Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Damon's LiveJournal:

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Saturday, November 19th, 2005
6:43 pm	Something drew me back here. It's been nearly a year since I quit writing in this journal. The last entry was something like this one, random and for the hell of it. I suppose I feel the need to communicate more through writing, but writing is so damn lonely especially when you've been writing a goddamn novel for more than a year and you don't dare show it to anyone because it's nowhere close to being finished. A year ago I probably suspected I would've been done by now, at least hoped I would've completed my masterpiece, published it, and moved on to the next project. But no, I'm still hammering away on this novel. It's hammering away on me too. So much has happened in the past year. It's pointless to recapitulate. What I have to say is that I've accepted a lot about myself this past year that I would have never admitted before. Denial runs in my family. I feared discovering what an awful person I am. As I get over that fear, I discover that I'm human. More and more I discover how pathetically, wonderfully human I am. It's a curse and a relief. I'm normal and I'm not. I'm incredible and I'm just like everyone else. It took me a year to discover this. Yes, that's what I've been doing with my time this past year in between getting fired from my job, which I thought was bullet-proof (maybe I thought I was bullet-proof)and re-entering the wonderful world of bartending, and then back to an office working for Israelis exploiting the Patriot Act. Man, it's been a year alright. One year in L.A. can be like a lifetime else where. And don't forget, I asked Kim to marry me. Even I don't believe it. Come March, I will be a husband. I escaped Katrina. Kim and I felt survivor guilt eased by offering our home to friends and family who lost everything or anything. Unfortunately the West Coast is damn for a Katrina victim to travel. I was crazy to start my morning journal here every day. It was stupid. I'm glad I took Al's advice and quit. But I do still enjoy writing here knowing that the whole world could read it if they cared to. It's nice to feel like I'm writing to someone instead of to plain white paper at five in the morning when everyone is still sleeping. If you're reading this, let me know you're out there. Maybe then I'll keep writing here. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 24th, 2004
5:41 pm	What the hell? I have the time and thought I would drop a few lines. All is well, better than ever. Kim and I are really on top of it, life, everything. We're still pulling the finances together. It's still tough, but it's working. We're happier than ever and even talking about having a little one, perhaps we'll start working on it in May. L.A. is a fast city. Change is rapid here, which makes it feel like time is moving at about a hundred miles an hour. New Orleans moves at about thirty-five comparably. It was one year ago tomorrow that Kim and I pulled our big ass truck and all our belongings into Los Angeles and quickly realized how ill equipped and unprepared we were for the biggest city in America. This will be a sentimental Thanksgiving; then Christmas in Rhode Island and then New Years in New Orleans. I don't know if my heart can take it. The novel is going about as well as first novels go I suppose. It's hard work and I'm writing more than three thousand words a day. I've even started on a screenplay. I work on it when I have spare time at my job. It's amazing how fast it's coming together. It'll likely be finished before the novel even though the novel has priority. Happy Holidays to all who once read this journal and to all who may stumble upon it. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 24th, 2004
9:20 am	Back Again I don't know that I've ever been this humble and this happy at the same time ever. About two weeks after moving here, I got a catering gig for a party up in Bel Air. I wrote the entire story in this journal I believe right after it happened so I'm not going to go into all the details. Jack Nicholson was there. I served him a glass of Evian water after he asked me if I had any bourbon. There was no bourbon at the bar, but the host accommodated him by handing him a bottle of Single Batch Jack Daniels in the kitchen. I happened to be walking through to go to the bathroom as Jack with his Jack was trying to tear off the annoying plastic seal on the bottle. He was having trouble so he started biting it to tear it loose. I couldn't believe two weeks after being in L.A., there I was in a Bel Air mansion watching Jack Nicholson gnaw at a bottle of bourbon. This has nothing to do with the point of the story I started with. I just love that anecdote though. Anyway, I had dropped a full tray of red wine all over the white carpet of this Bel Air mansion. Needless to say, the woman who hired me and catered the party never called me again. I was still very much discombobulated at the time. I had not recovered from the move and I was very clumsy and after that night, very angry and frustrated. A few days ago, the woman from the catering company called me and wanted me to work this Saturday. I couldn't believe it. She must've not remembered me and just found me in her data base and needed someone to work for her. I accepted, not reminding her of my incident last December of course. I worked last night for six hours for a fundraiser bartending on a bar made of ice at the Peterson Automotive Museum. Working parties like this used to wear me out because I hated the work so much. But I wasn't tired at all last night. I realize that I've come around. I'm more versatile and flexible than ever, which allows me to be happier and more productive. I hope she calls me for more work. I need it. (Comment on this)
Saturday, October 16th, 2004
4:18 pm	Live Journal is foreign canvas these days. I just got back from San Diego. A friend of mine who lives there, another expatriate, threw one hell of a party last night. The writing is going well and my mood and overall sense of well being is up I'm happy to report. Does anyone miss me out there? Good. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 9th, 2004
10:00 am	This is the first journal entry I've written since quitting online journaling. Is that a Kerryism? I've taken a sudden interest in this election like a sporting spectator taking to football for the first time. It's fascinating and even dramatic. Kerry's pulling ahead. Fucking great! It's not that I believe so much will change if Kerry wins the presidency, rather it's a sign of optimism, a change of consciousness in this country. For the past three years, since 9/11, we've been a nation in fear and wanting protection and the Bush administration has been there to keep the fear so that policies can be passed that never would have passed otherwise and so that W. will win election again. If Kerry wins, it will be a sign that the people of this country are no longer believing the bullshit and giving in to the illusion of fear ignited by terrorists and perpetuated by the current administration. Kerry is not a savior and doesn't pretend to be. Bush, on the other hand, is still playing the fear and protect card. Scare people and then convince them you are the only one that can save them. He's a pimp (not a pimp daddy). His hand is getting stale and people are starting to call him on it. People's emotions are exhausted and reality is starting to shine through. Amen! (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, October 1st, 2004
7:35 am	Last Regular Journal It's become completely clear to me that I'm going to have to let go of this journal as I've been writing it. I will continue to write a journal or two a week and keep up with friend's journals, but this will no longer be a daily journal. My purpose for writing in this here was to get into the habit of writing, become better with words, and get over my fear of allowing others to read my writing. I've accomplished all of them and now it's time to move on. I don't have to worry about being missed. I wrote about this yesterday in my journal and only one person responded so it's safe to say there aren't many people out there who look forward to reading my journal everyday. Yesterday I felt like I might be letting people down and myself down by quitting. I know I'm not letting myself down because I have to do this if I'm going to get better. I have to do this so I can get to those scary places where I don't even know what will come out. I need the security of knowing that I don't have to show what I write to anyone. I'll probably spend more time reading and commenting on others' journals from now on. This is it, no bang going off, just a simple short journal to say thanks to everyone whoever stopped by to read and comment, even the assholes who made obnoxious comments. It was good entertainment. I'm really very grateful for having been a part of the blogging phenomena and I'm very grateful for the friends I've connected with over the past year through Live Journal. This isn't really a farewell because I'm not going anywhere and like I said, I will journal here from time to time. I'm not ready to give it up entirely. I'm just moving on to something else. Current Mood: grateful (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, September 30th, 2004
6:56 am	My Last Journal Entry? I had another excellent workshop last night. Certain parts of the story of my novel written on pure instinct are connecting with the structure. It's amazing how this happens because I'm not even conscious of it. This is how it's done. You keep writing all these visions and images and suddenly you see how they fit together and you toss out anything that doesn't. Al explained the story structure of the first Rocky and how there are certain things Rocky is unable to do until he overcomes obstacles. I wrote the same thing in my story for my character not even realizing the structure of it. The structure is so true to life and the process people undergo when they really want something, but don't know how to get it. It's beautiful to watch a person struggle for what they want and discover what they need. Mick Jagger even wrote a song about, "You can't always get what you need, but if you try some time, you get what you need." This is the heart of nearly every story, which is why movies fill seats in theaters. We can't get enough. Al told me that I keep stepping right up to the feelings in my story and then jumping to what happens afterward without going through the feelings. He's right and I told him I think my fear is that if I write my feelings without holding back and someone reads it and laughs at me, I'll be humiliated. "People will laugh at you and try to humiliate you. Especially people who don't connect with their feelings because the truth disturbs them and makes them uneasy. They don't know what to do, but make fun of you." Al told me. Then he said that I should stop journaling online. "Why would you do that to yourself?" He asked and he's right. When I write here, I do hold back knowing that anybody can read this. It strengthens the habit of holding back. If I'm to write completely uninhibited, I have to know that I don't have to show it to anyone. I don't want to give up this journal, but I can't refute the truth of what he said. If I'm to move on to a higher level of writing, I can't write within the safety that I'm used to. I've got to write the things that scare me and the things that hurt and I can't do that here. By giving this up, I feel like I'm letting someone down or that I'm letting myself down or the people who read this from time to time. I hate the idea of quitting, but it's not quitting and it's not quitting out of laziness. I'm not ready to quit today. Habits aren't easy to let go of. I may stop writing here daily and just write once or twice a week about where I am and what I'm doing. I've been through so much with this journal the past year. It's connected me to people I wouldn't have known otherwise and it got me a job writing for 'Take 2 Magazine'. I guess I feel like an ingrate if I stop. But I am so grateful for everything this journal has brought me. My writing has grown so much since I started, but like clothing, I may have outgrown it and it may be holding back further growth. It served a purpose and now it's time to let it go. I'm famous for staying in bad situations too long or drawing something out past it's time refusing to let it go. Letting go of live journal might just be the thing that helps me to understand this or maybe it won't. I think I like to write here because writing is a lonely business and writing here feels like someone is listening. Even if no one is, at least there's that possibility and it's comforting, perhaps too comforting. I write because I want to be understood and yet I don't understand myself. Live journal is my attempt to make others understand me. It's my way of trying to connect with my feelings and express them. However, I'm afraid of my feelings and I often shove them aside. I want people to know how I feel and I don't even know how I feel. I want to be loved and accepted and I'm not sure I love and accept myself sometimes. I pride myself on being honest, but honesty is tainted by want. I want things to be a certain way so I make it my truth, but no one can make truth. Truth is all around waiting to be accepted by anyone willing and it's to our benefit entirely to accept and yet I still hold fast and tightly to this thing, this thing I cannot figure out even though I know there's nothing to figure out. I'm afraid of not having an audience. I'm afraid of being lonely and having no company while I write. I want assurance that what I'm doing is working and it's good. This is why I write on live journal. Kevin and 'Take 2 Magazine' now provides me with an audience and the fact that I'm a published and paid writer should be all the assurance I need. It's time to go beyond loneliness and insecurity. It's time to dip so far below the surface that I get lost and I drown and then float to the surface again. I'm treading water right now, afraid to let myself sink, but I know it's what I have to do or get out of the water and give it up. I'm not good at making harsh decisions right-away. I usually have to get so worn out that I can't keep up the effort to keep things the way they are. Honestly, I cannot imagine that this is my last journal entry. It could be, but I don't like to make definite decisions about the future. I'm just not sure. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but the answer will come to me. I know it will. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
7:04 am	I just received and e-mail from Kevin, editor and creator of 'Take 2 Magazine' informing me that the magazine is really taking off and that I'll be receiving my first paycheck for the articles I've written next month. This is a goal achieved and I'm so happy. Finally I've been published and paid for it. It may not seem a huge deal to others, but I've wanted this for a long time and it makes my longer term, bigger goals appear more possible. Sometimes things in life really do work out. The more balance I have, the more I allow what I want into my life. You can only do so much and then step back and let it all fall into place. It can be nerve-wrecking, but it's part of the discipline, the discipline of watching. Listening is important too. It's something I have to re-learn all the time. How often do we just listen without thinking of what we're going to say next? Sometimes it seems the chatter in my head is incessant and there's nothing I can do about it. Now I meditate to silence it. Meditation is listening and watching with no expectation. It's quite relaxing and helpful. It can be difficult because I'm so used to putting effort into everything I do and meditation is the absence of effort. Effort is just divided energy. When you can approach something with complete wholeness, even if it's just sitting on a pillow, the awareness of energy that comes is profound and unceasing. I meet with Al today and I'm going to tell him my story for the seven-hundred millionth time and see what he thinks. I'm actually hoping he has something to question me about because I feel my story is missing something or that I can go deeper with it, but I'm not sure what it is. I may just have to really start cracking at the first draft and see what comes. I looked over the pages that I had written, my second attempt at the first draft, and some of it I really like. Last night Kim and I had dinner with our neighbors and watched a movie called, "Mean Girls". It's one of those high school teenage genre movies that came out last year I think. There were some really funny moments. The story was nothing new, but the tried and tested structure it followed carried it through to the end. I guess this was my neighbors idea of dessert because this movie is candy compared to the heavy flicks I'm used to watching, but I can enjoy the light stuff too. While watching it, I could see where they could have taken the story much deeper. But I wasn't disappointed because it didn't. The movie was made to entertain a mainstream audience and I think such an audience would feel as though they got their money's worth and that's the intent the film was made from. I'm less judgmental of the business side of film these days. Films make money and who am I to judge anyone who wants to make money and use film to do it? There's nothing sacred about the medium. The expression of something real in a film is what I feel is sacred. When you see two actors having a moment or when you feel the story rather than figure it out, that's sacred. That's what the art of film is about and nothing can touch that. I can be quite critical of films and people love to tell me so. Maybe I am, but I don't watch movies looking for what's wrong with it. What would be the point? I'm not going to pay money to have a miserable experience. Miserable people always focus on what's wrong with everything. I'm prone to harsh mood swings and irritability, but a miserable person I am not. Anyway, I don't find things wrong with films, rather, films fall apart in front of me. If I feel the director is trying to convince me of something or exploit my sympathies, I'm ready to point my middle finger at the screen. Sorry, that's just me. I love watching films where I forget about time, structure, and all those things that keep reminding me that I'm watching a film. It doesn't have to be an independent film and it doesn't have to be a "high brow" intellectual film either. I'm starting to dislike the label 'intellectual'. I used to like it when people called me that and I think it encouraged me to pursue intellectualism even more, but who cares about intellect if you can't even express a feeling? Intellect has very little to do with telling a great story or being able to recognize a great story. Intellect is really something on the surface, but stories come from a depth that few people are willing to go to find. They're called artists though the term is over used and too many posers proudly wear the label like a badge on a jacket. True artists often hate the term understandably. Artists are like explorers diving down in the ocean to depths that most people are too scared to go because it's dark and unfamiliar. They wait at the banks for the explorers to re-surface to find out what's down there. I decided awhile back that I'm no longer content to be a spectator. I want to be in the game. I want to explore. Sometimes the work feels too hard. Sometimes I want to go back to being just an observer, but I know the reward is coming. The reward is resurfacing and knowing that it's only for air because I'm going right back down again. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 28th, 2004
6:51 am	No Distance I wrote an intense letter to my father yesterday about my feelings on his incessant procrastination when it comes to visiting me out here. I haven't sent it yet because I need to rewrite it. It should be ready today. The best writing I've ever done and what made me think I could be a writer when I finally decided it is what I really wanted to do, started with writing letters. I started writing letters to my father because he couldn't argue or say "no" to paper. Reading makes a person think about what's being said before they react. I wrote letters to be understood and to make requests. Letters always brought greater understanding and my requests were honored 90% of the time. My father found them humorous and well written. I didn't know if he was laughing at me at first because I never tried to make them funny or even to write them well, it just came out that way. I started writing letters to everyone, girlfriends, friends, whoever I wanted to understand me better and most of the time it worked. When I write letters I just say it so easily. Here or when I'm writing in my novel, it just doesn't come out the same. I've even thought, as an exercise, pretending my novel is a letter to someone, but novels are very complex and require more work than that. They're tough. The letter I wrote my father is 1400 words. I wrote it in less than an hour and I hardly have to rewrite anything. How do I merge that ability into my other writings? What makes them so different? The only thing I can think that's different is I know my father, myself, and the situation very well, therefore all I have to do is just write what I think and feel. Fiction takes really getting to know your characters and your story and why you're telling the story. It takes exploring the roots of uncomfortable feelings so that you can sift through and get rid of the unimportant details and understand the important ones even better. It's harder for me to express myself in this journal than the letters I write, which may be because I don't write letters unless I have something to say. I write here even when I have nothing to say at all. Also, anyone can read this unlike a personal letter. Maybe my fingers cramp a little knowing that I'm exposing myself here to anyone with internet access. I've done so much writing since I've been in LA. I've probably done more writing this past year than I have all my life. My words are definitely getting stronger and so is my syntax and articulation. I can see it in the letter I wrote. I sense it when I speak. It comes more natural and less controlled. Sometimes I fantasize about what I want and if I really want it then I'll seriously look at it and plan for it. However, from time to time, what I call a vision makes itself known to me. I don't call them fantasies because fantasies are purely a creation of the mind for my titillation. Visions are visual predictions without the conscious use of reasoning. They are the imaginary manifestations that indicate what's to come if I continue in the direction I'm going. They seem to appear on their own. Lately I'm having visions of being a full time writer, writing novels and screenplays, selling them, and having a successful career. I take it one step further and fantasize about a producer asking me to direct one of my screenplays. It will come. I have to deal with where I'm at now though. I'm not the technical kind so I don't see story telling through a camera lens yet. I see it on the page first. I'm sure as I master the craft of screenwriting, I will start having visions of directing my screenplays as films. I've wasted too much time thinking I could just be a filmmaker without fulfilling the calling of being a writer first. I love film, but I am writing. Finally I'm starting to accept where I am and starting to accept my voice. Fantasy is no longer my greatest source of fuel. I'm seeing real possibilities lately, but my focus is on the work for now. The possibilities are just possibilities. If I chase them, they hide. If I do the work, the possibilities turn into reality, no added effort needed. People ask me, "Why are you not networking, finding an agent, going to industry parties, etc.?" because I'm not there. I'm not resisting these things, but I'm nowhere near them. When the work is ready, there will be agents waiting, the networking will take place and the parties will invite me. I'm not saying everything will be handed to me. Hard, sincere, creative work creates gravity and attracts objects to one another. Am I moving toward it or is it moving toward me, no one can say. How can such a thing be judged? If there are two spheres suspended in complete emptiness and one moves to toward the other, with no point of comparison, who can say which sphere is moving toward the other? This is an example Alan Watts uses in one of his books. What it means, in the way that I'm using it, is that I don't see myself as a center and I don't see the book/film industry as a center. Therefore, for me to get there takes no conscious effort to move toward it or to try to pull it to me. I must become the industry rather than try to close distance. It's like the question, "how is one supposed to live?" First answer, "how does one not live and ask that question?" We're here and that's all the purpose we need. Any attempt to look further or up or down or outside of oneself, whatever that means, will lead to depression and anxiety. An invalid search cannot lead someone to the truth. I have so much to say and I'm gradually gaining the strength to say it. This squeaky, nasal, monotone voice is starting to sing and this rhythm-less body is starting to dance. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, September 27th, 2004
6:55 am	"Everything happens for a reason." Does it now or do things happen and then we make up reasons why they happened? I can't say how many times I've heard people say the above statement and I can't say when was the first time I heard it. And worst of all, I've probably said it myself a time or two. What a trite statement it is. It's completely empty and meaningless. It has no reason. It's what people say when they're trying to sound mystical or intellectual balanced with the slightly spiritual. Kim and I were watching t.v. last night and happened to land on the Real World. Yeah, we were really bored. One of the roommates of the house told the camera, "Everything happens for a reason." Of the millions of times I've heard people say it, it usually glides right by me. However, this time, I cringed. It sounded like a buzz saw going off in my ear. Isn't the wonder and the mystery of life that there is no "reason" for coincidences, chance encounters, or those times that everything just fits together like a jigsaw puzzle with seemingly little or no effort? When you bring reason into it, it destroys that mystery. The ability to reason is just a tool that humans have gained over the course of evolution. There is no reason for the sun rising, the earth rotating, grass growing, etc. It just does and then we slap reason on it and make something beautiful into a series of explanations that never capture essence. We can try to explain away anything, putting reason before life and the present moment, but we'll never be satisfied with explanations because they're never enough. Explanations can never be the thing, so we're left with observation, which is far more satisfying when we allow ourselves the time. Reasoning has it's place. It can help us understand mechanisms and how things work so that we can be more efficient as a society or a business, etc, but to many people and I've been one of them, reason is a religion. And like religion, if the system is all you can see, it will fail you. The search for God is a reasonable search in an unreasonable world. We can explain many "hows", but we can't explain a single "why" because all "whys" come from one big "why". Why do we exist? We'll never know because this is not a world built on reason. It's like asking a rock why it doesn't want to soften up a little. I saw the documentary, SUPER SIZE ME over the weekend. It's really good. One of the segments focused on the obesity of Americans, which is astounding, about sixty percent of the population. They interviewed this sixteen year old girl who must of weighed over three hundred pounds. She and her mother went to listen to Jared, I think his name is- the guy who lost all the weight eating subway- give a talk about. The girl said that it was an inspiration to see him and to know it is possible to lose weight and be healthy, but she gave every reason why she couldn't do it. She said that she can't afford to eat at Subway everyday and that she doesn't have time to prepare meals and on and on. People lose weight and get healthy all the time without Subway and without having to spend extra money. The problem this girl has is not an eating problem as much as a problem with what she believes is possible. Jared's example was presented to her as a paradigm to lose the weight and she rejected it thinking that it's the only way and that way doesn't fit her life. Logic and reasoning tell her that this may work for others, but not me. I learned a lot watching that segment because so often in my endeavors I've felt lost and talked to others to find out what they did under similar circumstances and I took there example to be "the way" or the only way. There is no "way" unless you're looking back retrospectively. We make our way or our path as we go and if we follow someone else's and it doesn't work out, then that's just the chance we take when we imitate. It takes a very narrow focus to get lost. What I need is always staring me right in the face, but my focus is too narrow and it will all change if I just open myself to the infinite possibilities offered constantly. There seems to be a new fad diet everyday popping up in commercials and on the news. Since I'm a dilettante when it comes to this stuff, people ask me questions about diet all the time. They want to know if diet xyz really works and would I recommend it as if this may be the secret diet that is the answer to everything. Diets are like religions, they all have a piece of the truth and most all of them will work, but unless you realize that what you eat is not a separate entity (a diet) then you'll probably never stick with eating well. A healthy diet works on one principle, balance and efficiency. It's not complicated at all. It doesn't matter the foods you eat as long as you're getting the number of calories needed to maintain a healthy body weight while getting all the nutrition needed so that the body is not deficient or malnourished. Balance carbs, protein, and fats however your body responds the best, usually equal amounts of all three, and you're good. People fear counting calories, which is somewhat understandable. But if you're eating low calorie, nutrient dense food and you're not eating more than your fill, then you probably don't have to worry about number of calories consumed per day. I think the hardest part for people is knowing what healthy foods are and advertising I think is to blame for this one. I've seen products with labels saying how healthy it is and nothing could be further from the truth. This is where it gets complicated. However, vegetables and fruit are always healthy. They've been around forever and they always work. I'm so tempted to delete everything I just wrote. I feel like I've been on a soapbox for the past half-hour. Maybe I just had to get this one out of my system. If someone wants to read this and it sucks, that's there problem. I'm not charging admission and I haven't made any promises. "Change Your Life By Eating My Words! They're Low Calorie And Nutrient Dense! Lose Ten Pounds By Tomorrow While You Sleep Without Exercise!" (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 26th, 2004
8:06 am	Zen Morning I just checked the date of when I started this journal. I've been at this one month shy of a year. How very much life has changed since then. No regrets and I'm happy to say I've learned so much. I feel as though I'm more open to learning and more open to life's changes than ever before. New Orleans is a small world and things are done a certain way. Growing up in a place like that, it's easy to assume that the rest of the world works similarly, but I have found otherwise. It's something you won't realize until you've lived somewhere for several months. I've been to Europe four times and there are very obvious differences in the way people live there, but the inner workings aren't realized until you reside in a place for longer than just visit. It's funny to watch my friend Mark struggle with the differences of New Orleans to LA. He's not having a terribly difficult time, but his resistance to the differences are obvious. Certain things irritate him about LA, many of those same irritations I've learned to get over. There's always this little voice inside us when we go somewhere unfamiliar that thinks we have it right and everyone else has it wrong. Until that voice disappears, you will do nothing and go nowhere and the place will remain unfamiliar. Obviously it's pointless to use relative terms in comparing cities like "better" or "right", but change is difficult and can lead one to harsh generalizations and a myopic perspective. When Mark first arrived, he asked me if I found it true that everyone who gets somewhere in this town has to bullshit their way. My opinion was that bullshit could get you in the door, but then you better have something real to show. He asked me if I thought sincerity and hard work could get a person there in this town. My response was that the sincere hardworking approach is probably a longer route, but one that is more certain and probably more satisfying. And you can't just be a hard worker, you have to put your sincerity and hard work out there for everyone to see. No one's going to ask you for it. However, when you put it out there, you risk losing it because you're tempted to bullshit when seeking attention and approval. No one said this would be easy. I know that I'm the type to do the work and then hope someone notices. I don't like grabbing people and demanding there attention and I tend to be very protective about my work. It would be pointless at this time to look for an agent or to gain interest from producers because everything I've done has been experimental projects for my own development. My work thus far has been too personal for audiences to get and enjoy. I'm a little self-centered and I have to work through some repressed feelings and emotions before I can share and I'm getting there faster than ever now. Al told me that his agent often gives talks to students at UCLA and they always ask him how they should go about finding an agent. His agent always tells them they need to do the work first. That seems so obvious, but this simple principle eludes students with filmmaking fantasies. I was one of them. Al told me that when you create a body of work, which most often takes people years and the work is sincere, people will seek you and your work. When you really do your work, it begins to overflow and people catch wind of it and you start putting it out there because you don't know what else to do with it, but give it away. No wonder patience is so important in the endeavor of art. We read about young artists who shoot to the top over night and we dream of doing the same. However, most often these artists don't last and if they do, it usually has to do with having mastered their craft and the security that comes with that. If somehow I had struck gold on my first, second, third, or even my feature attempt and became rich and famous in my early twenties, I would be in a world of pain right now. I have trouble with the pressure that comes with sitting down every day to write. I can't even imagine what the pressure must be like when people are expecting you to create a masterpiece of equal or greater quality as the one you made before and you don't even know what the fuck you're doing. I don't want to think in terms of time, because it can be a real mind fuck, but I'm realizing more and more that if I really want to master something, I have to forget about end results and 'how long'. It could take years to really feel and know that I'm accomplished, which has nothing to do with what other people think of my work. It has to come from a knowing within that you are being completely honest with yourself. The one thing in my life that I have that confidence with is my relationship with Kim. We are nearly six years strong and people challenge us all the time with the marriage issue and the age difference and whatever else miserable people try to come up with to let us know that we're not as happy as we look. Our relationship may end tomorrow or twenty years from now and it may last for ever. Time has no relevance here. We're honest with each other and don't put traditional expectations on each other. The only expectations we have has more to do with household chores and the business of sharing space with another person. The core of the relationship is sharing and giving because we want to, not because we're trying to fulfill a role or each others idea of what a man and a woman are supposed to be in a relationship. If I'm insecure about something, I'm not going to find security in someone else. I have to find it within. People try to own other people because they're insecure. Trying to own someone means being unable to appreciate that person as a person. In other words, you can't love something you want to own or think you own. Most often people despise what they believe they own because it doesn't always do exactly as they want. Trying to own something with a mind is dangerous even if it's just a dog or a cat. Parents often try to own their kids and the consequences are long term and detrimental. The more we realize we have nothing and own nothing, the more capable of love we are. Love is not romanticism. Love is acknowledging that differences and separation are illusions. Love is knowing that we are a part of everything and really feeling that. I've had moments where I've touched Kim and could not discern whether I was touching or being touched. Current Mood: awake (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 25th, 2004
4:00 pm	Infinity It's been a total meltdown starting yesterday evening and going on all day so far. I don't even know if I care to go into it. We shall see I can only guess, as I write this journal. The good part is that the crises I'm dealing with are many microscopic crises and not life and death. I'm keeping my sense of humor as I watch everything I touch turn to shit. Kim is doing it too. Maybe it's our karma. Tomorrow will be a better day. I usually associate feeling well to having a good day, but today I felt wonderful physically and mentally and still managed to hit every dead-end at every corner I turned. I will not turn this journal into a bitch session. I already did my bitching and found that it didn't interest me much so I let it go. Bitching takes a lot of effort. It often acts as a buffer when trying to avoid what you know you have to do. Fuck it. Let's just get it over with without the noise and the melodrama. I'm still grappling with the money thing, but I have plenty of private parties to work in October and I'm hoping for more. Tonight I had a private party scheduled until it was canceled at the last minute. They called yesterday to hire me for tonight and then about six hours later canceled. It came quickly and unexpectedly and left me the same. All I can say really is that life here is gaining momentum. My finances are improving despite the many troubles I'm having and my writing is really improving. I find my thoughts becoming clearer, more complete, and more precise, which I can only attribute to all the writing I do. The words come faster and I don't waste as much time censoring myself before I speak. The more I express with words, the more comfortable I am with them and my voice, wherever that thing is. Reflections aren't as painful. I'm used to my own image now. It doesn't frighten me like it used to. Everything is a process and it never happens as fast as I want. The patience I've come to know in the past year astounds me. It was either be patient or shoot myself because I want so much and I want it now. In fact, I want it so bad I find myself foregoing my needs for what I want. Putting want above need is the classic American problem these days, the result of too much marketing and advertising I opine. When we appreciate the little things in life, they're not so little anymore. It's not that they're little, rather, they are overlooked because it's all around us all the time. But we keep trying to reach the next level. What else? What else is there? What else can I stuff my face with, pour down my throat, put up my ass, wrap my body in, or lay my eyes upon? With a broader consciousness, comes greater responsibility and by responsibility I don't mean liability as so many people use the term. Responsibility is a cuss word these days unless you've been wronged and you're pointing at the cause. How creative we become when we can't deal with the mess we create. Responsibility is about responding to life. The more life and freedom one has, the more responsibility he has. It's liberating, but to visualize it, we only see it as baggage so we expend countless hours and energy trying to avoid it. We tie knots in ourselves thinking only of the quick fix or that ignoring it will make it go away and then we wonder why we have so many problems and can't see a way out. We're dead that's why. We're mud-dwellers doing just enough to get by consuming the leftovers from those who choose to me life's demands. I don't even care or know where I'm going with all this. I don't mean to be critical of myself or anyone else. Like I said before, I rush the process. I'm waking up and I just want it to happen quicker. I'm waking up at a rate faster than it took me to descend and I'm grateful for that. Pain is nothing and so are obstacles unless I blow them up or choose to see them through a microscope preventing myself from seeing everything else. It's all about the choices Bobby De Nero once said. The more choices we see, the more possibilities open up for us and the more we see the world as William Blake once wrote, "infinite." Current Mood: recumbent (Comment on this)
Friday, September 24th, 2004
6:59 am	Evlolution Southern California has brilliant sunsets and sunrises. Yesterday, driving home from work, all I could see were silhouettes of palm trees against a blue and pink sky behind scattered clouds orange with warmth from the sun. It was spectacular. You just don't see that anywhere else. Sunsets like that are a reminder that this place is the edge of the world, where the sun finally sets. I've got to take a new approach to everything in my life. I've got to start loving everything I do even if it's petty and menial. I can't ride this discipline trip any longer. I have the discipline to accomplish anything I want. I've proved that to myself over and over, but I'm missing the passion. Discipline is all I've known this far and it's what I resort to in crisis. The crisis is over now and the only thing that can save me is creativity. I can't keep this intense focus up much longer before hurting myself or others around me. I'm not going to even ask 'how' to go about doing this. It's already there if I'm willing to loosen up. I've got to make mistakes especially the ones I fear most and not even blink. If I have to drive this thing right into a brick wall, then I'll do it. Then everyone will at least know that I've arrived. I seem to be short on words this morning, either too distracted or I haven't woken up yet. I've been going to bed later and later lately and still waking up at the same time. I'll make up for it tomorrow morning. No, that won't happen. I have to take Mark to the airport. He's going back to shoot some "bling bling" videos in New Orleans. I'll just have to make up for the rest when I'm dead. It'll be nice to have the apartment back to ourselves for awhile. We have lost some privacy since he's been around, but that's expected with the addition of any person in an apartment no matter how easy going or innocuous he is. My brain signals must be jammed. It's taking me several minutes just to put together a sentence or two and I'm not even hung over. Okay, the new discipline is to undiscipline myself or rather to broaden my focus when under pressure. When I'm under pressure, people have told me I look so intense I could make people's heads explode just by staring at them, like Scanners. The discipline now is letting go at the most crucial moment and not doubting myself. I have to let myself take over without question or control. Everything I need to approach and make the most of any situation is already in me. I don't need more schooling or training. I know what's up and down and if I ever lose track it's because I'm flailing my arms trying to grab on to something not there. Something will catch me. I can't catch myself any more than I can pick myself up by my feet. I'm just here, an active member of the universe. The squirrel patrol is out and about. I see them from my window. Middle-aged women, a rarity in West Hollywood, and gay men walking their dogs early in the morning encountering the early squirrel before he gets an acorn. They walk up and down the street and the squirrels torment the leashed animals by waving their tails at them knowing dogs can't climb trees. But it doesn't stop them from trying and barking loud enough to disturb everyone. Dogs will be dogs. What would these full-bred pedigree dogs do with a squirrel anyway? They're on better diets than I am and so have their ancestors for the past century. Would they even have a taste for wild gamey meat and blood? It's just the hunting instinct that hasn't evolved out of them. As soon as the domestic dog forgets how to hunt, there will be a fall in civilization and the poor dogs will be left without an owner to feed them and an instinct to hunt for food. The same thing is happening to us. I wonder what civilization is costing us and what the consequences might be regarding our evolution and instincts if it breaks down. I wonder what happened in Rome when they fell. A fall in civilization would be cataclysmic at first, but then it would open up an opportunity for something completely new to sprout, perhaps something better. This seems to be what anarchists are interested in. However, I can't agree with the anarchist movement because it has an agenda. You can't force civilization to fall without imposing a new authority, which negates anarchism. The fall would have to happen by its own progression without a conscious purpose to start over. Current Mood: blank (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, September 23rd, 2004
6:45 am	Emptiness We broke down Al's script in the workshop last night and suddenly structure makes more sense than it ever did. It doesn't seem so arbitrary anymore. I've got a better grasp of my story now, which means all that I've written so far may be just another false start. I hate to call it a false start because I did go deeper into the story with what I wrote, but now I can go a lot deeper by letting it go. Some of it is probably still usable or can be used to rewrite, but I'm stepping back again. It needs more development or "filling the well" as Al puts it. The first time this happened, I was so crushed. I felt like Al had destroyed my story, but honestly I knew that my story just wasn't tight enough. I've given myself a lot of stress over it. However, this time around, I didn't need Al to destroy my story. I saw right through the petty details I held onto for dear life because I had nothing else. Now I'm not afraid to clear away the garbage and once again allow the story in. I'm still feeling fairly lost, but lost is a good place. Lost means I'm ready to listen, which is something I don't do enough of. My brain is always chattering about something. I think I'm lonely and the chatter is a way to keep myself company. How is it I'm lonely? Loneliness has nothing to do with having supportive people around me or the lack of. When I feel like no one understands me, I retreat within myself, to a voice that chatters incessantly. The voice fears silence because then I might acknowledge my emptiness. There's nothing wrong with emptiness or what I consider empty. Empty is the state of everything in between matter. All of us have emptiness within us. From that emptiness we absorb, learn, and deal with the absurdities of life. Emptiness is an integral part of our being and the more we try to fill it with illusions, money, objects, attention, etc., the more depressed we become when finally we're exhausted from trying to fill it and give up. When I used to do various drugs, especially the seratonin secreting speedy ones, I would get so depressed when I came down because while I was high, I forgot about my emptiness. Instead of being grateful for what I felt as I came down, I would become angry and depressed because I wanted it back and couldn't have it. I wanted to forget again. I think that when we truly see that the emptiness is just a part of us like anything else, then the emptiness goes away because empty has a relationship to solid. Emptiness cannot be empty on its own. There has to be something next to it in order for it to be judged as empty. I am the emptiness. I couldn't move if I were solid through and through and if I were complete emptiness, I wouldn't be sitting here typing. I guess that's it. I'm afraid of disappearing, fading off into nothingness. Sounds silly, I know, but fear is silly. It takes us to silly places and makes asses of us. Just look at where this country is going. Life is really great, even when I don't see it. It's great without needing me to categorize it as so and it's still great even when I blind myself with hate and anger. I just have to let these emotions play themselves out. I can't govern them. It doesn't do any good. I fear letting go because I'm afraid what this person would do if all inhibitions suddenly dissolved. I grew up under a lot of emotional repression and I'm afraid that some of these old bottled up emotions might explode like a basement full of forgotten gunpowder. I think of people like Jim Morrison who's upbringing was very strict like mine. When he let loose, his expressions reached mythical proportions, but he came unglued in the end. Is that what I'm really afraid of? Do I not trust myself enough to keep it together if I let go? I am afraid of becoming an alcoholic even though I drink far less than I ever did. I'm afraid of hurting people around me. It's surprising to realize that I don't trust myself completely without the illusion that I supervise myself. Who's in control here? No matter how I look at it, it's just me. No matter how I divide myself, it's just me. I don't need supervision. I'm just so goddamned fearful of making mistakes though. The demands I put on myself, my plans, the processes I go through hoping that when I get to the other end- when I get "there", is all an attempt to be here. I'm searching for fulfillment in the future when everything will be perfect. But fulfillment is only possible right now. It's not unusual for me to demand the impossible from myself. My parents demanded it from me ever since I can remember. I've picked up where they left off, comparing myself to an image that does not exist and cannot exist sometimes rejecting it and sometimes embracing it, but always feeling the pain of never being it. It's so simple, yet it seems so impossible. All I have to do is be. I don't have to do anything other than see that "I am" and can be nothing else. What could be easier than this? Of all the effort and time I've spent trying to be myself, trying to discover me and I've been here all the time probably laughing at myself for all the struggle I've spent trying to prove something that has never been questioned by anyone other than me. I exist! Stop trying to fucking prove it! Current Mood: contemplative (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 22nd, 2004
7:17 am	Inspiration Well once again my bank fucked up, acknowledged it and apologized and I'm thinking, 'Yeah, one more time and I'm pulling my account.' It's is the break point of the week again and I'm still alive. I was talking to my friend Mark last night who's a cinematographer from New Orleans staying with me until he gets work here. "Do you ever have doubts about what you're doing?" I asked and I barely finished the question when he answered, "Yes! All the time." I think he had been waiting to express his doubts for some time now, but didn't want to sound like he was whining or complaining. We talked about our doubts and then we both agreed that we don't know what else we would do. He knows cinematography and making films. I love writing and making films. I can't work at bartending school for the rest of my life, not even if I were making a decent enough salary. What I really want in life is to master a craft and be so good at it that I can make a good living with it. Mark and I both agreed that everything else we try gets boring after awhile and we keep gravitating back to film. Storytelling is so complex that you can take it as far and deep as you want to go. Some people may enjoy their monotonous factory jobs, but you can take menial tasks only so far. I'd prefer that my livelihood also be a source of fulfillment. Writing and making films are endless. Everyone has their own story and it's up to them how interested they are, which reflects how interesting their story will be. You don't have to have a wild adventurous life to write a wild and adventurous story. It helps, but great story telling has to do with how willing the teller is willing to dip into his humanity and express it honestly. I read Alan's screenplay, my mentor, yesterday that Paul Schrader wants to direct. It's really good. He really knows how to tie up the end of his stories. The timing and structure came off so un-calculated and so non-predetermined that I never gave it any thought. By the end of most films, you can predict what's going to happen even if it's a "whodunit". But this screenplay takes you right to the edge and makes you wait for the story to catch up with itself leaving the reader anxious and wanting more. Finally it ends and it's so real and right, yet it couldn't be predicted. I imagine Al didn't know how it would end right up until he wrote it either. I really hope it gets made into a film. It definitely deserves it. Billy Chrystal might be interested in starring in it and I think he would work well, but a slightly younger Jack Nicholson would be perfect for the role. I should be jealous of Al for writing such a great story, but I'm inspired more than anything else. It's a great thing that I sit with this guy every week and that he helps me pull my own story out of my tense grip. Reading his screenplay is perhaps one of the greatest lessons he's ever taught me and he doesn't even know it. His writing lets me know just how possible it is to write something great. Being an insatiable reader, I've read crap and I've read brilliance, but something about the words being printed on a page is credibility in my eyes. Being published credits an author even if he sucks. But when the writing is brilliant, I tend to put the author in the realm of superhuman, not even of this earth. Even writers that aren't my favorite, but who's skill I must acknowledge are otherworldly to me. I don't think this is a healthy way to think especially if I aspire to be a writer. I don't feel otherworldly and superhuman and no matter how good I become, such outrageous standards for myself will prevent me from ever reaching my true potential. Sitting with Al every week and realizing how very human and normal he is, is a lesson for me. He's really not much different than me. Looking at my situation as if I'm up against impossible odds will prevent me from ever doing what I really want. The attitude of "me against the world" that so many, even successful people, have adopted is silly and melodramatic. In a sense, everyone who is living is "them" against the world. We face obstacles everyday, but the world always provides us with what we need to overcome the obstacles even when we don't see it so how is it the world is against us? I'm still here and so is everyone else. The world is in our favor and has even instilled in us drives and instincts that lead us to what we need. I torture myself so often and usually blame my environment, which is just another way of blaming myself. When will I see and know for certain that there's nothing to blame because I'm given everything I could ever need? Some things I want don't work out and it's easy to imagine some force (Christians call it evil or the Devil) working against me and I have to fight a great battle to get what I want. It's all nonsense. Nature can't work against itself and we are nature. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 21st, 2004
6:59 am	Die Parasites Die! I feel crippled. My bank continues to fuck my world over. All I'm trying to do is make payments on my credit cards and my bank keeps stopping the payments and my credit cards keep jacking their interest rates higher and higher because the payments aren't on time. I'm ready to kill someone. Once I get on top of my finances and pay my debt, I will never own another credit card again and I will never put myself in a position where I owe a bank money. This is no way to live and banks are not your friend. They don't call up offering you money because they think you're a good person or even because they believe you're reliable. Banks are like casinos, they target the people who are desperate because they know they'll be stuck paying for the rest of their lives. If they can get you down to a low enough place, then all you can pay is the interest and that's exactly their intention. Why would they want you to pay it back when they can take your money every month while holding the debt over your head? It's criminal. We suck because we're naive enough to go along on this merry-go-round and they're bastards for pimping us. They're not much different than drug pushers. My plans to get out of debt before were quite serious, now it's a matter of life and death. I can't go on this way. I'd rather be dead. I was just telling Kim last night that more than being a writer or a filmmaker or having wealth, I want to work for myself and not have a boss. The independence of making a living on my own is so freeing. It's true living and I'm going to make it happen. I don't even have to make it happen. I just have to let it happen and it will. It's a need inherent in my nature and I'm already gravitating to it. If I'm going to be poor, then I would rather be poor and not be a bitch. I'd rather pinch pennies than have "stuff" and have to give all my money to banks and credit card companies. I'm so eager to run over to Bank Of America and start ringing some necks. I want to hear their explanation for this, but it's doubtful they'll do anything about my late credit card payment. They're going to know just how pissed I am though. And my credit card company will probably not give a shit when I tell them that I honestly made the payment on time. All they want to do is slap me with more fees and push my interest rates up. Fuck them. It's lovely that I get to wake up to this. It's all I can think about so here I am, it's all I can write about and that stinks. This is proof that once my debts are paid, much of my torment will be resolved. I will certainly have peace of mind when this is over. I try to distance myself from all this bullshit by looking at it as the game that it is, like a life-size version of Monopoly. Sometimes you're up and sometimes you go directly to jail without getting paid, but I still have my life, my health, and my family. Oh and I know if the banks could take those as collateral they would. I'm not so sure about my family anymore. I think my parents deny that I've even left. They think I'm on vacation or something and I'll be home soon enough. What's the point in coming out here to visit when I'll be right back were they want me before they know it? They don't realize the commitment and sacrifice that I've already put into living here, not to mention the sacrifices I will make in the future. I'm in and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I can't live for anyone else anymore and I can't live being so conscious of my desires. I can't live with this pressure I put on myself. It hasn't done anything for me. I'm disciplined dammit! Do I need to prove it to myself again? It's time to move on to the art of living. The discipline of living is solid. It's not going anywhere. Now, where did all the wonder go? All I'm left with are statements telling me what I owe. What happen to the party, the life I was promised? It's my fault for ever believing the hype. I'm responsible for believing that going to college would somehow secure me financially, not that I regret going. I'm responsible for believing the scary stories my parents told me as a child about heaven and hell that, even though I stopped being Catholic at sixteen, still haunt me to this day. It's my responsibility that I ever bought into self-imposed guilt. I chose to divide myself by dreaming of a life other than this one instead of making this one everything I dreamed. I'm not starting with a clean slate. I'm not going to pretend things I don't like never happened and things I want haven't. It's not a question of what I want rather the question is 'why do I want?' Half the time 'want' has put me in deeper debt than fulfilling that want could pay off. The other half has fulfilled some needs. So why not just fulfill the needs and stop bothering with want. I can't ignore my wants, that would only be another want. I want, so what and who cares what I want? 'Want' is what these bloodsucking creditor parasites feed on. You don't need a new car. You don't need that loan. It's a fucked up thing that this society is more focused on their wants than their needs. I guess that's what happens when capitalism becomes a religion. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, September 20th, 2004
6:59 am	Cold Morning It's actually a little chilly this morning. I forgot that it does get cold in fall when the sun goes down this far east. Fall has really sneaked up on me. The summer passed so quickly. I'm use to the brutal summers in New Orleans that never seem to end. After a summer in South Louisiana, it always felt like I had turned a corner in my life like I survived an uncomfortable ordeal. I'm not looking forward to the cold dreariness of winter here, but at least I'll be in better spirits this time around. It must sound odd to be talking about cold dreariness in LA, but it does get cold and wet here, sometimes for weeks. Everyone told me it was an unusual winter this past one, but I think winters almost anywhere even Southern California can suck. Kim, Mark, and I went over to the neighbors last night to watch TV and have whiskey sours. My neighbor is a skateboarder and quite enthusiastic about it. He does graphic design for a skateboarding magazine out here. He popped in a film that I knew about, but had never seen. I had heard about it because it had won awards at Sundance Film Festival. It' called something like 'Dogtown Z Boys'. It's about skateboarding of course, more specifically about the revolution that created the style in which skaters skate today. Dogtown is in Venice Beach, right down the road from me. The Z in 'Z Boys' stood for Zephyr. The film is a documentary that covers some history of Venice Beach and surfing and skateboarding. I've never been into skateboarding, but this documentary is really good. I always appreciate history when it's told well no matter the subject. It's really fascinating the way they illustrate the tribal dynamic of surfing and skateboarding. It was and probably still is quite territorial. Especially when towns are poverty stricken, people group up for protection. No matter how civilized we think we are, we are animals and have the instincts to prove it. I'm still cold. I think it's cramping me up a bit because I don't feel as though my thoughts are really reaching the words or words to thoughts. Too much activity in the brain and not enough in the gut I suppose. I've had a few bouts of homesickness recently. I think I'm finally starting to realize that I'm here and I'm not going back there to live for a long time, if ever. My family doesn't realize this, I don't think. Though I've told them, it hasn't sunk in. It's just finally sinking in for me now. It'll take them another year at least. Living in LA has changed me in ways that aren't so noticeable to people even those who haven't seen me since I left. But extreme changes in people in a short period often aren't real changes anyway. Alcoholics who put down the drink usually haven't changed the first time they quit. They're just taking a break. Change is most often subtle. What is change other than what people judge it to be and their judgments are based on what they're willing to accept. I have friends here who see me as I was before I moved out here and I recognize the subtle changes in myself when talking to them because they only refer to the former me. It's sort of like my relations with them have conditioned them to see me a certain way over the years so any changes, especially subtle ones will take time to recondition their view of me. By the time the new responses recondition their view, I may have changed yet again. This is what makes growing and changing so difficult. People want certain things to stay the same because change means work, rewriting the maps of what we think we know. People want to know that their friends are still the same. If you feel you no longer know your friends, the world seems a lonely place. Friends can really hold people back this way, but it's really up to the individual to not engage this. It's important to me to find relationships and hopefully a group of friends who encourage that constant growth and development. I'm much more likely to find that here than New Orleans. Real growth and change is not becoming another person, it's just becoming more of who you are so there's no reason to resist change because nothing is lost in the process. It's all there, which is why the statement can be made, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." We don't really ever generate anything new, we just open up more possibilities, which opens our consciousness. Change itself is just a perception. Change is the noticeable waves on the surface that are generated from the stillness and silence deep within. Even the slightest movement down there can create tsunamis on the surface. Everyday I express myself in words to sweep the bugs out of me, then I meditate to get to that stillness, to connect with it. It lets me know who I am. Who I am is not a perception or an experience. I can't even put a word to it. I can only describe what it is not. No matter how disconnected I feel, I know that I'm plugged into this orchestra of energy that is infinite and nurturing. It is the reason and purpose of our existence no matter what we decide to do with ourselves. (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 19th, 2004
10:46 am	Life Is Good Shortly after writing in my journal yesterday about how down I felt, an energy came over me that I can only describe as feeling really high. I had no artificial substances in me, but it felt like one step of away from ecstasy. How I went from nearly depressed to nearly rolling within an hour I don't understand. I didn't spend a second trying to figure it out either. Gratitude was all I could feel. My body and head felt so light I considered tying my foot to the furniture so I wouldn't float away. I came down a bit later, but the feeling never completely left me for the rest of the day and night. Last night I bartended a fundraiser. Kim came along so we could make extra money. I also called up six other bartenders, mostly past students of mine to help out. We were supposed to make $150 each, but that didn't work out. We worked for tips only and half of what we made went to the fundraiser. The turn-out, turned out to be not as expected, though there were a lot of people there. A roller derby team called the Derby Dolls are trying to get their games off the ground and need money, which is what the fundraiser was for. There were tattooed and pierced chicks rollerskating everywhere wearing short skirts and corsets as other freaks walked around playing games. It was a circus. We had so much fun. Kim got hit on by fifty million men and women. The girls didn't play around either. They would walk right up to her and say, "God you're fucking gorgeous!" Some lesbians would walk up to the bar, completely ignoring me of course, and order drinks from her when they didn't even need any. They would just stand there trying to think of names of different cocktails buying more time to talk to her. Watching this was like tuning in to the mating habits of the human species on National Geographic. One of the other female bartenders made out with a customer over the bar. Howard Stern should have been there. At the end of the night we walked away with $40 each, a large bottle of booze, and a good time. I desperately needed the $150, but I'm not complaining. What else was I going to do on a Saturday night with no money? I had a moment of appreciation last night as I stood looking at all the craziness going on. A year ago I was feeling anxious about moving out here wondering what it would be like and feeling scared and excited. "Here I am." I thought. We're here and we're making it and it's silly for me to be down about not being as far along as I would like. We're still in transition and I have the tendency to try to push or think myself out of this phase before it's matured. Wherever I am is okay. I'm okay. I'm better than okay. I wouldn't trade it for anything. So often I forget that this is a challenge that I took on. No one and nothing is doing this to me. It's a life and I'm living it regardless if I choose to enjoy it or hate it. There's so much to enjoy too, especially in LA even if I'm broke. I'm alive. My spirit is intact and my soul knows nothing other than abundance and joy. It's just this grotesque, Hitleresque ego of mine that tries to dominate and control. The wind is blowing and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it so enjoy it. I'm slowly letting go, of what I don't know, but my gravitational pull is aligning with the gravity of reality. I'm resisting less and less. As if I could ever be any match for reality. We go through a phase in adolescence where we judge our significance by the degree of opposition we create against our parents, society, school, etc. We're supposed to grow out of this somewhere in our twenties. Unfortunately, I know so many people who haven't outgrown this who are much older than me. When I see this, I fear getting to that age and still being so clueless. The less we judge our significance the more insignificant judgment becomes. Still, some of us judge our significance by how much "good" we can affect on others, but even this is dangerous. I'll take it over opposition, but still, approval seeking will lead to depression and self-punishment when the intended effect doesn't play out. I remember beginning Astanga yoga in New Orleans and during the first session a little voice in my head kept saying, "Notice me. Tell me how well I'm doing. I'm better than everyone else." I couldn't take the voice serious and nearly laughed out loud at it, but it made me understand my approval seeking nature better. I wasn't a very rebellious teenager toward my parents because I didn't like trouble and I hated it when I disappointed them, but their expectations of their sons were unreasonable and perfect. My brothers disobeyed them because they sought attention. I sought there attention by doing well in everything I did, though often they didn't notice and if they did, they didn't say anything. I had my on little quiet rebellion not out of spite, but because I wanted to fuck and drink and party like any normal teenager. But I covered my tracks, so well in fact that if I did get caught, I got the same speech from my parents every time: "I would expect this from your brothers, but not from you Damon." What the hell did they expect from me? Part of my independence came from deciding as a teenager that I would do things for myself first and for my own approval instead of waiting for friends and relatives to pat my ass. When I forgot about seeking approval, the compliments came pouring in, but it didn't matter anymore. I had my own approval. What else did I need? I find myself still returning to that approval-seeking mind from time to time. It sneaks up on me when I'm unaware. Stay awake! Even seeking approval from myself is masturbation. It's uncalled for. It comes from a divided sense of self, one part that seeks approval and the other that approves or disapproves. I don't need approval from anyone even myself and I need to understand this all of the time, not just when I'm seeking it. My yoga practice blossomed when I stopped trying and stopped being so conscious of myself. I had taken note that my instructor rarely if ever gave compliments to the students. I wondered about that for months. Most yoga classes or any type of exercise classes have instructors that overwhelm their students with encouragement to keep them going. But for those who are serious, they know better than to look for anything outside of themselves to fuel their fire. She finally payed me a compliment for having come so far in such a short time in my practice and for my insights, but the compliments really didn't matter. And I can't help but think that she knew better than to compliment me until I stopped expecting her to. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 18th, 2004
8:48 am	Sadness And Other Rationalizations I'm feeling terribly resistant right now. I feel resistant to writing this journal, my novel, getting up this morning, everything. I'm fucking grouchy and I hate the way it feels, but what can I do other than go about my day and hope it gets better. Fluctuations and inconsistencies torment me. It seems like my mood changes by the moment. Recently I've refrained from trying to manipulate it or blocking myself from the feelings because I have to allow myself to feel what is present. How is it I feel sad or depressed for no apparent reason? Do I expect to wake up one morning and my life be everything that I want it to be? Am I just unable to acknowledging how blessed my life is? I know I have much to be happy about and grateful for, but I don't always feel it. I want to be a million places at once and do a million things at a time and it's killing me. The fucked up part is that I know that I have to want to be right here, now and loving what I'm doing now to be fulfilled even if I'm in my apartment doing one activity. I'd like to think I'm just somewhere lost in the process. I'm lost and that's what torments me, but if I'm in the process, whether it be working toward paying my debts or in the process of working toward my aspirations, then lost should be okay. I think what it comes down to is that I feel limited. Limitations are only set by us, I know this, but I can't help feeling that I'm stuck at my job. There's nothing wrong with my job other than it pays shit and I'm barely making a living. It's fucked up that I can't see any other possibility, in the near future, of working somewhere that I can make some real money and still pursue a writing career. I still go out to job interviews for bartending because I need the money and I can't see myself making a living doing anything else and this really fucking bothers me. How the hell am I supposed to ever create the life I want doing the things that I want to do, if I can't contemplate my existence outside of the limitations I've created for myself? Use my imagination is the obvious answer and maybe I already have and it's working and I just can't see it yet. The rational ego of mine can only see and predict through logic, which leaves me with the most uninteresting image of a life before me that I'd rather not live. No wonder I'm feeling down. I'm afraid to use my imagination to create a better life because I fear getting wrapped up in the delusions of fantasy and wasting years of my life convincing myself that my dreams are on the horizon, and the horizon takes a step away with every step I take toward it. LA has helped instill this fear, because I meet delusional people everyday who believe that Spielberg or Lucas will walk up to them someday and ask them to star in their next movie with Tom Cruise and Angelina Jolie. These people spend all their time fantasizing and never actually doing the work. I spend all my time doing the work and getting angry when I don't see instant results. I think I can trust myself enough to know that I could never be that delusional unless I did the work required to qualify for such a role. It's really a matter of trusting myself, my imagination, and the process that follows. At the core of all my limitations is fear; fear that I'll fail, that I'll let myself down, or even fear that I'm not really who I want to be. All I can really do is use intellect to fulfill the demands of the present and let the imagination take over and lead, which is the complete opposite of everything I've ever done, my conditioning since I was a child, and everything I was taught. Obviously my ways have not worked so they must change. I have to change and stop trying to change everything around me as if my problems come from my surroundings. The helicopters that constantly hover over LA don't bother me. The constant blowers manned by the Mexicans doing yard work outside doesn't irritate me. I am irritated and I use these things as excuses to justify my irritation. As long as I can justify my irritation, my poor spirit, my unhappiness, then it will never change. To my logical and rational ego I say, 'There is no logical, rational or founded reason for me to be unhappy or unfulfilled. If I feel that way then it is my choosing.' I have to ignore the abundance around me to be unhappy and that takes a lot of effort. I pout like a child who can't get what he wants and hoping that this display of emotion will motivate someone or something to hand me what I desire. I haven't grown up as much as I thought. I still have a tendency to resort to old conditioned patterns to get what I want. But I'm too old for this shit. If I stop long enough to pout now, I'll be trampled by those who are active. The pursuit doesn't matter. There's no real wrong or right pursuit unless the pursuit is destructive. What's right is movement, dancing. There doesn't need to be a reason to dance. The music is playing all the time. It's the hum of life vibrating so loud that we block it out and instead rant about the noise that irritates us. There doesn't need to be a reason, just move. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 17th, 2004
7:17 am	Another Friday Morning I would like to thank Ivan for not destroying my hometown. I had a few bouts of nostalgia this week completely unrelated to the hurricane. Sometimes I take it for granted that I left a great place to come here. Often when I least expect it, I feel like I'm in New Orleans and then I realize I'm in LA. It's a strange and unprecedented experience because I've never lived anywhere else before. I'm ultra sensitive to sound lately. I car just beeped it's horn on the street and I jumped. Similar occurrences where distant noises affect me strongly seem to be happening more and more. My sensitivity level to everything seems to be heightened lately. It's not like I get emotional about everything, though my emotions seem to be heightened as well. Colors seem brighter, voices sound crisper and my sense of smell is sensitive to the point of confusing me. While I sat on the sofa reading last night, an intense smell of alcohol went up my nose as if someone had spilled hard liquor next to me. I looked around to see where it came from. The only thing close to me was a sip of red wine in a wine glass about two feet away. It can't be the wine I thought and kept reading. The smell became fume-like and I leaned over to see if it was the wine and sure enough it was, but it tasted fine. I never smelled pure alcohol from wine like that. The weather is cooling off again and the days are getting shorter. Kim and I are approaching a one year anniversary of living in LA. Thanksgiving will have more meaning this year than it ever has. Kim had to remind me how well we are doing despite my worry and she's right. Maybe I had higher expectations ten months ago, but living here and realizing how this city works, I know we're doing quite well. I'm still learning and finding ways to make it even better still. In a few years, it will be beyond great. Regardless of what I'm doing, I will have money. I may not be rich, but I will not be poor and I will have more freedom to travel. I've got my health, I'm getting my finances in order, and I'm catching up with all the feelings I've put off for so long. I'm realizing myself more and more each day. Sometimes I even feel myself growing older and it's great. Fast-paced cities do that to you I suppose and time has flown by. It still feels like just a few days ago that we arrived. Lately, I wonder who that person was that arrived here. I'm not the same because a different environment yields a different response, but I feel like my heart has opened accepted all of whoever I ever was, ever. And the possibilities of what is to come are endless and full of wonder. Sometimes it frightens me and I try to plan everything and then I want to resist the plan because it's boring. What I like to do now is open the future to my imagination without trying to focus it anywhere. I just let whatever thought, idea, or fantasy enter and let it stay however long it wants. I try never to judge whether or not it is possible or whether I want it to really happen. Sometimes I can't help it and I judge or try to rid myself of the thought or idea, but non judgment is a discipline I haven't mastered yet. It's not uncommon for me to work myself up into a knot of tension trying to nail something tangible down. I just have to let it go. I can only influence so much. Creating needs to be my work and the only work I do without it feeling like work. Effort and work imply resistance. When everything flows, then everything is in its natural state. Work is defined by the friction caused by movement against or in opposition to something. Sometimes it's got to be done, because we can't imagine any other way, but it's not natures fault. It only slows us down, irritates and frustrates us. I may not like work so I resist it and torment myself because I create the resistance therefore I suffer from it. But when I go along with it and harmony is allowed to flow, then I make peace with it and move on. At that point, it doesn't matter to me as much that I can now leave the activity I despised because I no longer despise it, but it seems to work that way. It seems that once we make peace with something and harmony is realized, reality shifts and moves and so do we. (5 Comments |Comment on this)