i followed most of my trains of thought to their logical conclusion

i followed most of my trains of thought to their logical conclusion, expecting the last stop on the journey to be some sublime state of bliss where no more words were necessary.

to some degree, this happened, but i wouldn’t necessarily call it bliss. and sometimes, i become filled with the need to just sit and write, if only to let release the buildup that accrues throughout the week, like passing gas or some other unenlightened activity.

dog-walking chick j is the only person right now with whom i share lengthier trains of thought. i don’t think she’s accommodating me merely to have a dog-walking buddy, but nor do i carry the illusion like i did with d that i’ve discovered a soulmate who resonates with me deeply.

j has on multiple occasions alluded to her hatred of Christianity–a vitriol sneaking beneath the surface that sounds powerful enough to be caused by some memory of a Christian who did her wrong personally. other than this, and her insistence on us just being dog-walking buddies, j could jump on the radar.

she smells nice. i always underestimate how important this is. a nice-smelling lady can oftentimes be far more sexually attractive than one who is that much more beautiful on some hotness scale.

she is kind of tall–probably as tall or slightly taller than me. her ass at times seems on the large side, but she told me she’s been hitting the exercise bike pretty hard, and it shows.

she’s hot enough that if she decided at a moment’s notice to become more than friends, i doubt i would say no. however, things have reached a nice equilibrium or pitch, if you will, and i don’t want to spoil that. does that sound gay?

j is willing to walk with me through some rather gnarly natural areas–it’s so hard to find someone like that.

enough of her.

i reached the end of the week in quite the state of despondency. it is occurring to me on a more regular basis that i may not have properly gotten over my mother’s death yet–i think a true sabbatical could really do me some good, as opposed to a mere three extra days off.

i am also struggling with being so alone all the time. each time the workplace gang congregates around j’s desk, it drives me deeper into my little hole–maddening and frustrating to say the least. part of the problem is due to the fact that i’ve existed for so long in environments where the presence of other males was minimal. i don’t know how to act when the balance of testosterone is suddenly such that i have to contend with the fact that i’m just another dude among dudes.

looking back on relationships and friendships–the ones that made me the happiest were the ones i had to do the least amount of lying to myself to obtain them.

i would rather have my writing get passed on for centuries to come with its author long forgotten or the writing attributed to someone else, than to experience even a day of fame in this life for it if it doesn’t outlive me.

who the hell am i to be ruminating so frequently on love and friendship when i so rarely obtain it?

perhaps the reason i so often fall short of my mark when trying to reach a new way of being, is because i work too hard toward a place created by my imagination, rather than simply saying i want to move toward a greater state of happiness, love, bliss, etc., and allowing my instincts to guide me there.

could be much the same as attempting to travel to a place once visited only through memory, instead of actually getting on a plane and going back there.

each has its strengths, though. the second time i flew to sf as an adult, it wasn’t nearly as wonderful as the first time, because i had so little time to enjoy seeing new sights. my remembered first trip was more pleasurable– each time i returned to it in memory– than the actual trip i was having.

could also explain a lot of other things that are wrong with me–why i seem to be so stuck in one place. i keep going back to memories and finding them more exquisite than anything i’m experiencing in the present, incapable of allowing new experiences to take hold as they are being handily dismissed as inferior to older ones from a more magical era.

could also explain man’s notion of a golden age. his discovery of the arts follows an arc like many prodigies–first crude, but formally interesting, then suddenly magnificent and highly developed, often flawless. the ancient Greeks, Hindus and Chinese all left behind philosophy and some other trains of thought that we return to time and again, as they were perhaps all hitting that place in the arc of the learning curve where discovery and intellect accelerate before plateauing then declining. the same for, say Shakespeare at just the right point in the evolution of the English language, and the old masters with their painting. all arguments for artistic merits and new exploration of form and color aside, the old masters exhibited a meticulous attention to craftsmanship and prodigious output that often goes unmatched with your pollock, rothko, etc. type artist.

and, why does so much “deeper” exploration of a medium result in output that to the untrained eye appears to be nothing more than the work of a child? take jazz, for instance. as guys like coltrane and ornette coleman pursued more complicated rhythm structures and atonal harmonies, their work began to sound like some kid bleating out random notes in an undisciplined fashion. modern composers like john cage offered up brilliant symphonies of nothing but silence. beat poets looked to scatting and stream-of-conscious writing, stylistically composing what looks by all accounts to be gibberish. and, of course, jackson pollock and mark rothko could be said to represent the culmination of a modern to post-modern evolution of aesthetic, giving us splatters of paint and big blocks of bright color. the artistic merits of any of the above are mostly left unquestioned by the students of the work, but any untrained observer would pronounce a devolution in artistic progress.

what is the artist to do when it’s all been done before?
1. seek out a style that can only be achieved through alignment with his uniqueness as an individual.
2. sensationalize, push envelopes, scandalize, etc.
3. draw on the forgetfulness of the popular audience, relying mostly on being a fad that is not so original, but merely appears to be.

art, for the artist manque, is nothing more than the excess pieces of life that don’t fit anywhere while living.

art for the artist is one and the same as living.

last year was actually a pretty damn good year

In spite of getting nowhere with I, L, B or B last year, losing D for good, not getting invited to M’s wedding, and losing all of my cachet as one of the workplace cool kids, last year was actually a pretty damn good year. My professional life was probably the best ever—likely the first entire year that I stayed consistent with working hard and getting noticed for my work.

I stayed away from the drink, mostly, getting drunk maybe twelve times, maybe twenty, but no more than that. I wrote in my journal almost every single day. I traveled somewhere for the first time in my life that was: not for the purpose of business, friends or family, and: all by myself. There is one earlier travel that could be mentioned—the 1996 Spring Break day trip to D.C. But, this was the first time I spent the night alone in a strange city without any agenda except to be a tourist. I loved every second of it.

This year can’t be like that, unfortunately. This year sees me walking through a limitless string of uncertainties attached to each other. Will I be accepted into the EMT program? Will I find a new place to live that’s affordable and closer to work? Will I have a job after July? Will I find what it is I’m looking for before it’s too late, and the world’s governments begin the process of unification, and the world’s scientists invent that one shot that keeps you genetically primed to be free of most diseases (and also implants a tracking device in you and gives your soul completely over to the Anti-Christ, but hey), or I die of a heart attack or cancer or some strange disease?

Will I be able to resolve all the things I merely buried inside of me before they kill me?

Work drama

D the interim President likes to get dramatic with the crowd when she speaks about how bad it is. She roars into the office when hurricane season or a flu pandemic arrives, mixing gravitas and zeal for the opportunity to show the world that the United Way can still be useful.
She once started a battered women’s shelter in B, then found her way here, where she allegedly created her position for herself, a nice little niche that has kept her from getting canned.
I don’t trust her for a second, when she flatters me.
They canned the President, because he naturally had to take responsibility for allowing a double-counted, over-optimistic budget to make its way to the board. They got rid of the Finance Director, long before they got rid of the President, and laid off eight other people before and during all of this.

I could write a million more things I find puzzling about this place, like why only one person in fundraising (our quasi-sales department) got laid off, while some of our primary volunteer coordination folks and many others from other departments were quick to go. And, how in fundraising, nobody has to actually pick up the phone to call anyone. They pay visits to companies throughout campaign season, and an army of them do nothing but manage data between spreadsheets and the database. But, nobody picks up the phone to thank a donor, or ask a high-end donor for more money.

Except A. A is kind of at the opposite end of the spectrum from D. A is brand new, very young, and surprisingly level-headed, sensible, mature, and full of precisely the kinds of ideas U needs. The place is crawling with people who have good ideas, don’t get me wrong. I try to avoid getting caught up in too much of it, because I can clearly see I am handily matched and outgunned when it comes to brainstorming and ideation. But, A is actually fun to talk to about ideas, because she immediately gets what needs to be done, what works and what doesn’t, and carries none of the bullshit of “things have always been done this way, so they should continue to be done this way.” She is even willing to admit—to me at least—that much of what she was hired to do may not actually be relevant to sustaining and re-engineering U as a 21st century non-profit business.

Did I mention how much I love talking to A? Damn that she’s nine years younger than me. She is also especially good-looking, in case that wasn’t apparent.

You have this chick L who came in about a year ago, and who is also quite young—almost as young as A. But, L rubs me every wrong sort of way. L is just as smart, and reasonably cute—but she’s one of those people who has hit all of her life milestones without skipping a beat or knowing the depths of despair and godawfulness of tragedy and failure. She also can lapse into inane, pointless conversation if she’s given free reign to commandeer a meeting.

A has mentioned her father recently died unexpectedly. I don’t think that’s enough to send you off into the land of keeping it real, so I would imagine A was already a bit more level-headed and grounded than L—with or without a life tragedy.

L reminds me of S at MCE—blonde, perky, and getting to run the company because she impressed enough of the right people. But, is S (or L) really equipped to do anything more than run what other people started and be a good saleswoman? No. If I were starting a business, I would want A running it and giving the top-down orders, and L to be the top salesperson—but definitely out being insufferably bright and cheerful elsewhere.

I’ve really and truly knocked all women off of the crush radar for the time being. Dog walking chick, aka J, has adamantly stated she just wants to be friends, and I absolutely refuse to have a crush on her, because I need someone other than my dad, dog and word processing program to talk to. B called me up two months ago and said she just wants to be friends meaning she really doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore—just when I thought that might go somewhere. G, at C—who I had a couple of lingering eye-staring conversations with—has stopped replying to my Facebook attempts at conversation. Which leaves nobody.

Except, of course, this lady A—my crush radar is begging me to let her get on it, even though she is extremely gorgeous and nine years younger than me. Only, I am so much wiser now.

I noted J had a Cinco DeMayo party—catching her pics on Facebook like I always do. I almost let it get me bent out of shape, the fact that I don’t get invited to these kinds of things anymore, and then I decided that I honestly couldn’t care less. My mind has a million ideas for how I can fill the rest of my life, and none of them need to include workplace buddies or girlfriends/wives.

It has been about a month since I really wrote

It has been about a month since I really wrote—and, in that time, not a whole lot has taken place that is all that worthy of posterity. I’m completely back to some state of mind circa 1997 where I had completely given up on the notion of me ever finding someone in the waking life. Difference this time around is that I am not trying to have lucid dream or astral sex with strangers, and I’m not still possessed of my perennial crush on T. I am, however, still m, as this appears to be the hardest habit of all to break.

Sure, I can quit for a week, but I turn into a total monster. So, that means, I haven’t really gotten rid of the deep down kinds of sex issues yet.

The workplace has become another workplace, having lost all of its “save the world” charm after the umpteenth setback. Our latest initiative, and we seem to keep pulling this and that out of a hat and trying to make it attract dollars, is a mentoring initiative. I sort of allowed myself to be a guinea pig for it, thinking it was definitely going through, and I could take the opportunity to blog about my experiences as a mentor. Then, it turns out, they weren’t nearly as far along with it as they said they were. So, I have me a little brother now, which isn’t all that bad—it’s actually a pretty basic volunteering activity, and I’m still kicking around in the back of my mind volunteering at the hospice where my mom died since I’m not really doing much of anything right now.

But, there are a lot of variables up in the air. Like, where will I be living in two months? Do I want to go out and find a condo and gamble on finding something that will appreciate considerably during the two years I work on my paramedic license—before the Austin real estate market bubble pops? Or, what if ACC turns out to be a complete letdown in getting me into the EMT Basic program, and I’m still trying to be a paramedic a year from now. Because, if that’s the case, I’m definitely leaving Austin to parts beyond and not looking back.

My father has become pretty useless as a confidant. I can see he really doesn’t want to play the role of father, or even friend to me right now. He’d rather be friends with all these women he’s been chasing pretty much since Mom died, and just keep in touch with me so I can be there to assist him in his final years. Seeing as how he has done a lot for me while he was still playing that role of Dad, I can’t just up and completely abandon him, either.

The paramedic thing has become less of an urgent imperative as I realize I can only be one in two years at the earliest, and that perhaps it isn’t precisely what God has in mind for me. However, I do know I have to be striving to get away from the lifetime of dreadful office jobs, and this is one way to do it.

I’ve also started to have those yearnings to be back in San Francisco again. There is something about this city that makes me feel at home like no other city ever has. Of course, any shot at living there would require me to do a whole lot of bs’ing about how much I love social media, and can’t wait to help some organization be more involved with Twitter and all the other garbage that’s out there now.

The only things that are truly lacking in my life right now, though, are: 1. a confidant that is human. 2. zero debt. 3. certainty of the future that extends beyond two months.

Because, with the U being about $1 million in the hole right now, it is always a possibility that the next round of layoffs following the July budget will include me. In that case, ambulance driver and San Francisco dreams get put on hold just to eat.

Time travel dreams last night

Time travel dreams last night:

– back in time to an unfamiliar place, right before H died–begging him not to drive ever again, and bursting into uncontrollable, gasping sobs.

– back in time to an unfamiliar school where “D” at work, mixed in dreamlike fashion with D my mother, remembers being able to teleport from one floor of the school to another, therefore, able to time travel as well. A scientist is trying to perfect this ability, not realizing it’s already been done. His method involves grabbing someone by a cloud of gaseous plastic, shooting their brain full of nitrous oxide nasally, and re-assembling their molecules, teleported, at the correct time/place.

– time travel dream back to Austin in the 50s? 60s? Only, you could see the “mountains of Montana” from Austin, because it hadn’t been built up yet. I knew this wasn’t quite right in the dream, but was overwhelmed and amazed by the great heights of the mountains. They were not beautiful snow-capped mountains, but large, cliff-like eruptions of stone that seemed almost Gothic, if nature could produce art. Austin was also by the beach.

– then, a non-time travel dream where I was a spy, a James Bond-type character at a water park. Lots of gunfire at the end in slow motion, with me somehow able to watch myself, separate from myself, as I neatly jumped up just to avoid the villian’s bullets while filling him full of my own. I decided this was a wasteful use of bullets, having filled him with hundreds of them.

– time travel to “Mizzou in the late 70s” where security was especially tight (ie, in the dream) because of all the anti-war protests of previous classes. However, once kids got through security, which was an embarrassing process of complete body cavity search, they all fell about each other in a giant orgy–both of which made me very uncomfortable. The security was too excessive for my taste, and the promiscuity was as well.

also, at one point in the night, I awoke into a hypnogogic state and thought I heard someone other than my roommate entering the apartment. Could see my dog, and tried to call out to her, but she wasn’t roused.