It’s not everyday that I get to feel how I felt today reading this letter. It’s not everyday that I get to feel and know that an action I took to help someone would inadvertently help another person just a few months later in the same way. I can only hope that this Israeli adventurer soon finds herself in a situation where she can repay the gesture to someone else. Pay it forward. We miss you JoMarie.
10 days ago I accompanied Aimee and Kellen to a weekly drum circle that occurs on the beach in the town that I live in. Kellen had been the previous few weeks, and I had been busy on Thursday’s since returning from my summer travels, so I was excited to finally get to experience it. I won’t spend many words describing the drum circle, as it was a drum circle, and I feel like that is self-explanatory. The drumming was great. The company was great. The weather was great. A great time was had.
While there, I met a chef who had just finished her second day of work at the nicest restaurant in my town. It should be said that my town is small but saturated with people, and considering it’s size, it has many food establishments. Over 100 food establishments for a town of 30,000 in 6.5 square miles. That’s quite a bit, especially compared to the last small town I lived in which had around 15 food establishments for a town of 10,000 people. She had had a good second day, all things considered, no complaints. She had been on the island for just over a month. She had been camping on the beaches of Oahu for most of the time she’d been here. She was a chef at the nicest restaurant in one of the nicest towns on the island and she was homeless.
Needless to say she’s been staying in my ample-sized house since that night, on some nights accompanied by her friend/travel-companion/co-chef as well. Why did 1 minimalist man with 1 dog buy a 4 bedroom/2 bathroom house last September? Because if you have room, you will find things to fill it. If you have an aversion to ’stuff’ then you are left to fill it with little else but people. A year ago I lived alone, 1 of 1 (and Maxine), in an attempt to distance myself from everyone and much of what I knew. Today I find myself 1 of 5 (and Maxine), full of great food and exhausted from good times and the energy of great people. I’ve got so much to give.
There is no after-life where I will be rewarded by good deeds in the here-and-now. There is no tax benefit to allowing dream-chasing transients to live with you under your roof. There is no call from a long-dead prophet that I feel the need to answer (or even consider). There is however the guilt of knowing that you didn’t do something when you could. There is that nagging voice that whispers to you in the middle of your sleepless nights that the terrible world in which you live could be so much less terrible if everyone put their words into action. There is the truth that you get what you put out. Be generous in ways you can, put out your heart, and you just might get one back. If not, coconut curry risotto with sauteed tofu/eggplant/sweet potatoes/asparagus is a close second.
It’s Saturday. A week ago today I was out on the town (imagine that), and inevitably ended up at a local bar where the bands that play are always worth the price of admission (at least on the weekends that I’ve been). Last week I was sitting on a stool watching a local ska band play to a descent crowd when a fight broke out only a few feet in front of me. As the story usually goes, a military guy and a local guy got into an argument over something trivial (like a woman) and in this instance, as the local guy was walking away, one of his entourage walked up and punched the military guy in the face. He fell to the ground, and was out cold.
A short kerfuffle followed which resulted in the bar closing early, everyone being made to leave, and the paramedics carrying the military guy out on a stretcher. So much fun. As I prepare for the possibility of going out and ending up at the same bar again, as well as the possibility that I may be witness to yet another fight, I can’t help but wonder why? I’m not a stranger to fighting, the appeal, the urge, or even the ‘need’. I have UFC greatest hits DVDs in my collection (old school, before all the dumb rules), I wrestled back in the day, I understand to an extent. We are animals, and it is in our biology to want to fight for territory, resources, and most importantly mates.
But there is a time and a place. We are so fond of distancing ourselves from the rest of the animal kingdom (some of us to the degree that we no longer consider ourselves animals but as something designed differently from the rest, try not to laugh), and yet still can’t have the consciousness to not fight at an establishment where others are enjoying music and each others company. What’s up with that? Haters stay home tonight, or I’ll kick the shit out of you cause I’m in the mood for a fight.
Today the mail-woman came late. Normally it’s a mail-man named Wayne, but today a woman delivered the mail. That’s probably why it was late. She did come bearing gifts however, the treasure of a package you see above.
It was a surprise. Not because I didn’t know it was coming or what was in it, but becasue I didn’t know it’d be arriving today. It was sent from my dearest friend Nicole. You see, Nicole has caught the ‘my life could be even more amazing than it currently is’ bug over the last year or two and has decided to leave NYC behind her and travel the world for a while. She will work on her knowledge of languages, her love of people, and finding herself. I don’t know why she would want to do that last part, cause I’ve found her and she’s not so great, but I guess it’s something she has to figure out for herself.
One of the great things about Nicole is that she is my friend, and cares about me and my love for music. This knowledge coupled with her need to minimize her worldly possessions (storage is a hassle/drain-on-money), and her enjoyment from purging her life of excess (something we share), has made for Christmas in March for me.
See in those boxes is a very nice set of speakers, something which I am lacking in my life. Believe it or not over the last year and a half I’ve been listening to music (my lifeblood) through the speakers on my MacBook or through headphones. It’s almost unfathomable for me to consider now that I have opened up this package and plugged those bad boys in, but I guess I took deferred gratification to a whole new (unreasonable) level in which it serves to hurt instead of help me. Lesson learned.
The purpose of this post is not for you to be happy for me or my ears, or to be excited for Nicole and her conquests/generosity, but to inspire you to give gifts. Don’t go out and buy anything, and don’t think too hard. Look around your apartment/house/beach-hut and find something that fits these three criteria:
1) You don’t really need it (almost everything fits this one).
2) You know someone who needs it (or at least thinks they do, or even better doesn’t know that they do).
3) Fits in a box.
Grab it, wrap it up, and mail it to them. You can tell them before hand, or check with them first if you must. It can be a loan for a month, an annual lease, or a diamond that will last forever. But it’s a great way to get rid of some of your excess, reduce the clutter, make a friend pleasantly surprised, or hate you for sending them more shit.
There are two rules you must follow though. One is post a comment about it here (or atleast send me a txt/IM/email to let me know you did this), and two, you may not send anything to me. If you are reading this, and not leaving your current location for a worldwide adventure anytime soon, expect a package in the mail.
For those of you who have poked/prodded/inquired/nudged/annoyed/reminded me that I haven’t posted a blog post over the last week, congratulations, you fail. What you just experienced was ‘the marshmallow experiment’ for adults in the age of connectivity (and for addicts of this blog), and you failed said deferred gratification test. You needed it, you needed it now, and you whined about it when you didn’t get it. Feel good about yourselves, I dare you.
Now that you feel bad about your failure, feel good about the gratifying feeling you are experiencing reading a new post on this here blog after a week of silence. Even though it is tainted with the rotten stench of your inability to be patient (in the name of enjoying the moment so much more), it still feels good doesn’t it? Consider this a lesson for next time. And no, I don’t get off on being withholding (if that’s what you are thinking).
A fraction of a part of me feels bad for making you wait, and then even more so for making you feel bad about your inability to wait, so here are some things to get psyched about (most are posts that are already half-written): under garments, young jeezy, music festivals, heartbreakers, summer world tour part deux, bar fights, taxes, ghost face killers, books (the reading of, and the writing of), and pantlessness of course (forever and always).
Where do I begin? This could be one of those very long posts where I explain to you how much you are undeserving of my friend as a lover, or how every other time I talk to your girlfriend I have to end the conversation an hour or two early because I’m so sick of hearing her complain about you. Yeah, that’s right, you. You are inadequate. You are the Plan B that is only the Plan B until the Plan A comes along. If Plan A never comes along, then you pretty much won the fucking lottery.
Here’s where you need to listen carefully. I could be Plan A. The only reason you have the girlfriend you do, is because I didn’t want to be Plan A. It should make sense to you, but since you are a Plan B, I’m going to use words that I know will make sense to you. These are words borrowed from a twelve year old who resided in downtown Ithaca, NY.
YO! Your girl could be mine, ya heard?
That being said, she isn’t. She has ‘chosen’ you, and she has ‘chosen’ to remain friends with me. This means that no matter how wonderful you think you are, no matter how wonderful you are told you are, and no matter how wonderful you actually are, I still offer her something. This is why we remain friends, and why I remain friends with many single/committed women. If you have gotten over that, then you and me are already friends (and that is something I am happy about). If she doesn’t think you can get over it, then you and me have never met (and we never will). Don’t get mad at me if we’ve never met, it speaks to her confidence in you, your insecurities, and your ability to grow. Yup I said it, ya heard?
To the Significant Others of my Male Friends
I know you are a keeper because you’re with one of my friends (I choose them wisely). Take your boyfriends phone and call me. I can usually be found under ‘Simon’ or ‘My Idol’. See above, I’m a Plan A.
Today, Amanda pointed me to an article about a man who made his own home-made prosthetic finger-tip with integrated USB storage. A pretty simple but impressive feat, and one that may leave many geeks a little more careless around sharp objects. I mean, how much more hardcore can you get than literally hacking your body so that you can hack your body?
Naturally I began to ponder what modifications I would make to myself if ever I decided that I was going to pursue the path of upgrades. I’ve thought about getting a tattoo before, but there is a difference between decorating what you already have, and modifying what you already have by adding onto or taking away. An even greater leap is when the modifications that are being added-on are things that are not naturally found on a human, like a USB stick.
A USB stick is neat, but it’s size is limited. They don’t make them that large in capacity yet, and they are easy to break/bend/damage/scrape the pins on because of their wafer-like construction. So if I were to become part cyborg (after all, a cyborg is nothing but the marriage of man and machine is it not?), what would my enhancement be? I tried to think of this in a real-life, right now environment and not some far off distant future, and I came up with this.
If and when my appendix were to become infected/burst, I would bring the largest available capacity solid state hard drive with me to the O.R., and have them fasten the drive where my appendix used to be. The power and USB cords would both be wired from the drive to my navel, which would be outfitted with a USB female and AC Adapter female port. It would be called the Appendrive.
Outfitted this way, I could bring my Appendrive with me wherever I went, backups of all my photos, music, videos, all my data with me at all times. It would even be burried with me. Also, why purchase an SSD drive for so much more money than a traditional HDD? Because if someone wants to copy the latest episode of Eastbound And Down from my Appendrive while I’m doing something, like swiveling around in my chair (it is, after all, the most physical exercise I get in any given day), I don’t want the hard drive scratching any of its platters. No one wants a return visit to the O.R. for an Appendrive crash.
In the spirit of trying something new, I’ll give this idea a shot. Bare (your soul) with me and let me know if you liked it.
This my excavation and today is kumran
Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed
I am not sure if it’s the changing of seasons, or the new incumbent in the Oval Office, or the economy, but every one’s got the bug. I think all the hype around ‘change’ this past year got everyone excited, and since ‘changing’ political climates isn’t something that is done overnight (or even over the course of a 4/8 year term), people are looking for immediate change more locally. I don’t mean in the grab a garbage bag and pick up trash around your neighborhood kind of way. I mean internally. I know I am. Everything that happens is from now on, and it can be as you want it to be.
I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time
It’s hard to find it when you knew it
When your money’s gone
And you’re drunk as hell
I keep meaning to put more into certain things in my life, and less into others. And there’s only so many times you can say or hear it until you want to vomit (think the Shania story in I Heart Huckabees), until you have no choice but to sick up on your shoes or to do it. Nothing was missing, it was so obvious all along, but it’s hard to find it when you knew it already. We often don’t see what’s right in front of us.
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks and you’re un-stacking your load
It’s funny how that works. Do we resist because it’s a commitment, or do we commit because we look forward to resisting? Another classic case of the chicken and the egg. Or the me and the shotgun that shot the rooster that the neighbors recently acquired, as it were. The only thing that has kept it alive this long is the fact that I’ve been up before it on most of the days it decides to create a ruckus.
I’ve twisting to the sun I needed to replace
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
All my love was down
In a frozen ground
I don’t care how warm you think 62 degrees is, you are wrong. I know its -10, or 29 and sleeting where you are, but I’m wearing two pairs of socks, pants, a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie and I cant feel my toes. I have no insulation, the hut walls are made from glorified cardboard, and the windows are small glass slats that don’t close fully. The wind picks up, and it feels like winter, like I’m standing in a frozen ground waiting to be set ablaze so that I can feel all ten of my toes once more.
There’s a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed
And he’s dangling my keys he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?
I love my friends because they know how to hate me. I realize that may sound weird, but that’s only because it should. They taunt me not to feel better about themselves, but so that I feel better about myself. Don’t try this tactic on your friends, because I’m fairly certain it only works on narcissists. Whatever could it be that makes this work? I’m not sure, but it does. I guess you can only feel so bad, or be made to feel so bad about something for so long or to a certain point before you sick up on your shoes, or do something different. Your reminder that you refuse to settle. Not because you say so, but because you live so.
On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you’re un-stacking your load
Then in a familiar place again, a place where you spend all your time, you find or see something new. Whether it be the downstairs mix-up at Greg’s place, a new friend on Twitter, or a foot-long tear in the sheets in your bed. As Shiraki would say, ‘the same, but different’.
This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me
This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization, they are old and tired ideas, and some played out like a Back Street Boys song in the 90’s. They are persistent however. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Fuck no. If it ain’t broke, break it, then build it back up better. I have so much to share, and so little need to share it. You have so many secrets, and they are safe with me.
It’s sad (not in the way that I actually feel sad about this kind of thing anymore, but sad in the trendy ‘think about it for 2 seconds’ sad, but that’s what good old fashioned New York cynicism will do to a person) that we still live in a country that is sussing out issues like this (discrimination, genderism, sexism, jerkism, etc.).
I’m glad in the last two weeks we have been actively becoming the country we pride ourselves on being. I don’t care how cool you say you are, it doesn’t change how cool you are. I also don’t care how great a country you say this is, it doesn’t change how short it falls of greatness at times.
It’s 2009 for those of you who haven’t been keeping track of time, and I am in Hawaii for those of you who haven’t been keeping track of space. After a few days of reflecting on what my first post of the new year should be about, I found it only appropriate that the post be centered around what it is that moved me to first begin this blog 81 posts ago. In the last few weeks, I’ve been up to a quite a lot, and it doesn’t look like things are going to change anytime in the near future. I’ve gotten to hop over to Maui twice, both times to visit some of the oldest (in terms of how long I’ve known them, not their ages) friends that I still keep in touch with. My brother came out for a visit, and left last night to head back to the misery that is winter time in Manhattan. My cousin came out for a visit, and left today to head back to her South Carolinian college experience. Great times were had by all.
What is just as exciting as all of that, is what is yet to come (some of which will be happening, or is already happening, in 2009). Just a taste:
It’s kind of amazing that so much good is happening at a time where life for so many is so shitty. I am certain you can chalk it up to ambition and perseverance. None of these things are going to just happen to these people, and none of these people are just sitting back watching these things happen to them. My friends get shit done, and my friends care about what shit they get done. That is why they are my friends. It is what draws me to them, and I’m guessing, them to me. So what do I have to offer them in 2009? It’s yet to be determined, but stay tuned, and stay pants-less.
P.S. If I forgot anything that any of you would like to share, or to have on my blogdar (borrowed from the gays and modified for the ‘blog’ frequency), please share in the comments. (I can say this with confidence because I know you wont).
