weight

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received from: [eb]

k: thanks – - happy anniversary. three years, right?

another day, another dollar or two. it’s nice to be back in a job, but the commute to get there is .. er .. tedious. story of my employed life, lately. but it’s not a couple of hours, so it’s an improvement, right?

right?

—>

weight

in the grand tradition of causing myself as much pain as possible, i topped out the dead lifts today at 275. i got one rep, then my fingers went. the limiting factor there wasn’t my back, but rather, my hands. i had another couple good reps in my back (so it tells me).

this is a concept extensible to other arenas too. the old adage goes something like ‘a chain is only as strong as its weakest link’. in a system where you’re trying to build strength, the strength of the whole can’t increase until there is a balance of strength throughout the system. a suspension bridge with weak cables is a disaster, no matter how strong its towers are.

if the triceps are too weak to hold the bar at full extension during a bench press, the chest isn’t going to get any stress at all, and consequently, there will be no growth. each aspect of the system is the limiting factor for some other aspect, and all have to be of comparable strength. awareness of these limiting factors is key to any sort of personal growth.

where am i heading with this?
balance

. (did you see that coming, lothos? lothos is a fine example of someone who is constantly building their whole person, and who has come to believe in the power of balance. look at him, talk to him, and you’ll know he’s taken these principles to heart. in a lot of ways, he’s my shining example.)

character writing: ral winstead

(playing with voice. this is the old, tired, country grandad voice. — ben)

Tell ya what you do, stranger — if’n you want to see what this war did to the land and the folks hereabouts, head down Cosdon way ‘bout a day and a half — you’ll get to parcel of land what we knowd as ‘the Windward Hill’.

In the middle of this hard flat, yer’ll spy a hill, powerful steep. It has two crests, smaller’n on the windward side of the hill. Back in the day, a stranger headed that way’d’ve noticed a stout barn and stables at its base, and a longhouse top o’ the high hill. The little ‘un ’da been covered in fruit trees and berry bushers, yer north side of the rise rich with beans, corn, and taters. A great mess of mixed garden could be seen just down y’hill from the longhouse. Several brown mares and the orneriest white stallion yer’ll ever meet was fenced in ’round the barn with dozens of cattle, sheep, and goats feeding on down the greenery west. The fields north of the small hill were sown with hay — danced like an ocean of spun gold when the breeze blew, and it always blew — right up onto the porch. It looked like a place where a happy man might live, with his family.

This wasn’t far from the truth — but head that way now. Yer’ll see a field and a hill gone fallow. The barn’s a pile of burnt poles, the fences all busted down. The orchard is filled with these scorched trees squeezing out a few meager leaves every spring, choked back with morning glory. The blackberry bushes got stingy and prickly, and have taken the small hill as their own.

The house stands empty — the thatching spare and still scorched. The furniture inside scatterred a’piece, and anything worth anything has been long since pilfered. The south end is all thick with razorvine, black as a murderin’ heart. It was once a house of life and love — now it stands, a tribute to its owner, full of cold … [read more >>]

sleeves

there seem to be a lot of races, classes, jobs, and religions i despise. on the surface, that’s what is apparent. what’s really going on is i can’t stand people who wear their convictions on their sleeves.

these are bumper-sticker people, who find their philosophies on the proverbial cereal box. or maybe that flaming guy who wants the world to know. or the baptist couple who asks your name, then what church you attend, then ‘do ya know jesus?’. anybody who’s got an issue that they want to shove down my throat, i despise. these people are badly programmed scenery, and should be shot on sight.

it’s not about belief. people can believe what they want, so long as they don’t mind my ripping it to pieces when they try to convince me. it’s about identity. the real issue with sleeve people is that their identity comes from what they believe or some path they chose, or something they want to react to, not from who they are.

i’m not saying that everyone has had the time to consider the ins and outs of who they really are — most people never truly understand their whole identity. but you can’t draw that identity from external stimuli. identity must come from within.

say, for instance, your identity is built around being avant-garde, on the forefront of styles and trends, or maybe on the cutting edge of what’s shocking. you might dye your hair some crayola shade, get some face piercings, and act to match. you know its an act. i know its an act. but you have to act this way — it’s
who you are

. your who comes from an image of how people react to you.

the same thing applies to church people: ‘jesus crispies’ as stephanie is fond of calling them. these people are so wrapped up in their identity as part of the church, that they fail to have identity of their own. a glimmer of something might shine through, … [read more >>]

the overbearing jackass

i get to choose in what events i participate, and with whom i keep company. there are some folks i don’t like to be around all the time — and some i don’t like to be around in certain situations. and subsets of groups i don’t like. so i avoid them — especially when i know talking about my reasons would be a waste of breath. for this, i make no apoligies.

on courtesy: i am a big believer in invitations. i extend invitations to my house. if i’m trying to put something together, you’ll rarely hear me say ‘bring some friends’. if i want you to ask folks, i generally name them. so, if you get such an invite, that doesn’t mean ‘you and whomever you’re with’. it means you. i don’t appreciate uninvited folks in my house. i’ve had this conversation with enough people i shouldn’t have to put it up here. but for future reference, here it is.

one other thing — if any of you, as my friend, aren’t comfortable around me alone, say so. we won’t hang out — because i can’t conceive of a friendship that’s not built on trust. i see them every day, but that’s not how i want my own relationships to go. it’s something i understand. i’ve been dealing with this for decades, even if you haven’t.

relationships

someone who’s been abused in every relationship doesn’t know how to be in a relationship where abuse doesn’t occur. it doesn’t occur to them that this is possible. and when you’ve gotten used to a certain set of circumstances, they become comfortable. you don’t want to let them go, even if you know something’s wrong, because you’ve become comfortable.

most relationships are among equivalents. people in these relationships tend to think of the other person as their equivalent — maybe not their equal, but they’re on the same rung of the ladder. in this case, the people don’t need each … [read more >>]

baseball

i’d really do better if i just killed off my urge to help people. i’m a sucker for someone with potential not fulfilling it. it’s not exactly a cross to bear, but it does get me into trouble.

there is a baseball coming at someone you care for, heading for their face. do you:

a) throw yourself in front of the ball

b) tell them to duck

c) shove them down

d) hope that getting hit in the face with a ball will teach them to pay attention to their surroundings.

despite my recent leanings toward b and c, my choice has returned to its natural default, d. and if the first ball doesn’t teach them, then the second will. and so on.

of course, you could teach them how to catch — but they have to want to learn that. more likely, in my case, is that i’m the one throwing the ball.

[just cut around a thousand words. they said this:]

it’s better to be a strong individual than to be part of a strong organization (clan, group). an individual has all their gear with them at all times. an organization’s strength shrinks as the number of members present declines.

i’m giving this a lot of thought lately, as i’m considering clans, and tribes, and whatnot. while it’s true i think of my crew as my tribe, most of them are capable individuals that don’t really need backup.

so — stand up. be your own tribe for a little while. throw away your crutches and safety nets and just fly. you’ll be stronger when you come down. otherwise, your destined to learn via the baseball method, and i throw pretty damn hard.

that’s it, i’m done.

cats and dogs

cats and dogs, living together

mass hysteria.

what the author suggests is largely correct, but accidentally so, and the conclusions drawn are sketchy at best.

here’s the problem: we in america criminalize affection. we don’t want our kids touching other. we don’t want our teachers touching our kids. we don’t want our friends parents touching our kids. this is because most parents believe that the way the look in the eyes of their community is through their kids. people are pretty judgemental about kids. we almost treat kids like property — and we’re all possesive twits, for the most part.

hence, our defensiveness: we don’t want people touching our stuff. and with all the ‘child abuse’ madness in the 80s and early 90s, the distance between any given two people got that much farther apart. these things, along with the denouncement of secular education by the evangelical community and several highly publicized kidnapping/rape cases involving children fostered an aura of fear that is being persisted by the media.

is that person a child molester? are they violent? are they sick? are they gonna give my little girl hepatitis? these are the questions that your average suburban american asks about the people they meet on the sidewalk. and who can blame them, with so many pseudo-news sources (dateline, 20/20, readers’ digest) and talk shows (geraldo, oprah, the view) promoting the idea that the world is a scary place. they point out everything that could ever hurt you, and teach you not to touch anyone or anything unless you have your disinfectant handy. they show you the worst violence of society and then point the finger at anyone who’s a stranger, saying it’s better to stay home (and watch their shows).

the consequence of this is we, as a society, have drifted away from values which incline us to initially trust each other. now, the default setting of most people is suspicion. … [read more >>]

Almost Everything

Ian tapped gently on the door, hesitant. He didn’t expect, and maybe didn’t want her to be home. But he heard the soft footsteps approach, and the locks release. Then she was standing in the doorway.

She looked tired and disheveled, but was still lovely. Ian hadn’t thought she’d have lost sleep over him, and perhaps he was flatterring himself, but he felt a little relieved.

“Did you save the world?” she asked, a sad smile appearing on her face.

“Something like that. But I didn’t help much, it turns out.”

“Oh.”

*

Tara looked at Ian again. He had changed quite a bit in the past few days. He didn’t move the same way. He wasn’t armed. His eyes looked different. He felt different. Hollow. Broken.

She nodded at his left eye. Where there was metal and plastic, now there was flesh. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

“All of my ’ware is gone.”

“What about the new stuff?”

“Gone. Everything’s gone. There used to be color — vivid, brilliant. I used to see tones and hues, depth, and now there’s only shades of gray. I had a gift, and just when I mastered it, it was taken away. I don’t really know what to do.” His eyes glanced down at nothing. “A few days ago, I was a living thing. Alive, strong. Now there’s just this,” he turned up his hands slightly. “I’ve lost everything.”

She smiled. “Almost everything,” she said, stepping back into the apartment. Ian smiled — a warm, real smile — and stepped inside.

chest pain

i’m trying to figure out whether or not the pain in my chest is physical or emotional. i can’t say i have a lot of problems — the simple ones usually get sorted out before they sound collision warning on my radar. figuring out solutions to hard problems is more or less my profession.

that leaves in the queue the problems i can’t solve. monster gordian knots made of razorwire. and they’re never just mine. always two or more other people are tangled up in them, so by altering the situation for me, i’m altering it for them.

surface advice is one thing – i’ll hand out wisdom like pez, and not think anything of it. there are a lot of things i’ve thought through and reached solid conclusions on, and problems i’ve solved for myself – presenting others with the logic of the solution means they don’t have to climb out of these pits themselves. but i try never to go so far as tinker with their lives. i dispense words.

(now i’m imagining this greasy pez-dispenser with my shaggy bearded head on top, popping out these perfect little pills that look so perfect and taste like bile.)

so when i have to solve problems for myself that are tangled up in other people, i hesitate. if they’re not part of my crew, they can eat it — i don’t care. but for the people who mean something to me, people by whose vision i derive some of my own value, for these people i hesitate. i want permission, but i’d rather spend the time we have together enjoying each others’ company rather than bring up the bad.

so these jagged edges sit there in my mind, with little bits of wet meat hanging on them where i’ve been careless. they taunt me, but they’re things i can’t solve without a slide rule which can measure the mathematics of pain. other peoples’ pain. thank god i’m patient about the important things.

i don’t really have anything else, i had hoped by … [read more >>]

green party

Why I’m Not Voting for the Green Party

This is taken from their website at greenparty.org, in their national policy section:

“Maximum Income: Build into the progressive income tax a 100% tax on all income, regardless of source, over ten times the minimum wage. With this Ten Times Rule in effect under today’s extremely unequal distribution of income in the U.S., a 100% tax on income above ten times the minimum wage would allow us to cut the income taxes of everyone in the bottom 99%, by over half for the top brackets, by over three-quarters in the middle brackets, and totally for the lower brackets-and still generate about 40% more tax revenues than under the current income tax structure.”

So — lose those skills, folks! They won’t do you any good should Nader get into power. Take up farming, garbage collecting or shudder telemarketing. Cuz if you make more than that, you lose it all.

In other news, this is my last week in Chicago. I can’t say that’s a happy thing — while I like being home, I also like having 3 days a week off. That’s the bees’ knees. After this, it looks like eb’ll be working for Ariba. I’m about to look that up.

Go out and vote tomorrow, dammit! It’s important!

i didn’t come here to play jesus to the lepers in your head

miniblinds

What is it about ‘Survival of the Fittest’ that people on safety comissions don’t understand? We WANT babies killed by miniblinds. It thins out the species — kills off the weak and .. er .. young. But
this

is the latest shot fired in the war to Dumb Down America. Pretty soon you’ll get arrested if you’re clumsy, “for your own protection”. Look, folks — people are supposed to die. People are supposed to get hurt. Pain is how we learn. We don’t have that many incentives to work toward left in America — let’s keep death on the table, shall we?

This, of course, is part of the Big Problem with American government. The government, and those people who support a government of this type (pinkos, leftists, moonbats, etc) think they know better than you what’s best for you. They want you to live according to their rules because they’re better than you. So they convince Uncle Sam to pass laws ‘for your protection’, forbidding you to do things because you might get hurt. Because they’re better at living than you — that’s the implication. What it really boils down to is they’re unhappy, and they wanna make sure no one’s having a better time in this life than they are. They get offended and upset far too easily.

So — Kill a Pinko. It’s the patriotic thing to do. Cut out a leftist’s tongue, and break his fingers (so he can’t type), and just in case he knows morse code, tape his eyes shut. It’s for the good of the country.

That’s it, I’m done.

—ben

there is no cure for this genocide … [read more >>]

two weeks

Give me two weeks and I’ll fix the country. Two weeks in office, with the ability to make law without the checks and balances making sure nothing gets done.

First thing? See who voted. If they didn’t vote, they go on a list, and get mailed a letter talking about the new compulsory vote. $500 fine for not voting.

Second thing? Welfare goes away, in its present form. It is left to the states to determine, and stops being a federal problem. We let the people of the states decide what their values are regarding welfare.

Third — laws get enforced. We have professional jurors, there are 7, and criminal guilt is determined by majority. We pay the jurors a lot, so they can’t get bribed, and retire them after 20 years with full government pension and benefits. All criminal attorneys become public defenders or prosecutors, each get a salary cap. No private criminal defenders so you can’t win through cash. Any sentence over 15 years is converted into a death sentence, and you have 1 year and 1 opportunity to appeal. After that, tough.

Fourth — all candidates, regardless of federal office or party, get the same amount of money to run with. No more money can be used in the campaign, either by the candidate, or the ‘friends of’ the candidate. This money is granted by the government to all registered parties above a certain size. (i.e., I can’t start the Evil Bastard party and run for office, then pocket the money.) And every penny must be accounted for or paid back.

Compulsory vehicle insurance would go away. Public transportation would get massive funding. The responsibility of everything but defense, and international relations gets moved down to the state level, making each person’s vote important.

I’m spewing. Ignore me.

—ben

you’ve never seen my face before you will not recognize my voice … [read more >>]

on israel

You do not pick on the Israelis. You don’t threaten, harass, or otherwise bother them. If possible, you stay the FUCK away, and never let them think that you might be standing on their patch of land.

Because if you do any of these things — if you take the metaphorical sharp stick, and poke at them with it, they will, with wolverine-like ferocity, chew at your ankles until you fall over, and they work their way up. Pound for pound, they are the baddest-ass military organization on the planet, bar none. And like unto the little brother who refuses to stop kicking your shins, it’s high time they took the Palestinians by the short hairs and smacked them around a bit.

Of course, religious jyhads aren’t anything new. Nothing gets people riled up like the afterlife.

pattern

I have to wonder why I’ve made the decisions I’ve made throughout my life. What would the pattern of choices that I’ve made say about me? Would it point to some purpose which has been occulted to me? Some secret cipher by which I can determine that absolute direction of my subconscious?

letter to merlin

Dearest Merlin,

Thank you for staying with us as long as you did. I am so happy to have known you, and you brought such joy and happiness to my life. I owe you so much, and I could never repay you for the things you have given me. You were such a beautiful bunny, and the best friend I could ask for — you asked nothing, and gave so much.

I am sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should’ve known more about you and been able to know that something was wrong. I shouldn’t have been away when you left me. I didn’t get to see you go or say goodbye. And while I asked your forgiveness when I got home, holding you in my arms, it was too late, and you’d already departed.

I can’t imagine you holding a grudge in those green plains where you now run — but, please forgive me. I miss you terribly. Your little dances and sprints ghost in the corner of my eyes, and when I turn to look, there’s no little white bunny to greet me, full of licks and love. I never meant to hurt you, and hope that you can understand.

I’ve studied and learned, and cried too many tears over what I should’ve known, but there’s still an empty, Merlin-shaped hole in my heart. Too many questions about why you left. Maybe you left to show me how to take better care of the other bunny in my life. Maybe you wanted me to appreciate what I have. I don’t know, but I will always cherish our time together, and keep those memories close to my broken heart.

Thank you, Merlin, for your love and for your light — and I’m sorry you had to leave us. I look forward to seeing you again upon the other Shore.

Ever in your debt,

—ben

[an experiment in voice]

It’s that time again, kids. So put down your ham sammiches and listen up! I can’t be the only motherfucker around here who’s wallowing in self-pity, and this has gotta stop. Obviously, if you’re reading this you are among the elite
creme-de-la-creme

of all this is bad ass, so I won’t have to repeat myself: “Get off your ass and start enjoying stuff!”

Why the sudden burst of preachiness? I was on a plane for a LONG time yesterday, and an even LONGER time the day before, and it (and Kurt Vonnegut, Dostoevsky, and Umberto Eco) gave me a lot of time to think about what’s going on. Not just with me, but with the world.

Yeah, the world. That thing we live on.

Particularly, the US. I consider myself a patriot, and would bust up anyone who sassed Uncle Sam, acting like we weren’t all up ‘bout being the best place to live in the world. However, people are lazy round here. Myself included. (With the possible exception of Carl, who’s not lazy, but has other flaws.) And it’s not just about work. We’re lazy about play, too. And about self-improvement, or thought. This has got to stop, at least in my own life.

Another thing which brought about this rant is a letter from Jesse ‘Ass’ Nash, in which (probably down in a exhaustive, speel-deprived stupor) he whines alot, echoing a lot of my present sentiments. I was all like “What an Ass, bein all down like dat — bitch needs to raise up and get his livin on,” and then realized that all that testification was exactly what I’d been feeling. Now I gots too much dat pride to just dump it all on my friends, but we was out there choosin’ oars together.

So I thought about it. And realized that that was the problem: Laziness. I was too lazy in the mind to think about how to fix … [read more >>]

she is one.

can’t you see the shimmer,

hear the crash of waves

upon the shores of the other world?

look beyond her

into the green space of Dream;

see past her beauty

into the imagination of the faithful,

still leaving out saucers

for those thought long dead.

she is one.

touch her and feel the forest

the emerald and evergreen passage —

a creature of myth;

gateway to the unreal.

she is one.

can’t you see the shimmer?

mark mccastlin is a character i developed a while ago. the date of this document on my hard drive was 11.29.99. he may have been the first character to write in all lower case, a style which i have since adopted. enjoy.

Samples from the journals of Marcus Ryan McCastlin, aka Mark Ryan.

jan 15.

every year i think it’ll be different. i’ll get better. i’ll get left alone. and about this time every year, at least the years i can remember, i realize it won’t get any better. great way to start off a year, not to mention a new journal, but it’s going to have to do. new year, new journal, same problems. happy new year everybody.

jan 22.

for the past moon, the visions have been less interesting, at least from the point of view of the author in me. the stark trees are as sinister as ever, but the faces within aren’t pained, just observant. the Strangers i see aren’t moving, just watching, questioning. this could be because of the change in medication. based on the jpm this month, i’m returning to cycads — i’ve replaced the prozac with imipramine. I’ve cut the risperidone to half, but still take a full dose of zyprexa (olanzapine). at half, the resperidone isn’t giving me the side effects. for the moment, i’m still taking ridalin, though i’ve cut my dosage down.

this combo seems to be working pretty well, though i have to keep the timing up, else everything comes back hard. while they don’t kill off the hallucinations, i don’t feel as threatened by them – that is to say, the images aren’t as threatening. maybe it’s just coincidence and the weather. the downside is i don’t get as much free inspiration for stories. when the Strangers get distant, the typewriter seems like a foreign national – we just aren’t communicating.

there was smoke coming from a tree on the way back home. i could barely make out faces coming from within the haze. they were chuckling and whispering. when i saw them, i saw others, around most of the trees. it looks like they come through the trees, using them as a gate or something. at least these were. i never saw forms, just faces.

feb 3.

i enjoy my vacations, i really do. it’s good not to be any crazier than the people around me. cathartic. besides, it’s good stdy material, and if i don’t go, … [read more >>]

“Everything has been broken upon the stone, cracked apart, laid open. The middle runs out over the sides, and nothing is hidden.”—from ‘The Lost Mythic’ by Joshua Matthews.

“All too often one sets themselves in a static state, where they define their reality in terms of what they know. This is not the way a scientist looks at the world, and all philosophers must, at their core, be scientists. The division between Science and Mythology has been a barrier to learning for half a milennium.”—from ‘The Lost Mythic’

“It is the belief of every Christian that their mythology is correct. While I believe this to be true, I do not believe it to be the Truth—that is, it is not the sum of all truths. There are things in this world that the Christian mythology simply doesn’t cover.”—from an interview with Art Bell

>From essay entitled “Revisiting the Divine”, by Joshua Matthews.

We, as Americans are very put upon by organized religion. The Church, in the books of Paul was touted as a group entity, the Body of Christ, and to be a part was a Christian’s duty. This has led to a certain myopia in the present-day church, a cult of conformity that strangles out an important uniqueness in our being.

This uniqueness isn’t merely a representation of who we are, it is also a representation of our relationship with the divine. Our communion isn’t a group activity, it is a personal revelation. One’s relationship with God is one-on-one, as different from person to person as their DNA. This kind of relationship is stifled by the herd mentality of the Sunday Service, everyone bowing to the greater knowledge of their ‘shepherd’.

The problem with the group model, objectively, is that it doesn’t lend itself to strength. If the only spiritual guidance and constancy that a person experiences is with a group, and the reasoning behind their own purity is peer pressure rather than personal decision, this person will fail and be weak when facing their temptations alone. It is better to stand up, alone, complete in the knowledge of the divine, rather than relying on your fellows, as they will not always be with you, and the greatest temptations will come from within the soul, a battle which is ultimately solitary.

Strength comes from strength of conviction, something which is an individual experience. Faith is the light of God, burning away that which troubles us. Emily Bronte … [read more >>]

Always there

soft shoulder to cry on

glassy eyes sympathetic

understanding me

I wish I could see

as you see

a fuzzy imagination

playfuly lazing about

with the other lions

antelopes all around

Innocent and young

with vision so clear

and when I talk to you

I once again see through your eyes

to the hidden things

we grow out of

You watch me sleep

keeping dreams away

keeping age away

… [read more >>]

The rain fell

through the open window

seeping into the familiar

faded spot

in the hardwood floor

only puddling for a second

then disappearing

between the aged boards


It has seeped in for years

always dripping

leaving the wood

a weary gray


Until I get the time

to stop its falling

I will just watch

and admire

the rain’s persistence.

i hear her whisper


when the wind moves the drapes


see her nightgown


in its moving folds




she’s not here anymore


and yet


she is somehow


a shadow of a memory


somewhere in my mind




i never knew her


saw her


save for the


black and white


in the hallway


turned to amber


never heard her voice


only the rustle


of the wind
… [read more >>]