a quick promise ...

i have to apologize to the one person who reads this blog (moi), and swear that i will never again write an entry as stupid as the last one. i don't know what the fuck i am doing. i must be losing my mind.

firsts and fortitude ...

i actually watched the end of the indy 500 today.

as children, my siblings and i were sent to foster homes when our parents were no longer to support us. my little brother went to a woman's house where he was briefly united with my sister before she ran away to washington. my older brother and i were sent to another woman's house. i believe her name was mrs. garhart. but i am probably spelling that wrong.

either way, while there with her, we would occasionally go and visit some of her family. and at one of those visits, i think i watched my first and only indy 500. racing cars, as fun as it sounds to do, is not my cup of tea when it comes to watching.

but i have that thing about history, and that's what today was ... in some respect. it was history because it is important for men and women to be on equal ground at all points that such equal ground is logical. and by that i mean that unless there is a true biological difference, then there should never be a practiced difference. but i think i will just stop at that, in the intrests of vagueness.

either way, racing a car, in my opinion, is something that i see men and women being pretty equally prepared for. i mean, but your foot down on the gas and turn left. it's not exactly fucking rocket science. and i certainly don't think it takes more strength to turn the wheel. i mean, these cars have power steering, right?

so i watched it today. she didn't win. she did finish ahead of all the rookies. in my mind, that was something. and if she had the gas, she could have won the race. i, though, was not expecting her to win. she just needed to perform under pressure. but i was most impressed with the interviews i saw of her after the race was over.

all of the interviewers wanted to work the woman angle. and each time they asked her a stupid woman question, she deflected it with an intelligent race-car driver response. she didn't answer the questions they wanted to ask, nor did she react. she just said what she was supposed to, and moved on.

i think what's the most special about people is when they do the thing that they are supposed to do when they are supposed to do it. it is, after all, a much more difficult task than it seems. but when people are able to come through, whether it be by driving a car or just carrying yourself appropriately, it's inspiring.

i guess in that i imply one of my fundamental beliefs about life: all you can do is do it. making statements (like what i would do) is for the weak. you have to walk the walk. and more over, you have to not care if other people notice. it's about setting an example. and the example we set can't ever be conscious of the way it is perceived at the time it happens.

ahhhh ... what the fuck do i know? nevermind.

damn, i should have read that book ...

i feel like such a fucking lame-ass hippie poser right now. i am sitting here with my fucking lava lamp, listening to psychadelic music and thinking about how much the government is out to get us.

but really, it is. i thought it was pretty fucked up earlier this week when i learned that we are now going to be required to have a national id, and that id will have a computer chip in it that logs everywhere the id is used. this is some sick as orwellian shit, yo.

i don't know what i think of it all. i know it doesn't feel right. i know that i don't feel like becoming any more part of this system than i already have. i am starting to feel like mikey. it's a little crazy.

at least i am not foolish enough to think that anyone gives a fuck about me and what i do or say, but it is still a little freaky. i feel like i am forced to choose between two options, face whatever consequences will arise when i refuse to get the required card, or leave the country. obviously the latter sounds like a much, much better idea ... but it would take more money than i have right now. i suppose i should find out how much time i have.

the world really did change a few years ago. i hope that no one thinks otherwise. the amount of crazy ass shit in the world seems to be multiplying in some sick little snowball like manner. i hope i don't wake up tomorrow in a world that i no longer love. i guess that's a rather foolish statement.

whatever. clearly i am tired. i didn't even go on about the bankruptcy thing. but whatever. please tell me that a sane man will be our next president.

random late night thinking ...

i can't imagine the world before sept. 11 anymore. is that odd? i look back in my life and i see what life was like leading up to it. and let me make very clear that i do not think that is bad, whatsoever.

i find it very easy to romanticize war and whatnot. i find it a lot easier than spelling, that's for sure. though, my money says i am a much better speller than i give myself credit for. to bad i never feel like using the spell check on this thing, but i digress.

i wish the world was like living in casablanca, you know. and seriously, i find the film highly overrated. i want to be a bum, living the existential life that i choose while the world falls apart all around me. i just feel like that's the way it should be ... it paints the right background for how i want to experience life.

so i guess i am saying it has little to do with what happened that tuesday morning, i like the conflict. maybe it's that in conflict you find the best parts of people and life, in my opinion. i suppose there are a lot of people that would argue with me. but who the fuck cares, really.

i just have a way of romanticizing things. booze, drugs, sex, war, death. i am not sure what that says about me. i guess i should say love and faith and other positive crap that i honestly believe from time to time.

really, i am quite fascinated with the notion that i am experiencing history at every turn. and as i get older, i feel like i am starting to have an appreciation for the way that events unfold. i do like to predict things. and yes, i often like to do what i can to try and make my predictions come true, but what would be the point if you kept your grimey hands out, right?

history, though, is different. i don't really feel like i have any sort of impact on history. i feel like an outlier, and that my political opinion is in such a minority that i might as well save my breath. and sometimes it's hard for me to look past that. of all the luxuries that men seek, other than sex with gorgeous women, i think the one that drives me the most is that desire to try and mold the world into something that i can be proud to pass on to those that come next.

i bet that sounds uncharacteristically (spelling again) noble. and it probably is. that's that power drive, just wearing a noble mask. that's the little facist in me. and so maybe that's the answer. you know, if i want there to be war, than i feel less pathetic for not only being unable to stop it, but also unable to stop contributing to the war machine.

and don't get me wrong. i don't want to sound like some pathetic hippie either. fuck that noise, yo. i can't say enough that i do not have a problem with the fundamental nature of war. my problem with war is when innocent bystanders start getting killed in horrific numbers. war is fine if it's just the men going out unto a battlefield somewhere and having at it until only the most risiliant are left standing. to me, that actually sounds quite productive on an evolutionary level.

it's like cutting down an old-growth tree: immediately, five new trees will grow out of it's lush trunk.

but really, it always comes down to evolution, if you are me. as much as i want to look at my death with a wanting and an excitement, i am scared. so i try and convince myself of something larger. and i guess that's just the way it works ... or the way i want it to work ... or someting. i really am so confused.

note to self: sleep more, and before you drone on in your blog.

what shall be, shall be

it's funny, someone who prides themselves a writer can't barely keep a fucking blog. sometimes i really make myself sick. but whatever. i have conflicting feelings about these things anyway.

this is the blog that i leave a link to in the signature of the majority of my e-mails. i guess that implies that i will either have something interesting to say or that i am going to post details of my personal life, so that friends and family will keep up with me and my life.

of course, i am not too sure that any of my friends or family could give a second shit about what goes through my head. i have a tendancy to keep it all inside anyway, convinced of my primary creationism (the notion that the primary manufactures his/her own world) and that it's all mine anyways.

really, though, if you don't find yourself interesting, then how can you expect to be interesting to other people. so fuck that notion, yo.

i guess i am saying that this blog has no identity. and when i am not interested in the news, which i am not right now, i don't really have anything to write about. and all the while, i am scared that people will actually read what i do put in here. my political beliefs have been without base for so long, i no longer know how to relate to other people politically.

every now and then i can do something with some power. just the other day, i managed to convince someone to at least consider that the sun is god -- end of story. i am not sure that he bought it for any longer than he and i spoke. but you know, it's never about the results, only the effort.

so i guess me rambling on like this for a little while is worth something in the war of blog upkeep.

i did look at the news a little. it was the same bullshit as usual. a war that took place more than fifty years ago plays higher than the war that saw another american offensive and double digit deaths today. i don't even know what to say about that.

the other day, i stood at the light rail waiting for a train. and there was a hippie there talking about how much they hated america and the american way of life. she talked of leaving the country, as if she was going to find something better somewhere else. not that she wouldn't. i am often not sure that i am truly an american at heart. i wonder if i might be better suited living in europe, and i certainly dream of living on the beaches of the med sea. but this is all not the point.

the problem, as i see it, is that people seem to think that they have the right idea about the world. they seem to think that they have the answer, usually involving everyone other than themselves to decide to live life as they do. god, is that a bunch of confusing double talk?

i don't know, i guess i just want the world to be as is wants. but i am too sick of everything everywhere i look, i can't even perceive what that means. i am going to stop now, i am not even making sense to myself right now.

i keep on getting woke up early. it's like it's a new thing every fucking day. so now i am tired. and i think i am too tired to be writng in this journal. so ... off to the land where everything is just wonderful.