Emailed Juliet this morning that if she were not ultimately my wife that she would certainly be the closest second. That it is an honor to be getting to know her as a good solid lifelong friend, again—--[feels like that kind of friendship—something that has continued throughout many lifetimes.] at brunch this morning, felt a good sense of relief from jotting those words down to her. Kind of like sending a message in a bottle out to sea, or ripping up a love letter into a million little pieces and throwing it up into the wind and letting them fly away. it took the pressure off of my mind concerning what could be called the ‘Juliet factor.’ So now no matter what happens, whether it is she, or as I suspect, a passing fancy on the way to the altar with my true love, its all good. my feeling now is that Juliet being the closest thing I have met to someone I would like to spend lots of time with in the last few years has just captured a certain something in my mind. My mind is at ease though now.
Something very addictive about Miami to me still, the beautiful weather and the breathtaking skylines overlooking the water. lots of things still to complete with my boys, but I would be much happier up in nyc. Something dreadful here as well, a deadness in the air, a nothingness that although every now and then it appears like something, is truly nothing; you can actually feel it. Rockaway says to me about hanging out in Miami, “I wish I could be hanging out with people I actually like rather than just tolerate. I've never seen a place where you get introduced to someone five times and they still don't know who you are the next time you meet them.” It’s uncanny. Juliet mentioned that as we are about to leave places that have a lot of karma for us, it all comes crashing in, almost as a way to keep us there for some weird reason. I continue to tell myself that there is nothing left for me here, and that would be true if it were not for my boys.
I have found it hard now that I am right at the edge to take the final step. But luckily we ended up by pure accident, perhaps more ignorance, in a very slummy and tiny apartment in the ghetto essentially. As I type the toilet is leaking buckets of water onto the floor of the tiny bathroom. Towels are soaked all over the place. and they have the water pipe blocked so you can’t stop it without some special wrench. Ah, the benefits of renting. So it certainly makes it easier to leave here. and also we are on South beach, versus the mainland; and South beach is not as nice or appealing or cozy as the mainland is. the mainland of Miami still holds a lot of charm for me. South beach not much at all. I've observed also that Bas has mysteriously, miraculously, serendipitously begun a very deep and passionate new relationship with a really nice girl. She could be the one. so that's a good thing too. because he's going to be pretty busy with her for the next six months or so. You know how that goes. Next week I will go look at more apts in New York.
Current Spin: North by Elvis Costello. Perhaps his best album ever? Really good. Terry Reilly in C. Interesting avant garde minimalism from the late sixties. Don't like it as much as Philip glass or Steve reiche. Predictable. Exists only because it had to. something needed to.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Saturday, July 03, 2004
I was studying the history of Morocco this morning, and I foresaw this quest to learn about and discover every facet of the planet nearing completion one day soon. and then what? I got kind of scared for a minute. A panic set in for a minute. I thought to myself, ‘once I'm done learning about everything there is, then what? Do I just go sit in a cave somewhere and wait to die?’ It reminded me of when we were younger and we first discovered the great writers and poets and philosophers. You know, the ‘great thinkers’ phase. The college years. A few years spent ravagely studying them all, soaking it in, looking for clues... and then one day the novelty of it, the newness, the mystery of it, wears off. You start focusing more on real world stuff and less on the cerebral. You realize that you could go on like that forever and still never read them all. But that you don't really need to read them all. You get the basic ‘best one thousand books ever written’ down and then, for me at least, you just kind of lose interest and move on. it was great fun but now its done, to turn a phrase. Anyway, I noticed the same thing with music too. you know when you first discover a new style of music, like classical, or Brasilian pop, or drum and bass, and you ravage it for a while, learn everything there is to learn about it, collect them all, and then one day you reach this endpoint so to speak. Its not necessarily burnout as much as been there done that. its not as if you don't enjoy it anymore, because you do. I mean, I do. but it just isn't new anymore. It doesn’t have the same ability to mysteriously transfix our attention as it once did. I notice this with everything. I get kind of super absorbed in things that are new and then once I get through them, to the other side, then I move on to something else to discover or explore. [remember that football phase? For years I never even knew football existed, and then for a year straight I must have watched over a hundred DVDs about football. I could name every NFL player in the hall of fame in order. Crazy. but then one day I noticed the obsession wearing thin.]
[in a moment’s thought so many other things tie together from this dialogue... I had been thinking about how when people that you know ask you ‘what are you doing tonight?’ and you know they may be going to a movie, or going to dinner, or going to a bar with friends, or going to a club to pick up girls, or to a party or whatever... and since I was very young I have always been kind of isolated from a lot of that, not as much as some mad scientists types we hear of, but probably pretty damn close to that. an extremely social anti-social kind of person I think is a good way to describe it. I have always had a real hard time with things like that, because I get really nervous and anxious at social things because I am always thinking about all the work I could be doing. I have always found more pleasure in “working,” and a lot of times working is just creating or reading or studying something. Even though my heart always longs for close solid friendships as well. you know, you don't lose that. its not as if you don't have that. because you do. you still want to have the security and warm fuzzy feeling of having good friends and family around you. but rather than spend any time going to hang out, I've always found it more rewarding to just keep on working all the time. what I really like is when I can just have friends hanging around while I work. That's cool. like they can be in another room watching a movie or drinking and talking and I can kind of still be there, but I can be writing or songwriting or studying or whatever. look and make the occasional comment. Best of both worlds...
still, you don't often get that. most of the time your friends want to go out and do stuff. Like say Friday night hits and all your friends go to a party, but I want to stay home in order to watch three or four classic French films, because at the time I am ‘researching classic French film.’ “Of course you are,” as the Poet would joke. and that's what I'm saying, back to the original point. I'm not sure what it is. its this never-ending hunger to know everything. so its like one day you realize you’ve seen every classic or ‘considered great’ American movie ever made. I mean, you just wake up one day and you are at the end of the road with it. its sad in a way. Because that's over for you now. you're done with it. so the only thing you can do is move on to all the great Italian directors, then the French, or the Iranian, or Russian, or Japanese, etc, and after a few years, you realize that you and film have finished courting. Your relationship is over. You can watch movies over and over again, but for the most part you are done with that. you’ve reached the wall.
Now I’ve noticed that in my brief time here I have done that with so many things already; literature and poetry, theology and religion and philosophy of course. The sciences are always good to go back to you, dig deeper. But you know, how do you get beyond expert at something? I guess that from there you can start looking for the undiscovered...
[I take that back. experts are different. They keep on studying something beyond the endpoint. They get to the end and they decide to turn back and look around more. they get involved in actually memorizing aspects of a certain subject or field. That's never been my thing. I've noticed that I m more interested in just researching to the endpoint. Getting through it, to that deepest most basic understanding of it, so you see the ‘who what why how when and where’ of something and that's enough. There are always going to be people who are more interested in studying every minute detail of something and just spending their whole life in that, and we should leave that to them. Those are the experts.]
Music of course. I don't think there’s an artist or album that has ever existed or been made that I don't have in my collection. And I don't mean that from a layperson’s point of view, like when your best friend Johnny says that between bites of his cheeseburger, where they may have a few thousand cds in their collection that they're real proud of. But I'm talking about more from a scholar’s or researcher’s viewpoint: ‘have you ever heard this 1933 recording of pygmy mouth harp music from central Africa?’ [there are no pygmies in central Africa of course.] along with all the usual stuff that we all know about. I'll go to a store in a new country and say to a few of the clerks (because its impossible for us as non-natives to know all the good stuff except the really popular stuff) ‘Look, pick out every single classic or cool or cult album ever made in this country and start putting them on the counter. Would you do that for me?’ and of course for them it’s a ball and for me as well. and it’s a great way to dig in deeper than we can if we’re just reading magazines or whatever. but even then you’re still going to miss a lot of stuff. [I did that in Italy and walked away with hundreds of CDs and then one day on the beach I bought a bunch of bootlegs or pirated cds and I pop in this supposed Nelly CD and instead this amazing Italian music comes on and it turns out that its this guy Ivanno fussatti, who is now my favorite Italian singer, and out of all the hundreds of cds that the clerks chose for me at the stores, no one picked out any of his... so you never know. it seems there will always be little treasures out there left for us to discover. Let us hope so.]
[in a moment’s thought so many other things tie together from this dialogue... I had been thinking about how when people that you know ask you ‘what are you doing tonight?’ and you know they may be going to a movie, or going to dinner, or going to a bar with friends, or going to a club to pick up girls, or to a party or whatever... and since I was very young I have always been kind of isolated from a lot of that, not as much as some mad scientists types we hear of, but probably pretty damn close to that. an extremely social anti-social kind of person I think is a good way to describe it. I have always had a real hard time with things like that, because I get really nervous and anxious at social things because I am always thinking about all the work I could be doing. I have always found more pleasure in “working,” and a lot of times working is just creating or reading or studying something. Even though my heart always longs for close solid friendships as well. you know, you don't lose that. its not as if you don't have that. because you do. you still want to have the security and warm fuzzy feeling of having good friends and family around you. but rather than spend any time going to hang out, I've always found it more rewarding to just keep on working all the time. what I really like is when I can just have friends hanging around while I work. That's cool. like they can be in another room watching a movie or drinking and talking and I can kind of still be there, but I can be writing or songwriting or studying or whatever. look and make the occasional comment. Best of both worlds...
still, you don't often get that. most of the time your friends want to go out and do stuff. Like say Friday night hits and all your friends go to a party, but I want to stay home in order to watch three or four classic French films, because at the time I am ‘researching classic French film.’ “Of course you are,” as the Poet would joke. and that's what I'm saying, back to the original point. I'm not sure what it is. its this never-ending hunger to know everything. so its like one day you realize you’ve seen every classic or ‘considered great’ American movie ever made. I mean, you just wake up one day and you are at the end of the road with it. its sad in a way. Because that's over for you now. you're done with it. so the only thing you can do is move on to all the great Italian directors, then the French, or the Iranian, or Russian, or Japanese, etc, and after a few years, you realize that you and film have finished courting. Your relationship is over. You can watch movies over and over again, but for the most part you are done with that. you’ve reached the wall.
Now I’ve noticed that in my brief time here I have done that with so many things already; literature and poetry, theology and religion and philosophy of course. The sciences are always good to go back to you, dig deeper. But you know, how do you get beyond expert at something? I guess that from there you can start looking for the undiscovered...
[I take that back. experts are different. They keep on studying something beyond the endpoint. They get to the end and they decide to turn back and look around more. they get involved in actually memorizing aspects of a certain subject or field. That's never been my thing. I've noticed that I m more interested in just researching to the endpoint. Getting through it, to that deepest most basic understanding of it, so you see the ‘who what why how when and where’ of something and that's enough. There are always going to be people who are more interested in studying every minute detail of something and just spending their whole life in that, and we should leave that to them. Those are the experts.]
Music of course. I don't think there’s an artist or album that has ever existed or been made that I don't have in my collection. And I don't mean that from a layperson’s point of view, like when your best friend Johnny says that between bites of his cheeseburger, where they may have a few thousand cds in their collection that they're real proud of. But I'm talking about more from a scholar’s or researcher’s viewpoint: ‘have you ever heard this 1933 recording of pygmy mouth harp music from central Africa?’ [there are no pygmies in central Africa of course.] along with all the usual stuff that we all know about. I'll go to a store in a new country and say to a few of the clerks (because its impossible for us as non-natives to know all the good stuff except the really popular stuff) ‘Look, pick out every single classic or cool or cult album ever made in this country and start putting them on the counter. Would you do that for me?’ and of course for them it’s a ball and for me as well. and it’s a great way to dig in deeper than we can if we’re just reading magazines or whatever. but even then you’re still going to miss a lot of stuff. [I did that in Italy and walked away with hundreds of CDs and then one day on the beach I bought a bunch of bootlegs or pirated cds and I pop in this supposed Nelly CD and instead this amazing Italian music comes on and it turns out that its this guy Ivanno fussatti, who is now my favorite Italian singer, and out of all the hundreds of cds that the clerks chose for me at the stores, no one picked out any of his... so you never know. it seems there will always be little treasures out there left for us to discover. Let us hope so.]
Went to an amazingly fun party today with the band. many synchronistic events with several of the people there, who I didn't know at first and then after more careful exploration we realized that we had all these connections between us. cool. One thing I have noticed with no particularly air of importance attached to it is that as soon as I made a firm commitment to sell the house and car and move to NYC, all of a sudden I am making all of these really great new friendships here in Miami. so strange.
Juliet called today. spoke like old friends for an hour or so. Time whizzing by. She comments that the mind is the ultimate erogenous zone, the mental is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I would agree. Style is important. God knows I believe that one. insert chuckle here. But it is the mind that really turns me on. I think a lot of people here don't realize that yet. hence its reputation for shallowness. Certainly not unwarranted in its current stage of infancy. But South beach is growing on me. the other city that never sleeps. You feel it creeping up on you unexpectedly. One minute I'm selling everything I own to in order to move to New York; two days later I'm looking at properties to buy so I can “have a place to come back to here.” you know, its just kind of an addictive place. the city is growing so fast its unbelievable. You can be smack dab in the middle of a burgeoning business development area and still see wild chickens crossing the street and vendors selling things on every corner of the busy streets---old Cuban guys in little tank tops holding up five mangos for a dollar or bottles of water. That's Miami. it’s a crazy place. as Bas likes to say, it feels like we live on a remote island here, far away from the rest of the country. there is this ‘you can do anything you want to as long as you don't hurt anybody else’ attitude in Miami that is probably the most predominant aspect of the city besides its primarily-Latino culture. Anything goes in Miami. and everyone knows it. including the governmental officials and the police etc. its very relaxed like that. office buildings are filled with people who come to work in jeans and sandals. Fashion is everything to the average Miamian. And because its so goddamn hot here fashion can mean something as simple as how low your jeans are hanging off your ass or how high a girl’s halter top rises from her belly. That's one of the cool things about Miami. but it gets old pretty fast. you miss real fashion.
Current Read: Studying Morocco now.
Juliet called today. spoke like old friends for an hour or so. Time whizzing by. She comments that the mind is the ultimate erogenous zone, the mental is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I would agree. Style is important. God knows I believe that one. insert chuckle here. But it is the mind that really turns me on. I think a lot of people here don't realize that yet. hence its reputation for shallowness. Certainly not unwarranted in its current stage of infancy. But South beach is growing on me. the other city that never sleeps. You feel it creeping up on you unexpectedly. One minute I'm selling everything I own to in order to move to New York; two days later I'm looking at properties to buy so I can “have a place to come back to here.” you know, its just kind of an addictive place. the city is growing so fast its unbelievable. You can be smack dab in the middle of a burgeoning business development area and still see wild chickens crossing the street and vendors selling things on every corner of the busy streets---old Cuban guys in little tank tops holding up five mangos for a dollar or bottles of water. That's Miami. it’s a crazy place. as Bas likes to say, it feels like we live on a remote island here, far away from the rest of the country. there is this ‘you can do anything you want to as long as you don't hurt anybody else’ attitude in Miami that is probably the most predominant aspect of the city besides its primarily-Latino culture. Anything goes in Miami. and everyone knows it. including the governmental officials and the police etc. its very relaxed like that. office buildings are filled with people who come to work in jeans and sandals. Fashion is everything to the average Miamian. And because its so goddamn hot here fashion can mean something as simple as how low your jeans are hanging off your ass or how high a girl’s halter top rises from her belly. That's one of the cool things about Miami. but it gets old pretty fast. you miss real fashion.
Current Read: Studying Morocco now.
Friday, July 02, 2004
Marlon Brando died last night. he was eighty years old, so good for him. nothing to mourn there. just celebrate the man and the legend. He was one of the Beatles; that's for sure.
When reading about the Brando antics over the last twenty or thirty years, just some crazy stuff, one wonders... is that going to be inevitable for us? to get that loony and over the top in our own lives. Of course I'm thinking this in this Cuban bar. It’s a Friday night. the place is packed with partiers taking in the end of the week. large groups of smiling nine to five faces. But me I'm not nine to five. So Friday doesn’t mean as much when you're working around the clock, making your own hours. ALWAYS making it happen, rather than just punching a clock for another paycheck. I've had both. they both have their plusses and minuses. But I digress. So I'm alone and sitting at this little table drinking mojitos, smoking Cuban cigars, and typing on my laptop. Just me and the laptop. People must think I'm fucking mad. Who is that freak over there typing away with that cigar dangling out of his mouth? [The waitresses here are all ugly. I will have to drink a lot to see outer beauty in them. although I'm sure they are very nice.]
After hearing of Brando’s passing, I am thinking to myself, and not revealing it to anyone, ‘am I already insane? ‘Brando insane? Perhaps I just don't know it yet. already displaying many of the sociopathic, hermitic qualities.’’ The truth is that we were supposed to be on tour in Europe by now. So this is borrowed time. I had no plans for tonight. figured I would be in the UK. So here I sit in a bar smoking and drinking and typing madly. In a crowded bar but somehow completely isolated from the rest of the patrons. Rattling off a few one-liners. Week’s worth of crap floating around up there. feels good to let the week out, even if it is entirely imaginary. [did you know that the days of the week Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday come from the Druid names of gods? Yes, still studying Great Britain history.]
I'm off to some remote location tomorrow. I have no idea where. I will log on. Book a flight to somewhere and take off for the weekend by myself. Just get the hell out of dodge to do some exploring. I can’t be sure but I get the feeling that I cannot be here for the fourth of July. with everything going on in America right now, it just doesn’t feel right. the cheapest foreign locale is where I'm headed. Anywhere but America.
O.k. so where were we? It is hot as hell in Miami Beach these days. I've seen it clocked at a hundred and four the past few days. soaking wet hot. But I'm not a writer and I will not waste my time attempting to write about things like the weather. On with the real story.
Girls popping up everywhere. everyday a new girl coming in. And me, I'm left with the options: Play the game or hold out for number one. number one feels close now. really close. Girls just coming from everywhere. which is a good sign. I take that mean that she is close. ??? what do I mean by that? not sure.
When reading about the Brando antics over the last twenty or thirty years, just some crazy stuff, one wonders... is that going to be inevitable for us? to get that loony and over the top in our own lives. Of course I'm thinking this in this Cuban bar. It’s a Friday night. the place is packed with partiers taking in the end of the week. large groups of smiling nine to five faces. But me I'm not nine to five. So Friday doesn’t mean as much when you're working around the clock, making your own hours. ALWAYS making it happen, rather than just punching a clock for another paycheck. I've had both. they both have their plusses and minuses. But I digress. So I'm alone and sitting at this little table drinking mojitos, smoking Cuban cigars, and typing on my laptop. Just me and the laptop. People must think I'm fucking mad. Who is that freak over there typing away with that cigar dangling out of his mouth? [The waitresses here are all ugly. I will have to drink a lot to see outer beauty in them. although I'm sure they are very nice.]
After hearing of Brando’s passing, I am thinking to myself, and not revealing it to anyone, ‘am I already insane? ‘Brando insane? Perhaps I just don't know it yet. already displaying many of the sociopathic, hermitic qualities.’’ The truth is that we were supposed to be on tour in Europe by now. So this is borrowed time. I had no plans for tonight. figured I would be in the UK. So here I sit in a bar smoking and drinking and typing madly. In a crowded bar but somehow completely isolated from the rest of the patrons. Rattling off a few one-liners. Week’s worth of crap floating around up there. feels good to let the week out, even if it is entirely imaginary. [did you know that the days of the week Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday come from the Druid names of gods? Yes, still studying Great Britain history.]
I'm off to some remote location tomorrow. I have no idea where. I will log on. Book a flight to somewhere and take off for the weekend by myself. Just get the hell out of dodge to do some exploring. I can’t be sure but I get the feeling that I cannot be here for the fourth of July. with everything going on in America right now, it just doesn’t feel right. the cheapest foreign locale is where I'm headed. Anywhere but America.
O.k. so where were we? It is hot as hell in Miami Beach these days. I've seen it clocked at a hundred and four the past few days. soaking wet hot. But I'm not a writer and I will not waste my time attempting to write about things like the weather. On with the real story.
Girls popping up everywhere. everyday a new girl coming in. And me, I'm left with the options: Play the game or hold out for number one. number one feels close now. really close. Girls just coming from everywhere. which is a good sign. I take that mean that she is close. ??? what do I mean by that? not sure.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Two days in the new apartment on South beach. Words cannot describe our horror. South beach is a sewer pit of small efficiencies and tenements. Beggars, druggies, beach bums, young way-wards with nothing on their minds but partying. Mostly immigrants from South American countries whose noses sit high in the air because they are praying to God someone will notice their new sunglasses or sneakers. Last night on the phone with jazz, I asked her about South beach life and this shallow arrogance that seems to suffuse from the entire island. We explore the fact that a few years ago South beach was something. there was talk of it. and people were moving here from all over the world. Prince and even Madonna had clubs here. but those days are long gone. The stars are gone. And according to census records, over one hundred and fifty thousand ‘white Americans’ moved from Miami in the year 2003. BUT, over 280,000 South Americans moved to Miami in 2003. in the early nineties, late eighties, it was called the Great Exodus. That was when millions of Americans moved out of Miami as more and more central and South Americans moved in. We used to see it on the news. there were bumper stickers on many cars that read “Would the last American leaving Miami please bring the American flag.” But some people stayed. A few. Eleven percent according to year 2000 records were actually left. Well now according to Forbes magazine what we are seeing is the Final Exodus; where the last of the white or North Americans are leaving by the hundreds of thousands, but the rest of the Americas are coming in droves. So the city has changed. And I, the last American, remain, for but a few brief months to finish up some last minute business with my boys.
Indeed. I am accustomed to the billboards and street signs all being in Spanish, to communicating with my housekeeper, lawn man, postman, bank tellers, handyman, restaurant servers, court clerks, etc in Spanish. But two days ago when I awoke to find a huge moving truck parked outside and four men in my house waiting for me to wake up so we could move, I asked the gentlemen, “o.k., so who’s in charge here?” and their answer was “Como?” I realized that not one of them spoke English. So we were going to spend the entire day trying to communicate with one another about moving all of our stuff intro three different places, storage, a music studio, and an apartment on South beach, in Spanish. And we had no way of communicating except in Spanish. It was pretty crazy. But we made it through alright. Everyone had a good time. I learned a lot of Spanish and they learned a little English perhaps. [Although these days contrast with years ago when they were learning English as fast as they could once they arrived. Now it’s the few Americans left that are forced to learn Spanish as fast as we can. Because people can come here from any of the South or Central American countries and not have to learn a word of English their entire life here and no one will ever notice. Its really a remarkable thing.]
So many ideas of how it all ties in. Voraciously studying the history of all the European countries we are going to on tour this summer. every few days I finish the history of one country and move on to another so I can have a small amount of perspective as we make our way around the mother continent. With even this small amount of perspective I have gathered the last few years of civilization’s history I cannot help but understand that countries change all the time. the people change. The languages change. We are witnessing that here in Miami.
Indeed. I am accustomed to the billboards and street signs all being in Spanish, to communicating with my housekeeper, lawn man, postman, bank tellers, handyman, restaurant servers, court clerks, etc in Spanish. But two days ago when I awoke to find a huge moving truck parked outside and four men in my house waiting for me to wake up so we could move, I asked the gentlemen, “o.k., so who’s in charge here?” and their answer was “Como?” I realized that not one of them spoke English. So we were going to spend the entire day trying to communicate with one another about moving all of our stuff intro three different places, storage, a music studio, and an apartment on South beach, in Spanish. And we had no way of communicating except in Spanish. It was pretty crazy. But we made it through alright. Everyone had a good time. I learned a lot of Spanish and they learned a little English perhaps. [Although these days contrast with years ago when they were learning English as fast as they could once they arrived. Now it’s the few Americans left that are forced to learn Spanish as fast as we can. Because people can come here from any of the South or Central American countries and not have to learn a word of English their entire life here and no one will ever notice. Its really a remarkable thing.]
So many ideas of how it all ties in. Voraciously studying the history of all the European countries we are going to on tour this summer. every few days I finish the history of one country and move on to another so I can have a small amount of perspective as we make our way around the mother continent. With even this small amount of perspective I have gathered the last few years of civilization’s history I cannot help but understand that countries change all the time. the people change. The languages change. We are witnessing that here in Miami.
The dream:
This morning at 7 am I awoke to one of the most beautiful dreams. A series of small scenes. I had a dog that when my cell phone would vibrate he would bring it to me in his mouth. I thought this was so cute and I told Juliet about it. Because strangely enough, Juliet was staying at my mom’s house. It was such a warm cozy feeling that I still feel emotional writing about it. why was she there? I don't know. I watched her as she opened presents. she was unwrapping presents, one was a juicer. I was just watching. Perhaps not even participating in that event. She was so happy, so full of joy. like a child. I found a very deep and giddy feeling watching her so happy. later in the kitchen, I watched her and my mom talking and cooking. Juliet was again happy and curious and filled with questions and observations about life. later that night, mom called to make sure that we were eating properly. She was out. it was late. I needed to get to meeting about a music video for us. [if this was a premonition of things to come, the video was coming out excellently. I was very impressed with the guy’s work.] I was alone in the house. Juliet came down the stairs in her underwear and no shirt. We bumped into one another. We hid our surprise well. we talked. As always, we were polite, reserved, and respectful with one another. We stood in the dimly lit kitchen talking and sharing. Like two old souls caught in a moment.
There was more. I cannot remember it right now. all I know is that I woke up so deeply and madly in love with Juliet again, just like when we were children. I could not go back to sleep. Lying there floating in that feeling of love for her. In reality we are worlds apart. But there is something in me that is so tied to her, that honestly it feels as though it is from another lifetime, this connection that I feel to her some times. I cannot explain it. here's the thing. its not just the way she looks. In fact, it isn't so much the way she looks. Because although, yes, I am so captivated by her eyes that I could stare in them forever, her look is not my usual look, or better put, her style is not my usual style, the kind that I prefer... But what it is, it’s the way she is. When she writes I am so absorbed in it that you would think I was reading the original draft of the Magna Carta or something. and the sound of her voice brings chills to me and makes me feel so good when we speak. It gives me a great sense of joy and calm. A special feeling inside that I always find surprising. Why? I have no fucking idea and truly wish it were not that way. Because she is very happy out there in the great north woods doing her hippie thing with this hippie guy who seems like a wonderful man who I would get along fabulously with. Like I said, its not something I would ever speak to her about for many reasons; out of respect for her current relationship, and also because our worlds have grown so far apart that it just wouldn’t be practical for us to entertain anything but a casual acquaintance. But these dreams I have of her are so, what's the word, BIG, and DEEP, and meaningful. And the other signs that pop up about her. I wonder, what is the meaning of them? these other signs? What is the significance of Juliet in the life of Fishy? who is she in the bigger picture? Sometimes when we are speaking, and mentions something about her “man” I want to scream at her, “Would you stop it already?! Don't you know that I'm your man?!” Half the time that I am speaking with her I want to scream ‘I don't know if you're supposed to be with that guy! As crazy as it sounds, Juliet I think you're supposed to be with me!” And trust me, I don't want to say this. I enjoy the way I'm living right now. I enjoy the ancient roman lifestyle so to speak. And Juliet as much as I adore her.... we’re just too different. But here's the deal: then what are the signs about? And sometimes, do you ever think things in our lives are bigger than just us and our own small plans for them. The old master plan concept. Know it well. in the last two days I have met so many beautiful girls, and have just been high from it, the prospects of this Moroccan I met yesterday are especially enticing because I have not been with a Moroccan yet. I will need to add her to the collection either way... But the truth is that when I think of Juliet... no I won't even finish that. Because I bet all I need to do is just see her. just see her in the flesh and then I am sure it will all become clear. I think it’s a kind of psychological thing where I am projecting all that my subconscious mind considers sweet and pure and innocent and intelligent onto Juliet just because I can.... something like that.
Of course I say nothing to her. Because who knows. perhaps it’s wishful thinking. Or just an over active imagination. After all, I'm an artist, and as Juliet has reminded me many times over the last twenty years, artists are in love with love. I think that sometimes we become so absorbed with love and romance that we forget that people can have an impact in our lives without having to be our lover or spouse or whatever. In my heart I want to see her in person and stare in her eyes and hear her soft voice in real life. again, tell her that? Juliet, I want to stare in your eyes. crazy. and quite frankly, disrespectful, because she has a boyfriend. So I can see for myself what its all about. i think it would be great to discover that she is a great lifelong friend and nothing more. I would welcome this idea. It would bring me great relief.
But I cannot help but think, what if she isn't just that... and how do I handle it? what if she is the one? does she ever think about it? and what if she is not the one? which is what I suspect? Am am I being disloyal or unfaithful somehow by even considering her as such? May she forgive me whoever she is.
This morning at 7 am I awoke to one of the most beautiful dreams. A series of small scenes. I had a dog that when my cell phone would vibrate he would bring it to me in his mouth. I thought this was so cute and I told Juliet about it. Because strangely enough, Juliet was staying at my mom’s house. It was such a warm cozy feeling that I still feel emotional writing about it. why was she there? I don't know. I watched her as she opened presents. she was unwrapping presents, one was a juicer. I was just watching. Perhaps not even participating in that event. She was so happy, so full of joy. like a child. I found a very deep and giddy feeling watching her so happy. later in the kitchen, I watched her and my mom talking and cooking. Juliet was again happy and curious and filled with questions and observations about life. later that night, mom called to make sure that we were eating properly. She was out. it was late. I needed to get to meeting about a music video for us. [if this was a premonition of things to come, the video was coming out excellently. I was very impressed with the guy’s work.] I was alone in the house. Juliet came down the stairs in her underwear and no shirt. We bumped into one another. We hid our surprise well. we talked. As always, we were polite, reserved, and respectful with one another. We stood in the dimly lit kitchen talking and sharing. Like two old souls caught in a moment.
There was more. I cannot remember it right now. all I know is that I woke up so deeply and madly in love with Juliet again, just like when we were children. I could not go back to sleep. Lying there floating in that feeling of love for her. In reality we are worlds apart. But there is something in me that is so tied to her, that honestly it feels as though it is from another lifetime, this connection that I feel to her some times. I cannot explain it. here's the thing. its not just the way she looks. In fact, it isn't so much the way she looks. Because although, yes, I am so captivated by her eyes that I could stare in them forever, her look is not my usual look, or better put, her style is not my usual style, the kind that I prefer... But what it is, it’s the way she is. When she writes I am so absorbed in it that you would think I was reading the original draft of the Magna Carta or something. and the sound of her voice brings chills to me and makes me feel so good when we speak. It gives me a great sense of joy and calm. A special feeling inside that I always find surprising. Why? I have no fucking idea and truly wish it were not that way. Because she is very happy out there in the great north woods doing her hippie thing with this hippie guy who seems like a wonderful man who I would get along fabulously with. Like I said, its not something I would ever speak to her about for many reasons; out of respect for her current relationship, and also because our worlds have grown so far apart that it just wouldn’t be practical for us to entertain anything but a casual acquaintance. But these dreams I have of her are so, what's the word, BIG, and DEEP, and meaningful. And the other signs that pop up about her. I wonder, what is the meaning of them? these other signs? What is the significance of Juliet in the life of Fishy? who is she in the bigger picture? Sometimes when we are speaking, and mentions something about her “man” I want to scream at her, “Would you stop it already?! Don't you know that I'm your man?!” Half the time that I am speaking with her I want to scream ‘I don't know if you're supposed to be with that guy! As crazy as it sounds, Juliet I think you're supposed to be with me!” And trust me, I don't want to say this. I enjoy the way I'm living right now. I enjoy the ancient roman lifestyle so to speak. And Juliet as much as I adore her.... we’re just too different. But here's the deal: then what are the signs about? And sometimes, do you ever think things in our lives are bigger than just us and our own small plans for them. The old master plan concept. Know it well. in the last two days I have met so many beautiful girls, and have just been high from it, the prospects of this Moroccan I met yesterday are especially enticing because I have not been with a Moroccan yet. I will need to add her to the collection either way... But the truth is that when I think of Juliet... no I won't even finish that. Because I bet all I need to do is just see her. just see her in the flesh and then I am sure it will all become clear. I think it’s a kind of psychological thing where I am projecting all that my subconscious mind considers sweet and pure and innocent and intelligent onto Juliet just because I can.... something like that.
Of course I say nothing to her. Because who knows. perhaps it’s wishful thinking. Or just an over active imagination. After all, I'm an artist, and as Juliet has reminded me many times over the last twenty years, artists are in love with love. I think that sometimes we become so absorbed with love and romance that we forget that people can have an impact in our lives without having to be our lover or spouse or whatever. In my heart I want to see her in person and stare in her eyes and hear her soft voice in real life. again, tell her that? Juliet, I want to stare in your eyes. crazy. and quite frankly, disrespectful, because she has a boyfriend. So I can see for myself what its all about. i think it would be great to discover that she is a great lifelong friend and nothing more. I would welcome this idea. It would bring me great relief.
But I cannot help but think, what if she isn't just that... and how do I handle it? what if she is the one? does she ever think about it? and what if she is not the one? which is what I suspect? Am am I being disloyal or unfaithful somehow by even considering her as such? May she forgive me whoever she is.
We saw this show about people who have these strange obsessions about their bodies. Just totally out of hand. check this one out:
trich·o·til·lo·ma·ni·a ( (trk-tl-mn-, -mny) n.
The compulsion to tear or pluck out the hair on one's head and face and often to ingest it.
Millions of people suffer from it they say. Of course if you're semi-normal, you're going to freak out about this. Seeing it on TV and all. One of the weirdest things I have ever seen. They’ve traced it now in mice to something genetic perhaps which is a good thing. maybe one day they can find a genetic cure for it and other obsessive compulsive disorders.
Throughout the viewing I just kept asking myself, asking consciousness, what is good in this? Where is the good in this? What can we learn from this? I think that's important. That way we don't get hung up on it. Don’t get hung up on the potentially bad judgments of it. maybe there is something there for us in it. Has to be. Stay eternally optimistic in all matters. Look for the good. Look for the benefit. There is a message there for us.
Last screening: lord of the rings part three. HOLY COW!!! What an epic. This could be the best movie ever made. I mean, obviously there are hundreds of those. But this one fits in there somewhere. Loved it. What a world they created. Can’t believe its not real. A real testament to the genius at play there.
trich·o·til·lo·ma·ni·a ( (trk-tl-mn-, -mny) n.
The compulsion to tear or pluck out the hair on one's head and face and often to ingest it.
Millions of people suffer from it they say. Of course if you're semi-normal, you're going to freak out about this. Seeing it on TV and all. One of the weirdest things I have ever seen. They’ve traced it now in mice to something genetic perhaps which is a good thing. maybe one day they can find a genetic cure for it and other obsessive compulsive disorders.
Throughout the viewing I just kept asking myself, asking consciousness, what is good in this? Where is the good in this? What can we learn from this? I think that's important. That way we don't get hung up on it. Don’t get hung up on the potentially bad judgments of it. maybe there is something there for us in it. Has to be. Stay eternally optimistic in all matters. Look for the good. Look for the benefit. There is a message there for us.
Last screening: lord of the rings part three. HOLY COW!!! What an epic. This could be the best movie ever made. I mean, obviously there are hundreds of those. But this one fits in there somewhere. Loved it. What a world they created. Can’t believe its not real. A real testament to the genius at play there.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Monday, June 28, 2004
Studying the history of Holland for a few days now. not so exciting. they have spent thousands of years doing what is known as ‘reclaiming’ land from the ocean so they can live in all these towns close to the sea. When in fact they have this huge piece of land more inland that they wouldn’t even have to worry about the oceans waves. Millions and millions of acres of it, but they persist in spending billions of dollars on trying to take back the land from the ocean by building all these dykes and rivers and dams etc. Really weird. Cities like Amsterdam should be completely underwater by now, but the people persist in trying to fight the flow of nature. Lots of cool stuff in this. Not as an exciting history than say England or Italy, but lots of cool stuff. Rembrandt and Van Gough of course. And for a very brief time they ruled the entire western world, but that didn't last long.
Many of us got together tonight to go see the Fahrenheit 911 film, as did many groups all over the country. as was the case nationwide theatres were sold out and you had to wait in these enormous lines to get in once you bought your ticket ten hours earlier.
As we watched all these people sitting on the floor in line to see this film like it was some Hollywood blockbuster you really felt in awe of the whole thing. all of this for a documentary? What? And what's more, a documentary about politics? Well America is changing. You had to feel a real sense of joy and pride in who we are turning into as a people. the people are getting smarter. More knowledgeable and more interested in what's going on. you know what? This isn't going to be like our fathers Vietnam. We’re not going to let it.
Although, unlike many, there was nothing new in the movie for me---these were things I had been ranting about for years, and everyone was saying I was crazy talking about the whole bush and bin laden being business together and the Saudis owning more of America than any of we do---I still walked away sick and angry and sad. You couldn’t help it. our media has been so irresponsible in covering the other side of the invasion, refusing to show us any of the civilian casualties, or even tell us how many we have killed now. they just pretend that its about us and our goal to take over their country. they never bother to mention the billions of dollars that American companies are making for the takeover or that other multi-national companies stand to make or even the fact that the Saudis are bound to make more than any of us from it. they just keep right on with their cute little façade that we are liberators and some kind of heroes. But when everyone was sitting in that theater tonight, boy did we get an eyeful and an earful. People were just in shock.
I have received so many calls from friends all over the country telling me to go see the film. people really I think are just in shock right now. they are starting to realize that it isn't just the stuff of crazy liberal conspiracy theorists anymore. That something really crazy and horrible has happened to us here.
Allow me to be the first to say right along with the republicans, but as a big fan, that Michael Moore is a putz. No one is going to argue that. but he is one brave mother fucker. And thank God for him. all I can say is its about fucking time.
The question that is begging to be asked of course is ‘o.k. now what?’ what are we actually going to do about this insanity? And even more frightening is this: “what can we actually do about it?” they stole the fucking election for gods sake. We all watched it happen right before our eyes. I think that at the time we were just so damn complacent from the Clinton golden years that we figured hey what the hell lets just ride it out. how bad can this guy be? well we certainly learned the hard way. That’s for sure.
The poet and Madeline and the king all calling me today asking me what the hell are we going to do Fishy? what do you think we can do about this? my answer? I don't know. I guess we just do our best to get him out of there.
But more than that, it would appear that the problem runs much deeper than that now for us. whether its George bush stealing the presidency and then lying to us to make us invade another country of innocent people, or bill Clinton selling our weapons secrets to china, or geare bush senior sitting on the board of directors of Saudi Arabian companies when they attacked us in numerous terrorist attacks, or even our beloved Ronald Reagan selling biological weapons to Iraq or other weapons to Iran behind our backs.... I mean, the list goes on and on. If we’re all not sincerely and alarmingly aware that we have a serious fucking problem on our hands at this point, then I don't know what its going to take.
If we have a problem in America, and most certainly we do, a glaring open wound of a fucking problem, its this underlying fear that we all must be feeling by now tugging at our souls that there probably isn't much we can do now about any of it. our lives are not so much in our control as much as they are just newsbites on our television screens at this point.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. What we need to do is just get tough like parents are to their children. One fuckup and you get a warning. Two fuckups and you are out of there. I don't care if we have to have ten presidents every four years instead of one. eventually the right man for the job will come up to the plate. I'll tell you this. if w. bush was the CEO of a company that we were all shareholders of he would have been gone years ago. We wouldn’t have batted an eye at asking him to leave. America is much more important than any corporation though. Its our fucking country. its our fucking lifeblood. And it’s the lifeblood of our children should we get lucky enough to ever have children someday. We don't tolerate lying or cheating from our kids or our friends or our lovers if we’re smart or enlightened individuals. Why would we possibly tolerate it from our elected leaders? That's something that I will just never understand.
As we watched all these people sitting on the floor in line to see this film like it was some Hollywood blockbuster you really felt in awe of the whole thing. all of this for a documentary? What? And what's more, a documentary about politics? Well America is changing. You had to feel a real sense of joy and pride in who we are turning into as a people. the people are getting smarter. More knowledgeable and more interested in what's going on. you know what? This isn't going to be like our fathers Vietnam. We’re not going to let it.
Although, unlike many, there was nothing new in the movie for me---these were things I had been ranting about for years, and everyone was saying I was crazy talking about the whole bush and bin laden being business together and the Saudis owning more of America than any of we do---I still walked away sick and angry and sad. You couldn’t help it. our media has been so irresponsible in covering the other side of the invasion, refusing to show us any of the civilian casualties, or even tell us how many we have killed now. they just pretend that its about us and our goal to take over their country. they never bother to mention the billions of dollars that American companies are making for the takeover or that other multi-national companies stand to make or even the fact that the Saudis are bound to make more than any of us from it. they just keep right on with their cute little façade that we are liberators and some kind of heroes. But when everyone was sitting in that theater tonight, boy did we get an eyeful and an earful. People were just in shock.
I have received so many calls from friends all over the country telling me to go see the film. people really I think are just in shock right now. they are starting to realize that it isn't just the stuff of crazy liberal conspiracy theorists anymore. That something really crazy and horrible has happened to us here.
Allow me to be the first to say right along with the republicans, but as a big fan, that Michael Moore is a putz. No one is going to argue that. but he is one brave mother fucker. And thank God for him. all I can say is its about fucking time.
The question that is begging to be asked of course is ‘o.k. now what?’ what are we actually going to do about this insanity? And even more frightening is this: “what can we actually do about it?” they stole the fucking election for gods sake. We all watched it happen right before our eyes. I think that at the time we were just so damn complacent from the Clinton golden years that we figured hey what the hell lets just ride it out. how bad can this guy be? well we certainly learned the hard way. That’s for sure.
The poet and Madeline and the king all calling me today asking me what the hell are we going to do Fishy? what do you think we can do about this? my answer? I don't know. I guess we just do our best to get him out of there.
But more than that, it would appear that the problem runs much deeper than that now for us. whether its George bush stealing the presidency and then lying to us to make us invade another country of innocent people, or bill Clinton selling our weapons secrets to china, or geare bush senior sitting on the board of directors of Saudi Arabian companies when they attacked us in numerous terrorist attacks, or even our beloved Ronald Reagan selling biological weapons to Iraq or other weapons to Iran behind our backs.... I mean, the list goes on and on. If we’re all not sincerely and alarmingly aware that we have a serious fucking problem on our hands at this point, then I don't know what its going to take.
If we have a problem in America, and most certainly we do, a glaring open wound of a fucking problem, its this underlying fear that we all must be feeling by now tugging at our souls that there probably isn't much we can do now about any of it. our lives are not so much in our control as much as they are just newsbites on our television screens at this point.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. What we need to do is just get tough like parents are to their children. One fuckup and you get a warning. Two fuckups and you are out of there. I don't care if we have to have ten presidents every four years instead of one. eventually the right man for the job will come up to the plate. I'll tell you this. if w. bush was the CEO of a company that we were all shareholders of he would have been gone years ago. We wouldn’t have batted an eye at asking him to leave. America is much more important than any corporation though. Its our fucking country. its our fucking lifeblood. And it’s the lifeblood of our children should we get lucky enough to ever have children someday. We don't tolerate lying or cheating from our kids or our friends or our lovers if we’re smart or enlightened individuals. Why would we possibly tolerate it from our elected leaders? That's something that I will just never understand.
Friday, June 25, 2004
Happy birthday to Infinito! Big 30 for him today. Most guys are lame. They never remember things like other peoples birthdays. And if they do, then they don't know what to do about it. guys just aren't good about birthdays for the most part. They can’t help it. I tell the lady on the phone at my bank. ’hey listen I have man disease. I'm sorry for bouncing so much checks. I could have a million dollars in there and somehow I still manage to bounce half those checks. Don't ask me how. Just help me.’ she actually did help me.
Anyway, happy birthday Infinito. Its been a long time brother. Glad to know you.
I have noticed that ever since everything went down with the Ferret, I have felt this subconscious reluctance to get close to new people I am starting to make friends with... have made so many new friends, but notice within myself this subtle fear of going in all the way. have to explore what beliefs are and let them go.
Being in line at the immigration office to check on visa status for Europe. You know there's this fear when you are in line... that you are going to lose your place. you notice that. you're afraid to go get a drink of water because what if you lose your place in line. most of the time its cool. you can tell the person behind you to save your place. that you'll be back. but this time I was waiting in a long line. I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be great if I could just say to the people behind me, ‘listen, I'm going to go goof off for a while. make some calls, maybe go hang out outside. Do me a favor and hold my place in line and I'll be back once this line clears.’ But I didn't dare. You know how people are about lines. They are so possessive about their place in line. most have this attitude about lines that if you leave your place in line that you lose it. which is silly because after all that's still your place in line, whether you are there physically or not. Only an idiot would stand there if he didn't have to. everyone can see that its your place. but the problem is that we are still dealing with idiots for the most part. So you don't dare take the risk of assuming someone is enlightened enough to just let your place be your place whether you are actually standing in line or not. But one day I see us even transcending lines too. One day we are going to get there. everyone can get in their place in line and after a minute or two just go do whatever and when its their turn they can come back and step up to the counter or checkout or what have you and not worry about losing their place. kind of like those little pagers they give us at restaurants. Great idea. A virtual line. ‘excuse me miss?’ ‘yes?’ Can you do me a favor and call my cell when you get up to the counter so I can run back and get back in line behind you?’ ‘Oh well certainly.’ ‘Thanks.’ One day.
Anyway, happy birthday Infinito. Its been a long time brother. Glad to know you.
I have noticed that ever since everything went down with the Ferret, I have felt this subconscious reluctance to get close to new people I am starting to make friends with... have made so many new friends, but notice within myself this subtle fear of going in all the way. have to explore what beliefs are and let them go.
Being in line at the immigration office to check on visa status for Europe. You know there's this fear when you are in line... that you are going to lose your place. you notice that. you're afraid to go get a drink of water because what if you lose your place in line. most of the time its cool. you can tell the person behind you to save your place. that you'll be back. but this time I was waiting in a long line. I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be great if I could just say to the people behind me, ‘listen, I'm going to go goof off for a while. make some calls, maybe go hang out outside. Do me a favor and hold my place in line and I'll be back once this line clears.’ But I didn't dare. You know how people are about lines. They are so possessive about their place in line. most have this attitude about lines that if you leave your place in line that you lose it. which is silly because after all that's still your place in line, whether you are there physically or not. Only an idiot would stand there if he didn't have to. everyone can see that its your place. but the problem is that we are still dealing with idiots for the most part. So you don't dare take the risk of assuming someone is enlightened enough to just let your place be your place whether you are actually standing in line or not. But one day I see us even transcending lines too. One day we are going to get there. everyone can get in their place in line and after a minute or two just go do whatever and when its their turn they can come back and step up to the counter or checkout or what have you and not worry about losing their place. kind of like those little pagers they give us at restaurants. Great idea. A virtual line. ‘excuse me miss?’ ‘yes?’ Can you do me a favor and call my cell when you get up to the counter so I can run back and get back in line behind you?’ ‘Oh well certainly.’ ‘Thanks.’ One day.
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