My Current Status...

Oh me oh my, a wild weekend tis has been! I reached #31,753 on the Amazon sales list! Not bad, especially with how I've been busting my hump to get my book out there. Hopefully by the end of the year the good ol' brick and mortar stores will carry it along with their internet incarnates. Then I feel sales could get real interesting, and my ass into some major controversy. Mock God and America hates you. Go figure. And no, I haven't forgotten you, the consumer, buying my book. I am grateful. I swear never to become an arrogant prick. If you ever run into me, probably in a coffee shop or book store, feel free to come up and start a chat. Not like I haven't done that to others before. I'm very approachable and I do owe each of you a thank you.

I did finally finish another video for YouTube that I'll be posting tomorrow night (Around 11:30 PM Eastern Time, and don't ask how I know the exact time. Just know my OCD dictates certain things. And the vid is up!). I've titled it "The Birth of George Bush". My sick and twisted humor really comes out in this flicker and yes, I do make an appearance though probably not in the way you'd think. I am so vague, you must wonder what the hell that means. Watch the vid and you'll see.

Meeza outta here.

Drugs, Take Me Away!

So there are people in the world who need to pop a few. Hmmmm. Life that difficult? For anyone who has been paying attention to American society over the past forty years, especially the 80s, drugs have become a bit too prevalent in our society. And I'm not simply talking about the illegal kind such as LSD, Marijuana, Crack, Ecstacy, Heroin, Meth, etc. I'm talking about mood stabilizers, muscle relaxers, steroids, diet pills, anti-depressants, yada yada. This nation has developed a culture of drug dependence.

Society has become far too accepting of medicating problems. Before you flame me, perhaps due to your drug induced rage, let me continue. If I were to have been born in this decade, with my accute hyperactivity and other mental proclivities, I would have been doped up on Prozac and Ritalin before I hit puberty. You know why I wasn't? Because back in my day, less than three decades in total, children were expected to be wild, troublesome, and loud. They are kids!

Parents piss and moan about their children being out of control. Perhaps that is due to both parents being out of the house most of the time either working or socializing rather than presenting some sort of structured environment for the child. Most children act out because they either want attention or know no other way to deal with their problems. They make emotional problems physical because they don't have the mental tools to deal with such complex issues in their head. And parents, by doping their kids, only help to further this process of making mental as well as other issues physical in origin. Rather than speaking with their children to find the root of their problem or finding a healthy way to burn off that excess energy in a constructive way, whether sports or the arts, parents simply paralyze it. They arrest it. In so doing, the child's growth is stunted.

It is up to the parent to ingrain a set of manners as well as protocol into their offspring; not to find the quickest and easiest solution which is to smother it. Parents simply don't try anymore, but who can blame them. Problems are always someone else's fault. Teachers aren't doing enough to help him/her learn. The police were too rough on him/her. I can't help him/her because I have things to do (such as avoiding my duties because I want a faster car, a bigger house, the newest electronic fad). We are a nation of responsibility avoiders using drugs for quick answers to our problems.

The country is just doping. Depressed? Take an upper. Unable to sleep? Take a downer. Don't even dare think that there may be a root to your somatic problems. Maybe you're depressed because your father molested you. Wouldn't it make more sense to seek out closure rather than to go through life consistently masking and avoiding the issue? Maybe you can't sleep because of the stress of your job. Why not quit? Do you really need the pressure? Is it worth your health? Bah, just take some qualudes to get to sleep or guzzle some bitter orange to get you through the day. In fact, you see that girl over there? Yeah, she's hot. I could try to talk to her. Maybe start a relationship. Respect her before the sex. But I don't know how to talk to her. I'm not comfortable sharing my thoughts with other people. But shouldn't I try? Nah, rather than sleep I'll dump my qualudes in her cup and then take her limp form home. Why work towards the nookie when I can simply take it?

I know there are certain cases where drugs are the answer. Those are medical cases where the solution cannot be attained otherwise. In cases of schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, and other mental illnesses as well as hormonal imbalances, drugs are the only solution that prevents a negative outcome for the individual (violence towards others or themselves). But doping kids? And worse, using meds for everything from exercise to alertness.

It is the continuation of a society that simply doesn't want to take responsibility; doesn't even remember how to take charge. We have made our problems physical rather than mental. Hell, stress, a psychological strain, can show itself in somatic (physical) ways. It will do so especially if the individual does not deal with it on a conscious level. By avoiding proper child rearing, by smothering problems beneath a medicated haze, these kids are turning into drug dependent adults to cope with their problems. They're not learning how to properly cope nor how to grow. It also spills over into other arenas.

Why work hard? I could eat the right diet and exercise right, but I would never achieve the body I wanted without extreme effort. All that time needed. All that discipline. Why not simply shoot up with some steroids or HGH? The muscles will grow faster, the exercise won't be as hard. Why put in any effort?

Ugh, these pounds won't come off. Sure, I could cut out the junk food, but I love the candy bars. Why not simply sip some ephedra, take some dietary pills. That'll help me burn fat faster. Hell, I can eat more!

I am nervous about public speaking. I get nauseous, am gripped by fear, can't stand those eyes on me. I could practice. I could see a psychiatrist to work through my phobia. Wait, I could take Xanax. Then the fears just melt away.

All these problems. What ever will I do? Eh, why do anything? I'm the way I am and I can't change because it is beyond my capabilities. But wait, I can drug my problem away. I can become faster, stronger, make the ugly world fuzzier and less visible. I can burn off those pounds quicker. I can solve my aches with a pill. I can stay awake longer with a shot. Will, what is that? I shouldn't have to exert myself. Let the meds do all the work.

We are passing the buck as a society. We are losing our discipline, failing in our duties. We are not growing. But hey, maybe you simply don't care. After all, you can't help it.

Rant rant rant

I've discovered rational discourse isn't possible through blogging. If one is upset with a reply, they delete it. And for all the "college educations" of the many people I try to talk to, I get blanket assertions without verifiable facts to support them or even life experience to explain them. Most of you people truly help to further ingrain my loathing for American society. You liberals are far too smug and withdrawn from reality to make any sort of decision. And you conservatives, you are as brainless as the fundamentalists over in Iraq and the Middle East only you use Jesus rather than Muhammad to defend your views.

I wrote a post a long time ago about what I would do if elected president. Looking through these many blogs, I know this nation has a long way to go before it's ready for any type of radical change. This country hasn't hit rock bottom yet. Until we crash none of you is going to be willing to sacrifice to make things better. Boo hoo, life is so hard for you. Suck it the fuck up. Stop trying to make excuses or laying blame. Start trying to solve the problem or stop bitching about it. Jesus Christ. I hate the war in Iraq. It's illegal. According to constitutional law, this nation may go to war if authorized by Congress. Congress approved. That is legal. Rather than recycling the sound bytes from CNN, try a little bit of book work. Was the info trumped up to support our invasion of Iraq? Sure. So was the basis of the War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, and the Spanish-American War. Yet we are so proud of those conquests. Trust me, the Iraqi situation isn't new. History repeats if any of you were actually capable of reading beyond your lifespan. Oh, but this is the me-me generation.

Materialism and individualism has rotted out the moral core of this nation. Everything has to be immediate, easy, and cheap. Everyone has an opinion and they all are shouting above one another to be heard. It's nothing but noise to me.

Oh, and to those who think my posts are "too long", sorry if I'm giving you something to read. I'm not as skilled as Goebbel's at writing quick tracts to inspire and inform you on reality. I'm just giving you a bit to chew on.

Ugh, why bother. I'll stick to solving the only things I care about. This war and the state of this nation do not belong in that list. I'm too cynical to give two shits about what happens to most of you. You have it coming.

Peer through the cracks

Why?

Stop, let time slow, withdraw from the now. Let your vision dim as you slacken your grip, the world fading from view. Let your heartbeat drum louder and louder in your ears, your breathing forging cadence with your mortal rhythm. Turn inward and descend deep into soul, past surface thoughts, minor memories, and forgotten dreams. Search for that glimmer, that spark. Follow it as you whisper, "Why?" Follow it ever deeper to your core, that point of genesis. What shall you find? Only truth. Only truth.

Taking up the challenge

Macarena asked the question, "How did inbreeding become a low-class stereotype, when it's the reason Western royal families still exist?" Well, I've taken up the challenge of explaining just that.

Inbreeding of royal lines was the bane of various houses (the Habsburgs and Hanover clans being among the worst) but was not entirely the norm until later centuries.

One example is the Russian Romanov line. The Russians avoided inbreeding up until the late nineteenth/early twentieth centuries with their willingness to A) Marry outside their blood (largely the Germans), and B) The fact that the royal line really wasn't unbroken (Catherine was not a Romanov and God only knows who was the father of her child).

The Habsburgs only intermarried because they wanted to strengthen their control over the various lands in their burgeoning empire.

There were so many royal houses and noblemen/ladies that inbreeding never truly became a threat to their majesties until the lines began to dwindle (noticeably in Britain after the Hundred Years War and across Europe following the plague, Thirty Years War, various revolutions throughout the nineteenth century, etc.).

It was only during the nineteenth century, when royal stock was at an all time ebb due to states uniting from a loose patchwork of nations across Europe into a handful of large empires, that the main houses largely intermarried (Romanov, Hohenzollern, and Hanover/Windsor) to create or tighten alliances only to lead to a variety of odd traits (Kaiser Wilhelm's shrunken, paralyzed arm, the Tsarevich's hemophilia, etc.).

But who else were they to marry? Nobility was waning due to bankruptcy (industrialization led to the creation of a middle class of businessmen, this new style of economy largely dooming the agrarian noble gentry) and being stripped of power through revolutionary upheavals.

The industrial age brought mobility as the peasants fled to the cities leading to the lower classes finally breeding outside their closed towns creating a much more virile stock, a growth in education among the poor and common, and monetary gain leading to an increased voice in government. The entire system found itself turned upside down as the new predominant force, the commoner, came to view the former force, the nobility, as closed, venal, and flagging (which it was by this time). It was the industrial age leading to our modern one that largely removed interbreeding from the common man but induced inbreeding among the shrinking nobility as they banded together against a world threatening to extinguish them.

So as to your point that royal houses got away with inbreeding, they did at times but that was not the norm. They stuck with their own kind. That still happens in our own present time between the classes.

Overall, intermarriage wasn't exactly a lasting or common practice since it led to the extinction of royal houses. Only shortsighted royals and a dwindling royal stock (blame the various revolutions, wars, and more for the shrinking pool of spouses) led to the eventual inbreeding that further doomed an outdated system. These days most royal houses are now open to commoners marrying into royal lines.

As to how inbreeding became a low-class stereotype, if you were to go to Medieval to eighteenth century Europe you'd see few individuals ever managed to leave their towns thus condemning them to interbreed in a very shallow gene pool. So a lack of education mingled with the gradual retarding of stock could only lead to disdain by the upper classes for the lower ones, especially since it was more pronounced and had been going on longer among the lower classes than among the upper classes.

By the by, when the royals interbred it was out of necessity (lack of viable mates). When the lower classes got frisky family style it was by choice since they could marry/breed with anyone.

A rambling defense of royalty from a fiery republican (not the party but of the idea of rule solely by the people). I love to play Devil's advocate.

Six years lost

There is still bitterness in me over my divorce. It's like a slow poison, gradually eating away at me. I'm not quite sure whether I will ever fully put it behind me. In a way, it was nothing more than to be expected. People have come and gone in my life. There really is no stability. To think anyone could have been there forever, well, that is nothing but contradictory to reality. But, I am a dreamer.

I loved my ex. That doesn't even begin to describe it. She...was an integral part of me. She was the first and only person I allowed myself to be vulnerable with. And she betrayed that.

I met her on a whim. It was all quite accidental. We found each other online. This was before the idea became such a cliche. We talked. And talked. And talked. I really enjoyed talking to her. I became entertained, then interested. Eventually it just became more. It built and built.

This was all around the time that I nearly died in a car wreck (June 1999). That was severe trauma, both physically and mentally. I was tired of following the meandering path I had set for myself. I was exhausted with military life (and did not want to turn into a pervert like the cadre who commanded me and I include you Denby!). I was searching for something more in my life and I found her.

Now I'm impulsive. I love to take risks. I mean come on, if you take the safe route you know what's going to happen. Where is the fun in that? Where is the possibility? I can't live a normal life. My mind is so alive with ideas. If I don't take a chance then how will I ever give life to my dreams? I know what is. I yearn for what could be. I know, ironic coming from a guy with OCD.

Well, I flew over to South Africa in June of 2000 and the sparks flew. I can still remember seeing her for the first time at the airport: the long raven tresses with white fringe flowing around her pale, round face with almond eyes and full lipped smile; her crimson skirt, crushed velvet, stopping just short of the floor; double breasted coat, black cotton with wood buttons.

There was this magic. If you've never known what it's like to be in love then you'll never understand. It's a tingle, a shiver that runs through you. Electric. You know, looking at that someone, that they are special. It's instinctual, like fate placed it secretly in your heart and all it took was seeing the them to remember that long lost memory of Heaven.

I remember kissing her for the first time. The awkwardness of it. She was shy. I was clumsy. I backed her into her closet and just before the kiss she fell backward and knocked over the bar holding her clothes up sending them, and us, crashing to the floor.

She was so warm to the touch. Feverish.

I have so many memories. But what I remember most was my ability to be me. There was no act. I wasn't afraid to let her see what was underneath the jokes or the posturing. I could relax, soften after years of rigidity. To feel that strain fade away, the tension melt. I could be me. It was...different. I could share my most precious thoughts, dreams, and secrets with her and not worry about them being twisted, abused, or lost. I knew she accepted me. I could trust her. Trust, to me, is not an easy thing to come by.

She had problems I was ready to deal with. She was a recovering anorexic. It took me well over a year to help her through the ordeal of eating normal meals, though she continued to count calories. That was a trait I eventually picked up as I do with my OCD tendencies. It still bugs me to this day. But back to the eating disorder, throughout our marriage I consistently had to keep an eye on her to make sure she ate healthy and to prevent her slide into bulimia (which was starting heavily our final year).

She was also an alcoholic. I wasn't the best influence on her. If you knew me then you'd understand why. I was a drinker. So I dried myself out to help her kick her own addiction to drink. Problem was when she made friends later who encouraged her to "party".

Our entire early relationship was fraught with strange and hilarious adventures. We traveled to Swaziland as well as Ireland before we got married on South African television (and I made an ass out of myself what with no sleep for over 48 hours, drinking every glass of wine they put in front of me, and getting a tad too friendly with the Elvis impersonator). Being on that show, The Toasty Show by the way, helped to make me a mini-celebrity in South Africa and Swaziland. Having complete strangers come up and adore you: unnerving.

I got to bond with her strange relatives, both her mother's Boer blood and her father's Chinese kin. The latter usually took me on business trips to quite unexpected places, to family gatherings (where every Chinese relative consistently wondered why I was both quiet and thin since Americans are supposed to be loud and fat), or camping out in the Veldt; I saved her father's life white water rafting when he fell out of our raft and I had to drag him back in. Of course we ended up going in circles afterwards as neither of us could agree on who was navigating, but I am digressing.

As long as we're going to meander, I should go into a little detail about her parents. Her father was an unemotional man. His father had died while he was too young to remember him leaving his mother to raise him in a strict, traditional Chinese household. The man was a genius when it came to business. He could do anything: movies, textiles, nightclubs, distribution. The bad part was that he usually couldn't run a business leading to quite a few business failures.

My ex's mother was a true wacko. She had a split-personality, suffered manic depression, was going through a mid-life crisis when I first met her (she was forty and dressing like Britney Spears complete with breast implants and face lift), with a history of abuse (her father and brothers had molested her), and sick with both cancer and AIDS. This woman could be grim, I shit you not. And she absolutely hated me when I first met her. Amazingly, I got her to love me. Why, you may or may not ask. Because I could make her laugh. Sure, there are a lot of gifts people yearn for, but my talent is the ability to make even the most bitter person crack a smile. She didn't get many of those in her lifetime from the stories I heard. I was only too happy to give her a few moments of hilarity.

Back to my tale of woe.

It was when the ex and I came to America that things changed. She had been a model in South Africa and she was hoping to break into either singing or acting once she came to the States. So we trekked out to California.

California is far from a fairy tale land. The cashiers are aspiring actors. The convenience store clerks can't speak English (don't even think about ordering a pizza). Traffic is so bad one can understand why power walking began there; It's faster than driving! The roads are dirty, every street has the same name, everything is overpriced, and people all are fake; I mean walking illusions! The city is nothing more than a mirage. There is no real substance to it. It's all intangible; hype.

Our first apartment was quite the piece of Heaven. We had drug dealers living beneath us. We had a married couple who loved to battle every other night (I didn't need boxing. All I had to do was listen through the paper thin walls for my fight night fix). There was also a new apartment manager every six months who'd switch up the rules and throw the place into chaos. And of course the glory of a gang of latino kids beating the hell out of a cop not fifty yards from my door. Yeah, good times.

Now I wasn't idle during my period in California. I managed to find a job as a cinematographer. Interesting work. Looking through that camera lense, able to peer into what seems a private scene without having to put yourself there. It's voyeurism. For a withdrawn fellow like me, that was alluring. So many fun experiences behind that camera. Anyway...

Well, the ex discovered breaking into film wasn't as easy as it was in South Africa (her father had owned a production company before it folded in the late 80s). That didn't stop her from trying to network. She met all the right people. Managed to get on the right lists. The only thing was I didn't match (I'm far from Hollywood material). So she began going alone to various nightclubs, parties, interviews with agents/producers/directors etc. She made friends I couldn't stand, stayed out to all hours of the night. There were many times I would get a call at three in the morning to pick her up. Of course there were also times when she wouldn't call and I'd be afraid something happened to her only to find out late the next day she was alright. Now I'm bi-polar, have OCD, and not getting a lot of sleep because I'm worrying. Yeah, it began to run me ragged.

Now you might ask, "Why did you put up with it?" Because I loved her. I wanted her to succeed. I made sure she was alright despite herself. She dragged me into a lot of dangerous situations. I got to meet really seedy people including Chinese mafia (triads), members of the adult film industry (bondage as well as the ol' in-out in-out crew), and agents of the most predatory kind. Don't even ask about the producers and directors. I literally walked into Hell in order to protect her. And she hated me every time I saved her. I was embarassing her, I was trying to hold her back, I was a complete and total prick.

By the fourth year of our marriage I began to discover things had changed. She and I never went out anymore (She was always out with 'friends'). We rarely talked. Our long conversations turned into me speaking and her nodding (not even trying to pretend she was even paying attention to what I had to say before cutting me off with reminders of places I had to drive her, things she had to do, or what she should wear to this or that event). I began to feel as if I was simply rambling so I spoke less and less until I wasn't speaking at all.

She wouldn't even let me hold her, always pulling away. All I could do was stare at her back. Always at her back when once I held her and watched her kiss the air as she slept.

Then I discovered a video tape she had made with her one friend. I wasn't supposed to see it. They'd filmed it one night while I was out and I guess the ex forgot to erase it. In it she was openly mocking me. It hurt. It's not that I have low self-esteem. It's knowing the one person you care about doesn't respect you. It really hurt seeing her trash me. I was a joke to her. She shit on the essence of me.

It just wasn't the same after that. I confronted her about the video, and she couldn't even explain it away. She just kept quiet, hanging her head, saying, "I'm sorry." It wasn't enough. I was boiling inside. I hated her. I truly hated her. It wasn't just the video. It was the thinking behind it. She undermined everything I had ever done for her with her ingratitude. I guess I didn't have "it".

Eventually it had to happen. She started sleeping with other guys. A lot of other guys. She didn't even try to conceal it after I found out. Once I knew she simply thought it was useless to hide them anymore. This was what really sent me over the edge and nearly gave me a nervous breakdown. I died inside when I discovered what was going on. I couldn't do anything. I feel pathetic for being unable to change things. The futility I felt was like cancer. I was on the verge of an ulcer by the last six months of the marriage, constantly vomiting. I didn't sleep. I really drank. Finally...I had enough.

I tried to salvage things. I asked for counseling, to move somewhere besides LA, anything to save the marriage. I loved the woman. I carried this guilt believing I had allowed her to become what she was. But she wouldn't change. She simply didn't want to give up the life she had. Nothing I offered was acceptable. So I gave her an ultimatum. That was when we separated.

I got the divorce papers roughly seven months after we split up. That was a shock. She couldn't even tell me it was over. She simply had a lawyer do it for her. After all the years of me busting my ass for her all I got was a god damn letter from a third party! A GOD DAMN LETTER! Whoa, sorry there. Caught up in the moment.

And now...I don't trust easily anymore; not that I did before. The one person I ever truly cared about gave up on me when I needed her most. I've simplified a great deal of what went on those six years. I'm not perfect. I'm not morally bankrupt but I'm also not spiritually rich. I just don't know anymore. I'm not as angry as I was. I'm not as happy either. So many people call divorce freedom. It's loss. Loss of oneself. If you married and longed for divorce then you were never truly together. Being married is growing together, two trees intertwining until they are inseparable as they spend each waking moment growing closer and closer until they are one. Then you are ripped apart and you aren't supposed to feel that? How can you continue standing now that your support is lost?

Poor me, I know. I should just let it go. But look at me...if you could. I have tainted memories. If I wish to remember the good times I can't help but to know what came after. Yet if I were to reject her for what she did then I lose that one moment in my life where I actually lived for someone else, that one period in my life that could be called altruistic. She brought out the best in me. But also the worst. Confusing? Yeah, I suppose so. But unless you've been in love...you'll never understand.

I understand you, Lovecraft...

There is a taint in my flesh, an imperfection that threatens me at an unseen level. I am not pure. I am corrupted as is the world around me. Do you not see the decay? Long gone are golden facades, cracked and crumbling with only shadow to fill the gaps. I see the brick bones of buildings, the sprayed graffitti as if blood splattered across the walls.

The sun is retreating behind gray clouds. The world howls like a primordial beast, quaking in anger beneath us. Or is that her final death throes? She vomits mighty ocean uncontrollably across her breast churning up abominations. Her crown of ice melts and recedes to reveal barren rocky lands long buried. How black the sky has become. How silent the heart of Terra.

Old beasts re-emerge; monsters clothed in man's flesh. They prey upon humanity, feeding on fear, quenching their dark thirst upon the blood of innocence. But is there innocence left in the world? The shadows are looming, light finding itself submerged beneath the ever rising tide of night. The monsters are out there, cloaked in twilight, eyes glittering like dying ashes, gibbering wildly beneath their breath at their approaching victim.

Where is my sanity now? The framework of the rational was built poorly around my soul. It took little strain to compromise my psyche. It long collapsed with a shriek as steel will twisted and fell. Now there is no support, only wreckage. I pick through the rubble of my mind and find little to salvage. So many memories lost.

The cries. The cries of the lost. The screams of the night. Stars streak across the horizon. Even angels do fall. How purple the expanse is, like a bruise. Mortal wounds bleed Heaven dry, the color of Paradise darkening. We turn away from Heaven's final hours. We are culpable in Her demise. Did we not wound Her? We no longer have need of gods or dreams. We starved Her until she was too weak to defend Herself. Then did we sacrifice Her to logic and science. How long before we burn Her ashes upon the pyre lit by nuclear fire?

Oh, the old gods hunger for us. Born of darkness, those amoeba of fluid form. They wish to feed upon our forms. Their simplicity harbors rage at our complexity. They are single-minded and driven by powerful instinct while we stutter between thoughts, rigid and paralyzed by indecision. We cannot halt their rise from the cracks brought by decay. They will seep out with the shadows and render us nothing more than wraiths to dwell in the abyss. They hunger to dismember civilization, the greatest abomination. The artificial is but twisted nature, reality corrupted by man's fear, man's greed, man's ignorance at wanting to achieve godhood. We are born of dirt and yet wish we were more.

Dreams, oh why did we abandon you? You are far more real than waking day. What you show us, those spiritual insights. Without you we are hollow, shells. When we sacrificed you, all we did was surrender to the darkness. We allowed the void into our hearts. That was the true beginning of the rot. Now it spreads from us to the world. All is threatened because we turned away from dreams. We no longer yearn to fly so we shall crawl upon our bellies and eat dust.

Lovecraft, how I know you. This world is no longer ours. We were born the end of our lines. None may come after for the rot has finally rendered us sterile. The peak was long reached and all we may do is decline back to the beginning, our origins holding the seeds of our end.

So here I wait, upon my knees, the light flickering beneath the onslaught of final night. Darkness will drown me as the cold bites deep into my flesh. I shall pale like the moon and shine one last time like the flame atop the candle before I too must waver and, with man's last breath, be lost to the void.