Category Archives: Rant

Muse

Whoa nelly, stop the presses. This is a bunch of writing in a small frame of time, especially for my present-self. It’s because I’m trying to flex those muscles again, get them pumped. I keep coming back here with massive intentions, with my muse screaming at me to get something down while the feeling of wanting to create is fresh on my mind. It really is strange to think of some muse, but it’s there. There are times I couldn’t force myself to write the smallest tid-bit of stupid, but that feeling creeps in, and everything I write out is pure gold. I come here though, so there’s little self-editing, and zero research, making it beyond easy to sit down and hammer out some non-sense.

What do you dictate of me, oh muse? Bring something out of the inky-black depths of my sub-conscious? Perhaps reflect on something of great importance I hadn’t considered until this moment? Or maybe just vomit all over the keyboard and get it out with all of the concern laid on catharsis and none on editing?

It’s weird because the pull is very real, that pull to write. I’ve been too tired and exhausted recently to do anything, but now here I am, hammering it out. There is no immediate need, no immediate idea, just a need to type something out. Tonight, this is what I will get from my muse. There’s excitement though, because I feel there is so much to type about, so much to write and put into words. I know it’s all about beer, too. That is what I am going to write about, that is what i will draw inspiration and joy out of.

I know this is what  my muse (and gumption) will start pointing towards. My work and passion are starting to come out of the woodwork and fuse together into something I can tame and master.

Or maybe not. Maybe I just need to be able to unleash them and deal with the consequences later. Really, if I could predict my muse, I’d be rich.

Have Nots

To be perfectly honest, I view myself as a have. I have every possible thing I could ever want or need at my fingertips. Sacrifice consists of having my wife dropping me off at work because my car’s busted. Or moving in with my parents because we can’t afford to live in the city. Or not being to be able to fit in breakfast before a long work day because I decided to sleep in a little.

There’s a multitude of other first-world problems I could throw in here, but it would end up sounding as preachy as it already does. This is my luxury though, my time for reflection. I can always bring down the sledge hammer of perspective with off-the-cuff statements like “I wonder how many people died of starvation in Africa today” or ” I wonder how much suffering occurs around the globe due to America”. A bunch of other high-horse-jaded-yet-privileged things pop into my mind, but just feel cliched beyond anything I can possibly come to terms with.

I can keep going in this loop, this endless cycle, but I feel I can at least throw a few of these cliches out there. At the very least I can look back on writing like this with shame and awe of how out of touch I was and still very well could be. Gotta keep an open mind, right? I just feel so out of touch with writing like this, because I can sit back and re-read it and already see the inherent hypocrisy, the conflict of ideas. It might be because I can’t structure an argument properly, but there’s the reason I come here. Hash it out and try and make a modicum of sense. Structure takes thought.

It doesn’t take thought though, because I already have everything I need right here. Everything. Yet I project into the future a better future with what I could have by effort expended now, ideas and work applied to this future self. Things could be so much better than they are now, if only I applied myself more. That idea right there is at the heart of a maddening paradox. Do more to achieve more, if you don’t want to achieve less. Or something like that, I sense over-simplification.

Deep down I think that this is all the rantings of an over-privileged straight white male, clearly sitting in the societal elite by default. So in protest  I rail against it and try and earn it, through merit.  I try and establish a yardstick of accomplishment, but end up not really caring about it because it’s only measured against my projected ideas and self. It’s subjective.

I try and have-not as much as I can because I don’t feel I deserve what I have, which is also completely subjective. I only know that for me it’s much easier to tell myself I don’t deserve things, it seems more fitting.

The kicker is that I have it though, and I get to decide with what to do with it.

I take a deep breath, exhale, and quiet the chatter. The best I feel I can do is listen and keep and open mind.

My open mind tells me to live in the present, and be eternally grateful.

Ex

So this is part of my punishment, i suppose. having an idea, a fully-fleshed idea ready to go, and then forgotten. it had something to do with starting with “Ex”. Exaltation, extension, expensive, it doesn’t matter. As important as that idea may have seemed at the time, this one takes it’s place. you forgot a seemingly important idea. despite how important that first one may have been, aren’t you here now because of it? and aren’t you now expressing said idea inferiorly?

good job idiot, this is the life you live. just the thought of leaving this thought unedited leaves you happy. it would be incomprehensible. you’re not that drunk, but typing takes focus, and you’re too mad at yourself to do so properly. the filters you have in place at least take up enough space to keep you from doing this raw.

the conception was a good thought though, and hopefully, you can find your way back to it.

this does not bode well for your ideal self though, typed in words that are socially acceptable. true definitions are not beyond you, but are beyond what you are willing to expose to those who may discover who you are.

it feels like bullshit to type in code, but at the same time, it makes you think. the thought strikes you though: really this is stupid all-around, and anyone hoping to get anything out of this beyond yourself  is getting what they paid for.

now get back to rememberin’. who else is it going to do any good for?

Art

Again, i apologize for the last post, sort of. sometimes documentation is more important than content. on that note, let’s get started!

so here’s the counter-point, ideas running fresh and anew, somewhat un-ironically. apparently, i need outside influence to get out of idea-ruts. this version came in the form of  a documentary (mockumentary?) of epic proportions called Exit through the Gift Shop, done by infamous anonymous street artist Banksy. This film does an amazing job of blurring the line between fiction and reality these days, reminding you how much you have to hone your ability to question reality and what is presented to you. or just reality and what aspects of it you choose to believe. that’s the highfalutin vision of it, but you could just as easily look at it as the highbuffoonery it is.

in this regard, it really shows art for what it is, reflection of society be dammed. you watch shit like this and see just how important, and unimportant it is. how much you, as the viewer adds to the final piece. the creation of something this deliberate and high-concept is nothing short of amazing. yet the fact that i consider it as “high-concept” is already talking out my ass and out of my depth.

here’s the thing. for a moment in my life, Banksy made me care about an idea. as brief and limited as that moment was, it happened. it hit me hard enough to try and respond, to react. damn you, artists. is this your purpose?

Swirl

This is going to be bad, i can tell already.

It will be recorded, regardless.

The anxiety is killing me. Anxiety over nothing, over everything, over ideas i turn in my head and wonder about. I don’t even know what to think about them, it just feels so worthless. All i do is sit and observe, with occasional creations. When thought feels worthless, i can come here and dole it out. Expressing ideas about the inherent worthlessness they contain. The irony is not lost on me.

They come into my head and get turned around up there, examined. A distraction, an exercise in futility. You keep pulling back and the picture gets smaller, the relevance, less.  Sometimes it’s fun to analyze ideas, and other times it just seems ridiculous. You do it anyways, because there’s not a whole lot else going on.

You get distracted, and you roll with it.  Sometimes they are sought after, sometimes they drop in your lap. Sometimes you are amused, sometimes indifferent. As far as I can tell, it beats the alternative.

So it goes. You can run from yourself, but you can’t hide. Always there in the corner of your mind, pulling strings you can’t even fathom. This sounds worse than it is, really this is some stupid venting. but that was realized at the conception.

so get on with it already. daylight’s a wastin’.

Of Love and Bicycles

For once, I come here with a point to make, an idea to flesh out.  I’ve never really sorted out my feelings as a bicyclist in the city of seattle, even though i’m pretty avid about my biking. There was a show about it on KUOW today, and both sides of the issue were being argued by idiots on either extreme, so i felt it was time to iron out my thoughts on the matter.

Here’s my philosophy for bicycle riding, especially in an urban setting: I am invisible. Too many times have I made eye contact with people in cars to establish some form of right-of-way only to almost be hit. I’ve avoided being doored so many times because you have to watch parked cars like hawks while riding along side of them. I can’t expect these people to see me, even in full reflective getup, covered in blinking lights.

I have to make sure I’m not the one getting myself hurt. I feel this is my responsibility because the big inequality in the relationship between bicycles and cars is the size/weight ratio. When the two collide, the most that’s going to happen to a car is some form of body damage. To the bike rider, you can total your bike along with seriously injuring yourself. There’s too much at risk as a bike rider to care about what’s right or lawful with stakes like that. if you get hit on your bike and it’s proven that the driver was at fault and you had the right-of-way, guess who’s still in traction.

So there’s a balance to be struck on how people bike around a city that wants more people to ride but has no money to put in any type bicycle infrastructure. Hell, Seattle has no money for any of it’s infrastructure, period. So yeah, i ride on the sidewalk, sometimes it’s necessary. I have no problem riding on urban streets, but only when the speed limit is 25, and there’s some way to pass me. I’ll sometimes ride the wrong way down a one way, on the sidewalk. I’ll sometimes cut through a median i wouldn’t be able to if i was in a car. This annoys alot of drivers, but i’m invisible, i’m not getting in their way, and i’m not hurting anyone. having a little license to go places you couldn’t in a car is one of the perks of riding a bike. you respect pedestrians, and watch your ass, it’s not that tough.

On both sides of the equation, there are assholes. There are drivers that will yell and throw things at you, there are bike riders who will clog a major arterial by riding three abreast during rush hour. I’ve always dealt with asshole drivers while on bikes but i never realized how bad bike riders could be until I got roped into critical mass once by some people i met at a riding event, and saw the depths of what assholes bike riders could be. It just comes with the territory of being extremely self-righteous with a feeling of superiority, i think.  that attitude is a part of both camps, though.

One thing that really bugs me about bike riders is that they complain about getting pushed around by cars when they ride on major arterials. Sometimes you have to ride on an arterial to get over a highway, hit a specific bridge, or get to a specific street.  most of the time, there’s at least a shoulder or a sidewalk to use because there are lots of vehicles and pedestrians on these routes. But more often than not, you can head one block over and be in much more bike friendly side streets. You avoid lights, heavy traffic, and the chance of hitting a pedestrian. It’s also a lot more pleasant, and allows you to find better ways to get around the city.

Seattle is a city connected by cars. The metro system is decent, but just barely. Walking is discouraged through few or extremely dilapidated sidewalks.  Without the infrastructure, there will be conflict. And just like drivers, there are idiots that ruin it for everyone else. I think that’s the bottom line. Willful or not, uninformed riders are just as bad as uniformed drivers. If you head out on a bike thinking that you always have the right of way due to your on-a-bike nature, you’re gonna get angry when you see not everyone thinks that is so, and most likely get yourself hurt in the process. You can head out in a car thinking the same way, but at least the road system around here is designed for cars.

Everyone just gets it in their heads that drivers treat riders with no respect, and vice versa. When in reality, there’s a few idiots on either extreme out there,  making it happen. My bike riding is always a pleasant experience, because i’ve ridden long enough to have common sense about what i can and probably shouldn’t try to get away with, and better routes to take.

I love riding my bike and will continue to do so. Even if we get some of the best infrastructure in the world, i’m not going to start thinking cars can see me anytime soon. I can get away with more if i’m invisible.

Surreal

So I’ve been avoiding posting for awhile, despite the heavy need to do so. There’s alot going on right now, and I just haven’t felt the need to sort it out yet. If i don’t force myself to, then I probably won’t, so here we are.

Here’s the seed that got me here: Over-hearing a conversation, with this comment being the point I jumped in:

“Why is it that these things are discovered after i’ve done all this work?”

Immediately the response that struck me was “Becuase of your narcissism and self-involvement. You notice these things because they affect you directly.”

That would have been really mean and uncalled for though. It also would have been over-simplification on my part. But the statement doesn’t ring  untrue to me, although it may be an oversimplification.Part of that idea still resides in that statement. Many things we say about ourselves contain that nugget of narcissism. How can it not? So what is this seed i wish to define? Anger, of course. Directed at myself and others due to circumstances outside of my control. you narcissistic asshole.

This is more accurately described as a rhizome cut off of a root system that is already there and is crying out for water. This week has been tough, yesterday especially. You don’t see the saddest sight of your life everyday.

Here’s something my uncle read at my grandmother’s funeral. It’s called Plan For Life, by Mother Teresa. I know i have heard this piece before, but sometimes, you’re more ready to listen.

people are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
forgive them anyway.

if you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
be kind anyway.

if you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.
succeed anyway.

if you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.
be honest and frank anyway.

what you spend years building, someone may destroy overnight.
build anyway.

if you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous.
be happy anyway.

the good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.
do good anyway.

give the world the best you have, and it may never be good enough.
but give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

you see, in the final analysis, it is all between you and god;
it was never between you and them anyway.

To me, most of the quote is good, but almost overly-earnest in prose, and almost redundant. But the last line is big. God or not, it was never between you and them anyways. it was never between you and them anyways. jesus, what a line. you and yourself…and love in-between. it’s all there waiting for you, if you can tolerate yourself.

then your friend has a near death experience and you are just beside yourself  with surrealism now.  You wonder what you can type as a holder of information without maybe over-stepping your bounds, but then it’s all over face book. And yet you are the person concerned with yourself  so deeply, the one you referred to after overhearing a conversation. Think of how this effects you, and then try and empathize, right? why else would you try and understand yourself so well if not to empathize with others? this narcissism runs so very, very thick.

With some reflection though, all that seems to be done is empathize, as much as you can muster. Everything seems bad, but it’s not as bad as it could be. For that, you are thankful. It could always be worse. You could be completely alone with yourself in this environment. But you don’t have to, your world is populated by those you care about. You narcissistic asshole. Navel-gaze some more, get the self-hatred out of your system, and then carry on. do something you can be proud of, be someone that you admire, live awesomely.

it sounds good when you say it like that. then the awful truth comes through. let’s do this anecdotally. it takes you three weeks to write this. a tidal wave of  ideas regarding mortality left you stunned, and you backed off, telling yourself you needed time to let it sit. but between you and yourself, you were hiding. what was it that brought you back here again?

you went to an excellent Christmas work party which overflowed with joy and touches of nostalgia. after hours of decadent eating and drinking, out of nowhere you won an ipad by the plucking of your name from a santa hat, by your beautiful wife. despite being ridiculously lucky and blessed all-around, you’re a little miffed that you have to install itunes on your computer, just to use it. this is the life you retreat to. these are the problems you deal with. this is your life, for better or worse.

so what? you can at least come here to scream about what made for such a great night tonight, just talk about it, point to it and show that it existed, give it some words.  breath some life into it, if only for you. the thing about death is it happens. the thing about life is it happens.

be awesome in the meantime, i guess.

Important

Sometimes everything seems important.

Sometimes nothing seems important.

What’s the difference, where does the delineation lie? Sometimes my breain tells me that ideas are important. New ones, old ones, ones that pique my interest, or not. Then it turns around and when i start picking at the idea, it immediately jumps straight to “what’s the difference”. Not just idea picking though, all incoming information gets passed through that filter, first and foremost.

This idea is always within ideas, but at times like these, my brain is more apt to agree with them, rather than point out how negative and unconstructive it is. It really bugs me because I know I’ll get over this feeling and things will go back to normal. But that whole idea of changing perspective on a time continuum lies near the foundation of this “what’s the difference” idea.

Commit to something and change your mind. Think one way about something then change your mind. Change your mind about something and then change your mind. It’s inevitable, like alot of things going on in life.

So since there’s a choice, the obvious way to go is the one that causes less pain, right? Right. Of course it doesn’t work that way though, i can only force my brain to embrace so much joy, without going to check on how pain’s coming along. Interest in one grows, the other wanes. It has to be like this, but I’m also supposed to be this construct of a person that deals with others. I guess it fits in because it has to.

Deep.

Introvert

The title says it all, one of those have the title before going in pieces. Days like these where all I want to do is live inside my head and have no one bother me. I can barely wrap myself around my brain, and the idea of using words to express this to others is just something I don’t want to do. I can still exist, but I’d rather do so very outwardly silent.

I can come here though. I can listen to others, but am pressed to respond. I can do whatever I want, to a point. I balance the comfort I feel within myself with how it’s projected out to others. As well as I can, anyways. I get the sneaking suspicion I’ve been caught, but what the hell does that mean.

you know what it is.

get back inside your head, and live it up.

Government Booze

Man, i was already so convinced that the initiative to privatize liquor sales was so locked i didn’t even consider it wouldn’t pass. It makes sense when i think about it, considering this state’s nanny-like qualities, but still, i thought this had a chance.

I don’t really give a damn about being able to buy liqour at Safeway for cheaper, or ideals like the government meddling in private affairs. It was going to bust down the three-tier system completely out of state law, and it would have made it so much easier as a brewery for us to distribute our product, whenever it gets to that. There are still much bigger obstacles for us to overcome, but that would have made it easier for us in the long run.

Ah well, it’s not like bottle shops and beer bars have disappeared, there are still plenty of places to get great beer around the city. I mostly make my own these days, anyways.

Condolences to people who enjoy martinis and scotch, though. You still gotta go to the state for your booze needs.