The Illusions of War and Peace

Law of our Maker:
Make others become like you.
Futureless asshole.

Every time I see a talking head on TV yapping about Iraq, I just shake my head and laugh. It's all about politics and scheming and debates over whose farts smell the best. Gibberish all - and no one remembers a word of it. Ever wonder why the only phrase to ever resonate out of all this was "stay the course"?

Do you want to "stay the course" in your life? To say "yes" is to validate your life choices. Say "no" and you'll have people looking at you funny. You really want that? I thought not. So everyone's gonna say "stay the course" - both the damned and the blessed - out of fear of his fellow man. Now there's an interesting commentary on our world.

We want to believe in this world of ours. There are those who look for the good in it and those who look for the bad - both are wrong. We only need the truth of it. That will save us. The beauty of truth is that it always gives a way to salvation. Am I "negative" to say the world lives a lie? If we truly are on the wrong course, then I have been positive in my faith that there is another way to live. And if we are on the wrong course and I say otherwise, how vile those words are!
So you want a solution to Iraq? Here it is: honor the truth. Truth is we were wrong to invade, we fucked up and we're the bad guys in this scenario. Seems counterintuitive to admit that as a way to redemption, but can you feel the healing in it? Nothing galls me more than some asshole talking about us "saving face". As if that's where honor lies. And they are willing to let others suffer for the charade.

(Had I lived my other life, I would love to do a video of the current President committing seppuku. I would call it "Saving Face", with images of Iraqi violence flashing through his mind.)

I will finish with a quote from the Haiku Monk:

A man who refuses love will have himself for an enemy. And then he has brought war to the world.

One man's war can become a nation's, and then the world's.

The Idea Guys

"Get this! Get this! This shot is going to be genius! Bank it just past the side pocket, slice into the 4 ball which hits the 3 and just barely cuts the 9 in the corner pocket." On other tables in the pool hall, the sounds of balls dropping murmured in the background. But those were ordinary shots, not shots of genius. Those people had no idea of greatness. But the Idea Guys did.

"OK, OK," countered his friend. "How about this one? Go two rails, kick the 6 into the 3 and combo the 9 in the side pocket." The Idea Guys always laughed at the others with their chalked up cue sticks and powdered hands, struggling to make even the simplest of shots. They were above all that - they never picked up a cue - inventing shots their brethren "can not even conceptualize".

The last one of the trio surveyed the table intently but could find no combination of rails and ricochets to outdo his cohorts. Finally, he looked up and grinned. "I'll just lift up the table from this corner and roll the 9 ball in!" His companions looked at one another, mulled over the idea, and then quickly concluded with a high five. "Genius!"

Grabbing their coats on the way out, they talked excitedly of "Fight Club" being on TV that night. The man behind the counter eyed them contemptuously as his assistant poked him curiously. "But they didn't play the game. They just threw the balls on the table."

"Yeah, I know. They've been doing it for years. They never pick up a clue."

Road to Fucking Damascus

Like the ancient apostles, I continue to disperse pearls of wisdom through my letters. Eat your heart out, Paul. A song can sing but can a letter? So here's another fart of insight I passed on to the Homeless Guy:

"Living and dying while dancing to Billy Squire"

"One day happy, another looking to slit my wrists"...I understand that. The moron in me says, "If you were normal you would be happy!" But then I remember, is it normal to be happy when you're freaking homeless?? Some people HAVE killed themselves to avoid this predicament. You have shown an astounding strength of character. And trust me, I never hand out a free compliment.

But for me, there is the freedom: to think what I want, to say what I want, to be as I want. My freedom feeds me in a way that jobs kill me. People are jealous of my freedom and try to paint me with their sins, saying that my freedom is optional. Well, if that were true we'd all still be under the feudal system - or as I call it: the "futile" system. The joy of every breath I take is in knowing how many people it pisses off!

When Gandhi was queried on the very real possibility of his being shot, he replied, "Then they'll have my dead body." That's all the fuckers are going to get out of me too. Funny part is, they think that's enough, that it is "victory". But what can you say to someone who has yet to learn their lesson? Life’s a good thing. We keep finding that out every day.

A President Confesses

It seems O.J. started a trend with his confessional book. The following is an excerpt from the current President’s book: “If I was the greatest traitor in American history: How I’d done it.”

“I wanna! I wanna! I wanna!” My first words in office as I stomped the floor. Ah, those were the days! So what did I, your Great Leader, so dearly need? Lovely Iraq, of course! Iraq is like gold to me. It shines in my eyes and gets my palms all sweaty. Reminds me of prom night. I just gotta have her!      Forgive me while I indulge myself once more. It’s like a drug to me (no, not cocaine!). Just think of all that oil! Oceans of it! If I could only get my hands on it I would explode in ecstasy! A new dawn in America. Rivers and rivers of oil pouring in all because of little ol’ me! Mount Rushmore, make room for one more!      Today, there are people who want to ruin my dream. They’re called Realists. I hate them and God hates them. So let me recount to you how and why I went into Iraq; my need to penetrate her. I’m a humble man and it’s like me to shine a light on my glory, so I feel it’s truly in the best interests of God that I do this. And we all want to make God happy, don’t we?      It, like, totally sucked when first I was President! I was sooo sulking! I had this way cool army to play with and rad weapons to kick ass with and like no way to spank Iraqi butt with them. But I am a Godly god and all that time I spent up in my room I was prayin’ real hard to get what I wanted to make God happy. And then it happened: 911! Thank you, God!      First thing I did after I shit my pants was to call my daddy. “Get Mr. Cheney on the phone!” I barked. Already I was a changed man. I was a real life authority figure! So I says to Boss Cheney, “Mr. Cheney, what are you gonna do? Those terrorists are mean!”       “Well,” he says with his best Darth Vader grin, “this means the best thing possible: war!”      “Golly, Mr. Cheney, do you think we’ll win??”      “Of course we’ll win! We’re the God guys. Everything we do is good. We’re going to kick bad guy Saddam’s ass from here to the Alderaan System!”      “You mean we get to invade Iraq, Mr. Cheney?”      “The Empire must be protected.”      “Yeeehaw! I’m gonna ride Laura like a cowboy home from a three month cattle drive!”      So I ran back to my room, got on my bestest cowboy boots, told Laura she was gonna bark like a dog that nite! and ran back to daddy. That’s when he almost hit me with his light saber as I squealed back into the room.      “Careful, Mr. Cheney! That saber might be plastic but you can still poke an eye out with it!”      “That’s OK,” he corrected me. “It would only be your eye. I’ll have to take you hunting with me sometime.”      “You know what? I’ve been thinking! I been asking God real hard to get me in Iraq’s pants and then God makes it happen! I really wasn't just talking to myself all this time. You know what this means? I am on a mission from God…”      My voice trailed off at that moment as I realized just how holy I am. I’m on a mission from God, just like the Blues Brothers. No one can critical me now. I’ll be a flashlight in the world and plant my seed in the Middle East to forever bear my fruit of the loom. I am the new Moses.      I wish I could just stay in that moment forever, that time when God’s word and my word became a holy trinity. I am His instrument to fix the world. It is my duty to grab all power so I can further God’s will. Even my initials, G.W., stand for God’s Will. Destiny. I’ve heard about it so many times and now I finally got one!      Darth Cheney (he said that’s what I was supposed to call him now), decided to make up all the plans because he said he was “good at fucking people over.” Saddam’s gonna get it now! We watched WWII movies all night and saw how people was screaming and yelling and loving us Americans. “That’s going to be us,” smirked Darth knowingly. Then we watched Bambi and high-fived when the good guy hunter hit his mark.      I don’t keep my brain on me, it’s another person. Me and Darth call him Emperor Rove because he’s so wizardy and has special powers to know things. Can I pick ‘em or what! The Emperor told us how he was gonna keep the people scared proper so they would follow me no matter what. He said he could turn real live people into sheep; that a whole third of them was sheeps already, another half we could keep in line with his hysterical trance and the rest we would have to kill because they was traitors.      And, wow, was my brain smart! Everyone started doing my bidding, I was strutting like a Jedi! I was shocked and awed! This only happened because I was doing God’s work. My Brain said God would make people love me and look up to me. I remember I went jogging one day with this soldier who loved me even though I got his legs blowed off and there he was trying to keep up with his fake ones. Was all I could do to keep from laughing!      I love my toy soldiers. They’re just like those little plastic army men, only better. These guys really shoot! They’re badass! I like to hang with my toy men and talk about what badasses we are. They love me and want to die for me and God. I can’t tell you what a great feeling it is when people die for you. It really gets me “hott”!      Greed is like a religion to me. God gives money to all us good guys. That’s why people who got lots of money like me the most. But you gotta take care of the dollar if you want God to love you! Me and the Emperor and Darth Cheney and Boba Fett Rumsfeld all got together on how to make money off this. Darth and the Emperor said how we can take all that oil and use it to pay the whole cost for the war! Genius! And then just like the great bounty hunter Boba Fett, good ol’ Rummy says he can do the war real cheap because we got the Death Star and God on our side and we can blow up like a hundred Iraqi families with just one bomb, so all our troops will be AOK. Are we God’s chosen or what!!      The real cool thing about being on a mission from God is that then everything you do is blessed. My Brain told me how we got to tell people “special things” to make the war happen. He, like, knows everything and told how this super race of men did it before. From Super Duper Double Top Secret Paper #8,294,937:      "Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."      I was like, wow, we can do that easy! Then I got all bummed because I remembered icky Saddam wasn’t the one who attacked us. But Mr. Patriot Darth Cheney solved all that. He told me how this other guiding soul did it and he was one of the great liars of all time. It goes like this:      "All this was inspired by the principle - which is quite true in itself - that in the Big Lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the Big Lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying."      I was kinda scared reading all that (what the heck does 'strata' mean anyway??). I mean, would it really work, is people that dumb? Great Cheney just cackled when I asked him that. He said, “The Emperor is your brain but I’m your balls.” That’s when I was positively hopefuller we would pull off one of the best frauds ever for God!       (Gossip alert! When Emperor Brain found out Boss Cheney was my balls he got real mad 'cause he wanted to be my balls and said we had to start calling him Rove the Barbarian.)      You know the Glorious rest. Like Moses I led my country to the promised land. I stand tall as others run away because my will must be done. We the righteous must suffer the slings and arrows of the blind, the greedy, the arrogants, the cowards, the liars, the hypocriticals, the self-deluders, the misguiders and the ungodly. Thank God I’m not one of them! There is only one thing that can cause my and God’s plan to fail: that’s quitting (remember that if things stayed screwed up). I’m not a cutter and runner! I’m a faithful soldier of the word, and the word is: “I is your god.” P.S. Some non-believers wanted me to edit this most holy of documents. I rebuked them mightily and asked, “Would you have me edit the Torah too?” I had one of my best smirks ever after that one!

Everyone asks where's the proof this President lied about his reasons for going to war. My reply: where's the proof he didn't?

Shine Your Own Mirror

Another beer;
Another chip;
Another day
Gone to shit.

Truth is a funny thing. Ask someone what "the Truth" is and they will (unwittingly) tell you their truth. Ask someone the truth of them and they give you the truth they wish you to believe. Example:

Man to married woman: "What do you think of men?"
Woman: "Men are uncommunicative, immature and fragile."
Man: "So tell me about your husband."
Woman: "Oh, he's wonderful. Just perfect!"

It is written that Satan is trying to do all the damage he can because "his window is short". (actually, his term ends in two years) These Short Timers are people who know "the Truth" but then twist it. A man tells me he "needs no water!" And, twit that I am, I awe him as a god, he needs no water like I do. The illusion of his "power" is in having chosen death. In time his folly is revealed, but how many die before then in following him?

Heroes and cowards,
Scarred by tears of battles that
Rape the souls of men.
I had an unspeakable dream of a world run amok with greed and power. Warlords buried people alive. Why? Because they lived in a world that believed in power. And those who gave them such power never believed it would be used against them, that they were safe in choosing death for others. But it's the belief in illusion that's fatal. Just give it time.

As I speak, our war machine is crushing skulls in another land. One day, it will turn on us. It needs no water. This is just one example among many. I read of a Short Timer who claims religion is God (which is certainly fatal), who said our desecration of the environment was OK because God would fix it. Somewhere Satan laughs - for a short time.

"From the fruit of his lips
A man enjoys good things;
But the unfaithful
Have a craving for violence."
- Proverbs 13:2
Assuming this is true, you can certainly see why so many of those who espouse violence so crave to be labeled "faithful". But with our lips we can change the world. No Short Timer wants to be exposed as the fraud he is! Truth will set us free. To choose otherwise is to lose. The price of speaking out will be high. But the reward is far greater.

Since the dawn of recorded history, man has run from the truth - as if that were possible. But the truth is life is a dream gifted and we are little specks of God scattered across the universe to be portals of Light and Joy. In the end, that can be our only fate - but not for those who run from it.

I'm Dying Quite Well, Thank You

Here's a note I passed on to the Homeless Guy. It sums up a lot of what I tried to say here:

It always shocks people when I say the homeless serve an extremely valuable purpose to society. They don't want to hear this because of their guilt; because most people who killed Jesus never laid a finger on him. But the homeless are the barometer of a society's soul. No society can achieve perfection and how it treats its less fortunate determines its fate. But a society that has declared itself good and holy – and boy, do we sure do that! – turns its back on those in need, calling them deserving of such harm. Those outside of society are the ones most easily able to see it clearly and their words are to be cherished.

This argument of course is too esoteric for most people (although they have an instinctive fear of the homeless' point of view) so I prefer the simplicity of the Terminator when dealing with my critics: "Fuck you, asshole." (monotone with Belgian accent)

His response was: "Hear! Hear!"


I can no longer sleep at night. My facade is crumbling. Like the combat soldier of WWII, I'm developing the "2,000 yard stare". Such is life in the concentration camp of capitalism. How many vain screams for help were heard at Auschwitz? How many pleas to God unanswered? How many Nazis would have understood if their victims had told them one day they would share the same fate?

I know how it is. We are not going to stop until this planet is unlivable. Then we'll say, "Now I admit we were wrong”. I can not reconcile that. I am calm now but there are times when my hate burns against you. And when your turn comes and the screams of a horrific fate reach my ears, I shall not be moved. It’s just God taking out the trash.

Goodbye Cruel World

I’m shutting her down. I’m exhausted. My heart hurts. The daily toll of survival is more than I can handle. Fuckers. Don’t worry, world, you don’t need me. Everything you’re doing is just fine. Nothing bad will happen. The trick is not to look. Just as you didn’t see 9/11 coming nor will you see anything else. Good luck in the afterlife. Remember, fooling others (or yourself) won’t save you from God.

Haiku Highway to Hell

Troubled times run deep,
Precarious ships perched on
Waves of violence.

Spirit wars kill souls;
The pure heart mocked and hunted;
Witness signs of hell.

Lying rage disease;
Viral bullets piercing skin;
War machine glory.

Barbarian rule;
Tortured minds running amok;
God’s word perverted.

Guns prod unwilling;
Machete men wanting more;
Die now, die later.

Illusion breeds fire;
Stringing up the innocent;
Criminal crowned king.

Cruel beat pounds faster;
Billions bent in slaving toil;
Their god has no eyes.

Talking zombies stare;
As pain dies, so does the dream;
Preach love is the way.

Oasis poisoned;
Deserts devour watered lands;
The last flower dies.

Branches of love cry,
“What is the point of living?”
Pruning hour draws nigh.

Flower Power wins;
Swords and soldiers nevermore;
Dead Men Walking die.

Pssst! I Got Their Playbook!

Sometimes there's nothing scarier than a janitor with a brain. He'll pick you apart and expose you from the inside. The problem with professional liars is they always have a blind spot: they think lying makes them smart. It's an inescapable Achilles heel. Using this blind spot ("Yessah, boss! You's is real smart, boss! Can I's clean yo trash?"), I was able to infiltrate the offices of our country's greatest enemy. Yup, they're pretty dumb at the White House.

No one wants to think bad things of their Daddy-President. But the truth shall set us - and him - free. My job was to find the proof of prevarication. Most people would not know of its existence, but Big Lie campaigns like this White House has instituted need a playbook, a way to keep all conspirators on the same page. Strangely enough I found it right out in the open, on the desk in the Oval Office. Spirits have been sagging around here lately so I guess they were using it for a come-to-Satan meeting for the troops.

As I started reading it I smirked and nodded my head as I recognized some of my very own tactics:

The primary rules are: never allow the public to cool off; never admit a fault or wrong; never concede that there may be some good in your enemy; never leave room for alternatives; never accept blame; concentrate on one enemy at a time and blame him for everything that goes wrong; people will believe a big lie sooner than a little one; and if you repeat it frequently enough people will sooner or later believe it.

The cover read: "Playbook for Pimping da People." I was absolutely giddy as I made my way out the building with the evidence. At last I could prove to the world what I had known for so long! These traitors would be exposed once and for all and the dark cloud of deception lifted. Remove the tumor and start the healing. But then I remembered: no one's interested in the truth. They just believe what they want. So I threw the playbook into the river and watched it float downstream. Anyone who wants to know the truth can know it already. No wonder they left it out...

America is Dead - Long Live America!

As Ceasar triumphantly paraded through the streets of Rome, the crowds cheered wildly. I wonder who among them knew they cheered their own death? For this was the beginning of the end, when the Romans turned their backs on the democratic principles that had made them mighty. In America today, we too believe we are invincible. It is our death warrant.

If a see a man on the road to Damascus, then I say, "He is on the road to Damascus." It does not mean he is in Damascus, but simply on that path. What is the point of saying he is on the road to elsewhere? People have said I am doom and gloom in my outlook, but again, why say something other than what I see? We are on the path to self destruction. My saying this is the only gift I have to offer.

Tonight I saw a film on war profiteering in Iraq. I saw the sobbing families as they bitterly spoke how corporations had put profits before the lives of their loved ones. Well, honey, welcome to America, where if you ain't a capitalist, you're a communist. Where are the tears for the homeless who die from the cold, or the uninsured refused medical care or the children of the houseless? Profits are put before people everyday. The mistake is in falsely calling ourselves good.

One of the surviving men spoke of his trusting the corporation because it was a "Fortune 500 company." How he wanted to "do good" and "serve his country". But the wrongness of this war of greed and the wrongness of profits over people is out there for us to see every day. See it and survive. See yourself as love - that's your fucking job.

What is the world but a collection of souls? And thus, in the end, our souls determine our fate. Souls are saved with love. And what have we built on love? So kiss your ass goodbye. It didn't have to be this way.

(Stings like a bitch, don't it.)

The Dichotomy of Me

The waiting teacup
Fearing the touch of the tea
Never gets its fill.
A teacup that never fulfills its purpose...

So what am I blogging for? My words are empty. I'm jacking off on Mars. A dying man rails against the world because it is...dying. Topic of the day is a senator man trying to boink teenage boys. I can say nothing. I'm morally bankrupt myself. I see the feeding herds rush to devour the scandal, never once stopping to think of fixing themselves.

There are two things you can do in life: what God put you here to do - or not. I cannot believe things were meant to be so wrong for me. And yet they are. There's an old skit I saw of a poetic man who prostituted his talents merely to beg for money. "May I borrow four pound and two?" A Robert Frost who didn't take the road less traveled. A life misdirected.

I want to sing my song to the world and heal it. I also want the world to die, die, die. I don't fear people finding out I hate this world. They hate it too. I fear them finding out I've lost everything: my heart, my soul, my life, my dreams and my Debby - your worst nightmare come true. And that yet in all this I still find moments of happiness in life. Life has more to offer than you think.

After all, I did get to meet Debby, and that girl could sing!

Seeping mystery;
Pitiless time is God's thief-
Wow, helluva moon!

Where's Debby?

Oh, dear Jesus, my wife is married to another man because I was not a man. I can't live without Debby. How can this be? I'm needing her and needing her and she doesn't come. One word, Debby. Just one word would change my life. I have humiliated myself, walking around covered in piss. Part of me seeks that. In shame I run from her, in need I run to her.

There's a story in Japan of a farmer's wife taken by bandits. She is used by them. When the husband sneaks in to the bandit's camp with attacking samurai, she sees him. The husband is ripped in two as he looks upon her surrounded by all the sleeping men. Should he pick honor or life? For her, the answer is simple. She runs back into the burning hut and ends her life of shame. Tragedy all around. Unlike me, they had committed no sin. But I know the feelings of both.

In anger I see her as Pharaoh's wife; the whore of Babylon. When it fades, I see her as just another lost soul trying to survive in this world. I can't want to live and not want her. As I rinse away the horrors of the day it all comes back to me at night. This is unbearable. I've got to rest. When I free myself from my web of lies, when I can finally stop running and find some peace, the first question always asked is: Where's Debby?

Lord Byron, The Greatness is Gone

Byron Nelson, one of the legends in the sport of golf has passed away. But to focus on just his golf game is to get only part of the story. Memorial after memorial about him speaks of what a great person he was and an ambassador for golf. Byron was not one of those people who was kind and nice to others because he'd gotten all the things he'd wanted but turned foul when things went against him. He had a genuine aura of goodness that made all who came in contact with him feel good also.

Had I not lived here I probably would have never picked up on the vibe of his greatness. I never met the man but I feel his loss. To have a kind word for everyone I meet is also a goal of mine. I truly wish - oh wait a sec, this asshole is bothering me...Is that right, pal? Well, you don't smell so great yourself, motherfucker!...Up yours, too, prick. Fuck I hate people! - anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I consider Lord Byron a role model for me and hope to one day bring the same sort of good feeling to the world he did.

Making Money Miserable

I understand about change. The fear of it, the fear of its costs, the fear that somehow things may never be good again. It's a false fear but you can't know that unless you face it. And a fear not faced becomes the Ruler of your life - and it's to that which rules you to which all your prayers are directed. Funny part is, not changing often brings all the calamities feared in the first place.


The longer you go not facing a needed change, the more absurd your life becomes (trust me on this one). In the Sixties we broached the idea of actual change - and have been running away from it ever since. Growing up isn't lethal - it just seems that way until you do it. But we have crawled back into our shells and decried "nothing must change", thus bringing us the ever growing absurdity of this: Today, our lives center around not making us happy but making money happy.

We know it's a false god - it's our dirty little secret. But it's so much fun pretending it's real, Mommy! "I made money happy today. I am a good person." We have whole industries built on this fabrication: banking, insurance, stockbrokers, risk arbitrage, etc. - all serve no real purpose! But no one wants to say the emperor has no clothes - that would mean (gasp!) change.


People say money is needed to make a system work. Hell, the only reason money was invented was so ugly guys could get laid! "If I can't buy nooky what am I gonna do!" I gotta admit, that one's got me wavering a bit. (Chants to self, "Change won't kill me, change wont kill me.") But let's take a closer look at what good our naked emperor is truly doing:

"You know, we could save our environment but it doesn't make the money god happy. So it must be OK not to." Good thinking that.

A man with a badge and a gun says: "I don't want to do this but you have to leave your house. You're not making money happy." That's the thing about money, it makes you do things against your soul.

And even if you are happy: "I'm sad to say this, but you have to stop working now. It doesn't make money happy." Love your job? Good at it? Being productive? Means nothing. Only thing that counts is if money is OK, not you. You go home now and die - oh wait, we're going to take your home from you too.

"Put him in jail, Barney. He's got no money on him and you know we can't have that." "You're right, Andy, we've got to make the money god happy."

Another starving child dies - by our choice.


"The times they are a-changin'." Even if we aren't.

The amount of human suffering we've allowed is incalculable. How much blood is upon our hands? Regardless, the time of this concept has passed. We decreed that life must be made insufferable for those who do not serve money and yet in the end our lives have been made insufferable because we do. Funny that. I think things will sort themselves out just fine without money. Let's have a little more faith in our Maker. We haven't given Him a chance yet.

Harry-san and the Jisei of a Crazy Gaijin

Since I live in a "twilight world", a place between life and death where neither dreams nor doubts have meaning, I may as well wish for the impossible as well as the possible. I have a picture of my retirement: to at long last return to my beloved Japans and live out my days as a crazy gaijin wandering the countryside. A floating world to explore at the merest whim, or to spend a day in quiet meditation facing the mountain, a teacup sitting beside me. The timeless breeze blowing upon my face rinsing the sins of a lifetime away.

Today, I had an Incident. A piece of wire punctured my leg. At first I tried to pursuade myself it was a pine needle but I knew. I flashed back to high school where I read in class the part of a man who died of a shaving cut. What a cheap death, I thought. But how keen am I on staying here anyway? So I thought to myself: to tetanus or not to tetanus? I chose life.

No small thing this. Find a clinic, wait for God knows how long, face the fear of a shot and the pain of payment. Ugh. Part of me was defiant. "I shouldn't have to take this!" By virtue of my homelessness, I argued, I should not have to endure any more than I already am. In my overthinking way I start to wonder: what does this mean? I settled only on a grudging resignation.

"I have my books and my poetry to protect me."
-Paul Simon

This same day I had bought a book of Japanese death poems (jisei) at my haven Barnes and Nobles. A death poem was often written by monks, poets, samurai and nobles as a way to sum up life in its final moments. (Did I mention that in my retirement I wished to be a world class haiku poet?) And in my book I took comfort in this:

Someone asked, "When one is confronted with disaster, how can one avoid it?"
[Famous Zen monk] Joshu said, "Thats it!"
(The disaster lies only in the conciousness of "disaster". When you are in a given situation but do not define it, it is not "good" or "bad"; you simply react according to the circumstances.)

In other words: shit happens. I think Zen monks would appreciate the simplicity of that phrase. I, too, am a believer in Zen, that less is more. In the making of "Jaws", they found the shark became scarier the less it was directly shown as opposed to playing the shark music with the camera rushing along the water. The fear was in the imagining.

In this vein I composed my own haiku to hopefully snatch moments in time. On these things did I ponder: the dichotomy of the nightmare made of this dream world, the passing of our existence, the Zen of less is more and finally my jisei.

The noon sun grows high,
Flowers straining to reach it;
Swords glint before me.

The serene pebble
Lies at the base of the tree.
Night's shadow arrives.

Had I said nothing
As the flowers bloomed to life,
I'd have said the same.

Silent damages;
Lost in the forest of life
Hidden light burns bright.

Religion of the Year Contest

I saw today where the Pope is apologizing, err, explaining his remarks once again concerning the Muslim religion. In a carefully choreographed scene by his papal handlers, his Holiness met with Muslim "ambassadors". The Pope raised his hand and gamely blurted out his best "High five!" The Muslim entourage exchanged confused glances among themselves, then an also confused Pope finished his script with: "I'm down with you, homie." Relations are reported to have soured.

Now, I was thinking, we just gots to get these folks talkin' ag'in. With my head leaning back against a tree on a beautiful, beautiful day, the wheels inside my furrowed brow were just spinning away and...nothing. And then...and then the good Lord Hisself spoke to me! (considering all the other assholes He's allegedly been talking to, why not me) Hallelujah! It's so clear an atheist could see it: Month Python's 127th Annual Twit of the Year Contest.

My first thought on bringing these two sides together was simple: an Islamic Pope. Best of both worlds, neh? But with the message from On High, I realized tain't nobody gonna be happy wit dat! This needs to be a winner take all situation. And that can mean only one thing: cage match! Here's the rules: every religion, pick your Pope and bring it on, baby! After that, all ya gotta do is win!

We all know the Bible stories: don't matter how big or strong you are, if God wants your ass to win, you'll win! And whichever religion wins has their creed declared Religion of the Year. Lord help us if the Amish are victorious. But can you just imagine the enormity of the event?? World Cup, eat your heart out! Vegas, line up your holy handicappers! Peace be on earth, we have finally decided who is most holy!

Random Thoughts of a Sobering Mind

"What rock did he crawl out from under?"

I'm a world traveler, a jet setter. I'm comfortable there. It's home.

"He's a strange one. A real piece of work, that."

"Does anybody really know that guy?"

I've forgotten me, I've forgotten me...

Is there a way out?

Has anyone else cheated themselves like I have?

If I show their crimes, no one will listen. If I show my crimes, no one will hear. But if I show life as it truly is, then all crimes will be revealed. That's when they come to kill you.

How can I explain not being stupid anymore? I've built whole identities around it.

Portrait of the Artist as a Fraud

I've got these really, really bad vibes...

No one's coming to help you. No one can now.

Sometimes you just look around and say, "Oh my God, what have I done?"

Everything I've built on this identity, I would have to give up. But I can't deny the real one. Life must progress.

Man, am I tired...

I'm Dead Man Walking regardless. All this means nothing

I Won Blog of the Day Award

There'll be no living with me now!

I'm da Man!

A Siren's Call

(Help! I can't get laid!)
The speaker's arms were flailing in Passion, fists clenched in furious Conviction. His Authority was unassailable, No Doubt visible in his words. This is a man who Knows Things, who explored Life and brought forth Answers. Good News was his song and Good Things his bribe:

"Es ist unser Wille, den dieser Staat für eine tausend Jahre ausdauern wird. Wir freuen uns zu wissen, dass die Zukunft unser völlig ist!"

In the crowd sat two women, one nudging the other. "I don't know what he's saying, but I like the way he says it."

"Indeed!" concurred her friend. "No one so passionate could be so wrong. It's exciting to listen to!"

"Have you seen those cartoons that make fun of him? Laughing at him for being such a loser?"

"Yes, I have. Very funny!"

"Oh, my! Look at the time. We better hurry to get in our votes for him."

"Indeed! I don't want to be called irresponsible."