"....and my memory feeds my soul, with all the things you said...."

Just one more reference that is dear to me, that no one I know will get. Which in itself is a moot point because .... what's the fucking point? not originally how I was going to end that thought, but seriously? What *is* the fucking point? Why do human beings bother trying to see the next day? As far as I can tell, our sole reason for being, I say "our" as if I am accepted by or consider myself a part of this fucked society and on a grander scale, the human race.... regardless, as I was saying - from what I can tell most people exist to experience something new, then move on to the next thing. Is that the whole secret of being happy? To have a new thing, grow to be accustomed to that (read: bored) then move on to something else? Or is it all about selfish desires? Getting what you want, moving on to something else. If you get right down to it, that's what motivates everyone. Even the most selfless of actions - actions are all motivated by selfish desires. Feeding the homeless - "I want these homeless to be fed" - I want them to be warm, happy, etc - because it makes you feel good as a person to know you helped someone else - selfish desire. shrug. Who cares? does it ever really make any difference? any of it? other than making someone feel good about himself or herself. The delusion of importance. And it is a delusion. No one is really important as an individual. we exist to serve as a whole and that's the only reason - because of society. If we were solitary in nature, we would live out as hermits, by ourselves, not needing or wanting the companionship of other humans, and THEN we as individuals would mean something. As it is now, we don't. We serve only one purpose - to grease the cogs for the corporate machine. The way we exist now, we serve only to make rich people richer. Living in the illusion of freedom, as if we have free will, still. You have no free-anything. Your identity is not yours. Your will is not yours. Your belongings are not yours. You own nothing and stand for even less. You are who they tell you to be, you say what they want you to. I'm sick of this kind of reality.

"...just want to watch the world burn...."

Futility. I think that's the theme that keeps coming back to me. It's funny, growing up you have an idea of how things are - you create a reality from your experiences as you grow and you assume that is the way of things. It never occurs to you to consider the possibility that you didn't have things figured correctly... or that the way you had them figured could change.... throughout your entire life you just assumed "If a + b then AB" but it may as well be "If A+sideways then tuesday". but even that.... even the epiphany of possibly being wrong... not even that matters. I'm not sure what it says for a person to have such big, important thoughts but nothing about that person, not even the thoughts actually matters. Worthless. Imagine for a moment if, say, abraham lincoln would have died in his teens or early twenties. Things would have changed. History - as we know it in this particular river of reality, would be different.... but there are people who if they just suddenly died would have 0 effect on the outcome of the particular vein of time in which they exist. It will still go on and continue unabated. What must that feel like to be that person and to have the awareness of that truth? To know that no philosophy you come up with, no story you write, no physical thing you make will ever matter. No thing you say no thing you think. Of all the people you have ever met, no one is better off for having met you. For that matter, you could say no one is any worse off either. After you are dead and gone, the fact that you were ever alive will not matter. So why prolong it? What kind of masochistic personalities do people have that they willingly inflict that sort of torturous pain upon themselves? And what does that say about human life on the planet? The fact that only a handful of the people who are alive will actually matter. The rest of the people alive serve to do what? eat? take up space? why? Why is this the reality of the world in which we live? Why doesn't everyone strive to matter in some way? That's a sisyphean task to be sure.... and sometimes we just want to laugh... sometimes we just want to watch the world burn.

And island of one

Without getting all melodramatic and overstating shit for effect, yeah, I guess on a daily basis there are some comforting interactions with other people. But at the same time there are interactions with people which you think should go off without a hitch, which you think should be positive and pretty straight forward and those are the ones that get all fucked up. People take things the wrong way, people misunderstand or simply fail to communicate....

Consider this for a moment, what if the people in your life right now were the only people to be in your life from now on? What if you never met another new person - not a stranger or a co worker - when I say a "new person" someone whom you allow in to your inner circle someone you trust and share things with - someone who wants to get to know you and allows you to do the same. Then consider for a moment, are the people who are in your life, permanent. Probably not.. few people are ever, really permanent. I don't know where I'm going with this or what my point actually is... I guess ultimately it comes down to wondering how people see me. My impression of me from a third person perspective. I don't know, most of the time I don't care about being alone, but for whatever reason I am going through some kind of thing where i would, really, like to have that mutual energy exchange that two people who are getting to know one another have. I don't generally make good first impressions, I either come off as shy or aloof or weird and abstract. I am not even sure my actual friends of whom I have only a handful, know how to take me. If .... I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter. None of it matters, really. One hundred years from now...

Moxy.... the beginning

"Moxy had one more bad poundin in her head. That knock she took from those two strongarms made her see stars... 'Apple must have sent them to deliver a message', she thought, over the sound of the streetcar, the hustle and bustle of the city's working class, the smell of the freshly drenched streets, the way the buildings look when bathed in a combination of moonlight and streetlamp glow, "this city makes sense... it's real, where I belong. But Apple? Apple Tangerine Moonbeamdream Travolta. Don't let the name fool you, old girl, he belongs to this city as much as you do..." She comes to the dead end of a dimly lit, putrid smelling ally. "Password"? She hears, as if the heavy night air had spoken from the darkness... "umm... dammit...oh, 'North West Hammerstyle'. A door swings open, revealing a smoky, loud, yet dimly lit speak easy... "Apple is waiting for you..."

                     Upon her entry, the speakeasy goes quiet. Piano stops, conversations cease, glasses seem to make no noise... the smoke hangs in the air, as if time itself has crawled to a fraction of its original pace. All eyes on her, she takes it all in stride. As she approaches a table, she deftly removes the shot from a particularly shady looking patron's frozen hand, his gaze never leaving her, seemingly unaware he was suddenly missing his drink. Without effort she quickly downs the rust colored liquid and passing the second table in the row, turns the glass upside down and slams it down with a force unexpected from such a petite figure. "Thanks kid, next time, try a real man's drink... " she said as they all stared at her back - her black, rain-soaked trench, her smartly brimmed fedora that always sat on the back of her head, and her motorcycle goggles. Always with those motorcycle goggles. In her left hand, was that cane, yet no one ever saw her walk with a limp. Mysteriously black and silver – but not shiny, seeming instead, to absorb any line that shone on it. She wasn't the showy type who did things for attention and no reason other... but if there were any people around who knew the deal with that cane, they weren't talking...

Hulk.... Smash!

I'm coming off a caloric deficit weekend. That has fueled me to make a decision about my gym life. For a period, I had decided that I was going to muscle up. Pile some bulk on. Get swole... Let me just say, that shit is hard. This is coming from someone who - might I add 10 years ago, lost 60 pounds and have kept it off this whole time. The hard part about this whole thing isn't the weights bit, not the training, not the cardio, not the pain and sweat and exhaustion, the hardest part is eating. I have had an epiphany because of all this - I'm a little dude. I have a small frame and that's just the way it's going to be. I have decent enough genes that I could pack on some muscle, but damn, I increased my caloric intake to around 1900-2100 calories a day, which i thought was a LOT, apparently it wasn't. I got a noticeably larger, noticeably stronger, was able to lift more - in fact, I slid comfortably in to the "225 club" where I was working out with on a regular basis, 225 on the flat bench - 4 45 plates and the bar. I even maxed out, my personal record, 250, I could possibly have completed a 1 rep max of 275. The 250 was my 6th set of 8+reps, and all over 225 pounds, so I'm sure I was a bit gassed by that point. BUT, I can't keep up that kind of eating. So again, going back to the thing I said about identifying with things and allowing those things to help define you as a person, I'm taking myself out of the 225 club.... I'm just not meant to be moving heavy weights like that.... because I can't keep eating that much food, and I need like 320+ grams - that's like ... well one of my protein shakes is 84 grams. And everyone knows the best protein is from actual food... so. Point is, I'm 42. I'll be 43 this year. Unfortunately, I got in to this game too late in life. I'm rapidly (I assume) running out of hormones to build muscle. I should be more concerned now with sculpting the muscle I have and trying to keep it, and keeping the fat off. My mom's only living brother had a stroke the other day. It runs in the family... so far I've had two uncles who had strokes and heart attacks, an uncle to die of cancer, grandmother to die of cancer, grand father to die of cancer, I have two aunts who had alzheimers and .... point is, my future is going to be a damn disease land mind. I will say this though, I will not go through life slowly losing my mind. I will go out in a glorious ball of flame before that happens. :) 

It's been a while... long enough for everything to change

Like a year since my last post, or something. Part of that has been because I have raged against google+. Call me an asshole but I don't think just because I have a google email account, that gives them the right to post any of my pics or information on any of their satellite companies' pages. e.g. my pictures on picasa.... fuck google. part of it has been because my life itself has changed. Not because of anything enacted, but sometimes things happen over which we have no control. This is one of those things. I'm not going to talk about it here because it's mine to deal with. Mainly I am posting this to test out the new interface and attempt to control as much of it as I can...

Recently, I have been using all the self control I can muster to keep from raging on people. Normally I don't have a lot of patience for stupidity, ignorance, sense of entitlement or the general malaise that comes with most of humanity, but recently .... it's been much worse. To the point where I pretty much have to shut down mentally until I can get to the gym, work through my anger and most times, after that, I feel great. But that's because I leave it all in the gym. If I had never started working out, I would probably be in prison for murder by now. Which brings me to another point - I was watching a YT video the other day on steroids. It was an email video, a viewer was writing in to get the opinion of this person. The general consensus was that steroids are ok as long as you don't imprint with them - in other words, he went on to say, don't let the steroids define you as a person, don't identify yourself with the size and body you get from using them because at some point, you will have to stop using them and you will lose the gains you made while on them. Once that happens, you will be sent in to an emotional tailspin, trying to figure out who you are because the person you see when you look in the mirror is not the person you expect to see....  ad infinitum. Well that's great and all, and I happen to agree, you shouldn't let an alien substance, whether it's steroids or botox or a new car or hair dye dictate or guide who you are as a person. But you can also apply this to literally anything - going to the gym in general, weight training, dieting, losing weight, having a tan, religion - nothing is permanent and at some point the thing you use to define yourself could and may possibly come to an abrupt end. Then what? So, how do we define who we are? If we don't use something we come in contact with every day, how are we to develop a personality? How do we know who we are? The alternative is to follow in the footsteps of Bodhidharma and live in a cave with no alien influences.... I don't know. While I have no intentions of doing steroids, I can't help but expand the point of view of this video to include all aspects of life....