (October) After that,
I don't know if I want to move back to the Forgottens or stay until next May
and then move back. Sometimes it's a good idea to see an area for a
complete cycle of seasons.


What happened to Heidi?

She lives. Poorly, yes, but she lives. She is still in the Forgottens,
keeping the area free of crumbs and excess food.

What do all of your tattoos mean?

Neck tattoo: Greater than or equal to, symbol. It's my personal
philosphy.
No one is better than me. They are either equal to me or lesser,
everyone should feel this way.
Right arm: Native Crest, Dance of life, Don Quixote, Infinity symbol
Left arm: Black sun, Compass, Ruler.
Back: Crab, Phoenix
Right Leg: Mermaid
Left Leg: Bullwinkle

What do they all mean? I don't know... But I have more to come.
Look for them in the next year.


While at subway are you already writing in your head or does it just roll out while writing?  

I carry a small notepad. I write down ideas or quotes that I like. Then I sit down to write the blog
and the ideas flow out. I have no real idea what I want to say until I start writing. Usually the
thoughts are a just an idea and I just free form the writing until it's ready to post. Thankfully,
I learned to use spell check and there are enough Danists that know proper grammar whom are
willing to share with me every time I fuck up and that has taught me to go back and grammar
check my posts. It doesn't always work (I know this because I still get emails telling me I'm a
fuck up) but I'm getting better.

I believe the Subway story didn't hit me until much later.

Did you know that when you are out doing something, your blog is clearer?

No, I didn't. But thank you for giving me another reason to anticipate Writer's Block during my
down time.

What happened with you health wise (dizziness, your foot, etc) and are you alright?

I am. I'm overweight, my muscles ache from the labor of the weekend, but basically
I'm okay.

What made you stop smoking, drinking, "womanizing"? 

Smoking - I got the flu and when I woke up from feeling poopy, I didn't smoke any more.
I just ran with it. I miss smoking.... A LOT! But I found that I enjoy smell a lot more, so
I won't start for that reason alone. If I lose that, I'm puffing. It doesn't help that people keep
telling me the story of how they quit for two years and then started again. I fear for my future.

Drinking - I drank too much, which led to many, many problems. So I quit. It was free to
me every night and I loved it too much. It makes me poop the next day and that isn't good
if my next show is a 12 hour drive away and I have to be there NOW. I drink once a year,
with Marcus in Calgary. At a weird little pub in downtown Calgary.

Womanizing - I womaned too much, which led to many, many problems. So I quit. Women
are fun, but there are fewer and fewer good lays left. A lot of talented lovers retired themselves
or the quality just dropped off. The number of options was just getting slimmer and slimmer.
The amount of work compared with the end result was just not worth it. It just makes more
sense to wait for exceptional circumstances and exceptional women.

How did you do it and how do you handle it with your lifestyle?

Easy, Smoking was always there, so was drinking. And chicks dig comics. So I was really in
the best position to be a vice-ladden mad man.

What's up with Peru, any chance in the near future?

Not right at the moment. It still lives as a life goal. That and Tuva, but for now, I have things I
have to do here. I would like to ride down there.

What were you doing the last time that you were sublimely happy (non-sexual)?

I was most likely traveling, watching a movie, writing a story, eating a great meal or talking
with interesting people and/or laughing.

What type of material do you do in your show?

I take common sayings and unspoken issues and I give them levity and a voice. I speak of things
most people find very uncomfortable.

What do you consider your best show ever?  Why? 

My best show.  I don't remember. No comic remembers the best show, just the worst.

Do you have plans for exploring Korea while there and what are they?

I would like to fly to China and explore the great wall and the yellow river valley as it fills with
water. Then i would like to ride up to Mongolia and tour around there for a while.

How do you handle a "bad show" and pull your socks up to do the next? 

Bad shows? When you are young performer, your time on stage is limited and you live for the
next stage appearance, so it's important that it goes well because if you suck, you will have to
live that misery until a good show washes it away. If you don't go back on stage for two weeks,
you're in misery that entire time.

As you get better, you get more time on stage and more frequent appearances. At this time, you
start to notice if you are having more bad or good shows. If you suck more, then you should quit,
if you do well most of the time, you get to move on.(this doesn't always happen and we have
a lot of comics that suck that are still around that live in denial).

When you just have good show after good show after good show, a bad show seems less like
your fault and more circumstantial - the audience was bad, the sound system, lack of sleep, etc.
So you don't carry a bad show with you very long at all. Your ego wipes the slate clean.

If you get to my level and beyond - all shows are good. Even the sucky ones are good.

You've made several blog references to book writing.  about what, how is it going?

I am working on a collection of short stories and I am trying to figure out how to pagenate my
other books on my own using InDesign. Which I have no clue how to use. That is my big hang up
at the moment.

What authors do you like?

Twain is my hero. I wish I could just say his name and walk into the forest with a smile, but I
know you want more... Rand, Hesse, Joyce, Thomas, Eliot, Thoreau, Emerson, LeCarre, Vowel.

What is your all time favorite book?

Presently - The Confederacy of Dunces.

You wanted to do films, what aspect?

Writing, I could care less about the rest.

From ones you've seen which would have been yours or you?

I have no idea what this question means. If you mean what film best represents me; The
Razor's Edge. If you mean, what films would I have done; The Razor's Edge.

How many (hits on the blog) is a good day?

4000.

How are the hits logged, does it help or hurt to may quickie hits?

Views are logged by people coming to the site. The software I have no clue how it works.
Does it help or hurt? I have no idea.

What did you say to your friend after she lost her son?

There is no easy statement you can make. I can't imagine the loss she is experiencing. When
loss happens, the rage is complete and time is the only enemy working against you. I don't
want to be one of the people that makes empty commentary or tries to feed her. I just want her
to last. This pain is eternal.

Do you think you can read minds?

No. I don't claim to be able to, but I do have a very perceptive eye and my mind works in a unique
way that allows me to do complex math equations which determine behavior. It's deductive
reasoning. That's all.

Why do you hate women so much?

I don't HATE women. SO much of my writing that deals with women seems negative because
I know when my female readership reads it they will see the challenge. I don't hate women,
I'm discouraged at their lack of pride and with the women I know I want peace for them. I know
no women that are at peace. There is a pain that each woman carries with them and that pain
is almost always self-inflicted. It's my wish that they will heal that wound and it starts by admiting
or noticing that it's there. Frustration is a big weakness of mine. But give my actions time and
their purpose will show themselves. Most women who know me personally will tell you that I am
a huge pain in the ass to know.

If you don't hate them, why are you so hard on them?

See above. I guess I'm selfish and I want the women that I know that are exceptional to be so.
If I have to be harsh and abrasive to expose the truth, so be it.

Do you think men are any better?

No. Actually, as I have said before - Men are trolls, tools and toys. Tell them what to do, and tell
them why - they'll do it. Need something done - they'll do it. Need someone to entertain you - they'll
do it. Where we see so many problems between men and women is in the DOM-SUB role play.
History made women subs and it's hard to escape that. (women love to be chased and
"manhandled") But when women challenged that more, an internal conflict began. This led to a
social conflict and now it's just an annoying topic that people talk about from time to time.
However, women still love to be "taken", even if it is by a tool.

Please explain your math?

I don't have a short answer for my mental math. I wish I could make you understand. It involves
massive amounts of variables. I don't mean ten or twenty, but hundreds and thousands. All of
which need to be factored and ratio-ed before you can make an assesment. And it all has to
happen in less than a moment.

What other movies do you recommend?

In what catagory? I could review movies all day. I really could. What are you looking for
in a movie? I can give you a must see list or a few in a specific catagory. I wouldn't make
a personal list and include a lot of films that might piss you off, so give me an idea of what
kind of films entertained you in the past. Let's start with "Amelie"...

What books do you recommend?

Life lessons? Fluff? Murder Mystery? Educational? Sexual? Who are you?

Where is your favorite place on earth?

It has changed over the years, but when I think about it, Oswald State Park on the Oregon
Coast is my favorite place on earth. My ashes should be spread there.

Are you sad?

Yes. Often. But I am blissfully happy too. So I embrace it all.

When can we expect the books and the cds?

I am trying to get them out right now. Does anyone know how to use InDesign? Imic?

What kind of typewriters(do you collect)?

I have Royals, Underwoods, Remingtons, Smith Coronas, Tippas, Websters, Olympics...( Photos
coming soon.)

When did this start(collecting typewriters)?

I started the typewriter thing when I saw that my father's (chuck) typewriter was full of his cigarette
ashes and food crumbs. In order to preserve his memory, I bought another typewriter, loved it
and bought another... and then another.... IF you see a MANUAL typewriter in your town...
BUY IT FOR ME!!!!! I will pay you back if you don't spend a zillion dollars on it.

How many do you have now?

13 (with five more in processing)

What do you plan on doing with them?

Cleaning them, fixing them, writing on them. And staring at their beauty like I would stare at a
woman with a beautiful laugh.

Where do you find them?

On line. Goodwill. Garage Sales. Second hand stores.

Do you think the death of your friend's son will affect your humor?

Only if my friend is in the audience. If not, then no.  For her and a few others, I would be willing to
censor my show. I know she would only come to the show for laughter and I don't think my
sense of artistic integrity out weighs my desire to be a good friend to her at this time.

Have you ever censored your show for someone?

Yes, My father (bill) came to a show and I was as clean as clean gets. Christians would have
thought me to be a saint. And I have also changed my show to do corporate shows for MONEY!

Are you scared of falling off (of my bike)?

No. I was scared of a lot of things at first, but now, I enjoy the experience and I can't
wait for longer rides in the country. Sadly, in city riding is a lot of stop and go and it sucks.

Who are your favorite poets?

Eliot, Thomas, Whitman, Sanders, Dickinson.

Who are your favorite artists?

Picaso, Homer, Lempica, Basquiat, Seuss

Who are your favorite actors?

See Caine/Murray award winners post.

Where did you hear of that dog poem?

It's on a statue in Warrensburg, Missouri. I first saw it as a kid when I went to visit family in the
Knob Noster, Missouri cemetery. Yes, that's where my southern family is from. And it's not
a poem, it's a closing statement to a jury. (George Graham Vest)

Do you read the bible?

I have read it a couple of times. I read it backwards not too long ago. I own five bibles, two
Korans, a Book of Mormon (with my name on it) a book of budhist teachings, and I am a Daoist.

When are you going to stop writing the blog?

October.

What is your favorite television show?

Frontline or Family Guy.

Who is your favorite musician?

Stevie Ray Vaughnn, U2, Concrete Blonde, The Cowboy Junkies or Charles Mingus.

How many people do you think you have slept with your entire life?

I am going to answer this time, only because the question sounds so odd. You mean my
ENTIRE life? Not just a part of it...

Last count... 1450- ish people in 16 years. (÷/- 20 people)

Do you think that that makes you a pro?

A pro? No. What it says is different to different people. Some people would think it sad, others
would think it amazing or awesome. Still others would see it as sinful or self-destructive.

I say this... Everyone has a picture they aren't proud to be in, but instead of throwing it away
we keep it for another person to see.

What I like most about this question is that you asked this question thinking the number was
going to be low and therefore make your second question look more profound. I should have
just crushed your little soul under my wraith, but I am trying to be fair this year. You escaped.

That's it. Again, another perfect opportunity to get to know Daniel has come and gone. The questions about posts
were not on the menu this time around... Did you people stop reading them?

I appreciate your feedback.

when the words fail you

I have never met most of my readers, yet I know a great deal about their lives. I know what their families are like, where they live, whom they love, what they do for a living and sometimes, what their fantasies are. I know all of this through emails that they send me and I will admit that they are a guilty pleasure to read. I will admit to getting some of the information mixed up with other people's, but I try to keep it all straight when I can. I have lived the ups and downs of many of the reader's lives and I have tried to be there whenever they have called upon me. I feel that if nothing else ever comes from my life, I can say that I was, THERE.

Today, in a normal correspondence; a good friend from the Forgottens informed me that her youngest son passed away from carbon monoxide poisoning during the holiday weekend. Her guilt and her loss are complete. There is nothing she can do to find any words to express the shock other than to say, "My baby is dead". Her son was in elementary school. (This comes six short months after the loss of her mother)

This email knocked me down. Regardless of how coarse my exterior appears to be and how tempered and hard my interior might be, I am very compassionate towards the lament of those I love and care for. I don't begin to think that I know her pain, but I can't escape the feelings of loss that accompany her now. My mouth has fallen still and my fingers are frozen above the keyboard....

In this moment... I have no words. Nothing I can say satisfies my feelings of sorrow. This isn't my loss. But I am human and I must try to bear some of the burden as I feel it will relieve some of the pain from my loved one. I will not wear the scar, but I can feel the pain.

"What do I do now?" she asked. I don't know... And not knowing what to say in response is an even bigger pain as I feel I am letting her down in her biggest moment of need.

Her mother died this past winter and I did what I could to help. She worked through it but was still a little broken up this past Mother's Day. She's a strong woman and she has survived a difficult divorce and still maintained a home, her job and her health through it all. She has powers that many of us would be envious of. I hope they find her now.

The best advice I have for her is to embrace her eldest son and her father. Use your combined strengths to help get through this hard time together. I am not sure that the loss of a child is something that I could understand in any terms presented to me. So I have to use the tone of her choosen words to sense it. Even then, I only feel that I am getting just a pinch.

When my father (Chuck) died, it took a year to recover from it. It was so incredibly painful that first week that I couldn't stop the anguish from overcoming me at every turn. Everything was wrapped up in my pain. It wasn't until a few months of solitude had passed that I started to address my feelings. It started with me talking outloud to his soul and memory. I was touring extensively in my car and it helped that no one was around to see it happen or try to offer advice. Suffering is often a solitary emotion and no two people are alike in their sorrow. As much as you want to express your rage, doing so only enrages you as you don't feel they get it or you're tired of people trying to save you. You just want to let it out! The injustice! The unaswered questions! The stories left without endings!

I drove for weeks all across America's arterials, I spent that time talking to him, remembering him and crawling out from underneath the heavy rock that fell on me when he died. It's been seven years or so since he passed away and I still miss him. The pain remains, but now it's manageable pain. Sometimes it's nice to talk about him, other times I just smile and let it go. My experience was a solitary one, nothing I can say about it will let you in on that experience. If you asked me if there was a method to moving on I would have to be honest and say - No.

As many of you might remember, the editor of the Book Of Daniel lost a loved one about a year and a half ago. Her life changed completely from the experience. Her attitudes, her lifestyle and her beliefs about a lot of things are all new and she left the Forgottens for a Yoga commune in Greece. "I'm having the best time of my life," she said in her last email to me. Does her pain remain? Absolutely. I doubt that I will ever know her without it. But I can see that she can still enjoy life and feel pleasure. It's just not the same anymore. In some ways the pain is distracting to her. But when she sees the pleasure, it's far greater in scope and meaning, her loss brought on a larger horizon for her to gaze upon.

I am filled with anguish today and I have no words to express it. I have no idea what to say to my friend and I don't want to begin to believe that there is anything I could say. Words are very powerful and sometimes the absence of words can be the most powerful statement you can make.

Out of respect for my good friend Pam....

the religious freedoms of females

I am addressing this topic as I have been overwhelmed with the number of blogs that readers have started and whom have asked me to read it for advice or whatever. I usually try to hold back from reading a new blog until I know the writer is serious about it and this means I wait for a week or two and then check it out. If they post every day and it doesn't look too bad, I will check back again in another two weeks and check again. At that time, the honest bloggers have made themselves known and the rest have abandon their work and usually never return. I enjoy passionate writers and their work shows their passion. I also enjoy a dedicated and disciplined writer that doesn't abandon the writing process because it's convenient to do so. Even when I got sick, I had someone step in and write for me. I know how important it is to offer something up. It's hard, but you have to do it. That's discipline. That's a good writer.

I enjoy reading and would normally not be so opposed to an offer to read another's material, but with most blogs (as was the case with mine) you need a few good months of posting before you see some real quality stuff. It's not that the writer isn't talented, but it can take a while before the true raw nature of their words find their voice. Most writers tend to be systematic at first and write a biography or talk about all the little things they enjoy or hate. Most blogs have a list of favorite things and least favorite things within the first few days. A new blog might have four posts in one day. The posts vary in size from a one sentence, "I ain't got nothing to say today, check back later" to a novel that seems to be therapeutic. "Poppa touched me and Momma hit me and I started drinking and I wrecked my car and I got in a fight and I hated my teachers...." These posts are entertaining and they aren't supposed to be.

Since I started this blog in October of 2004;

Two people had blogs before me that still have one. Although one of them left Blogspot for a web site and I doubt that he reads mine anymore. Marcus still has his (marcusmouse.blogspot.com)

19 people have started a blog on their own and still post on it today.
6 people I asked to start a blog. 3 still do.
142 people have started a blog only to abandon it after less than ten posts.
52 people have blogs that exist on other sites and have one central theme to them - SEX.

Of those 18 sexually themed blogs, none of them are written by men.

I don't know what blogs are good for. I don't know what makes one good and another bad. Why is one dull, lifeless blog so popular(Dlisted.blogspot.com) and another creative, talented and informative blog(strike-the-root.com) abandoned to obscurity. I have read the blogs written by famous people. I have read the ones written by corporations for whatever reason. I have even read from the top five blogs which people read everyday. In all of this, there is no common denominator that links success rate to content. This is a good and bad thing. I like that not many blogs stick to a set of rules or guidelines. That keeps the internet free and open; What you can say, when you post or how often, proper grammar usage and motivation, that's all unmonitored and that's healthy in writing. The only dark side to chaos is that it makes blogging purely entertainment and not journalism or valid. This argument will always hang over the blogger's head. Someone trying to make a statement or inform will always be grouped with a gossip artist or diet-logger.

I started my blog as a way to consolidate my letter writing that was consuming a full day of each week. I was able to take 20 letters and focus them down into one. It saved me time, stamps and my hands, fingers and wrists appreciated the relief. I think my friends were a little put out by the change. I think they really enjoyed the personal nature of a handwritten letter and after my blog started to take off, I think they could sense that the posts, which were supposed to be their letters, had abandon their original format and had taken on a new life. One more widely available to others. Half of the original 20 or so people that I used to write to, do not read my blog today, or only read it when they have a chance. I can sense from their emails that it's not the same. That sentiment seems to be true for a lot of my readers. "I usually read it once a week and try to catch up on everything I missed." I have heard this from hundreds of people.

MONDAY is when the readership is highest.
The readership drops to one-third on SATURDAY and SUNDAY.
I had one day where only 200 people read the post. The lowest number since I first started.

Women ask me to read their blogs (or I discover their blog somehow) and I find that most of their blogs are about sexual conquests, sexual discovery, sexual recovery, or rhetorical one-sided debates about sexual politics. For a while, I didn't mind that every woman I knew wanted to talk about sex. It's kinda nice to see that women are just as perverted and slutty as men are. That knowledge lifted a huge burden off my back. However, the content of each blog tended to be repetitive. I don't mean from blog to blog, but from post to post. The women, depending on their mood, expressed the same sentiment in each post.

Most common themes found in sexually dominated blogs:

Saw hot boy, didn't talk to him.
Lust after famous boy, here's why.
First time.
Best time.
Darkest moment.
Oddest fetish or fantasy.
My ongoing seduction of some hot boy.
Fascination with boy's behavior pre and post coital.
The look on mens' faces
My fancy new toy/outfit.

But why? Why so much interest in sex and why publish it online?

In the chaos math equation for this particular psychology - Women in said society and in said time frame, have been subjected to repression and mental manipulation to believe that sexuality is something that they should repress or be ashamed of and that only bad, naughty, sinful, disgusting women talk about, desire or enjoy sex. Especially as it pertains to sex with more than one man, one woman, inanimate objects or in imagination.

Thusly...

When a woman in regards to factors of personal strength, position, intelligence, or comfort, discovers the system to which she has been subjected and decides to rebel against it (righteously so) she will strike out in any means necessary and without regard to reaction. Which is the biggest revolt against said system. However, with little to no structure or real role models and depending on how ingrained the belief system was before the enlightenment, the woman can experience set backs in her expression. Her behavior may back fire against her and her own mind might judge her. This can create an even darker sense of self, which is a fail safe that was set in place by the system which she is not aware of. For those that overcome this self imprisonment and sense of isolation, there is solace. For those that do not overcome it, they write poetry, drink a lot of booze and become teachers.

Bless the gal that sees the light.

It's enjoyable to read of someone's sexual exploits. It's fun to imagine what they are doing, and it's fun to get worked up over a good story and laugh at a funny one. However... it's hard to forget that the person writing these is also more than just a lollipop for our pleasure.

Number of female penned blogs that I know of that are not sexual - 4
Number of female penned blogs that I know of that are sexual - 81

I read all four non sexual and I read a dozen or so of the sexual ones. The non sexual ones are funny and reveal a lot about the writer in their world. The sexual ones I read are because the writers are incredibly talented and their writing demands that I read them. Their blogs could be about snot collection and I would read them. If they are reading this today I beg of you - Tell me more than just one side of your day. It's getting stale to hear about sex all the time. I guess if your sex life was more creative than most, it would be something... but every woman that blogs has the same sex life. I do not mean to deflate your pursuit, but it would be nice to read about a shy woman that likes crossword puzzles and flannel that also likes to sometimes dress up like a banshee and eat men. If you leave out the crossword puzzle and flannel, then I miss half of the story.

Thank the Gods that men don't blog about their sex lives. You don't know dullness like a man spewing out his stories. Men tend to sound like a small child explaining a roller coaster ride, "And then it went really, really fast... And then there was a loopy thing... And then we went, WOOOO and WOOOO and then VRROOMMMMM.... It was killer!" So perhaps I shouldn't be so tactless about my comments. Without women, we wouldn't have erotica at all. (Henry Miller, Marquis De Sade and Bill O'Reilly excluded)

get your rocks off

Learnin'.

It's a part of livin'.

I have spent the past few days back in Tacoma helping some friends out on a home improvement project. They recently bought a house and it was in need of some remodeling so they asked a bunch of comics if they would come and help them out. The majority of the work is demolition, which appeals to the darker side of man's soul. Comics are all dark souled individuals so you would think they would have climbed all over themselves to get in on the action.

I am the only comic that showed up. A statement of my character? Or a statement about the laziness of the comics in this general area?

So the crew that showed up is made up of the man of the house(the husband), the wife and one 19 year former weight lifting champion. Her name is Abby. She's a friend of the family.

The first day of work was fence removal(chain link and six foot rough cedar panel) and some trash pick up and it kicked my ass. Abby apparently didn't know what she had gotten herself into with all this work, but she was a sport about it. She faced her fear of spiders to get the job done and that's all you can ask of someone under these circumstances. The husband and wife disappeared midway through the first day and only reappeared after a three hour absence. This left Abby and me to do the majority of the work and we looked like death when 5 o'clock rolled around.

The second day the crew grew to a full staff of three young men, Abby, the husband and myself. The wife backed out and decided that instead of laboring hard in the yard that she would rather go work out... Power lifting. Abby gave in and went with her. This left me with three boys and the husband for the hardest work of the demolition - the concrete removal.

Supervising young men who are working in miserable conditions is a job in and of itself. You're not their boss, but you are trying to keep them focused on getting the job done. You also have to keep their minds on the job to keep them safe for their own good, which is an issue that they constantly want to argue with you. You're trying to keep them busy, teach them how to use dangerous equipment(which they love) and keep them motivated on getting a difficult job done without walking away. Their attitudes aren't ideal for this kind of heavy demolition, but you need them to do the little shit work that generally slows down the whole process if the jackhammer operator has to stop and do it.

The work on the second day was almost completely cement removal. One jackhammer, one pry bar and three wheelbarrels. Two old men and three young indestructible youths all in a constant state of frenetic motion. We look like angry ants after their ant hill was wiped off the earth by a malicious sneaker. I'm on the jackhammer because I am the only one that has used one before. The husband is on the pry bar and the boys are removal. Periodically, I let one of the boys run the jackhammer so they feel like they have fucked something up, a feeling all boys enjoy.

Early in the day, I am cutting out large chunks of concrete for the boys to drag out. It's killing them and I can tell that it's wearing them out. It seems to be taking more and more time for them to return after dumping a load off. I blame their dip in energy on a lack of enthusiasm and I caught myself resenting their presence. It's an old habit that I carry around about equality on the job front. I'm sure many of you hate the fact that there is someone where you work that does less or is incompetent, and they get paid more. It's a painful and childish feeling to get angry and I am working on getting beyond it. It was good that it showed up during all this crazy work. I was forced to forget about my personal problem and get back to the job.

I gave up the control of the jackhammer to one of the boys and I started carrying the chunks of freshly cut up concrete to the wheelbarrel and then out to the dumpster. After a few moments (four minutes, thirty-two seconds) I started hating concrete and that bastard kid for cutting the pieces so small. My back was going out, I was overheating, I was cutting myself up and I could barely stand to be alive...

So I took the jackhammer back and sent the kid back to the miserable job. However, this time around, I noticed that I was cutting the pieces smaller than I had before. The only reason I mention this is because I could now see why the kids were so hard to motivate before - I was killing them with my huge chunks of concrete. I was making less work for me and more work for them. All of my best intentions were being undermined by... ME!

The young boys left at midday and the job of demolition fell squarely on the shoulders of two middle-aged men. We did all we could but we ran out of places to put the chunks of refuse, so we moved on to the REAL demolition that we had been saving for last - a small shack that needed to come down.

It took some thought, but we faked it, and that building came down by sheer force of will. Having conquered the achievement and pride of someone's hard work of twenty years ago, we stood around like Gods and felt good about ourselves in a low class kind of way. My mind was lost in the rapture of my efforts but my body felt differently. It's the same dynamic someone who just dug his way out of prison must feel. Nothing but your pride and your visions of the future, feel good.

The day ended and my crippled body made it's way home, crawled into a tub and fell asleep as soon as I hit the water.

The final day of the destruction found me just working with the husband. Everything on my body hurt so badly that I couldn't even close my fingers to make a fist or bend my knees to sit on a toilet or find the strength to get back up off the toilet when I finished. It's just pure pain everywhere. He feels the same and we look like two over-weight palsey victims, wearing plaid and trying to look cool. You would never know that these two giants were responsible for the destruction of a small shack just the day before.

We decided that this would be a good day to run the chain saw...

Chain saw operation requires some strength, a good grip, some ability to hold a heavy vibrating object for long periods of time at arms length and some technical gripping and pulling ability. None of this I have. He doesn't want to try.

Another key component of chain saw use is leg strength. When you cut down a tree, it's important that you're not standing below it or your labor might fall and crush you. Running away is often the best way to guarantee that this doesn't happen. Having crippled legs is a bad thing... But I love using a chain saw and I can't go from conqueror to submissive in 24 hours. I will admit that I screamed like Patrick Bateman while using the chain saw. I did it for effect, and I did it to keep my mind off the pain.

I lasted half the day before my body quit. However, in that time,I downed every tree in sight and a few that didn't require a two foot chain saw to bring down. I chopped everything into tiny little pieces and then, covered in sawdust... I crawled home.

This I know - for the record - When it's your turn to cut rocks, cut them into sizes that you would carry. When working with young men, make them believe what they are doing will get them home or laid. When in pain, the only path to pleasure is a more determinate painful trek. Your pride and your glory is another man's weekend headache.

it's your asphalt

Two men. Born on the same day, in the same hospital, in the same room, at the same time, by the same staff, with the same amount of relatives present who are equal in every way. (I think you get the idea.)

These two men grow up in the same town, with the same teachers, the same friends, the same opportunities, the same kind of love and the same limitations.

They are, in every way, equal.

On the same day, on the same road, in similar cars, both men are driving in the same direction, at the same time. One is in the left lane and the other is in next lane over. However! The man in the right lane finds his lane full of slower drivers and he quickly falls behind the other man in the left lane, who's lane is moving along swiftly.

The man in the right lane feels that life has treated him wrong. Life has screwed him and this always happens to him. He's sure of it. His frustration is complete.

It would seem that the only time you notice your choices, or your fate or your luck is when these things seem to be working against you. I'm sure everyone feels that they are cursed every time they pick the slow line at the bank or at the grocery store. The question I have is - When you do get the fast lane or the effecient line, do you feel lucky, blessed or special?

It's a special kind of torture that we inflict on ourselves when life seems to do us wrong. We can look at the blessed few that live the world of rapid fire lines that are just to our left and right and wonder, "Why"? Why should they be so lucky while I suffer so? Even in the story of the two men in seemingly identical worlds, the man in the right lane is asking the gods why they have foresaken him. What did he do to deserve this?

It's in our nature to feel that our world should run according to our rules at all times. We rebel against "fate" everytime she forgets to bless us. (Do you remember the post regarding how we are the only real drivers on the road and that everyone else is an idiot, not us?) How often have you argued with someone about something you know nothing about and they are practically ARE the knowledge. (screaming at a nurse for not treating a friend or loved one the way you would... This happens a lot.)

Everyone's world is riddled with bad luck. It may not be as obvious to you how much bad luck other people have, but that's because you aren't paying attention to their life, are you? You selfish bastard! Even my world suffers from a perpetual curse which I can't explain: I have visited more than my fair share of Subway restaurants in my day, and I have seen all sorts of service in that time. I have seen quick sandwich artists, the pleasant, the generous and the outrageous artists. It's these artists sandwiches that make me want to eat at Subway, time and time again. However, the sandwiches I remember the most and the ones that make me feel unloved by the gods are the ones that I have eaten made from the dim-witted, the dull, the just-out-of-rehab, the sandwich-phobic and the cash machine inept "artists". I know I am staring off into the great void that is my future and I wonder out loud, "why, oh why, have the sandwich gods placed so many crap sandwich artists in my path." Life just likes to torture me. [side note: it's these same degenerate sandwich artists that grow up to run banks and grocery stores]

Is it karma, or is my life really cursed? How come I don't feel blessed when the sandwich is perfect? Why do I feel this overwhelming urge to assault the lady with four items in her grocery cart who is standing in line in front of me and taking forty minutes to pay for them?

Two men born into equal lives... Both will suffer the great misfortune of knowing that life isn't always perfect. But one will take it personally.

an orderly line

Questions Of The Weak is returning for a spring session so get your questions in now. I would say you have a lot of source material to cover so don't delay. You might want to read back a few posts to see if there is a lingering question or concern from a post, two months ago. You may have more than one question, go ahead and ask.

Here are the submission rules:

1. No Book of Question, questions. If you are not familiar with what I am talking about they are the questions like; "You find out you have ten days to live, what do you do?" or "You find a wallet on the street, do you return it?" I ask that the questions you submit not be so hokey.

2. You must ask questions that you want to know the answer to. No asking a question like, "Do you like me?" and then expect emotional stability to follow.

3. You are not special in blogworld and your personal relationship with me does not circumvent this process. If there is something you want to know, it's fair for everyone to know the answer. If you don't ask your questions here, I will not answer them personally. Fair is fair(so sayeth Billy Jean). I know in the past many of you have been pretty pissed off about me printing personal questions that you've asked, but them's the rules. Everyone gets to share the information.

4. No magic fonts, no magic colors. Just plain text please. Break this rule, I won't answer the questions.

5. Please let me know who you are and where you are. No more anonymous questions. Break this rule, I won't answer the questions.

6. Be brief. No long winded emails with one question at the end. Nor do I wish to have a ton of questions scattered through out a novel. Just the questions.

That's it.

So feel free to submit any questions that you might have. I know that many of you have been pretty touched or moved or pissed off by some of this years posts, yet it seems you would rather stew in your misery than approach the topic with me. That's very unhealthy. And I know a lot of you have questions about the trips abroad or with my move, so go ahead and ask them now, I will answer them.

If you wish, I will include a Comments Of The Weak the following day if I get enough of them. I ask that you follow the same rules as above when applicable. Any and all comments will get posted.

Note to all you readers that read this blog without question or comment: I'm not a TV, you can interact with me. Your silence is spooky to me. Who are you out there???

fourth level magic user

I stopped breathing last night.

I went to see "Over the Hedge" and it almost killed me. I haven't laughed so hard at a movie in years. It was truly funny. I am not always big on watching a cartoon in the theater preferring to wait until they come out on DVD to watch them, but this one called out to me. That "call" was mostly William Shatner who was cast as a overly dramatic Possum and the knowledge that his comedy "street cred" is high at the moment.

But he wasn't the passion in this film. He was great, but he didn't stop my heart.

The film is about a bunch of animals that awake from hibernation to find that their world has been surrounded by annoying and invasive, urban sprawl. The real "plot" of the film has something to do with food gathering but that's just a silly notion to keep the film viable. The characters come from a daily comic strip and I'm sure that the creator doesn't write each four box story about food gathering (leave that to the Garfields of the world). The real story here is the animals themselves. Any plot would have worked here and anticipate a sequel in the near future.

Starring in this cartoon is Bruce Willis, as a Judas Raccoon. His performance is neither here nor there, but he does fine, but anyone could have done this role. Garry Shandling, as a nurturing Turtle, and he fits the role perfectly. It works well. Wanda Sykes, as a sassy Skunk. She is terribly underused in this film, but when her turn to shine comes up near the end of the film, she tears it up. Expect more of her in the sequel. William Shatner and Avril Lavigne are a father-daughter pair of Possums. Shatner is perfect and exactly what I wanted from him. Avril... Not sure why she's there, but she does fit the part. I think she was underused, and slightly typecasted. It's a shame, I know Avril is trying to break out of that kid thing. We'll see what becomes of her. Eugene Levy and Catherine O'hara are Hedgehogs/Porcupines with three kids. They play it like they are a modest couple from Minnesota and it works for them. The residual characters are played by Nick Nolte as a bear, Katie Segal as a home owner and Thomas Hayden Church as a pest control agent. Their roles are fine, and they do their parts well.

BUT...

This film belongs to STEVE CARELL!!!

He not only steals this film, he is the film. His role as a hyper-active ADHD squirrel is played to perfection and it's just a voice over role. Even as a cartoon, Steve Carell is hysterical. I'll make this offer to you - See the film, if his moment in the film (and you will know his "moment" in the film is) doesn't cause you to stop breathing from laughing so hard, then I will send you a refund for the ticket. I won't build up his moment too much as I want you to enjoy it but let's say it's powerful funny stuff and you might pee yourself - you have been warned.

Steve Carell has not really been able to bust the big bubble of film stardom just yet. He has the television show, The Office, but that's a remake of a really popular British show and those in the know are not all that pleased with this sub-par remake. It's not Steve's fault, it's just never a good idea to remake Star Wars, if you get my drift.

I would hate to think of Steve as just the new "it" boy of comedy in Hollywood at the moment. If you look at the trends, it would appear that we are due for a new one and Steve is coming along at just the right time. I hope he sticks around and makes some good choices, it would be a shame to see what happened to the former boys, happen to him. The former "it" boys fail us so much that their films actually pain us; Robin Williams finally won an oscar, but his humor is so bad that he makes you wish he was still on coke and stealing jokes. Jim Carrey is destined to be the next great straight-to-video comedy star. Will Farrell has finally worn out his welcome and people are done with him. It's rumored that he is supposed to star in "The Confederacy of Dunces" which is my third favorite book of all time, if he screws it up - I'll kill him. Adam Sandler has shit in his own mouth so many times now, that most of us have forgotten he's still alive. Ben Stiller is so annoying that there are few roles he can find that soften him up enough for human consumption. When he does find a role, he needs Owen Wilson to soften up the film even further to insure that it's palatable. (and vice versa)

It would seem that Steve is set to take the stage for a while and hopefully he will bring us laughter for a long time. He has a few films in the works; "Evan Almighty" which takes over the reigns from Jim Carrey's "Bruce Almighty". "Get Smart" the remake of the old television show. And "Dan in Real Life", not mine.

For now, you have "Over the Hedge" and I suggest you see it. It's a kid's film and I warn you ahead of time - there will be some youngin's in the theater. Unless you go to a late, late show, but then you will have to put up with stoned teenagers/college kids. Your choice, but they are equally annoying to watch films with(this is why I rarely watch a cartoon in the theater). You feel better about hitting a kid, but you get in less trouble if you hit a teenager/college kid.

Now that we are on the subject - What happened to Greg Kinnear?

many berries of malta

My stomach hurts. It's making it hard to fall asleep and I need the sleep. I've been laying here for a close to an hour without being able to find a wink and it's beginning to annoy me. I've turned over the pillow twice seeking cooler conditions. I have also shuffled my body so that one leg is under the blanket and the other is left hanging out in the open so that I might be able to regulate my body temperature. It's a creative theory, but it's not much help and I'm suffering. I'm half tempted to turn the air conditioner on, but it's unplugged and it looks like it needs servicing before being plugged back in. There is only one tiny window in this room and I have it open. It's letting in cool air, but it's also letting in a lot of noise. It's raining outside and I can hear the heavy rains assaulting the pavement outside. Only a few yards from the motel is a train track and twice an hour, a train roars through town without slowing below 80 MPH. Not being able to find a comfortable peace, I have tried to bore myself by trying to figure out which way the trains are heading without seeming them pass.

I can't sleep and my stomach hurts.

Early in the evening, I was sitting at the bar waiting for the last show of the tour. The show was supposed to start at 8 but there was a NASCAR race that was running late due to some accidents and the owners of the bar were not going to start the show until after the race ended. There was a real fear that the locals would riot if their beloved racing was turned off. I have had shows where the tv WAS turned off and it's brutal. I still feel the pain.

At the other end of the bar, the opener was going through the motions of preparing for his portion of the show. I can see that he's tense and upset because with every lap of the race has come a new accident and time seems to be getting away from us. Each time the race stops he has to turn off his preparation and then turn it back on when things get rolling again. When 9:30 rolled around it was decided that we should just go for it even though the race hadn't ended yet. I thought that the longer we delayed and the closer the race came to completion the harder it was going to be get the audience to watch the show without harming us. The decision was made to go for it and we did. The TV's were turned off and the room full into a rage. I still wanted to go for it.

The MC walked on stage and turned on a jukebox which was connected to the buildings sound system. In all my days of performing, I have never seen this. The MC then turned on the wireless mic and as soon as he flipped the switch, a huge squeal of feedback tore through the room. This caused the already enraged drunks to riot. The mic was fried. The MC motioned to some people in the audience and people rushed to his aide. There was some head scratching and some debate.

My stomach hurt.

The owner called the guy that owned the Radio Shack that was next door to the bar. That guy came, opened up his shop, picked up a new mic and brought it down to the show. The feedback problem was figured it and the show was started again, for the second time. The miracle here was that from the mic blowing up to the restart of the show, only fifteen minutes had past. An amazing feat for the entertainment industry or in any industry.

The TV had been turned on during our intermission and the race was still on, when the show restarted the crowd again felt that they were being punished with a comedy show. The opener was introduced to a restless crowd and the mic started to argue with him. His entire set was beset with cut-outs and static that chewed up most of his punchlines. He did his 35 minutes and walked off without incident, however there was a moment in his show where I thought the end was near. He said something to the affect that NASCAR fans were all hillbillies and losers and were costing him money at the pump. I thought that he was either looking for a fight and wanted a beating or really brave and staying the true course of artistic expression, OR he was just terribly stupid. One thing was for sure. He wasn't getting laid in this town.

I took the stage, did my show and was surprised when it went well. However, when I said goodbye it was well after midnight - some 2 and a half hours later than I should have. The crowd was so drunk that I don't think they clapped when I got off stage, they just all piled out the door as fast as they could.

Two guys from the front row decided that they would ride their motorcycle in to and then out of, the bar. Everyone thought that was extremely funny.

My stomach hurt.

I walked back to my room with some good memories of the show, the tour and the colorful people of Malta. For some reason, I really liked this place and I didn't like the fact that I turning in so early.

It's a small community that struggles to stay viable in a big busy world. The people here have ever reason to leave this town but instead stay. And they stay for the same reason that we all share about our towns - They love their home and aren't going to leave just because things are getting tough. Even with the world crashing down around them, they stay. There are no real jobs here and there is no real hope of any coming any time soon. And yet, they stay. There is no Wal-mart here and there never will be. There is only a dollar store and a few pharmacies. But that's enough. In fact, the only reminder that the rest of the world still exists outside of the confines of these four small streets, is the loud rumbling train that tears through town twice an hour. It doesn't slow down at all because it doesn't acknowledge that the town is there either.

The streets were quiet without a soul in sight. I was walking briskly toward my room, but slowed down because I felt that I needed to soak up the town for a few more minutes. It was raining lightly and it felt like the rain falling on my head was trying to wash away something. I stood in the rain for quite a while, but I knew that I couldn't stay out here forever and I headed off to my room.

I was in my room and my stomach hurt.

I've been lying in bed for two hours and I can't sleep. The pillow trick has worn out it's novelty and having one leg out of the blankets feels indecent and unsafe(monsters!!!) At some point, the opening act pulled in and he we went to his room next door.. WITH A GIRL!!! From the sound of it, they have a pretty good time over there. In fact, their good time encourages me to have a good time, all by myself.

And miraculously, that puts me to sleep.

I drift off to sleep thinking about, of all things, the Forgotten Mountains. I'm thinking about the small town that I embraced and embraced me for the past three years. I think about how much I miss them. I drift off with an understanding that I am not designed for city life at all and that what has been bothering me was that I belonged in a community just like Malta. Even with all the modern conveniences of a city and the endless options that are available to you there, a small town is where my heart fills the largest. The few moments I have spent in this forgotten town on the Montana prairie have reminded me of what is really important to me. What I really need. I guess what we expect life to be is never what we really need from it. I see now that I need the comfort of the Forgottens. I will stick out this year at the Perch before I return to the Forgottens, but I have been handed a gift of clarity. It's this difficult realization that has been turning my stomach. The more time I spend around the people of Malta, the more I miss the denizens of the Forgottens. It was their willingness to assist each other in a time of need that stuck with me. It was the first name basis that each person in the bar had with each other. It was the all-for-one/one-for-all-ness that endeared these people to me. It was a painful realization and it turned my stomach.

I can't sleep in Malta, Montana because if I fall asleep that means that the end is near. However, with my departure from this catharsis comes the knowledge that my return to the Forgottens is near.

ephesians 4:29

It's so tempting to give in to my anger. In the past the sentiment has been so gratifying to embrace that I have always just given in without giving it much thought. However, I never feel that gratification for more than a few moments before it turns into an ulcer.

So, apparently, there is still rage left inside of me that needs working out. It would seem that there is still a bit of thinking and adjusting to be done regarding the system in my head. The riding, writing and wandering have all been incredibly theraputic for me and I can't say enough about all the bliss that they consistently bring me. Having said that, I can't begin to describe how discouraging it is that a little germ of irritation can creep inside my head and rob me of a full day of cheer. I can be enjoying a great day, thinking of a long bike ride or a powerful piece of writing. And while I am lost in my happy head and looking out at a warm glow on the horizon, a dark cloud of ugly memory can creep up and ruin the view.

As I write this, I sit in a very small hotel in Malta, Montana. It's an idyllic town if you are looking for a small town that exists 223 miles from the nearest Wal Mart. The town itself is no larger than a few short streets, some great looking empty buildings and a rarely used train station. I'm not sure of the population, but I'm sure the numbers are off if they don't count the farmers and ranchers that live within a 60 mile radius. There are no cars here, only trucks. No packed sidewalks or jammed up intersections. The only places to spend your money here is at one of two bars, a few general store/pharmacies and a gas station that acts as the local grocery store. Yeah, I love the town.

The drive up from Billings is as straight as a due north road can get. There were huge portions of the 200 mile drive that didn't have a curve in them for 20 or 30 miles. There were also no towns, gas stations, fences, animals or other cars to stink up the view. Just an endless strip of asphalt that tore across the high mountain plain. I didn't want to do anything that would ruin the moment so I kept the radio off out of fear that some over produced fuck-toy would fill my car with their warbling and it would recolor my vista. I just wanted to soak up the moment by enjoying the warm breeze on my face and dreaming of a bike ride across the U.S..

Then a thought flopped on top of me. There is a booker that is fucking with me. He recently gave me a rubber check and THAT took him four weeks to get to me. The delay was strike one, the bounce was strike two. I spoke with him face to face a few days ago and he professed his innocence, begged for forgiveness and swore that it wouldn't happen again. He gave me a new check.

It bounced and now he won't take my calls. Strike three.

I'm too far into my journey to stop, turn around and hurt him really badly. I sense the rage growing with every passing mile and I start to see the visions more clearly that are so common with sociopathic tendencies. I can visualize what I need to do to inflict the most harm on him and insure that my point is made effectively. These thoughts are very dark and they come from an even darker place. It's filled with a painful history of rage, guilt, shame, envy and pity but they are powerful feelings. As powerful as any decent feeling I've ever had. These darker feelings are almost impossible to control once you get rolling and if you don't change the subject or find something positive to think about, you're doomed. Your day, your spirit and your attitude are crushed under the enormous weight of wraith and embarrassment.

I used to think that it was good to think about this stuff and to try and get it out of my head by just letting it happen. Maybe then it would just disappear. The problem with this rationale is that you think you are relieving the pressure by tapping it and letting it pour out or burn up, but in reality the process is more closely related to digging a hole. You chop away at the decent parts of your mind each time you allow them occur and the more you dig, the more space you allow it have. The next time you let it in, it has more room to fill in.

I tried to avoid thinking about it, but that only encouraged it and increased its intensity when it got in. It turned out that the best thing to do this time, was to show myself the error in the thinking and work it out. This is like trying to convince an angry drunk of something. I was actually fighting myself over the domination of my own mind. It was a very odd feeling.

As odd as it sounds, it works. I don't feel that I am avoiding anything and so I don't feel like a coward. It's actually a good thing not to turn this stuff inward on myself. I have done that and I have the scars to prove it. I do my best not to embrace these feelings and this prevents me from pouring it out of my mouth into the ears of those around me (a dark thing if you are paid public speaker on stage in front of a room full of impressional drunks). I also haven't acted on any of the feelings, which keeps a lot of people from living in pain, including myself (I hated jail and never plan on returning).

The drive north on Highway 87 and then Highway 192 is flat, barren, and picture perfect. I must have driven over 90 miles an hour at different times and most of that time I had my arm out of the window like a wing to guide me along. I felt so good that I could have closed my eyes and just fell asleep, something I must remember not to do on the bike.

Eventually the serenity dictated that I put on some music to keep my mind working forward toward a goal. I put on Leo Kotke and played everything I have of his. His music just seemed to be the perfect supplement to the present view. If you haven't heard Leo, I highly recommend it, but not until Thursday.

The darkness was crafty and it made it's presence known. It was an early struggle not to let the day be lost to it and I'm glad that I will be able to enjoy this town without the burden of wanting to run over the locals with my car.

There is a fiddle competition at the rival bar to the one where I am performing. Maybe I will check that out and exorcise the remaining demons before show time.

it deepens

I feel like I am being chased.

Every time I look around, I see Da Vinci's eyes peering at me from the cover of Dan Brown's book. It's spooky. I have seen the book around the world for the last two years. Everywhere I go, there is a copy of that damn book floating around. It's in friend's houses, bookstores, waiting rooms, on the cover of magazines, in hostel lobbies and in the hands of bibliophiles while they eat their lunches alone.

If it wasn't haunting enough to see those eyes everywhere, now there are movie posters plastered everywhere to show us exactly what the rest of Da Vinci looked like - He looks like Tom Hanks.

The movie comes out today. I am going to see the movie next week. I read the book last year. Dan Brown wrote the book at 4 in the morning back in 2000 and Da Vinci did his thing over 600 years ago. And we are all STILL completely lost as to what all of this means. Is there a hidden message? Is this a great math equation or a complex series of numbers that reveal the truth about the Mormon church? Is this all a complex set up by the Masons to keep the rest of the world in the dark? Are we slaves? Is Jerrod from Subway, the anti-Christ? Help us Obi wan, you're our only hope!

Dan Brown stole the idea for his book and he knows it. He maintains that he is innocent of the charges but you can read Holy Grail, Holy Blood and see where the roots of Dan's Story came from. Dan doesn't like to talk about his book or any book, even though The Da Vinci Code is one of the greatest selling books of all time. That's pretty odd for a best selling author and it usually means... Scandal!!!! He also refuses to discuss the central themes of the book, which are at the core of the book's vitality. The book is so controversial that it makes people want to read it. I read it because it was on a ban list and I love to read banned books! I will admit, I was impressed. It's a great story and I was just as worked up about it's central theme as every other reader that has read it. (I always get that way when I read about old people fucking other old people in basements while other people watch.) I was so worked up and needing more that I picked up Dan Brown's other masterpiece, Angels and Demons, and read that too. Then all of my respect for Dan went flying out the window.

That's a shame. Dan was working an idea and he finally got it right. Angels and Demons came out before The Da Vinci Code and you can tell that Dan was trying to get the story right in his head and finally perfected it when he wrote The Da Vinci Code. Who am I to fault him for publishing some rough drafts? Angels and Demons was good in it's own right, but the story is almost exactly the same and that seems to suck the life out of Da Vinci Code. You feel like an elaborate cover story was being written and tested out. Those damn Elks and their sneaky little secret society!

Without fail, the literary community came to life and jumped on Dan and the book. The onslaught of naysayers, pessimists, skeptics, investigative reporters and the narrow minded religious freaks that loved "Passion of the Christ"(which did NOT make me want to visit Jerusalem at all) was brutal and a whole new writing market was created for wash-outs, never-were's and never-going-to-be's. The books came hard and fast; The Code Revealed, The Church Fraud, The Real Knights Templar, The Truth about the Priory, Priory Revealed, What the Church doesn't want you to know, The True Grail, etc. These books all came out to either support or denounce Dan's book and to do nothing more than just feed a readers need for more information after they finished The Da Vinci Code. The books contain absolutely no factual information and are actually FICTION designed to be NON-FICTION. The truth, it would seem was lost... hmmmm.

The number of books written in response to Angels and Demons; two. One is a step-by-step explanation of the book and one is about that strange writing style that Dan uses on his cover. Angels and Demons - two books. The Da Vinci Code - (by my count) 219 and that just at Borders books.

When ever the CIA wants to discredit something, they put out a lot of conflicting material to CONFUSE the populace. The idea being that if we are arguing the details of a fake issue, then we won't pay attention to the central one. The books that came out after The Da Vinci Code were on the streets only weeks after the debates started. That's pretty quick, eh? Angels and Demons was written in 1998(?), the two books about it came out in 2004. Some six plus years later.

Dan did something more than just write a good story. Dan created dialogue in a world that doesn't like dialogue. He raised questions that some people felt were poisonous and others felt were a light in the darkness. This is never a good thing to do to a people that are supposed to be believing whatever they are told.

But Dan had no idea what he was doing...

Dan stole the book, remember? He went to court with the authors of Holy Grail, Holy Blood and he settled out of court with them. In the court transcripts, it's apparent that he dodged a serious bullet by some random act of God. He does admit to having read Holy Grail, Holy Blood and he admits that he gives the authors a nod in his book by naming a few characters after them. Dan gave the authors shut up money and is sitting back waiting for the dough to roll in from the movie. The mystery about all the hush-hushness grows...

And will there be a sequel. To the book? No. To the movie? Yes. It seems what ever Dan does, people want to keep recreating it or get in on the financial action. And there are those that feel that they should have their opinion heard on the matter, whether we like it or not. This type of writer - not unlike some bloggers or a critics - is a vulture. They feed off the creations of others having never had to stick their own neck out.

Not Dan Brown.

Lost in all of this is Da Vinci himself, who, if I am not mistaken, is barely given any love by the world. Sure there are books and television shows about him, but his work (other than the paintings) are lost to our generation. Even with the bright lights of Hollywood shining down on him now, he is invisible in all of this and no schools are being named after him. Martin Luther King didn't design anything and he has schools, streets and a holiday. The last movie that even touched on the genius of Da Vinci in a mode other than painter, was "Hudson Hawk".

Dan wins the money, but loses all credibility. Dan will be known as the author of one of the most successful books of all time and he will forever be stuck in a world that only a very select few authors have ever known. Ayn Rand, Margeret Mitchell, Katherine Dunn, Truman Capote and Harper Lee - These writers were defined by one book that haunted their future work by casting a shadow so large that anything else they would have written would have been lost in it.

Unless Dan's next book exposes Hogwarts Academy as the devil worshiping society that is behind the Loch Ness mystery, he's all done. (He could call it, The Odd Nedrum Flummoxing... look him up...)

tossed zen salad

There are hundreds of books about specialized and mundane activities that are written as philosophy guidelines for life. Usually the books are very touching and insightful and they can bore you to death if you think that particular activity is dull to begin with. For example, there are books that relate bowling to the path of a man's life through all of its trials and tribulations. Some books are classics - riding motorcycles and repairing them and how it - ditto to bowling. Then there is are just the interesting ones that pop up from time to time that come and go with the phases of the moon: Cooking-ditto, knitting-ditto, camping-ditto, fishing-ditto, dating-ditto, painting, car repair, traveling, prison, marriage, and there are even a few as far fetched as picking a particular soda from a soda fountain at your local convenient store and picking the right convenient store. It's that broad. You could fill a whole lifetime reading this genre of books(and then you could write your own zen book about a life filled with reading zen books). It would seem that everyone has found a zen in something personal to them. What is baffling is that so many people were able to write about it. What are the odds that the bowling guy was also a writer?

For me, I try to find zen in everything. There is bliss to be had in everything I do (even the rage and homicidal feelings have a zen to them) and I feel like a hack writing about all the powers of the universe and the connecting strings that bind them all together, every time I head out on the road for a tour, eat a great meal, ride my bike or find a good deal on a typewriter. What is this feeling we have where we feel that we need to share our discoveries? Isn't it true that we are all enjoying our lives subjectively and no two lives are identical? So what makes one zen more true than another? No matter what you find, you can never relate that experience to another and have them understand it. Their experience and what they feel might be completely different from yours. You may love bowling and someone else might find it a complete waste of energy.

I went to a poetry open mic with a bunch of comedians in Calgary - this is a few years ago - The idea was that we could use the "open mic" as a way to try out some of our new comedy for a captive audience. The problem of course, is that poets have no sense of humor and comics never take anything serious unless it's their own experience. And there are very few comics that are serious enough to be poetic. Some are, but they wouldn't be found at an open mic.

The experience was a disaster. Poets bared their souls and we laughed at them. We saw the humor to their trivial commentary and thought their ideas to be generalized and repetitive. We told jokes and the poets saw our pain and empathized with it. Then they scoffed at us for hiding our pain in laughter and not just baring it for all to see. I also think they had a problem with the lack of rhyming.

The entire evening was painful for both worlds. Other than the discovery that poets can out-drink comics, no familiar ground was discovered. Not even my feeble attempt at reconciliation by performing my now famous, "Ode To Chocolate Cake" could save us. Everyone left in a little more pain than they showed up in. Zen failed everyone that night.

Both worlds are a zen unto themselves. For comics there is the release of all the inner pain and anguish by using humor to express it and share it. They use laughter as a measuring stick for acceptance within that group of strangers. They continue to hear the echoes of that laughter to remind them they are being heard for a long time after the crowd has gone. For poets their inner pain is shared very boldly. It's raw and passionate. Rarely is it ever silly to anyone other than comics that enjoy laughing at other peoples' pain more than their own. Both zens have merit and both have gaping flaws, but they work unless you mix them together.

Somehow the evening itself was the zen. The individual philosophies failed when new factors were introduced to each other. Which means that they're self-serving beliefs and not a truth. Any time that happens to a philosophy or religion, it must be viewed as a failure and rethought out. Something that fails when tested is not a truth but just a nifty idea.

You can label anything a zen. Look at your day today; everything that happened to you today describes the struggles, the joys, the pains, the journey of one life in this mad, mad world. Written correctly and with a few sentimental tones, which should include lots of sensory-laden vocabulary, your day will become the quintessential story of man/woman. Add a sunset, a warm breeze, a major loss or destruction of a dream, a rebirth, some hope and some rhetorical questions and you have a philosophy according to...

You.

It's your own personal mixture of zens.

I have many zens that make up my salad. I have writing, travel, motorcycles, woodworking, mountains, seduction, cooking, dining, the list is endless. All of them are temporary fixes that make me feel like a Buddhist monk when I am experiencing them in their highest blissful state. I could die in my own arms when I see mountains, lakes, and valleys. I could disappear when I am riding a motorcycle. I am lost in some other dimension when I am eating a great meal or having sex with a great partner. That doesn't mean I should write a book about it....

But I'm gonna....

Think about your zen salad and what it means to your success story... then add rain. That's your book.

amish challenge

The beauty of the Rockies in the spring time is immeasurable and driving through it is incredibly peaceful. This entire trip I have crept along at a snail's pace and I have done it with only the sound of the wind, the view from my window and my active mind to keep me company. That's either the Pony's influence on me or I am just too lazy to get out the Ipod and listen to music. The wind seems to be just the thing for this moment.

It's hot. Very hot. Upper 80's and that's pretty unseasonable for any time of year in the Pacific Northwest, especially Montana. Montana has been known to see a heavy snow in late June and this weather is just freaking out the perma-flannel denizens of the American Rockies. It's forcing me to keep the windows down a bit further than I normally like to have them and the wind is louder than usual. It's still very nice to feel a warm breeze on your face and in your hair... I think this is the Pony's doing.

I miss riding and I have stopped on this tour a few times to look at some bikes and take a ride on them if possible. It's a small fix for a larger problem but it will have to do until I get back to my own Pony. It would seem that there are bikes for sale all across the world and every one of those sellers will let you ride it as long as you want. This works out well for me. In the past two days I have been on four bikes; A Yamaha 650 twin - large and in charge bike and I loved it. A Kawasaki 125 dirt bike - a fun little light weight bike. A Yamaha 100 Enduro - a bit beat up but fun to open up and tear around on. And a Honda 650 twin - also large and in charge, but not as fancy or as fast as the Yamaha. (I might have to remember that for the future)

I could have toured on my bike, but it would have taken days to get here. The wind is blasting my face and deafening everything in the world to me, but I have nothing but riding on my mind, and it's making me grin all the time. With every biker I pass, a bit of bitter envy and immense joy overcomes me. Oh to ride through the mountains on a bike. I'm practically there now, the only difference is that I have windows and a seat belt.

I got to Missoula at show time and I didn't have time to do much before the show. No sneaky pete riding session in Missoula. Instead I just got ready for the show, went to the show, did the show and then came back to my room and went to bed. When I woke up, I realized that I hadn't touched the TV at all which is very odd for me. Usually you can use a motel/hotel TV to keep you company while in a strange place, like a piece of home that keeps you from feeling lonely, but I think that time and place in my life has past me by. I don't think I need to feel "familiar" when I am away anymore. This is my corner of the WORLD and I feel at home everywhere; Canada, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, and my beloved Washington. Perhaps what I should be seeking instead of needing to feel at home is a need to feel like I am on the road. That way I am being honest with myself about what I am doing and where I am. No little lies to get me through the rough spots. I guess the TV's of the world can just say silent.

In fact! Let's lay down the gauntlet. Now I know that most of you won't be able to do this, in fact, most of you are probably giggling at the prospect of what I am about to say, but let's just say it anyway...

CHALLENGE, should you choose to accept..

For one month... No, something easier for the weaker ones... For one week, no television at all. AND... No music in your home that isn't created by you. No radio. No tapes, CDs, Ipods, MP3 players. No music unless you make it. AND No internet. That's right, none. If you need to know what's going on, get a newspaper.

ONE WEEK. Starting Thursday. Seven full days of silence in your world. Just you and the basic world around you. Let's see how long it takes you before the lies start to creep into your head to convince you not to take this challenge because of blah, blah, blah.

I imagine that many of you will squirm and give in quickly. Many of you have wonderful, elaborate excuses why you can't do it and the fact that you "can't" is a pretty sad statement about you as a person. Perhaps you should think over some of your life choices again.

I'm sure that many of you are saying, "Will and Grace" has their final episode on Thursday. What about Hockey or Basketball or George Norrey? Doesn't it bother you that these things are important to you? Doesn't it bother you that you would give these things the weight that a junkie gives their drug of choice? Does that make you any better than a heroin junkie? (It would be interesting to see what's more destructive; Heroin or television. What do you think?) Do you find that part of your life attractive? Is your life worthy of all that was and is still being done to keep you alive? If you were in a car accident and it looked fatal for you, would your life be worth coming back for?

What are you going to do with yourself in that week? Read a book? Make your own music? Perhaps you will let the wind run through your hair. See what your mind comes up with when you let it work on it's own without any assistance. Let your body shift from mindless addict to the perfect self-gratification machine that it was designed to be. Just turn everything off around you and start playing with you. (that should inspire you)

The challenge is down. IF you choose to accept it, I don't expect you to read this blog until the following Thursday. I shall continue to write, but you will just have to catch up when the week is out. HEY, you might like the silence and the freedom. You never know. (this message will self-destruct in five seconds)

visionaries aren't always 20/20

Tom Cruise hurts me.

I just watched Mission Impossible 3 and I am ready to hurt each person involved with it. We can start with Tom as the producer and then Stratton Leopold as the Unit Production Manager and then down to JJ Abrams as the director and then everyone that appeared in the film later. It's just that bad of a film. Everyone should be punished. I forgive Keri Russell, she's only in it for a second and she's sexy. She gets a pass.

MI3 is an example of a film that suffers from too many visions and not enough focus. Tom wanted a film to further extend his mid-life crisis therapy, JJ Abrams wanted a film to show that he could direct a feature and Stratton wanted to show that he was ready to be a producer for Paramount. All three of these men did nothing but prove that they were pretenders and out of their league. In Tom's case, he just needs to accept the fact that the "Top Gun" days are over.

MI3 suffers miserably and the audience is made to suffer with it. Stay away from this film if you get dizzy easily. I think the only time the camera isn't moving is during the romantic scenes and they are so dull and lifeless, you'll be saying to yourself, "Tom Cruise has a fishing buddy in Wyoming". The camera is always on the move and you can't see half the film at all.

The story is complex and a stretch, but I am forgiving of that because it's supposed to be science-fiction fantasy. But... STILL! It still needs to be somewhat believable and interesting. The love story was supposed to be the focus of this enstallment and I can't say that we get any idea of what the girl is like, but we know Tom pretty well. They should have been honest and sad what this film is really all about, "Tom's damage control and another chance to showcase his physical abilities." I guess his acting ability isn't important.

I am going to ruin the film right now and tell you everything that happens:
The film opens at the end.
Tom is bargaining for his girl's life. Tom fails. Fade to black and start building a back story. Tom is getting married. His girl doesn't know he's a spy. Tom is no longer a spy but a teacher at spy school. His prize pupil is captured in Berlin. Tom is asked to fetch her. Tom's team tries to convince him not to get married. Tom fetches pupil in Berlin. Pupil dies during escape. Tom is scolded by Larry Fishburne who is the director of spies R us. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is the man who killed prize pupil. Tom marries his girl in hospital. Tom is sent to kidnap Phil with the same team. Tom nabs Phil in the bathroom at the Vatican. Tom almost kills Phil in a plane. Phil escapes incarceration during his ground transport. Phil kidnaps Tom's girl. Phil gives Tom 48 hours to get an "item" for him. Tom learns that Larry Fishburne is a rogue agent. Tom gets nabbed by spies R us for being a rogue agent. Tom escapes spies R us building. Tom heads to China. Tom gets item in China. Film picks up where it started. Tom lives. Tom saves girlfriend. Tom kills Phil. Tom kills himself. Tom's girlfriend saves Tom. Tom and girl go to spies R us building and the movie ends like every episode of an 80's television show. Everyone involved in the film is laughing and the frame is frozen during a fade to black.

JJ Abrams should be shot. I wasn't aware of who he was until I looked it up. He created the television shows, "Alias" and "Lost". I haven't seen either show and now I know not to. He is not a director and the powers that be should be slaughtered for allowing him the to direct this snot rag. JJ suffers from first-timer syndrome and the film is hard to follow, filled with every known kind of camera angle and stereotypical set up. JJ, shame on you. You should have said no to this one and directed something smaller and learned how to use a camera first.

Tom Cruise hired him. And during the film, you can see why he made this choice - This film is for Tom. He wanted to further his statement about his life. He wasn't to show that his life wasn't a complete waste and that even short men are worth something to the fabric of society. During the film, Tom did all of his own stunts, as he always does. In this one he jumps off the tallest building in Shanghai for reasons that are not very clear. He slides under two cars. He jumps across a huge void. He is blown up. It's just a Tom-fest. In fact, he is in every scene of the movie. Phil - the Oscar winner, is barely used and only shows up in the middle of the film. Why he is a bad guy is never revealed. What his evil plan is, is also not revealed.

Tom!!! Listen, It's okay, really. We loved you in "Born on the Fourth of July" and "Color of Money". It's okay. You can stop now. (will someone please hug this guy!)

The film is two hours of noise. I have not seen a film that was as bad in a long, long time. "Domino" comes to mind, but this even tops that one (Mickey Rourke was in Domino, which is it's saving grace). If you see MI3, sneak in to it. Don't pay a dime for it otherwise you are going to let the studios think that it's okay to hire JJ Abrams again.

Am I upset? Oh yes. But, I am learning to adjust my film rage in a positive way.

Quite possibly the most defining moment in the film is when Tom and his girl are walking in a shanty town section of Shanghai and she asks where he really works and he says, "Impossible Missions Force". I think this accurately describes the production and it makes me laugh when I think about it.

To tie it in with yesterday's theme - I have already been to the Vatican and I don't want to see Shanghai, so this film doesn't even do much to promote tourism in those areas. Unless you want to see the spies R us building in "Virginia", which is apparently located near the Florida keys.

the gay's have all gone to wyoming.

"Jaws" came out in 1975 and it dramatically changed the summer plans for millions of people around the world. The week before, life looked pretty rosy and there wasn't a care in the world. The day after the modest opening in mid-May - a camping trip in the mountains became a real hot idea for millions of people. They played off this last minute change of plans as if it were due to some sickness that is associated with beachcombing. They just wanted a change of pace from the drabbiness of golden tans, warm seas and iced drinks. Somehow freezing to death, using leaves as toilet paper and being dirty for a whole week sounded better than death or mauling by shark.

Films have that kind of power. After "The Da Vinci Code" comes out, watch how many people go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. The book alone has changed the landscape at the louvre and a lot of other locations named in the book. When I was there, the Mona Lisa was the only piece of art that had anyone around it.

"The Bridges of Madison County" both the book and movie, increased tourism in that tiny county in Iowa by 200%. "Field of Dreams" created a place in Iowa for people to flock to (the book had no such impact) "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" increased the awareness of Devil's Tower in Wyoming. "Blackhawk down" decreased the tourism in Somalia. "Ganhdi" did nothing for tourism in India. Believe it or not, "Crocodile Dundee" increased tourism in Australia and practically introduced it to America. Prior to that, it was primarily a tourist haven for Asians. Whether or not the film increased the tourism of New York will never be known. "United 93" will increase tourism to that field in Pennsylvania much the same way "Groundhog Day" increased interest in Puxataney, PA years before.

Films have some real power baby.

One of the funniest things I learned this week was that the film "Brokeback Mountain" has actually been both a good and bad thing for the state of Wyoming. It turns out tourism has increased to cowboy state by 65% in the last year. I would seem that Homosexuals are flocking to the popular wrangler round ups and mountain campsites that usually attract rich socialites and wayward urban cowboys. Even with the increase in numbers, many in Wyoming and around the world have viewed this trend as a bad thing. Apparently the presence of so many homosexuals on the Wyoming ranges has scared off the traditional Wyoming tourist. Here's the funny part; the state of Wyoming PREFERS the homosexuals! As it turns out - homosexuals spend more money and are generally a better crowd of people to deal with.

Of course Wyoming has a rich Homosexual past and present. Yes, this IS the same state that not too long ago, tied a young gay man to a fence and beat him to death. But it's also the state where our surly and very naughty Vice President and his gay daughter are from. It's also true that the notorious gay icon, Han Solo lives here. So what took the rest of the gay community so long?

Films are a powerful tool for tourism and we must remember that every time we watch a movie. Secretly we are being sold on a vacation package while we are in our trance. (remember, movies are heroin) Here is another example of the power of film that I like to call: Why I have never been to Africa and never will.

"Ghost and the Darkness, Gorillas in the Mist, Greystoke, legend of Tarzan, Zulu, Out of Africa, The English Patient, Cry Freedom, The Power of One, Hotel Rwanda, Blackhawk Down, The Mummy, Death on the Nile, The Mummy returns, More Death on the Nile, The Other Hotel in Rwanda, Zulu Dawn, Outbreak, And the Band Played On, Amistad, Lord of War, Jewel of the Nile, When We Were Kings, Casablanca, The Desert Fox, Ishtar, Delta Force, The African Queen".....

Based on this brief list of African-set movies I have learned this about Africa - It's full of disease, war, boxers, man eating lions, smokers, gorillas and Warren Beatty. SO... I'm not sure that I'll be headed that way any time soon.

I am actually headed to Montana to do some touring. If you view my web site you knew this and I am not telling you anything new. En route I have picked up a few more typewriters. A beautiful Remington and a sleek little Underwood. There is also talk of a possible Royal, but the lady is asking a wee bit too much.

I haven't ridden my Pony in two days but I have been on four other bikes in two days. It's a sickness. I blame it all on...

"Easy Rider, Long Way Around, Biker Boyz, The Wild Ones, Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, Any Which Way You Can, Mad Max, The Road Warrior and Harold and Maude"

for those among us with little or no ability to create visuals on their own

This is the view from the perch. Notice the lovely blue sky. Take a moment to appreciate the architecture of downtown Tacoma. If you look real close you can see a windsock on that tall building to the right. If that fucking volcano wasn't there, you could see the rest of the world.
VIEW FROM THE PERCH, WA








This is the new pony. In the "bike" world... It's called a THUMPER. To me it's 500 cc's of wild-eyed freedom. Just gotta keep the fuzz from trying to bring me down. If the fuzz doesn't get me, then sand, mud, water, oil, bad drivers, children, pot holes and my forgetful nature. (1 down, 2-5 up?)
THE STABLE IN FRONT OF THE PERCH, WA







There is this huge volcano in every picture I take from my window. Damn it!
VOLCANO INFESTED, WA














Early typewriters have no "1" key. Anyone know why? First person to tell me why that is AND, that is really, really sexy and rich, gets to take me to dinner and then have sex with me.
PRECIOUS #4, WA












The long lost art of imagination and the goldmine of opportunity.
This is my 1910 Royal. Burgandy and sexified. It was made before the Titanic and guess which one is still with us and working?
THE BOOTY, WA










This 1895 Underwood was sold to me by a woman who's Grandfather had used this BAD ASS at the Seattle Newspaper in the 1920's!!! She walked away from this and another beauty which I forgot to take photos of. To say it's mint is to rob it of it's value. It's more than mint. It's peppermint.
THE GRAIL, WA







I bet you thought this was going to be the Oompa Loompas, it's not. This was a photo of the local Mexican community rioting/protesting, etc. This was also the day that I was served raw food on a succession of dirty plates. Give them what they want, if we don't... Who will make all the Chinese food?
LA PLAZA DEL RIOTO, WA







Anyone remember when I looked this good? The hair is Nazified and the smoking thing is gone. Damn I wish I had never gotten sick. Thank god the Thumper makes me want to smoke. I should be back in the swing of things by Christmas. I do have another tour of Korea in October, that should do it.
A LOVELY PLACE IN MY DREAMS, WA






Okay, Obviously I don't have a lot of photos here for you to look at, but what is there to take photos of? There is the bike. I don't want to be one of those freaky people that take photos of things they own and then feel a complusion to show them to everyone. Those people suck. Almost makes me want to smoke.

The sun was out on this saturday. I rode for hours. I envisioned long trips on the bike while listening to the lower half of my body shake to pieces. It's not good to have your cock go numb for any reason, ever. I'm still trying to massage blood back into it.

Request photos if you want them. Be nice about it.