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May 06 2013
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philosophy, poetry

Fishing

drive-in-theater

I chipped my left front tooth on a metal water fountain at the Santee Drive-in when I was 16.

We were drinking tall cans of Steele Reserve. I can still taste the rusted piss. I would buy a gram of weed and a pack of cigarettes every week with the 20 dollars my mom would give me to buy lunch. They didn’t card at Eastridge Liquor. Instead the Middle Eastern…no, Indian? No…Persian clerk? Would give us whatever we wanted provided he could stuff said bottles of Popov down our shirts and underneath our bras. With his foreign hand he would gently pull the padding of our bras forward to make room for the vodka, and push down on the top of the bottle, wedging it slowly between both breasts.

I would walk out of the liquor store with a couple 5ths of rum and vodka protruding out of my oversized bra, looking like a deformed doll. It was cool though. If you told him you had a boyfriend or walked in with a guy he would leave you alone.

He got arrested eventually.

Before heading to the drive-in, we had to fish for our alcohol since we were fresh out of neighborhood pedophiles for the time being. No one wanted to do it, but someone had to buck up and ask one of the schizoid bums to liberate us.

Whenever we succeeded I felt invincible. Nothing could touch me. I can’t remember the name of the one bum who was always happy to buy liquor for us as long as we bought some for him. He was Rastafarian with matted dreads and clothes to match; he would ride around town on a razor scooter.

I hopped in the trunk with a friend two blocks before the Drive-in, I never had any money left over to pay for a ticket.

I liked sneaking in.

I liked seeing the red tail light shine through the cracks of the trunk, like laser beams out to get me. It was like I won something for once.

Authority didn’t matter. I decided to drink authority, all of it. To smoke it down to the roach. To consume it and make it mine. That’s was the only way I had learned to defeat it, by taking it upon myself. Instead of saying fuck you, I said fuck me and chipped my tooth by falling face first onto a water fountain trying to get to the bathroom.

I didn’t even notice till the next morning. I felt a rough patch on my tooth with my tongue. Sliding my tongue over it again and again until I finally looked at myself in the mirror, and forced a smiled.

My mom said I ruined my perfect teeth.

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Sep 30 2012
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life, philosophy, photography, poetry

The Pass

CB

Soaring over crystalized glaciers on a mountain pass, the ocean rises to the heavens.

It breaks violently onto the snow. The sea has reached my mountain, it has touched the highest peak.

Fat rolls of steam rise above the ice as the warm salty water cuts through the hard packed drift.

I try to find some pine trees to take cover, but I soon realize I’m up much higher than the tree line.

I stand exposed now, each wave eroding the mountain’s side. Each white flake melts into water.

There is no where to go. The snow turns wet and I’m going to fall.

It’s beautiful.

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Aug 26 2012
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life, philosophy, poetry

Slideshow

Illustration by Henry Darger

I want to watch a slideshow of my life.

Study every forgotten moment and scar.

Maybe a taste, a smell, a conversation can tell me something about the future.

Give me hints or second guesses–maybe tell me why things are the way they are even though I don’t really care to know.

I want to fast forward and skip the mundane parts. Pause the pain and watch it fade to black. Rewind the good times and recored the half smiles and glimmering eyes.

May 27 2012
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independence, life, philosophy, poetry

The Sea.

(crests: by me)

So as you probably have noticed, I have been writing some poetry lately.

I don’t know if it is the change in the weather or my subconscious trying to tell me something, but I have been experiencing strange and intense dreams over the past few weeks. Some I can so vividly remember I jot them down now and again. This is one of them:

I dreamed of a ship with beautiful bounty.
We were on the Dead Sea.

My eyeliner was salt crusted to my lids. You tucked my hair behind my ear and I hated you then.

I looked at you and your arms became the Mast.
I tied the ropes.
I jumped the ship.

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Oct 17 2011
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life, philosophy, words

Conditional.

Do we really understand what unconditional means? (photo by CB)

I think that more often than not, the majority of the promises and statements people make are conditional. Meaning that people don’t just say or do things because they want to. They do things because they expect something in return. People’s actions are based on certain conditions. These conditions lie within our subconscious, and even though we don’t know that they exist within us, they are certainly the driving forces behind our actions. This is nothing new, in fact it is extremely fundamental. We do something on the condition that we will get a certain reaction out of it.

For those of you who say, “I don’t do things for my gain, or “I believe in helping people without expecting anything in return.”

Look closer within yourself.

Even if you truly do something for someone without expecting the favor returned, for example: loaning someone money and not asking them to pay you back—may certainly seem like a selfless act. But think for a second and ask yourself: if you were loaning a close friend some money, would you feel good about yourself? Would you feel happy or pleased with yourself knowing you committed a genuine and true act of selflessness? If your answer is yes, then you’ve already  subconsciously inserted your conditions upon this act. So the question is, was the act that you committed truly genuine? Does this concept of “being genuine” even exist in nature? I’m not so sure.

Now before you get all angry about what I’m saying here, which is: deep-down even the most selfless of individuals have their own self-serving  conditions they place on the world—just remember–this is a theory I’m trying to work out. You can take it or leave it. But I believe that I am on to something.

If doing something for someone else, makes you feel like a better person, you are indeed placing the conditions of your happiness on other people. And that’s not fair.

Unconditional love is supposed to be tragic, not the fairytale people are deluded into believing. True unconditional love destroys you, because you do things for someone because you have to, to keep on breathing; not because you want to.

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Aug 20 2011
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life, philosophy

Push, Pull, and Struggle.

Dark and light--by me.

I realize that I was meant to struggle because I am strong enough to handle it.

If everybody accepted the fact that they were destined to struggle from birth to death, everyone would be better off. Capitalism has just fogged our destiny, but it has always been there, this is not a new concept.

Whether we like it or not, we are all victims of reality, anyone who disagrees is delusional about their own mortality. Accepting destiny or the struggle does not make anybody a victim, however, it allows us to keep on trucking, no matter what ends up happening.

I wish people would stop trying to escape struggle. It is kind of strange actually…going through life struggling not to struggle. The jokes on you. Humanity’s greatest laugh of all.

Although, by accepting the definiteness of your struggle, you are enlightened yet cursed.

Enlightened because you can see all the possibilities your struggle can take you; cursed because these possibilities overwhelm you to numbness. The desire to pursue one possibility over another forms a cloud of regret over your head–raining all over you.

I guess the question you have to ask yourself is, “Do I want to accept my struggle?”

By accepting struggle you allow yourself to move beyond the trivial and ominous path of the fanatical happiness, and finality of loneliness that shelters you from the fear of living.

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Apr 13 2010
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life, philosophy

Things Only Exist by Mistake…and oh… Love is Evil.

Slavoj Zizek is Marxist critical theorist whose works are heavily influenced by Lacanian psychoanalysis. He has written pieces commenting on political theory, belief, and is currently a professor at the European Graduate School. He is most praised for his witty critiques of pop culture and globalism. This clip featured above is from the documentary titled Zizek.

I came across Slavoj Zizek when watching a trailer from the philosophical documentary titled, The Examined Life,where contemporary philosophers such as Judith Butler and Cornel West are all featured in giving their views on the struggles and importance of examining the self.

Even though I had to watch a few clips of Slavoj Zizek a couple times over, due to my inability to comprehend his accent that heavily emphasized words that ended in S’s or H’s, his fundamental examinations and critiques on modern consumerism and culture are right on in my mind.

Maybe I’m morbid or disturbed, but it actually humbles me and makes me feel more comfortable in accepting that the world is just one giant, empty, positively charged mistake—because that would mean that nothing is in our control—so we really don’t have to feel guilty about not giving a shit sometimes!

What I love most about Zizek though, is the manner in which he explains and describes his thought processes and concepts. He delivers them in a way, that even a person who has never taken a philosophy course could understand. His extremely animated presence when talking about the imperfections of the universe almost makes me feel as if I’m watching a genius crack head perform a monologue for a 40oz!

My favorite quote from him so far…

“I dont like the world. “Basically I am somewhere in between where I hate the world, or I am indifferent towards it.”

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Feb 03 2010
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life, path, philosophy, Positivity, revolution

Positivity-A Brief Examination.

Positivity is different from optimism. Positivity is something we all practice, even if we don't know it, while optimism is a way of thinking some chose to take part in consciously.

It has been weeks now since a  7.0 magnitude earthquake delivered unspeakable tragedy among the beautiful people of Haiti. It is times like these when the human condition is called into question, and our realization of our own mortality is flashed before us.

Historic events like this– that awaken our senses, shake our core, and leave us feeling insignificant and small in this complex universe;  is exactly what life is all about. Now, this may not be the most positive conclusion to the meaning of life, but I promise you there will be postivity in this post!

Let me explain. Horrible things happen every day, hell, every second of the day; but despite all these horrible atrocities that plague society, life still goes on. Humans still find life worth living.

Why is this?

Why shouldn’t humanity just give up now? Why shouldn’t we just blow each other up in a nuclear Armageddon? Why should we open the door for an elderly person? Why should we donate money to help others in distress?

Because of positivity.

I’m not talking about the superficial kind of positivity, A.K.A  the delusional obliviousness that a large number of people only practice to protect themselves from reality… its more than that.

What I’m speaking of is the feeling you get when you almost bite the dust, when you step off from that curb and an idiot guy in a BMW almost puts you six feet under. When you see your best friend struggling to cope with an addiction, or a member of your family has been indefinitely buried underneath the concrete remains of an earthquake.

You must be thinking, what the hell am I talking about here?

This positive intuition will not announce itself to you  immediately after an experience of inner turmoil  or a life threatening situation. However, the fact that you care what happens to you and to others, combined with the undeniable conclusion that everyone eventually dies–shines a burning light of hope through you that permeates with others even if you are the most pessimistic of people.

What I’ve come to learn,and what I wish you would consider, is that hope=positivity.

No matter how hard life gets, we hope to overcome the hardships we face, and in doing so we practice positivity whether we know it or not.

Though I may not always see the light at the end of the tunnel every day, I know that it’s there and it will always remain if hope persisits.

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Dec 21 2009
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life, philosophy, words

Encountering Sartre’s “Face” At the DMV.

The most miserable looking person I have ever meet, looked just like this, and has been an employee of the DMV for 25 years.

After almost a month of waiting for my renewed drivers license to come in the mail, I had finally had enough of the waiting. I made an appointment at the DMV yet again, so I could obtain a 60 day temporary license while waiting for my new license to arrive.

Dreading the perpetual atmosphere that usually encompasses an irritating flow of babies screaming and cackling coughs, I forced my way unwillingly through the 3 ‘o clock rush hour crowd of fellow DMV patrons. Thankfully I did make an appointment, so I only waited about 20 minutes. As I waited, instead of observing the refreshing diversity of DMV patrons or “people watching”–assessing outfits, or wondering how many pimpled teens passed their drivers test; I switched views and examined the numbered stations and the employees working behind them.

It was at this point where I encountered this particular employee behind desk 20. Using only words to describe the appearance of this man, really doesn’t even compare to the intensely painful expression I had witnessed on his face. His plump balding head was scabbed and flaked with dandruff, his shirt dusted in it, doubled bridge aviator style glasses layed crooked on his face, looking like someone had just  accidentally knocked them off-center. Though I can describe him physically, the only literal way I can describe the sadden essence of this man is to compare him to what one persons encounters when they realize the face of the “other.” The face of the “other,” is a concept termed by the French philosopher Sartre.

Basically the “face” literally and symbolically describes the raw, unfiltered vulnerability that someone occasionally comes across when staring into the eyes or observing the face of someone else. All of the sudden you can capture, for a brief second, the weaknesses of this other person and are left realizing that the lives of others are essentially what makes up the vast majority of who you are. You are not an individual making your own choices or assuming one role, you chose for the others, you must do everything in your power to live for or help the others…

Snapped out of my observant trance, my ticketed number was called for desk 20; his desk.

I walked over to the desk, looked up, and experienced exactly what Sartre was talking about. I explained my situation with him about the license and all that. However, I started to encourage a little friendly conversation to temporarily distract him from his expressed agony  in which he proceeded to tell me that he was having the worst day of his life. Which would be followed by an hour-long bus ride home, ending with a solo dinner at his favorite Vietnamese restaurant where he knows all the waitresses by name. We had ended up having a 20 minute conversation, and I was worried that his boss would yell at him for lagging but he didn’t seem to care at all. After 25 years of working at the DMV, I wouldn’t care either.

I tried my best for that small, seemingly insignificant moment, to try to cheer him up with a smile or some kind words. It may sound silly or corny but I genuinely wanted to help him.

That day at the DMV, I discovered that my life is nothing without other people, and his life is nothing without other people–and the minute we forget this is the moment we lose our humanity.

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Nov 09 2009
3 Comments
life, path, philosophy, revolution

Stockholm Syndrome, Pre-destination, and Destitution = My Life The Past Couple Weeks.

Me channeling Patty Hearst.

Me channeling Patty Hearst

 

Life as we know it; the Milky Way.

Life as we know it; the Milky Way.

 

moneyless-muppet

Being broke is not as fun as I previously thought.

As the caffeine surges through my body, my hands tremble furiously, nearly every thought I have ever had in my life have all gathered to form a giant stampede through my brain. It is now that I regret the hastily consumption of an iced double shot espresso that I inhaled 15 minutes ago, and it is now that I lose myself in a flurry of, “How did I get here? What do I need to do today? and, didn’t I just buy toilet paper yesterday?”

The incident just described is an incident that I have been going through on an annoyingly  regular basis, which has been a fatiguing drain on my brain. The last weeks leading up to the start of November have undoubtedly been weird ones. I found myself fixating on controversial revolutionaries, cursing passages from Heidegger’s “Being In Time,” (which is like reading hieroglyphics by the way) all why playing the worlds tiniest violin regarding my financial woes or brokeness.

About two weeks ago I decided that I was going to be Patty Hearst for Halloween. The idea kind of just came to me like a prophetic calling after going through numerous costume ideas. However, looking back at the situation, I have concluded that last week I was actually experiencing Stockholm Syndrome. Not in the sense that I was kidnapped from my wealthy cookie cutter life into a militant extremist group via Patty Hearst,  but more in the sense that I have been awakened to escape the Stockholm Syndrome that I call American life.

Maybe this odd awakening or emerging anxiety could be the combination of the caffeine along with the absurdities of Heidegger implying that everything you do in life is basically determined by your culture and other people; pre-destination.  Or maybe I am just finally realizing that being a student with an unreliable job equals being broke if you don’t have a trust fund. I try to imagine myself as a broke intellect, or kidnapped heiress to help me feel cool and romantic about my finacial situation, but it doesn’t work sadly for it is too contrived and unbeleivable!

Yes, this month has been interesting.

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A writer perservers. A Writer endures. A Writer writes because they must

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My goal with this blog is to offend everyone in the world at least once with my words… so no one has a reason to have a heightened sense of themselves. We are all ignorant, we are all found wanting, we are all bad people sometimes.

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