I’m not sure what I’m doing. Ever. Walk with me?...
It has been a few weeks since I last updated this... whatever it is. It felt so alive a month ago. Of course one month ago I was in the midst of a wild hypomanic episode, amongst the strongest and longest I've ever experienced. That has its pros and cons. Pros: I was able to do things. Like really do things. No overthinking, no doubting, no throwing up barriers to prevent things or rationalizing…
First time ever blogging from my phone. Sitting in the passenger seat on a vehicular trek to Long Beach, California. What delights await? Lol. Impulsively purchased a ticket to a Detestation show tonight. There’s a crust punk blast from the past. I was nervous about TRAINing it home at midnight from wherever the fuck the show is, but even at 44 I gotta remember to live a little. It could be fun.…
Gilles Deleuze and Michel Foucault: two philosophers, for the sake of description, who many people grapple and struggle with. I was no different for a while. I was trying to pursue them intellectually. Head heavy. BRAIN POWER. But that's the wrong approach. They're more about feeling... more about attunement. Once I let go of the words and just sat with the ideas, what they were saying and…
Engineered attention. Modern life has conditioned us to be a certain way. AN AMPED WAY. ALWAYS ANXIOUS. ALWAYS NERVOUS. Watching Lady Terminator (1988, Indonesia — directed by H. Tjut Djalil, a gloriously unhinged cult horror action film and loose remake of The Terminator filtered through Indonesian folklore). The movie has an idyllic pace in the beginning. Meandering. Low importance things shown…
If you somehow managed to stumble upon my post from yesterday and saw the photograph of my journal page, you know I was going through something. When I go through these things I feel agitated. Amped. Short on composure. I get a little manic. Or a lot manic. I become someone who starts to bleed and ooze, and with that comes a compulsion to express, to vomit thoughts and feelings, to be a human…
I just came home after a difficult morning excursion to a yoga class and my local coffee shop. I am in my matcha era! Isn't that a sticker people are buying right now? No, but really. I cannot drink coffee because I have a hiatal hernia that is fucking killing me at the moment with acid reflux, heartburn, puke, retching, and more. Coffee triggers it. Matcha doesn't. Well - this matcha today did…
It's weird how often I think of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It's a place I've never even been and I hate the thought of having to hear people say pop for soda. Many readers might not remember (actually I have no idea the age of the average bearblog user... probably not gen-z's), but there was once a time and a place known as the 1990s. It was either 1996 or 1997 and I was fifteen, maybe sixteen…
Can I write? I'm 44 years old and most days it feels like I'm running out of time to write, publish, and express something of meaning or value to the world. When I say publish I do not mean to publish something of merit or be signed to an imprint or something. No, no, no! I mean to literally hit publish and have something I've shat out of my fingers reach someone, or at least have the potential…