Christmas.

Horrible horrible poetry

Amid Christmas Cheer

I know, all I know
is one thing is clear.

Santa exists
and so do his Reindeer

I stand on wintery shelves and see my old tunes
I see old places and that quality that still echos the past

I remember remember the tokens of youth
And I long, I long to bring it back from the past...

The curtains are still staring at me....

So tired and lost
Oblivion and dust

Old things stare they have gained their share
Of wit and glinting intelligence

Panic panic attack
Panic panic attack

Helps nothing to put
What happened past back

There is no one answer
Only a thousand little ones

Piled in a corner
Forgotten and built like a lost civilization.

Once I was blind
Now I see

A thousand little truths
That belong to me.

Row, row, row your boat...

I have a lot to do. My tenure at the carpet cleaners is done. All that is left is to turn in my uniforms and pick up my last check.

Six years... almost to the day. I can't say how much this relieves me and makes me sad in a duplicitous sort of way. Sad to see it go, there were good times, and sad that I stayed so long; that I prolonged myself for such a long time. I never seem to know when to let go of something.

I gamed and had a good time tonight playing Firefly the RPG and my character has a groove... he may be a good choice to continue with.

I am a very different person from when I started at the Carpet cleaners. Six years ago I was six months out of Convergys and glad to be rid of the place. I was glad to be at the carpet cleaners because it was good solid work and the people were mostly happy with it when we were finished. Who could ask for more? Especially after the beige hell that was the 'Verge at it's worst. Watch Office Space and take what Peter deals with in his day to day office seriously for a moment and do the math. It wasn't always bad, and I met a lot of great people who matter even now in my life... especially that day where I got to run the cotton candy machine... and the one time at Damon's.

Right now my day job is over and I will attempt to get my studio rolling... scary shit; yet fascinating and thrilling... being off the map.

Off the map... one of my most favorite things. It implies a waking dream... where I get to choose my future... or at least directly influence it. This is life anyway. This is what it is to be awakened. Life is always awake, but we are usually not. Routine is a strength, but also a Great weakness. All those years ago reading Mage: The Ascension and thinking what it means to be awakened... and now I have some idea. The idea that WE are the music makers and that WE are the dreamers of the dreams. It is consciously deciding what we want ourselves to be... but also deeper than that... the though is just part of it not the completeness. There is no mere mind over matter - it's only when the mind, matter, and the self meet and push in the same direction with enough energy that the future is decided. Now imagine if everyone was like that? All those disparate voices working only for themselves... no sense of unity or the big picture... that explains something about the media and what it is to be an average human being. Maybe that's why we go to "sleep" and wait for someone with enough energy to inspire us? Why wisdom is so inscrutable? It's like someone talking to you while you sleep and only hearing half the conversation and it becomes part of the "dream"... so it's easy to loose what's real and what's not.

What am I becoming? What am I to be? What is "real" in my life and what is a "dream"? I am going to use this "off the map" session to attempt to find out...

A bunch of words I put together...

Onward to adventure
I do not wish to be a brother or a bother

I am going going forward
Never never going backward

A hope a chance
A personal montage in my heart

Saying saying what I think is wise
It makes me stop to wonder wonder what I realize

To see is sublime
To love the dark is truth

Yeh my heart burns forsooth.

I am going going forward
never never going backward

my world is strange
a mix of the old and there is only now

Hopeful yet wary
tired and fallen.

I must must sleep now
My bed is a'callin.

Jumping in place...

Touting about to and fro
Oh where oh where do I go?

Singing from tree to tree
looking for that missing part of me.

What once was lost now is found
Now Oh now I do not need to shop around

Good thing it runs on batteries... and a shovel.

*tong tong tong tong*

I really love to make up stuff. Ya know?

This is not a blog about gaming...

I have discovered this blog, which was intended to be a gaming blog, is not. Or rather it is, but in a deeper philosophical way as RPGs, which have been a part of my life for so long, actually help define my world view... all the strange ideas and viewpoints of playing different characters, settings and odd physics have fundamentally given me the tools to express the otherness that could very well be behind the world.

So I say gamer stuff, but sometimes I mean real stuff... the same way that only the truth is funny I guess.

So sorry I wont be telling you much about how to munchkin out your PC or advanced GM herding tactics, or how to avoid them when you run a game, because frankly, I don't think I have it in me any more.

I feel this big... raw spot and scars where my love of the game used to be. What do I gain from it? What does it solve in me that it hasn't already? I love stories and appreciate knowledge way more than I otherwise would have without it. I do not think gaming has any more to show me... I don't know... it's time to put away my toys and build some toys of my own I think. I think that's why I have been distant from my beloved hobby. No more passenger seat or spinning wheels - Time to dive... I said this already huh? Who knew?

An idea of heaven...

What is my idea of heaven?

I know it is not a place where angels fly and harps play.
It is not a place of perfection
It is not a place where there is only good.

Heaven is hope for the future and the idea of prosperity.
Heaven is to know there is a force that heals.
Heaven is not a perfect place.
Heaven is a place where the wrongs and utter darkness goes toward positive resolution.
Heaven is a place where one is tested and then tucked in at night.

Heaven is a place of perpetual endings and being found worthy of those endings.
Heaven is not a place. It only exists in potential of this exact and every moment.
Heaven is hugs and warm smiles.
Heaven is a place where the big picture is seen and recognized.
Heaven is knowing, but knowing it is yours too.

Heaven exists everywhere and nowhere
Heaven is an arrangement of facts and fictions colored with perception.
Heaven is at your door and every door always.

* Let me note that hell is also at every door step and every moment and all that, but we are talking about heaven here so it sounds all one sided ;P *

I want to state clearly this is not a religious "follow me to glory children" sort of thing... just some thoughts. I think this is true, but there are many paths to heaven - and hell so my flowered wall paper may be your madness... whatev's.

This blog about cleaning is not a blog about cleaning...

Cleaning... oh my God so much weight in regards to cleaning.

Right now I am attempting clean my room in my parents house. I want to clean the bath room, organize the kitchen, get the stuff out of the hallway and into the patio. It is cold and I am staying home to help my Dad today, I am edgy and frustrated. I want to take everything that we have never used and and never WILL use and do something dangerous with it, like blow it up, hit it with a hammer, or set it on fire.

There is so much history and past drama about cleaning yet none of it ever seems to get accomplished. I remember being a kid, and my mom flipping out about her dirty house, that when I was a teenager I would tell her that it didn't matter, that my friends didn't care what the house looked like, and I think over time she took it to heart...

I remember mom getting angry about the futility of it all, and it's true I am very much the same way... except I have seen how other people live. Their houses are not like this. I am a clutterific bastard, yet I can organize things according to a plan. In contrast I am a paragon of orderliness.

This house is falling apart and I hate to see it like this. The overall feel just contributes to the sense of futility witch leads to more frustration and depression. Everything is shabby and disorganized, and talking about it will just cause more drama and pain - when all that needs to be done is a dedicated use of elbow grease and a positive attitude.

There is my father however. My mom has always been naturally sad, and I think my dad has been too. Both of them seem to have bad opinions about themselves, and never had much to counter it? I don't know.

What I do know is that I had spent and still spend a good portion of my life having self doubt and bouts of epic despair about myself and the conditions of the world. Although I also learned over the years that it is impossible for the world to suck as bad as I imagine.

I know the world can be a really bad place, to tell you some of the awful shit I've seen over the years, and seeing inside people... but for fuck's sake sometimes shit goes RIGHT. That is one of the reasons I get so pissed at frustrated at my father. He could do something for himself here and get his head out of his ass... maybe I might learn something about that myself from him...

One thing I did learn from my dad is how to talk to people. He does have a natural charisma, as do my Uncles - I think it's a Curran thing. There is also a large amount of self doubt and... sadness? I can't quite place it.

All I know is that this issue seems so big and so epic that cleaning becomes difficult. I can sit here and clean superficial things, but the deep stuff will take a lot more to recover... and in the end I don't think it ever will get better... it's always been there. It wasn't as bad at this 20-30 years ago, but I think it's too far gone to ever be repaired. At least the cat is cute.

So, how can I get one of those home renovation shows to come and fix all the damage done over the years so we can be happy for once?

My Pants: A poem

My pants are cool
My pants envelope my leg's circumference

The have moved to Rhythm
To tones soft and sultry

They have frayed and ripped to
Frenzied beats and Frothing mouths

They Guide my feet through streets unknown.


My pants are faded raw
Dirty as Lust

Durable as John Fuckin' Wayne

They hold the Tools to reach my World
The Keys to my Art


My pants aren't right
If they don't go CLANK
Around my ankles when sweet Love is around
- or if it is time to sleep.

My pants are my companion
Scruffy, Used, and Loved
Whatever Pants they may be.


This bit of poetic excellence brought to you by
Chris Curran!! artist and ninja wordsmith!

A pretentious poem.

He said:

There is no sense in retention of pretension;
Holding back the ecstasy of self to please unnamed gods of vice.
There are others that would tell you, tell you different advice.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
It is all a lie.
There are others that would tell you, tell you without telling you why.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
Vein attempts to fool.
There are others that would tell you, tell you only to make you their tool.

There is no sense in retention of pretension,
To thine own self be true
There are others that would tell you, tell you this is a lie -
and that will only make you blue.

*Blaaargh* It's art!

Art. I want to talk about art. Specifically, my art. First some background.

My time at Kwik Dry is closing... slower than I had thought. It turns out the one coworker, who was the catalyst for my leaving, has been fired because of some poor choices that involve the law. Basically it's really dumb what happened, but now his life is infinitely more complicated. I can't say that I am not satisfied with the outcome as I saw it coming. I hate to say this, but it's like there is a serendipity or karma in the universe and I got to witness it first hand (the phrase "I am Jack's smirking revenge" comes to mind to quote Fight Club). I do wish he didn't have to have THIS happen though to get his.

Also I have the Life Insurance Check that should allow me to float for the next few months. I do not have to leave Kwik Dry right away, but I do not like the hours I am working. Up to ten hours a day is too long and too much to give. I am usually too tired to create after a full day. Also I have to sort out the intellectual properties of my own designs I made on their computers while off the clock. One way or another they will be mine officially. Another thing to consider about getting my art groove is that I have finally began to properly recover from my previous relationship and get the beginnings of a sense of self again.

Right now, it seems to be about organization and the focus I need to accomplish the goal of being artsy yet financially independent.

I am reluctant to go full tilt into shirts because I have reservations about the Vinyl printing process, and I am sketchy about silk screening. I would love to do digital printing, but the 10 grand you need to get the machine and not to mention the cost of inks is a setback. I love to design the shirts, and I could go to Cafe Press or some such, but I do not like their costs. I could design shirts for other websites, I would get paid, but I could not make the design myself any longer. I also do not like to deal with inventory and having surplus shirts that I have no idea when and where they will sell. I love to design shirts for other people, but again the Vinyl process is limited... in fact they are great for work shirts, but not the artistic designs me and mine would implement. Also until I sort things out at Kwik Dry (who owns Dyno Graphix) and my original designs, I am not certian what I can can't do and not cause drama for myself or someone else.

So shirts are awkward at the moment and have been. They do make money though... and I need that.

Then there is art.... I love to make shit up. I love it. I love to write characters and motivations. I love when I write something and then it makes sudden sense with other things I write and they seem to go together seamlessly. I also like to draw pictures with these particular stories so you can see and feel what I see and feel. This makes me think comics are the way to go because I really love to study story telling. I have never written a proper comic though and I want it to be extraordinary to whomever reads it. I want them to have as much fun and think as much as I would with it.... This is a bit daunting for me. The time and it would take to put out issues or a webcomic is what unsettles me. I do not have a proper income and I am usually so exhausted with my day job that thinking about it at the end of the day becomes an exercise in tedium. Also there is always the terror of not finishing what I start. I hate that when other people do it, and I especially hate it when I do it. The flip side of this is that I know I could write a great story, I have been studying everything about writing for a couple years now, and I am gifted with words -at least that's what I believe - so a really good gripping comic might be something worth doing. Also writing at least two graphic novels - Necromancy High School and FLLOYD the Mutant Coffee Table are on my bucket list. This I think is just a matter of commitment... and I need a good plan to make it happen. I also have issue with the actual nuts and bolts of comic design. I have several books on the subject, but it's like the difference between having a map of a place and actually being there.

Then there is Art art. I love to draw some very silly shit. I get all caught up in it and I love it when it's stupid. That's because I believe that humor is sacred and that not enough people take it seriously as a vehicle for enlightenment. Which really, by it's nature, I understand why. For me however it allows me and others to tell the truth about us and our world without causing a holy war, a revolution, murder, or a billion other awful things we do to each other when our "truths" clash. The trick is while I want to draw and paint really stupid things, I have this need to be taken seriously, and the only way I can think to do that is do art people would just respect. Things like portraits, fruit bowls, and lighthouses (at least here in Toledo!) etc. The only way I can think of to merge the two together is to render a really stupid subject (Robot monkeys fighting Dragon riding Ninjas) and compose, render and detail so deeply and beautifully that no one could question it's quality and integrity. The only problem I see is, frankly, I am not that good of a painter. I can draw and sketch like a badass from the deep, but acrylics are not my thing I guess. I can also render some awesome stuff digitally, and when combined with my pencils and inks it's looks pretty tight if I say so myself. Although I was pleased with my water color pencils... and I like Pastels alright. The only thing I worry about is the cost of the supplies or the cost of making prints if I work Digitally.

So this is one big Blaaargh of my opinions about art and what I think is working for me and holding me back. The right now issue is what will make me money, the middle term is what do I want to focus on, and the long term is... still up in the air. The hard part is finding how I work, although comic art seems to be my strong point right at the moment. I will focus on that for now.

Now if I can just focus and stop playing that goddamn Bejeweled game!

Time to "Drive"

It is 1:08 in the morning on an early Tuesday. Fall is in full swing. I just finished being a Screamster and I made many friends. I am tired. Kwik Dry is ending this week and I will have to scramble to build the rest of my life.

This summer was so crazy! Between what was, for lack of a better term, an epic emotional breakdown, and just getting kicked in my metaphorical balls repeatedly. I sit here on the verge of a big empty space. It's like being on a ledge with a bungee cord I made myself and daring to jump.

I have quit Kwik Dry. I HAVE QUIT KWIK DRY! There is a big sense of: "Oh what the fuck have I done?!" because I do not have another job lined up, but I do have an insurance policy I cashed in that will last me a couple months. I have my studio for now, I have shirts to sell, I will have time to do my artwork, I can literally find ANY job and do it full time and still make more than I did at Kwik Dry. So in addition to "What have I done?!" there is this big beautiful sense of taking my fucking life back.

The day I quit there was that "tornado" storm that never really happened. I was working with my one co-worker who I am at odds with. The sirens went off at the Franklin Park mall and he flipped thinking we were going to die and wanted to go home. He called our office and they said not to worry and to do the job, the storm is far away. I did not know exactly what was going on so I I felt it best to hole up in the mall as opposed to getting pissed at what our bosses said and driving off "to go home" and then erratically going to the customer's house. I was calm through all this drama until he spilled my coffee by bumping up on a curb in the customer's neighborhood. The sky was dark and wind blew everywhere. It was then I lost my temper and said to either pick the mall or the customer's house (because it was 1220p and the job was at 1230p) to get somewhere where we are not in a van in a storm that could go very wrong. He started flipping out about how I was over reacting and afraid of the storm...

Let me say this. I never drove a car until I was twenty-nine. I have walked miles through ALL the weather North West Ohio can offer. I really DID walk five miles in the snow during a blizzard. I have been out in thunderstorms, blistering hot days, and some of the most beautiful weather situations I have ever seen. I knew this storm was nothing.. or at least I suspected - but with sirens going off, it's better to be safe than sorry.

So as I argued with him about his irrational stupidity (and he retorted about how I never listen and that HE is in charge), it occurred to me this was the third strike with this individual. There was an incident involving vacuum levels and an another incident where he pushed me in a customer's house (I did jump a shark that day on my own, but then he jumped a bigger shark...) I am glad the customer was not home when it happened. To this day I cannot believe that even happened, or that I never made him eat a steering wheel at a later point.

Third strike. While he's sitting there bitching about how I am the one over reacting I realize the song by Incubus - "Drive" has hit home in a very serious way. So while in the passenger seat of the van, I decided to quit. I had a plan...

In the customer's house, there was a simple job before us. Berber carpet and no furniture to be moved. As you probably know I am talkative. In this place, I was quiet, still, and resolved. While my co-worker was out in the van getting supplies I asked the lady for a garbage bag. I knew I would be walking later and I did not want to get my books wet (I had left my backpack at Cedar Point by accident). We completed the job and did well. We had a big gap and I knew we were going back to the mall.

In the mall after we separated I went to JC Penny's and bought a new laptop case to put my books in. It was pricier than I wanted, but durable and I was off the map anyway.

The time came to go to the next job which was three rooms - and I told him that I quit and I'm going for ice cream. I was going to tell my bosses after the ice cream (maybe before) that I am putting in my two weeks. My co-worker believed I was mad at our bosses, and I let him believe that because he is not someone I respect enough to tell him the truth. I know he would just get pissy in the mall and I don't need to deal with someone who is supposed to be "in charge" having a fit in public.

So on my way to Cold Stone to sort things out through pumpkin ice cream my big boss calls while I am in the bathroom. I explain to him the situation to a point and tell him I will talk later.

I eat my ice cream, which tastes like freedom - not exactly our forefathers-and-flag-waving-freedom, more like: "you are out of society and there is a no man's land before you so anything could happen sort of freedom." Which I actually enjoy in a sort of determined fatalistic way. Once you accept something as an answer, all the consequences -good and bad - are yours... which means now that that's sorted out you can plan from there. It's refreshing to take one's life into one's own hands sometimes.

After this ice cream of freedom, I walked to the office from the mall (about 7-8miles), met some lovely ladies at a gas station, the skies dark and light above me - dark, deep rain beginning to clear... and I discussed my future at a place where I worked for the past six years where they taught me so much... and why it's time for me to "Drive".

So.........

I want to say something poignant like "Remember, remember the fifth of November" and then go into a deep sociopolitical story based on a comic book by a madman. I want it deep. Deep and hard.

This, unfortunately, is not going to happen.

First it has been a long time since I wrote as my balance within myself has gotten closer to completion... still a way to go, but at least I feel more like myself.

I have been running amok as a Screamster for Cedar Point and still doing my day job, tending to the cat, traveling to shows and watching lots of Fullmetal Alchemist (after I finished Firefly and Dr. Who). I am very, very tired.

Recently I applied for a position at Buckeye Cable and it did not go through. I was - stricken with the need to reevaluate my plans and to organize my life. This was only last week. I was so angry too. I know for a fact without doubt that I am qualified for that position. I hope I wasn't passed by for being a Screamster as mentioned above... I told them I would gladly change up the sitch if it meant getting the job.

So I sit in my parent's house and this is not my home anymore... it's a place to sleep... wait no. I am reluctant to call it home. There are so many dark things here in the vibe and the atmosphere. I never noticed when I was a kid, but now they are full developed and rounded by the waters of life and time. The curtains still stare at me and witness my youth and my future. Shrubbery has helped greatly to fight against the darkness even though he is prone to biting one's face.

This past weekend I went to Con on the Cob and had a blast! I met so many new people and hung with some regulars! I got so drunk that I stayed up all night and it was wonderful! Alright the next morning wasn't, but it had not been done in so long that I don't remember the last time it happened. SO, I call it good! Lots of good people and silly fun had. Played a monkey gunslinger in an SVG game. They enjoyed the shirts and bandannas I made and all was well!

So yes that's what's been up. I am me, but reevaluating priorities as we speak.

To Ass or Not to Ass! That is the question!

Well, well, well...

At this moment I am having a mini midnight of the soul. I have this big issue with the connectedness I feel with things. I have just watched "The Men Who Stare at Goats" and it got me thinking...

Right now I do not feel connected with much... it probably has everything to do with a lack of sleep I've had this week and running around and working and staying up late and being happy yet angsty at the same time.

Actually ya know every time I am happy, really on and positive, I have a period of coming down over the next day or two where I feel sad or not part of a grand scheme. I know it's bullshite, too! I know that my feelings of non connectedness are not real, that I am a part of the world and everything in it, and even if I feel lost that I am really not. I have friends, I have people who care, and I influence people all the time even though I do not always see the direct result of it.

Ever since before my breakup I have not felt connected to anything. I did months before the relationship started that I had a sense of destiny or fate or that I was progressing the way I should... that my universe was unfolding properly... but now I feel...

Clumsy and awkward... like it was in High School, or when I was 23. I don't feel like I am offering much of anything, but I think it is like sitting in the hospital when you are on the mend, you have stitches and you want to go and play and enjoy the day, but you have to sit there and the only thing that you can do is watch lame soaps until you mend completely.

Courage is going out and making an ass of yourself when you know you are making an ass of yourself, but doing it because it needs to be done to get the experience of being an ass so you aren't an ass when it's important not to be... the only problem is knowing when it's important not to be an ass and when it is. You can't always know, so you might as well make an ass of yourself anyway. In fact, to enjoy making an ass of yourself is best... because if people see you splashing around and having fun in "Lake You" and making a general ass of yourself, they tend to join in and have fun too.

It's all about fear being the Mind Killer to have a Dune reference. It's all about knowing fear intimately, but not letting it get to you. The only way I can think to beat that fear is being off the map so to speak. Do something completely crazy or something a shaman might term as a "Not-doing"... tie your shoes incorrectly, wear a bit of clothing you normally wouldn't, tie a string around your finger, risk making a pariah out of yourself... or just be an ass in a way you are not used to. I think this is why artsy types are so damn "weird".

I dont know anything, yet I potentially know everything because of this. It frustrates me actually. I never know when I am knowing and when I am not, so I have to have faith that I know enough to guide myself through the ass moments and the moments where I am not supposed to be an ass. Or are they one and the same, and it's all an illusion ("ass" vs "not ass") that boils down to a perspective... like a Rorschach test? This is an exponential quotient to the human condition in any case.. I know that.

I really have to create a mathematical equation for the human condition someday... I really can't wait to see the symbol for "faith+assery" compounded by the quotient for knowledge modified by genes and environment and proclivity for self-reflection multiplied by television, media, lies, and pain altered by relief, friendship, grace, and respect. All of it would result in some freaky little known greek (geek?) symbol for a giant metaphor that already exists in some role-playing game that is obscure and probably made and scrapped by Gary Gygax... which probably has too many charts and has a critical fumble table that includes: "Character trips over an invisible turtle that isn't there; bites own tongue off and swallows it. -5 to all rolls until he makes a constitution check at -10. If character fails, dies instantly from suffocation. If character succeeds, can never talk again."

I know this is possible because something very similar happened to my character in a an old Role-Master based "Lord of the Rings" game. Because, you know, it's just like in the books!

"My Virginity For a Lightsaber" and other bardic phrases!

Wow. What a week so far! I have been busy!

Right now, at this moment, I stay up too late before work tomorrow as I have been off for the past two days. In the back of my mind I suspect I am being "punished" for breaking a table at work.. a leg that was already split and was obviously so because of the glue on the outside of it's antique "table of my grandmother" goodness. Still I could have moved it differently I guess, and mayhap I should know better, but I have moved tables like that all the time with no issue. So who knows with the shadowy recesses of my boss' mind? What difference would it make anyway? I bought comics!

So far this has been a big week of closure I think. I had a bunch of experiences. There was a wedding that went nice, I had an odd incident in Ann Arbor, I went dancing last Thurs and was quite surprised by it's turnout. I have been caring for this kitten and things have blended. I was painting last night and researching writing techniques in order to hopefully put a proper story together for a possible comic book.

I was jamming to songs and they did not hurt to hear.. I found I may be able to play Phil Collins' "That's All" on the harmonica... it's sketchy but there. Not quite as good as my "Heart of Gold" by Neil Young though.

I have been in a better place as of late, but the Ann Arbor incident has me thinking... I have been questioning my artistic place lately. What is my art really about? I mean I draw, I paint, and I love this or that, but why? A long while ago I decried my art because I felt all I was doing was peddling illusions. Nothing real. Nothing solid to give anyone. Only half truths and nothing that could be proven.

Right now I would completely disagree with the validity of that statement. I was basically slapped in the face about how my philosophies and the stories and terms I use to illustrate them were only so much useless fluff in a world where "real" issues exist.

This has me thinking. What I say and what I know IS REAL. Sure I cloak it in dragons, ninjas, robot monkeys, and how awesome my pants are! You know why? A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down! Did you know that the tenants of the Jedi Code are IN FACT a good way to live? That if more people followed the philosophies and concepts of The Force that our world would not just be some commercialistic bucket of lame, but a place of genuine mutual respect and harmony? Think about it!

Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force.

I could have used the "revised" version of the Jedi Code where it says: "there is no emotion, there is peace etc...", but I feel it does not accurately relfect or respect the choices people make about life the universe and everything. It denys and does not acknowledge the existence of the Dark Side. The listed version says, no matter what, you have a choice!

So here's my deal, this shite does not exist, never existed, and the closest thing to it that does exist in "reality" is the tenants of Bushido, the code of the Samurai, and Zen. All this was implemented by the imagination of some wanky dude that later raped Indiana Jones ("South Park" speaks truth too!). Imagination! Story Telling! This shit ain't real? Why don't we ask the college professors that use it in school to teach? Why don't we ask everyone it's touched? Why don't we ask the multitudes of fanboys out there who would give their virginity for a lightsaber!

Dammit tell me what's real and what ain't!

So Ann Arbor hit me hard, but it cleared me up a little. I know what I offer with stories, and I know what I bring to the table. You may not like the bard in the party, but he's what tells everyone what you did.

I shall bring you a "Shrubbery!"

Ahh! I just cut my nails... much much better!

So I sit here and I have been posting pictures, talking to everyone, went to my friend Banditt's wedding yesterday, goofed off on the internet... and I played with my kitten! Yes my Kitten!

So. I have found a kitten. I was about to go to the hospital to see my Dad and I found a kitten as we were leaving. I heard it mewling in the bushes and saw it's eyes were gummed shut and it seemed to be abandoned. I took a warm cloth to it's face and opened it's eyes again. I watched it over night and kept it's eyes clean, and it seemed to be better. I took it to the vet the next day and they deflead it gave it some meds, and eye drops for it's infections. They were very helpful. It's really doing well right now, we will get it tested for the hard core cat diseases in a couple weeks to make sure it will be well.

You may be asking yourself why I am going on about some kitten rather than my dad right now... I know I'm asking myself that question. My dad had diarrhea really bad and an infection in his leg and it turns out that it's because he has not been digesting food well because he's anemic - which is associated with the diabetes? The infection could be not properly washing one's hands after the bathroom. But this is one incident in a long string of them. It sounds serious and it might be. They are putting him in a home for a while to get him rehabilitated... probably to muscle him up and make him more mobile. I bet this anemia is associated with lack of blood flow which is the result of a lack of exercise, and probably has something to do with sitting in a wheelchair all day watching 70's staple television without stretching, toning the muscles, or doing much of anything other than asking everyone to get stuff for him... See, I don't intend to be a selfish bastard here, but I don't know what to say either. Is this brought on himself? Is it independently serious? Should I feel pity? Remorse? Should I not be relieved that trained professionals who have dealt with people like him before are dealing with him now, instead of my mother?

I don't know how to feel about my Dad come to think of it. He did do things for me, he did a lot. I do love him and I want to help him... but what do ya do with someone who does need help, but then they go too far and basically never help themselves? Imagine someone falling and asking for a hand, and then going limp and expecting someone to take their entire weight to the nearest hospital... at it's worst it feels like that sometimes.

At it's best, it's good to be able to talk to my Dad, BS about stuff. But then it's just running around and serving him after a minute. See, this is a very complicated issue for me, and I have no clear sane way to articulate it. The issue of "My Dad" is this epic level of messed up to explain or talk about. Hell I probably already said too much? When don't I?

Anyway, on with this blog. My point? I have issues with my Dad. My Mom has issues with my Dad. My Dad has issues with my Dad. Things have been rough and terrible here while I was away. I never realized the extent of the drama and the issues of what my home life was/is like until I came back. All the senseless darkness, all the imprisoned thoughts and feelings. There is kindness, there is love, dedication, duty, honor... but oh so much despair. It permeates and subdues, gazing at us from every mirror.

So, what's this got to do with a kitten? This Kitten whose name is Shrubbery Rofalao McFiesty makes my Mom laugh while dad is away. She has gotten into it ya see. She has given it toys and loves to watch it run around and play. We are going to straighten up the house and keep the kitten safe. It's a reason to do something here. The kitten makes me smile and gives me something to love and hold on to. I suspect it will help Dad as well when he comes back. I think that's what we needed more than anything... something that brings us hope and makes us feel like we are actually accomplishing something. The Kitten may well be what the Doctor ordered.

GOLDSMITH! Crowded House is playing!

I am here cleaning my room and putting clothes away and listening to Crowded House's "Don't Dream it's Over" and it occurs to me that would be a theme song for my recent previous relationship.

I felt the need to put this into this blog because the whole time I hoped and hoped that it would work out. That there would be that day where we finally would stop fighting - where one of us would see past the incidental crap and realize how much love there actually was... or could have been. I know I tried to see past it... but I could always feel the brewing stewing dedication to blindness. Every time I felt it was finally resolved, once and for all, that the feeling that our lives could be great and wonderful as we had foreseen together, something completely stupid would happen which would be mine or her fault and and start the whole thing all over again.

I am thinking about this now, and I am just sad and disappointed that love always seems to be difficult because it can be such a simple thing. The need to be with another. Whether it be friend, lovers, family or anything. It's the desire to be connected with something/ someone other than yourself. How is this so damn difficult then? *GOLDSMITH!

I think love hurts me so much because it's difficult for me to connect to things. I don't think and move like other people do. I know that for sure... but I think it's not about being a perfect harmony or anything, but a genuine respect and admiration for something/ someone other than yourself?

I think what kills love for many is that fear of not really being connected. That what you or I may know is a lie. That there is no God, no communion with anything. We are all alone talking to ourselves and our imaginations, that nothing else is real.

Or maybe I just took a small thought and jumped over a shark. How could we not be connected? Even if it's in our own minds? Or rather is how we feel about being connected the only truth? Gadzooks! I've gone cross-eyed!

Anyway, feeling love for others and other things is a wonderful state of experience that happens to make you want to rip your heart and spleen out with a salad fork from time to time. That means you're connected I'm pretty sure. I regret nothing *GOLDSMITH!

La Ninja - sucker for warm fuzzies.


*"Goldsmith" is what my spell checker replaces "G*dd*mm*t" with in my typing program. I actually like this better... so ya know ;D

An ode to the "Ogazmo" theme song!

I am not sure what to write here as I believe it will devolve into emotional trudgery, fit for only Jerry Springer and High School drama class. I don't know about you, but I only like my drama in Role-Playing games and stories. I got over the High School BS when I was 25! (Late bloomer ya see, and a creative to boot!). I am more about feelings than other people - I know.

To describe what that's like with my emotions is like trying to describe an ocean flooding against a coastal town that is so used to being flooded they don't think much of the off hand typhoon, much less the typical rises and falls of the tides themselves. Right now how I feel is on par with the idea of "The Perfect Storm" as the coastal town is at it's limits to cope... but I think the rainy season is abating somewhat and my life has gotten better... or rather the coastal town has gotten better equipment and has been watching a lot of "My Name is Earl" and "Dr. Who" until the water lowers a bit more and proper clean up can happen.

So what is the big deal here? What is this typhoon of doom that I discuss? I think I am totally about someone and it not only caught me really off guard, but at a point where all these other little storms were happening. My biggest fear is that I will be seen as a crazy person, which I'm not. I'm just emotionally intense, but not clinically so.

Now I wonder about that statement as I write this - my insides are scrambling about and going absolutely stupid. Every thought, every action, every deed, goes into what I could do to remedy this situation. Honestly I would rather not feel anything. I would rather just go on about my life and be cool with it. I want this person to like me and I think they genuinely appreciate my existence, it's just that I sense many roadblocks. This is such a High School situation for me and I don't like it. I am in my Parents house, in my old room, hanging out on old ways and that is definitely not how to solve this specific equation. One important note here however. I feel karmicly, that I am not done here yet.

There is so much bad going on in my parents house that I don't even know where to begin. I... have nothing. I cannot stay to help unless I want to carry everything and forgo my career and my own life (as Toledo has a wonderful art scene, but not quite a place to make money at it). I feel my parents, though they are good people, cannot quite take care of themselves without some serious restructuring of psychology or faith.

My issue is that I want a family someday. I want to be something more than suffering the wasting tan of the East Side of Toledo. I had not realized how much I was influenced by all of this until I moved back home. It hurts. It hurts so much to see a place I loved and do love hate itself so much (a bit like my last relationship come to think of it). I don't have any idea where to start other than to really really clean my room and rebuild it. To throw away everything from the past, good and bad, and start over.

I could say chuck it, and move away, but I might as well be an angsty teenager and run away from home. I do intend on moving elsewhere eventually and soon (Portland, OR? Santa Fe, NM?, Atlanta, Ga?) but I have no specific plans yet as this isn't over. I also need a new job so bad that I can't even express it in words.

So all this and I like a girl... she rocks my world to it's very core. She challenges everything I believe in and stirs up stuff I didn't know I had. Stuff that I hadn't felt in... what? I don't even remember actually. I just keep thinking that my arrangement of life facts will come off as a puppy lovin' fan boy, and that is so not my intent here... although realistically that is what I have always been. Come to think of it, everything I am in right now screams "BOY!" That is not what I am though. I am, in fact, a man... I suppose the theme song from "Oragzmo" should play here right now huh?

Anyway I think I more or less avoided Springer-esque drama while discussing my emotional issues on an idle Saturday. Now off to my studio to paint, and hopefully finish a pen and ink!

AHHH A bug on my arm!!!!

Right now I listen to Journey's "Don't stop believin'". This was one of the last songs at the dance I went to at Gencon. The entire crowd was locked arm and arm in a giant circle, I was in good company and it's brought all us geeks together in an epic way. There was much camaraderie.

I listen to this and I am attempting to write the rough draft of a comic book. I don't want to go into too much detail, as I fear my ability to follow through with it. The work I have ahead of me is daunting if I am to pull this off. I want to be able to tell a grand tale over 6-12 issues. I have never written a proper comic book and I want it to sing! I want it to look professional, but I know it will be clumsy. Mayhap it won't be if I pay enough attention...

Fleetwood Mac's "Don't stop".

I have work tomorrow, I am on a super strong coffee caffeine high. I have been doing research on Astoria, OR where the setting is loosely based. I know the characters, I can feel the setting, I have a vague concept of the look I want, I know incidences and key points, but the pacing and paneling. The fear comes from the angles and the intricacies. The actual page layouts and the dialogue. (Harry Bellafonte "Senora").

I want to write this, I want it to be a freaking awesome story. I need to do this! Writing, drawing, and creating is like sleeping. I never want to go to bed on time, but when I do I don't want to wake up. My mind shifts in a dream state and I want it to focus on something specific, but I have to trick it and relax to go there... very much like controlling dream from my experience.

It's like having a freaky bug on your arm that you have to study, but being calm enough to observe it without freaking out while your skin crawls. That's what creating big stuff like this is like me thinks. (Fats Domino "Blueberry Hill").

La Ninja - wielder of the sacred spatula!

(Ray Charles - "Hit the road jack")

A note on 4th edition.

I was playing Fourth Edition of Dungeons and Dragons tonight with my best friend, his brothers and our other friend from high school. I had not played until tonight. I must say it completely needed to be done! Not only to get out and do something different, but to see how it worked!

I have not gamed like that since High school? It was nice to come back to. The adventure was a bit awkward, but it was fun to play something completely unfamiliar to me. It's been a long time since I played a first level character and didn't know it through and through. They simplified everything so much! The elegance of the game design! I can see why old schoolers have issue with it, but man if you are a newbie this game is smooth... especially if you set your character up using the computer tools they have on the website. I need to play a bit more to figure out It's true depth, but it felt like old times.

Vacation Through Car Trouble

My car has taken another dump on the carpet of my life. Apparently when a car dumps gasoline all over your engine that means the fuel pump went wrong. My car had been sputtering, I had believed it fixed, but I guess it wasn't. My mom was kind enough to pay for it to get fixed that time and I appreciate it. I just feel like...

Ya know what? I have nothing nice to say about this sitch. I doubt it would be very intelligent. It might lend itself to my desire to be able to make paint peel with swear words alone, but it won't solve anything, like kicking it repeatedly didn't. Or threatening to set it on fire - cause it totally would as the engine is covered in gasoline! I love that van... why does it betray me so?

So I think I am going to take the money it will take to fix my car and GO TO CANCUN!

I think I want to go to Astoria, Or... ya know, where they filmed "The Goonies". A comic I've been thinking of would be set there. It would be good to literally go and get a feel for the place.

Maybe the Grand Canyon? The desert sounds nice. Mayhap it would go all Castaneda on my ass and I would see something cool? It would give insight to that fight between FLLOYD the Mutant Coffee Table and that Giant Biker Squid.

Honestly going to Ireland and tracking down all the faerie rings I can find might be a wicked slick vacation. Money is an issue, but at this point I dont care. I just need to flippin get away somewhere that is not exactly work. I swear if ONE MORE THING GOES WRONG oh, it's on! I have like 2 credit cards with pretty good limits and no way to ever pay them back! If I am going to go bankrupt I am gonna do it cooooooool!

Alright, alright I am NOT gonna go bankrupt and seek vacation oblivion. I figure if I spent a grand doing something neat though it might be worth it at this point in my life. I have not gone ANYWHERE in so long, that going ANYWHERE will do. I really need to shake things up ya know?

Someone please tell me I'm not crazy. Or better yet, instead of cautionary tales about how I should mind stuff and be careful in this economy and basically stay at home and be "safe", tell me how it would be possible to travel somewhere REALLY FLIPPIN COOL without breaking my credit cards and myself in the process. That would be doing me a serious solid.

An idle Thusrday.

I sit here in my dad's old room and the morning sun glares in my face. I have a lot to do today to get ready for this Art Walk this evening, I have the day off my day job. I drink my extra good coffee - somehow my mom makes it better even though I bought the same brand and have the same coffee maker in my studio. I am in Spider-Man boxers and the Green Lantern is on my T-shirt. I sit here wanting to say something about professionalism, art, and my career.

I have to get business cards printed, Organize my studio, but paper towels, and possibly hit the DMV to get new tags. I have paid my bills today, and I still have a bit of cash left over. I am having a better week than last week. I regret deleting the previous post as this blog is intended to tell the truth in regards to gaming, life, the universe, and everything. I just felt it was a bit much to share with everyone ever. In any case I am feeling better, and that self trial helped me deal with a lot of internal issues I had been holding back since before the breakup. I hadn't realized I had so much pain.

Life has improved since last time. I went to an Anime' con over the weekend and had fun, low over head, and I made money. My Birthday helped as I had went to the drive-in with some friends, and I have been having a light work week. The paycheck won't be great next week, but I needed the downtime anyway. I am going to look for a digital printer so I can make crazier designs for shirts! I had gotten one project done, almost done with the next. I have a lot going on!

The very model of poetic excellence...

Poem poem gonna write
poem poem gonna get it right...

Songs are sung again
Remembering old tunes.

Songs are sung again
Songs once lost
Excavated among the ruins

There is no shame in remembrance
There is no pain to honor the past

What's over is over
What is never lasts.

Songs are sung to see the way
Songs are sung to hear the heart in a busy day.

To know what was
is not what will be

Do not let the past make you
A bitter me.

Sometimes it's wise...

Wisdom. Sometimes I think it's all I ever seek. I write this now and it lends so much insight into myself come to think of it. All the studying I do of people, motivations, stories, the occult, science, happiness, and sorrow, and religion.

In fact it ties into this whole concept of Spatulas, Wearing Pants, and Robot Monkeys. It's about pushing the boundaries of experience. About exploring the boundaries of myself. Who am I? What am I made of? How far can I go? This explains a lot about what my friend Jonge says in regard to circling the toilet bowl with my humor.. how I just jump right in. This also explains my awkwardness with everyone. How do you tell someone what you really see about them, good or bad, without somehow making them uncomfortable? Just imagine being able to read minds... it would feel something like that. This explains all the fascination with Role-Playing games, being other people. It also explains why I run from myself so much. I am like a fool who yearns to be a master, but still wishes to possess the possibility of the number Zero.

Humor I feel exemplifies this philosophy exquisitely. Which explains the whole deal Of FLLOYD the Mutant Coffee Table, my eternal love of the Ninja, and why I would use a spatula in a Zombie Holocaust or an alien invasion. It's about being unknown and unpredictable which ties perfectly into the concept of what Zero represents. The fact it does not look like anything but ultimately could be everything... even all at once. It is the eternal center of everything. Very much like the answer 42 is supposed to be...

So what is the point of this log? I feel like I have answered something terribly important just now. What I want out of life is experience. I ultimately wish to achieve mastery of myself... I just may not have been taking responsibility for my actions yet.

That is a scary prospect. Responsibility for any and all my actions. That means in addition to taking responsibility for my direct actions, taking responsibility for anything that happens even if I had no direct hand in it. I think this is what they mean by Karma.

I know what I am saying is very true. It's like knowing when a drawn line is perfectly straight.

Alright, now with this uber powerful revelation, how does one implement it in our day to day? How can I accept responsibility for everything and still keep my heart light? Or is the power of the knowledge supposed to keep me from being pulled down by ultimate responsibility? I feel the need to not say too much about pain and joy for they are things that pass as all things do. The only real truth I think matters is the acceptance of ourselves by ourselves for ourselves. Only then can we truly accept others for themselves. Why do I want to rub the Buddha all of a sudden?

So THAT'S why I like to eat food I don't like... holy crap I feel better now that I sorted THAT out!

Ownership...

At this point in my life I have been thinking about goals.

I have been attempting to wrap my head around how to get more out of life.. or at least find what it is about life that I really give a damn about. For a long portion of my life, hell maybe even through all of it, I could give a damn.

Life and death is relative for example, everything feels like a giant ink blot that everyone gives their own meaning to. Religion and comparisons there is sort of like saying whose invisible turtle has the prettiest shell. I could use any words in the English language and everyone would take their meaning at face value (their face value). So what really matters in light of all of this? What is the point of money? what is the purpose of fighting and dieing for principles that someone else made up in a drugged up religious epiphany, or who described the prettiest invisible turtle?

So this is where I'm starting from as I think about goals. What's the flippin point? Why not just sit around, go to work, come home, and play video games? Why not draw the same boring stuff, why reach for anything is enough of "it'll do" is already here?

So what makes me reach or fight for something? You know, I am starting to figure that out. I am tired of my "place" in life for one. My home doesn't suit me any more, my games that I loved are becoming something that holds me back. I see it all around me. How much of my life that I have not owned. I failed in a previous relationship because I did not own myself. I let my ownership get away from me, probably because it was easier. The concept of taking ownership is uncomfortable yet promising.

So what is ownership anyway? Good question as I am not always sure... but then if I was "Owning" it, I would talk as if I were. So that is how I will discuss this - as if I KNOW. Or respect what I dont know about it. That is ownership too.

Owning a situation is accepting the consequences of your actions regardless of the outcome - even if there were things not directly in your control. If you fought someone and died it is the acceptance of that. If you played the lottery and won it is dealing with all that comes with getting a lot of money really fast. Owning a situation is like the double edge of making wishes. Getting what you ask for is not the same as getting what you need right then.

Owning yourself is absolutely necessary to succeed in life. The sense of empowerment, the opportunity to take absolute stock of yourself, so you have the confidence to handle whatever happens. The need to never be afraid of the dark, not because you control it, but because you own it and whatever may happen there.

I am in the process of taking stock myself. It is time to Own my life. I choose the face my ink blot takes, though I know it is it's own shape too.

Chris - Wielder of the Sacred Spatula

Art and other avenues of mania!

Oh my freaking god what have I been up to? I have been going through a lot lately. I mean, my art for one, recently I went to the Art Show at Origins and had a blast, met some people, and possibly some very special people. I have an art studio in the Secor building that has a lot of room, and I am still figuring out what to do with all of it. I have recently begun speaking to a fellow artist who seems capable and wise, and he has given me some seriously good insight on my compositions at the first discussion we had. I have had my spatulas stolen (except "The Shwinger") and my dice and I have felt sad and empty... until I have gotten a new one thanks to my friend Ren. I was going through Origins and realizing how many of my dice I lost... oh sweet God the pain.

My day job has been slowly getting more and more abysmal as time goes on. I do not know what to say that I haven't either ranted about too much before or what to say to change anything there. Every day it just gets worse and I have been looking for some other gainful employment.

I enjoy being single, but it has been hard. My emotions feel barely there and I am unable to tell how much pain I am in, but it must be considerable as I still dont feel anything except melancholy for the loss of the cats. I feel like I woke up from a dream in my parents house. Like the past nine years didn't happen and I was in a coma the whole time.

I sit here in dad's room, the moon is half empty (it's waning) and I am about to watch "Zombieland" which is a phenomenal movie. I think of someone I met at the con, and I hope I...

It's too soon to say anything about that. She was awesome and I hope I will see her again. God, I hope so. Lets just say that with all the anxiety these feelings entail that I still catch myself smiling when she held my new spatula the way she did!

I have been reading a lot about business and how to make money and finance. I have been looking for ways to make my money situation far better than it is.

Today specifically I have been on an emotional roller coaster where I feel depressed, yet edgy about drawing things. I feel the need to burn off this extra energy, but lack the focus to use it to create anything. I want to do everything, but I feel lost in which direction.

I went to the show and I had fun, but I am frustrated with myself and my approach to it. I am not up to snuff in my own opinion and today's advice was fresh and a direction to go in. I am smiling thinking about it right now.

My life has definitely been improving, or rather a reckoning has been taking place... like the fall out from the Tower card in the tarot. It's clearing the way for new symbols, new hopes, and new dreams. hopefully a reestablishment of myself.

An intent redefined.

Hello everyone! As I have not blogged in ages I have decided to make this about whatever I type in it to keep it fresh! By this statement I mean, I will attempt to mine for nuggets of truth, write down general goings on in my life, and attempt to find patterns in them. I still intend to use this also as a gaming blog as well. Heres to seeing how it goes!