Category Archives: Wudar

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.

The Heist

I had to come here because I just had a musical moment unlike any other I’ve had in my life. Dramatic, I know.

Macklemore and Ryan Lewis just released their first full-length album to what already sounds like crazytown. #1 on Itunes? From Seattle? Did that just happen?

So I listened to the new album, and was immediately getting goosebumps and out-of-control emotional. A quarter of the songs on this guy are songs that I have seen live which adds a ludicrous amount of backstory, because I lived them and am now finally getting to hear these songs in the context of an album. Which for me, is an amazing insight into the rest of the album at the same time.

The thing is, this is one of the first times in a long long time that I have been able to be completely un-objective about a piece of art, especially a musical one. There’s just too much history and I could give less of a shit about being critical in any shape or fashion. This album is good and I really only care about one other person’s opinion in the matter and for once, I feel I have seen enough to reach a completely biased conclusion because I say so. The fact that this is small-potatoes compared to many problems in and around my life is not lost on me, it just feels good to take something subjective and create a tailor-made objective reality.

I like the  really happy one where my wife and I dance and scream like idiots in the middle of neumos, completely surrendered to the moment and having the time of our lives.

Positive Force

Editor’s note: I totally started this one months ago, and just came back with a gusto to write something. Glad I gave myself the opportunity to polish this turd, it was pretty ranty before. Now it’s been gussied up and is just mildly ranty.

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Here I sit, existing and typing. Existing in a life that I might as well think of as my choosing. Why not? All I can do is exert some action, and let it run. Newton’s second law of thermodynamics tells me that this energy is going to push something somewhere and add to entropy.

On this entropic quest, I am what I am. The more I try and break it down into something that I have control over, the less I’m in control. I stare at this paradox and swing from end to end, trying to determine something subjectively good out of it. Good for me, of course. What else would make it good?

I look around me and all I see is ego. It isn’t really that much of a surprise though, why shouldn’t there be? What else is there to do but express your preference to an indifferent universe? It only makes sense to have a preference, something you would prefer to do given the multitude of choices. So the question is, how to frame said preferences if apathy lies at the root of it all.

I impose importance to the things that I choose, and then….stupid. It doesn’t matter how much I try and self-deprecate, or self-glorify, it all smacks of stupid if I sit here and pick it apart. I guess I’m looking for something right in the middle between awareness and its implications. I’m absolutely sure I can’t put it into words, but here we go.

In the end, ego rules the day. It’s the force I feel I rail against more than any other idea in my life. That idea of self-importance really just gets to me. As a conscious being , the logical next step in any situation is to think of myself as important. It’s just as easy to pull back and look from a distance though, gazing from a detached perspective. Detached-me really has it figured out, riding a wave of zen out to destinations unknown, and loving it. In the meantime,  real-me sits and grapples with trivial things and remains relevant due to the immediacy of its nature. Everything always seems so important with a view from the top.

Despite this immense privilege, I feel it around me, what I perceive to be negative energy. I swim through it dealing in the way I feel is positive. No real reason,  just because. It’s very self-serving and a fine demonstration of delusional thinking to outside observers. It’s just too easy to think without being aware of every angle of that thought, leaving so many gaps and blind spots. Typing it out is one step, at least I don’t have to worry about the thought police (cue the ominous music)…or do I? Nope, probably have to worry if it’s just existential bullshit.

That inherent bullshit just screams at me though, I have no idea why I don’t completely submit and embrace the cynical bastard I am. I have every resource at my disposal to do so. It comes back to the laziness idea, in the end it’s just too much work. Change is exhausting and hard, and my infinitely complex and multi-faceted self reels at the possible outcomes.

Something about my being won’t let the idea (and the feeling, more importantly) of empathy go. Just thinking about it now, it makes total sense. Somehow, my ego feeds my empathy. It seems completely counter-intuitive, but it rings true when I type it. I take all my self-importance, and temper it with a healthy dose of laziness. Apparently, I have decided whatever I’m doing now is the easiest thing to do.

Until more information crops of, of course. Then one more arm can be added to the fractal, and I can continue down the spiral with greater efficiency.

Cheers, you cynical bastard.

Spaceman Spiff

The title says so much for me. It’s a starting point, not an afterthought.

I recently moved back in with my parents, and upon digging through piles of my incoming stuff and stuff I left when I moved out, I found piles of Calvin and Hobbes. It made me happier than I thought it would, as it has really turned into something worth revisiting since I dedicated myself to it back when I was 12.

The dry humor, the verbosity, the philosophical bent, the illustrations that are a world unto themselves. All of it brings me back to my childhood, and then right back to my (child-inspired) adulthood,  a simple comic melding the two into something new. Bringing up ideas that made sense to me then, and makes even more sense now. I believe this has something to do with wisdom, but I’m not going to commit to an idea like that.

Beyond the simple metaphor of comic strips though, so much is going on. It’s strange to think that one of  the northwest’s most violent strings of time coincides with your seeming growth, but there it is, coincidence at the ready to be folded into the narcissistic and selfish ideas of yourself.  Why else would they exist?

I just feel myself letting go. Ready for change, ready to be a master of my destiny and scream off into the cosmos as Spaceman Spiff in a little red ship. A hero of my own design, existing in a world I have no control over. Fate, fortune, and a willingness to show up all melding into something I want, something where I don’t even care that I’m fooling myself into thinking I have a modicum of control.

All I see now is my dreams on the horizon, ready to be fulfilled. Patiently waiting for me to catch up, with full awareness that it was an inevitability. It doesn’t even matter how much delusion these ideas contain, because it is beyond delusion now. It is full-blown acceptance, striving to hit light-speed. My life is malleable, my terms are malleable, but my soul is not. It will achieve its goals by any means necessary, yet prove it can be done while still adhering to the golden rule. It will be fully-aware, but knowing when it needs to turn a blind-eye. It will be a testament to the heights of humanity, knowing just how chock-full of hypocrisy it is.

It will be a paradox. But it will be mine.

Off the Grid

This weekend, i have this whole itinerary where I’m biking from work to my parent’s house to a beer fest, and then back to my parents house, because i wanted to do a little training for the STP and this is a practical way to go about it. save a little gas money in the meantime, as well.

I totally forgot my phone at home today,and won’t be getting it back until sometime late tomorrow. It’s kind of liberating. People are going to try and get ahold of me and think I’m a total jerk for not getting back to them immediately. More likely, no one is actually going to try and get ahold of me, as everyone leads busy weekends in the summer.

I kinda love doing shit like this though. It’s not like i can’t come to the internet, or have access to phones in other places i go. It’s just inconvenient enough to get ahold of me now. the ball’s in my court now, i will be getting a hold of YOU when i damn well feel like it.

what a time we live in! i have expectations of instant gratification in every aspect of my life. it’s nice to pull back from that for a moment or two, and realize just how silly it is sometimes. what’s not important will soon become not-important again, and life will carry on.

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?

Overdrive

a quick note to self before getting to the topic at hand: filthy beers had it’s first semi-public tasting and did a bang up job, and even though it’s been going on for a year, it feels like things are finally starting. and now back to said topic.

It may have been being sick for the past month, it may be a shift in the moon’s gravity, it might be a slight switch in brain chemistry. Whatever it is, i feel like i’m in overdrive. I want to go out and be interacting with people and life at every moment of everyday. I feel like my creative juices and mental acuity are at the highest highs they’ve had in awhile. i feel like i should be striking while the iron is hot.

i’m busy all the time, but i want to be, it feels exhilarating. i’m flirting very closely with the line of too-many-things-syndrome, but i feel the most purposeful i have in a long time. it’s directed at beer, friends, family, life. i want to be out there in it, interacting, doing.

this happens occasionally, but i feel like i’m gearing up my mind and body to really make a go of it in the brewing game. because if i want to be successful at it, i’m going to have to be running at this pace all the time, no foolin’. it’s a strange mindset of truly knowing failure is not an option. not in the sense of the phrase where it’s do or die, but in the sense that nothing is going to stop me.

apparently, if i can direct it properly and justify it to myself, i am a force to be reckoned with. fingers crossed.

I Exist In A World Of My Creation

A way of life?

A subjective idea?

A bitchin’ band name?

A what-you-think-is-clever written expression?

All are possible. Everything is possible. Jesus, why not. Nothing crazy, nothing out-of-the-ordinary, just weeks of regular life cumulating. What do you expect? You think things are out of your control ALL  the time, and when that idea tries to rear its ugly head itself, you point and laugh. It proved its existence by trying not to exisit. and your brain hurts a little. maybe more than a little.

so you try and tip the scales by mentally rejecting this. You compare this to receiving the Rikisihi Stink Face from life. Bound to happen, but now you associate it with a pseudo-sumo wrestler’s ass with your face, getting rubbed in by hyperbolic announcers. you grew up with this, it makes too much sense. all you know is this is something to avoid, as far as you know.

but maybe getting over the stink face is the accepting. But the idea of it happening is too well-established in your subconscious. Scotty-2-Hottie and Grandmaster Sexay point and laugh while you get the stink face. and that’s the bridge too far.

god, that show was ridiculous. there is no defense for watching professional wrestling. no defense besides the pure joy of surrendering to that which is so understandable.

so it comes full-circle. there is no defense. but you know that’s not true because there’s always a defense. Life is such. Yin to yang, idiot. So why the title? why does it ring so true?

(surrender)

why not?

(surrender)

nice point, idiot. that is a really good title.

Macklemore

Ridiculous.

Seriously, filthy and ridiculous. Heather and i went to see Macklemore perform to a sold out showbox, and it was one of the most melancholy shows i have ever seen. totally not due to macklemore though, it was all on me. He rocked it harder than i had ever seen him do.

But two songs in, i felt the melancholy. This is his big sold-out Seattle tour before he goes on his nationwide one, and the crowd energy waiting to see him off was thick in the air.  The opening acts had the luxurious luxury of a die-hard crowd waiting for Seattle music. All the opening acts rocked, and got a willing and able crowd. Then Mack came out and killed it like he always does. It felt different this time though. Like i was saying goodbye.

Not to get too sentimental, but i felt happy with such a touch of sadness. I got really cheesy and was trying to remember a Shawshank Redemption quote i knew fit so perfectly. I’m just going to type what i came up with as opposed to googling it because it’s the feeling, not the exact words. they go: “some caged birds are so beautiful, they make your world feel that much less bright when they leave, but you knew it was a sin to keep them in the first place”  it feels wildly inappropriate on reflection now, but the general idea is there. There was an element of farewell.

Just a mere 3 years ago, I saw macklemore flyering the hell out of a show he had coming up in a couple weeks, right at the neumos exit, after killing it as the most prominent opening act there that night. probably a year later, I went to Nectar on the Vs. album release and paid a $20 “suggested donation” (a term i am highly fond of) for the album he and this dude Ryan Lewis were putting out, because i loved what they were doing. Meeting and getting to talk to him at the various events of his we’ve been to, and seeing what a cool guy he is.

it’s been growing and has ended up at this big triple sell-out in seattle before hitting the road. seeing him put his usual A game and realizing he was going to be showcasing it for the rest of the nation gave me a little NW pride. Actually seeing the beginning and being there  for what i considered a culminlation was a little over-whelming for my sappy self.

as effusive as this seems though, my admiration pales in comparison to hers, my wife. he’s her “hip-hop husband”.

can’t blame her.