Be it For the Better Part of Man—

Uproot yourself.

Refuse the easy path, respectfully. You may need it later. You will. But… you do not need it now.

Close your eyes and breathe. Open them again when you are calm. Watch the spider in the open window begin to weave a web that you’ll resolve not to destroy. Do not be afraid of the spider. Exist with it.

This is going to be difficult. That is the process. The process of re-wiring your mind.

The only reason you are doing this, is because you want to do this. Otherwise you would not do it. You have learned to listen to your body. It is time to listen to your mind.

Sit mindfully with your thoughts, and observe them without judgment. Let them go.

Imagine yourself from a top-down view, pretending that there is no roof between you and the endless open sky. The sky you sit beneath envelops everything. The clouds that you may watch drift slowly from your field of view in stillness are the water and the breath of the world recirculating. This breath fills your lungs as it does everybody’s. This water will become you. And soon after it will leave, becoming something else. You will remain. Always changing. Moment to moment. This is the process.

Connect the room you’re sitting in to the rooms around you. Imagine the occupants. You know they are there. They exist. You cannot feel them, maybe. Acknowledge them. They are here. So are you.

Expand the locus of your imagined, top-down view. Place yourself within the city. Place yourself amidst the trees. Place yourself in your environment. Realize where you are, because you are there.

Stay calm.

Expand the locus of your view.

There is a whole world’s worth of this. You are in it. Alive, breathing. Right now. When you think about tomorrow, do not worry. It will be here soon, and if things go well, so will you. Do the best you can in any moment. This is the process.

Re-learn the things that make you happy.

You realized once, on acid, that the reason you were not happy was because you had ceased to do the things that make you happy. You must entertain the possibility that these things will change. You may have to learn to do something new. But you’re here because you want to. That is the process.

You are in control of it. You can do anything you want to.

And right now, you are.

Image Credit: Getty

Youtube Rabbit Hole: My first experience at Denny’s (I survived)

current writing projects

Thought I’d update the ol’ portfolio about What The Fuck Is Going On. Current list, up to date, haven’t mentioned anything I’ve been doing lately aside from the tweets, which are always cooking in the lab. Anyway, on my plate we’ve got a healthy, balanced meal.

  • A screenplay about horses and horse racing (it’s a collabo)
  • A listicle about pop culture’s gayest children (for online)
  • Been thinking pretty hard lately about maybe doing a project of some sort having something to do with the topic of local beer
  • poem about my mom (4th revision)
  • There’s this email in my draft folder for this thing that I wrote just way, way too long while I was a little xanned out one night, and I need to edit it and send it but I’ve just been putting it off, putting it off, putting it off, you know how it goes. I also need to send a text message saying “no” to someone but it’s really hard to pull the trigger because I dislike conflict.
  • I’ve also been working on an English translation of Prima Games’ strategy guide book for Final Fantasy IV Wonderswan Color Version for about fifteen years

I was doing all of these earlier but I got distracted by this great archive and now it’s 5 in the morning.

I love my life; my life is great and I love being involved in it

    Take a Cotton to Fantastic Slights

    The first thing I did when the Son of God materialized in my living room one night was take aim right between his eyes with a Tec-9 submachine gun. “Put up your hands, creep,” I told him. He responded by hovering in the air with arms outstretched, emitting warm light.

    “What in hell is the meaning of this?” I asked him. “You weren’t invited. You’re a goddamn vampire—I have to let you in.”

    “Do you know in your heart that I am Jesus Christ?”

    “I had a feeling. Nice robe. You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

    “I am here to wash away your skepticism; I’m here to welcome you into the light of the LORD. I exist, Sarah. I Am.”

    He spread out his hands full wingspan, emitting a golden glow. A gust of wind scented with the air from a far-off beach ruffled my hair, stinging my eyes; songbirds trilled; all around me I could hear a celestial chorus, angel voices, harmonizing in a language that I had never heard.

    After a moment of the strange sensations, I cleared my throat. “This is all very impressive, but seeing as how everything you’re doing can be done with illusive stagecraft and trickery, I choose to believe this is an elaborate prank. And also, felony trespassing.”

    “I am your one choice for salvation!”

    At which point my trigger finger shivered and I blew off Jesus’ head. He hit the floor like a twenty-pound sack of rotten Idaho potatoes. The glow went out of him like that.

    “Oh, Jesus!” I shouted to the room, suddenly empty. There’s something about the violent death of the only other person in the room to make you feel acutely aware of how utterly alone you are. How open to attack you are by, say, an air-to-sea high holy missile, which will probably be arriving imminently, as soon as the G-man hears you’ve killed his son.

    Which only raises further questions. How does this message get relayed? There’s no witnesses. Does he already know? They’re the same person. Oh my lord, what if I just killed them both?

    I peeked out the window and saw the fabric of the world dissolving, ripping apart from itself like wheat in a thresher. “Oh, fuck,” I said. “I’ve destroyed reality.”

    At which point I put down the machine gun and began to perform CPR on Jesus. Blood spurted from his lower abdomen, where three bullets penetrated him below the ribcage. A fourth took off part of his ear, and a fifth one went into his eye. The other eye was staring, unfixed, and I was like, this motherfucker’s dead. And as I was breathing a rescue breath into his mouth, it occurred to me, hell, he’s come back from worse, right? Rome killed him last time, and Rome was friggin’ brutal.

    Which reminded me of the Resurrection. Of course. I dipped a finger into the ashtray and drew a crude crucifix on my forehead, hoping this would stave off any possible attack from the Undead Risen Christ. And then I took the machine gun back into my grip. Backed a chair into a corner. Peered out the window, from behind the curtains, carefully. Outside, stars were blinking out of the night sky, leaving nothing but a yawning dome of infinite black. Well, no takesies-backsies. Excepting a few beautiful flowers indigenous to the island of Japan, this universe sucked dick. As it collapses, I empty my clip into the once-sheltering sky. Thus we surfboard into nonexistence. Friends, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I hope you have time to grab a Bud Dry before the end, here, and forgive me. I simply know not what I do.

    Photo Credit: Getty


    a comment to the cops and their many ardent fans

    Watch this video, and listen to what the officer says to Breaion King, who works as a teacher in Texas. Listen to his advice.

    You hear what he said, how chilling it was? The diabolical nature of his certitude? The confusion on her face, and then, the realization that he is not seeing her? Trapped, captive, she realizes that she has all-but-nothing to do with this. It’s what she looks like, and how that makes him feel, that got her captured in this way. She was arrested for his feelings.

    “Violent tendencies,” he said. “I want you to think about that.  I’m not saying anything, I’m not saying that it’s true. I’m not saying that I can prove it or nothing. But 99 percent of the time when you hear about stuff like that, it is the black community that’s being violent. That’s why the white community are afraid… and I don’t blame them.”

    And I hear this sort of sentiment *all the time* in white rooms, indignant white people, white cops, white security. I’m calling you out. This sort of thinking is a problem.

    The Austin police chief promptly apologized publicly and profusely to the victim and ordered an administrative investigation into the details of the stop. That’s not the problem. Actually, that’s fantastic. That’s a way we can move forward. And much forward movement needs to be done.

    Let’s go down this, line by line. The remark was made as part of a discussion on race, and the officer begins: “I think a lot of people are afraid of black people.” He rephrases it, rhetorically. “Why are so many people afraid of black people?”

    “That’s what I want to figure out,” Breaion replies. “Because I’m not a bad black person.”

    “I can give you a really good idea why it might be that way.”


    “Violent tendencies.” Stated as a fact, with no evidence or elaboration, about all black people.

    “I want you to think about that.  I’m not saying anything, I’m not saying that it’s true.” But you believe it’s true. 

    “I’m not saying that I can prove it or nothing.” You believe it is true, and you wish it could be proven. You know it for a fact in your heart, and that’s good enough. 

    “But 99 percent of the time when you hear about stuff like that, it is the black community that’s being violent.” Shockingly, insanely untrue. What is “stuff like that”? Is it acts of violence? Ninety-nine percent of acts of violence are the work of the black community? You said this.

    “That’s why the white community are afraid… and I don’t blame them.” Because I agree.

    You say no cop gets up and wants to go commit race violence. You say no cop wakes up and wants to kill. My father was a cop. I agree with you. That’s not the problem. The problem is all of the people who think exactly the same as this guy here. The people who enforce laws selectively, with selective degrees of force, against threats as they perceive them. No cop gets up in the morning and wants to kill—they just want to go to work, do their job, come home safe. Some people see the world a certain way, and until that kind of thinking can be trained out of them, they will see it on the job. They’ll incorporate their racism into their work. They will keep their communities safe, well-intentioned, satisfying their definition of safety. They’re not bad people. They’re not trying to hurt anybody.

    But they are.

    And they must stop.

    It’s very hard to bite my tongue about this sort of thing.

    Violent tendencies. I want you to think about that.

    Video Credit: New York Times

    Nom Like a Child

    So I’m reading garbage forum posts on the internet, like I do, because it’s fun to me to lurk around reading the thoughts of oddballs who guilelessly reveal strange things about their life when I have time to kill. It’s that, memes, video games, and then books. This is if I don’t have a new issue of Harper’s. Harper’s is extremely good. Anyway, I am becoming infinitely dumber as I age, so I read more trash perhaps than I used to.

    Doing this, I come across a guy, thirty-something, talking about his diet. It’s very funny to me. I’ll just repost it:

    This is a list of pretty much any meal I eat ever:

    -Steak and a baked potato with cheese and sour cream

    -cheeseburger with ONLY ketchup and mayo and potato chips

    -broiled fish (either whitefish or tilapia, no other kind) and clam chowder

    -fried chicken and jojos with ranch dressing

    -kung pao chicken and steamed white rice

    -beef and cheese burrito with tortilla chips and salsa

    -hamburger helper (classic) and potato chips

    -tuna helper (classic) and potato chips

    -buffalo wings and mozzarella sticks with marinara sauce

    -cheese ravioli with marinara sauce and garlic bread

    Holy shit! Aside from being a bulleted compendium of everything I ate today, that’s hilariously bad. I find people with bad diets like this to be very funny, especially when they go on, like this guy, to claim supertaster status, genetic issues, or that a vegetable in their mouth literally makes them vomit, instead of considering that their issue might just be psychological. Imagine going your whole life eating only this! Never crunching a delicious apple! No wedge salads! I mean, fuck health—I don’t even see any cake in here. Or eggs florentine! Fucccck. So salty. So colorless!

    That diet is a damn kid’s menu. That diet is a carbohydrate death injection. That shit makes my chest ache. We have finally found the formula to turn a heart literally to stone.

    Anyway, the word of the hour is bleph·a·ro·spasm. Blepharospasm. It refers to an involuntary tight closure of the eyelids. Sounds scary. So dark in here!!!

    Do not lean into negative emotions. Everyone is scared and petty. Balance the world with your smile.

    Photo Credit: Applebee’s

    Current Meal Status: Applebee’s

    Sometimes You Want to Go: Where Everybody Knows Your Name (Which, for me, is Applebee’s)