Perhaps an elitist or arrogant thought (and if it's not, then the process leading up to it certainly is, as is the resulting chain): the people that you surround yourself with help determine your future path.

And by this I mean: the more successful the people around you, the more likely you will be successful. And not just riding on coattails (though that never hurts); it's an issue of drive, ambition, having a pace runner on the track to keep you moving.

Surround yourself with people who aim low, and odds are good that you will find it more acceptable to do the same.

Surround yourself with escapists, and you will more likely follow them down those dangerous paths.

So: can you adjust this by being aware of the fact? Can you split your time between ambitious and lazy people, knowing the effects, and force yourself to ignore the lazy influence? Can a limited dose of intelligence and drive overpower an equal amount of immaturity?

I wonder this for my own sake, as well as for that of others.

And is it wrong to hope to influence others well? Or is that bordering on messianic tendencies?

--

It's amazing how much can be understood about human dynamics, the hidden backgrounds of relationships, if you pay attention through your life.

With just a little bit of the participants' histories and a glimpse of observation of the way they interact, it's frightening how much I understand things that are so totally foreign to me.

And so I am left with the question of whether to leave it alone and let it ride, or to try to do something about it. And if the latter, what? How deeply do I get involved?

Or do I stick with my pact of "non-involvement in potential drama?" That seems like the safest way, in the long run, but is it the right thing to do? Do I havea responsibility to do otherwise?

When does helping someone who needs it (but has not asked for it) become interference?

--

My ship is about due to come in, creatively & financially. I tend toward thinking that I haven't been active enough in shifting things from free to profitable, but I know that's not the case (when I stop and think about it). So that leaves me with the knowledge that, way too often, I'm being too nice, too giving.

But shouldn't that balance out eventually? Isn't that the way karma works?

Why do I believe so firmly in karma when it involves balancing the negatives that I've created or caused, but not so much so when it should mean that I'm gaining from it?

Le fucking sigh.

--

Why are abnormal things bad?

Deviant sexual behavior is not necessarily bad, right (right-wing morons can take comments to someone who cares)? It's not practiced by the majority, but if both parties consent, then it's okay... right?

And some mental issues are by nature bad -- depression, for instance. But what about mania? It's not a painful condition to experience (though the after-effects can be; but that can be controlled through self-awareness, at least in my case). Schizophrenia is scary, but I've known a few mildly schizoprhenic people who were okay with it (these, obviously, were more of the grandeur than persecution varieties).

So why do we insist on calling things that are different by negative labels? Codependent relationships -- or for that matter, relationships that are founded on something other than what "experts" tell us is right -- are "unhealthy." Different ways of thinking are branded "abnormal" (not inherently a negative term, but often connoted as such) or "weird" or "fucked up."

Why can't different just be different? Why do we (and I admit to inclusion, though I'm trying hard to change that) insist on judging and condemning things that are not in our nature or experience instead of learning and experiencing?

--

If I didn't hold most philosophy students in such low regard, I would have gotten a graduate degree in the subject.

Which would qualify me to do nothing more than verbally masturbate for money.

Now that I put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad. Although, as Chance and I both like to say, " Good work -- *if* you can get it."

Needies: Like Rain on a Sunshiny Day: "Needies are interactive plush dolls inspired by codependent, high-maintenance relationships. "

I am simultaneously amused and horrified -- horrified that someone will get me the full collection.

House Agrees to $3,100 Pay Raise for 2006 - Yahoo! News: "The House on Tuesday agreed to a $3,100 pay raise for Congress next year — to $165,200 — after defeating an effort to roll it back.

'It's not a pay raise,' said House Majority Leader
Tom DeLay, R-Texas. 'It's an adjustment so that they're not losing their purchasing power.'"

Freestar Media, LLC: "Justice Souter's vote in the 'Kelo vs. City of New London' decision allows city governments to take land from one private owner and give it to another if the government will generate greater tax revenue or other economic benefits when the land is developed by the new owner.

On Monday June 27, Logan Darrow Clements, faxed a request to Chip Meany the code enforcement officer of the Towne of Weare, New Hampshire seeking to start the application process to build a hotel on 34 Cilley Hill Road. This is the present location of Mr. Souter's home."

Brilliant! This has to go through -- and then the authors of the Patriot Act and every politician that supported it should have their library records and internet logs released to the public.

Tom's Hardware Guide Games & Entertainment: Ten Free Games Worth Downloading - Free Games? What, Like A Pong Remake?: "Still, a little patience and a lot of browsing through sites like Acid-Play, GameHippo and Game Maker Games brought up a lot of hopefuls. That eventually resulted in this list of ten titles - in no particular order - that you should check out, just to see what gamers are up to in their free time. Trust me, some of these are good enough that you'd like to see them appear in a box one day."

My god.

Imagine: you step outside and look up into the sky, only to view a sea of spermclouds flying merrily past.

How does your day go from there?

The physics behind this little bit of Flash are amazing.

And if you pretend that the body belongs to someone you don't like, it's even more fun.

http://www.izpitera.ru/lj/tetka.swf

(You can grab different body parts with your mouse to control the fall, too)

So if there's rumors of me getting fired, just remember -- they had good cause.

No, wait. I mean...

But getting past the stuffed up head and the metric shitload of snot:

I've really come a long way over the past years in my comfort level in myself, and in getting past my insecurities. Tonight was good proof of that.

Life is wonderful today, if never again.

It's good to remember the happy times in life.

Excellent waste of your time:

http://download.ifilm.com/qt/portal/2672935_300.mov

Regarding red hair: it's been far too long.

Regarding Redsong: the mix is rough, rough, ruff, roll me over now, but I think the arrangement is exactly what I wanted, and I does believes that Eric will be happy with it, as well (the really important part).

Regarding red... okay, I lied. Only two red things.

And on other fronts, it's amazing how things fall into place sometimes.

I tell myself that I will stop looking, stop acting, start adjusting; and I do, sort of, or at least I feel like I'm well on my way. I'm playing by my own self-enforced rules, and though there are some roughs spots (and I'm obviously self-medicating, trying to do too many things in order to distract myself -- though admittedly it's a lot healthier than alcohol as a red herring), I'm getting through okay.

And as of last week, I find myself fighting promises I've made, rules I've made, boundaries I've set in place.

But as expectations fall away, and realizations about content come to the surface, I start to realize that those rules are stupid. Sure, there's some adjustment internally to be made; if not, history repeats itself, and I'm tired of being in that loop. But...

But. There's the key word.

I'm walking through the day surprised at myself, unable to think straight, fidgety, ready for the night to arrive. And none of this is surprising, except that I had thought that a part of the past, dead to the bitterness I've gathered and stored.

I had decided a while back that people with whom I shared mutual surface interests were not all that great. And I still stick to that, but I'm reminded that there are no rules, only expectations. Tattoos, comic books, horror movies, the English language...

If she's not so bad, then that means I'm not so bad, either, hunh?

Amazing how a negative view of others with commonalities to oneself can affect self-image. And equally amazing, and wonderful as well, how finding someone who breaks that stereotype can boost the mirror image.

That's just knowing that they're out there. And there's so much more than that.

...

Things feel as though they are falling into place across the board -- not necessarily at the top of the chain, but at least another rung on the ladder, another step forward. And while I remain constantly aware that this is just another wave in a repeating series - well, at least it's the apex ahead of me.

I'll worry about the break when it comes.

There's a certain gambler's beauty in anticipation, in the art of practicing patience. There's a level of excitement that builds, wondering if the awaited event will ever come, when it will come, if it will be as good as you hope, as good as you expect, as good as you need it to be.

You don't understand the addiction to gambling unless you have experienced the gambler's win.

And in this moment, I'll say this and only this: well worth the wait.

Such a small thing, and yet so amazingly gratifying. When the world can disappear in the moment, absorbed into a second that stretches into eternity... that's when you start to realize that whether life has purpose or meaning or a larger point -- well, it doesn't really matter. That one moment, the clench of your gut, the wonder and expectations bleeding away in a glorious rush: this is what matters, if only for a little while.

And so you do your best to capture that, and store it away.

"Forget for this moment the smog and the cars and the restaurant and the skating and remember only this: a kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true."

I will never grow tired of this quote.

Be there. Or don't.

We love you anyway.

THe Exhibit(s): voted "Worst Band in Birmingham" (by it's own members, no less)

...and yet, so right...

Newhouse A1: "Gitmo is the gulag equivalent of a Ben Affleck movie: no one's seen it, but everyone has an opinion about it. Given all the rhetoric that's been spilled about this sorta-kinda-not-really Death Camp, it's time we re-examine the facts, and remind ourselves what's really at stake. Herewith a summation."

I've posted about PostSecret before, I know... and if you haven't gotten over there, you're missing what might be one of the most moving artistic ideas out there. It's very hit-and-miss - I haven't found any of the cards on there that just suck or anything, but damn it, this one made my stomach clench when I read it. Great combo of words and visuals...

A Brief History of the Apocalypse: "Ronald Reagan, in a 1980 interview with Jim Bakker, said, "We may be the generation that sees Armageddon." Before that, in 1971, Reagan commented to James Mills regarding events in Libya, "For the first time ever, everything is in place for the Battle of Armageddon and the Second Coming of Christ." Obviously, Reagan thought that the end would come SOON! And to think that a man with apocalyptic delusions like this had his finger on the nuclear button for 8 years. (Grosso p.8)"

Otherwise, a really informative look at the history of the beginnings of the end...

Celsius1414: Zen Pockets: "There is a reason monks renounce worldly possessions: they are distractions from important work.

There is a reason people in therapy talk pejoratively about carrying around 'baggage' from relationship to relationship. Baggage is Bad.

Carting around pounds or kilograms of unnecessary stuff is so, well, unnecessary. It hurts your concentration, and physically hurts, too. Take that extra minute and filter your cargo."

http://www.putfile.com/media.php?n=galaxy

Don't go here and watch this.

Seriously.

What if Burroughs had written Johnny, the Homicidal Maniac?

Ohmygod.

Sometimes, things go exactly as you would expect, and that's good.

Sometimes, things go so totally and indescribably aginst the grain. That's often not good.

And sometimes, things just go, and it's certainly not bad. But perhaps it's confusing, because this is unlike anything you've ever experienced.

But new is good...

At the very least, I am happy the past three nights. Calm, content, no drama, so it might not be obvious on my face... but inside, very, very happy. Comfortable.

Like I said, different.

In other news, I have seen the face of Dear Abby's evil twin -- let's call her Dread Abby -- and she is my new goddess.

Just because.

And no, I'm not sharing.

Sundays they camped and read and prayed (and then told fart jokes): "Jon was helping me bathe Leta and he remarked that the last thing those kids would be doing would be singing as they walked and walked and walked. We used to be kids, and now that we have one we know that they’d do nothing but whine and bitch and moan as they walked and walked and walked. As we washed Leta’s hair we thought that more appropriate verses to the song would have been verses like:

“Pioneer fathers took extra wives, more wives, more wives, more wives, more wives.”

or

“Cholera spread through the camp and they died, and died, and died, and died, and died.”"

You guys can think that you're a good and entertaining blogger until you're blue in the face, but you're wrong. Plain wrong. Until you've got what Heather here has, you're just wasting time.

Just like me, I'll note.

Salon.com Life | My rich, beautiful girlfriend makes me feel like a loser: "The way we feel has a lot to do with what kind of story we tell..."

"Yesterday the temperature dropped to -52.6C (that's -62.7F). Even for Halley that's officially 'cold' as it only drops below -50C a couple of times a year, if at all. The lowest recorded temperature here was -55C way back in 1974.

There are plenty of fun and games to be had in extreme temperatures like this. First we repeated an old trick that we tried last year. When you throw boiling water into the air at this temperature it evaporates before it hits the ground."

[from simonc.f2o.org/]

Google is a tool to help us find things on the Web, right?

Fine. I use Google; quite a bit, in fact. I've gotten quite good at using binary algorithms to find obscure data on the Net in a flash. I love their image search, and the maps looks like it might one day be useful (if I ever go anywhere again).

But I'll be damned if Google isn't providing a serious impedance in my professional lives.

The easiest (NOTE: not "the only," just "the easiest") way to make a site that has one data source for the content and multiple data sources (to provide for multiple designs) is to use dynamic data. Store your content in a database, publish it on the fly. The data is stored completely unconnected to any design elements; that's all left to the PHP script and the CSS.

(And for those who wonder: I'm aware that CSS is the design element of the chain, and that you can use multiple CSS pieces for a single document; however, let's say that one design for desktops has extra menus, extra graphics, etc.; and that your alternate design for PDAs and Blackberry devices is stripped down for compliance purposes)

And it's not that it's impossible to build a data driven site -- far from it. All you need is knowledge of whatever database app your server provides, whatever server-side script your server allows, and some algorithmic abilities.

Unless you want Google to spider your site.

I've spent the past week reading all sorts of Google related docs -- theories of programmers on how their searches work, internal documents on the progression of the search rules, etc. -- and I get it. And I love what they've done, because (from the end user standpoint) it does a great job of finding relevant documents, weeding out spam, and helping me find what I need to know.

But if your data is dynamically generated, you're missing out on being included in quite a bit of their recipe, because bots and spiders don't read databases.

And so this tool that is supposed to help other people has become this major hindrance to my future approach to website architecture.

And fuck all of you that say this is helping me think outside-of-the-box. I was doing that when I came up with a brilliant approach to modular site design, and now that's fucked, thanks to our "need" to be tops on the Google pages.

What, suddenly we're making ad revenue off of random searches or something?

Ignoring the content (British political jab, blahblah), check out the perspective. This is a painting done on a sidewalk -- the hole is not real.

OR IS IT? Mwahahaha...

"Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. 'Yes' is the answer."
--Swami X

What a perfectly wonderful evening. Filled with good conversation and laughter and new friends.

This is the kind of night that should happen more often. Relaxed, the barest amount of anxiety on my part (that's my favorite part about the evening).

And as I'm driving home, it hits me that the moon is almost full, and nothing crazy happened today.

Yes. This long, hot summer may be bearable after all. At least it's starting off well.

Things I despise today:

Overanalysis
Learning curves
Challenges with no discernible meaning or point other than wasting my time
Software upgrades
Silence

...yeah. I really hate silence. Although I think today it's only because I badly need help waking up.

Allow myself to introduce... myself...

It's amazing outside right now. I'm only upset that I don't have a camera worth a damn; the lightning is a perfect combination of heat and summer thunderstorm. It's the perfect storm, come to think of it -- light rain, breeze, and these gorgeous silver forks racing from one horizon to the other.

I'm glad that I learned to recognize and store moments like this.

All this is doing today is keeping me awake. But it's funny as fuck to watch my intern jump every time I click on the pig.

Every. Bloody. Time.

Heh.

My god, I might die of exhaustion today.

Which is another way of saying that I wish I were dead, because I hear the benefits package is unbeatable.

Foo... Didn't fall asleep until about 6 AM, for some reason, and up at 7:30. Should have ignored the alarm clock. Should have driven to your house and crawled in bed next to you, just to spread the pain. Or maybe next to your sister, and spread something else.

Urggle.

Well, let's see: last night went well, I suppose. Thank god I'm too tired to over-analyze today; I'd be in for a world of self-doubt and questioning, if not. But she was dressed up when I arrived at Dave's - and as much as I try to think of poetic and flowery language to describe how amazing she looked, the best I can do is, "Wow." And at one point, she changed into a t-shirt and jeans (and there's an opportunity here to note that she has such a wonderfully artistic back, but in the interest of being gentleman-like, I'll say nothing), and she STILL looked ... well, Wow.

Yes, capitalization will amuse me today.

So, we went and grabbed some food (to wit: she ate. I continued to drink). We came back to Dave's and witnessed debauchery and fooishness. Sorry: Debauchery and Foolishness. Went back to my place, watched TOP SECRET.

Note: TOP SECRET is a really bad idea for what to watch when you wish to impress... actually, just a really bad idea in general. But it does have a cow in German military boots.

And other notes that I should probably make elsewhere, but the rest of my life is on display for you three bored souls, so why not this, too? Why not, indeed?

She is incredibly bright. More than a few people don't give her nearly enough credit, which is too bad. But I suspect that she will realize soon enough that this can be a Good Thing, used to her advantage.

Her ex-boyfriend is a moron. Which is easy for me to say -- I say that about a lot of people, in fact. But to differentiate between other morons - for instance, morons that don't see how beautiful and wonderful Neely or Wade are, or people that don't realize that Eric is one of the most musical souls ever to exist - and this guy: my opinion of his Moronitude is not entirely based on knowing her. To restate: it's not personal.

Part of the coincidence is that I've heard her story before, and realized it last night in yet another moment of "holy shit, this town's too small." And I thought he was a moron then, just from stories I heard in the air and from the mouths of little birdies.

Now I know much more of the story, and it's been confirmed. He's a Moron.

It doesn't help his case that he let her slip away from him. It helps even less that he did all the things he did to her -- totally inexcusable things, that I hope none of you would *ever* put up with.

Oh, and I dreamed I broke E's kneecaps in Neely's honor. But it turned out that, since I've never met E, I got confused and broke The Edge's kneecaps. And Bono stood by and sang "Love is Blindness" while I did it, and poor Edge kept asking, "Who is this 'O' Neely'?"

Stupid guitarists.

My eyes are so far surpassing fresh that it boggles the mind of God. Give me proofs and documentation to devour, and souls to cleanse my palate.

No, that's only one word. Get over it.

I am amused. I am amused at the ways of the universe, the ebb and flow of the rhythms of this strange, strange cosmos that I inhabit.

City Stages didn't suck too badly this year, though I suspect that my feelings there are related to the lack of time I spent there. Lynam does not, in fact, suck, by the way.

And how can I not be fascinated by Christina? Especially given the ... erm. Coincidence?

Yes. Coincidence. Let's leave it at that.

Don't want to spill all the amusement at once...

No more night time buddies. Andrew was seen off at Dave's tonight, and in quite a memorable stupor. Memorable to everyone but him, of course... but I seem to think I might have photographic evidence.

Julie would be so amused... Heh.

I sense that, perhaps, I am on the verge of a turnaround.

Wishful thinking, perhaps, but I'm due.

You get to make up a dinner party. 5 guests, plus a free religious figure and a personal friend. If you prefer, you can request dead people, and specify their age when they attend. And you have to do the seating chart order:

Jesus (post-crucifixion, pre-resurrection) (religious figure)
Roy Moore
Traci Lords
Al Franken
Ann Coulter
Warren Ellis
Me
Neely Harris (mental_floss editor and friend)

(Note that this is crafted with the idea of the bastard cousin of the Dinner Game -- the Hot Tub Game -- in mind. With this chart, we move directly from the desert and coffee course to the jacuzzi. Fun for everyone involved. Especially me and Neely.)

(And for Neely's sake, Jesus is wearing a nice if subtle cologne)

The Sneeze - Half zine. Half blog. Half not good with fractions.: "As stated in the book, yeast is definitely contraband, but for the sake of this culinary experiment we'll just assume I gave the prison baker a hand-job.

But then the guy wouldn't give me the yeast! SO I STABBED HIM WITH A PEN IN THE EYE AND TOOK IT! And I was all, 'DON'T FUCK WITH STEVE!'

Yes. This is what we should assume."

Michael Jackson, acquitted on 10 counts, the most notable of which is molestation.

I'm gonna go with our legal system on this one, and say that the man is innocent. Guilty of poor judgment calls, sure, but innocent of molestation.

That said, all these parents who let their children sleep over at Neverland should be laughed out of anywhere if they later accuse Jackson of anything. It's not as though he's the local Catholic priest or anything...

Er... poor comparison, I suppose. But still...

Carlos Mencia has a great bit about all of this. Anyone not easily offended should seek out his DVD.

Damn you, Brandie, for linking to this and piquing my curiousity.

Hell-o and welcome to the unearthing of GIRLS AND CORPSES online magazine.

You know you've been thinking about it... dreaming about it... well now, here it finally is!

Why Girls and Corpses, you ask?

Well, if you're like me, you like two things, beautiful girls and rotting corpses. So, I thought, why not bring them together in one magazine?

ThinkGeek :: PlusDeck:



The PlusDeck 2 is a full-logic cassette deck for your PC. Use it to archive your old cassette tapes of 80s hair bands into digital media files for playback on your PC. Or better yet, archive your favorite audio files or streams onto cassette - perfect for playback in your '78 Midget that is still not sporting an in-dash CD player. (Those of you still in the 8-track days will have to keep waiting for a PC-friendly solution I'm afraid...)

Surely we all remember the X-Files. Right? The truth is out there? This show was really great until the last season, when the entire show was out there?

Yeah.

Gillian Anderson has such a quiet charisma on screen (check out PLAYING BY HEART for a great non-Scully role). And she still looks gorgeous...

Yes, I have what Melissa and I used to refer to as TV girlfriends.

God, I smoke a lot when I'm writing. I mean, a LOT. half a pack over hte past hour and a half.

But on the other hand, I just knocked out a ten page short script that's been in my head for months now in that time. And I think it came out really well. Anyone that wants to be a reader, let me know. Drop me an email and I'll send you a copy, if you promise to be critical but constructively so (which is to say, if you find a problem, offer me a solution).

And on that note, I'm fucking drained. The other joy of writing.

Although I'll openly admit that that might be entirely related to smoking so much in such a short period. Or the utter lack of sleep I've had this week, in spite of making holes in my schedule specifically to catch up.

Le fucking sigh.

"One out of a Million," coming soon to script competitions everywhere.

"Congratulations, Kenn!
Your IQ score is XXX

This number is based on a scientific formula that compares how many questions you answered correctly on the Classic IQ Test relative to others.

Your Intellectual Type is Visual Mathematician. This means you are gifted at spotting patterns — both in pictures and in numbers. These talents combined with your overall high intelligence make you good at understanding the big picture, which is why people trust your instincts and turn to you for direction — especially in the workplace. And that's just some of what we know about you from your test results... "

Oh, god. I hope they don't know about the bodies...

But I have begun talking to friends about getting involved in another Sidewalk Scramble.

And if the next few days don't do me in from lack of sleep and too much on my plate, then nothing ever will.

...

I might as well wear a lightning rod skullcap.

Man with what appeared to be a bloody chain saw let into U.S.: "On April 25, Gregory Despres arrived at the U.S.-Canadian border crossing at Calais, Maine, carrying a homemade sword, a hatchet, a knife, brass knuckles and a chain saw stained with what appeared to be blood. U.S. customs agents confiscated the weapons and fingerprinted Despres.

Then they let him into the United States."

Optical Illusions and Visual Phenomena Fun, fun, fun.

I mean, headache, headache, headache....

St. Petersburg Times: "Jillette, 50, and his wife Emily, 39, welcomed Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette on Friday, according to publicist Glenn Schwartz. It was the first child for the couple, who married last year."

Spelled like the Brits would, because it's a dry and black sense of humor that us colonials are apt to miss.

I'm reasonably certain that I've figured out a lot of things that I've been searching for the answers to over the last few weeks. It's been odd, suddenly having all sorts of knowledge that I've sought for a long time -- not the least reason being that I'm painfully aware that the knowledge has no immediate application. I don't know that I expected anything different, but I guess at least some small part of me was hoping that knowledge gained would somehow make everything better.

Or at least make everything make sense. But that's the furthest thing from the truth. At best, things are as murky as they always have been; at worst, things make even less sense, and are a little bleaker.

More bleak?

Grammar nazi is taking a nap right now.

The only natural conclusion that I can come to is that there is no miracle waiting around the corner for me; any change will have to be self-propelled. Not that I didn't know this before -- I did. It's just another way of saying that a little more innocence has died; a little more realism has crept into the space I used to reserve for dreams.

Le sigh, as the French would say.

Those fuckers, with their berets and duck liver and wineries.

Speaking of wine, I'm on the wagon for a while. Well, maybe not on the wagon, straight up with a Coke back -- more neat, I think. No more shots for a while, and no more pounding Red Bull and anything. And given that Woodchuck is turning my gut to a bloody pulp, and everything else I drink is utterly neutering to my already sad public image....

Yes, Saturday night into Sunday morning was a not-so-sober sobering experience. I learned that you should NOT cap off twenty four hours (11 1/2 hours behind the wheel, 3 hours asleep, and the rest mingling with long-lost family) with a session of heroic binge drinking. Not a good idea, if you value your dignity.

I used to, but I think I gave it all away this weekend.

Le sigh, part II: The Revenge.

Why do I work a billion jobsand never rest enough? Because it's what I know.

And because I really want to be rich, as much as I wish I could be non-materialistic.

I'm standing outside the Pepper Place last night. It's intermission time during the "Evening For Adults with Shel Silverstein" as put on by TNT. It's a good collection of shorts -- the easiest way to keep me entertained, by the way -- with a good group of actors. Not brilliant, not mind-boggling, but certainly enjoyable. The main reason I'm there is also the exception to that last statement: Melissa, my ex-wife, is quite possibly one of the best actors I've ever known, and in many ways one of the best that I can think of outside of my personal contact sphere. The two scenes she's in are show-stealers, and this is not an uncommon occurance -- I've heard this from many people about many shows.

And I'm overcome with a little bit of sadness, because I had that and let it go (to objectify my ex for a moment). It's something that a lot of my friends won't let me forget, something my parents wouldn't let go for a long time -- something that I won't let myself forget, too often. I will say that no matter what my frame of mind, I believe that she's the best "significant other" I've ever had, the closest I've ever come to what I ultimately want. And there are times when I feel way too lonely, times that I'm convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that I made the worst mistake of my life by letting her go, that I pretty much committed (in my rather non-religious book, at least) the ultimate sin.

And then there are times like now, times that I regret that things didn't work out, that we couldn't make it work, that we had to work at it. But it's for the best; a lot of good came out of it. I've been forced to examine myself more deeply, to dig toward the roots of myself, of my Self. I've gotten some good writing out of it. She's returned to acting, which is quite possibly the best thing that she will ever do -- and a gift to those who see her, as well.

I'm cycling really badly the past few days, from manic to depressive and back. Last night is a great example. Rapid cycling is a scary thing to me; it's awfully close to hysterics, and the only time that I feel totally out of control of my bipolar disorder. It's the only time I feel like my disorder has me, instead of vice versa.

Somehow this leads to thinking of Daniel. I had talked to Melissa two nights ago on the phone, one of those "we really should talk more often" conversations in which way too much is discussed in way too short a period. And I filled her in on the weird place losing her and Daniel in the same six months left me. She suggests that I practice opening up to people more, and it occurs to me that it's not opening up that I have a problem with. It's the futility of opening up to most people.

Why do we love who we love? Why do we trust who we trust? Why do we respect who we respect? Why are some people inescapable, and others you lose all too soon?

And so last night, outside the Pepper Place, I realize that one of the biggest draws about Daniel over fifteen or seventeen years was Big Ideas. Through all the bullshit, overcoming all of the traits that he has that I don't like, beating out all the things that didn't work about the friendship -- what kept Daniel at the top of my most important people list was the fact that I could talk to him about all the billions of things that run through my head, the abstract ideas, the get-rich-one-day schemes, musical ideas, film ideas, story ideas, feelings, emotions -- and he didn't just listen. He didn't just respond. He responded in such a way that -- in agreement or not -- my ideas were forced to evolve. He was a sounding board, but one that reflected the acoustics back in a new way. It was hearing from a fresh perspective. It was looking through a billion funhouse mirrors.

I don't know if this is clear at all, or totally incomprehensible. But there was something unique about our interaction on so many things. It's not based on agreement, or disagreement, or commonalities (maybe that last one, a little bit). The only thing that comes to mind in Analogy Land is a pace runner, someone who runs just a bit ahead of or behind a track runner to keep them moving forward all the time.

And that's what's missing from my life. A sounding board that reflects things in new ways to me, that forces me to keep moving forward. And to me, that's a lot -- because my mind is always racing, and if I don't get these thoughts out, they fester in my head. And if they don't move forward, evolve, then what good are they?

I have vivid pictures of my head exploding. Like SCANNERS, only less funny.

-----

A brief sidenote detour: my email horoscope just arrived. And it says this:

"You're not used to grappling with someone who's your intellectual equal, but admit it: It's kind of exciting. Turning this competition to cooperation might be even more of a thrill."

Somewhere out in Emailworld, there's a really stupid person reading this exact same mail. And that amuses me.

-----

Something I realized in the shower this morning.

And stop that. I do more than soap up and self-gratify in the morning.

HAH! Did you throw up a little, in your mouth?

Something I realized in the shower this morning is that I'm a very fortunate person. I've known a lot of really talented people in my life -- not just known, but come into close contact with and been liked or loved by them. I'm in a band with one of the most giftedly creative musical people I've ever known, and a really strong jack-of-all-trades with a good feel for networking. My friend David in Baltimore is a brilliant actor and one of the most charismatic front-person (musically) you'll ever meet. Daniel's got a brilliant ear and, often, an outside-the-box approach to music. Jessica's a wonderfully creative visual artist. Melissa's acting.

And it's sad to have let so many of those people go. David's in Baltimore and we rarely get a chance to speak, much less visit (we're both of the starving artist variety). Jessica and Daniel have got personality traits that I just can't cope with, and while that's sad, my brain creates worlds in which they were able to overcome those issues and life is golden. Melissa and I are still friends, but you can't ever go back comfortably once you do what I did, so we'll never be as close as I'd hope in an ideal world.

But maybe that's okay? I mean, of course it is, on some levels. It has to be okay, because that's the way it is. Period.

So it goes.

But maybe it's better than okay, too. There's a song lyric: "Maybe departure's good / makes room for more."

Not sure where all this is going. Just trying to keep my head from fissuring.

Urban Legends Reference Pages: Liger: "
As noted above (in text that seems to have been taken directly from a February 2005 Daily Mail article), Hercules was the result of an accident rather than deliberate breeding. He is three years old, stands 10 feet tall on his hind legs, and weighs about 1,000 lbs. (At maturity he is expected to reach 12 feet in length and weight about 1,250 lbs.) He eats about 20 lbs. of meat (beef or chicken) per day, and he can consume up to 100 lbs of food in one sitting. "

PowerPlay 5.1 Pro-Media Chair: "5 Phase-aligned Satellite Speakers
Powered 10” Subwoofer
505 Watt RMS 6 Channel Amplifier
5.1 Dolby Digital, DTS 96/24, Dolby Pro Logic II Decoding
THX Certification
6 Inputs, 2 Digital, 4 Analog
Headphone Output
Powered Tactile Transducer"

Not to sound bitter, but...

I'm looking at the City Stages lineup, and I'm noticing that a lot of the local folk that are slated to play this year are the same people that play year after year after year -- not necessarily the biggest or most popular, either.

Let's call them the best connected.

And this shouldn't surprise me, and honestly doesn't, but still...

Still.

I've played City Stages twice now -- once with Full Moon Blanket, once with the Exhibit(s). And both times it was a blast, even if both times were the opening slots for the given day, meaning no crowd (no one shows up that early; just the way it goes), blistering heat, etc. And it's great fun to play through a big sound system, and to have a huge stage upon which to run about and make Rawk Star Faces, but the main reason we played -- we didn't get paid, and I understand this to be the case with local acts in general -- was exposure.

Not much of that happening at noon on Sunday. Or Saturday, for that matter.

Argh. Why am I bitching about this? It's old news. It's not changing anytime in my lifetime. It's the way of the world, for that matter.

But it still sucks...

You know what's fun?

Waking up every thirty minutes to vomit.

You know what's more fun?

Spending the dawn hours vomiting blood.

I'm pretty sure that something is not well inside my guts.

But I feel fine now. So how 'bout them apples?

Oh, shit. Shouldn't have thought of solid food...

We can all dream.

Quick, everyone, look at the funny blogger man who's suddenly very overly-conscious of people reading this...

Is this karma, me living through what I imagine I've put so many others through, or is it simply me being a self-imagined martyr?

Yeah. That about sums it up.

I wish I could clarify, for myself, in myself, what it is I'm feeling, what I'm thinking.

Or maybe I wish I had something more concrete in the way of an answer. But that concrete something should be positive. Which, of course, is why I don't ask, because I'm pretty sure it's not.

Love kills slowly. Hope dies last.

Happy Wednesday, fuckers.