Sick At Home May 10, 2019

For the last few days, mostly yesterday, and a little bit the day before, I have been a bit sick.  A minor cold, but yesterday especially I felt the great wonderful feeling of just wanting to lie about, and it was nice, because that was the primary priority that I was to be doing.  It was the ideal activity for getting better, and I think it was also a nice help for cleansing more and quitting more of the smoking that I had recently re-quit (like 3-4 days free off it, after going at cigars and cigarettes for over two weeks, bleh!).  So getting sick, as I like to say, is still one of the best ways to quit smoking.  And in general, I think it offers a nice little life reset.  I am already starting to feel the incoming fresh energies, so I am curious to see where this goes.

Although now that I think of it, I don’t like using this phrase here – “I’m curious to see where this goes.”  While of course the curiosity is a good thing, I don’t like this mentality of the new age to just be “open to where it goes.”  Because I am wanting to learn how to take charge of my life, to have a role in directing where it goes.

Ok that is a good place to start.  (Good – now in this write-up, you are reading and witnessing me think as I write in the present.  Most of this I will not edit, except I will edit a little here and there for clarity, but it is fun having insights occurring as I am typing, which isn’t necessarily *new* for me at all, but it is often something that I don’t share with people, except when talking in the moment, and most of them don’t get super curious – they just kind of stand there either awe-struck or waiting until the crazy man stops talking.

ANYWAYS…let’s go back to “that is a good place to start.”  Because “…to have a role in directing where it goes” makes a nice agreement and ‘working with’ energy as opposed to either A) just seeing where it goes or B) forcefully trying to take dictator control of where it goes.

So to re-emphasize, “to have a role in directing where it goes” seems like a nice starting point, a place where the energy is still relaxed, but that I am playing a role, that I do have control at least in some arena.  Both are important.  And now I am rambling.

What then would my role be?  Choosing my physical location seems possible.  Creating and making specific plans is *still* a very delicate process for me, because it’s hard to get a balance point between “doing nothing” and “forcing a rigid structure that feels confining.”  He did already write a few things down today which seems like a good direction to go.

(Why is it a good direction?)

  1. It’s very simple.  I’m still recovering from the sickness, so nothing too huge.  Also not very confining because they are a list of 4 things, 1-3 words each.
  2. The activities are geared toward points of growth I think would help me better direct my growth.
  3. There is plenty of space within the perception of these activities and directions to infuse a more epic story, or a bigger picture, or more depth, (or a certain phrasing I can’t quite put to words right now), rather than just going along completing meaningless, unfulfilling tasks.


I’m going to stop here because this is getting too long, and has stopped going anywhere.  But was a good practice.  “Serenity” by Godsmack just started playing on Pandora, and the lyrics mentioned “thoughts….” and “When will we learn to control?”

Because as you can see, even in this post I was fairly scattered, but I do believe it is possible to, like the building energies I was talking about earlier, to more focusedly direct that shit rather than just scatter-gun it.

P.S.  Also I do want to add that being sick at home has helped me get more into the feeling of “home” at my new home.  I’m still just 2 weeks new here, and prior to this home, I have been mostly wandering the roads for 8 months, so it’s a big transition for me, but really important.

Portland Observations




What would I like to talk about first?

(Organize by events?)


Portland is still a curious mystery.  The initial arrival into the city had me thinking it was sort of unimpressive.  I crossed the Columbia River in Vancouver, the north end in Washington, and everything looked like just another ordinary city.

But continuing south on the freeway, taller buildings opened up on the horizon on a small hill which looked to be the real heart of Portland.


So this brings up point number one: Portland really is this small isolated city, and surrounding it is lots of the civilized wasteland of America that consists of mostly nothing.  It seems to create this pocket, because wandering around Portland, you don’t feel the busyness of the outside world.  It remains distinctly Portland, and a small feel that can allow you to not feel claustrophobic or surrounded.  (In fact, walking around on the East Side, you borderline forget that the rest of the world is there).  The traffic sucks and is not fun to drive in, but I was just informed upon coming to the hostel tonight (Tuesday the 26th) that the public transportation in the area is really good, that in addition to the busses, which I saw one cute girl with bangs get on earlier this evening, there are some cool trains that are cheap and easy to maneuver with (I have since ridden a bus, and yes it is quite nice and easy.  Sadly, no cute girls with bangs on my bus…bangs…bus…bangbus…heh).


But I didn’t start out in Portland.  I started in the Columbia Valley River Gorge area.  I wanted to do some hiking in this area of majestic-looking photographs, and as I drove along highway 14 along the the river, there was some very pretty scenery of the gorge.  I stopped off at this locking causeway dam to use the bathroom, started singing the Goldeneye James Bond theme song, and there I found out that just across the highway from the dam was where a section of the Pacific Crest Trail cut through.  Fuck YES that was PERFECT.




(MORE on the gorge and PCT…)


I headed up the hill looking for a cafe to look out over the Portland area and chill and write and drink a coffee.  I never found a cafe, but I did find an awesome forest called Washington Park (Or Mcklennan Park, or Forest Park?  I would ask people later about the park on the hill on the west side, and they never fucking agreed on what the name was) that had these mossy stairs (*picture of staircase*).  I wandered these woods with other exercisers and nature-goers.  Found an Indian statue titled “Coming of the White Man,” and these Indians looked pointedly on alert, haha.


At the top of the park, I found a dude and chick who were bicycling.  As I approached them while they were stopped, she put a miniature boom box in his back bicycle pouch that played music.  Hell yeah.


Coming out of the park, I found a construction man who assured me that if I followed the road under construction, I would loop back down to the main city area.  I followed this loop around what appeared to be a giant hole in the ground with a giant wall.  I asked a construction chick what she was making: “What are you making?” and she got confused.  “What am I making?”  And I said “Well, your group.  You are a part of it, right?”  I at least wanted her to feel like a contribution to whatever bigness was going on, haha.  And she said it was a renovation of the dam I think.  Which is kind of interesting, because I think I heard there are a lot of dams at work in the area being built or restored, and maybe some nature people are opposed to the environmental impact or something.  Personally I don’t know.  Dams are impressive looking structures and a neat source of power, and a really cool scene in the James Bond film “Goldeneye,” but a big part of me wonders if it is like rivers are veins and arteries of a continent, and if you are damming them, then no good can come of that (just like in your body).

(Although….Beavers build dams and that seems to be ok…and water seems to have an uncanny ability to just redirect itself and follow new courses wherever it goes…so maybe dams aren’t bad, I dunno…but Beaver dams are SMALL, and very UNobtrusive to the flow of the river, and while dams may not be harmful to the river or water, they *may* be harmful to the land, just like damming veins or arteries isn’t bad for your blood, it would probably be bad for your body.  ANYWAYS…)


Then I came out of the above and down back into the main city.  Great.

And so the above hilly area was awesome.  Reminded me of The Goonies in the beginning where they all live.  Very iconic of the Pacific Northwest I think with the hills and mossy trees of the Ewok home and the *coolest shaped houses in the U.S.,* many of which can look almost like castles.  (Maybe it’s a hybrid of traditional New England Houses with Southern Plantation Houses and Southern Coastal Houses?  That seems like a fairly accurate description).  However, I knew this area was probably for the rich fockers, which my Lyft driver accurately described later as “Yuppies.”  Those people with big money from elsewhere coming to cool places.  The houses still looked neat, and someone’s front garden smelled SO WONDERFUL (LOTS of neat houses in East Portland too…some almost with yes a very much ‘swampy’ feel that was also apparent in Wilmington, NC…so that’s interesting).


Came back toward my hostel because I could tell I needed to use the bathroom.  Good thing too because it was getting ready to rain, so my umbrella in the trunk of my car finally got some awesome use.


Ate breakfast at the hostel.  Got a little mentally lost browsing the internet’s future plans for my upcoming road trip and stuff.  Muddled my noggin’ good.  Shits.  Finally left to clear my head and began wandering toward Powell’s Book Store, a famous used book store in Portland.  Browsed the books, spent too much time and muddled my head again, haha, but thankfully I ended up turning down 2 of the 4 books I had in my hand (I really have no business getting 4 books, seriously).  Left to clear my head and wander further.


Made my way down to what I think was Old Town.  Saw Voodoo Donuts and yes, they had the line.  So no, I wasn’t going to wait.  One dude complimented my “Salt Pouch,” which technically I guess that is what it might have been intended for in the store I bought it, and other people like to call it a “fanny pack” or “purse,” but after hearing the name pouch, I think I liked that, but henceforth it is my “Jones Pouch,” aptly named for Indiana Jones.  (Traditionally I have viewed it in a military-esque fashion as something for my missions or operations, but Jone’s exploration is much better I think.  At least for now).


I tell him thank you, but then he wants a dollar.  “No thanks,” I say, and continue further.  Looking for a cafe or place to have lunch, I wander, and eventually cross a bridge over into Portland on the other side of the river, which I would come to learn is quite different).  Spent a lot of time on the middle of the bridge taking in the awesome views up and down the river with the rain lightly falling while holding my umbrella and the rumbling of the bridge under my feet as traffic pounded over.  A good moment that I was hesitant to leave.


Started wandering the eastern side of the river.  First thing I ran into was a small glaive with a tree in the middle and some of those balancing stones.  And above the glade, EVEN MORE stones (*See two pictures*)  These balancing stones are seemingly massively popular across the sates (and maybe the globe?  I dunno), mostly I think with new-age-neo-spiritual crowds.  And I fucking hate them.  Haahah.  I think they are pretentious as fuck, and happily when I saw a few by the river in Spokane, I kicked them all over.  YES!!!  (If you see these stones, I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about, like they give you the impression that you think you really shouldn’t knock them over, like it would be sacrilege to someone else’s creation or whatever, but I happily read some Forest Ranger’s article that “No, we do not want you to create balancing stones.  Please leave them as they lie.”  Haha.  And I like to knock over people’s metaphorical “pretentious stones).”  I DID NOT, however, knock over these stones because there was some homeless looking dude in the glade, and I don’t need to piss off the local hipsters too much too quickly (although I DID tear off one of their “EATING ANIMALS” bumper stickers ‘cleverly’ placed on a STOP sign haha).  It’s not like I felt anything spiritual about the glade, and that is what I thought it was made to look like, but in case it is a meaningful spot, I’m not right away wanting to jump in and fuck with it either and earn some animosity of some spirits.  (I’ve actually been running up against lots of PETA people in recent months or years, so either their movement is growing, or maybe I should experiment with not eating animals for a month or so, see how my body and mind reacts.  The point is that gorillas don’t eat meat and they are still beastly fucking boys).


After the stone debacle, I shortly came to what I will call the “Hawthorne District” (based upon the other Hosteling International Hostel that is over there) and I decided to make the other Hostel my general destination in a roundabout fashion.


And it was wandering over here still pondering this mystery and confusion and curiosity that was Portland that some beginning solid idea began to take hold.  It was “If Portland were a color, then it would be like a dull orange, like a faded rust color, almost a brown.  But rust in a positive sense, which is hard to pinpoint.”  Conveniently, around this time there were some perfect pictures to help illustrate the idea that was forming.  So rust in a positive way, like maybe an old heirloom that is ready to be polished off.  Or a brown, where it would be a combination of a great many things and colors, but mixed together in a sort of confusing sense.  (*See two pictures, building and orange puddle*).


So yeah, it was definitely positive (albeit nothing so glorious), and I began to feel that maybe Portland itself had a vague or confusion notion about itself, which I came to love as more time and pondering went on because I thought that matched me rather well, and this is perhaps why I was having difficult pin-pointing how I felt about its murkiness because I have the same struggle in myself, and for anyone that has given it any effort whatsoever, it can be a struggle to pinpoint and get a feel for who they really are.


Some examples of this brown confusion of mixture – the yuppies on the hill.  The obvious Far Left Liberals with the BLM and Impeach Trump signs, and interestingly enough a strong element of “Resist” Movement that seems like some sort of Feminist thing, although likely radicalized to some degree, like they want to see themselves as soldiers or something.  [TOO funny that we played “Resistance” last night, and DOUBLY fun(ny) and interesting that EVERY game I was a SPY hahhhah].  But add to this the amount of strip joints, including the one I went to last night where the bouncer was happy to be open about his support of Trump.  He said that someone once asked if he was nervous about voicing it in this environment, but he was like “I’d like to see them step up” (because as a bouncer should be, he was a big solid dude who is not afraid, and likely eager, to see someone want to fight him).  Not that he will go looking for a fight (unless maybe he’s drunk?), but he is more than happy to have one come his way I suppose.

(And this was the second time that I’d heard Conservatism wasn’t THAT unheard of in the Portland area.  Just at a wedding I was at in Spokane, my good friend and old roommate John said he was definitely interested in the Portland area, and he is about as Texas conservative as you can get, although he is an intellectual too, and a fairly good open-minded thinker).


ANYWAYS, can’t explain too much of the intuitive feelings I get of places and people, because likely it is like:

  1. Doesn’t make enough sense to people, and I don’t like trying to explain those things if people aren’t going to get it anyways and
  2. It might be like a Joke, where if you try to explain it, it won’t be funny.  Like the explanation might TAKE AWAY from the sense of it.




I continued wandering on and the Hawthorne District was awesome, my favorite, which I wasn’t expecting because it didn’t have the hills.  It was more flat, but far more “small town college” feel of lots of beautiful trees and scenic walking areas, quiet.  Probably more of a cultural and creative side, (where the west end of the river was more money, yuppies, tourists, and partiers.  Funny enough, my Lyft driver later pretty much confirmed this.  Which was NICE to witness, because I’m really good with this shit, even if I still lack much confidence in the work.  She said she even picks up so many people from the east side of the river to take them home back across the river to the west side haha).  Found the best vintage clothing store in the world where I only had a short time inside, but found a great jacket that was described as “Sexy, stylish, vintage Navy harbormaster jacket.”  Perfect long blue lighter coat for spring/summer with gold buttons.  I think I’ll have to go back there tomorrow if I have time because there were so many other potential treasures.


So Portland…after 1.5 days…it is still ‘City of Mystery,’ but not mystery as “big glowy mysterious” but mystery as maybe in “Archaelogical site” or gemstone in the dirt or something…there is much to be unearthed here I think.  Even my hike yesterday when I found the Pacific Coast Trail was symbolic in that it’s an amazing epic hike far off from what mainstream America would do, and yet I crossed this cool ass bridge called “Bridge of the Gods” that had no pedestrian way, so you’re blaringly crossing right next to cars, and I imagine this would feel shockingly disjointed for anyoen that truly hiked the PCT for months on end.  A shellshock with civilization.  And yes even when I crossed, there was a small tourist town I went down into because there was a park right on the river below I spotted, but the town felt really out of place with the rest of the hike.


Thus, Portland is this tiny little spot in the midst of a sprawling mass of rest of city that is a city of not really anything.  And so far it creates a nice strange little bubble that I can’t quite put my finger on yet.  And again, it’s not like a strong driving curiosity, those things which are EASY to follow, like a big cave or old castle or whatever, but more like a ‘quiet riddle?’  (Maybe like a painting that catches your eye for some unbeknownst reason you don’t know why, but you find yourself just staring at it for hours, seeing more and more?  Hmm…





Departing Portland this morning.  I added a *tiny few* notes above this morning to clarify some points, and did some small edits.  One thing I forgot to mention was on my first night in Portland, walking around it seemed like it was really “dark,” like not well lit.  Not sinister dark, not dangerous dark (although I’m sure those elements exist – I’ve heard tales of various break-ins, so that seems popular), but I have decided it is ‘shadowy dark,’ which I absolutely love.  And oddly enough someone I asked about this didn’t seem to think it was dark at all.  So maybe it was just me noticing this, maybe not.  But maybe the dark and the shadows also have something to do with helping keep it a mystery and a bubble.


I learned there is also a solid occult community in the area which I am excited about.  My barber/hairstylist yesterday named Lida, who would be PERFECT for my future beard and hairstyle (she mentioned “Skullet or Jedi Rat-tail,” which I thought would be awesomely perfect for my future).


I also found Mt. Tabor, a giant hill-mound in East Portland that just kind of rizes up out of nowhere, but is really neat for views and stepping out into nature for a bit.  And walking more in East Portland, yes definitely confirm a good small town feel.  Many many many blocks and streets over there are super chill and easy and pleasant to stroll down.


And Portland feels less rusty this morning.  I think that analogy still really fits for some days and areas maybe, but it may be changing.  CLAY might be a better image for it?  Hmm…lots of cool mossiness everywhere though, so can’t ignore that part.  And overlooked, unappparent mystery that doesn’t necessarily dazzle but slowly draws one in is still rather fitting.  (Like a good hike?  Hmm…)


ANYWAYS…that’s about it.


  1.  Final Notes

Last night at the titti club, so many girls and so few guys, overwhelming haha felt like my eyes were popping out, wanting to look everywhere, not just at the scandily clad or naked girls, but at the dynamics and the situation and the environment…who the people were, how they were reacting, etc.  Also kind of curious to watch the stripper in the way she moves her whole body and form, rather than just watch her eyes, boobs, ass or pussy.


But more importantly, when I got dropped off by my cool Lyft driver back at the hostel, some either drunk or crack-dude stumbling about tried to talk to me or ask me a question, and I do what is best and completely ignore them and not give them attention, but he kept persisting and trying to ask and talk to me, and when he recognized I wasn’t going to talk to him, I heard a loud “FUCK YOU” before I got in the hostel and gently closed the locked door behind me lol.  

Which brings up a side note is that while in Portland, I noticed a lot of people yelling at different times.  So I wonder if it is a yelly city, or just something I was queuing in on while I was here for a few days.  I mean the yelling would make sense if they really do strong radical groups…


Another Devastating Blow March 16, 2019

“Yesterday, our ship suffered major catastrophic damage to the hull, but thankfully none of the crew were life-threateningly injured or killed.  And the good news, after the day’s devastation was all said and done, was the Captain still had the wherewithal to do a damage-assessment and check on the crew.  He did not succumb in entirety this time to the wallows of despair.”

It is one of those things that really pisses me off about this journey, and it is also something with which I have made no peace whatsoever yet – the only mantras that I have tried to attempt to adopt was “Why do we fall, Bruce?” and “When you are going through hell, keep going.”  Because it isn’t any sort of “Heroic Journey” or “Deep spiritual undertaking” or any of that nonsensical bullshit the Joy-Crack Peddlers peddle (I love this term I’ve coined: Joy-Crack Peddlers).  Fuck them and their flowers and their promises of peace and serenity.

Because yeah, it seems to be the encouragement, at least for me, to “Create, plan, make your own way, pursue your desires!” but whenever I begin to try and adopt these methods, and whenever I begin to make just the least amount of progress, then WHAM from nowhere-in-fucking-particular comes an emotional / psychological breakdown where I can’t fucking function.  (Hence my jaded bitterness that may or may not be recognizeable in this post, but is in much of the way I live my life.  However, people don’t get to see it, because the only appropriate response whenever someone asks: “How are you?” is “Good, how are you?”).

ANYWAYS…in recovery mode this morning, and from the wake of our devastating blow, we are at least appreciating and making more use of “The Silence.”

And here are two side-stories from this morning:


Side Story 1

Pre-breakfast, while collecting food in the buffet room, I am once again pondering how I am going to complete my homework, which I fucking dread.  And it is terribly difficult for me to creatively accomplish tasks, which my homework requires, when I am dreadfully fucking dreading it.  It’s like I can just take the slave-master’s whippings and try to slog through it, or I can stay away and try to creatively do whatever it takes to change my mindset and approach to it (Neither strategies are at this point very effective, by the way).

So while collecting my food, I did ask one of those semi-useful questions: “What is one thing [anything] that would help you with your homework today?”

And at this moment I look up, and across the room I see a smiling dude with short black hair, and I think: “If Nicolas Cage came to hang out.”

(Haha. Sometimes why I love my thoughts and me – they aren’t always fucking assholes…in fact, my thoughts making me frequently laugh is one of those few consolations that keeps me going).


Side Story 2

Post-breakfast, I am sitting at my table with my unfinished glass of water and coffee in front of me (fuck you coffee, you last-bastion-of-addictions-that-pretends-to-be-harmless), and I sink (not physically) a little deeper into what I like to experience and refer to as “The Silence” (basically put, a mostly silencing of thought – I uncovered this last summer and have been playing/dabbling with it ever since).  The Silence was really the only thing that was at all therapeutic yesterday after our meltdown, after our Starship suffered heavy losses, hence my continued fixation and fascination with it since.  And I pepper in *just a few* sprinklings of intentional/imaginary thought, or those thoughts that may have arisen and were at least semi-positive, meaning they were more positive than my current state of overall being.

And as I’m happily beginning to enjoy this interplay of mixing The Silence with a peppering of positive maintained thoughts / imaginations (Probably 80:20 ratio, silence:thought-sprinkles), 3 people walk around my table behind me.  One of them ever-so-slightly bumps into my chair.  I slowly turn my head and think:

“Dude, I will fucking snap your neck in two.”

(Ha, that still makes me giggle a little as I type it out…)


And finally, I’ve attached a pretty good insight and positive hand grenade that has spawned from some of my homework research (Heh…just came up with that bit of the hand grenade…nice work, Sir).

Addictions Quote

——————————— ———————————–

*Special Author’s Note* I have decided to add this addendum to add a flicker of positivity to what I deem an overall negative, albeit honest, post.  While sitting down to work on some homework, I saw a dude wearing a shirt that read: “Train. Reign.” (with Reign printed below Train, both words in big capitalized letters covering the shirt). 

And DESPITE the [seemingly inevitable] emotional and psychological breakdowns that I experience, I still happily hold to the FACT that: “Regardless of my inability to control the rest of my life, I still have the power to shape my ass into a nice firm shapely booty.”  The gym and body sculpture reamins one of my fixed points of “If nothing else, At least this I can do.”

*End Note*

Pisces Moon Cycle March 12, 2019

We’re approaching the First Quarter of this Pisces Moon Cycle, and while things are still belonging to the realm of the murkiness and the depths, you have found maneuverability within that murkiness and the depths.  Intentionally providing yourself the motivation and movement has been key, which is funny because one of the Astrologers you watched on Youtube who did a New Moon forecast talked about “This is the lazy man’s river, and it is an ideal time to just let the river take you and flow about.”

That has been quite the opposite of my experience.  Yes, the laziness is there, but no, there is no real flow to it.  If I sit, then I become immersed and emeshed in a sticky tar, buried in layers of taffy.  Yes, proceeding can feel like wading your way through a thick fog, and there is rather little feedback to dictate you are on the right course, but you keep pushing through nonetheless.

Maybe a better analogy would be consicously pushing through the tunnel of a birthing canal where it is dark and you don’t know where you are going, like if Neo weren’t coming out of an egg sack, but he were pushing continually through that goo of a tunnel.  But this picture is a little gross, so I prefer the simple graphic I made below of a ship sailing at sea on a dark night.

Ship At Sea At Night

You don’t really know where you are going because it is so dark, but you still have your light with you, and you still have to set course rather than drift aimlessly about.


Also, of course keeping up with whatever cleansing and purifying you do (drink water, have lots of diahrea and stuff), and do whatever your best is to stay away from nasty things like addictions and booze and whatever.  Fuck Facebook.

I’m noticing that the imagination play IS fun and helpful, but this morning in particular I found it refreshing to step out of the imagination and spend some time in the physical world (although initially a little scathing, like when you first open your windows to the bright sunlight).

How My Mind Works When I’m Restless But Ok

(The following is me sitting in acoffee shop….for about an hour, hour 15 min.?  Today was crazy, not in “shit happened crazy” but “energetically crazy” as in, “I NEED TO DO SHIT BUT I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO” which is quite often where I am…but….well just read it slowly…..because I WROTE IT SLOWLY….that’s how it was meant).  Essentially, this is as close as you may get to inside my mind and how it works, when im focused on being aware).



Q: What does your heart say?


(Is it as simple as: “Whatever you create with your thoughts, do it with love?”)


Q: Are you ok Daniel?


I’m FINE (said in an angry voice). 


What does it feel like?


Like…there’s something I *should* be doing…but I don’t know what…


Are you ok with not *shoulding* on yourself?


Yes…maybe…but I *wonder* if the NOT CREATING is the reason I’m restless like this…


But YOU DON’T KNOW THAT, right?  That is your assumption?




I’m with you Daniel.


Thank you.


I wonder what she’s doing right now…


(Funny how that was kind of a nice thought, but then there were whispers that said “don’t worry about her!”  But…why not?  If that thought is pleasant?)


I wish I knew how I worked.


What if you did?


GOOD JOB on not going destructive.


Let’s go observer mode.




A part of you seems to be *scrambling*

(Which part?)

BECAUSE…I think we had this thought earlier…if you TRULY ARE IN COMMAND…THEN YOU CAN choose to sit here at the table in peace.



The scrambling part…it’s got to be the one that thinks “Gotta do some shit!”

(…even though I KNOW it is best to NOT do shit, unless you do it out of LOVE)


This is why we take the cold showers…to see how it’s ok for the *scrambling* to take place…


I wonder if this is like when all that shit attacked the Buddha…and he sat there in his peace…


DARK HORSE!!!  Listening to music is actually quite awesome.


(Are we getting comfortable with this energy?  Instead of running from it?)


I’m calming down…and now “Sexy Back” is playing….HAHAHAHA……maybe I AM bringing “Sexy” (Me) back……


I think it IS good to go home tomorrow…the weather won’t be terrible.  And I think you’ll be more relaxed at home.  It’ll be really nice to see Heather I think.  As long as you keep your cool.


Ready for a chapter in “Game?”  haha.  After ALL, Daniel…we are NOT needing to *create create create!* haahhahhah……….NOT UNTIL WE HAVE OUR CENTER!!!!


(“Disturbia” – “feels like I’m going insane, yeah!”  hahhahahhahha I KNEW there was a reason I loved this song.)


“A disease of the mind, it can control you!”    LOLZ  fuuuuuuuuck THIS SONG……


***BONUS HINT for you fuckers (the readers)……..THERE IS A GOOD REASON FOR WHY YOU LOVE THE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE…….pay attention and get curious about it.


9:42pm  Now I’m maybe getting a little buzzed.  2nd beer and trollin’ some facebook, but it’s FUN.  Is DARK HORSE really on again?  Or was it a different song earlier?


9:43pm  OK….OMG it was E.T…….those songs ARE familiar so, please forgive me.  And as I thumbed through the songs I have listened to, I WANT to say “Fock…..time has SLOWED DOWN!”  But….I forgot I took a few minutes to troll facebook with the evil clown from Saw….hahahah.


10:05pm  Ok now I have to pee….let’s post this transcript.  BECAUSE!!!!!

Prelude to “Planning for Dreamers”

Fuck yesterday.

Started out o.k. humpty dumpty.  Made it to the coffee shop to work on my life’s blueprint.  The gorgeous coffee girl who gives great personal attention was there.  Saw an old co-worker friend there from oh about 9 years ago.  Made it to the gym and beat the shit out of the punching bags (I’ve only done this 3 times now, but beating on punching bags is becoming my fav), working on destroying some perceptions.  Took a nap in the middle of campus.  Drove up to Vidabou, too much snow, so went to Happy Jack.  Did a little walk in the nowhere, got to a sitting/viewing spot, starting talking out loud, and then cried.

A lot.

NOT like the day before, where after leaving Beauty and the Beast, I was getting deeply emotionally sad about being lonely, was going to put on some music in my car accordingly, but my phone decided to start with “Kings Never Die” and continue with Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop.”  The music clashed with my emotions, but usually I support the notion of “when weird fate intervenes, go with it, at least for a little bit.”  What happened was my deep heavy emotions transmuted (yes, I think this is a bit of some real alchemy here folks…done it a few times, but only a few, so not really sure how it goes, but it’s good shit) into some heavy somewhat-badass-somewhat-mad-but-super-focused-goodness.

Not so with Happy Jack.  Let loose with victim tears.  However, one small little tiny hopeful thought en route back to car was “You can’t be lonely, Daniel, because I’m here.”  Like, I don’t know how many ya’all are fond of splitting yourself up, but I LOVE IT.  So here, it’s one part of me saying to another part of me “Through thick and thin, I got your back.  I won’t leave you.  Regardless of people, regardless of dose fockin’ Angels, etc., I WILL BE WITH YOU ALWAYS.”  Reminded me of one idea I had a monthish ago of spending more time with the notion of “The Warrior and the Boy.”  The Boy is awesome, but if the Warrior goes off charging somewhere leaving the Boy unprotected, he becomes very sad (and the fockin’ Warrior DOES have a huge habit of charging off places).

More crying at home.  Watched the movie “Gone Baby Gone.”  (I guess it was Ben’s director debut.  Is anyone else SUPER HAPPY that he’s gone from getting made fun of for ‘Pearl Harbor’ to becoming a badass director?  Is he a producer too?  I really don’t know what producers do…).

Now it was 9:45pm ish.  Nothing left to do.  Earlier I had wanted to play a perception game, see if I could create a perception for myself along the lines of “excited to go to the bar” or “excitedly believing I might fuck.”  And if I achieved that perception, I’d go out.  If not, oh well, then I’d stay in.  Didn’t try to create the perception.  Probably because I went to Vidavou instead.  Whatever.  Tried to sleep.  Sleep seems to be the drug of choice (at least for me) when I’m despairing and nothing in life sounds worth doing.  I do *NOT* support it.  Fuckin’ sleep if you’re tired, but NOT when you’re wide awake.  For anyone that’s ever been locked up in something like an institution, maybe you also found it disgusting how they drug people to sleep for days.  “They’re recovering” say the doctors/staff/nurses.  Bull-fucking-shit I think…they’re fucking zombies. 

There is a reason why depressed people sleep A LOT and they struggle to even get out of bed.  And the reason is NOT because “they need their rest.”  Stupidestfuckingthinga’kjdkfoiaufdjflk;dj.

Woke up at 2am.

Fuck that too.

Often, I’m excited to wake up in the middle of the night, because it’s often a calling for something special.  Fockin’ Spirits woke me up…they don’t do it just to fuck with you (well, maybe for you, but I have not experienced such before, to my awareness). 

But I was not pleased…still depressing funk.  Sat on the couch for a bit, staring at the wall or my space around my apartment.  Eventually pulled open one of my old journals from way back when…two points came up:

  1. As I rode on a train next to a cutie, I wrote about her and worried that if she saw what I was writing, if she would think I was a creep.
  2. David Burns & daily schedules

The #1 doesn’t fit into this story, but I’ll just say “fuck that mentality of EVER wondering if you are being creepy.”  At the stop light on my way to the library today, I saw two young college girls in yoga pants waiting to cross the street.  Cute.  And the nice yoga pants, where the ass is perfectly showing, and maybe even a little bit of cooter (that’s one of the words for vagina, right?).  But I couldn’t keep staring if I wanted to, because “someone might see” (I think she even might have when she looked hahah…maybe she just looked to see if it was safe to cross), “and think I was a creep.”  Now here’s the FUCKING REALITY OF IT PEOPLE…These girls CHOSE to wear yoga pants.  Yup, their choice.  Good for them.  But MY EYES are MY CHOICE.  And WHERE I decide to put MY EYES…IS NEVER CREEPY.

Yeah…sure it feels a little weird for people to look at you, or even stare at you.  I’m actually quite fascinated by WHY THIS IS…(easy to come up with a few solid theories).  But GUESS WHAT.  It’s out of your control.  Not up to you.  For your whole life, people are gonna look.  So this is where we put on our big boy-and-girl pants and deal with it, right?

ANYWAYS…(lol see how easy it is for my mind to get off topic?)

#2…Daily Schedules…Planning

PLANNING is what I was up for, what would take me out of my present funk.


Journal Entry of LOVE, DESIRE, and Field of Dreams

the following is from my journal:

Commander’s Log: Stardate 4APR2017

Field of Dreams

7:31am:  Last night, we watched “Field of Dreams,” and it was beautiful.  After it was over, I cried with the thought of “I’m doing my best.

Why did that set me to tears?

  • because no matter what I do, it seems to not be enough?
  • was it Spirit saying “I’m doing my best?”
  • am I in truth so hard on myself (subconsciously) that the tears over the thought came because of all the pressure I place on myself?

I did notice once again how un-relaxed I am, when I noticed how uneasy I was just leaning against my car smoking a cigarette…

“If you build it, he (they) will come.”

~ I DID have the *random* thought of Galen Urso (builder of the Death Star) this morning in the shower.  AND while watching Field of Dreams and smoking pot, I thought once again about ‘desire’ and how some spiritualists advocate getting rid of desire, but I said “OH…but when you’re a Creator, desire is important.”

Although, this morning, a.k.a. right now, I’m wondering about:

“Well, what if you just “Loved and/or enjoyed the thought of something,” and left “desire” OUT of the equation?

Because does ‘desire’ imply “intention to possess/have something?  Whereas ‘Loving‘ just Loves, just enjoys, whether it be “love doing whatever you’re doing,” or “love the thought or idea” of something?

And you don’t need to fear “but without desire, how do you act or do or pursue anything???”  because

Love moves the soul to act.”

So maybe I shall work toward and intend more to just Love thoughts/actions/perceptions, and see if I can spend MORE time doing that than “desiring” anything…

This strategy sounds pretty neat…