I am in New York this weekend, apartment hunting. I scored a roundtrip ticket and two nights at the Waldorf Astoria for less than $600. Part of me wants to keep this a secret, because its just so damn special, this whole Travelocity.com weekend getaway thing... where they offer amazing deals on flight/hotel combo packages. But I'll let the cat out of the bag, whatever the hell that means. Often times you can get the flight and hotel for less than the price of the flight on its own. Last weekend was the same. I also just scored round trip airfare and a week at a hotel in the center of Paris for $569. For another $200 I got another week. [Granted, these are two star hotels, but they will do] I will spend two weeks there at a school studying French after our shows in Atlanta, and before our shows in NY. Don't say no one gave you the heads up. Great deals can be found out there with how competitive travel is now. You can live like a king on a pauper’s ransom. It’s awesome.

The best idea I have had so far is to put everything I own into storage and just travel around for a while. just go from place to place. Been speaking to Giovanna lately. Turns out she is moving from Rome to Egypt to open up a café. May go hang out with her a few days.

The most amazing dinner tonight at the waldorf. the best one I have had in recent memory. Beef tenderloins, cheese crusted mashed potatoes, sautéed artichokes, roasted vegetables, and a pinot noir to wash it all down. God it was good. 

A brilliant haircut by Federico at John sahag. Hadn't seen him in over a year. He is Italian so I told him about my trip to Italy last year to trace the roots of my family, hopping in planes, trains, and taxi cabs going from town to town all over the country meeting people and introducing myself and asking them about my family and all. He says it sounded like an American movie. Indeed it does. “Hey. And you coming over here from Italy to be a world famous hair stylist in new York city sounds like a movie,” I tell him. “And look at this, you made it.”

I went to central park to smoke and write tonight because there is a smoking ban in the entire city now. you can’t smoke anywhere in public. I can understand cigarettes of course, but cigars? The nerve. Anyway, I did find a few groovy smokers lounges where men go to smoke and drink. That was cool. but I wanted some fresh air with my smoke. So I hit the park. At night. with all the homeless people. There was this hunched over old black guy on the bench sitting about ten feet away from me. I called to him, ‘should I be scared? Sitting here?’ “How do I know? I'm not.” “Yeah but you're black. And from what it looks like, poor. I'm white and middle class. We’re scared of everything” “Aint you something. asking me that.” “Look man, I'm just asking, is it safe or not? If I'm going to whip out a laptop and start smoking and writing and relax here, I want to make sure that one of ya’ll isn't going to jump me in five minutes. You know, with all due respect and all.” “Man you’s crazy. You aint from here, that's for sure? Where you from?” “I live in Miami right now. I'm moving back here now. Ten years ago, you'd never sit in central park at night with your computer on your lap.” “You probly shouldn’t be doing it now. But you do what you want. I'll watch out for ya.” “Thanks man.” Passersby keep staring at me like who the fuck is that white kid sitting on the benches with his laptop with all those homeless guys... is he just crazy? no one knows what to think. But the Transcendence Diaries don't sleep. They just keep going and going.

Think Less Do More

Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. Think less. Do more. 

Quantum Entanglement

Scientists have now discovered that the heart sends approx 100 times more messages to the brain than the reverse, and thus it is the heart that is the primary driving mechanism of what we call conscious thought. 


Furthermore, that based on thirty years of clinical trials, and electrical signal measurements, the heart has the capacity to perceive events in a person's future three to five seconds before the event occurs. Ever have that happen? We dismiss it NOW, because we've been wrongly taught to. But science is speeding along faster than most people realize, coming closer to agreeing with many of the basic tenets of ancient spiritual traditions than most so-called, scientifically minded people, yet understand. 


One day the atheists/humanists/logical pragmatists of the world are going to wake up and discover that science doesn't agree with them, and that it is they who now live in the dark ages, not because they subscribe to (what they categorize as) supernatural spiritual fluff, but because they don't yet recognize that it was never fluff to begin with. It just took science a while to catch up to what others "knew" all along. To really get your mind blown check out the theory of Quantum Entanglment next time you find yourself wondering if or doubting that ESP, psychicism, telekinesis and the like exist. It's in the science now. No longer theoretical. And no longer is "faith" needed. Just more understanding of the mechanisms behind these heretofore mysteries and phenomena. Getting there faster than I'd see in my lifetime. Exciting stuff.

Cleopatra... made me who I am today. I had never had that kind of support before. her excitement and her belief in me. it was blind. And it gave me the kind of support that I had never had before. God I loved her for that. forgot about it for a while. Do I now have it in me to do it on my own? do I believe in myself? Without the belief or support from anyone else? I can barely breathe at the thought of it, but I believe that I finally starting to believe in myself. All on my own.

LAST SCREENING: the last king. An A&E three hour movie about King Charles the II, truly, the last real king of England. This is a great movie. As soon as it is over you want to see it again. great history. Great story. Great acting. One has no idea how impactful the catholic church was in humankind’s history. England was the first country to stand up to papal rule. Because of them, we are all finally safe from that tyranny that was once so brutal and omnipotent. See this film.

Not much to report. Work and more work. Back and forth with dear Juliet through letters. We are at the other side of the eye of the storm so to speak we decide. Now ready to accept and honor surely one of the greatest and rewarding friendships of our lifetimes I am sure.

Encountered a beautiful Arabic woman on the subway today. struck up a wonderful conversation about my difficulty with the French language. She is an interpreter so I was most intrigued to make her acquaintance. When I explain to her a few of my many reasons for asserting that French is the most difficult of the Latin languages at first she argues with me. I ask her to count with me in French then. as we get past the number seventy, she begins to laugh and my case was quite proved. In French they do not have a word for seventy or any other number above it. instead they say soixante-dix, the words sixty plus ten. and for the word eighty they use the term sixty plus twenty you would assume, yes? wrong, instead they say quatre-vingts, which means four times twenty. For eighty-seven they say quatre-vingt-sept, or four times twenty plus seven. And of course for the simple word of ninety they say quatre-vingt-dix, four times twenty plus ten. o.k., it can be mastered, but It is no wonder it is difficult at first for foreigners to say the least to understand the thinking. learning languages is like working out puzzles.

In any case, we reveled in this mystery for a time and then we hit my stop. And that was that. I must say I understand why people say it is difficult to meet their mate here. although obviously not too daunting a task since plenty of people do it everyday. But what do you say to a beautiful intelligent woman on a train when you arrive at your stop. “oh I think I will stay on for a while and just ride this baby into the end of the line. I have nothing better to do... I thought about this as I got off the train, never to see this girl again.

Last screening: 3 part PBS biography about Benjamin Franklin. What a man. Impressive in his accomplishments as a writer, businessman, inventor, and of course American diplomat, revolutionary and statesmen, but I had no idea he was such a schmuck as a man personally to his wife and son. I learned a lot about him. and was inspired on a great many accounts. He was our closest American equivalent to Da Vinci. A real renaissance man.

The watched pot does indeed boil by the way, lest one advise you any different. I checked it out for myself.

The White Bear Comes A Knockin'

Seems our lives, as if not already limited enough, are about to be, or already are depending on the bar you hang out in in cyberspace, ensnared in a '144 characters or less' world of no goodness, as I was unable to post to your wall much of anything other than the usual "whatup dog?" which though mildly amusing like a morning rub and tug are not nearly enough to sustain or feed us to the point of providing real heel kicking call a good friend and scream into the phone "Goddamn I'm happy! Aren't you?!" joy, the kind that some of us still claim as one of our rights for the mere fact that we've made it this far. So I figured I'd throw you a note while my able bodied team continues to work out the kinks to our big move to "dedicated servers." Meaning yours truly cannot post freely on his own turf due to CPU overages they claim are due to traffic violations on the information super highway. So here's that ten-year note. Or is it twenty? Either way, it's been a long time. Too long.

For those in the know (readers of the Transcendence Diaries), this is where Fishy reconnects with White Bear, the beer belching bourbon loving bearded bard of infinite alliteration who mentored young Fishy in his college years while he called Atlanta GA home for a few years. And so, after many, many, many years, the reply to the unexpected electronic letter that appeared from nowhere went something like this.

Dear White Bear,
As older brothers go... I've been missing you too; for years my friend. In response to your question, yeeaap (not too long but slightly drawn out) I was wondering the same thing... I feel our spheres are close enough to share a drink or a two-hour chat now and then. (and they don't call me the ambassador for nothing. I find it awfully difficult to not get along with just about anyone truth be told. Not always to my benefit. But certainly to theirs.) I wholeheartedly agree with you on the Kennedys. Thought Bobby was the White Knight we'd been waiting for for decades. Idolize the man. Love but hate the behavior of the dark forces that took him from us, those same forces that now seem to control everything except my left nut, though even that I wouldn't bet on.

In terms of money and fame, I've haphazardly and ironically made a fortune over the years while chasing that ever-elusive dream of stardom seemingly forever intent on ignoring my imagined greatness. Unlike you, I'm not interested in money. Just give me the influence so I can help right the Becks and O'Reillys of the world. I'm glad we're still playing at the same table on that front, but I do lean more toward the "you don't really believe they're working for different people still do ya?" view. David Icke et al. (Oh how i would love to see you laugh that one out in person) But truly I bailed on all those left versus right legends long ago and tend to operate somewhere outside of but in between it all. Some people refer to it as conspiracy theory (which I find fallacious because that would imply something "secret" and there is no longer anything secret about the self-serving cabal of blood thirsty murdering fuckhead bastards that rules all governments of the world at this point.) Others call it libertarianism I've heard, but I haven't had time to check. I just call it being human. Fluid. Bamboo. Never stop researching.

One thing I'll tell ya is that your influence was a great and mighty one on the young Fishy, once known as Ed Hale, then Eddie Darling, then Guess Darling, and eventually the pretentious as all hell Ambassador. Wrote like a mother f*&ker for 20 straight years based on your many deep-voiced mid-of-night suggestions and ended up with a ridiculously over-weighted 5000 page novel series called The Adventures of Fishy, spent eight years blogging from it (based on a suggestion from another brother from a different mother who you might equally enjoy we call G2) to something called the Transcendence Diaries. See it here: www.transcendencediaries.com. Some damn good passages in there. A few I'm actually proud of. And not a year went by that I didn't wonder what you'd think as I pounded those keys. Thank you for that.

By the way. Got married recently. You may remember my hopeless romantic ideals that true love really does exist somewhere out there if we just wait for it that I would occasionally espouse during those obligatory late night talkies (did we actually get college credit for those as you once told me?) Well it turns out that for once I was right. It does. Sometimes it may right under our noses... PLT, better known to readers as Princess Little Tree, had and has been my best friend for over seven years when I finally proposed to her on a row boat in the middle of a lake in Central Park on the sunniest day the Good Lord ever created. But indeed you really do just have to wait for it. I had plenty of just about everything else; so I knew what I was looking for. And you know what it was? (still is...) A "Yes." Something we hear inside that we ourselves cannot muster up no matter how hard we try. One day I hope she gets the opportunity to meet you... I am sure she will consider it every bit the honor that I did way back when.

Very very good to hear from you my brother. Your presence was missed.
E (or F as the case may be)
;>

How Do We Know What We Know?

Yo dog, (welcome to the Transcendence Diaries by the way. I found the circumstance addressed below stimulating enough to warrant some further thought; and ink. Or bits as we would now say in these modern GEL times)

I'll tell ya, you and the fam have the most uncanny way of asking good questions. (Your father's "That's all great Ed, but how is your soul?" comes to mind...) In any case, post GEL i did notice a bit of stuck attention on how best to answer your question "But HOW did you know, these things? In what WAY did you know them?" in regards to the knowledge one gains from hallucinogens. It was a great question. And of course it is one that has been answered tens of thousands of times in books by aldous huxley, albert hoffman, tim leary ram dass, carlos castendea, pauo coelho, alan watts, thomas merton, etc... But in the moment i did find it a challenge in an elevator pitch to explain how do we know the knowledge that we gain is actually knowledge and not just "a thought/idea/vision/hallucination/wishful thinking etc" Yes of course we are stimulating other regions of the brain and therefore accessing knowledge stored there whenever we ingest or take anything that stimulates other areas of the brain that we do not normally have easy access to. But that really isnt an answer to "how do we know the knowledge." That may be the explanation as to "how do we gain this new knowledge" but it isn't an answer to "how do we know we actually are learning new knowledge.

It was a brilliant question. Due to the fact that it was such an honest, simple, and direct question. No bullshit academic posturing. Just a very simple and sincere and earnest question from curiosity. Which is we know (how do we know even this?) the place where much of our collective knowledge comes from. That healthy curiosity for truth, knowledge, and understanding that many possess. I realized that the question was bigger than the specific frame it was in and could be applied to knowledge itself. How DO we KNOW anything? I believe that in that brief moment you mentioned "empirical data" - something i struggled with for years in college as a philosophy major undergrad, and then later have had to deal with on an almost daily basis being in the health-sciences industry for so many years. In the arena of science it all comes down to empirical data...

Realizing this led me to spend some time on Sunday contemplating knowledge itself with your particular question as the backdrop. It brought up the age old quandary of 'how do we know that we know what we know?' Reflecting on the work of Loren Elsley, Descartes, Kant, and Aristotle to name a few and 20 years ago it would have been easy to answer the question from a more philosophical point of view that often ends up the final answer in philosophical debate after that last cup of coffee and the last cigarette has been put out (philosophical meaning "impossible to know for sure and therefore all sides can most likely be true. Or false. Depending on how you look at it...") in other words, we know simply because we know. This is what "i" believes and I am aware enough to recognize that some "you" may believe the opposite is true. But in the end, as with many things, "I" chooses to know this.

But we're not in college anymore. (Ok, well actually you are... once more) and we aren't sitting in a dark cafe after having to deliver this week's thesis on "free will versus determinism." So after all these years, and thought, and reading and studying, and consciousness exploration had we come any further in being able to answer the question, "But how did you know?" My mind kept escaping to the safe confines of the most obvious answer that minds do when confronted with such a question, that is: "because i just knew/know." But that won't fly half as convincingly as proving your knowledge of gravity simply by tossing someone off of a ten story building. "Now that's some empirical evidence for ya."

So how to make the leap from said ten story building to the ground without getting smashed to a thousand bloody pieces and still prove your knowledge of gravity is true and valid... Eventually i came upon the idea of sexual orientation. Don't ask me why. It is certainly better than the leap to "God" or "the soul" or "the after life" as these are still areas of knowledge up for grabs as to what we really know of them, if anything... but yes... sexual orientation was one that anyone would be hard pressed to argue with. Simply because most people are quite comfortable with their sexual orientation. Which is, when we break it down, nothing more than "knowledge that we possess or at least think we possess and believe is true" - and yet empirically speaking is entirely unprovable. You could ask a person till you are both blue in the face "but how do you KNOW that you are heterosexual?" and the answer is always going to inevitably be "because i just do. That's how." Which is, for the time being, until we are able to isolate the 'sexual orientation dna molecule' and have it imprinted on our own personal 'identity chip' along with thousands of other identifying datum and simply slip it into our hand-held computer and show the person, "there, you see? I am clearly heterosexual. Nuff said."

But such technology does not yet exist, at least not in the common world that we live in today. It indeed might already exist in a few labs around the planet. (Note to self: purchase one.) So what we are left with is what we have always been left with in terms of what we believe we "know," in the field of "knowledge." That is, "I simply know. Just as I know that I am sexually orientated toward being heterosexual.

In regards to the knowledge one gains from consciousness exploration using plants, herbs, seeds or even synthetic compounds such as MDMA or LSD, it comes to us much the same way that most of what we now "currently hold to be true" comes to rest in our individual reality spheres. We listen, we observe, we ingest the data, contemplate, ruminate, compare, contrast, combine with previously filed data... all in a matter of milliseconds of course.... and what we end up with are either questions or conclusions. In a healthy mind most likely a combination of both.

I believe that the first bit of knowledge that I shared with you that one might perceive from experimenting with hallucinogens is "my soul is immortal." (a conclusion, like much of what we claim to know, that in the world of philosophy we believe certainly begs the question, because it hasn't even answered the question as to whether a soul exists or not - one of the fundamental philosophical dilemmas.) But a foregone conclusion for many. For me it was a bit of data that somehow made the leap from 'intellectually curious idea to think about' to 'relatively certain.' Now mind you, I did not say "YOUR soul is immortal," nor "ALL souls are immortal." Because another bit of data/knowledge that one gains from exploring consciousness with hallucinogens is "What might be true for one person may not be true for another. Therefore I may indeed possess a soul that is immortal, and someone else may not. And the likelihood of that reality is directly correlated with what THAT PERSON believes." Which one could argue is actually TWO more bits of data, not one. Which then leads to another understanding, that is "Consciousness, hence the perception of reality, and therefore perhaps even reality itself, is NOT made up of absolutes; but rather a collection of many possibilities that very well might be absolutes, even contradicting ones, but that all seem to be able to coexist simultaneously." An alarming bit of knowledge when one first encounters it in their explorations. But actually comforting after one settles into it and begins to contemplate its implications.

Much of the bloodshed among humankind over the last ten-thousand years has been due to the assertion that one group's set of absolutes is more true or valid or right than another's. Whole civilizations have been wiped off the face of the earth because of this seemingly innate though primitive and evolutionarily declining need to "be right," or to believe that WHAT we believe so must others. Some people, many people actually still today, seem to believe that if they believe something then it is impossible for the opposite to also be true at the same time. But this is one of the first bits of knowledge one gains from intense or even playful consciousness exploration - whether through experimentation with hallucinogens or through other means such as meditation etc.

Indeed my own belief is that we live in a large and expansive enough universe that it has the capacity to hold many 'seemingly' conflicting or contradicting realities simultaneously. For example, I believe in a heaven – based on the idea that in the Super String Model of physics we may be looking at a universe with anywhere from ten to twelve dimensions, and therefore this idea of ‘heaven’ that we have created may indeed exist in one of these other dimensions. I also believe in reincarnation – depending on WHAT that particular person believes, so shall he/she experience at the time of the death of their body and the passing of their soul. I also believe that there are still others who still believe in “hell” though I myself do not believe in such a place, I do understand that there may be others who DO believe in such a place, and therefore may be creating it, that just like heaven it would exist in one of these other dimensions that we are still completely ignorant of, and yes, THEY might actually go to ‘hell’ simply because they are so convinced that such a place exists. This might be true for them. And therefore an absolute even in consciousness and in the universe. But it might not be true for me, or someone else.

I also hold it to be true that consciousness itself is capable of this as well. (whether one wants to reduce that down to mere 'human consciousness' or include 'all known and unknown consciousness in the known and unknown universe’ is up to them) But to me it is entirely plausible, and provable since I myself am able to do it, that a mind can believe in two apparently conflicting or contradicting absolutes simultaneously. (I believe that most people do not give consciousness enough credit. They believe it is smaller and more limited in power than it actually is, and most tend to believe that a person is only capable of believing one side of an idea at a time, i.e. one is either a theist or an atheist. Though it is entirely possible for a person to be both.) One can also believe in free will AND determinism at the same time, and many do and just don't realize it, even though the ideas blatantly contradict each other. Most people tend to believe in a subtle and convoluted combination of both theories, myself included, and would find it very difficult to explain empirically. Especially since ‘determinism’ itself implies and downright necessitates a ‘something’ doing the determining. Now whether this is an alive and aware “God,” or simply a Divine Force, or another force at play in the universe like gravity or electro-magnetism – such as ‘The Unified Field Theory’ that we have simply not yet discovered, or our “higher selves,” or something else entirely – such as angels, spirit guides, our own selves in a different dimension or a different place in space-time, “I” don't yet know. Which is to say that I currently hold many ideas/absolutes to be true simultaneously. Confusing for some. Outright blasphemy to others. Poppycock to still others. And the beauty of it is that WE ARE ALL RIGHT. AND WRONG.

That, there, in a nutshell, in regards to your question as to ‘what sort of knowledge does one get from doing hallucinogens, is perhaps one of the greatest bits of knowledge one acquires from the activity. The idea that there are many absolutes all possibly/probably occurring at once and that it is not only possible, but it’s also “o.k.,” or that there is no such thing as an absolute. The only one or two that I have been able to come up with so far in my own life is/are: “I am.” “I am here.” and “So are you and them.” And that's about it...

From there, the next that follow are “I do not know where I came from.” “I do not know who I am, except that “I” am “I.” “I do not know where I am,” or “where this is.” Of course we pretend that we do know the answers to these questions, because we have created words and labels and ideas behind them, in order to not all go mad. We call ourselves “human.” And we call “here” “the earth/the here-now/the milky way galaxy,” etc. But these are all man-made words, labels, theories, and ideas. The truth is that none of this is true. It is all man-made. We can call ourselves “human,” but we still have no idea who we are, what we are, where we came from, why we are here, where we are, or where we are going.

Though I can tell you that based on what I currently believe that I am “heterosexual.” Hope this answers your questions. Thank you for the food for thought. Enjoyed it. See ya later today. Fishy

Implementing Plan B -- Maintaining Relationships 21st Century Style

A few days ago I hit the Send/Receive button to download email, a task that has become so ubiquitous in our lives, so obligatory, that one would assume that by now someone would have come up with some way to profit from it. After all if everyone and their brother is doing it, why not make some money from it. For all the would be entrepreneurs out there, the idea is yours. Take it and run with it. I'm too fucking busy. Which is the primary theme of today's rant. Indeed, anyone with half a brain should be able to think of some way to generate a decent and regular revenue stream just from attaching a product or service to anything that people do on a regular basis. Right before our eyes, sending and receiving email has turned into one of those tasks. Think of the possibilities in regards to other activities that we currently do on a regular basis. There's toilet paper. Someone is making money there. There is food in general. Not to mention the boundless collection of accoutrement that accompanies human beings' need to eat daily. Tissue paper is one of those "if only I would have thought of it products. Simple, brainless, cheap and easy to make. And yet something that will never go out of style; unless of course we eventually evolve to a point where we no longer require noses to breathe with. Shoes are another. Human beings leave their places of shelter on occasion and when they do they are accustomed to not walking around barefoot anymore as in times past. Make shoes, make money. Human beings walk on a daily basis. Create a cheap and simple product or service that attaches itself to human beings newest daily obsession -- sending and receiving email -- and a rich man you will soon be.

But alas that is not the point of this ramble. Consider it a freebie in case you are right at this very moment plum ripe and ready for a new idea to make millions with and let us move on. Spam be damned, there are at least on most occasions a few hundred emails that pour into our lives relentlessly, unceasingly, and without mercy each day, for some of us each and every God for saken hour, that are actually important and require our attention. When did it happen? Truth be told I don't think anyone really knows. Long gone are the days when email was a novelty. That was quickly replaced by email being a luxury. And then that was soon replaced by email being a downright necessity. And I may be slightly ahead of the curve on this one, or perhaps just as always three steps past eccentric and downright off the chart crazy. But I am done with email. I dug email when it was a novelty. It gave me a sense of belonging to a special elite that could get things done faster and more efficiently than most. And I relished the ease at which I could communicate with more people at a faster rate than one ever could with traditional phone, fax, and letter writing.

When it became less novelty and more of a luxury I still enjoyed it. Even appreciated it. It gave me the freedom to not have to answer the phone nor make calls anymore, nor even write letters or send and receive faxes. And we still accomplished more than ever before. But something changed. Pretty soon the whole world had email and our lives have turned into one giant button pushing nightmare. Worse yet, we have added yet another "thing to collect" to our already over-crowded lives. Thousands and thousands and more thousands of emails. Now that email has become a necessity, an annoying bastard of a necessity at that, right up there taxes and presidents and the United States Post Office, I am thoroughly entirely and adamantly over it.

My friends laughed when I first announced that I was through with email. They thought I was joking. A few days ago I hit that send/receive button just for the sheer fuck all of it -- I had no intention of actually doing anything after I did so. After all, I hadn't actually read an email since August 5th and here it was September 2nd. Don't get me wrong. I still download them into my inbox. I might glance at them. But with over 5000 unattended and unreplied to and 1300 of them still unread, there just isn't much I can do at this point about it. One thing I did happen to notice as I watched the little demons speedily pour into my inbox like rats into a half rotted corpse was the subject line of an email from one of my employees. It said something to the effect of "If you are not going to answer my emails!!!"

"Uh oh" I thought. Better click on that one and see what's up. He was mad as hell. Turned out that he was the author of at least two or three of those 1300 unread emails that had already invaded my overcrowded and overwhelmed life. I read his email. The majority of it comprised of his personal feelings regarding how dare I not even bother to reply to him. Truth was I explained to him I just wasn't doing email anymore. It wasn't a personal reflection of how I felt about him. It wasn't a conscious decision mind you. It was just sort of something that happened. I travel too much. Work too much. Play too much. And after some reflection on the matter I realized that at some point in the last few months I had already made this subtle transition to texting being my preferred method of communication. Again it wasn't intentional. It just sort of happened. Upon further reflection I came to realize as reported above that I had not actually read an email since august 5th. I might give them a glance now and then. But I just cannot bring myself to do anything with them. There are just too many of them, and how do you decide whose to reply to or not? It is all so overwhelmingly unfair seeming. So one day I just stopped.

I explained to my friend and fellow conspirator that if he needed to reach me for something that he could either text me, or Facebook message me. He already knew I didn't answer my phone, check my voicemail, or return calls. That had stopped just about one year ago to this day. So it was useless to suggest that. He knew better. So after really thinking about it long and hard I decided that if he had to email me, he could always Skype, Facebook message or IM, or text me to alert me to the fact that he had indeed sent an email that I needed to attend to. In the real world what else can we really do at this point? Email is just so 2006. And there is no way that one person can sort, handle, and reply to all the email they receive everyday. At this point each of us need at least two to three people to be doing this task for us. And then what would THOSE people helping us do about their own email? A challenging dilemma for sure.

Well the old boy got the message and chose to Skype my phone with a text message relaying the content of his concerns. It worked like a charm. I was able to then Facebook message him the information he needed and all was well that ended well.

But it did get me thinking. I had been formulating a little something I had been referring to as "Plan B" over the last few months and just had not as of yet had a chance to officially implement it. What I had noticed was the following: There were more people I loved and cared about on the planet than I had time to engage with on a regular basis. Blogging certainly helps with that. So does YouTubing. Both vehicles allow us the opportunity to communicate with large numbers of our friends and fans in one go, at least just to say hello and fill them in on our latest goings on.

Texting is also a good way to do this. I have found that after a long day I might sit for ten to fifteen minutes and text ten to twenty people a hello and anything else that might be relevant to our respective relationship. Just to touch base or to pass on needed information. Facebook -- thank God and pray that he saves and preserves the sacredness of this beloved miracle app -- is also another great way to keep tabs on and stay in close proximity to our closest friends no matter how many miles separate us. The reason that the clean, pure, simple, and elegant Facebook so quickly gobbled up the cluttered, heavily commercialized, dragged down, messy, sloppy nuisance once called MySpace was that Facebook -- at least as of this writing -- actually helps us accomplish something -- quick, efficient, authentic and sincere communication with those we work with or love or care about. The interface is simple and clean and they keep the advertisements to a minimum. There is also the tendency for those of us who live and die within the confines of that beloved app to only make friends with those who we are actually friends with. No competition for who has the most friends nor the obligation to accept friend requests from people we don't know. Facebook is not about a popularity contest. It is about real communication with real people that we actually know AND care about. Let us pray it stays that way, or I can guarantee that the whole lot of us will be off that bandwagon as quickly as we jumped off of MySpace.

But still I did notice that in the last year my life had become so busy so quickly that I was letting my life get in the way of my living so to speak -- so much so that there were many, many people who I just was not finding the time to communicate with as much as I would have preferred.
They would call and I just always felt that I never had the time to answer. They would leave messages and again I just never had the time to check voicemail, let alone actually return calls. They would email, and by the time I saw the email months had passed. I found that I was missing out on one too many invitations to things and even more disturbing I was no longer connected to the outside world much at all. Not even to my own family or closest friends. Life had become more of a marathon. A mad dash so fast-paced that it turned weeks into feeling like days, and days that seemed to only last hours.

I first observed this when a close friend mentioned to me that she and the crew didn't bother inviting me to things anymore because I was so busy that they felt guilty inviting me out because they didn't want to make me uncomfortable by always having to decline the offers which she said I almost always invariably did. This made me sad. A few days later I learned that another friend was due to be married in less than a month and that I had completely missed the announcement and invitation. (I had stopped reading regular post mail about six months prior, choosing instead to just let it pile up in gigantic stacks all over the floor around me. So people already knew not to bother to send me anything by post.) A few days after this, one of my favorite friends -- a man I refer to as a brother and feel truly honored to do so -- gave me a real bitch slapping over the phone about how many times he had called me and not received a call back. He actually went so far as to warn that if I didn't make more effort in regular communication with him that he was going to write me off. I was obviously aghast. Shaken AND stirred. I loved The King. There wasn't much use in being The Ambassador without The King by my side. And lest we forget my mom's assertion that she felt that there was simply "no sense in calling you anymore. You never answer or call back. I just assume you are too busy and I just hope that you will still come home for Christmas." Sad really.

But the truth was and still is that I, being (at least in name) the so-called Ambassador, absolutely love people. Especially my close friends and family, of which I am lucky to have many. But I was quickly recognizing that if I didn't do something about this information and communication overload that had led me to this state of tuning out from the civilized world, that pretty soon there wasn't going to be anybody in my life to tune out.

I also noticed something else. I wasn't the only one in this disturbing predicament. I noticed that there were plenty of people in my life who were also feeling the time crunch and not taking calls or replying to emails anymore. As much as I wanted to be mad and lay down some guilt speech on them, I simply could not because I was probably the worst of all of us. And for good reason. We are all just too damn busy these days. Especially those of us who live in big metropolitan cities with too much to do and not enough money to clone ourselves yet.

After some quiet and sincere contemplation of the situation, and a few discussions with others about the matter I came to understand that one of the driving forces behind this new found isolation and lack of feeling free enough to even be able to take a phone call from a good friend was this subconscious feeling we were harboring that stated that "it has been so damn long since I have talked to so and so that when we DO finally talk it will have to take a long time and I just simply don't have the time to catch up with them right now. So I won't take their call right now, but I will call them "when I have the time."" The problem with this belief is that "when I have the time" never comes around. So we simply avoid reaching out because we are afraid that we "don't have the time." Before we know it, a year passes by. We wake up one day and realize "My God, I haven't talked to so and so in over a year. How could that be? Where did the time go?"

Well once I got clear on what the real problem was I decided that something needed to be done about it. This was the impetus of what I began to refer to as Plan B. Seeing that Plan A -- regular and consistent communication with our friends and loved ones through traditional means -- just wasn't working anymore. A few weeks ago I was deep in the mountains and forests of the Great Northwest taking some much needed time off from my regularly hectic life in a literal oasis of a destination spot overlooking a giant hundred story waterfall and river. That place is called Snoquami falls by the way and I recommend it to anyone who needs a week to shut down and recharge. I received a call from our good friend and sister whom we call Tuesday here in the Diaries. She was in shock that I answered the phone. "I can't believe you answered the phone! I thought I was just going to leave a message! If you're mailbox wasn't full that is..."

"Well Tuesday, welcome to Plan B," I replied. "What's Plan B?" she asked. "Simply put Tuesday Plan B states that we are all way too busy, overwhelmed, and overbooked these days and none of us are taking enough time in our days to even say hello to those most dear to us anymore. And this is a problem. Life is moving faster than it ever has it seems and one day I'm just afraid we are going to wake up and realize that we haven't spent enough time with those we love."

She agreed and we both had a good laugh acknowledging the strange tendency, for New Yorkers especially, to take pleasure in making plans to lunch, dine, see a movie, or just hang out with each other and then cancel at the last minute. If one doesn't live in New York they might find this hard to understand. But it is a very common trend amongst New Yorkers and one that many of us take for granted. Absolutely nothing is off limits in this game we all play with one another. Tuesday and I talked about the reasons for this new trend and decided that making the plan was enough to still give one that sense of security and friendship but that due to our hectic lifestyles that we actually gained more pleasure and satisfaction from being able to cancel and just get some quiet time than we would if we trekked off to some meeting or dinner with someone. Odd yes. But very common here in the big apple. It is not uncommon to book one's entire week both day and night with one thing or another to the point of jam-packed and overflowing and then cancel more than half of the things you agreed to attend. It's just the nature of life in the big city where there is always more to do than one can possibly fit in unless one has at least one to three clones to stand in for them for various different activities. (Note to the scientists out there: get working on cloning will ya! We need it!)

After our near hysterical laughing subsided, I proceeded to explain to Tuesday the details of Plan B and invited her to share it with others, spread it virally as quickly as possible, and also to actually partake in it with me so we could in fact see each other more than once a year. Remember this is Manhattan. None of us live more than a mile or two from each other. And yet it is very easy to go an entire year without actually hooking up. My hot and sexy, smart, cool and sassy pseudo-cousin Samantha and I were just Facebook IMing today and to our horror came to discover that we have not actually seen other face to face in three years and yet we live exactly 1.3 miles from each other. That is just so New York. If it weren't so goddamned typical it would be downright tragic. But neither of us reacted at all negatively, but rather just found it hilarious. We made plans of course to have dinner next Sunday but I'd be a fool to assert that I truly believe that either of us will actually make it to that dinner. "Next Sunday" might as well be 2010 as far as New York living goes. God knows what will happen between now and then. But it sure was good making the plan. That in and of itself is a big step. Just committing to an actual day and time (which we didn't actually do).

But living breathing life forms on planet earth must inevitably adapt and evolve in order to survive. And this is where Plan B comes into play. It is an evolvement in order to do nothing less than secure our very survival. Remember the old adage yours truly once one-offed in a loud, noisy, crowded bar to an uproarious response of high fives and laughter from his friends and lovers: "Your net-worth is equal to your network." Meaning, the more people you regularly communicate with the more successful and wealthy you will be. It is a simple matter of mathematics and one of the foundational principles of networking and success. Plan B is a desperately needed emergency strategy to guarantee not only our continued wealth, happiness, and success, but also our very survival. Without friendship, love, the care of others, and real sincere human contact, we have nothing.

Simply put Plan B states this: Life is too short not to spend time and regularly communicate with the people in our lives that we love. But as we have already covered we are all just too busy and deathly afraid that if we take the time to reach out that it will require too much time that we feel we don't have in any one moment to "catch up." So we subconsciously avoid reaching out or even answering the phone and worse yet we are now reaching a stage where even email has become too burdensome and time-consuming. So it is time to implement Plan B. If you think of someone, call them, or at the very least text them. Don't put it off. It doesn't have to be a long conversation. Let go of the need to feel that we need to "catch up." Catching up is yesterday's fashion. Give it away to Goodwill. Those of us who are living life to its fullest just don't live in a world where we have time to "catch up" anymore. Just pick up that phone and say "hello, I was just thinking about you. Listen, I don't have a lot of time. But how are you? I miss you."

And the same goes for when that phone rings. If you don't recognize the number, let it go to voicemail. There is no harm in that. But if you look down and it's someone that you know and love, or someone that you work with, or someone who would be good for your career, take the call. Let them know you're busy as all hell but you love them and miss them, or that their call is important to you, and you just didn't want them going to voicemail. Spend a minute or two touching base and let that be that. No need to harbor the illusory belief that you two need to spend an hour on the phone. Just chat for a minute or two, support each other, positive talk each other, sincerely communicate together, and let it be. When Tuesday and I were hammering out this plan we both wholeheartedly agreed that we would rather talk three times a week for five minutes each than once a month for an hour. And I feel that way about so many people. We both agreed that email just doesn't cut it. Email has now been relegated to where letter writing and receiving used to be. It's a necessary evil. Not a place where our friends belong. Nope. The sweet voice heart and soul of our friends belong in our ear, if not in front of us face to face. Or at least in a text message at the least.

So far it has worked like a charm. Since implementing Plan B in my life over the last two to three weeks I have noticed my "missed call" log reduce by hundreds of calls. I just simply pick up the damn phone. Today I spoke with Weather Girl for all of three minutes. But that was fine. We talked. She got the message that I was busy, but she also got the message that I cared about her. That her calling was important to me. Today I sent a two-line email to a dear elderly woman who has acted as a mentor and godmother to me for decades now. Didn't have a lot of time but I made the time to just write "Hi there, I've been thinking a lot about you lately. How are you? I hope well. Please always feel free to call me if you ever want to talk or if you need anything. Ok. I love you." And that was that. That's Plan B in a nutshell.

You know I bet after some time that many people will come up with more ideas to add to this new method for staying connected to our friends and loved ones 21st century style. If you are one of those people, please feel free to post a comment with your idea(s). Don't expect me to comment back of course. LOL! But please know that at some point I actually do read all comments. It just might take me a few years. But let's all make this a new habit. A New Years resolution right smack dab in the middle of the year. Then again, knowing how busy YOU are, you might not actually be reading this till New Years anyway. Well regardless, let's do it. We owe it to ourselves. Life is good. It's a blessing and then some if there ever was such a thing. But life is even better when it's filled with friends and family and lovers and real honest to god sincere and authentic communication with the people we love.

Here's to Plan B. Let's do it.

Why we write

One of the shittiest days in recent memory to be sure. The Diaries are already causing a riot since I started posting them again and its been less than two weeks. Perhaps was not such a good idea. Problem with that conclusion is that they are already getting so popular again... the momentum building. The emails, the comments, the dialogues forming...

The YouTube experiment is now over and I believe I gathered a lot from it. A downright fascinating and engaging and educational and definitely a fun experiment. In one year I filmed roughly 350 movies, managed to edit and post about 90 of them, and just let them take off... I am now in the process of creating a summary report about what I learned from it. And everyday they still continue to teach me plenty, because they are still up and active and being actively viewed, rated, and commented on. So it IS a fascinating cultural experiment. The greatest joy – the secret giggle – coming from the fact that not only did I become almost instantly addicted to the process itself... which in itself says a lot about us as a society, but also in the irony in that they were ultimately a covert mass-cultural experiment. To see what was hot, what was not hot. What would take off, what would not take off. What people like, what they don't like. What they comment on, what they don't comment on. What gets viewed a lot, and what never gets viewed... all categorized and sorted based on keyword searches, comments, ratings, etc... again, fascinating.

But there was something about the art of WRITING – especially just blogging -- that I really missed. Especially since the writing that I am doing in the Transcendence Diaries is really just a massive book writing experiment in real time online for all the world to witness as it is being written... so one cannot really call it a “blog” – especially since we started posting them long before the word “blog” even existed and long before the first “blogging” website ever appeared... we had to create our own website and system for it... this was back in the year 2000.

“G2? I love your idea...
“Which one dog? I have so many,” he comments with this smirk on his face...
“The one about me posting my diaries online for fans, as I write my book in real time... it’s fucking brilliant... but how do we post all that? I mean what system are we going to use for this?”
“Good question my man. It is simple. You write them at night. Then email them to me before you go to bed. I then post them to this page I've created every morning. You see? It’s all in frames... It’s that easy. People log on to that page from a link on your band’s homepage.”
Just one twenty-mile long ass HTML page is how they started... day after day, month after month, and eventually year after year... what a long strange trip its been...

But now after a year and a half off from “posting” (I have still been writing – 250 pages written but not posted in the last year alone) we’re back and it feels great. Based on the immediate positive response I received when I started to post again I was excited by the new potential of it. that was until today...

What we WILL do is PUBLISH them as a book instead. Bunny is already grabbing large chunks of them in her off hours – what she calls “the nuggets” out of them – for certainly 2000 pages is just too much for a book... at least according to her. And what she plans on doing is just putting together one really exciting solid book with one or two main plots and themes and just focusing in on the major characters... And the irony is that this will end up being WORSE for those who are adamantly against them.... but at least create a small fortune for us all. So maybe all the fuss is for naught. Because I think in the end, people are willing to put up with some privacy exposed if they're profiting from it... who knows. Again, as with many things that I do, its an experiment. We will just have to wait and see...

We know this much though. Fishy does disappear suddenly. Whether he dies or not or how he dies or when he dies we may never know. Perhaps it is these very Diaries that kill him. Who knows...

So yes, the good old Transcendence Diaries are back... a source of never ending confusion, angst, and passionate arguments and heated debates since we started with the experiment way back in 2000 with the very first post. I don't know what's worse really... the Transcendence Diaries or the YouTube videos with me half clothed rambling incoherently for ten minutes about the most ridiculously controversial and irrelevant subjects. Both seem to cause problems...

So where to begin... after church today I was to have a strategy meeting with Catherine Darlington, mentor, advisor, patron of the arts, caretaker, dream creator, extremely disciplined and calculating business mind. One that Fishy needs desperately. I was to meet her exactly one block north of our church so no one would see me get in the car. Ever the prim, proper, elegant, well spoken, calm, demure, but demanding as all hell hostess, she lets me into the back of the limo as is her usual ride on our way to brunch to hammer a few things out and review my week’s activities and I casually mention to her that I have started posting to the Transcendence Diaries again and how I excited I was by the fact that we have hired illustrators to start illustrating all 179 characters and how amazingly cool that would be when it is all finished and up on the new site that Bloopy had created. A totally dynamic web2.0 near-graphic novel experience for the user. Fresh. Hot. New. Cool. Cutting edge.

Only she didn't think so at all. “What may I ask does this have to do with ANY of the other projects that you are dong right now darling?”
“Well it doesn’t exactly...”
“I didn't think so. So WHY are you doing it? Haven't you learned anything? How many times do I have to repeat the same things to you Fishy?! NO MORE NEW PROJECTS!”
“Well this isn't exactly a NEW project.... I mean, I've been doing it for a while now to be technically factual about it.... eight years to be precise.”
“You know EXACTLY what I mean Fishy. What does this have to do with your BOOK? What does this have to with your continuing Iran media campaign? What does it have to do with your consulting company or your band’s new albums coming out? What does it have to do with MAKING MONEY?! What is WRONG with you?”

I sat up in my seat and faced her. “Well Catherine, its just that this could be really big... you see.. not only are people really excited by the fact that I started posting to the Diaries again, but once we add the illustrations then we’re going to have this totally new thing happening that no one’s ever done before and....”

“We’ve been having this same conversation for a year and a half Fishy. I heard this same thing about the ebook. And about the barter company. And about the consulting company. And then about the pop-culture book and have you finished either of those projects? And then you're off to Iran! Out of the blue, you're off to IRAN! And then because of that trip you have to start two non-profit websites??!! And let’s not forget about the THREE albums that you have recorded and have still NOT released. And you're going to record another album with a fourteen year old kid now?

“Well actually he's fifteen... I mean, to be accurate...”
She turned to face me with one of the most stern looks I had ever seen coming my way before. “Fishy. I don't care how old he is. Don't be a smartass. The point is that you going off to record another album doesn’t make any logical sense when you have three already recorded and not on the market yet making you MONEY!
“Yeah that money thing is always a problem...” I mumbled.
“For whom? Perhaps that's the question we should be asking? And now you're back on this other book? Still haven't turned in the first chapter to your new book to the agent yet, no word on what’s happening with the Sundance Film Channel or Elle Magazine yet and I asked you that three times now, and you're spending how MUCH time BLOGGING???!!! Fishy you have to grow up and get it together or you're going to be living in the park.” She pointed out the window to Central park that was to our right as we were driving.

Catherine was right... again. I slumped in my plush leather seat and stared out the tinted window to my right... as usual... what was I going to say? On the one hand she was right. why WAS I starting a new project? Even though it is an old project? But still... why? Why NOW when I am right in the middle of another project that is worth so much more money? I mean, could it be true? Am I really retarded as Bunny and a few others tell me? Am I that dense and I just don't see it? I didn't know... all I knew was that I was really loving this whole new idea of the resuscitated Diaries and my whole life I always just followed whatever I was into in the moment based on whatever inspired me - knowing that I would always be successful with whatever I did... and my whole life smart and organized girls had always organized my life and my ideas in ways that always kept me safe and out of the streets and wealthy most of the time...

I looked over at Catherine. She was perfect. Totally out of my league. Her shoulders back, chest out, head up, nose in the air. My mind began to wander... I started imagining this commercial... the one we would use to advertise the third or fourth installment of my life-story... wherever we are now in this mammoth work, I'm not even sure... So I started commentating it out loud there in the back of the limo.... “Obligatory French-imported-chic-gay-guy stylist in New York City style haircut? Three-hundred and fifty dollars.” I looked down at her shoes... “Fifth Avenue Prada designed white snakeskin and bamboo mid heel platform slides? Six-hundred and ninety-five dollars. Imported Italian leather and gold Gucci handbag? One-thousand two-hundred and ninety-five dollars. Yelling at Fishy because you are a patron of the arts? Priceless.” I let out a big belly laugh. “Goddamn I'm funny.”

“Get out,” Catherine said quietly to me. “If you aren't going to take this seriously then get out.”

So I did what any normal sane thinking person does in a situation like that. I opened the car door at the next slow-down, jumped out of the car, lost my balance, fell down to the ground into a triple roll -- barreling down Fifth Avenue and 60th street and almost killed myself landing flat on my back in the middle of the street. “Well that was really smart,” I thought. “Way to go there pal.” I was lying flat out near the curb of Fifth Avenue out in the open for everyone in New York city to see. And just then my cell phone rang. People were staring at me from all four corners... probably wondering if I was alive or dead. I reached into my pocket and answered my phone. “Hello?”

“Fishy, its Sabine. How are you?”
“Oh hi Sabine. I'm fine. I'm good. how are you?”
“I'm o.k. I just got back. Where are you now? What are you doing?”
“Um well... not much really... I'm just sitting here... you know... working...”
“Fishy it sounds like you are outside... where are you?
“Uh yeah well I just stepped out to take a walk actually... I'm on the upper east side...”
“Good. Come over.” And she hung up the phone. That's Sabine in a nutshell.

“o.k. wow so this is going to be one of those days...” I'm thinking to myself. I sat up on the sidewalk so I wouldn’t get run over... And I did end up sitting there for a while contemplating whether or not to go to Sabine’s house or not... She had been on the road for a few days and we had not seen each other in weeks. Maybe months. I finally decided I might as well. I was in her neighborhood. But as soon as I got there I knew something was wrong.

Polite, uneasy hug. Less than a minute of small talk and then “Follow me please,” she motions to me with her finger and turns and starts walking into the office of her apartment and I followed her. She points to her computer screen and what do I see? Seventeen inches of full screen Transcendence Diaries up on her computer.... I swear to God I almost ran out of there... this just wasn't going to be my lucky day.

“Fishy what the FUCK is THIS?!” she screams.
“Holy shit! You're reading my diaries?!!!! You said you would never read my diaries!
“I never said such a thing! And besides I don't WANT to read your diaries!
“So why are you reading them? Woman you make no sense!”
“But everyone else DOES read them. How do you think I FEEL Fishy? With this shit up here?” “Poor Sabine? Poor Sabine?!!!” This is what you're doing with your life? Writing “poor Sabine”? Fuck you Fishy!” I was dumbfounded. I mean, I was really in shock. Felt like I got hit in the stomach by a two by four. Two in one day. Just too much. And all because of the Diaries and they'd been back up for what? A week? I mean, this was just too much...

“Sabine I don't know what to say. I'm back in the flow now... I'm writing again...
“I thought you had a book deal for some non-fiction book?
“Yeah that too... its coming along... but the Diaries are my life. You know that...”
“And evidently my life too! Bastard! How could you?!”
“Look Sabine! Just stop! I'm sorry. I cannot sit here and argue with you about every detail in my fucking book!
“It’s not a book! It’s a blog! And it’s online and everyone can read it! I don't want people reading about my personal life Fishy!
“Hold on... are you saying that if this WERE a book that you would feel differently?
“Well it would just be different...
“How?! How would that be different?
“Well for one thing you would be making more money from it... and...
“And what?
“And maybe then people wouldn’t log online to read it!”

“You don't think a book is gong to be read by people or be just as personal? It’s the same thing. Sabine! This IS a book. But you know me... I'm just coming at it from a different angle... from an unconventional angle... I'm writing a REAL BOOK but in real time online.... fifteen-hundred-fucking pages... gosh, now more like two thousand pages really...

“yes I know, you and your fifteen hundred fucking pages!” by now she was
crying... not crying as much as tearing... and that's the worst thing for me. Like, I would pretty much do anything to get a girl to stop crying. Especially a girl I love. And the thing about me is that I love every girl I've ever been with. You know, its some sort of glitch in my system... I never stop loving them.
“Sabine you know that Bunny has already started to grab chunks of the Diaries and she is now in the process of turning it INTO a book! O.k.? I already told you that a few weeks ago on the phone when you were in Omaha or whatever.
“It was Idaho you bastard!”
“O.k. Idaho. Whatever. You know what I mean though? I mean how are you going to deal with that? You KNEW this when we met! You knew all about the Diaries!”
“And I told you that I WOULD NOT BE in your BOOK! Or in your Diaries! Remember that? Remember that? I told you that. Period. Sabine not in the Diaries!”
“And I kept my freaking promise to you didn't I?! I haven't blogged in almost two years! I have left almost two freaking years out of Fishy’s life now in the Diaries, and why?! Because of YOU. Because you asked me not to write publicly about you. But YOU were in my life during those two years and YOU were all I wrote about mostly so it put me in a position where i couldn't post ANYTHING that i was writing! Take a look at those years... I post a few music videos and that's all... And as a writer I can tell you that it sucks...
"Well as a writer you can write about other things besides Sabine!"
"Sabine, no I can't. You see. That's the thing. I HAVE to write about you. It's already a mess... no one even knows you exist. Now if you do show up in the Diaries out of nowhere everyone is going to be so confused. And people want to read that stuff. They want to know what the hell happened during that time. I can’t just leave out two full years of his life!”
“You can’t blame that on me! That's because you were busy youtubing and filming yourself all the time you egomaniac!”
“O.k. I know.” I sort of laughed here. “ O.k. so that's true. But it was also for YOU. Because I told you that I wouldn’t write about you. And I didn't. Not a freaking word. It was like you never existed!"
“What do you call what I just read Fishy?! What do you call that? That WAS ABOUT ME!”
“Well that's because you told me that you would never read the Diaries! And plus we've been broken up for over a year. Almost two now. So I thought it was o.k. I really didn't think you'd mind.”
“Do you think I want to read about you and your other girlfriends?! How do you think that makes me feel? Huh?!”

“Sabine look around your apartment!!! You're a freaking artist yourself! Look at these books all over your house!!! Half this stuff is REAL!!!! Do you like these books????!!!” I picked up a giant hardcover coffee table book on the life of Picasso... “Do you LIKE Picasso? Because his life was REAL. o.k.? This stuff in this book is REAL. His various wives and mistresses and girlfriends and the phases of his art that were all inspired by these different women in his life... that is all REAL. Just like YOU are real. And you know what? You LOVE reading about the life of Picasso! So what am I supposed to do? Stop living my life?!”
“No! Just stop writing about it so the whole world can read it! Why don't you try that?!”
“But this is my life! Right here. This book! And you, and me, and everyone else, this is it!!! And you're asking me not to do my art and not to do my life. This is freaking crazy! You can’t ask that of me. I already have a year and half missing because of you and I just can’t take it anymore. I have to do it Sabine.”
“You WANT to do it. You don't HAVE to.” She was sniffling. Had stopped crying... “You could easily turn the last year and a half into a book that wasn't so personal and change everything around and not post them online and then I wouldn’t have to be in it.”
“Sabine there are things that I have written about us that I HAVE to post. They are just TOO good. Really good scenes. I've been reading them... really really good scenes...
“Like what? What have you written about?"
“Pretty much everything... I guess,” I confessed.
“And now you're going to post them?! What are you going to post? Our sex life?
“Well yeah, some of it. I mean there's some really good stuff in there from the last two years...”
“You are NOT going to post anything about our sex life Fishy! I forbid you! Like what? What are you thinking? Are you even thinking?! I'm a professional dancer Fishy! I am a public figure in the arts! And so are you! You cannot post shit about me and my sex life in your Diaries!”
“You know, o.k. look, just us, you know... and our dynamic and our attraction to each other and our sexual chemistry – I mean that's all really important stuff. You know... its revolutionary in the life of Fishy. It's big stuff.”
“You WILL NOT post anything about me online in regards to our sex life!” she stood up and lit a cigarette. I hate the smell of cigarettes. Especially in a closed room.
“How the fuck can you smoke and be a dancer?
“Baryshnikov smoked and he is the greatest dancer of all time! I can smoke! Fuck you! And you aren't going to write about our sex life online. Nor in a book. Period.”
“Well maybe just the virgin islands then... I mean that was an amazing moment in time... Do you remember that weekend?" [I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed myself to just look back at that weekend in my memory... it was one of those moments that you never forget... there was the night on the chaise lounge under the stars and moonlight... half awake, half asleep... time stopped.... two as one... how could i NOT write about it? I reopened my eyes and looked back at Sabine who was still sniffling...]
“I remember that we spent the whole weekend drinking and making love. And that it was beautiful. That's what I remember. And I remember that that is PERSONAL AND PRIVATE information. Not something for you to write about!” She sat back down and continued to tear and sniffle and to smoke her cigarette.

In that moment I just looked at her sitting there across the room from me... her tall thin frame twisted into a ball on the chair. So elegant and graceful still even though she was so angry with me. When girls get sad its kind of a turn on. I don't know why. Her olive skin. Her long dark curly hair. Her eyes all wet with tears... On the one hand I still find myself madly in love with her. It takes everything for me not to reach out to her, caress her, hold her, kiss her, and spend all night making love with her... how easy it would be... falling asleep... argument over... But I'm also just looking at her thinking I cannot believe we are having this conversation.

Not more than a month previously she had told me that the biggest money I was going to make was going to be when my memoirs finally came out in book form. That she was reading Eat Pray Love and that it made her think of me and how big my story would be, based on the Diaries... which is one of the reasons why I started in on this project again in the first place. From her advice!!!! From something that she said! It was just too ironic and twisted that we were sitting here arguing over something I wrote a week ago... and I was doing it based on her suggestion. A casual comment she had made. And now she was upset that I had taken her comment seriously and had started writing again.

I felt so exposed... how strange... you can have your diaries online and have that many subscribers and you're fine with it... because you don't know any of them, and if you do, they don't really talk to you about it anyway... they’re strangers...

But then when someone you know is sitting there reading your personal diaries right up there on their computer screen, you feel so exposed. Like it is this major invasion of privacy... It was something that just struck me as extremely odd. And funny. So I just let out this laugh – right in the middle of this very uncomfortable silence in the room...

“Why are you laughing?! Your such an asshole!”
“Sabine, can you please not use language like that? Why do you have to speak that way?”
“Why are you so self righteous that you are allowed to say whatever the hell you want to and I can’t? Why is that Fishy? Why aren't girls allowed to curse in front of you? Why can’t I say asshole? Huh? Asshole!” One has to remember that she still speaks with this Israeli accent so almost everything she says sounds cute and funny... even when she is serious...
“Sabine. Please. I'm serious. It's just gross. Trust me. English is not your native language so to you these are just words. But to me they strike a certain chord within me and it is not pleasing to my ears nor to my heart or stomach... Please. Just stop.”
“God, you're such an asshole Fishy. A dramatic asshole. Everything you do and say is such a contradiction!” I just sat there staring at her yelling at me. Time seemed to stop. The room got silent even though I could still see that she was still yelling at me... But I was reaching my breaking point by this time... I just wanted to leave. I couldn’t take another second of it. My insides felt so sick.

But at the same time I didn't want to abandon her either... I mean, just leave her there alone in her anguish and discomfort... it felt so unfair. So ungentlemanly-like. But the thing is I could never say anything like that to her because she is such a feminist she will think it is a chauvinist thing to say. And then she would just kick me out screaming at me. A strange situation. So I just tried to be with her and keep calming the situation down... what to do...

She was right though. My actions WERE affecting other people. I had never thought about that... well that's not true actually... I had thought about it... back in ’03 when we had to pull the Diaries down entirely for almost a full year. That was back when I was still writing with real names. My real name, Fishy, but also everyone else’s real name... it had turned into a nightmare. I couldn’t go anywhere anymore without people referring to what I was writing in the Diaries... At the time we only had 650 pages online. But we pulled them all down... Because the truth of the matter was they were affecting other people negatively... It was a real invasion of their privacy...

It took me almost a year to figure out what to do... I kept writing privately but not publicly... and for some strange reason it was killing me... I needed a solution... I had to figure out some new plan for them.... after almost a year of contemplating the matter we finally came up with the idea to incorporate the real life Transcendence Diaries into the semi-fictional book The Adventures of Fishy and make them one singular gigantic entity. I will never forget the moment I got the idea... it was dusk. The sun was setting... I was standing out in a parking lot on my phone with Princess Little Tree pacing in the parking lot back and forth trying to come up with some solution to the Transcendence Diaries dilemma... it finally occurred to me right there on the phone with Princess Little Tree...

The plan was that I would sit down for two solid weeks at my parent’s house over the Christmas holidays – I must have smoked 30 cigars out there on their back porch -- and edit all 650 pages - changing everyone’s name and image and face and personality to protect their identity. What a task. But I finished it in less than two weeks and the Diaries were back online.

So yes... I HAD experienced this before. I just forgot... But what Sabine didn't realize and even Catherine didn't understand is that the Diaries are my therapy. Sabine was busy reading each and every entry... analyzing who was who, what was said about who and all that... like she really believes they are real... but by the time I post them I totally forget about what I even wrote. It just flies out of my head. For me its over then. It means nothing. Its like some sort of voodoo therapy for me.... Some true. Some not true. Who knows.... To me it’s just writing... it’s a drug. It just has absolutely nothing to do with anything that you can sit down and analyze from a personal perspective anymore than anything else that happens in life... because in the end it is all just the human condition... the human experience... and we can’t spend our lives analyzing every detail that happens in our lives. We have to move forward. For me, writing the Diaries has been my way of getting beyond the past and constantly stay moving forward.

I could never imagine going back and reading any of it. I already told my agent “Look, I am really psyched that you are so into the Transcendence Diaries and The Adventures of Fishy projects, but you know that project isn't really going to be something I'm gonna be into... I would love if you guys take it and edit it all down and turn it into one big story with a narrative ark and all that... but that's not going to be my thing. Four or five thousand pages of memoir? No way. I'm just not interested. I'll keep writing and you just grab whatever you want and take it and publish what you want out of it and I'll trust you. And hey if we make some money even better. But for me its all about the NOW when I am writing and then baby the thrill is gone.”

And you know, that's the way good therapy should be really. In the end, if you forget what you are writing about, then that means you did your job. You exorcised those demons. They're gone. You never go back and look for demons...

Maybe one day Sabine will realize that. She didn't that night. I left her apartment a heaping mess of tangled flesh and emotion and angst and sadness and self loathing... Her too. But the following day we sort of worked it out... texting each other back and forth what we had learned about ourselves from thinking about it... I learned. She learned. That's life. I mean, why write? That's why we write isn't it?

Making the switch, Finding Character, and Uncaging the tiger

Ashland, So sorry. I couldn’t finish writing to you last night.

Last night Weather Girl spent the night. I know that must sound so loaded to start off an email right? But yes it is true. I was already asleep and she called and asked if she could spend the night (she lives in NJ now so it was too late to go home and she had an appnt in the city this morning). So I made a bed for her on the couch. I was tired and she was tired so I just wrote a bit (hence my late night email last night) and then went to sleep. She woke me up this morning to say good bye and we talked for a few minutes. She is leaving tomorrow for Miami and several other biz trips. I must say, (or else why else would I be emailing you) that it WAS weird.

And YOU are absolutely right. She DOES have other girls she can talk to about that kind of stuff. So why bother talking about it with me? You know? I mean, hey I know I'm supposed to be an enlightened person... but I am also human... and I also know that I am the one who broke up... but again, I am still human... and frankly that IS a weird experience...

But I know how it is when we meet someone that we just totally LIKE or think we do. So they are all we want to talk about. AND honestly I'm glad to see her act this way. Cause I was afraid that maybe she was a robot and didn't possess those feelings. So it’s good to see her crushing like a normal human being in a way... but still...for some reason it does make my chest hurt a little. Which makes no sense cause it’s not like I look at her and think “XYZ.” Wish I did honestly. Cause I'd love for the chase to be over. But I just don't. And I can’t fake it. So why would i be bothered at all by it? Like we discussed, i don't know. Must be something primordial... because it certainly isn't conscious.

You know? So yeah it made me think about what you said. One = the time thing. Needing space away where you can let the thing totally go... meaning your feelings for the person. and 2 = it is important to know that your friends are seeing someone but you don't want to just sit there and talk about it... and she's not even seeing anyone. God, I think about poor Sabine... how she must have felt... what was she doing???? Being friends with ME during that time??? I mean, that must have just been pure pain for her... what a saint.

Honestly Ash, I just think when we like someone, you see, we would rather talk to them or be with them than not. So even if they ARE seeing someone else... we still sit there and listen to them talk about the other person... which is totally masochistic. Really. So yeah that was kind of masochistic for Sabine. What she should have done is just STOP talking to me for a while so she didn't have to be reminded of it...

(but I bet that hurts too... that “wondering what they're doing now” thing” – have you ever been there? I have. that sucks too. It’s a catch 22.)

Well this is good practice for me. Weather Girl says to me “Fishy, I'm really glad you took the time to work on your whole Cary Grant thing...” (an inside joke...) Meaning that she was glad that I was such a gentleman when we first dated... (I wait like six to eight weeks before I even kiss a girl. Crazy right? I know. But I can’t help it. That's just how I was raised.) And then now. How I just act like her friend/brother and don't say any negative stuff and I try to be a good guy and sit and listen to her talk about how she likes this guy X... Which I might add = thank God – because I would always rather have it that way rather than the opposite way, where the girl is just going nuts for you but you don't like her, because that sucks. You know?

Hey welcome to the Transcendence Diaries btw! If I've written this much to you via email that means that chances are this will end up somewhere shoved in between some pages... or else I wouldn’t be writing this much to you cause I'm too FREAKING BUSY right now with other books!

Point is that when she left I thought to myself, “good job old boy. You're a good kid. You did well. You're a good friend. And you handled yourself alright too.” and I even checked with myself and I felt fine.

Ashland, so then I got up and was walking around. Waiting for coffee to arrive actually... Bunny is bringing me some. And I thought about you. I wonder if perhaps because you come off so much older than your age if that's it... you know? I mean, you must have had tons of guys going nuts over you in school. One would assume. (these are all questions I wondered while knowing you the last few years.) But you have this air of properness that is so off-putting to most guys that I bet they were just always too scared to make a move on you.... and I bet your standards are really high.

(well don't we all have high standards? But some of us more than others.) You see, what you DON'T yet know is that I was raised the same way YOU were... but I was the rebel of the bunch and took off to live the wild bohemian life and did my best to attempt to strip all that off of me throughout my wild college years and twenties... So I give off this air of being this crazy wild guy but I have these really high standards and only go out with girls from “the best” families etc... a very off-putting contradiction to most girls. Trust me. And frankly it CAN foul things up because I've been with some of the finest girls there are in the world, but I have this ridiculous yardstick I measure them with... and often times have to let them go simply because I am waiting for Mrs. Right. And she has to be absolutely perfect...

One of the most beautiful girls I ever dated is known as the Italian Stallion. Now remember we are in the Diaries already here. But she is “forget about it gorgeous.” And she was cool. But she said a bad word and I broke up with her. And she couldn’t believe that I was breaking up with her for that... she still doesn’t actually. But I just had to... I mean, I could never bring a potty mouth home to mom if you know what I mean... it just made my stomach church... too bad. But because of the way I was raised I have these crazy high standards....

You see, that may answer a question as to why out of all the girls, I ended up with Weather Girl for a brief spell there... I know people were like “what the hell? He’s going out with WHO??!!!” But truth is, those are the kind of girls I go out with. I just feel more comfortable with them...

But I learned a lot from that experience. A LOT. I learned that I have to ease up on that whole prim and proper thing and let the right girl come in regardless of how she was raised... hence my slight and short lived attraction to Red if you remember that one... you see normally I would never go out with a girl like that. Simply because she doesn’t come from the same side of the tracks. Regardless of how snobby that sounds. It was actually a real stage of growth for me as a person. I realized that you can’t just date a girl cause she DOES come from the right side - like Weather Girl, and then not have much in common and make all these compromises in your head and heart... So I got that. And hence decided that I would open my mind to other girls... and instead of looking for the right side of the tracks I would look for the right heart...

And then I just realized that I am really just waiting for REAL LOVE to strike... like everyone else. Regardless of who the girl is.... the kind that we see in the movies... and well, some people tell you that you’re a dreamer and that's just the movies... but I for one actually believe otherwise... perhaps there is that ONE person for each of us, and I just haven't met her yet. Or else I'd be married already.

Perhaps the same thing with you. You just haven't found Mr. Right. Assuming there is such a thing...

But I'll give you some thoughts for you. From the objective sidelines as a guy. You ready for this?
Say yes. Or stop reading now. Your choice. Red pill or blue pill. It’s your choice Neo.

For one thing, because you do act in “that certain way.” (I recognize it because I grew up in Palm Beach and Naples so all the girls act that way from those upper-class waspy American towns) So for most guys it’s a little off putting because they didn't grow up that way and don't know how to act around girls like that. it’s intimidating if you don't really have something BIG to fall back on and give you major confidence. I mean, hell, if you didn't meet the guy HERE in NYC where there is 14 million people.... but then again I don't know you so I don't know what was really going on... or what you were looking for... But the point is, you have to actually be open enough to give that guy room to make his move in... or else he's going to be too intimidated to do so...

But I will tell you this, once a guy gets to know you, he realizes that you are actually a COOL CHICK. But you would never know it at first because you come off so straight edge at first. Got it? So then a guy’s like what? You're eating at McDonalds? How cool! (not if its everyday. But if it’s once in a while, that is totally COOL.) And other things too. So Ashland Meadows turns out to be a cool girl after all. But she just doesn’t come across that way at first because she is still living through that filter of “the way I was raised...” (wow is that o.k. to even say that to a person? well if Fishy cannot say it then who can, right?)

But you know, a guy does want a cool girl. Someone he can actually talk to and hang with and be loose with and get deep with...

Yeah. Well for what's its worth, that's my two cents. I didn't get to know Ashland Meadows too well. Only a little. And it was really only towards the end that I got to spend enough quality time with her that she opened up – her actual person and soul opened enough and I saw through all the etiquette and protocol -- and saw this super cool fun deep chick underneath that was there all the time. It was actually on the plane in Tangier that I really got to see it. She opened up a few times and I was very surprised. I was like “wooo. Alright. Not only is she cool and fun, but she actually does have these thoughts... I mean, like, real thoughts. It’s not just about tea and cake. Good for her.”

Does that help? well probably not. you didn't ask for help. But still. I think the world of you. I've often spent time in prayer for you. And I've often spent time contemplating just who might be the best guy for you and frankly I think there are THOUSANDS of them out there. But you just have to open up and let them know its o.k. for them to make a move. Show them that you aren't “off limits” so to speak.


So where does that leave us? Well, that was certainly a strange experience. Having Weather Girl wake me up in the middle of the night to crash for the night and then wake me up in the morning to talk about how she should handle this thing with this guy. But it actually just made me feel stronger. More mature. Like, o.k. old boy you really want to grow up and walk your talk? Here's a great one for you. Watch this: BAM!

Can you keep your cool? Can you remain selfless? Can you let go of your “guyness” – that wildcat who just lives for the moment? AND your ego? And can you really be the gentlemen that you were not only raised to be but that your friends, especially your girlfriends, want and expect you to be? And just be there for another person AND act on your true feelings rather than act on some imaginary evolutionary feelings that crop up here and there non-deliberately?

Well it turns out that I can. And I did.


That would have actually been a great ending to a chapter. But just allow me this as a prologue. Here's the thing that I realized from it. We’re there on the bed. She's talking. And I'm still lying there half asleep. I'm not even bothering to open my eyes. And I realized that somewhere there is a switch that takes place. Where we switch from still having feelings for someone to not having those feelings anymore. And even though we might reach that place called “I already know I don't want to be with this person in the long run anymore,” we can still have FEELINGS for them... that attraction is still there. Those underlying curious feelings of “what ifs?”

So we have to allow ourselves time to make that total switch. Or else, as you said, it WILL drag on, even though in the bigger picture we don't want it to... So moments like this morning are sort of dangerous... because if that switch is not totally made yet, then we are still taking the risk of everyone getting hurt or being confused. But if you are strong enough to stay true to how you really feel and what you really believe is best for both of you, then regardless of what might be happening, then you CAN remain TRUE and FAITHFUL to your highest goals for that situation. It just takes strength of character. Yeah. Something like that.


The final chapter – That moment of epiphany strikes:

I just got this major hit! Wow. I was in the kitchen adding protein powder to my coffee. (you didn't know this but alas it is true) I know. It sounds gross. It’s actually a great way to save two birds with one net. And doesn’t taste half bad either. Bachelors without a full-time housekeeper and cook are a dangerous thing. I know this fact intimately. We fall victim to the most dreadful solutions when confronted with such a fate, however temporary.

So -- not to jump back and forth but hey what fun is there in being the composer of a giant five thousand plus page magnum opus such as this one if you can’t just do whatever the hell you want to?

So yes I was stirring this powder into the coffee and I was thinking to myself, "just what the hell am I even doing writing to Ashland Meadows in the first place." And then deeper, “what is it? What IS the message you have for her?” And then it came to me....

Ashland Meadows my suggestion to you is to open up more. Let guys know that you actually are fun and cool and free and actually a bit wild underneath all that. Cause here's my guess about you. (And since I am after all creating you in the first place, sort of, I should know.) But here it is: YOU really want to go off more. Like you sort of are longing to go off the beaten path a bit more.

But the guys that are attracted to you or who feel comfortable enough to ask you out are all super straight edge. But you have this wild side that is longing for something wilder, some real action. Some adventure. Or else let’s face it, as most girls from your group, you would have already settled into something. But you haven't. And why? Because while yes there is this whole “Stepford Wife/Brie from Desperate Housewives” thing going... underneath that is this wild girl who wants to jump into a convertible and drive a hundred and fifty miles an hour down some wide causeway on a small island with water on both sides screaming and singing out loud at the top of your lungs to the music playing. And that's just the start of it.

I mean, my true guess would be that you just haven't met any guys who are totally insane enough to totally capture that wild side of you. Even though you have probably met plenty of guys who fit in other ways. But especially if they always let you call all the shots. Then yeah you're fine in the moment but you aren't being swept off your feet. You need someone like Richard Branson. Someone who is really going to take you on a ride. And I'm not just talking physically. Like “where are we going?” “I have no idea, but lets go!” That kind of stuff, sure. But also someone who is going to take you on a ride mentally and emotionally too. Someone who is really going to be a trip for you and intoxicate your mind and your heart and your soul in a way that is totally unconventional. Because underneath all that fine china is this tiger who is waiting to be tamed. But you can’t tame a tiger if the tiger never even comes out from its cage. So yes, Ashland Meadows is in fact a tiger waiting to be loosed from her cage. But she needs to meet a man who is going to bring that out in her.

More but my fingers are tired.

Find that tiger within Ashland. And let guys know its there. Let out a few growls now and then. Ha! Why wait forever? Half the reason why you are so afraid of settling down is because you are afraid of trapping the tiger within. The tiger doesn’t want to be caged. So marriage scares the hell out of you. (yeah I know) And why wouldn’t it? Because if you really are a tiger then no you aren't going to want to be tied down “forever” to anyone or anything or anywhere. But you have to let that tiger out NOW. Now that I am thinking about it... my intuition tells me that you are fighting inside against this mild but still totally crazy tiger wild woman who isn't going to let you tie yourself down... but at the same time you haven't met anyone who has brought out that wild woman in the first place... So it sort of sits dormant. Waiting. But at the same time it also doesn’t let you settle down either. So you're always on the move.

But the sort of sad truth is that a woman as amazing as you, and I am creating Ashland Meadows to be one of the most dazzling heroines of this entire series, - in fact you have no idea of her fate as I do... - should not be waiting, nor should she be always on the move either... she needs to be RAGING. She needs to be totally living life to its absolute fullest! She needs to be uncaged and let loose on the world.

I will await to hear the news from the frontlines. Good luck.

And hey, welcome to the Diaries.

Lord Increase My Faith

Well I think its good sometimes to be kept up to date and notified now and then how those little actions we take effect those around us... to lift a thought from one of your long but not lost past sermons... made all the more ironic (or more coincidental) since this particular update is to you and about you and for you.

“My aren't we being evasive Fishy...” he comments and smiles that smile that so many have come to love. “Is there a point might I ask?”

“Yes there is. And no, no sir not at all. I'm sorry. It’s just because I'm knee deep in this ‘book writing mode’ as you know... so even my day to day conversation has turned into this weird sort of... well, book writing style, a novelistic approach... right down to my daily speech and even in my emails! It’s crazy I know. So let me get to the point. Because I do think it is important and actually interesting. At least to some it might be,” I answer. “And it might actually be helpful and inspiring to some.... Or so I thought as I was walking home this afternoon and reminded myself to email you about it.”

“O.k. I'm game. Fire away,” he replies. And I do.

O.k. so to get to the point, what I decided to do after that one sermon where you encouraged everyone to pray to ask God “lord increase my faith” I decided to add it to my own personal morning “recurring alarm” in my pda – you know, the one that wakes me up each day. Now of course I can add to it or take things away from it whenever I please but every morning these are the first words I see... so I fill this particular recurring alarm with very powerful words and images of faith or inspiration usually.

At one point in the last six months I added to the very top of this particular alarm in all caps “LORD INCREASE MY FAITH.” based on this sermon.

And then what I decided to do was start my day like that, immediately go into prayer – that prayer. And then jump up. Within a very short time I decided to start snoozing it for exactly two hours. and each time it went off, no matter where I was or what I was doing I go right back into that prayer. No matter what or where. Important. and then I snooze it again for another two hours. and I continue to do that all day long till I go to sleep. The last one might go off at 5am depending on how late I stay up or what I time I finally hit that bed. So in your average day I have prayed that prayer anywhere from 8 to 12 times.

So this began a few months ago... sometimes I might be on the phone when it goes off. In fact, oftentimes I am on the phone when it goes off, or in a meeting, so I have no more time in that moment than a few seconds to close my eyes and feel the Divine within me and around me and whisper “Lord increase my faith. Lord help me to increase my faith. Thank you, thank you. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

What is interesting is that the more you do it the easier it becomes and the more you look forward to it and of course the closer you feel to God/the Divine. After some time of it you might start to find that you are really feeling God or “God’s presence” in your life all the time... as if you are living in It, as if you and he/she/it are connected... as if you have this special bond... as if he/she/it is looking forward to it as much as you are... as if he/she/it is right there in you and all around you/us all the time anyway and thus all you are doing is reminding yourself to open up to that and become aware of it once again in each new moment...

Another thing you might notice is that as you pray this same prayer repeatedly like this – essentially turning it into a mantra – something that not only becomes part of you, but actually has a tangible and palpable effect on you mentally and physically – as mantras often do, and should – that the words, the ideas behind the words begin to bring questions up... questions such as “what am I praying for exactly? Am I asking this “God idea” to increase my faith for me? Or am I simply asking he/she/it to ‘help me’ increase my faith? And more, “increase my faith in what? What am I really asking for? Increase my faith in what? In God? In myself? In “faith” itself?” And on and on it goes... eventually you begin to realize that those four words pack a pretty powerful punch because they can take you on quite a ride if you let them. If you just flow with that mantra and allow whatever words to flow out of your mouth that happen to want to come out, you really can get carried away. It can if you let it become an easy path to an enlightened state.

Because I am now doing this 8 to 10 times a day, there are some times luckily where I might be free in that moment so I will stand up and raise my arms and hands up into the air and give it some time and really pray it “Lord increase my faith. Lord increase my faith. Increase my faith in you. Increase my faith in general. Increase my faith in myself. Help me to increase my faith in the path that I am on. Lord help me to increase my faith in magic. In everything that we read about and are led to believe. Lord take me beyond believing and into pure knowing. Increase my faith that you are here, right here, all around us, inside of us...”

And on and on it goes. Truly no end to it. A few minutes with each session is enough to get you reconnected, put a smile on your face, and a sense of calm and power, certainty and centeredness in your heart. Snooze it for another two hours. And off I go with my day.

Just thought I would share. I have no idea if that particular sermon holds or held any significance to you. Nor where it came from or where it is leading you or others. But this is where it has led me over the course of the last six months. I have had a lot of fun with it. And by God it just may be working.

As always thank you for what you do.

See you soon,
Fishy