Don't Let Go

Resist and
be targeted and
find yourself and
move along and
make some friends and
change the world and
defend yourself and
don't let go.

Johnny

When Johnny first discovered his laser vision, he flattened the rear left tire on his dad’s car. He pretended like he had no idea what happened. His father found the tire half an hour later, and called Johnny out front, asking if he knew anything about it. “But you’re playing out front all day, you had to have seen something,” his father would say, but Johnny only said “Maybe it was aliens,” and his father would stand there puzzled, looking at the melted rubber that couldn’t have resulted from a sharp rock, nail, or screw.

Johnny was afraid that he would hurt somebody, so he researched laser vision one night when his parents were out for dinner. The babysitter sat in the living room watching movies and eating their microwaveable popcorn, like always. Johnny didn’t like microwave popcorn anyways. Plus, it gave him the chance to research laser vision.

Google yielded ads for laser vision correction, which Johnny didn’t need, and about 1000 pages about Cyclops, the field leader of the X-Men. Intrigued, Johnny clicked a promising link and read up on Cyclops. What he found was simple – Cyclops always had a visor, or some special glasses to keep the lasers in. Johnny found a link for laser safety goggles, and ordered a pair with his father’s credit card.

At school, Mrs. Hayes asked why he was wearing the safety goggles, and asked if he was afraid of getting his eyes hurt. “No Mrs. Hayes,” Johnny would say. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone else with my laser vision.” Mrs. Hayes chalked it up to typical childhood fantasy and went about her business, cutting construction paper for the days art project as the children bent over their math books and read pages 17-34.

Johnny’s laser goggles didn’t work, as he found out the hard way when they erupted from his face one day at recess, sending plastic shards in all directions and burning a two foot crater into the ground. He told the duty that it was a meteor, but other kids had seen what happened and they told on him. Mrs. Hayes, at an emergency meeting, confirmed that Johnny believed he had laser vision, and the vote unanimously called for reporting Johnny to a higher authority.

And so it was that Johnny’s family was forced to move to a rural part of Montana, where the collateral damage from their son’s talents would be of no harm to anybody. Johnny’s father was forced to give up his job and look for new work, but finding none, he returned to the agricultural roots of his father’s father.

And Johnny plowed the fields with laser vision.

How to Get Over a Breakup and Not Kill Anybody in the Process

You’ve waited all of your life to be living with the woman of your dreams. You wore the shining armor down to gunmetal gray. And yet, here you are banging your head against the kitchen counter one, two, seven times, all the while telling yourself how stupid you are. Make sure you do it when she’s not home. Nobody likes a downer. Alternately, you can simply imagine slamming your head into the kitchen counter. It has a similar effect.

This first part is important because it will jog loose whatever-the-fuck went wrong in your head – because even though you just moved in together, even though you’ve been talking about getting married, even though you’ve already started thinking about rings, you messed up by thinking that things would go easily for you. Tell yourself that nothing goes easy, and anything that does isn’t worth having. Your Dad always used to say something like that. You’re not sure if it applies in this case, but it feels good to think it anyway. Most things your Dad told you are like that. You wish you would have been better to him. Be glad that there’s still time.

Remember all of the compromises you made for her and the morals you sacrificed. Realize that it was all for nothing. It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll get over it. If the feeling persists for over a month, see a doctor. Nobody wants to see you get hurt. But chances are that it won’t last over a month because this is all part of the plan. You need to cauterize the wound.

Resist the urge for melodrama. Without regard to how cool it is in the movies, tearing up old movie stubs and photographs with dramatic effect is not a smart thing to do. There will come a day when you would regret not having those memories. If you must, put them in a box for later.

Pick up an old journal of yours. Read over all of the parts that say, in particular, “I love her so much.” Laugh – a bit – through the bitterness welling up in your eyes. This too will pass. Turn to a blank page. Grab a chewed up pencil. Note how the pencil, like you, has suffered; torn by the anxiety and whims of another. Your identification with inanimate objects is inevitable, and it will only continue to grow stronger, so you might as well enlist the pencil in your plight – the dejected tools, forging a new path in life. Together, pour out all of your sharpest emotions. You can dwell on self-pity if you’d like, but you’ll eventually produce some rendition concerning the sheer hopelessness of love. Continue writing. Nobody will ever see what you write, so just go at it. Jot down half thoughts, stupid thoughts, terrible thoughts. Write about what you really want, and how you would take it by force if you knew you wouldn’t get caught.

Stop. Read over what you just wrote. Stop again.

Scribble it out until you tear a hole in the page, all the way through the pages below it. When your frenzy subsides, note what remains of the notebook. Pick up the shreds from the floor and take them to the outside recycling bin. Jam them underneath the Raisin Bran boxes so that she won’t see them when she comes home. You’ll start laughing again, and realize that it’s been almost twenty hours since you woke up. You need sleep.

Call a friend instead. Tell him you need help. He’ll ask you what’s going on, but you probably won’t tell him because you don’t want to seem like a pussy. Just tell him you need to hang out. By the urgency in your voice, he should know that something serious is going on, and if he’s anybody worth spending time with he’ll be there in ten minutes.

Watch your favorite movies and bullshit about anything that comes to mind. Now is the time to bring it up. Tell him that you’re terrified about the prospect of being alone forever. He’ll tell you all the things you already knew, but it’s good to hear somebody else say them, as if they become more truthful when compressed into sound waves. They do.

Take the most obvious steps and try to get involved. At the very least, attempt originality. Try Ultimate. And when you come home from your first practice and she’s made you dinner, give her a hug. Tell her you’ll love her forever. She’ll understand. Begin preparations to study abroad. The rest will take care of itself.

The Rosebush

“Okay, so one bucket for you and one bucket for me,” Karen said, kneeling in the flowerbed. Elise flopped down beside her.

“I still don’t see why we have to do this,” Elise said. Karen noticed her lack of enthusiasm. It left the both of them as dry as the earth around the dying rosebush.

“Oh, come on it’ll be fun.” She said, trying to infuse the experience with some life. “Besides, is it too much to ask for you to spend one afternoon with your mother?”

“No, I mean I don’t understand why we have to do this. Weeding. They’re just going to come back anyway. You can’t stop them.”

“Yes, well, that’s just life.” Karen reached for her scratcher with an inward sigh and began to pull at the weeds surrounding the rosebush.

“How encouraging.” Elise responded as she set to work, leaving her scratcher unused.

“Nobody said life was encouraging, El,” Karen said.

“Nobody said we were talking about life.” Elise shot back. Karen went on with her work, forcing Elise into the next move. “Whatever. Isn’t this sorta like ethnic cleansing anyway? Choosing which specimens get to live, and which get to die?” Elise tore at the tops of weeds, leaving the roots buried underneath. Karen knew better than to bring it up.

“Maybe,” She said instead. “Think of it this way. At the center of the garden is the rosebush. Young, vibrant. It has its entire life before it, so long as it’s taken care of. So long as the weeds of the world don’t plant its seeds too close. A rose has got to be careful about-

“What’s this got to do with anything?” Elise cut in.

“I’ve put a lot of work into these flowers. And I’m not about to let any weeds crop up and destroy them.”

“What makes you think that the rosebush is any better than the weeds?” Elise asked provokingly.

“Because it’s mine and I know what’s best for it.”

Elise shot to her feet. “What makes you think that you know best? And just because you planted it doesn’t mean you own it. You don’t own anything!” Her scratcher flew out of her hand and struck the fence behind them. Within the space of three seconds she was in the house, door slammed shut behind her.

Karen buried her face in her hands, before being reduced to sobs that rocked her like a mother rocks a newborn baby.

This is Why I Kick Your Ass

I've written more than most can say,
I wrote a hundred page screenplay.
When I was young I swallowed grass,
and this is why I kick your ass.

With poetry my voice is grand
Things will happen as they're planned
I'll see you when I'm out of class,
and this is why I kick your ass.

I spoke for Martin Luther King
I talked about that identity thing
I see through people as if they're glass
and this is why I kick your ass.

I play guitar like David Grohl,
My enemies don't run - they crawl.
You might think this poem is crass
But still, it's why I kick your ass.

I BS papers like a pro
When I walk it's in slo-mo
Momentum's velocity times mass
And this is why I kick your ass.

I look so hot that I melt rocks
Knock knock, who's there? off go your socks.
I'm not a colonel, I've got no brass
But I know how to kick your ass.

Compared to me, your life is trash
Step back or I'll burn you to ash
My taste in art can't be surpassed
And this is why I kick your ass.

People are like Seasons

People are like seasons,
and sometimes they change.
Some have their reasons
as love turns into rage.

But often times it's different
It's just the way they're built.
They're going through the motions;
The ground beneath them tilts.

There's something catastropic
in the things you can't avoid.
Seek refuge in the tropics
Where seasons are destroyed.

Keeping Score

Bring it back to who you once were.

Take the time to remember how you were so sure.

Take it back further, take it back to grade four - you believed with great conviction that someone was keeping score.

It didn't bother you at first because you knew you were the man, knew that God was holding hands, gonna walk you through his plan.

But then BAM came the lightning and BAM there's life and now the thing that you've been searching for is fading out of sight.

I'd tell you not to get down when you realize the lies, but it's gonna happen anyway, why talk of paradise?

When you're trudging through the everyday pain, gray in the face, what you need's defibrilation, not a billion dollar goose chase.

They'll try and tempt you with a prize but you know you've gotta earn it, try to tempt you with a smile, but you know that smile is burnin.

Man, you see these things all day, I don't mean to be a bore, just remember, don't forget it, someone's always keeping score.

Can't Understand

There are some things in this world that I will simply never understand.

Because no matter how wide somebody's scope is, they can't occupy every point of view that there is.

I wish I could.

I wish I could understand, because quite frankly, it hurts not to. Until I can explain certain phenomena, it will continue to hurt.

But it sill not stop hurting because there is no explanation and instead of getting better, I'm just going to have to live through the pain.

Reasons to be Happy

I love my job. I don't get paid all that much, but I love it all the same.

I love my family. Sometimes you forget about the temporality of the world until it all turns upside down on you... except for your family.

I love writing.

I live in a country where I'm allowed to love most anything I want (so long as it's legal).

I am succeeding.

I love my friends. I don't see them much now that I'm up in Seattle, but that's the best way to know who your real friends are.

I can almost play Cold Day in the Sun without error. Soon I will be able to sing along while playing.

I have all but one Rush album.

I have all Muse studio albums.

I have all Foo Fighters studio albums.

The Fountain of Lamneth just started playing on my computer. (That's a Rush epic, for those of you not blessed with an intricate understanding of the (second) greatest band in the world.)

Garth started Finder's Keepers.

I voted.

I have no enemies.

My creations are immortal, and always by my side.

One of my friends (making that two - I didn't want to confuse you by saying two and having you think four) is getting married next summer.

My brother is getting married next summer.

I love riding my bike around. It is simultaneously pedestrian and automotive.

No doors have been closed to me as of yet.

I've been granted a well-rounded education.

I have inspired at least one person in this world. And when he goes on to make a difference in this world... I can take all the credit for it. :)

We live and learn and live some more.

I am a power player.

I know how to play tennis, and baseball.

I was the #3 salesman in my store in our last contest period. I'm not doing so well this time, but that #3 can never be taken from me.

The Fountain of Lamneth is still playing.

I found an RP guild in Guild Wars.

I have all the essential Firefly/Serenity items, minus the Christmas tree ship ornaments, Mal's pistol replica (which I could probably make for less money than you could buy it for) some trading cards, the individual issues for the first comic arc, and a life sized Serenity house. But that last one is on its way, you mark my words.

I've seen the Foo Fighters live.

I have almost all Jack McDevitt novels.

I managed to set up my printer underneath my desk. It's really very cool. It's sitting on a box, and inside that box is my guitar amp and a cigar box of my late grandfather's, which contains all my guitar accessories.

Words.

In a short minute, Bacchus Plateau (the best movement of The Fountain of Lamneth will start).

Bacchus Plateau just started. I can play this part by the way.

And I'll end with one of the best reasons for me to be happy: you read this blog.

This is Illusion

The thing about life is, quite simply, that you can't go back. You cannot redo. Cannot choose again the choice you should have chosen the first time.

YOU. CANNOT. GO. BACK.

Learn this. Know this. It has been learned firsthand by far too many. And none of us, not your worst enemies, would wish that on you.

Live life like it is the last time. The last chance. The last time you'll ever live that moment. This is critical.

Because we come to resemble the choices we make. It is not the case that we make choices from who we are - who we are is a false construction. A false conception of the nature of human, of the nature of that which is natural. Who we are is an illusion.

And in that illusion, the best way to "know" someone, and thus the best way to "know" yourself, is to perceive consistency in action. It is this consistency that appears as personality. As character. As who we are. Obscuring, gently, the truth - that we are an ever shifting myriad of choices.

Choose well, for you are choosing the life you will be forced to live from that point on.

Because you cannot go back.

Meritous

We have choice in life.

The choice to act

Or the denial of that same.

Is there merit in both?

We look at the conqueror and praise him for his fortitude. We admire his conviction, and his refusal to settle. When he pushes onwards we cheer him on - when he stumbles, we gasp. He teaches us to create the life we want to live and to never look back.

We look at the monk and praise him for his peacefulness. We admire his contention, and his refusal of want. When he rejects the world we cheer him on - when he stumbles, we gasp. He teaches us to life the life that has been given us, and to never be caught up in desire.

Merit is a fool's game.