Bowling

 Day after day I find myself meandering around the house, bouncing off the walls in search of something -- anything -- that will remind me of what I'm doing with my life. I guess juicing some cucumbers was something, but I'm not sure if that's really making a difference in terms of improving my health.

All I know is that this weekend I'm popping the cork and downing a few. Gawd knows I'm gonna need it. They're saying there's a canine virus spreading across the country that's got me a bit concerned, but my pup doesn't seem to worry about it, I'll do the worrying for him. Ain't nothing better than having someone to worry about the bad. No more parks for awhile, we'll stick to the concrete gated confines of the company plant.

It's also worth mentioning that I had a mild ass-kicking today. Even better? The dude who was supposed to give me a break on this particular 15 day shift never showed up, so here I am stuck in the same place for another 12 hours.

On the bright side, I did manage to consolidate my blogs, set them up so's I could get things in order. Time will tell how this'll turn out.

Random thought: I miss going to the movies and bowling. Should I combine the two? Maybe. Bowling inside a movie theater or a movie inside a bowling alley? Now that's the kind of shindig I want. Someone pass me a beer and when I'm good and tuckered out, just sling me over your shoulder and carry me back home. My house is just up the street and over yonder. - out

Loner

 

9:29pm — the night bloomed alive, sizzling with the soft blue aura of an intense cyberpunk vibe. I could feel the darkness cackling with delight and knew what has to be done.

I had to stock up on the goods, and soon – not tomorrow, not later – right then and there. I had to do something– to drown my need for sobriety was the only accurate answer.

But impatience got out of hand. A creature of some sorts had infiltrated my backyard, making my loyal canine companion lose it. He didn’t enjoy the thought of some other four-legged beast muscled up to his turf, so of course, I convinced him to remain inside and suggested a good night’s sleep.

The burden of silence had surrounded my soul once again. Sometimes I felt the need to break out of this lonesome lifestyle of mine but then I remembered; loneliness is what was keeping me sane. The silence of my torment slithers up and down my spine, a powerful jolt of peace whispering in my ears. I write about it, or I rant and cover those stories up in meaningless jibber jabber into the recorder.  What’s the point? Who would care?

But then I remember, life is precious. Keeping it crisp and clear is the goal. The silver lining of a clear night sky, the thundering sound of my dog’s bark, and the occasional bright flicker of the electronic voice recorder I use like a captain’s log in a strange cosmic universe.  

Sometimes I post my recordings on the web as part of a legitimate communication, other times I dump it into the depths of the cyber dimension, a trash heap podcast I call slime skull of snot. That’s what makes me feel alive. That’s what makes me care enough to never give anything up. That’s more than enough.

Alcohol. That’s all I need to make things right. A bottle or two should satisfy my thirst. I go off duty tomorrow, happily trading independence for retoxication.

Live fast, live alone, and stay alive. Yeah, that’s my mantra and I’m sticking to it.

Elixir

 It’s a day like any other in my rambunctious world, one that I’ve created for myself from a strange intersection of old-fashioned adventures and cutting-edge internet culture. I feel my heart pumping as I anticipate the feeling that comes from the elixir, freshly-squeezed from the Jack LaLanne Power Juicer. Carrots and celery are the prime ingredients that will ignite my fire today, and my mind races with thoughts of life and death and of the real power we can harness from the power of plants.

But I cannot stay in this heady world for too long, as I must also prepare what will become a most potent concoction of black and green tea. I already guzzled twelve cups of coffee this morning, mucho caffeine coursing through my veins, so this tea will be the acidic yang to the caffeine yin, the perfect balance that I need to remain optimally alert for the journey that is about to begin.

A sharp inhale serves me with the truth of the ritual I’m bound to, and my feet quickly trace the path to the kitchen, where I make the finishing touches on the potion. Pouring a scoop of protein powder into the liquid and adding in a hint of vitamin C, I down the liquid like a cool elixir of knowledge and strength.

Ah, yes, the Casa Caffeinated Cyber Cult. A Sultan of an online existence with piles of wisdom and wit of all kinds. That’s why I’m here, a digital man in search of the secrets of digital enlightenment.

And so it goes, this endless loop of life and death and coffee and tea, an improvised haiku of sorts. The storm clouds are rolling in outside, but from this day on, I’ll remain inside, capturing all of the energy I can from the eternal matrix, and brewing it all with this, my homemade elixir of the gods.

Fare you well, dear reader. May my journey provide you with at least some kind of fodder for thought. That’s my main purpose here: to provide a little glimmer of something that will linger in your mind so long as the caffeine in my cup.

Now I must be off, elixir in hand, to explore the darkest corners and the sunniest shores of the online world. Out!

Ass Kicking

Today was one of those days. You know the kind – the kind that doesn’t offer up any real inspiration. The sky was a dusky blue, and there was a slight warm breeze carrying the sweet scent of California in through my open window. The fronds of the palms trees were moving easily as if they had been choreographed for some mid-90s LA noir movie – and so I decided to capture the moment.

Enter my most prized (and inexpensive) piece of tech: the cheap-ass Vivitar 503HD, dropped multiple times and now held together with hot-glue and scraps of metal. No worry, after all I purchased it for a mere $20 on eBay. You can buy almost anything online these days – I’ve even seen a man’s soul listed for sale. I passed on the opportunity to buy a soul (‘no need,’ I told myself) as well as another that offered a contract for ‘one complete ass-kicking’ (‘I get enough of those every day,’ I reasoned).

Golden sunlight was reflecting against the pale wall beside me, and so I whipped out my trusty Vivitar and starting recording. But then the sun eventually set, and the moment was gone.

Tomorrow it will start again. Maybe this time I’ll find something of meaning – something I can keep. Until then, I’m just one of many, left to drift through life’s vastness and the grand scheme of things.

Peace out.

Universal Language

 

The buildings sending out their frequency, the universal language of energy.

The late afternoon in LA is my sanctuary, my cocoon. I’m sitting in a little cafe, typing another post for my blog. The sunlight reflects off the buildings and the sound of cars roaring by is the only noise. I love this place, the vibrancy of life seemingly contained in the four walls of this little cafe.

I’m writing too many, too soon, but how can I not? The inspiration is here, now. I know if I don’t take this opportunity to type and create, I’ll miss out and it’ll be lost forever. I know I’m at my best when my fingers start working the keyboard. No pen and paper for me. No thought out structure. Just taking it one key at a time, and living in the moment. This is my conduit and catalyst for creativity.

I sit here, in the golden light of the late afternoon, feeling the energy of the city. I can feel the sun heating up the pavement outside and the wind blowing in through the open window. It’s alive out there, and I can feel it. The people bustling about, the high-rises looming in the background, the planes looming low as they make their descent into the nearby airport.

The concrete buildings, the glass windows, the blue sky – it all speaks to me as the music of life. I can feel the collective pulse of the city, alive and throbbing with energy and possibility. I have no choice but to be part of it, to take it in, and allow it to flow through me.

So I write, because it’s the only way I know. I feel lost if I’m away for too long, so I sit here and type, letting the city live through me for a few moments. I’m here to capture the energy of the universal language, and then fall back into my cocoon of late afternoon Los Angeles.

Late Afternoon

 

The sun is slowly sinking into the Pacific. I wander the streets, feet crunching beneath me. A dry heat fills the air, and I take it in. This is a city of dreams and ambition, of iconic characters who influence generations. I don’t mind being overlooked, I fit in with the street vendors, the homeless, the tired workers pouring out of office buildings. Amidst the chaos, I find peace.

I stroll, unafraid. I make my way through the city, passing a jogger here, and a dog-walker there. Past the familiar graffiti and bright murals. For a moment, I feel a sense of belonging, that I’m part of this vibrant structure, part of the ebb and flow of everyday life. In the distance, I see the orange sky, framed by the silhouettes of tall buildings, and I smile. The late afternoon in Los Angeles is my favorite time of day.

Morning Chaos

 

As I drove through the desolate streets of Lost Angeles, home of the long forgotten Kmart, I was basked in the inferno of the early morning sun, the radiating red glow of its flames providing a feeling of solace from the darkness of the night. Through the orange tinted glass of my Jeep, I could see the police 4×4 quickly accelerating onto the 91 freeway, only moments before I saw the ominous electronic billboard that sharply declared that the Eastbound lane of the 91 freeway had been blocked off due to an accident. I therefore took the exit off of Cherry St., my faithful dog at my side, and began to make my way North.

The streets here were familiar to me, I could feel the phantoms of Kmart and family restaurants looming in the air around me. But, much to my chagrin, those places I had grown to love in my youth had been replaced by barren land seemingly up for lease. The journey, however, was about to take an unexpected and more frantic turn. I was close by my homestead when suddenly the entire road was blocked off by a swat team action scene as if some kind of grisly event had taken place. I swerved around the happening and check my rearview mirror to find some suicidal malcontent slow walking against a red light, defiantly staring me down as I drove by with my faithful dog in tow. I drove off and back to my humble abode, a sense of urgency now racing through my veins.

Not long after all this, I find myself reflecting on Sunday morning in the city of Angels. Despite being surrounded in moments of chaos and uncertainty, I was still overcome with an immense feeling of solace, as if maybe, just maybe, this place was still safe. Though times have changed and things have gone, here I was, back in the ever changing Lost Angeles.

Spare Rib

 

Yesterday, I spent my time wisely. I gathered together an eclectic mix of music to motivate me on the morning drives I take with my faithful canine companion as we head to our favorite Park. 70s rock, 80s power ballads, 90s bubble gum and even some orchestral numbers and a hint of gospel and country. I loaded up my USB drive and blared the songs from my Jeep as I drove off into the sunrise, My dog sitting next to me, excited to be beginning our adventure. The air was light and the birds sang in harmony, bringing a certain peace to the atmosphere.

Once there we parked and began our journey on foot. As we made our way through the picturesque landscape, I was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the world around me. But then, suddenly, we were jolted out of our zen-like state when he stumbled upon a half-eaten spare rib, carelessly tossed aside by one of the campers. I reached into his mouth and pried it from his teeth – but, alas, not before he had taken a hearty bite of it! I was relieved that the scare seemed to be all for naught, and we continued on in our relentless pursuit for an unforgettable morning.

It was not all smooth sailing. There were those who tried to dampen my spirit by Prohibition-level glares and snide remarks: evidently, these shady characters had mistaken me for some sort of law enforcement officer. That was fine with me – I had my trusty sidekick in tow.

But still, all in all, it was a beautiful morning, and I could feel the power of the positive energy emanating from my music and from nature. As I returned home, my cup brimming with this positive caffeinated energy, I’m ready to see what the rest of the day holds. out

Acid Soak

 

The acid soak was a mild success, though nothing that I should toot my own horn about. I arrived at the Egyptian’s office at 10:15, exhausted from the search for usable parking within the cavernous garage that the gods of the city had provided. I eventually opted for a spot on the rooftop, preferring the challenge of the four-flight descent to the tawdry press of car bodies that occupied the floors below. Having made it inside and having my blood pressure read, the Egyptian declared me free of any onset of diabetes – a happy moment indeed, as Christmas called upon me with its promises of steaks and pies.

Unable to fully fall into complacency, I retired to my abode with a half-jar of ointment the Egyptian recommended to apply to my leg muscles as a part of the acid soak aftercare. So I spent my evening in the purple tint of the room, with the worry of the requirement of filling up my vehicle with gasoline looming in the back corners of mind – one task I would not overlook.

Come morning, I set off with my canine companion to the park at the accord of the searing sun and will make good on applying the ointment. What else will transpire on this day is hard to assess, though I’m sure that the winded canine that meanders with me will be quite happy to enjoy even this small reprieve from the trappings of society. 

Life is rarely so unpredictable as it is when uncanny treatments dot your day. Nevertheless, I believe in the power of their treatment, their promise to return us to health. Here’s to the hope that comes and tomorrow, and to returning to normalcy – however long that may take.

Night Jets

 

Standing here on my balcony, looking out at the twinkling lights of the Los Angeles International Airport flight corridor, I can’t help but think of what it must be like for the brave people aboard the planes coming in, eager for the sense of freedom and fresh starts a trip can bring. To be able to jump in a metal tube and find yourself in a new place many miles away is a freedom I wish I could experience without the subtle fear of weightlessness. The Norms restaurant sign glowing in the night makes me contemplate taking the plunge and buying a ticket – driving the triumvirate of nerve society out and away.

I haven’t taken a trip like that since 1990, and the idea of it still sounds exciting – to climb aboard a black triangle and gain access to the outer limits of my consciousness. But I digress, I can’t help but feel Fixin’ as I observed the planes coming in with that subtle feeling of jealousy coursing through my veins. 

Some may feel this post is a mess, and I suppose, depending on the way you look at it, that could very well be true. But there is also a strange kind of beauty in what I have made, an unadulterated, uncorrected look into the way I see things – and from here, that is all anyone can ask.

Running Thru Conspiracy

Ahh, morning routines. Nothing quite like it, as its a chance to stretch, hit the pavement, and get into the day before the chaos begins anew. This morning, myself and mutt Urt decided to take our daily jaunt around the local park, our stomping grounds. Starting with a few sprints up and down the hillside between the trees and giant mud puddles Urt loves to play in, it gave us a chance to get the heartrate up and get a bit of the natural air in our lungs.

Being in such close contact with nature is a blessing and a curse. Once you get out into the park — and the wild — you never quite know what awaits you — perhaps a nice chat with some other joggers, or even some surprise guests.

This morning, we were greeted with the same familiar face, an elderly woman who I suspect has had suffered some sort of stroke a few years back. She always visits this park like clockwork, a peaceful solace of time tucked away outside of the city. Beyond the park, Urt and I had a sprint through one of the adjacent neighborhoods — and past one particular house I deemed the Conspiracy Theorist Pad.

The house is normal enough but for a car parked in front decked out with media-boxed prophecies caravanning around the sides, a prophet of the dawn warning us of our impending fate. Adorned with phrases like ‘Nukes Coming’ and ‘Virus is 5G 60Ghz,’ I find the whole thing quite fascinating. Honestly, it’s hard to capture with words. Check out the photos below, courtesy of me and Urt’s visit — thx Urt.

In any case, our daily jog/walk is an integral part of my routine, and I’m thankful for Urt to join me on our adventures. Here’s to the morning jogs. Onwards.

Off Hiatus

 

October was a wild ride, and now I’m unbelievably relieved to be finished with it. My beloved dog was struck down with a nasty anal gland infection, and I had to fork over a whopping $3,000 for the emergency surgery he needed. It’s not that the money bothered me too much, I was just so worried and anxious for my little friend. It was a nerve-racking process, but I’m relieved to report that he’s made a full recovery–the stitches have been taken out, and he’s back to frolicking with his usual glee.

Speaking of checkups, it was time for my own bi-annual Merriweather Blood-letting to assess my health–the results have been both good and bad. Good news is that my prostate-specific antigen (PSA) numbers declined along with my cholesterol levels. However, it’s not all roses. My carbon dioxide levels are creeping towards COPD territory, and my bilirubin and glucose levels have both fallen into the danger zones. I’m due to visit the doc next week–The Egyptian, as I call her. She’s a young, exotic looking doctor, though I’ve only seen her eyes through that medical mask. Hopefully she’ll be able to tell me what needs to be done to set things right.

Nonetheless, I’m off on a positive note. I was able to get my CB radio installed back into my Jeep, and my little pup and I can now listen to all the truckers’ banter while out in the wilderness. Until next time. -out.