Blar

Blah.

Still alive, just barely it seems.

Just thought you should know. :)

Mellow Out Or You Will Pay

A Magical Mystery Tour Of The Psyche With Werner Erhard And est

by Robert Farr

Argus Magazine, December 1980

(Argus was a monthly student magazine at the University of Maryland, College Park.)


Once upon a time in the West, after Howard Hawks had driven cattle through the Rio Grande, but before Gary Cooper pitched his spit-shined badge into the dust, there lived a man named John Paul Rosenberg. Born in 1935 to Jewish-parents-turned-Christian and baptized in the Episcopalian church, Rosenberg was no ordinary fellow.

When 1960 rolled around, cutting through the complacency of the San Francisco Beats, Rosenberg had surreptitiously denied his polite schoolboy upbringing, defied the best in Judeo-Chirstian tradition and quietly folded his napkin before ditching his wife and kids.

By the time he reached age 30, after losing his golden boy look and shying away from public beaches, John was emulating the propagandists who had been exerting an undue influence on the world since the second World War. The likes of Leni Reinfenstahl, D.W. Griffith and Ticktockman were established propagandists, but Rosenberg saw room at the top.

My Journey into Wonderland and how I woke up to find I was in Hell

from Rick Ross -
http://www.rickross.com/reference/landmark/landmark250.html

A Relationship gone horribly wrong with a Landmark Junkie
October 4, 2007

I am writing this story for two reasons, firstly I hope that by doing so I can warn as many people as possible of the dangers of participating in the hoax that is Landmark Education and second that I might be able to be at peace with what I have been through. Before I begin I would like to stress that I am certainly not an individual that is predisposed to being taken in or scammed. My professional life has been spent dealing with complex, multi million, contract negotiations with some of the most effective and highly trained Salesman and Lawyers on the planet. I am quite literally stunned in the way that my money, my heart, my trust and nearly my own sanity has been so cleverly won over and abused by this hellish organisation. I will actually admit I respect them for that, at the same time as loathing their very existence.

Perfect Garbage

(Everyone is so afraid to just let everyone know what's swirling around inside. I'm not.)

So particular. Everything has to be perfect. Nothing is good enough, When I dismiss the not good enough I start crying and nothing works. I am hopeless. I am nothing. I am having a moment. I have nothing. I am nothing. I am the nothing.

Nobody understands the depths to which I am there with this mindset. I *AM* the nothing. Such a zen moment. Not really though since I cannot really let go of the feeling I have for her. But it's not there. It's *NOT* there. I have nothing for her. Only her sex remains. And it's feeble at best. It's a shallow garbage feeling surrounded by hormones.

It's so familiar and it's just a garbage feeling.
Surrounded by hormones.

I need to stop thinking.

I think about the stupid shit that happened 3 years ago.. a dream I had, later it would turn out to be one of the biggest nightmares of my life to this point.

Nobody ever said I was sane.

The end of an era ~ it happens in all things. My mom has her own era that is ending as I have my own era that has ended. I prolonged my own end tho. Nobody knows my mom's pain, and nobody knows mine. It's all good, this is the conclusion and everything ends eventually. Some people extend the inevitable and never really realize the fullness of the situation until it happens to them, and then they cannot deal with it.. Crack. Failure. Falling apart.

Maybe I don't know mine.

Fast forward to 2008

I remember driving my Dad to Pizza Hut to go get some stuffed cheese pizza things. I did a fine job that day with the clutch. Dad never noticed which I guess was an approval rating. Thank goodness for those long easy to drive Toyota clutches. The food was ok, but not spectacular. My Dad's wallet had not changed since I last saw it, overstuffed, black leather, too many items.

I remember way too many details and I just cannot quite make them all come together into a cohesive whole.

So melodramatic, so emo once again. Fuck it.

6   472   2.22%   472   2.69%   30565   1.33%   4   0.48%

Peanut Brain

Thinking about checking the stats, she's been at it again. I wonder why in the world she still insists in looking at the site. I suppose there's some sort of yearning there. Even though I don't like the thought, she knows she lost something as well. Hrmmm. Her loss, my loss. Are they the same? I don't know the answers here. She still continues and I have intentionally forgotten to remember. I always had such a way with words, but words are not enough to explain what's going on inside the peanut brain.

Meanwhile. Her new website project seems to be petering out. She has not posted in a month. Pretty good for a content driven site /sarcasm. I guess it's kinda hard talking about yourself under the guise of Bento Boxes. She should just go back to plain blogging about herself. It might be more productive. :/

One Day

One day it just stopped hurting and I felt no need to think about her. And then I'm at it again, thinking about her, her smell her body her sex. That's the power of the pussy talking to me. It's not really love, or is it? I don't have the answers any more and it frightens me, this vast emptiness I used to call my life. It's strangely peaceful. There is something broken deep inside there and I don't know quite how to fix it yet. Or whether I really want it to be fixed? I don't feel it anymore for anyone and that's a scary place to be for me.

Sad Reflection

It's funny how I can feel the same way inside, over a year and a half later.

I guess she was really important to me.

They say it takes half of the time in the relationship to get over the relationship....
Oh, well. I guess it's time to face the facts and move on.

It's really stupid of me, though. She treated me so badly. Honestly I don't really know who she is. Oh, the power of the pussy.

Flaccid excuses

So she texts me, "Did you get a call from E's School today?"

WHAT? Why the fuck would she bother asking me that? Apparently she did not bother to change the emergency contact numbers. Oh, sigh.

Such a facile flaccid lame excuse. What a waste of time. Why did she bother to even contact me about this? As if it even matters anymore. Lame.

So I told her to change the number and "no more plz". Maybe she'll understand that I don't ever want to talk to her again? Maybe?

Seems oddly coincidental to the 3/24 "A Message" blog post which was also on my website...

Ughhh...

Woke up from a bad dream ~ Where I was arguing with E about A. OMG that was weird. Really weird.... As if E was an adult now.

Sigh, time moves on and I just cannot seem to forget.
Time has moved on without me and I seem to be just standing still here.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

I hope she gets the message and never visits again, because if she does I'm going to have to block the IP address. OR do some creative PHP host redirection? Sigh. Whatever. What would it be for anyways?

What's this for?

A message.

You are a faint echo in my Apache http logs
Will you please go away and leave me
In peace.
This way I can forget you
and the wrong you have done to me,
so I can move on with my life
In peace.

Please leave me alone.

Unless you mean it.

Prove me wrong, or just leave me
In peace.

This is a plea.
For you to be good to me,
As well as yourself.

It's goodbye, you know.
So please make it so.

Look she is in third

The monkey is back... on my back.


It's makes me wonder... what is her point? Why is she looking? If she cared she would be around. I guess her need for imagined safety outstripped her love of me. Oh, sigh.

She comes back for what she's missing.
She comes back for what she has lost.
She comes back for her fix.
She comes back because she wants so see me talking about her some more.
She comes back because she wants so see me crying.

I suppose she gets some sort of sick pleasure looking at the artwork I make about her.

You would figure she would get tired of looking.

She's not my problem anymore, why am I talking about this?

Tearing Apart

I've been falling apart all day so far. I was falling apart last night. Why am I so upset... she's so not worth it if she's not here. I'm stupid.

4:15
Getting a little better, picking up the pieces of my fragile psyche off of the floor where *I* dropped them. It's silly of me to think in this direction, no light at the end of that tunnel...

2009 in progress

Not sure if it's progress. I've added some blue and pasted some clippings, girls and newspaper articles. Not much has changed for this one in a very long time, say late 2007 or so. I suppose that appropriately fits with what this painting is about. Nothing has changed. That's ok. It's a done thing, There is no moving forward with my desires so I must change direction here.

I need to burn this shit.
Oh, but it's too precious isn't it.

Oh, damn. So melodramatic. :(

Melody 1997

Melody - Acrylic and concrete on plywood, 1997

I did this piece under the aura of a really bad breakup. It took me about a month to complete, I was in a 'zone' with this one, that's for sure. I found the concrete covered piece of plywood at a contruction site as I was walking around the neighborhood one night. Some of the things I distinctly remember those nights is the Hale-Bopp comet in the sky, plainly visible to the naked eye. I also remember the suicidal deaths of all those Heaven's Gate people. Super positive thoughts, eh? I really was not thinking about that bad stuff, I was very inside my own inner world at the time and it really did not affect me until much later. I clammed up in a way. Past is past and hindsight is 20/20.

To this day this is one of my most prized paintings.
Sorry Catherine. :(


On the way to the mothership, 1997

Thirty-eight of the group members, plus Applewhite, the group's leader, were found dead in a rented mansion in the upscale San Diego community of Rancho Santa Fe, California, on March 26, 1997. Two former members of Heaven's Gate, Wayne Cooke and Charlie Humphreys, later died in copycat suicides. Humphreys had survived a suicide pact with Cooke in May 1997, but successfully committed suicide in February 1998. The mass death of the Heaven's Gate group was widely publicized in the media as an example of cult suicide.

The suicide was accomplished by ingestion of phenobarbital mixed with vodka, along with plastic bags secured around their heads to induce asphyxiation. They were found lying neatly in their own bunk beds, with their faces and torsos covered by a square, purple cloth. Each member carried a five dollar bill and three quarters in their pockets. All 39 were dressed in identical black shirts and sweat pants, brand new black-and-white Nike athletic shoes, and armband patches reading "Heaven's Gate Away Team." The suicides were conducted in shifts, and the remaining members of the group cleaned up after each prior group's death.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heaven%27s_Gate_(religious_group)

Loathing 1998

Loathing 1998

I was not very happy when I was doing this one. Living in a tiny hole of a place on Woodland Ave in San Rafael, it was really dark and gloomy. Like deep sea fish, my paintings lost most of their color and became albino. Very strange. The only thing of color is that damn purple couch. I guess I was trying to tell myself I needed a rest! Soft comfortable couches!! AAAHHHH!!!

The original picture of the angry guy was made in my sketchbook on a bus on the way to the subway station to go to the Hirschorn Museum when I was interning in college. Now that's alot of run-on information!! :/ I remember the bus shaking and shaking... I could not draw. After a while I got used to it and this guy came out of the pen. The NYPD is a reference to the years I spent in New York.. DUH. And it's a straight jacket. Figure that one out. :(

The tiny head of Christina Aguilera is a joke Jonah played on me when I was scanning these paintings. Thanks Jonah. You fucker. :)

Womb 1995

Womb 1995

Living in New York upper east side. Nice neighborhood, actually. Except go up one more block and it's spanish harlem with tons of drug dealers. yay! This was the excitement of NYC for me.

Riding my bike down Lexington Avenue one day, I find this awesome piece of Luon with back framing, just lying there in the street. It says to me, "Take me now, I am free!". So I do! I take it home and make love to it with my paintbrush, and it's never the same again.

There is human hair in this one, it creates a great texture.
I wish I had hair still. Oh, well.

I have dryer lint now. Give me all your dryer lint. Collect it in a box. Just for me. It will be enshrined.

The past is very heavy and becomes heavier.
Tchus!

Silence 2007

Silence 2007

Strange days, I hardly remember this one. I think I started the background layout in late 2004 just before I met Angela. There's porno in there! LOL! More cushy furniture to add to the couches of Teacher and Loathing. I seem to like to draw furniture alot. Maybe it's that damn plastic covered roach infested couch I remember from my eighth grade friend Ricky's house ~ back when my mind had no borders. Damn that couch was always greasy. They were always cooking fried chicken or fried something, and they never took baths. STRANGE PEOPLE TO ME NOW. Oh, well. I was 13 or something and I really did not give a flying fuck. It was all fun and games to me. Like I said, I did not have any mental border walls. Time to tear those motherfuckers down. I really wonder where Ricky is now. Ricky Powell, where are you now? :)

The Monkey

I was wrong, actually.... She comes to sit on my back for a few megabytes every month or so.

I guess I should just grin and bear it.

But at least it not like she has nothing to see, I create a tasty tidbit just for her. Sniff sniff, snap!


2 Face 3 - Revision G
(No real title yet)

This one is still not done. Why do they always take so damn long???

The Depression Blender

Depression is a motherfucker people.

I guess I have good reason. I have good reason I guess.

The love of my life left me. I wasn't the love of her life, though. It all ends. She'll never know me. She will never know me. She still continues to look though.
Look look look. You won't understand. You'll never find.. what's inside. Inside of who though? Nevermind, go back to your Forum, they know your secret.

My father passed away. We never really said what needed to be said. Or did we? I spent some nights in his car weeks afterwards... When I couldn't sleep I would grab the car key, walk out there at midnight - everything completely silent. Climb in, start the car. The smell of his car ~ The seat he sat in ~ the steering wheel worn at 10 and 2. Listening to Little Feat ~ Waiting for Columbus ~ and crying to myself all the while. How pitiful that scene was. Was he watching? I honestly don't know. I guess at the time I was hoping that that was the case. Hoping for a better place. Hoping for existence. Hoping for continuation. I wanted him to know that I care. I care so much.

Driving his car to the Wal-Mart. Must go find a baby phlegm sucker thing to suck the nasty from his mouth, he can't breathe. Searching searching in vain. I will always remember feeling completely hopeless to do anything to relieve his situation. I just cannot realize that he is dying before my eyes. This is the final sleep and I was not accepting it.

Nothing lasts forever. And we waste it away. Countless opportunities just thrown into the garbage. It's sad, isn't it.

Now. I snap.

The depression just fades away and I realize the short end of the existence we all lead here on this planet. I am here. I am me. For what it's worth I'm actually very happy and proud of the things I have done. I do the best I can.

But there could be more. There can always be more.

This is my life. People have disappeared from it, but I still exist. I'm not done, not by a long shot.

The gas in my Dad's car is really low. Tomorrow I should go get a full tank and go out to Tiburon and watch the bay for a little bit. He would like that.

Sucks

I keep meaning to write... but I really have nothing to say. :/

Sometimes it sucks being me.

Keyboard lameness.

Oh, and another thing. Razer sucks because their rubber coated keys are becoming rubber uncoated in less than a month. GREAT. Time to return and see if the logitech keyboard can put up with my hardcore beating.

BTC X
Saitek X
Razer X
Logitech ?

Crap on that position.

I had something smart to say, but I'm wasted. Way too wasted these days. Too many hours spent thinking and not remembering the next day.

I'm going to paint over the messages I wrote to her. She is going to be systematically erased. This is where she deserves to be in my heart.

This life continues without you.
That's easy for you to say.

So god damned dramatic.
What a pathetic pose this is.
Loser.

...

I fucking hate this $80 keyboard. Fucking Razer can't get the damn key spacing right. Fucking lame.

The grand petering out.

Well, she seems to be staying away. I suppose this is a good thing. I can't help but be a little sad about it though. Of course this is just based on my observation of her IP address from my webserver stats. She could be accessing from any WIFI hotspot on the berkeley campus which I know she has done before, hrmmmm.

Facebook Exchange:

E: Why
A: because.
E: Angry
A: okay.
E: No

So completely and utterly sad. Sigh.
Flogging the dead horse of what our relationship could have been.
This is the grand end of it, and I'm basically numb. I don't fucking care anymore.
She was just a barnacle or a leech anyways. Why should I be sad? Why?
She just found a new boat to mindlessly attach to, no distinctions are necessary.

Slurp slurp.

It's not getting any easier

It does not get any easier. Still think about Dad once in a while.. More often than I'd like to admit, actually. Still makes me weepy. Afraid of death. Maybe not afraid but just sad before the fact. It's going to keep happening to me again and again. This losing people thing is never going to get any easier.

I still think about her as well. It's a bit easier, she isn't much to me anymore. I'm more resolved now, for real this time. (ha.) No more, it's done. No you cannot be my friend. You decided that a while ago and you aren't ever coming back. This losing people thing is never going to get any easier.

Next!