serial thoughts

Talking with Mom about the aspect of adult children of addicts wherein our sense of normal is out of whack.  I need to do the eccentric thing: define normal as what I do.

I have to remember that I am a genius, I have talent, no rejection, not even a lifetime of disconnect between me and the world is sufficient to shake that.  I am learning to cope as one who runs counter, as in order to survive I must cope thus.  When I see images of Europe and Africa on movies I want to go there.  To someplace foreign.  I will ensconce here, save money or make it writing, and go to Morocco, but not in ways that cause me suffering, in ways that cause me joy.  I really need to get myself straight in terms of self-image, self-esteem, self-value.  To do that within myself completely, and really ultimately believe that what other people think and do has nothing to do with my value.  Their damnation, their compliments, mean nothing.

In terms of the competition, it was like I knew I was in the top few, but I still had to go out and beat those remaining few.  In a more general spiritual sense, I think that I need to view this world with the trip analogy…I’m on my trip, everyone is on their own trip.  I need to stay on my trip, regardless of what others are doing.  Maybe that’s part of it for me.

Dream that I was in a bicycle riding competition/race where a bunch of people, each riding a bike, had to get to the bottom of a [spiral] (square-spiral) staircase that was going ‘round the core of a school building.  Most of the competitors were elementary to me…hundreds approaching thousands I didn’t consider any competition, and I let them go first, because there was no real competition there.  So the race was easy.  But, still, there were maybe four people in these hundreds approaching thousands who were my real competition.  It was as if I was technically on this playing field of a thousand, but it was clear to me how in terms of my game, it was just me and four other people.  Knowing this, I could look at the field, and my place in it, differently.  Last night I prayed for knowledge of how I fit into the world spiritually.  Maybe this is one element of that.

I’m thinking of going to New York, getting my book published, paying off my debts, and then moving to Morocco.

Talk to no one.  No riff-raff.  Watch The New World.  Meditate.  Make myself walk pure.  Create.  Do nothing else.  It’s a spiritual path for me, above all other.  Center is the most important thing.  Interface with the cultural world is secondary.

Finished my second draft of Camp Lake yesterday.  Doing what I said: leaving behind the past.  Not expending any energy on things, and people, of the past.  Might go to New York.

I’m halfway through chapter 7 of Camp Lake, on my second draft.  Part of what I’m realizing, during some points of reading this, is that, for me, in my own mind, writing this is going to change my life.  Some things won’t be the same for me after I write this.  Not by anyone else’s recognition, but by my own.  The me that writes this is a transformed me.

When I’m done editing Camp Lake, spend some days in the woods, away from Mom’s house, to get some perspective on what I’m doing next.

One of my disillusionments is this: when I was a child, I thought the world was a place where I would be able to find someone, somewhere, I would be able to work for, who I could trust.  I don’t believe that anymore.

My target philosophy for my life, at this stage in my development, should be the Gene philosophy.  I’m feeling the way I am because I want to.  Deal with what I want to feel, and make that happen.


It struck me today: I drive myself crazy trying to have high-level (perfect) communication and relationship with, say, my dad.  I mean: I make myself anxious because it is not so.  Yet, who do I have as a model for relationships?  My dad, my mom, who divorced.  That is where I learned to relate.  And that’s ok, I don’t need them to be perfect, but I realize that I am realistic that others will not be perfect, that the context/world/environment/group will not be perfect, yet I am unrealistic about myself in that regard.  I expect myself to be perfect in an imperfect world.  Maybe I can change that.

My dad really lets me know where I stand with his lack of response to my email.  He must respond more quickly to work email than he does to mine, or he wouldn’t have a job.  I need to remember that.  I am too quick to forget the bad feelings something gives me, and then I’m too willing to return to it.

I need a plan.  I need to get some peace.  I’m going to do whatever interviews I’m invited to do with this Bloomberg possibility.  If they offer me the position I’m going to go there, take the money, and use that to get to Morocco in exactly one year.  Starting June 1, or now, I’m not going to talk to Dad for a full year, maybe more.  Just on general principle.  In fact, I’m going to shun any contact from anyone except some contact from Mom, Suzanne, and Amy.  If I don’t get the job, I’m going to move to New York anyway and be homeless, find a job, and work quietly without any family contact for a year, then go to Morocco.  I will save enough money to stay in Morocco for as long as their visitor period is, 6 months, a year, and while there I will get some motherfucking peace.  A rough draft of a plan?

Mainly I need to not listen to anyone’s appraisal of me.  And I need to have a positive one of myself.

And I want to finish this book.  I’m so close, I think, but I need to do this last pass.  Having trouble focusing.

And not feeling good about myself in relation to this world.  Which I really don’t want.  It’s a dangerous place to be.

All fears, if you track them back, are fears of death.  I need to get to a place where nothing outside me matters, I am unafraid of death, and I have a sense of self-worth that is unaffected by others, impenetrable by others, so I can enjoy my life.

Plagued with ideas of impurity.  Need to go to sleep.  I’m up too late.  Going to give up for today and try again tomorrow.

I write that and then I go and send Dad a bunch of email, nothing mean, thoughts.  I feel compelled to let go, but I am unable.  It feels horrible.  I hope I don’t die tonight.  That’s my prayer.  Please don’t let me die tonight.  I want another chance at a day.

Want to learn not to hate myself.  Think I need to learn that loving myself runs counter to allowing everyone possible into my life.  Dad, for instance, as much as I love him, makes me feel bad about myself, for whatever reasons.  I need to think about that much more simply than I have been…to think about it like this: it makes me feel bad to interact with him, so I don’t interact with him.  Simple.  Had a tech interview tonight.  Was expecting doom and failure beforehand.  Got every question right, enjoyed the interview.  I want to get over the pervasive idea that I am not worthwhile, that I am not worthy to interact with other people.  I want to get to a point where I can feel ok about myself enough that I can simply operate in the world…that someone else’s decision about me doesn’t support my ideas of self-hatred.

Dream that friend/police was inspecting my car.  Stuff was out of date but they decided to let me keep it.  Our family van was in a warehouse/shed.  I was in a desert city like Tucson.  All my family had left me.  I had enough gas money to drive somewhere in the region and start an independent life, or I could admit that my life there was already independent.  There was freedom possible/necessary and I just had to admit it to myself—realize—that that’s how it already was.  Key part of the dream was that while in waking life I sometimes think I am leaving my family by being independent, actually in the dream they have already left me, they have already moved on, are doing other things.  I say that when you fear something from others it is always a fear of what you might become.  Maybe when I’m afraid that Suzanne will disappear without telling me where she is, that is really a fear that I might do that.  I have been constrained sometimes by fear that my moving, my independence, will in bad ways leave my family behind.  But, for a while, I lived in Dayton and everyone in my family moved away from there, and I was the last one left there for many years, not by my leaving, but by being left behind.  I liked the independence of that.  In LA, I didn’t like it as much.  Film school was okay but I never felt I had a home in LA.  I love aspects of it but the driving there was hard during school and after school.

Watching Bourne Ultimatum last night, seeing Morocco in HD, makes me think of moving there.  Sometimes I think of moving to New Haven and going to Yale, but I wonder, with my mind, with the Internet, I am perhaps contained enough, complete enough, to not only be able to be happily, without college and without any particular place…I am perhaps best suited to be someplace like Morocco, whose aesthetics have always attracted me, where I could get a room or even have a house, but where I would constantly be surrounded by aesthetics different from my upbringing, and where the compact, complete mind that I am could be in surroundings that acknowledge that.  I could be quite happy being in my own world in a place so foreign from my youth and young adulthood.  And I would love to be in Africa again.  If/when my book sells, I may do this.  I’d love to see writing as my absolute in life, and as a second, see travel abroad and living in Morocco (something I have always wanted to do since I first saw pictures of it or read (Hemingway’s?) description of cashing out your bank accounts and never returning from Tangier).  And as a third…if at all…have jobs…and make them portable and minimal, to support the fuller me.

I really want to make the 120k Camp Lake / present writing state something like a KT boundary with the dinosaurs.  Without hate, without emotion, with acceptance, leave what was on that side, on that side, and start fresh on this one.  Or: continue minimally on this one.

Little patience for those not attempting the impossible.

Got to 120k words on Camp Lake.  I said I was going to write no less than 100k and no more than 120k words on the raw-writing draft, so I am done with that part of the work.  I plan to smooth, order, and edit, and write a couple of sections that I already know I need, over the next couple weeks.  Then, if it’s complete enough for me to let go of, I’m going to send it off.

I am using this as a milestone, a boundary, in some other things in my life too.  I won’t use this boundary as a cause to get upset if I here-and-there break it, but in general I want to boundary off the old communication with people with whom I really don’t have anything to do with in my current life.  The people who are current with me are Mom, Suzanne, Amy, Ashley.  I’m not exiling Dad but I don’t want to be involved with him or anyone else where it’s basically a lose-lose entanglement.

My energy is for my sake, I reserve it and release it as it serves me.

Dream that I was skiing along a hallway heading to a class to which I was late.  It was a freedom/mobility dream, though, I wasn’t worried about being late to the class.  Me and a couple other people went into the class.  The teacher was critiquing my work (which happened to be painting in this case).  No one recognized me.  We were just a few minutes late.  I sat in the back of the class.  The teacher was saying how brilliant my work was.

Stop.  And never look back.

Wake up meditating.  Get to, or maintain, that clear/blank state right as I wake up.

To the extent that I damn Dad, I damn myself.  To the extent that he calls me crazy, he is crazy too.  I come from him, so if his claim that I’m crazy is true, then it must be true about him, too.  I might be able to accept him if I look at it that way…there is something wrong with him…he is flawed…I am too…and we have a kinship in that.  Which I think can allow love.  But that doesn’t eliminate the aspect that his communications to me (and perhaps mine to him) are designed to hurt, and I choose not to be hurt by him anymore, even if that means not even reading email he sends me.

I feel worried, and I’m thinking about Rebecca, and I’m feeling disconnected from the world.

There is something about writing a book that makes me know I must demand a higher level of interpersonal lingual interaction, or cut off lower-level such interaction, or at least make a clear understanding in my mind of the delineations.  There is an overflow of riff-raff communication going on, riff-raff noise, that I think depletes a certain kind of person…and that kind of person is me.  So much of the frame on which we hang our ideas of human relationships has to do with language, that if the language being presented me by other people, compared with the language being presented them by me, is glacially different in substance level, content level, etc., that in a way there’s not much relationship there.  I would like, for instance, to be able to play frisbee with someone without talking to them, or to fuck them without talking to them.  And maybe to some degree I can.  In my current writing, though, I’m becoming clear that, even after this writing is over, I cannot go back to the lingual noise (even listening to it) that makes up the vast majority of chatter between humans.  In some form, I need to live aloof, aside, separate, above, between, or otherwise separate from bonehead-level symbolic interactions.

The level of consciousness when writing should be just above that of dreaming.

It’s going to end.  Decide how it’s going to end.

Unbearable loneliness.  I realize that’s a misnomer, since technically I am bearing it, but…that’s how it feels.

I’m at a point where the loneliness is so great that I have to do something about it.  I could numb it, as before, with alcohol, with lying to myself, with pretending the facts of the world are not what they are.  Or I can face it, live through it.  To go that second route I think will involve some non-traditional tactics, one of which I’ve skirted with before.  And that is real separation, not pretending that there is a connection where there isn’t.  That’s a hard road.

Reading that, it’s funny.  That’s how I thought when I was 18.  What can possibly become of a person who writes that when they’re 18?  They will not find comfort in the company of average family members, workmates, etc.  A person like the person who had those thoughts at 18 is going to flounder with how to connect to the world, if he chooses to connect with it at all.  He is not going to find it easy, in any way, to connect with the world.  Much of what he tries, in that regard, will be failure.  My uselessness/irrelevance with respect to certain domains of the world does not imply a lack of value in myself.  I’m very different, though; I’m special.  To even think that goes against one of the deepest rules within me, which is to abate ego and treat everyone as if they were the same.  It is hard for me to consider, now, that the present me is that much different than everyone else; I don’t think we are that different from each other.  But I can certainly say that the thoughts and actions of my 18-year-old self who wrote that text, are very different from the average person.  Though to me now, it’s a bit stylized, the insight and poetry held by that person is greater than what most people achieve in their lifetime.  Hence am I alone.

serial thoughts

"I tend to approach life both like a chess game and like an if/then equation…" (Ash)

“…I try to see every possible outcome of a situation before I make a move. I feel like this is an efficient, effective way to live. For me, personally. But I also wonder if this holds me back in certain areas. I am less likely to take a risk if I can see the path of decisions leads to a dead end.” (Ashley)

I hear you, Ash.  I’m all about the ifs and thens.

"I tend to approach life both like a chess game and like an if/then equation…" (Ash)

journal :: 28 august 2009 — 2010.03.02

::\prod_{a}^{b} \oplus

2010.03.02 :: And Mom supports it, she’s on board. And she says we don’t need to discuss it again until June unless I want to. So relax into it, make this my meditation, my dreams, my breath, my days for a while. And figure out the future, later.

2010.03.02 :: Do this nanowrimo-style: the goal is to write 150k words on this book. Not in order, not to finish the book, not to structure the book; to write 150k words on this book. And to lose 18 pounds. And to make my life a meditation. That’s what I want to do over the next three months. Don’t question it. Do it, be it each moment. And when I’m on the other side, I can think about other things then.

2010.03.01 :: I want to do something, but I want to do something I believe in. I want to do something that is karmically-separate from anything I’ve done before, i.e. I don’t want to compete with anyone I know from the past. I want to write, I think, I don’t know…I can write and I can program…but why…to make a game? To make music? To make intelligent software…? To what end? I have an overarching idea for software (——– — —— —–) but I don’t know, I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing. Should I be doing things for fun, for profit, for social change? I don’t know. Sometimes lately I think I need to start with how I want to live and work back from there…start with the vision of my house and my family and my … whatever … and work back from there to make a life that makes that happen. Maybe that would simplify things? Can I give up either writing or programming? What am I supposed to focus on?

2010.02.28 :: Ultimately I’m on a spiritual path. That has to guide everything. There is no real love, no real family, no real business, and no real art that is not spiritual.

2010.02.26 :: Basically I want to make works of art.

2010.02.26 :: I want to be very quiet like “03\ -\ Un\ nino\ que\ ya\ no\ existe\ jugando\ con\ el\ viejo\ piano.mp3”, and like an Olympiad or like a stellar mind or a stellar performer, I want to execute the performance pristinely, I want to be on, on that, and I want that to be the only thing. In my writing, in my software, make the only thing, just do that and that only.

2010.02.25 :: Some feeling that my entrepreneurial spirit may be well-founded, that my business could actually go somewhere! Listening to this health care summit, I feel optimistic that I could be a small business on the scale of any of the small businesses I’ve worked for. I don’t need to work for such a thing…I can do that!! Believe in it, with inhesion.

2010.02.23 :: Feeling good again. Realizing that what happened yesterday is partially that I got into a mode of feeling like it wasn’t ok for me to feel good because I had done some disservice to Mom, by not being able to relate to her, not being able to listen as fully as I wanted to, to what was going on with her, without getting emotionally involved. So I felt like I wasn’t allowed to feel good because I had done her some wrong. Gotten past it, in just about a day, which is under-par for me in recent times. Preventing that off-track-ness is what I’m focused on, but preventing it from getting worse when it happens is key as well, and I did that better this time than the last freak-out I had, which was about three weeks ago now.

2010.02.23 :: Focus on what I can affect. When making things, focus on making it the best product in the world. Don’t think about anything else any more than absolutely necessary. Make my focus, for a book, on the creation of the book. Make my focus, for inhesion, on making the dohpest shit there is. Put it out there. But make that last part the part I think about the least. My job is making things.

2010.02.17 :: Got blog organized. Thinking about finding work. Might not. Might hope Mom gets Chicago job and move there with her. In focusing on next work, I want to approach it purely. If I’m doing programming work, I want it to be because I have a vision that I believe in and am making it happen…nothing else. No other motivations. Same with writing, when I write next. Feel on top of it, basically. Working at not having manic moments, keeping myself balanced. Feel achy and shivery…might have a minor bug. Will rest tonight, not work, relax.

2010.02.08 :: For a moment, believing in it being enough that I do what I do, that I work at what I am good at, at what it is I do; that if I write, and program, if I focus on solely on what I can do, that that is enough.

2010.02.02 :: Dream last night I had killed somebody and was covering up the evidence. Investigators were all around, looking at things, questioning me. They were sure I had done it and they just needed proof. It wasn’t clear whether I would get away with it or not; trending yes, but not certain. I was washing dishes with blood on them, washing my hands, washing clothes, only a step ahead of the police.

2010.01.29 :: One thing to think about when thinking about thoughts and emotions, and what they are to the one experiencing them, is the experience of, say, watching Avatar, as an emotional person, a resonant person…because of my feelings I am able to enjoy that movie more than someone who is a rock. That’s some way to start to understand what thoughts are and what feelings are.

2010.01.28 :: Crazy. Feel I have to give up my family, and that’s major. Yesterday, overwhelming feeling of :: I can’t stand it anymore, but I don’t want it to stop. Not sure I can stay connected and at Mom’s house, not sure I have anywhere else to go.

2010.01.26 :: I see myself right now as having very great possibilities. I have a lot of assets. I need to nurture myself and love myself, mostly. Accept myself as good.

2010.01.26 :: I take my problems with me wherever I go, true, but I also take my magic.

2010.01.26 :: Looking over some journal pages (, it’s clear to me that I’m not crazy. You can tell by the handwriting. This is not insanity, this is genius. I know that some of my writing when I’m drunk ( looks more on the crazy side, as expected. But, looking at these books, from a perspective that is distinct from the spacetime person who wrote them, yet still my own, it is clear to me that I am totally lucid, if nothing else.

2010.01.26 :: After umpteen years I’ve finally come to the conclusion that software development is boring. I get it, I totally get it. It’s just boring. I don’t think I’ll do that anymore.

2010.01.25 :: Feel slightly worse after interaction with Mom. Like my interaction with her was a failure. All it was was a nitpicky thing where she was expressing her frustration with me for not approaching her about when to eat dinner after she had mentioned dinner possibilities. I feel like if I interact, it’s failure; if I don’t, it’s better in some ways because there’s less failure, like what we would want to attain, cannot be attained, and like trying (which I believe in) leads to failure that is perceived as worse than not-trying’s “success”. I still believe in the former, but it feels sucky sometimes.

2010.01.25 :: I feel like I either have to go on this camping trip with Dad, or move out of Mom’s house. Like I need to either accept both parents or deny both. I know that is nonsensical, I know that but that’s still a thought that occurs. My life is fucked. I’m 32 and staying with my mom. Holy shit. What else can I do, though? No responses from job applications… If I want to try being homeless somewhere I can drive to from here, that’s my only other option. If I felt more or less alienated it might be easier. What am I supposed to do? I feel I haven’t developed properly as a person.

2010.01.25 :: Not doing anything else…leaving everything else alone…give me a break from people I consider morons, keep my energy and a religious-type focus on one thing, writing my book. That’s a singular, clear guiding principle; even within that there are a lot of options. I think I need to consider that any option that fits with my guiding principle is ok, even if there are multiple options there, but just to keep the guiding principle intact…and that if I do that, I can consider my path ok.

2010.01.24 :: Thinking more about the all-your-eggs-in-one-basket m.o. I could give up programming, after everything else, and focus on writing only. It would beautify things, simplify things, to have singular focus. What is the best way for me to do that? Should I move to New York? Now? Later? Should I stay here and write at Mom’s house for a while longer? Here I have a safe warm place to sleep, if I leave here I don’t know. In terms of communication with the rest of the family and random internet personalities, I know that focus on writing means not discussing anything with—morons essentially. Would I benefit from the headspace shift of being away from Mom, not hearing about family stuff through her, finding some way to survive in New York, working on survival for a while, and when I have a place (or before) focusing on writing? I would love to go camping with Dad, but I don’t feel like I’m allowed to celebrate, to do anything fun, to relax.

2010.01.24 :: I think I need to stop talking with those in the messed-up system. The way I have been expressing my perspectives on the messed-up system is not helping; my perspectives on the messed-up system are right. It really is true that the people and things I critique are truly described by that critique. That they disagree, that the majority disagrees, does not indicate that I am incorrect. That I am correct does not make it so that there is any way for me to effectively or appropriately interface with those in the messed-up system—effective/appropriate from either my point of view or anyone else’s. That there is no way for me to interface effectively/appropriately does not mean that anything about me is broken in any absolute or significant sense. The system really is broken. My critiques of it are correct. People in the system hate me. I really am ok.

2010.01.24 :: 170.4 :: 24.4

2010.01.22 :: 172.6 :: 24.7

2010.01.21 :: Mom said “wise as serpents, gentle as doves” :: the idea of having all the ingredients to make a cake, but instead of making one, critiquing each of the ingredients :: the question of how you can have a vision for the transformation of the world without having a vision for the transformation of yourself

2010.01.21 :: 172.0 :: 24.6

2010.01.20 :: 171.4 :: 24.5

2010.01.19 :: 172.6 :: 24.7

2010.01.19 :: I feel overdone. I feel like if I don’t take a break I’ll overheat. I basically rarely relax. I need to chill out, let go, calm myself. And let go of the past, of the past, of the past, of my ideas about what should have been and what should be. I need to get very very present and right now I am very very not.

2010.01.18 :: 172.8 :: 24.7

2010.01.17 :: 173.4 pounds today :: 24.8 bmi

2010.01.17 :: computer is a piece of shit that can’t even run pandora and google docs at the same time :: want to throw this thing out the window :: can’t afford a new one cause I have no job and no money :: fuck me :: struggling with the title and global ideas for the book I want to write :: and struggling with how to create a stable living situation to exist in while I write this :: I want to make sure I will be able to start what I finish with consistency :: to do that I need to know I’m going to be able to live somewhere, have roughly a certain work schedule, etc. :: which I cannot know :: give up needing to know :: I will start again tomorrow

2010.01.17 :: thinking about even more collapsing my focus on one goal :: writing :: stating my goal within that realm and letting everything else fall away :: forgetting about my software project that I have in mind :: what would my goal be in writing? :: I want to create books people love, stories and characters people adore :: characters people want to be and pretend that they are :: to make a book that is the most people’s possible, favorite book :: books people love to read :: bliss is the currency of the world :: to create a book that, while people are reading it, they experience bliss :: and to change people’s lives that way :: to improve the moments that they spend reading my writing :: I think it becomes more political to try to affect the rest of their lives :: somehow purer to attempt only to create bliss for people for the time they spend reading my books :: bliss being the currency of the world, is this the best way to promote bliss? :: my software project, with the same goal, might ultimately result in more bliss :: making movies, with this goal, would be a well-placed endeavor :: so, given my idea about art being an exchange in which you are giving people something, and what they are giving you in return, is part of their lives :: the part of their lives they spend consuming your art :: and given my ideas about the concentration of which your art must be composed to create that moment of bliss in someone :: to approach writing and movies and all my art with that aim :: would be a worthwhile endeavor :: to create an experience of bliss in the readers of my books while they are reading :: ?? :: bliss like the experience of dreaming :: the strangest, the most wonderful, the most terrifying dream :: to create in others bliss on par with dreaming :: ?? :: oblivion of dreaming :: that would be a worthy aim :: to exchange with someone else their time and a tiny amount of their money in exchange for bliss many times in excess of the normal bliss of their life :: I think you can reach outside the moment of the experience of the art, though :: it’s really about making people feel beautiful feelings :: and showing people the beautiful world when they’ve forgotten :: to create in others high longing to be beautiful :: I obviously haven’t been specifically attempting to do that prior to this moment, as I just now formulated the words of that potential aim :: but I think if I could devote myself to doing that, it would be a worthwhile endeavor :: and this isn’t about my whole life, it could become that, or I might learn something new as time goes on :: but about one book, could I do that :: write one book that makes people feel beautiful feelings :: that shows people the beautiful world when they’ve forgotten :: that creates in others great longing to be themselves beautiful :: I would have to be process-only, while I was raw-writing I would have to be a Zen master and never read what I already had, and write new, raw product for as long as was necessary :: I’d have to really meditate this :: then I would do synthesis and editing processes after the initial raw-writing process, hopefully after almost all of the raw-writing process :: and I want my goddamn title beforehand

2010.01.16 :: 175.5 pounds today

2010.01.16 :: imagine myself :: apartment in new york :: giant television :: giant foam bed :: lots of pillows and blankets :: giant pieces of art on the walls but the whole place uncluttered :: asian handcrafted wooden cabinet/drawers for my clothing :: only clothes I absolutely love :: no clocks visible in the house :: very little technology but what is there is state of the art :: basically :: one screen that is tv and computer :: or one tv and one computer :: deep colored walls :: clean kitchen :: groceries delivered to my house once or twice a week :: maid to clean :: exercise bike in the apartment :: wear the color orange a lot :: take care of my teeth and body :: get to 150 pounds with flat stomach :: grow hair long :: shave beard :: lots of books in the house or else none and everything’s electronic :: stopwatch collection :: big picture books of art to look at :: close friends, a few, male and female, who I can talk to about art at least :: continue non-alcohol stance :: have books I write sell millions of copies and me be a 50-millionaire :: travel at a whim :: have friends to travel with and to visit :: meet new people in other countries :: drinking bottled water and spirulina

2010.01.16 :: part of what I want to do with writing is play and demonstration of syntax :: I want to produce a book (perhaps HARD, perhaps others) that uses a post-contemporary IM-inspired syntax, then do a book that is in a syntax and spelling of, say, the salem witch trials :: read a bunch of material from that time and do the spelling and even layout in the style of the language and posters of that time

15 january 2010 :: imagine myself :: image myself :: what I want to be :: how rich, in which ways eccentric, what relationship, etc :: start with the image in my mind :: and it will be so

15 january 2010 :: dream that a girl loved me :: young woman :: chinese-american features, buzzed hair, white dress and panties, sheer, fuzzy :: we would have sex face to face in a small space we created just for us, the space of us, the space that was the two of us :: it felt good to be loved

15 january 2010 :: I have no life, no friends, no work, no home, no savings, no education, my attitude sucks :: I’m complaining about what I don’t have when I could focus on what is going well :: what is wrong with me?

15 january 2010 :: you think I’m crazy :: I think you’re boring :: that’s kind of how we play this game, folks

15 january 2010 :: really very depressed :: head feels cloudy/stuffy :: not happy about my plan, my life, etc. :: feel like I should get a job but am I really going to take a bagger job at a grocery store? :: jesus christ :: feel alienated from family, from Dad really :: but what am I going to do? :: every time I communicate with him it tears me up :: I don’t want that right now :: that he and I would be alienated kills me :: but we’re not close anyway :: I feel like he hates me :: like he disapproves :: and I think I’m partially right, and partially making that up :: I think that’s a little but true and some not-true too :: feeling bad about depending on Mom right now :: keep considering moving to NYC into a homeless shelter, but that doesn’t seem like the best idea if I can stay with a family member

14 january 2010 :: want to write but I don’t have to write in public :: getting google docs set up :: latest chrome features + google docs makes for a pretty cool creative environment these days :: will plan to write commentary on blog, write books and have them published as their outlet, and do other work without publishing it, programming and other quantitative work :: when google’s OS comes out, I will probably use that for my non-programming machine(s)

–[ 14 january 2010 ]———————————————————-

book: the opposite of politics (telling the truth about what you think, instead of lying to not piss people off)…wisdom of saying, “I want you to die”

opening sentences: There might be something worse than being mean. It might be being nice.

–[ 11 january 2010 ]———————————————————-

An artist is someone who does their thing no matter what, sticks with it regardless…Suzanne said.

Talking with Suzanne about targeting/ed art/creations…sitting models who have to be within a 1/4 inch of a certain height, or books that have to be a certain number of pages to fit into a certain “salable” genre. Remembering that it wasn’t that long ago, for instance, that Poe invented the short story genre. And talking with Suzanne about how all these genres of dance and literature, etc. are attempts to copy, or as she put it, “hydrate” the original ideas.

–[ 10 january 2010 ]———————————————————-

[note to CIA]

You know, one other thing that comes to mind is an idea I had with a colleague of mine that would be for harnessing the inference power of masses of people who had no idea what they were doing, by using one-way (multimedia) hash functions, the results of which unsuspecting people would then perform intuitive inference on.

So :: let’s say you want to classify the secret behavior of an element, and you want to involve the help of people who aren’t allowed to know the secret behavior they are classifying. You encode that behavior, then (essentially) hash it (but not exactly a numerical _hash_), then you present the hash of the secret behavior in a multimedia way (like a Chernoff face but instead of a face, an abstract visual image, sound, or other media). Then you engage unknowing subjects in a reward program where they get something (like a penny, or a green light flashed in their face) when they recognize the desired trait in the multimedia hash…this way you can find and utilize inference capability in the brains of people who have no idea what they’re inferring…this would be a relatively simple way to use the existing inference power of the human brain in a way that partitions secret information from the people who are making inferences about it.

It’s kind of an inference _crowd-sourcing_.

–[ 10 january 2010 ]———————————————————-

[note to CIA]

Expanded version of inference ideas, fwiw: :dug this up from old email. What we ended up doing to analyze behavioral data for the Army game was completely different…there we used GA/CA-based classifiers, genetic programming type stuff. But I think this simpler statistical inference/counterinference stuff could be useful, in general. The most obvious critique of this, or question, might be: why are you suggestion we ever _sum_ conditional probabilities. But, as odd as it may seem, you can, and should, in cases where the indicator sets are disjoint (see Kolmogorov axioms).

Video of Bert and Ernie trying gangsta rap: :to keep things from getting too serious.

–[ 10 january 2010 ]———————————————————-

[note to CIA]

Something else that comes to mind in the domain of object classification is classification by cellular automata. Early work was Melanie Mitchell (

I know from some more elaborate experiments than the published Sante Fe work that you can evolve classifiers that are a composite function of cellular automata…a string or snake of CAs where you evolve a genome that describes a set of CA rule numbers…then you use a composite CA function to classify some input.

I believe (for the reasons described here that evolving CA-based classifier functions will be a good path to go down when trying to build ways to classify objects (behavioral objects, person objects, document objects).

–[ 9 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

[note to CIA]

slightly expanded thoughts on counterinference ::

page 9 has a formula for statistical counterinference that I think will work

no response requested, this is for-what-it’s-worth drivel from me…

–[ 9 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

[note to CIA]

A simple object classification algorithm that I have used with some success:

Not the most elaborate classification method…but it’s fast and it has an accuracy/inclusion threshold adjustment parameter.

(For what it’s worth.) (Please ignore the silly scaling part of the function on page 2…(50,100,2500,…)

I’m sure you have wonderful software for doing this sort of thing, so if this is a silly suggestion to you, please take it in the spirit of a dog bringing you back a bird it caught.

–[ 8 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

[note to CIA]

Memetic culture simulation :: to address one-off any-culture radicalizations, in addition to the tactic of working idiots off the ladder with human-trained covert negotiators, basically, what about:

Doing meme-game simulations as a way to search for the underlying cultural game being played. i.e. you have some jackass who is susceptible to radicalization via a set of memes, and you use a search through a game-space based on known cases, to find elements of the underlying structure of the meme-game that is playing out in the interactions between the radicalized/ing and the de-radicalizing players of the meme game. Perhaps this would be one way to search for de-radicalizing meme strategies.

This could probably be done with software like that described here:

You would basically be searching, though, for the underlying game that produced behavior like the known cases…then you might have a model of what is going on in terms of the cultural exchange in cases where you wanted to modify or optimize the cultural exchange to U.S. strategic advantage.

Just a thought. Thanks as always for your patience. If you wanted to try something like this, full source code (as a starting point) is posted in that link above.

I am not requesting a response to this message.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

In blossoming I have discovered I am quite alone.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

Underscoring the importance in my mind of the concluding point of TAOK :: that below silence, there is no secret wisdom there. To exist in the civil world, to exist in the corporate world, to exist with others, you must exist in types of discourse with them.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

I even think, and this is a radical perspective even most of my supporters would disagree with, but I even think crime can be an art. If 9/11 contains events that represent secret plans (whether in line with comission report or not), I think even crimes like what we see evidence of on 9/11 could be much more of an art, much more beautiful.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

Reading over my blog posts with Decky11 in mind, I realize I blame myself too much for stuff that I am not responsible for, I am a little egotistic and self-important, and I have too much hate; I want more love in my position, in my outlook, in my life. I’m kind of a sad character at the moment. Brilliant, but sad. I’m angry, I’m mad, I’m sad. That’s not how I want to spend my days. I also notice that my “smitten” post is an attractive feature of me :: to love, is attractive.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

I’ve been mad at people for not being beautiful. But you can’t be mad at people who aren’t beautiful. You have to love them. But there isn’t real love among people who aren’t beautiful. So you have to do something else, something that is like shepherding. You have to love something that is nothing like you, that is less than you, in some real ways. And it isn’t love like the love that happens among equals. But it is love, a certain kind of love, and that’s what I need to do with most people, if I interact with them at all. And with a lot of them, it doesn’t make sense to interact.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

To: peter, josh
Cc: rachel
Subject: You can’t create beautiful things.

That’s what frustrates me about you, I think.

You can’t create beautiful things.

It’s not your fault. When I think about it, I don’t wish that on you; I actually don’t.

But that’s what I can’t stand about you; your business, your code, your treatment of me (in the case of Josh) is so ugly.

And my response to you has been ugly too. Shame on me.

Honestly, Josh, what other response could someone have with you. You’re lucky to work for someone who is more forgiving than me, and your house and home and ability to eat, is literally indebted to Peter’s impeccable, moral, and loving tolerance of you in the face of the ugly behavior you sometimes display. I don’t have the tools that Peter has to deal with a person like you. That’s not a strong area for me, obviously. And none of you could be expected to have the tools to deal with me; I know that.

I can’t stand the ugliness you’ve dealt me Josh, and Peter in protecting him. I can’t stand that what you make is ugly. That is a horrible tyranny that I rain upon you, but it’s just the way things are. You cannot create beautiful things (C code, English, business relationships, inventions, pictures, etc.). I can create, and have created, all of those things and more. Life must be as strange for you as it is for me, except from a different point of view. But people like you, and people like me, were not made the same, and when we pretend we are, we are fools.

–[ 6 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

[continuing my “spark” post of today]

And, basically, I’m done interacting with people who can’t look me in the eye with the look that the person in this video is capable of giving. I will continue to give to everyone, but to everyone only through my writing. Only sparks, and potential sparks, will ever be in my world again. Thank you so much Decky11 for that reminding.

–[ 2 january 2010 ]———————————————————–

If you are unable to make statements, then you are nothing to me.

–[ 31 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to CIA]

lots of mail from me, I realize…

This whole issue is basically about being either a good liar or a bad liar. People don’t care what is true or false nearly as much as they don’t want to have to worry about it. The truth is nice, but a really good lie is almost as good. But a bad lie is horrible.

I do think, with better design, our country could be better at lying when it needs to. Is the 9/11 (quote)truth(quote) movement a disinformation campaign? If it is, then you’re doing your job. If it isn’t then we could do a better job lying…or a better job constructing outward behavior in ways that, regardless of whether they’re the truth or a lie, doesn’t disrupt the citizenry’s allegiance to its government.

I think essentially the US could use counterinference systems to achieve better results here…basically doing the inference job before you construct your behavior…then use that to engineer behavior with the unavoidable inference results that those on the outside are going to arrive at. Statistical inference applied to the objects that are present in the public-facing part of the behavior set used to accomplish a goal…would provide a way to measure the conceivable potential of inference techniques in general (right?)…while specific inference results (from various inference algorithms) applied to a menu of behavior would help in designing behavior that accomplishes the desired goal while maintaining control over others’ conceivable inference results with respect to the observable or discoverable behavior.

I have no doubt that efforts are in place to obfuscate underlying truths with certain types of behavior. It seems pretty clear to me that outward behavior on some fronts is not being engineered to a fine degree using this type of counterinference idea.

As always, I’m not asking for a response, and if you’re actually reading this, thanks for your time and attention to my possibly silly suggestions, and good luck with your work.

Matthew / Zha

–[ 31 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to CIA]

See, unfortunately, you’ve got citizens like me who have seen stuff by David Ray Griffin…and whatever the truth of that day, the U.S. Government is going to have to (hopefully) refute what this guy and guys like him are saying.

I don’t want to be worried about what happened that day…but voices like DRG’s, since they haven’t been silenced by anyone, and haven’t been refuted by anyone, and since they seem to make as much or more sense than the voices we’ve heard from the U.S. government…voices like his are going to have to be addressed now.

Please, refute Mr. Griffin and those like him. Truly, I would love nothing more than to hear something from my government that made as much as or more sense than the 9/11 (quote)truth(quote) people. I don’t expect a reply, but if you’re listening, thanks for listening.

–[ 31 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to President Obama]

See, unfortunately, you’ve got citizens like me who have seen stuff by David Ray Griffin…and whatever the truth of that day, the U.S. Government is going to have to (hopefully) refute what this guy and guys like him are saying.

I don’t want to be worried about what happened that day…but voices like DRG’s, since they haven’t been silenced by anyone, and haven’t been refuted by anyone, and since they seem to make as much or more sense than the voices we’ve heard from the U.S. government…voices like his are going to have to be addressed now.

–[ 30 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to CIA]

You may already be doing this, and kudos if you are. And if you think I’m insane and just laugh off these notes, so be it. But:

If you’re going to be doing covert operations, you have to know that other people are using intelligent modeling technology to model your behavior. Your intelligence is based in part on inferences you make based on behavior you observe in others. You of course have ways of presenting misleading behavior to others, so that your own underlying truths are not inferred by others. But in this day and age, to do that well, you must go to great lengths to construct action plans whose behavior can’t be inferred or that, when inference technology is applied to what we/you, the US, does, the people doing the inference, whether they be foreign or domestic elements, infer what you want them to infer.

Call me crazy, and kudos to you if you’re currently producing behavior that elicits the inferences you want from news, other countries, and domestic observers, but I just don’t think, based on the set of discourses I see floating around the world right now (regardless of their truth or falsity) that you are currently designing your behavior in such a way as to resist inferences you don’t want and/or suggest the inferences you would like others to make. If you are, like I said, kudos, and you’ve got me duped. But right now, to me, it looks like we could improve that part of this country’s operations.

–[ 30 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to CIA]

Here’s the thing. If you guys were doing a really really good job, or a really really bad job, then the evidence wouldn’t present the way it does now.

I don’t mean to be too hard on your organization, I realize you have many difficult objectives. However:

Unless your desire, strategically, is to present behavioral evidence that fuels debate over what happened on 9/11, then you’re not presenting the evidence that you want to present. It could be a lack of imagination on my part, but I’m having a hard time imagining the situation that would cause the current evidence that is presented about 9/11, regardless of its truth or falsity, to be the set of evidence that you want to present to the world.

How is the national interest served by the current set of known discourses on 9/11 theories? Regardless of the “truth” of what happened that day, how is the current discussion/lack of discusson outlay beneficial to any interests?

To me, the evidence presented means that you are trying to accomplish certain goals but can’t quite get them accomplished the way you want to. It is hard for me to see how, if you were accomplishing what you wanted to, in terms of perception and information, the current public discourse would be going the way it is going. I think our secret organizations need to either be more open (in which case they would be more successful at managing public discourse surrounding national events) or our secret organizations need to be better at engineering their behavior such that they mold the resulting public discourse much more effectively.

Unless the current state of public discourse is furthering your goals at I am just too dense to see what goals would be furthered by the discourse I see, then I can infer that you are aiming for a target and missing it.

Thanks as always for accepting my communication, regardless of your assessment of me. I don’t expect a response. I’m just an American who would like to see things go better, but doesn’t see that happening, and as such, am frustrated.

Matthew Van Temple aka Inhaesio Zha

–[ 30 december 2009 ]———————————————————

[note to CIA]

It’s highly disturbing as an American citizen to see things like this:

Is this true, is this total b.s., what is this? If you guys aren’t involved in 9/11 inside-job-type-stuff, would you please do some work to show that? If you are, I would think you would have done a better job of covering your tracks so conspiracy theorists like the people making these videos wouldn’t exist.

Help me understand, please.

–[ 30 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Dear Mr. President,

Can we please not have a war on Yemen?

Is it possible for us to have foreign/domestic policy that is focused on helping Americans (with education, jobs, etc.) and not focused on corporate and religious interests?

I love this country, what it used to be anyway. This country doesn’t belong to corporate interests. It doesn’t belong to religious interests. It may be old-fashioned, but it belongs to its citizens.

Please don’t use this underwear-bombing idiot as justification for more U.S. action in Yemen.

–[ 29 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m ok, you’re ok doesn’t mean I have to spend time with you.

–[ 29 december 2009 ]———————————————————

To all the people I’ve ever done shitty things to: you deserved it. I’m not sorry. Most of you got off easy. If I did something shitty to you it was because you sucked real bad. After some time and distance and spiritual growth, I re-affirm my original position that what needs to happen is for you to get your shit together and try again (with someone else).

–[ 29 december 2009 ]———————————————————

2 days behind on Columbia writing, if I don’t write today. Feel derailed after not writing yesterday. Bit of a mess. Headphone music, or maybe looking at the computer screen, is giving me a sharp headache. Probably going to go to bed without writing today. Hopefully I will get my act together tomorrow, find a vision I can get behind, and do my work. And get a job at the grocery store so I can feel somewhat useful to the world.

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Nonparticipation is the antagonist tactic of the weak. Withholding, refusing to engage. It is, in the morally bereft domain of those who employ it, a tactic with no acceptable response. Any demand of participation, any attempt to fill in the gap of absense with a suggestion of motive from the attacker, is met with what I see as mock-offense. The nonparticipator feels justified in assailing others for asking them to participate. The nonparticipator is always claiming to be put upon unreasonably by those they assail with their nonparticipation. All you can do is guess at such a person’s motives, but in their world, any attempt to guess their motives is cause for a rebuttal. It is wrong of the other party to guess at the nonparticipator’s motives. The nonparticipator has created a situation where guessing at their motives, or guessing at their position, is all the participating party can do. It is a lose-lose to try to participate with a nonparticipator. Within the moral structure of the participator, the nonparticipator’s tactics are wrong. Part of the culture of the nonparticipator, however, is to recognize nonparticipation as outside of the realm of moral consideration. It is nothing–there is nothing there–says the nonparticipator. What is this person bugging me about? They are inventing things about me that aren’t true! That’s a deceptive argument by the nonparticipator. With it, they try to write the history such that they (the nonparticipator) are doing nothing

and the participator is making up either judgements or fantasies about the nonparticipator. It’s a passive tactic. It’s also the most socially acceptable of the two positions when there is tension between a participator and a nonparticipator. The nonparticipator is more easily seen as doing nothing
by observing parties, while the participator is easily seen by observing parties as taking
action. The problem focus, therefore, will be on the participator. As long as the participator/nonparticipator dynamic is in place, neither side will get what they want. The participator will be happy only if a dynamic of strength permeates the relationship; the nonparticipator will be happy only if a dynamic of weakness permeates the relationship. Unfortunately nonparticipation, and support of nonparticipation culturally, is one of the tyrannies that is as widespread in our culture is as family, drug, and drink. All the little lack-of-support moments that occur, add up to critical deficits in people who sometimes reach a node of severe reaction. The severe reaction is easily identifiable. The myriad lack-of-support or lack-of-participation moments are not easily identifiable. The employee who quits because his influence is systematically discounted is easy to identify; the silent non-collaboration by his coworkers is not easy to identify. The citizen who kills himself because his lifestyle is impossible to live in his country is easy to identify; the constellation of laws and customs that make life impossible for him are not easy to identify. The son who rails against his father is easy to identify and blame; the father who systematically denies acknowledgement of his son’s value is harder to see for those who share the moral fabric of the nonparticipator. Nonparticipators support each other in this tyranny. Not doing anything…in our world…is not viewed as a crime, while doing something wrong is viewed as a crime. What we frame as “doing something” is too limited sometimes. Not participating is doing something. Nonparticipation is an action. It does have consequences. Nonparticipators will frame their actions in deceptive terms to hide what they are doing, but within a given normative context, what you don’t do has as much weight and as much affect as what you do…the only reason we distinguish doing and not-doing is because of the way we construct our terms. In the context of a husband and a wife who kiss each other every day, a husband not kissing his wife one day is doing something. He may use nonparticipator-style tactics, citing literal term definitions, to suggest that he “hasn’t done anything”…but of course he has. To say otherwise is insulting the intelligence of the observer. That he didn’t do anything is a minor side effect of syntax, not a weighty reality. But nonparticipators suggest otherwise. The aunt who sent all of her nieces birthday cards, except one of them. When/if the niece reacts, the nonparticipator aunt can claim that the niece overreacted…that the niece is acting wrongly, in contract to the aunt having not acted. The aunt didn’t do anything! The niece did something wrong. This example makes obvious the nonsense of the nonparticipator, but look for it in those around you. It is a tyranny, it is evil, its cultural support and prevalence make it worthy of mention.

[more on blog]

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Continuing writing Columbia and L’Americaine…with Columbia I feel I have no vision, I do have an overarching idea but I’m not sure I’m into it as much as I need to be. Still writing my daily wordcount. Worst-case, it’s keeping me sharp and keeping me disciplined.

I can figure things out more later (as I go).

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Always, the concept of changing, and wanting, and changing into something who wants something different. That there are people who wish I wasn’t drinking when they knew me. But if I wasn’t drinking, I never would have allowed them in my life. They could never have known me if I wasn’t drinking.

And I know Dad isn’t happy with me, isn’t proud of me, isn’t comfortable with me. But that does zero to get in the way of me being what I am, or me doing what I do. I can stare at my text in black and white, write it, read it, it come out of me, and that have absolutely nothing to do with him.

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Get zen about writing. I can produce that result. I can write words. I can count the words I’ve written. Later, I can read those words. Everything else I cannot guarantee, so it’s best not to think about. But I can write words, and I can count them, like I can paint boards on a fence, and count the ones I’ve painted. Paint the boards. Leave everything else alone.

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Really, for the measurement of accomplishment, we should look at things that no matter how good at them you are, you still have to work at them every day to do them. For instance, painting a fence…you can paint a fence poorly and you can paint a fence well, each painting fully covering the fence. But even if you paint well, you still have to paint the whole fence for the fence to be painted. Similar writing, but not musical instrument practice, not to the same degree. Writing music, yes. To write 800 pieces of music, you still have to keep writing all that time. Some people can write faster than others, but even if you’re a very very fast writer you still have to write a whole bunch to actually write a book. Accomplishment is much varied. Some forms are less appropriately attributed to an individual, they are roll-up forms of “accomplishment”, in which attribution to an individual takes place but does not mean the same thing as does such attribution in other cases. At one extreme end, you have the accomplishment of a successful bet…to win money at a bet is an accomplishment that is attributed to the one who placed the bet, but it really has nothing to do with them, in the case of a random game. Successful investing that involves research or the creation of unique valuation models is success that is more attributable, sensibly, to the better. But it is still a much less attributable form of success than painting a fence or writing a book, because anyone can paint a fence and anyone can write a book. Anyone can do those things successfully. Success in those endeavors is guaranteed through work. Success in investing or gambling is not guaranteed through work. And, where something like winning a race or winning a chess game or playing a concert is something that requires work and practice to accomplish, you reach a point where you can play, or you can win, a concert or a game at a certain level, and the doing of it, while it requires concentration and the fruits of earlier practice; with something like writing a book, it is a more attributable accomplishment. I realize that even a skilled player must practice and learn a new piece to play. However, the effort there is much less attributable as accomplishment, than is the effort of, say, Hemmingway writing his last book. It doesn’t matter how great a writer he has become, that does not write a single word of his next book.

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m trance-writing without the alcohol. So I can write a lot more. The trance is different. But. It’s an excellent tradeoff overall.

–[ 27 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I don’t have to ever show anyone anything I write ever again in my life.

I can. I don’t have to. Me writing is independent of this…I can write today, and it be intended toward a book, or it be intended to delete instantly, or it be intended to sit in my home directory forever unread by anyone but me. Those are all options. I don’t have to do this for other people. I can still do it if I want to.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Write, collect watches, do programming project. Walk. Eat. That’s it.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Part of the fun, for me, of Anna Nash, is that my family doesn’t know I’m doing it. The fun is to make a popular book that no one would ever think I did, but that I did. After that, if at some point someone finds out, that will add to the fun. But I have to get it published and popular before anyone I know, knows that I’m Anna Nash. And the book has to be popular.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Maybe you should read the book that you’re going to write, for advice.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Write multiple books with interlocking characters, in multiple genres and styles…Anna Nash shows up in my other books, but her book is genuinely a young adult novel and purchased by young adults.

Write novels for YAs and kids under a different name and never tell anyone but my agent. Even get a front-runner Anna Nash to read the books to fans in booksstores. Find her on the net, or in a preeschool, and pay her to do readings, a project for kids to enjoy.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Learning something about myself, I feel great with verbal stimulation. I mean I’ve known for a long time I like talking, writing, programming, and I know I get into a zen state after massive programming or writing. I’m noticing now so much how after writing a couple thousand words of English, my brain is supple as fuck. I’m in a zen state. Like my brain has been properly massaged and everything is now possible for my thoughts. Not sure I’m going to, but I’m wondering if I might try writing more than 2,000 words a day on a daily basis…I wonder if that might work, to continue writing after I reach this state, which seems to occur pretty regularly after 500 or so words…by that point I’m in the zone…but by 2,000 words I’m in totally present supple-land, perfect mindstate.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Want to do that with [this] writing…consider it first as an enjoyable task for me, way before any other consideration.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

We think in rules so often. We don’t have to think in rules.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Innocent memory from an earlier time (fifth or sixth grade)…wanting and planning to someday make a labyrinth-oriented video game based on Theseus and the Minotaur. The thing I like about this memory is that is accesses a much simpler part of my brain, when I was hardly at all, compared to my current state, burdened by what I viewed as realistic constraints on my ideas. That kind of thinking was delightful, and I think it is wholly appropriate now too. I’ll do that kind of thinking more. Be in that kind of state more. I can feel it in my brain now. I’m listening to Radar by Britney Spears and writing dialogue for college kids in Columbia, and while I’m doing that I’m thinking about how in fifth grade I had that unconstrained type of thought about creating a Theseus video game, unconstrained by technical limitations by also by style limitations…a Theseus video game is in one way of seeing it such a corny concept, but I didn’t see it from that point of view then and I don’t see it from that point of view now. I see it as an idea that I like, that pleases me. And I see it, right now, as being about what pleases me. This is a delightful brain state.

–[ 26 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Process only and trust process completely. Make stuff that makes others feel awe like I feel awe when I look at, say, Batman Begins. Create operas like that.

At every point, write something that I would want to read.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

“Let go of the life preserver so you can get on the boat.” (Mom)

I don’t understand you but I love you. (general concept)

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

It may not be that Dad doesn’t want to acknowledge my value, it may be that he doesn’t know how. But that’s enough for me to call it quits with him. Goodbye to my idea of what I wish my Dad was.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I can’t talk with many people in my family. Due to us being of different species. It is ok. We can still say “I love you” even though the words mean different things.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Typing is getting better with constant English typing. Still do it with six fingers (four fingers and two thumbs) but it’s more fluid now than when doing typing of C, as there’s more variety and flow to the act.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Thinking about creating an alter ego who writes cheese novels or crime fiction, or something. I don’t know if I want to do that, so I’m not proceeding, but I’m thinking about the possibility.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Loving email from Dad, but the fact that he writes me back from my merry-Christmas email to him before any potential future response to my check-out-positive-comments-on-my-writing-from-others email, and without referring to it, while discussing his own writing, underscores my belief that he posesses, and possibly encourages, an anti-me view…that he is not for me, that he does not encourage or support me, that he wants to keep me down. On the surface I’ll maintain a civil, minimal relationship with him, but it’s over between me and him. He can deny, to himself and with his family and friends, that I am something of substance and quality, but I won’t hear it. In fact, he seems to be pacified by my taking a defeated position, and he seems to relax at nothing less. He needs to feel ok about me, and somehow the way he goes about that involves denying goodness in me, denying that I could be good. I’m not upset as I write this, I’m not mad, I don’t wish anything bad for him. This is outside of what I am willing to deal with, though; the relationship doesn’t benefit me enough to put up with that. As a service to myself, I am going to deflect him and all contact with him…I will either ignore communication from him, or sometimes give it brief responses. I won’t discuss anything of import with him, I won’t include him in my plans, I won’t appraise him of my situations. That is the least turbulent and best way for me. (Of course it’s possible he just didn’t see my email, but saw the other one…I’m aware I’m reading into his actions some…I’m comfortable with my appraisal of the situation given all evidence from me and others. He might be scared of me getting widely published because I’m using the full name he and Mom gave me, which includes his name. If that is the case, then too fucking bad.)

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Considering, when/if I do publish novels, not doing any movie versions of those. Writing plays for the screen and novels for the page.

–[ 25 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Had rough thoughts earlier about what my life is, and that I don’t have any $$, way to fit into society, earnings-wise, etc., but got over it. Mantra is “word count”. I wrote my 2000 words today on Columbia. That’s what counts. That I can measure.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I want to get an apartment and a TV, watch TV and sometimes derive inspiration from TV snippets, walk every day, write, eat raw fish, and that’s it.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I feel obligated to communicate with Dad, even just a little, even to say what’s going on with me, even to say “merry Christmas”. But then when I communicate with him I feel upset, angry, hurt, conflicted. Because it reminds me that I don’t think he’s on my side. It reminds me that I think he wants only limited success for me, that he’s happy with me in a subservient position. To feel good, I need to not talk with him at all. Because it doesn’t work. I want to do this with zero malice, but with absolute decisiveness. I don’t want to put myself through the ringer, emotionally, out of obligation to custom of interaction with one’s dad, custom of saying “happy birthday” etc. It doesn’t work. So cut it. Be merciful to myself. Give myself a break. Don’t write him, don’t feel a need to say ‘hi’. It just doesn’t work. I can love him and yet cut off his whole family. Can love them too, and yet cut them off.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I can get through Christmas without drinking. I can do that. I can get through today without drinking. I can get through Christmas Eve without drinking. I can get through a day with Mom being sad about her life and talking about moving to Mexico but not having the means to do so…I can get through that without drinking. I can get through Christmas music and Christmas Eve services and selective-communication dads. I can get through all that without drinking or having a nervous breakdown.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Removing crutches makes you stronger. Getting through holidays without alcohol. Getting through intimate interaction without bullshit smalltalk. Removing that which helps you, makes you pick up the slack, makes you stronger.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Remember, for me, action comes first, thoughts/feelings/words later. If I want something to be a certain way, address my actions first, and the thoughts/feelings/words will follow.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Keep not drinking. Sobriety is badass. Add exercise and perhaps diet restrictions. And most importantly discipline and accomplishment. Then we’ll have something.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

When an agent writes me back, I don’t have to respond right away. I can wait and respond when I like.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Over the next year, plan where I’ll live. If I can travel some this year due to TSID sales, then explore cities…London, New York, Paris, Santa Monica, Hollywood, Sydney, find a place to live where I’ll be comfortable. Look at mobile homes as a possibility. Create a cubby hole somewhere, ensconce.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I don’t want antagonism between me and Dad, Louise, and any related parties, but I want a real distinction, a real separation that can’t be denied by them, that they may discount me as some black sheep of the family, but that I am a wonderful person, at least as wonderful as they are, and that I am talented and accomplished in a worldly, world-wide way that is way beyond what talent they have and what they have accomplished. I want that to be an undeniable fact in the mix. That I can do, and have done, things that they can’t and haven’t. And that any discounting of me has to be on the backhand of an acknowledgement, even is the acknowledgement is subtextual. It is clear to me that I get a better appraisal from strangers than I do from my family sometimes…I mean about work, of course, maybe that’s what bugs me, is that my family isn’t concerned with my work, but they are concerned with other aspects of me, that perhaps I consider less essential. It’s annoying to me that I feel like I am critiqued on the domains on which I can be critiqued by Dad, and that he withholds compliment on the domains on which I could be complimented. After this year with Mom I hope I can afford to live on my own. And I think I really need to take a whole year to have no contact with family…visit Amy, visit Mom, visit Suzanne, each once, maybe at Christmas, but other than that, I hope then I can afford to live on my own on my writing, and that I take some time to myself, and for myself, and partially as a separation exercise, for some moving-on and healing for myself.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Publicly, make myself the greatest writer in the world.

Privately, do my other project.

Commit to that. Make myself nothing less than the greatest writer in the world. Make the dohpest product in the history of the entire universe. Make that into ultimate art, unequivocal creation.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Make myself one of the greatest writers in history. Become the voice and the book. Tell what I tell, to the hilt. Assume it’s going to take my whole life to do. Develop my own thesaurus, my own programmatic writing tools, techniques, algorithms.

–[ 24 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Take your time. Only release to others, work I am completely happy with. Adhere to principles 100%, let everything else fall away.

–[ 23 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Watched Adaptation with Mom and Suzanne.

The part about adaption being shameful for people because we have memory, and we feel like it’s giving up. But that we need to adapt, that it’s necessary for survival.

And the part about simply making love to your flower, without needing to know the larger scheme into which we fit.

–[ 23 december 2009 ]———————————————————

“Your hand makes beautiful marks.” Something a drawing teacher of Suzanne’s said to her.

That, if your hand makes beautiful marks, it has little to do with you. And you can draw without worrying or thinking too much.

–[ 23 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Trust the process, engage in the process. Work for the process, for today’s process, eschewing the product, like I did in eleventh grade with photography. Leave judgement behind. Do or do not, there is no try. No trying to reach a certain goal, no trying for a certain end. Only doing the process. Doing the procedure, the algorithm. Zen-light execution, action without thinking, dancing without self-consciousness.

–[ 23 december 2009 ]———————————————————

When in doubt, go with your first draft. But never be in doubt.

–[ 21 december 2009 ]———————————————————

In the end, I want everyone on my side.

–[ 21 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Universe, please make my world a place where I can buy an apartment in LA, an apartment in New York, an apartment in London, an apartment in Sydney, and an apartment in St. Martin. I would like that. Thank you.

–[ 21 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Like the CA stuff, and I pray now with TSID, make stuff that never goes away, that never goes back, stuff that never gets undone.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

London and Hollywood and SoHo NYC?

I think I would fit in with the British.

Thinking after my books sell I will move to London.

Maybe I don’t have to commit forever. I could try living there a year.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Make myself into a rockstar. But a literary one.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Reading the first 6 chapters of TSID. “Dennis’s bitch clerk smiles politely at him.” Part of what makes this good is :: honesty.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

After these books, one of the things I’m going to do is make a movies. My first movie is going to be shocking, dohpe, it’s going to be like TSID, watchable by all but with deeper levels for some. I’m going to rock the house. And I’m going to follow what I said on a napkin in Zin one day while drinking (probably scanned somewhere?): [something like:] the only thing that matters is to make the dohpest product that’s ever been made in the entire history of the natural fucking universe.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I would like to live in the Fontenoy someday. Maybe when TSID makes me tons of $, after I’m done living with Mom, I can move into the Fontenoy, write and work there.

–[ 19 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Dream that I wanted to jerk off in the bathtub and Dad came into my bedroom. I got out of the bath and he went into the bathroom and used the bathroom with the door open. I didn’t even know he was living at the house (with Mom and me). I went to the back porch. Three dogs attacked me, Dad’s dogs. They were going to puncture my skin. Dad came outside. I told him to call them off but he wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t acknowledge the situation. He wouldn’t call them off. So I stuffed two of the three of them down Dad’s throat, into his stomach, and made him digest them. Their toothy mouths sticking out of his mouth. And the third dog stood by, frightened.

–[ 18 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Captain Willard about Charlie: “He had only two ways home: death, or victory.” Be like that.

–[ 18 december 2009 ]———————————————————

This is what I’m gonna do. Write. Epic things, stellar things.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

When I do this, I’ll have three books, 450 pages each, a trilogy whose sales will be enough for me to live on for the rest of my life.

Then I’ll take a year off to travel.

And I’ll do another course correction. Some other project or involvement.

No alcohol, no drugs, lose 20-40 pounds, write 2000 words a day for 9 months, half-a-million words in a year; I’m a serious motherfucker.

And I’ll have written an epic story, on the scale of the largest epics written in human history.

We can release the books at the same time, or spaced-out.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Every chapter will be stand-alone as a short story. But interlocking to make a book. They won’t be published alone, but each one will have its own completeness to it.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m going to do this. I’m going to commit myself 100% to writing a book. A book. I’ll take another course reading when I finish this book. But until I finish my book, I’m going to dedicate my life 100% to writing my book. I’m going to make my book ridiculous. I’m going to write this book such that if I die after its completion that work alone will shock the world indelibly. I’m not going to save any energy for the swim back across the lake, back to home. I’m leaving a shore to which I will never return. I hope to live a long life and I hope that my course correction after this writing will be the beginning of many things. But I’m going all in. I’m betting my life on this task. I’m going to write something that smokes everything else that has ever existed, writing-wise. It’s going to be impeccable, unparalled, consummate. I’m going to give my whole self to this. I’m not going to do any other creative work during this period. This book is getting my full attention.

I’m going to make it so that any English reader who picks up this book will not be able to put it down. From the first sentence to the last. It’s going to be highly structured. It’s going to be parliamentary. It’s going to be broadcast-type language, subtly styled but essentially parliamentary, from the punctuation on up. I’m going to have Tiffany in a black dress throwing up in a bathroom and it’s going to flow like the constitution. I’m going to call this Columbia.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Even with tech stuff, as with writing, start with the human interface. How is a person going to interact with this (book, library, program, etc.).

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Do things I love. Things that turn me on. Writing a book that blows people away. What in the programming realm? What’s the point of writing a book? Essentially that people enjoy reading it. For a program, it has to do something that people enjoy, or that changes life for them.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Thoughts of focusing on writing English exclusively (for a while). Wondering if I might have more of a vision for what to do there than in C. If I end up with a compelling vision of something I can do in C, then I can do that then. I mean I want to play with making conscious beings, emergent systems, and I am interested in valuation and modeling for “prediction”. I don’t know if I believe that I can succeed at that as much as I believe that I could write books, and can see myself writing books. I am troubled by what seems to me to be the situation that it would be very hard or impossible to live (have an apartment and food) on 1 or even 2 minimum wage jobs. And I don’t know if I want to give any more of my creativity to software companies. That’s too much of a full-time job to do while also writing. I wish I knew where Mom was going to live. I could plan on living with her and working a part-time job. Maybe I can live in low-income housing somewhere.

I don’t have to tell anyone what I’m doing. If I’m programming. If I’m writing. I don’t have to tell family, co-workers, friends, neighbors, acquaintainces, strangers, anyone. I can just do what I do in silence.

Once I make some money, I would like to move to New York or Paris or London. But until then, I don’t know. New York I could probably swing but it might be too hard on me. I don’t want to endure physical danger or slave labor.

Can I do writing while doing software work? Maybe, maybe not. I’m just not sure I want to give anyone else my creativity ever again. Maybe I should just eliminate that as a possibility…say I’m not going to do that, and just don’t.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m praying to the Universe in my writing. Please help me get an agent for my book, and help me and my agent get my book published. Please help me write the next thing, and please help me make it astounding.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Copying home dir to iPod with a backup on Mom’s computer. Putting iPod in plastic bin for storage. Not going to update attic/ or pictures/ directories until I get an external hard drive and/or new computer to store my stuff on. Will have frozen copies of attic/ and pictures/ on my iMac, iPod, and Mom’s Vista machine. Will deal further later. Realized today I probably lost data in the 1999.tar.gz file…file size is 4gig max size…file probably got truncated when I copied it to iPod (Fat32) and back to mt iMac. This may have happened with other files too…most likely would be the snapshots.tar.gz file in my CA stuff. Not sure, didn’t look. Splitting large files for today’s transfer to iPod and hoping I kept most stuff intact.

–[ 17 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Limit output channels. My blog. Published books. Minimize facebook activity.

–[ 16 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Read email less. Check 2-3 times a day, not constantly. That is more enjoyable to me.

Figure out the most deflective way to deal with Dad. That may mean not reading his mail. It may mean reading and responding quickly. Probably this last. Like in the old days when he came to visit and I didn’t really care. Enjoy the time for what it is but don’t make a deal of it. That’s probably the best way for me to proceed, for my sake.

–[ 16 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Counterinference system. That might be sellable, or something the government could use, obviously.

–[ 16 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Part of me thinks that the best thing for me to do would be to live with Mom for a while, get a bagger job at a grocery store, and write. Be partners with her in a way, enjoy the Mom company, be company for her, and take time to get my writing career going. Then, when I have money, I can move to New York, instead of trying to move there while I’m destitute.

–[ 15 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Keep my patience, my belief in the future, and some value of self. I need to get into a mode of caring about myself, liking myself.

–[ 15 december 2009 ]———————————————————

What do I want to do? Where do I want to be? A certain city? A certain job? Ugh.

–[ 14 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Gotta do the Dad-free-zone thing. Just have to. Can’t go there.

Thinking of going to New York. Stay with Suzanne? Will I find a job that’s enough to live on? I don’t fucking know. I do know that I need space from people, and I need to be able to materially survive. What should I do with my car? I have no idea. Maybe I could sell it to a parts shop in NYC.

I can keep information to myself. Just don’t mention things to people.

–[ 13 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Imagine my life however I want it. Live in Yellow Springs, live in SoHo, talk to noone, talk to everyone. Do whatever you want. Don’t ask permission. Don’t tell anyone. Just do exactly what you want.

In fact, don’t tell anyone…move to London, or Paris, or New York, and make my life for myself.

–[ 12 december 2009 ]———————————————————

I have a hard time relating to people. And given who I am, I think that’s entirely understandable.

I think I need to have more success than people who frustrate me, so that I can have that in my own mind as a pacifier. I don’t want/need to smack people down to their face, if I can have some recognition. I just looked over parts of snowbunny. It is what it is, but parts of that are brilliant. As a piece of writing, perhaps not as a novel, but as a piece of writing, that is definitely something. If I could get TSID published, Universe, and have that be loved and popular and critiqued well, and taught in schools, and make enough money for me to live for the rest of my life, that would be excellent. I would be humble and quiet and diligent at my next work. Please Universe please! Be my buddy.

–[ 12 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Thinking about my dad makes me want to kill myself. So…let’s not do that.

–[ 12 december 2009 ]———————————————————

That the only thing that matters is text, is writing, in whatever language. “Text is my life!”

–[ 12 december 2009 ]———————————————————

Going through phases with Dad-stuff. Wondering if I should keep a journal of my feelings each day for a while, because I’m wondering if I’m in a 35-day cycle of emotion. I feel more resolved after some recent thoughts about the situation (posted on just now). Not sure if my feelings on this are situational, or cyclic-independent. Neither is clear.

Thinking of being limited in my output channels. Like: the only thing I output is novels, and if they don’t get published, then people just don’t read them. Wondering if I can cast aside programming or writing, and just do one. Wondering where/how I can have a life that I pay for, without doing software work…or even doing software work. Job options look bleak. Trying to chill while I wait it out. Thoughts of seeking out a homeless shelter in NYC or Philly to get totally out from under the wing of family, get some breathing room. I’m sure that would suck, but the thought occurs.

It would help me soooo much, Universe, if I could have one success. At writing. If I could publish Things Said in Dreams, it would give me enough resolve and energy for 20 years of work on novels, if I had a sign that I could believe that my future work *might* be published. I’ve written so much, and with not much published/produced, it’s hard to believe that it’s even slightly worth it to keep writing. I will, I suspect, because I love the act of doing it. It would be heaven on earth if I knew that I would not be denied publication for the rest of my life. Can I please have that Universe? Will you please let Things Said in Dreams get published, as support for me to spend gobs of my time in life writing more?

Also, thoughts of names. I think I am going to use “Matthew Van Temple” as my writing and public name. And inhaesio zha as my legal name.

–[ 9 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

[sent to cia website contact form]
[the form says it didn’t submit…good grief]
[submitted a message to them saying I couldn’t submit a message, got confirmation number 7G5Z8]

I’m frustrated with the current situation in the U.S. as it relates to alternate 9/11 theories.

I wrote a letter on the contact form and I wanted to write a brief note to you as well. Of course, as a normal citizen, I have no clue what’s actually going on, so if my comments seem ignorant to you because you have more information than me, please go easy on me. But:

This growing group of academics/scholars/etc. who are signing petitions asking for new 9/11 investigations, are disturbing me. Personally, I don’t know what to believe is true. And my complaint isn’t about that. I accept that there is an “us” and a “them” when it comes to compartmentalized information, not just across countries, but within them. So I don’t expect that I will be able to know the truth about what is going on, even in my own country. I get that. I get that it’s necessary.

But, normally, I’m able to peacefully think that conspiracy theorists are crazy. Whereas, in the case of some (just some) of the 9/11 alternate theory people, to my (lay, simple, uninformed) perception, it *seems* like there is reasonable science-oriented argument against the official 9/11 theory.

Whether those theorists are right or wrong, while I would love to know, is not my major concern. Here is my primary concern: I think that the fact that those theorists have been allowed to state their points in a way that ends up convincing so many people…indicates that we are not doing [what I perceive as] our job, security-wise. That they are able to present a case that convinces a nontrivial number of non-idiot people, to me is a problem whether they’re “right” or not. If they’re wrong, but they’re convincing non-idiots of their theory that there is a spooky conspiracy behind 9/11, isn’t it a security benefit to discredit those theorists? Lots of conspiracy theorists that have some vision into “the truth” are, I would wager, being properly discredited. I don’t feel like in the case of *some* of the 9/11 conspiracy theories, that these people are being either discredited at the level of public debate, or being discredited by [I guess] the likes of you!

I don’t know what you do and never will. I’m just saying: at some very deep level, to me it seems like what these people are saying, and the scientific-discourse type of way that some of them are saying it (thermite cutter charge theorists especially–papers saying unreacted thermitic material found in WTC rubble (most of the theories seem silly to me…that one, makes me wonder–and as a guy who just wants to be an American and work, etc., I don’t want to wonder about things like that!))…I feel like it would be in the U.S. interest to discredit these people either overtly or covertly, regardless of whether what they’re saying is true!!

Thanks for reading this. I appreciate it. And if I’m just ridiculously uninformed, from your point of view, and my points are pointless given my lack of information, then, sorry for wasting your time!

I’m just saying: as an observer of this, from my p.o.v., this seems like a case where some things don’t add up. And in this note, I’m not speaking about 9/11 theories not adding up. I’m talking to the larger point of what seems to me to be a disconnect in terms of covert security response to 9/11 discourse — regardless of the underlying truth.

Inhaesio Zha / Matthew Van Temple

–[ 9 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

[submitted on contact form]

I wrote a while back speaking of the growing number of scholars who request an independent 9/11 investigation given their claims that the official explanation doesn’t hold water based on their scientific observations.

Silence from the U.S. government on this is intolerable to me.

I don’t know what the truth is. What I want is to live in a peaceful world…or a world where at least there is the illusion of peace.

These reports and statements by these scholars, disturb me. I don’t care whether they’re true or not. But I don’t feel that the government has successfully either acknowledged *or* discredited these people.

There are a number of people who are disturbed by these scientists’ allegations. I would appreciate, if the U.S. isn’t going to re-investigate the 9/11 events, that the U.S. intelligence services do a better job at discrediting these academics.

If I was working in U.S. intelligence and IF there was truth to what these conspiracy theorists were saying, I would at least do a better job of infiltrating and discrediting the conspiracy theorists!!

I’m a citizen who, ultimately, just wants to live in the illusion that my government cares about and is responsible for my security/safety. If that is the case, then what are all those PhDs doing signing petitions requesting 9/11 investigations.

But, at the very least, if the government, or elements of it, allowed Israel to blow up 2,000+ people in NYC (I’m just saying IF that is the case…or if there is any truth to these alternate 9/11 theories)…if that is the case, then the CIA, etc. should be doing a better job of discrediting those theorists. Because their theories, whether true or not, are, in my opinion, starting to constitute a threat to the perception of security here.

I would like a response to my letters on this subject. Where do you stand?

Inhaesio Zha
Matthew Van Temple

–[ 9 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’m having some I’m ok-you’re not ok/I’m not-ok/you’re-ok attitudes I want to change.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

My only products (for now) are text. Until I’m making movies someday, my products, whether C or English, are text.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Frustration and thoughts of suicide.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

There’s also the idea of making a game. It’s all: making a world, making a life, making a story, making characters. Making things people love.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

I ask businesses I send my resume to have a one-sentence mission statement. What’s my one-sentence mission statement? Can I commit to one thing? If I could commit to just writing fiction, for example, my entire life would become simple. I could arrange everything around that. I love writing. I love programming. I love making movies. I think I could extend any of these to an epic level. I also love simple drawing and photography, but I think photography, and to a lesser degree, drawing–they are smaller enterprises for me.

Limiting my work to only programming and writing is good. Can I, should I, limit it more? To just one of those? Should I combine them? Do I know how to combine them? If I eliminate programming (can I?) then I could get a job at a grocery store, find a cheap place to live or live with Mom, and make my total focus writing novels. That is a clearly-understandable goal to me. With programming, what do I want to program? With novels, I understand I think (perhaps) what I might do with them…telling a story is relatively comprehensible to me. With programming, I would need a mission, a goal :: clearly something intelligence/simulation oriented, but what exactly?

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

And this (life) is primarily a spiritual journey. Not something else.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

And I can write no matter what. No one can take that from me. Even if no one ever reads what I write, I can still write, and I can still love writing. I think that’s how I need to look at it. As a world that is completely mine. My thought-world. Which is where I always say creatures with large brains should mostly live. That is where I’ll live.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

I love to write. That’s enough reason, and perfect reason, to do it.

Do things I love. Do that on a day-by-day basis.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

And be patient, beyond it. Be immovably patient. Glacial. If I want to learn French and become a Frenchman, take each day, each minute, in glacial patience knowing that the day will come. But, mainly: present moment. As they say, don’t recall the past or invite the future. Be here now.

–[ 8 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Keep on my spiritual discipline. Work on leaving behind comparing myself to others. That’s my current thing I’m practicing.

–[ 7 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Having thoughts of worthlessness.

–[ 7 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Depressed. Or on the verge of anxiety. Is there a way that I will be able to live and be happy? Upset about the news, about the lack of good company, about the shape of the world and my [in]ability to participate with it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this mind, with this body, with this life?

–[ 6 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

I have a readable draft of TSID. Or one or two drafts past readable. This one is definitely what I would consider readable by others. I already wrote my query letter for agents for this. I’m not going to send it to anyone before it’s ready. Is it ready? It may be, if I don’t know what else I’d want to do to it.

I’m going to spend some time tonight thinking about that, not staring at a screen, and see how I feel, what I think along these lines.

–[ 6 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

And, paradoxically, by working that life, living that life, I will be communicating with *everyone*. Writing a book that everyone I’ve ever met, and tons more people I’ve never met, can pick up and interact with instantly.

–[ 5 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Remember the idea of my work being how I express myself, how I interface. If I can make my work so good and so valuable that my work is the only way that I ever have to interface with the world, that will be a nice balance point: if I could, say, earn my whole living from book royalties, then the only point I ever have to talk with the rest of the world is through a literary agent. That can be minimal contact. And I can be [hopefully wealthy] and yet have almost no required interface with the world.

–[ 5 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Remember my idea of being a teacher. Teach something at an inner-city school?

–[ 5 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Work only in emacs. Work always with the same font. Change the world, change my world. Make writing that is beautiful and sells. Make software that changes consciousness. Make my tools simple: emacs, xterm, gcc, tex :so it’s consistent and simple for me, yet I can do a lot. Make all these systems work for me, for my peace, for my happiness, for my creativity.

–[ 5 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

“Pandora is my bitch.” (Mom)

–[ 4 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Once I publish my book and make enough money to live off it for the rest of my life, I want to sit around watching CNN all the time on a couch in an anonymous apartment somewhere.

–[ 3 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. I’m not domesticated.

–[ 3 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Make money writing books and get an apartment in London or Paris, and just write and live.

–[ 3 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Man Ray: “There is no progress in art, any more than there is progress in making love. There are simply different ways of doing it.” (1948 essay, “To Be Continued, Unnoticed”.)

–[ 3 december 2009 ]———————————————————-

Dream of an underground world created by nanotechnology programmed systems. Music in the air. People could fly. And how software could be made to do this.

Also I was naked in this dream, and I could see my own tattoos.

–[ 28 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Keep as a constant trait of mine the peace-during-armageddon focus of Dr. Falken in War Games. Never think about death, even when it is told to be impending.

–[ 28 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Have 141 pages of TSID.

–[ 28 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Saw Bill Murray on David Letterman tonight. Murray’s costume (something like an 1800s English Squire) was a reminder to allow one’s eccentricities to be.

–[ 27 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Write for the rest of November. All day every day. Then reconsider and make a plan. But whatever you’re doing, get deep into it. Go all the way with a small number of things. Like 1, perhaps. But one during an epoch for sure.

–[ 27 november 2009 ]———————————————————

There are no right answers. Just do what you want and don’t think about it.

–[ 25 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Want to get it all in one place. Streamline it. Catalogue my efforts on the fingers of one hand. Get it down to a small set of endeavors. And make them things that can engage me my whole life. Writing novels. Programming (what?) complex systems used for simulation in health-biology for humans, simulating thought and politics, creating systems as companions for people? Is that it? Is that too much? Maybe I should just write. Just write books and that’s it. Or just take pictures. I do feel the need now that I’ve hit the NaNoWriMo 50k word mark to look for a job. I am not done writing this book. For the rest of November I will work on TSID and Dec 1 I will look into figuring out a job/living plan. But I want that to come soon. I hope, I hope, I hope hope hope I can get this book to a point where it will be published and read. Any results though are out of my hands. It’s best to leave them out of my thinking altogether.

–[ 23 november 2009 ]———————————————————

What is intuition?

–[ 23 november 2009 ]———————————————————


so? hows writting?

it’s good :: wrote some today but not finished, taking a break though to play Cafe World =)=)

how arr you!!?

good…. typical SAHM day… breaks are good


sorry ws on the phone with my sister

who is having a abby!!!

I’ll be an uncle next year


you should think of having sum of your own …


once I can support them at a high level of comfort and pay for them all to go to college, I will very likely do that! =)=)

then you will be to old sigh….

I won’t be too old…I’ll just have to find a 20-something woman when I’m in my 30s

35=me, 22=her…that’s ok right?

maybe 35=me, 24-26=her

sure but i will be utterly smitten with jealousy


so true

thanks! =)=)

see that thought makes you smile me being jealous…

yes it does

it does

thanks for that

you are dear to me; tjhat we can continue to conversate on FB all these years is awesome

envy u now as well



what is your fav tori amos song?

ooh, I love his question

I love Happy Phantom from Little Earthquakes. And I love Marianne from Boys for Pele.

How about you?


oooh =)=)

silent all these years

do u like lily allen

I don’t know he


oh matt u have to look her up

ok I will, thx!!!

start with not fair!

ok, I will look her up…do you have any mp3s, if you have one on hand, mail it to me so I remember!

but I’ll make a note

mmm hm i will try

you’re the best

what does your evening look like?

ummm? free I think


just wondering, so I can think of you in more detail

shopping for thanksgiving dinner

and homework with the girls i plan on trying to draw tonight it has been awhile

going gtocery shopping now :: love chatting with you

let’s do it again soon!

hope you have a good night


–[ 23 november 2009 ]———————————————————


are you done being sick I hope?

mostly finally

still coughing

feel human today though

I’m glad!

me too

just in time to not skip out on thanksgiving lol

do you do a big thxnkgvng?

3 houses in one day

that’s big!

yeah i hate it

it never works out to get to eat the good food lol

sounds like a scheduling and optimization nightmare =)=)


hows the wrimo this week?

it’s going! I wrote about 1500 words this morning, will do another 500 or so today at least :: Tuesday it’s been really fun!! I need to spend more of my time/life writing

i gave up on mine the first week lol

I’m using some texture from our high school days in my story, so don’t be surprised if you see little bits of my impressions of you here and there in this story

will do it in jan instead i decided

I think I will be able to get it published when it’s done



having the daily word count has really helped me to actually fricking write

because that’s how I can measure “success” without worrying about the content of it

I would love to read what you write, Tues’!

yeah i like the word count thing, i will use it when i get to it


i’m so bad at doing things at the right time though lol

sweet I mean


yeah, well no reason it has to happen in Nov. for sure

i did the craft everyday in oct one last year, that was fun too

i should have done that again

i kinda forgot about it

after this month I just want to set up a life where I can work as little as possible, some regular job, and have a station at home where I write every day, and not think about anything else

I think that would be suited to me

yes josh is having issues with that now, new job he was maybe getting has a weird scheduel where he wouldn’t be able to work after work as well as he can now

so i think hes going to not take it

ugh :: good I’m glad he won’t take it possibly, gotta have the life balanced :: that’s something I haven’t been good at but I want to

going gtocery shopping now :: love chatting with you :: I hope you get all the way better

thanks, get yourself a treat lol

ok, ! tyyl

–[ 21 november 2009 ]———————————————————

To Ash :: “*loved* our talk just now” :: “You’re my closest friend and I feel in some ways like, though we’ve been close all along, that I’m in a better place now than I have been in so many years, that I am able to approach you, and our friendship, with a better *me* than has been available for…about 7 years. I hope it will seem that way to you as time goes on. But I am excited, as I feel like–not that I’m getting *back* to any past state–but that I’m getting to a better place, as me, than I’ve ever been before. And I look forward to being able to relate with you better because of it.”

–[ 21 november 2009 ]———————————————————

And a lesson to me (again). Rarity breeds value. My recent (few weeks ago) FB friend pruning has resulted on the whole in me liking FB more. What I don’t see contributes to my happiness. Who I know will read what I post makes my posts more valuable to me, and causes me to post different things. Knowing that it’s a restricted audience allows me to be more freely me.

–[ 21 november 2009 ]———————————————————

AKMM FB status: “Anna Kiss Mauser-Martinez is surrounded by fools and amateurs.”

–[ 18 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Starting to have a vision. Write a program that makes all the money in the world. Take over all exchange. Tyrell Corporation. Singularity. Trading Places. Biological possibility.

–[ 18 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Recluse writer vision of myself. Books being extremely popular. Me being extremely private, singular.

–[ 17 november 2009 ]———————————————————

I think I could ensconce and write more. Like for my next book I could take a whole year to write it, and know that a whole year was worth it. Write 600k, or 1m words, edit the thing down, make the thing a gem, an epic (both). Write an amazing book, after my first book puts me on the map, write a book that will ensure my place there.

–[ 17 november 2009 ]———————————————————

It’s funny. Writing this book further assuages me. I’m not done yet but to the degree to which I get this right, I feel fine. It’s like if you can get one thing absolutely right then everything else becomes ok. Like, in a way, not using drugs, never drinking, even as extreme as that is in this culture, just doing that makes everything else ok. Or inventing one thing, defining one thing, like my cells-with-memory stuff, that one thing, years ago, made everything else so much more ok, almost ok. And if I get this book right. If I can get this book absolutely right. Which in this case means published, read, loved, and right in my own creation. If I can do that. Everything else will become ok. I have to get it absolutely right for that to work though. It has to be seamless, watertight. It has to be *absolutely* right. It has to be targeted well, aimed, fired, and received. If I get this absolutely right it will be published as a matter of course. If I get this absolutely right it will be read and loved as a matter of course. Those will be afterthoughts and side issues if I get this absolutely right.

–[ 16 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Imagination is everything.

–[ 16 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Feel so sad. Write to destroy.

–[ 16 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Amy having a baby is perfect, in a generational grand-scheme sort of way: it gives Mom, Dad, everyone something to focus on, something to think about. It directs us. It’s totally insane, the way I hear Mom talking on the phone with Amy right now, but it gives focus. Which I welcome: give the parents somewhere to direct their energies, put them in a role they can understand and follow.

–[ 15 november 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m going to write this book by the end of November. It’s going to be smooth, it’s going to be complete. Over the next couple months I’m going to find a publisher for it. They’re going to give me an advance. The book is going to be published, and loved, and I’m going to make enough money from it to live for many years. With that time, I am going to write more books, invent things, and live peacefully, quietly, healthily, and well.

–[ 14 november 2009 ]———————————————————

Remember to plan for my future…a future that will be great, and it can exist! :: house in morocco or wherever.

–[ 13 november 2009 ]———————————————————

I will never again make the mistake of spending 5 days doing something like arguing with a bum family member when I could have spent 5 days writing, or programming, or creating something. I will never waste my time like that again.

–[ 13 november 2009 ]———————————————————

I am so depressed and so lonely. I want to make my book, make it wonderful, make it crushing, make it definitive, and then I want to move somewhere and hide, cry, and mirror my internal lonliness with external aloneness. It hurts.

–[ 11 november 2009 ]———————————————————


your Christopher Walken status :: might send me back to counselling

or possibly just to Walken’s house to see what he says

i think he’d approve



he seems like just the kind of sick fuck :: did you post something of him reading lady gaga lyrics recently, that had to be you

two friends posted it on my wall

it was genius and made me quite happy that 2 people thought of me in relation to it


but i’m a pretty sick fuck


I need sick fucks to confide in :: normal people take stuff way too seriously

so when I open my mouth around them they get scared, say things like “stay away from my children” etc.

that was my uncle actually, who said that

fortunately his children are not attractive to me

not in that way

haha, yes i’m told not to be around children either ;);)

i like quirky folks as well

although I’m good with children around 5yrs :: they’re on my level, or perhaps the other way ’round

children hate me cause i get in their faces and try to act their age. they don’t like it very much.

lol ouch, you on a playground == danger for tots you’re saying :: maybe you should stay away from my kids

which are mostly cats and a tiny plastic pig

haha, yes i’m not built for kids. i and the rest of the world would fear at my procreation.

fear my

but my kids would be cute and talented as hell. don’t get me wrong.

yet you were soliciting for “spunk” of some persuasion recently, though in a much more poetic way which I now forgot, I love those yip yip guys my sister and I do those skits to each other all the time

we used to watch Muppets Take Manhattan together religiously as kids but we tried it a couple years ago and it wasn’t the same

I still like Janice, I think her name is? the hippie one

yes Janice is pretty awesome.

are you stalking me? :):)

i hope so

=)=) I’m trying but I may leave something to be desired, as I’m stalking my cats as well, children-cats, and also arguing with people online and trying to write a book, but, essentially … yes I am stalking you

can you feel my look when you’re getting into the car in a dark parking lot? do you turn around only to see something duck into the shadows?

excellent. way to make a girl feel like a priority

i like you in the light better ;);)

i’m currently stalking my dad so i guess we’re even

not dad



oh god i’m so sorry

I did mail you new batteries for your –appliance– :: FedEx, with a very sweet card that I signed in blood and semen :: so, um, there is that :: but I was going to wait for it to be a surprise

oh you said dad lol

that’s kindof beyond a typo

I mean, “a” is waaay over there…and “o” is waay over there

that’s incredible. how did you know I would appreciate blood, semen, and batteries


way beyond a typo. shut up

from your status messages, dork!


I meant, “duh!”

oh yeah, i’m pretty transparent that way

it’s better that way, filter people out as early as possible is one of my many mottos that I just made up on the fly

like “never give a janitor a handgun”

I mean “”handjob””

that’s another saying I like to use

with 5 year olds


or, like, Muppets Make Messes.

that’s a nice turn o’ the phrase


will you be online in a while?

do you care?


I’m just messing with you

i have a friend over but want to talk. just can’t now.

yes, freak, I’ll be here and waiting for abuse




you awake still? hehe

yes, hey

whatcha upto?


i’m a little drunk

i’m a little drunk

what r u up to at 2am sir?

=)=) =)=) what are you drinking?

yeungling lager

Miss, I am doing up at 2am :: programming, working on a cellular automata project


and trying to keep warm

oh, much more productive things than i

oh no :: I think drinking is more productive


you sound like you’re having fun!

well, kind of i guess.

that’s a trait I value … in others

i was. drinking with a friend but now i’m on fb

so really you wouldn’t give christopher walken a golden shower? shame on you





of course I would

dude, don’t call me mary. mary alice. fb makes it hard to tell my name

yeah!! I’m all confised when it says Mary

I’d rather you me and Walken collaborate on a stop-motion animation of scat porn, but, I may not get that wish

oh god, how did you read my mind?

oh shit, and here I’m thinking I crossed a line

i know, most are confused but stupid fb insists on mary only

not with you, but with Walken

never, i know no boundaries

oh, well he might

I like the idea of calling you Malice

thanks, i love that nickname

it’s my fb moniker

it just fits so fucking well

! it’s super-cool !

yeah, that scares me! is that because you torture kittnes?

now I’m trying as though I was drunk, wtf


I’m vicariously drunk via a javascript chat window

I will take what I can get

no, i love animals. i only torture people ;_

haha, yes. be drunk with me




I think I am.

oops, I just saw your torture people remark, can you do that to me? I haven’t been tortured in :: months

it was nice as I recall

how do you do it?

haha, always ready to dominate!


are you buzzed or drunk?

i’ve never gotten into s&m but i’m pretty sure it would agree with me

in between i guess. why?

or wwould you say you’re schlitzed?

haha, just buzzed i guess.

because, um, I want to know how drunk you are so I can appropriately manipulate you in chat? =

interesting. . .i’m the ultimate manipulator so that might be difficult.

s&m … me either, I’ve only dabbled in tying up, choking, and punching in the face

i’ve had incredibly uncreative lovers and it makes me mad

punching in the face?

that’s a great reason to be mad, I think

well i’ll try anything once. i’m a trooper

yes, with one woman/girl, one time, we tried punching each other, it was one of those days where you have sex nine times because you haven’t seen each other in a month, and around time #7 we took turns punching each other, I’ve never done it before or since, but it worked that day

we were very close and had been together for 3 years, so it was a safe person to try that with!!

wow, i feel closer to you matt.

thanks ;0


np, that’s why I’m here..

now you go

well nothing so intimate cause i’m committment-phhobic and therefore never get trust-worythy enough to really share good stuff with people in bed. sad, isn’t it?

i’m pretty sure i could really rock someone’s world should they let me

like Christopher Walken?


just like that


i’m not down with a wrinkly penis though


he’s pretty old

so you only do not-good stuff in bed with someone you are phobic about committing to?

how old is he? when he was readin lady gaga I was thinking he’d make the perfect grandad to read me stories

no, i try but i’ve never acquired the longevity that trust can heighten an intimate connection.

he could be your great grandad dude!


i date a lot but can’t seem to settle down. i’m a dude.

in a hot girls body ;);)



that’s ideal. I have just the place for you. can’t say any details but it’s just some experiments I’m doingP


I was a dude in LA the last couple of years, wasn’t serious with anyone, even if they were serious with me

uh huh. ..

earlier in life I had some longer and more intimate relationships, and they were hgretat great

but, now I’m asexual

yes, agreed

I reproduce by dividing in two

want to see?

wow, that’s talent

I’ll post a vide



i’ve been asexual my whole life till a few months ago. it’s weird.

where’s this video?


and the last few months you turned into a dude?

(in a hotgirlsbody?)

what made it happen?

aside from the hormones and surgeries

and the fact you were held captive in a basement by bsdm freaks

oops…wrong window


I like my little scenario I invented for you

except that in real life people do get kidnapped and that’s not cool

favorite bumper sticker ever:

this is in Dayton:



I pulled up beside the driver

not fat…so probably a kidnapper


awesome, it’s true though

i’m a pretty good kidnapping target

what are your qualifications?

little, vagina included, lack of concern for my existence. basically.

omfg, don’t turn me on

I’m in the wrong profession, you and I should go on a drug-infused cross-country kidnapping rampage

I think

can we please?

except you’re probably already doing that and texting me from the road

i would totally dig that


i wish

yes, certainly; it would be rude of me to suggest it and then say no


I think instead of an unmarked van we should have either a pink jeep


maybe an 18wheeler really decked out with torture stuff in the back


oooh, both good choices

i’ve always wanted to be a trucker, personally

for the long hours of meditation time?

can we have a pink 18 wheeller maybe?

or just so you can go in the trucker porn stores?


yes pink I think would be wonderful!

of course

I mean it is kidnapping but we don’t have to be completely grave about it

agreed. pink makes kidnapping fun and socially acceptable

esp. since we’ll be out of our fucking minds (naturally) the whole time

plus it makes it more fun for the kids


I mean



of all ages

if someone kidnapped me I would try to make friends with them, by talking with them nicely

i would love to chat more but need to crash.


sleep tight

that’s a good tactic though

you too.





–[ 11 november 2009 ]———————————————————

With that whole Rusty/Mom/me thing…the two of them didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers before Rusty called Mom’s to apologize to me. That’s one of the biggest pieces of that whole thing that neither Mom nor Rusty are talking about.

–[ 9 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Bring it on. I got bulldogs in my pen, and I take good care of em.

–[ 9 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Is there anything you can do for me? Yes. Stop sucking.

–[ 7 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Forget being able to keep up with me in terms of writing as much text as I do. You can’t even read as much text as I write.

You can’t even read as much text in a day as I write in one.

–[ 7 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Tuesday‘s limerick:

There once was a girl named mink
who was into the color pink
she is never missed
when up to her wrist
though she sometimes gives the brown eye a wink

–[ 7 november 2009 ]———————————————————-


Tuesday, talk to me for a second; if you have a second; I’m going crazy


oops sorry I went offline

thanks for IMing back

don’t have much to say


whats up ?

I don’t know how to describe it, just don’t’ know what I’m doing :: figured you have the answers, correct?

like a magic 8 ball

all signs point to yes


that works,

I can deal with that


–[ 7 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

I can write you into a tomb. I can write your mouth shut and your eyes open. I can write your hands behind your back.

–[ 7 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

The minute you start making sense is the minute I start paying attention.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Mary Alice Skalko wishes Optimus Prime was coughing from my vagina.
38 minutes ago via Facebook Text Message · Comment · Like / Unlike
Robbi Marie
Robbi Marie
hmmmm…. wow…. ha…. :) ♥
27 minutes ago
Robbi Marie
Robbi Marie
i wish ________ was _______ing in my __________
26 minutes ago
Matthew Temple
Matthew Temple
Mary Alice you are *so* a poet in my book
17 minutes ago · Delete

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Meryl Ephraim is officially obsessed with the channel Investigation Discovery
24 minutes ago via Facebook for BlackBerry · Comment · Like / Unlike
You like this.
Matthew Temple
Matthew Temple
big ditto there ::
17 minutes ago · Delete
Meryl Ephraim
Meryl Ephraim
They are having a Marriage is Murder marathon this weekend!!
16 minutes ago
Matthew Temple
Matthew Temple
!! Cool! I can’t say enough about the show “Most Evil”. And I love me some David Koresh Documentary. You get jaded though…like if I see a show about someone killing their spouse for the insurance $$ I’m disappointed–give me a police chief who kills on the job, or a mom who strangles her kids–something :: sick huh?
11 minutes ago · Delete
Meryl Ephraim
Meryl Ephraim
Yeah I agree, I like when the stories take an expected turn…wife who ties up hubby as as “sex game” and then stabs him “by accident” when the blindfold is on TWICE!! And then puts him in the car to “go to the hospital” and finishes him in an isolated parking lot!!! WTF! How did that actually happen!! I saw that one last week.
6 minutes ago
Matthew Temple
Matthew Temple
=) lol
about a minute ago · Delete

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

[matthew] also, please tell Mary Alice to stop being such a genius facebook
poster, it’s hurting me how much she can do in 140 characters
[ashley] hahaha! she is really fantastic
[matthew] yep

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

20,000 words in 6 days you can suck my fucking cock

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

I can write three thousand words a day and still have time to fuck with people.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Tuesday Walker Feltz: “Most of the time when I am overwhelmed with life, I can think about the good things and be overwhelmed with how blessed I really am. Glad this is one of those times.”

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

I am vicious. And there’s something wonderful about that.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Aldous Huxley: “A belief in hell and the knowledge that every ambition is doomed to frustration at the hands of a skeleton have never prevented the majority of human beings from behaving as though death were no more than an unfounded rumor.”

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Let’s not do things half-assed. Let’s do them whole-hog.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

When I’m done writing, there won’t be a me, and there won’t be Ohio or Pennsylvania, or California, or Dallas, or Tucson. There won’t be a predicament. There won’t be a past. There won’t be a job or joblessness. I will step through a door which will then seal and dissappear.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

To be me, you would have had to go hell and back, and you don’t have the stomach.

–[ 6 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Today my first priority is writing. Before eating, before checking email, before thinking about jobs, before imagining what people in my family are thinking. Writing is the first thing today.

–[ 5 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

Oscar Wilde: “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.” “Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.” “I am not young enough to know everything.” “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.” “Illusion is the first of all pleasures.” “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” “One should always play fairly when one has the winning cards.” “America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.” “The critic has to educate the public; the artist has to educate the critic.” “Man can believe the impossible, but can never believe the improbable.”

–[ 5 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’m in a hole and the only way is to write myself out.

–[ 4 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

You should probably do what doesn’t make you tired. That’s a good way to pick a career. Most things make most people tired. Sometimes you find that you’re the one person in an activity who isn’t getting tired. That’s when you know you’ve found your career.

–[ 3 november 2009 ]———————————————————-

If every painter in history just had crayons Picasso would still be Picasso.

–[ 31 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Miss Lamb: I love you more here/now than I could possibly have known I would there/then.

–[ 31 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

It came up in conversation…Mom was older than me when she went to seminary and started her second career.

–[ 31 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

In response to this post (, Tuesday writes “I think you have always inspired great love in people. And there are few who would not be jealous of that.”

What a tribute, and what a profound statement on its own.

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

rsync is love.

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

“I care that she’s sick; does she care that I’m dying?” (Mom)

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Talking with Mom earlier. People get the wrong idea about us. Like they’re getting one over on us. Like they’re the ones with the power. When it’s very often massively the other way round.

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Never trust anyone with sucky wallpaper. Maybe it’s a lack of aesthetic sense. Maybe it’s a low valuation of aesthetic effect. Maybe it’s a fear of being perceived as caring about aesthetics. Whatever it is, I don’t want to have anything to do with you.

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Learn French, move to Paris.

–[ 29 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Never trust anyone who isn’t weird.

–[ 28 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’ve had years of counselling; now if everyone else would do the same.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Even where I live–I’m going to crystallize that.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Recalling sitting outside Zin with my gin and tonic, drinking about six of those, ordering at the bar and having a place at the bar, but drinking by myself outside on the stairwell in the cooling weather, last winter. It’s fucked up in a way. But I feel really nostalgic for that time. I was being paid, I had a place to live, a job, could eat out when I wanted to. I’m glad for that path I’m taking, but I don’t think it’s sensible to be so simplistic that I consider this “progress” over that. I’m glad I’m not doing hard stuff to my body like drinking that much, but I miss that time.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

After I finish scanning all this stuff I really am going to simplify my pursuits, my focus, get it pristine before I take another step forward.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Today’s Just For Today: “We want to look our past in the face, see it for what it really was, and release it so we can live today.” That is so what I’m doing right now.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Kimberly Fairchild, upon being re-connected with me on Facebook says I captured Tuesday beuatifully in my photographs, “AND you write beautifully”.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’m learning something about love, which is that love some people can be loved more because they’re _more there_. (The one who more creates the story is the one who can elicit a response. The ones with huge presence are the ones eligible for stalkers.) But in any setting, the act of love operates within a substrate of _presence_.

–[ 27 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Live such that if you died today you would leave a deep hole.

–[ 26 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Some of the most amazing things you can “see” are things you can’t see at all. Like a cat’s eye at night. One of my eye sees it as black, the other of my eyes sees it as green. In my mind, it’s like what I’m looking at is silverish, or reflective, or floating color. But what I see isn’t there in simple sight. It’s not there with any one of my eyes. It’s not there in a picture. But it is there in my experience. I’m seeing it, I’m knowing it in a way that seems visual. But it’s really conceptual, not there in simple sight.

–[ 25 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Me: I’ll keep this quick, as I assume you’re calling from South Africa.
Suzanne: Actually, I’m in Paris.
Me: [lol]

“He’s the guy who failed me, and you can’t let the guy who failed you see you down. I can’t let him think that he got my goat, even though he pretends he’s not a goat-getter.” –Suzanne, on Dad

Suzanne: People lie because they think they can’t handle something.

–[ 25 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Dream last night that I had my friends again, that Shringara and that old crew were together, and we had a little boat, it was my boat, a thin 12-14 foot, thinner than a canoe, with a sail, and we were packing our clothes and food for the trip, we packed light, just what we needed, and we lived right on the ocean, and the waves were impossibly huge and in waking life would have been fatally dangerous, but in the dream we were going to be fine, it was a quick afternoon trip akin to a picnic, and I was out of contact with my family, but it was going to be ok, because I had found a sustenance job that would keep me afloat in my apartment-renting situation, and on my day off I would be able to sail with my friends.

–[ 25 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Kristal Maddox crime. Watching a prosecutor who is black, with a chip on his shoulder, badger white girls on the stand. I’m not saying they don’t deserve the sentences they got. I’m saying that this prosecutor’s speech to them is wack, and I wonder if he’s getting off on prosecuting [in some cases rich] white girls.

–[ 24 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

It’s overwhelming to read my notes that have some of what Rebecca said in them…the She was so afraid of losing me!

–[ 24 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

The thing you want to be, by the situation changing, is not the thing that you will want once the situation changes. The you that can want that thing to be, is not the you who will be there if you manage to get the thing you want, as getting that thing will have required you to change.

–[ 24 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I just wrote a blog post ( While I intend to further grow in my life, I have to be honest that one of my blog posts is more accomplishment that many people will reach in their whole life. And that admission gives me deja-vu.

–[ 24 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I just started to look over an email I sent to Dad, to re-read it and obsess over it. I debated whether to re-read it, as I want to move beyond obsession with the past. As soon as I opened the sent message the electricity in the house went off, just for a second, and all my computers went down. I’m taking it as a sign that the universe does not want me to obsess over the past, and I’m not going to re-open that email.

–[ 24 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Chatted with Mary Alice. It was nice.

–[ 23 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

The only people who don’t like me are the ones who think they can control me.

–[ 23 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I have been so selective about who’s in my phone and who’s in my facebook, etc. I have a new way: if I know you, you’re going on my goddamn facebook.

With the exception of work: work people stay at work, period. No work people ever have my personal email or are on my facebook.

–[ 23 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

This is the whole thing for me right now. I’ve known that we create our problems by setting up a target, and then by railing against that target. And that to work at solving a problem is what reinforces it. And some people, some times, don’t have the problems that others have at other times, simply because they don’t set up the same target: they don’t exert the same expectations, and so there is nothing to rail against. With Dad, for instance: I don’t have to rail against him. I can change my name back to Matthew Van Temple, and I can stop saying to myself and others that there is some problem between me and Dad. I can forgive my expectations of him, forget those expectations. It doesn’t change anything except that for me there won’t be a problem. On the one hand, I can rail against things, people not being what I imagine they could be. Or I can stop. I can stop railing against everything. It doesn’t define what Dad is, it doesn’t define what I am, it doesn’t make things better or worse in terms of that relationship, in terms of what that relationship *is*. It doesn’t make us close or far away. What it is is what it is despite what I expect, despite how I complain. Me not railing doesn’t make us something I could want us to be that we never have been and never will be (any such thing I might imagine). I can proceed with a normal way of doing things, that I have denounced in others and myself, but I can proceed this way: not make it an issue. If Dad doesn’t call, who cares. If Dad does call, who cares. I didn’t used to care about it as much, back before [sometime]. When I was living in Dayton working at LexisNexis, partying with friends and loving Rebecca, I didn’t care. Dad came to visit and I left him at the house to go do ecstasy with my friends and my love. I knew he was my father, and I loved him and tolerated him and welcomed him, but I didn’t think too much about it! I was much more realistic back then. (And that can happen again.) I can love and call on the phone and go to the park and buy groceries and go to work and not care *too* much about it or *think* too much about it, and it still be great.

–[ 23 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Thinking about the last few years realization that sometimes I get mad at people because they don’t live up to my unrealistic expectations.

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I just looked at a picture of Rishi and realized in a new way how sad she was.

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Gonna do Nanowrimo with Mom @ Mom’s house.

Want to write a book that will once and for all shut everyone up, a book after which no conversation with me will ever be the same.

Something that when even people who dislike me, or want to spurn me, read it, they will be unable to discount me, and will be unable to deny that it is more beautiful than anything they have ever known.

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Nationalism is extremely boring.

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Family Feud today asked “What do you sleep with to make you feel safe?” The top answer was “a gun”. Am I the only one who would have answered “teddy bear”?

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I love being the editor of the photos I’m scanning. Things I like, I scan. Things I don’t like, people who annoy me, I don’t; and they are edited out of history, rendered unimportant, erased. =)

–[ 22 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at the pictures, I’m reminded we smoked cigarettes and drank wine while shooting ducky. [Not that either are required, but…] We did that right.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

The only thing that will be voted on in the future is how much processing time will be used toward various ends.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at the pictures of me and Zochae painting in my Oregon District apartment, I don’t believe he’s dead!

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I have to say this, and I hope it won’t be a distastefully egocentric comment to you given that I’m writing this in a journal of sorts, but I think we must judge people by what they have written in their letters and journals, by what they’ve written in their email and said in their common speech. What is a person whose common speech, person-to-person speech and notes-to-self, what is a person whose common speech is trivial, is nothing? If my friends don’t remember me for the simple things I said to them, the basic ways I’ve lived with them, if my plain notes-to-self are of no significance, no relevance, no meaning, then what am I? Will we be able to read Sam Walton’s journal with benefit? If the answer is no, I think what the person is doing may be questionable _from a human point of view_. (He may be a nation’s best businessman, but how is he, what is he, _as a human_?) I’m not saying that an inventor or a photographer, an architect or a body worker whose common speech is insignificant, is not human, or is not benefitting humanity. But a person whose common speech is trivial is someone I am skeptical of, someone I doubt, in terms of their participation in the powerful play of humanity.

To be expected to work with such people, to play with such people, is ridiculous. To be expected to take orders from them is absurd. Compassion for them is required, but conversation with them is impossible.

On a certain level, from my point of view, they are _doing nothing_.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Thinking, more, about the period of visual art that followed Rebecca, in my life. It started before her, but intensified after her. Somehow, then, that was a major becoming of me. That was me, a part of me, that was formed in fire, a fire strong enough to kill. I think if we let them, those fires are possible at any time in life.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Stray thoughts about jobs, about them not having been satisfying to me in some ways. Thoughts questioning the satisfaction other people find, questioning the definition of success that is applicable to spending a lifetime acquiescing to the arbitrary demands of an office and of corporate structure. Really, what is to be valued about saying yes to your boss and maintaining enough invisibility to allow one to be nebulously accepted as part of the team?

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I think I’ve (without thinking, without stating it) feared that getting rid of pictures of Rebecca would be disrespectful. But going through her photos, as I’m going through all of my photos, scanning them, and getting rid of the film negatives, it feels ok to get rid of the film for hers as well. I’m scanning them well, holding the film up to the light to make sure I got them all and to take one last look, and saying “I love you, girl.” It takes some of the power away from the objects themselves; their power over me changes, to see the clear plastic sheet that those negatives have been in so long, partially empty, only the ends of the film negative left in the plastic slip, light pouring through the rest.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Recently I found a hair from Rebecca’s head that I originally found right after her death on a sweater in my closet. I had saved it in a sealed bag. Today I opened the bag. I could smell the perfume from the sweater. I looked at the hair in the sunlight, put it in my mouth and swallowed it.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Latino population growing. Yeah, cause you guys have so many fucking kids! Latinos are the future of the Catholic Church. And that fits perfectly with the Latino population growing: a ban on birth control, coupled with the tendency of poor, poorly-educatuted people to have lots of kids, means we’re going to have a bunch of poor, dumb people who don’t speak English as a majority, while power reigns are vehemently guarded by a misrepresentative minority. When I say “who don’t speak English” don’t think I’m being wantonly bigoted. Many Latinos in poor areas of the U.S. _don’t speak English_. I don’t hate people who speak Spanish. I don’t hate Latinos. But I am wary of poor/dumb cultural memes.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

The shape of space. I hear on the news about a terrorist named Mehanna. I knew someone during film school named Mhanna. It’s a name associated with a country or ethnicity. How many people do I know who know someone with a last name of Mhanna? Probably not many. Yet there are probably tons of people named Mhanna. Finding, meeting, actually knowing people named Mhanna isn’t a space that’s accessible in a way analagous to looking through an alphabetical list of people’s last names. It’s not a linear space, actually, even though we have some linear representations of “it” (some linear models claimed to correspond to it). The space is folded up, a maze, tunnels, branches, it’s not a line, or a plane, or anything like them.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

We’re celebrating the wrong people, the wrong actions. We celebrate the person who solves the case, the person who addresses a crisis. We should be celebrating the people who are feeding people, loving their children, and doing little bitty things to slightly improve the situation. But that doesn’t lend itself well to television.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Part of my psychology is related to the idea that I cannot support a family, that, financially, responsibility-wise, I am somehow outside of the realm of being able to engage in a relationship that might produce a child. Some of that comes from the thus-far mismatch between me and the jobs I’ve had. I can’t see myself being able to do them indefinitely, hence life is unstable, hence I can’t create a child.

–[ 21 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Jimmy lost my respect by not respecting me, not relating to *me* in our acquaintanceship.

–[ 20 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at pictures of Rebecca in my art space singing, I remember how amazing a person she was. I love many people, I love them and see them in the light of the best that I think they could be, see them as my best hope of who they could be. (Myself?) But Rebecca, at the time, impressed me so much that in my own mind I couldn’t justify being friends anymore with Ashley. There’s of course the competition among past and current and future girlfriends, among themselves and in my mind. But there was something else there: an incredible raising of the bar from which I will never recover. Rebecca was truly that incredible, that all the people I met before and since have paled in comparison. I’m glad for the time and company I had with her, and wish I had more.

I’m not sure I fully expressed this in the last paragraph. Knowing Rebecca, having her in my life, even having known her almost a decade ago, now, and thinking I will never interact with her again, is enough to turn me off to most other people I have met, to cut off contact with them as a reflection of how wonderful a person Rebecca was, and how forgettable everyone else is next to her.

–[ 20 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

People make money selling fingerprint-matching technology to law enforcement. What about making a different type of matching technology: psychological or personality or mode (M.O.) matching, based on behavior.

–[ 20 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

“Are they lovely, or deadly?” These false dichotomies abound. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could do xyz, which we didn’t like (because he did abc, which we liked).

–[ 20 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

So many times in crime stories, what is happening is that people are convicting each other for doing the unexpected. “She wasn’t crying” when I expected that she would…she didn’t seem like a mother in mourning… It really is a crime to be different.

–[ 19 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Write my thoughts on crime: dateline, koresh, sting operations for terror suspects, power imbalance between participants, the continuum of thought to action, the question of where along that scheme we are governing, and that even the purest “thoughts” are actions, because they exist in people who are (even if in other ways) acting in the world.

–[ 19 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I’m laughing more. Vision of how my life could have work in it, instead of the other way round. I could live, then get a job; rather than work being the everything.

–[ 19 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking back to OU, for me it’s primarily a problem of fitting into the world such that I have a life that I can accept. It involves active management of my participation points. It’s not possible through blunt acceptance or whatever comes my way. I might be happier if I could more successfully manage my touchpoints with society, through active participation in that management.

–[ 19 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

It’s partially being at Mom’s house, it’s partially looking at old photos. I was a simpler person back then, like my brain wasn’t fully developed or something. Or my self wasn’t fully developed. Was less fully developed. In a different stage of development. I’ve since become angry with my dad, or allowed myself to feel my anger toward my dad. Back then, I spoke at his wedding with his new wife, and endorsed them genuinely. What changed? Part of it is that I was simpler back then: my requirements for success were simpler, the bar lower. Dad’s with a new woman? She loves him? Ok, that’s enough. I was less judgemental, and that’s a quality I desire. I also asked for less from my dad, I expected less, so I was ok with reality: which was less. It’s like, in some domains, I’ve been expecting a world that’s more, when there is no world that’s more, and that’s made me mad. I didn’t clash with Dad, wasn’t mad with him, back then, because I wasn’t thinking about him really. He came to visit once or twice, we got together to camp on occasion, but that was it, and I didn’t expect it to be anything. Not anything more; I didn’t expect it to be *anything*. I had my own life. It involved work and friends and girls and projects and art and partying, books and programming. I still have parts of those lives. The rates of growth of some of them have expanded, and the rates of growth of others of them have contracted, but I [can] still have them. I have been disillusioned and disheartened in some zones of life and so the world looks different to me now. But simple things are still possible, art, work, love; all are possible. Back then I was on a mission, or I *felt* like I was on a mission. More of my life was framed in relation to having moved out of the house, in relation to being a child. Those were days when having an apartment separate from my family was an event in that light. Now, the past I am most recently departed from, is different.

–[ 18 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I see “Elizabeth Smart” on TV. I want to look up that subject, as I’ve never heard of it before. In my editor/face system, I should be able to enter that into a type of document, from which I can then include text I write, links, and copies of links to related objects.

–[ 18 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I think for some people it never goes anywhere, for some people it goes somewhere then stops, and for some people it keeps going. I’m enjoying thinking about the past, getting in touch with my history, going home. I think it’s part of my process. And I think I’m one of the ones for whom it keeps going.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at a picture of me in the OE (in a purple zebra-stripe shirt with Zochae on the left, IMG_0096 in my latest scans), Dayton seems so different in retrospect. At the time, it was a place to me, a fine place; now it seems *so* provincial, *so* backward, *so* racist, *so* small. I think it has changed, I know I have changed. The times have changed and I have changed. Both are true.

Looking at a picture of Ashley, IMG_0097 of my latest scans, I am reminded of a more innocent time. That is the first girl I had sex with; I’ve come in her mouth a million times; we used to drive to and from Athens and Dayton together, talk about how someday we wanted to be actors and directors and move to LA. We were young and simple then. And a lot’s happened since then. Some of it is stuff that never goes back in the box. Some of it is impermanent; my person, at least, can again enjoy simple fun and simple times; my person, at least, can have wonderful, beautiful moments again.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Just watched the Truman Show.

Find the edge of your life and go beyond it.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at all this old stuff, old art from those days…I think I went a little crazy after Rebecca died. I was opening up before that, but I definitely went a little crazy after she died. I think, at this point, having some time between me and that, and having stopped drinking and drugging, that I could pursure a quite nice life, buy a house, be happy, etc. Not that I won’t still be me: genius, intense, etc., but I think I can be happy now. I’ve actually been thinking of changing my name back, though that’s a little odd since Dad and I have had such trouble. But. I might. It won’t mean I have him in my life, but, I might.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

I think the best may be yet to come for me.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Looking at old pictures while I scan them, even pictures of Holland/Sandow on the beach, Rebecca’s driver’s license picture (smirk–she had a smart-ass bitch streak mixed in there somewhere), I am compelled to forgive everyone. We were all doing all that we could do. My judgements are not needed. I hope this idea can extend into the future, and that I can include myself in the forgiven.

–[ 17 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Dream that I was packing up an old apartment with Rishi, putting everything I was taking with me in piles on a rug. Realized I had sold my copy of Beyond Good and Evil which I wished I had not done. Went outside into the hall leaving the apartment door open, met up with Mom, went into a room where Mom wanted to introduce me to some people, so we could meet about something. We found them but the room was too loud to actually communicate. I took a straw out of someone’s empty drink and sipped the moisture off it, it tasted funny, I could smell gin in the air, I realized I had sipped the tiny bit of alcoholic drink off the straw from someone’s finished gin and tonic. Mom lamented with me, that I had broken my clean time. Then we tracked down the drink the straw had come from. It was just a water with a slice of lime in it. I hadn’t broken my clean time. We left the room and I went down the hall to the elevator. I wanted to go back to my apartment, back to something simple, back to where I used to live. I got in the elevator. Someone else tried to run to get into it in time but he didn’t make it, and there wasn’t a door open button, I couldn’t get my arm in the door in time. I was trying to do down one floor. The elevator stopped between floors. I went for my cell phone, then found a “help” button on the elevator door. The elevator shaft was affixed to the outside of the building. It began to sway as though it was pinned at the top and free to swing at the bottom. Like a pendulum that is gaining in strength rather than waning. I realized that not only was this elevator not going to take me where I wanted to go, it might kill me. I thought: I should pray, in case I die. Then I thought: this is a weird problem to have, maybe I’m in a dream and maybe I can get out of it. So I kindof shook my head, trying to shake my real body if it was somewhere to be shaken, somewhere other than in the elevator, and I woke myself up from the dream.

Talked with Mom about it.

A using dream where I realize in the dream that I did not use.

An analog to my job: something that I wanted to take me from point a to point b, which, not only would it not do that, it wanted to kill me. But which I woke up from, having realized it was a dream–realized it was a conscious mode I did not want to be a part of, and escaped from. That as my latest job, jobs in general, societal systemic life, perhaps using, but likely just my last job–but other pockets of society too.

–[ 15 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Dreams this morning of a design environment that extended my consciousness. Syntax editor, where you enter text in a syntax…there’s no need for error checking once the text is entered, as the editor itself enforces the syntax of a language. An environment that does net-based sharing like Pascal’s SWAG, structured content instead of the freeform web. Forget about everyone else: make a system for myself that is text-based, that extends my consciousness, for reading, creating, messaging, everything. Use it to be able to do things that others can’t. Don’t plan to sell the software. Make it to extend who I am and change what is possible for me. Fluid interleaving of information that I create, and information that is from others. Fluid realtime interleaving of that.

Focus only on process, shunning the product.

When you search, you are searching your stuff, the net’s stuff, it’s all the same stuff.

Do away with [top-level domains].

But…it’s for me, it’s for me…make what I want for my world, to change my world, what I want my world to be like. That is the prime directive.

Automatic compiling…the editor enforces syntax, so the thing can compile any time it wants.

What screen does but better, simpler. Alt-arrow for screen switching, arrow for movement within a screen? One screen only? I think one screen only.

Center essential information on the screen, use periphery for supplemental information?

Eliminate use of the enter key as a confirmation, or the space key as a separator? Use tab to switch between the input and output panes? Somehow integrate input and output so that I can be creating something, looking at news or email, and looking at output from the thing I’m creating all at the same time, in an organic way, fluidly. Input and output from multiple sources at the same time, without switching panes?

Imagine if there were modes happening for you, like if at any given time you were able to input to various sources, and that input was chosen for you. Then you wouldn’t have to choose what you were inputting to…you would input to whatever the current mode was, and that mode could be chosen and patterned based on what you do. Might be frustrating to not be in control, but it’s an idea.

Maybe the escape key takes you from your current mode, into another mode. So if you have four different things going on at once on the screen, escape takes you out of the active one and into another one, in terms of input mode, and perhaps in terms of focus. So you might have your creation pane, your messaging/news pane, and your output-from-the-thing-you’re-creating pane, and escape would cause different ones to come into focus. And escape, once by itself would always take you to the last pane, whereas several escapes in a row would go to the last one selected, then to the others, in order of how often you’ve switched to them recently, descending.

Maybe 9 panes, in a tic-tac-toe-ish grid except with the center/middle cell being larger than the others. You could use 1-9 keys to random-access-ly switch between them.


aa xxxxx cc
aa yyyyy cc <– could use alt-arrow[-arrow] with just two arrows to get from current screen to any other screen
ba yyyyy dd <– seven panes
ba zzzzz dd

aa xxxxx bb
aa xxxxx bb
aa xxxxx bb
aa xxxxx bb

Screen system, face, should be usable for any task I want to engage in.

Extend consciousness. Nothing less. Extend my consciousness.

A way for me to create things. A way for me to communicate [read/write] others.

Maybe no panes. Maybe a sentence-tree-like matrix.


Things I remember. Information I’ve stored. Information other people have stored. Semantically-linked.

Everything has an id, and/or a name. Every thing has a type. So in the middle of some text can be some c code, a link to a c code node, and I can use that c code node anywhere just by referring to its name or id.

No such thing as files, to the user. Names, tags, text, but no files. A semantic web.

When you program, you’ll only look at little snippets at a time, the size of functions, structs, or enums. And you’ll navigate the semantic web of code. Somehow do the same thing with other types of content…news/messaging, journaling, whatever.

Left/right scroll through syntax, up/down go to containing/contained objects?

Ctl-S searches?

When you use escape to switch modes, it does a neat text-transition trick. Animates the change.


:That could be cool, because the applications would know what size window they were in, and in big-mode, they would present themselves in the center/middle as a semantic web, whereas in small mode, they might take up more of the space, left-to-right, of the window, and the “a” and “c” windows would form a sort of border for the “b” window. I like that; it’s simple.

There aren’t three places for possible programs. There are three programs. Three programs for interacting with the whole world. (?) Is it possible?

A program for creating things (syn, the syntactic editor), a program for receiving news from the outside world (news, stocks, email, sensory information of any kind), and a program for viewing the output of the thing you’re creating? … or, a program for communicating *to* the outside world (isn’t this part of creating things?)

Making things, looking at what you made, and seeing what others made.

Maybe they have fixed positions in the panes? I don’t think so, but I wanted to consider it.


Creating things that make output, viewing the output of the thing you’re creating, viewing the output of anything anyone’s created (including you).

How do you respond to what other people created? How does a chat-type conversation fit into this? I’m not going to speak into the syn window and view output of the other person in another window, am I? Maybe. Maybe *everything* I create, I create in that window. The news/world window is my application, I can decide how it works…maybe it’s one big chat window, with all input from — scratch that. It’s a semantic web window, too, like the creation window…it can have branches off from people’s names to little areas of private chat, or branches that represent a public dialoge or a group one, or a response to some blobal news item. Use networks of trust here. CNN may be a node in the tree, so may a friend of mine. I’ll be able to respond to a CNN news item just as I would a question from a friend in a one-to-one chat.
press enter], then it goes away, and I’m viewing the output of the domain in question. When I press a key there, then instead of just viewing output being tacked onto the end of the event stream, I have an input area to do my input. In the case of a program, same thing. Shell and editor are now facets of the same thing. Output is tacked onto the window. When I press a key, an area is created (or pops up) at the bottom of the programming history window that is an editor, a syntax-aware way to navigate through all the code and edit it. When I run the program, my input (the dynamic editor area) goes away, perhaps contributing something permanent to the overall history/log/output area, perhaps not, and then the output of the program goes along, contributing to the output history/log of the programming script/log/history thing. Does this mean that programs themselves do not accept user input? The program, if it needed user input, could open a syntax-aware editor, or accept input if it liked, in normal ways! But I think in general I don’t want to create programs that accept user input…except the overall interface I am describing here. Is that right? What if I want to continue developing this interface, using this interface?

I’m basically building servers and shit like that, but I need to be able for programs to do whatever kind of input they want to do without knowing they’re running in this interface. Am I going to be able to route their input and output to/from them from within this interface? What if I want to kill a process or send some other signal to a process? This thing is going to compile programs in the background and run programs via its interface…how are they going to run? I suppose I can do whatever shells do to direct input and output, right? Hijack their standard in and standard out files?

aaaaa <– output area (shell output)
bbbbb <– input area (syntactically-aware ide)

aaaaa <– output area
bbbbb <– input area

It’s like a folding editor that rocks! What folds out is a shell, or alternatively a syntactically-aware ide.

You select nodes in the web with arrow keys, possibly control-key modified arrow keys. Just moving to the node places it prominently and rearranges other nodes on the screen. Pressing enter on the node, or starting to type with the node selected, opens up an input area on the node. How much of the node area the input portion takes up is dependent on the node type. There are only a few node types…or there is only one. Is all output essentially the same and all output essentially the same?

An app that executes in this framework is going to be a set of functions that this thing calls…they should be loaded dynamically so that the interface itself can be used to develop itself, and after a certain point, without restarting the interface.

You can open a window at any point in the web. When you open a window, it is connected to the window you currently have open. So you create a web of windows. It can be tiny, it can be huge. You open and close windows in the web. Then when you use alt-arrow you navigate around the windows. And what is actually displayed on the screen when a window is selected is automatic. It is based on where you have been making input and what you have been selecting.

Maybe there’s a key sequence to create a window and a sequence to destroy a window, and a key for switching between windows (escape). And there’s no actual web between windows, we just display as many as we can, in various sizes based on what you seem to be focused on.

Maybe there are layouts for if you have 1 window open, 2 windows open, 3, etc. And we always show them all, I like that because there’s never anything hidden, and if you opened a window you had a reason, and if you don’t need it cluttering up your screen, you close it. Then there’s a maximum number of windows…7 probably…maybe 9.




Maybe it’s just 1, 2, or 3.





Holding alt brings up a center-screen overlay that shows a 2d grid of the input channel names. Alt switches to the last input channel. Alt+arrows goes to any input channel.

The whole screen is a script: down-scrolling, with input always topmost (when visible), output below it, a blog-style script (old stuff at the bottom, new stuff at the top).

You always see all output from all channels/programs. You always have one input method, which is a syntactical edit in some mode. Each program/channel specifies an input mode, and provides hooks that do the input and output, which face calls.

The control key is used within output or input, to do things, like search, rename, etc.

There should be a way to search within a certain channel, or search in all channels: search for things in code, in shell history, in news/chat history, etc. And exchange text between all of them.

A program is input and output. So you can make programs for this that search databases, essentially do an analog to web searches…

Input windows can be of different sizes, and dynamic sizes: they should start out small, in the case of a shell input, and grow as the input grows. The same may be true with editing-type inputs: they might start out as 1/3 of the screen, and grow to 2/3 as editing continues.

Maybe that channel-switching overlay should be at the top of the screen, or 1/3 of the way down from the top of the screen. Where is the input focused?

It could be in the very middle, with things scrolling both up and down around it. Or it could be at the top.

It could jump around the screen, but I want to use screen space efficiently and I’m not sure how multiple windows does that.

ooooooooo <– most recent output

ooooooooo <– most recent output

ooooooooo <– most recent output

When you’re doing input, a solid horizontal row, reversed text colors, between the input and the output, tells you the input channel/program, and its mode.

Output automatically has channel/program name, and timestamp, displayed?

How do you navigate the output, to, say, select some text? Maybe it’s a type of input? Like there’s a syntactical editor mode for output? Where you can’t change things, but you can search, select, save, copy, etc.? And within that output mode is a way to search just one channel, or all channels, etc. So you don’t navigate output in the active output pane, you do so in a syntactical edit mode for output, in the creation pane. So there’s a manipulation pane, and a news pane, essentially: a place to alter/create/search, and a place for history/log/script. History.

What is the keystroke to kill, or the keystroke to create, a new program/channel?

What about automatically-created channel options? Like if someone wants to start a chat with you? The basic system could notify you of that in the script window. … Maybe there’s no such thing as that…maybe it’s that a particular program/channel that you’re running (chat) can take a message and suggest in the script window that someone new wants to talk with you, then there’s a command you can give the chat channel/program that allows or denys the request, which may create a separate channel, if it’s a private chat, or allow the person into the current chat-type channel.

Every program takes packages of input and does something with them. The editing program can allow for multiple users (collaboration) just like the chat program would. So allow/deny participation, or whatever participation controls there are, can be the same for all types of programs, so there can be implicit collaboration on program-building activities as well. The output of the editor may be information about who has done what to the text being edited there…just like, in a way, a chat output is output of what people have done to the chat text (by showing exactly what they typed). In the editor case, it might summarize their changes with a log message, or it might automatically generate messages that show who changed what, without the developer/writer having to make a log message. Of course I like this last better.

Every content item has a uuid. Every atom has a uuid, every text, every news item, every document, every programming element (function, etc.). Items can be referred to by other items, in syntax.

I don’t want to have to deal with version control, or versions. I want seamlessly integrated presence. Presentness.

Each object has an author list. Each type of object may work with authors in different ways. In a text object, the object might incorporate the changes of each author. In a chat object, the object might tack on the additions of each author. In a c document, the object might store who changed what. But I don’t think so, I don’t think I need that kind of history. I just need the access control of who can write to certain documents. Who can read and who can write to each object. That allows chat, news, text, code.

Object. Object type (syntax). Person. Access control list (read/write lists of people). Program (input/output methods). The interface (face), which contains programs, and one editor.

[input ]
[input ]
[program bar —————————- ]
[program] [output ] [timestamp]
[program] [output ] [timestamp]
[program] [output ] [timestamp]

And: the program launcher is a program, with an editor mode. So it fits into the framework of the rest of the system. You switch to it, and use its input mode to start/stop programs. Or there is no program launcher; it’s a fixed set of programs. No. I will develop new programs and want various sets of them up at once. I think the program launcher is part of face, though, not it’s own program.

I can send a function, or a text, or a document, to a person. That’s all part of the communication program. I can refer to a document by name, and include it as a link or as a copy. I can do this anywhere. The recipient has access to this as part of their history/log/script.

editor controls
Control-v includes a link to an object.
Control-shift-v pastes the contents of the copied object.
Control-c copies a reference to the current object.
Control-x searches.
Control-z deletes. It is the same as the delete or backspace key. Delete and backspace are the same as each other.
Left/right arrow keys move through the syntax tree of the object. From token to token in c, from word to word in text, from word to word in talk, from item to item in log/history. It’s variable-speed: if you press it, it goes by one token; if you hold it down, it goes through one token per second for the first second, then two tokens per second for the second second, then four tokens per second for the third second, then eight tokens per second for the fourth second, etc. Control-w/a/s/d is the same as the arrow keys.
Up arrow goes deeper into the current object. On an object in the log, it opens the object and now you are exploring the objects in that object’s syntax tree. On a function call, it opens the function object and now you are exploring the function. The up arrow, on any object link, opens the object and now you are editing that object. (An object has a way of displaying itself when folded, and when unfolded, like a function name/function definition.) It highlights the token, and the highlit token is the one you are editing. A word is highlit, you edit that word. Tokens/objects automatically form new and go away as you type…like, in a text document, entering a space or a comma starts a new token, pressing the delete or backspace key can destroy a token.
The down arrow goes back to the object you came from when you pressed the up arrow, if there was one.
Enter does different things based on the mode. In chat, this sends the object. In programming, ?. In text, ?.

So, in text, up/down will switch between documents, sections, paragraphs, sentences, and words. You can press down to zoom out to sentence-level. Then the left/right keys go from sentence to sentence. Down again switches to paragraph mode. Then left and right goes from paragraph to paragraph. Select the paragraph you want, then press up, then left and right for the sentence you want, then up, then left and right to change words. !! It highlights the selected syntactical item as you navigate through, to show what you’re changing. If you start typing, it replaces the selection with what you type. You should be able to copy and paste text, as well as links to objects and copies of objects…(perhaps)…but it needs to be clear what is happening when you do these things. Like in a text document I should be able to use scope arrows (up/down) to get to paragraph level, then copy a paragraph, then paste a copy of it or paste a link to it.

In c mode, you’re doing a similar thing with functions, statements, tokens.

If someone includes a link to a program object in a message to me, I can, when reading the message (where? in my log program? (isn’t that a little clunky?)), use the up arrow key to navigate into the program.

Maybe it’s all just an editor as described above, of dynamic syntactic documents, that I have tabs, essentially, to navigate through them with, and there’s a little update area that tells me what new things have just happened with my documents. So no matter where I am, I see that a headline has been added to CNN, a new email has arrived, and that someone has updated the ih_create_system() function. I can put a specific view/point into the whole document/object tree into a [tab], and in each navigation tab I can navigate the sytnax tree independently.

face controls
Alt switches to the last program.
Alt-[arrows] navigates to another program.
The alt-[arrows] menu has a “+” item. When selected, it becomes a menu for starting a new program.
Escape closes a program.

Programs: talk, make.

Four tabs: Alt-[arrow] goes to one of the four?

Alt-[number 0-9] goes to one of the panes?

There’s no such thing as programs. Just documents. Referred to by name.

So when a document update happens on any document I have open, which is not the document I am viewing, that information appears in my top bar, a one-line status bar showing me what’s going on elsewhere…or it appears in the bottom bar, a variable-sized area on the bottom of the screen, but, a readonly area no matter what. Perhaps it’s on the bottom, variably-sized based on the number and frequency of updates. And it notifies you of changes to documents that you have open but which are not currently visible. I like that. It is very simple. And I do think it should be on the bottom, and should size itself automatically, and may be 0-height when there is nothing recent going on.

And when you’re viewing a document, it updates dynamically, so if you’re doing development, or in a communication document, it automatically updates while you’re looking at it when someone else changes it. And each type of document has methods for how authors change it (chat/c/text and so forth).

On the updates/news window, show the pane # where the updated document was?

9talk samantha: ok, then, wow, let’s go
4comm cnn: bubble boy pops bubble

Control-space like Emacs to start selection?

–[ 15 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

The best thing I can do for anyone, everyone, is to make my life wonderful.

–[ 13 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Suzanne recalls an art teacher suggesting the kids in the class not press hard on the paper until they got the bigger picture sketched out in light strokes…she and I consider doing that with our lives.

–[ 11 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Worked on site and have every reason to feel happy. What I’ve done, and what I may do, there, is wonderful. Am going to walk outside and enjoy the day and my success.

–[ 10 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

Applied for a job doing server development for a cloud media company. If I find a job I want one where I can maintain my self while I do it. It needs to have the human aspect intact: people treating each other well. I don’t want to be buddy buddy with my coworkers. I want to maintain distinction, do interesting work, and work with people who have the emotional maturity to collaborate with me.

–[ 10 october 2009 ]———————————————————-

In the protected care of Mom…moving to the protected care of Zha.

–[ 9 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Be the star of your own life. Advice from Joey to Mom, years ago, Mom says he asked her, at Bagel Lovers in Dayton, “You’re not the star of your own life, are you?” And she says that that precipitated much of what was to come.

Am I the star of my own life?

–[ 3 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Michael speaks about third step stuff being for him : aligning his will with the will of the universe. That recovery is a process of, instead of going against the flow of the universe, going with the flow of the universe. And that sometimes the only way to know what goes with the flow is trial and error.

I can release myself to make mistakes…or rather, to make moves the outcome of which I do not know.

–[ 2 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Spoke with Tom after a meeting. Told him I might move to New York. He reminded me that NA is a world-wide fellowship. We talked more. He said he supports Zha in whatever I’m doing. He reminded me that the power that’s kept me clean for 90 days will be there to help me in my travels and next steps. He encouraged me to see that I don’t have to go with my first impulse…this after I indicated I wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing/wanted to do.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

I just had one of those comfort-needing moments and drinking flashed into my mind but ever-so-quickly I asked myself if I really wanted to be drunk right now and the answer is no. I’m hungry. That I will address. But I do not even want to drink.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Called my sponsor. He reminded me that by staying clean today I am *giving myself a chance*.

Perhaps nothing more. But I have a chance. With this move, with my job/living situations changing so much, imagine if I was drinking or using at the same time. I have a chance to be able to deal with it; I may not be able to deal with it, but I have a chance.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Also, Peter acknowledged my business development discontent by stating to me that he’s unhappy with what Stacy, Rob, and Jody have/haven’t done in terms of creating opportunities. I appreciated that he did that. And he agreed with/confirmed what I said in a note to him today, which is that I did what he’s asked of me; that felt good, for him to say that he agrees I’ve done my job. And I acknowledged that it’s not just our company, that times are hard for the country and the world; it was healing for me to have that conversation with him.

Standing on my balcony, I can already feel the cool wind of Tucson winter. I do love this place.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

Talked with Peter on the phone. Got some closure (for now). We were friendly, sincerely, from both sides. They’ve lost the rest of the Army funding, he says, and may have to lay off more people. I feel empathy for that guy. He said he hopes he can bring me back on board someday. We’ll see. And we said we’d talk again in the future. But at least we’re on a good note, and I feel more like it’s a *we* thing, a *we’re in it together* thing, than before. He said he feels like he’s living from paycheck to paycheck; after that call I feel more like we’re human beings in roughly the same boat as opposed to enemies.

I think I will go to Mom’s now.

Would I stay in Tucson if I didn’t have this apartment?

I think I want to seek out a place where there’s more of an economy than here.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

I don’t have to worry about it through; I don’t have to project. I am in this moment.

–[ 1 october 2009 ]———————————————————–

I can’t pay rent today; I’m not sure I have enough cash to drive to Mom’s house. =) I could stay in Tucson and try to find a job here…if I found one in the next couple of months I might be able to keep this apartment. Or I could go to Mom’s, or go to New York city and sell my car when I get there; or sell it before I go, and ride the train to New York. I could stay in this apartment as long as I can before they evict me (might be able to stay 2-3 months?), living on $20 a week for food, and I could do programming in that time, make as much progress as possible on inhesion here before I’m forced to…what? I think running out of money as I arrive at Mom’s house is better than running out of money in Tucson (?) Not sure. I don’t want to get stressed about it, so I’m writing about it.

My internal reaction to Beth’s leaving-Tucson message is telling: for me, something about her leaving Tucson makes it ok for me to leave. It’s simply that she’s created an example of someone leaving, and when I think of her leaving I don’t judge it, I think she was here when she wanted to be/could be/needed to be and that she left when it was time. It’s ok for her to do that, and why would I judge myself for leaving when I needed to?

I applied for California unemployment…they said they’d mail me the info within 10 days…am I going to be here in 10 days? Will they give me unemployment?

I wish I hadn’t paid rent last month…then I would have $775 more that I could use to make my transition to my next city/job! The bank charged me $100-something dollars for a fee related to the garnishment…so not only am I paying the IRS even more money than they’ve already taken from me, but I have to pay the bank, for some reason, for allowing them/helping them to take my money.

I don’t want Dad to find out that I moved in with Mom and then judge me. It’s not a major thought, it’s a thought though.

Also, I’m tired. Right now, I don’t want to think about getting in the car for a long trip. I want to eat chicken nachos from Chili’s and watch a movie at home, but I can’t afford it if I want to be able to drive to Mom’s. I guess I could sell my iMac and my TV and my PS3 and my computer monitor and then take the train to the east coast. Not sure yet. Don’t want to get stuck in Tucson without a job. Tired.

–[ 30 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Got mail from Pedram saying “yes, yes, yes” (he’s in, for working on inhesion). Excited, imagining a five person company this year, never being more than twenty five people, treating each other well, being paid well. Mom says make it fun, even while it’s not making money, even if it never makes money, approach it as fun, a fun project, and she says she’ll do the company Sabbath planning: to celebrate what we’ve done, to make it wonderful. I think this could be not business, but beauty. And I think it wouldn’t take much to go from where I am to a company the size of a Softronics or a Pragmatic or an Alexander Interactive. Some connections, a product, a couple of sales, I think a lot could happen between now and Christmas. Get Steven’s brother’s trading company to use inhesion in their strategies, create an imbalance where a SIG or a D.E. Shaw or an EWT suddenly needs my products to be competitive. Be the Larry Ellison…making a product that other people will need to make their products…be a business behind the businesses. And I focus on product development, be creative, and make things wonderful. Just make amazing things, get wonderful people together to enjoy changing the world.

And Mom frames my Pragmatic experience thus: indispensible experience, priceless education. And I remember that most of learning what to do is learning what not to do…and that is not something you can pull out of a hat. To know what not to do, you have to do a whole bunch of things wrong. Never trust someone for whom things have gone too smoothly.

–[ 29 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Watching the Young and the Restless on TV and there’s a girl in a hospital bed in a coma from partial drowning and they’re doing organ donation from her.

I’m remembering sitting with Rebecca in the hospital, talking to her while she was in her coma, saying our favorite phrases in her ear hoping that would wake her up.

–[ 29 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Driving with Mom through the country I was very in the moment.

And even a little thinking how great things are, and how great they may be from the point of view of some future moment.

I put up today.

–[ 29 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Mom said earlier today that one of the most important things she’s learned is that, as I’m saying it, you can stop your day at any time, at any point…I can decide that I’m done working, done worrying, that it’s time to totally relax into watching a movie, leave work, stop worrying, or whatever.

–[ 29 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Mom encouraged me, reflecting on things I’ve suggested, saying she thinks I’m at the perfect age and place in life to start a company.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Like going to school…Mom suggests…and she’s right…only go to school if I want to go to school, not because I think it’s going to get me someplace.

Same with work and love and everything.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

And, after the meeting tonight, walked out into an autumn night with NA smokers, Nicole and her sponsor and others, Nicole’s sponsor with a single Camel light of some sort, and it smelled so good, I wanted to smoke, to smoke with them, to be with them in nostalgic melancholy ways of feeling. But went home. Wasn’t with the strength to say goodbye, just left, and eventually the desire to smoke and even the melancholy has simmered.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Got lost driving with Mom today but we ended up at a beautiful diner and had a cheesesteak. The metaphor is that it’s not necessary to know what life’s journey will be before it happens, but that you might end up someplace beautiful all the same.

I want to remember that, and live by it. I don’t need to know what might happen in the future, I don’t need to concern myself with it, I don’t need to know the path, I need to walk the path (only). Walk the path, don’t worry about knowing the path :: know that it is not required that I know the path…and knowing the path is not a necessary condition for the path leading to someplace beautiful. I worry that I need to plan my life correctly so that I can ensure that the end is something proper, something ok. But I don’t. I can trust that the path can end up somewhere wonderful without my knowing it beforehand. As I’ve said to people at times, I need to remember: that no one knows what’s going to happen next…the only difference between people in that regard is that some people think they do (know what’s going to happen next). I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and planning doesn’t change that…if I plan well, that will not make it so that I know that my life will go according to plan. So dispense with the planning, and the knowing. Just walk, one step at a time. And one step at a time means look at the current node, and the nodes connected directly to it via one link. Concern yourself with those nodes…definitely not the nodes two links away–because once you go to the next node, its connected nodes will be determined *then*. They are not determined now, they cannot be predicted now, modeled now, planned for now, approached from here, they don’t exist except in theories. Look at the current node and nodes connected to it by one link; deal with that, and that only.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

I did pick up my 90 day tag today. Looking at it on my keychain the number seems foreign: I like the red, but 90 days seems like nothing…just 9 10 day periods. I liked the green one, and had gotten used to it and loved it. But I like this one better already, and I look forward to it being my keychain for the next 3 months…or if I like it more than the blue, for longer.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Went to I Can’t, We Can meeting. Nicole (I think) told her story, focused on the first step. I could relate. She did coke off her desk in religion class. Slept in her car. Wondered, in a psych ward, whether she needed to spend the rest of her life in a rubber room, then realized she was only schizo on speed. The overlap, and that she is a pretty girl, and her sponsor likewise, made me melancholy as hell; the cool autumn air and halloween feeling is part of my feelings too. I think the only response to this is to write a story that evokes the longing, emptiness, and melancholy I feel…to express it through my work…I think that’s the best I can do with these feelings, this situation.

–[ 28 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

It didn’t last long, but this morning when I first woke up I thought: my life could be ok, it’s not that bad, it doesn’t have to be cast in badness…I owe some money to the IRS, I owe some other money, my credit is fucked…but, if I can get a job that actually pays me a decent salary, I can fix all that…I really can…that stuff can be fixed, can be fixed by me…and things can be ok in my life.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Write a brief biography of myself…how I want my life to go, acknowledging the pros and cons of what has happened so far (use that to describe my roots), and extend from there to describe where I want to go, and who I want to become.

That would be a good exercise for me at this time in my life.

Do it like a news journalist on CNN would say my intro, when I’m being chronicled at 50.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Saw Nicole S. on a Pussycat Dolls video with Mom. Thinking of how life diverges and changes do happen. She’s been at my apartment, for my parties, and now she’s a pop star. I’ve walked around Wright State University, loved Rebecca, done various things, and my present is form to some shadow of my past as well, as with all of us. It’s crazy to think about.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Panic attacks like I should preserve myself by never speaking to anyone ordinary again.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Watched 50 First Dates with Mom. Loved the ending. Now having nostalgia/panic attacks.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Thinking seriously about putting together some presentation of inhesion capabilities and presenting them to create partnerships…even/especially along the lines that Peter is pursuing…getting those types of military, educational, or commercial partnerships might be within my grasp…inference tools, adaptivity tools, assessment tools…assessment tools…fuck me…do I think that’s something sellable, something I can do better than Pragmatic? The second part is definitely true!

Put together headers, libraries, documentation, and materials for what inhesion does, put it on my website, refuse to work for anyone else, and make dohpe shit, and promote it to people.

–[ 27 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Haven’t called Ashley in days. It’s intentional. I love her but I’m reminded of wanting to grow apart from her about ten years ago, the year after we broke up. Our friendship has been fine, even good at points, but mostly it’s nostalgia and each of us holding onto the past, which I’m done doing.

–[ 26 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

(craigslist nyc) “Looking for a dishwasher to start immediately. Job entails 6 days a week, $100 per shift. 2 of the shifts are overnight.” Holy shit, I can make more washing dishes than writing software at Pragmatic.

–[ 26 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

I’m not bad; I didn’t mess up Pragmatic. It is the way it is, and I don’t like it. I didn’t get fired; I quit. That’s not a statement about me doing anything wrong. I’ve worked at six software jobs, and I quit six software jobs. That’s not a statement of anything bad about me or anything I did wrong. I have found those situations unsuitable, unacceptable. It’s my task to design/find a life that works well for me…but: that those companies aren’t to my taste doesn’t mean anything bad about me.

–[ 25 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Ideas that maybe I feel undeserving of having another Rebecca, undeserving of being wealthy, unable to be the adult, because of experiences of loss and letdown in my past (with Rebecca, with Dad, …) that if I can process and understand and move with and beyond, that I can–I don’t know–move into a phase of life that I enjoy more? That is better/fuller? I can’t see what that would be like but I imagine there might be a better set of moments out there.

–[ 25 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Remembering a night when my girlfriend comes over to do laundry and ecstasy, and she never wears those clothes again. Mom reminding me that that is probably the worst thing that will ever happen in my life…and reminding me that she told me that at the time…I was like, yeah, I know hard things happen to people and she was like, no this isn’t the type of thing that usually happens, this is horrible and unusual…point being that most people never experience something like that, and it’s not likely that that horror will visit me again. Except that I’ve started to create my own horror, and some of it has been truly nightmarish, but, I don’t have to do that. I can pretty much decide not to have a horrific life.

–[ 25 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Mom reminding me that the doctor said if it hadn’t happened to Rebecca that night that it would have happened anyway, that she was fortunate to be with me when it did. Maybe I can accept I was her guide in passing. We were soul mates, we were fortunate to find each other, to meet among this whole world of chaos, we were like two who had come from one and been separated, who then found each other in the mess of everything. And I did help her pass; I was with her at the end of her life, giving her company, receiving hers; we had a truly spiritual connection, and were both lucky to have found each other.

Admitting to Mom that I daily obsess with thoughts of death.

But I feel freed, too; clearing out Pragmatic and all its shit, clearing out alcohol, clearing out some memories from the past. I’m gonna move forward. And it’s gonna be unencumbered.

–[ 25 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Don’t cheat myself out of possible futures with skepticism. It may be that it’s not until I’m 40 that I do something of value, and that that value is great! Do not worry about things too much.

–[ 24 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

“It’s worth mentioning that nearly all of the truly great writers in the world have been INFPs.”

“INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don’t give themselves enough credit. INFPs may have problems working on a project in a group, because their standards are likely to be higher than other members’ of the group. In group situations, they may have a “control” problem. The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living. Without resolving this conflict, they will never be happy with themselves, and they may become confused and paralyzed about what to do with their lives.”

–[ 24 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

I can put together my own company, even if to seek investors, a portfolio of technology that people would invest in. Like Peter almost did with Tim Crown…if I want, I could try to sell some potential to an investor. Or like John Mitzka and I were doing around 2000…I might be able to attract startup money and partnership by creating a business plan, etc. That’s aside from doing things completely on my own…it might be great to create a business with someone else.

–[ 23 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

If you pray for rain, carry an umbrella. I’m preparing for failure, for doom, instead of success, I need to rely on belief and then maybe I can salvage my life.

–[ 23 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Remember, every day: don’t quit Pragmatic before I don’t need the money!

*Use them* to get me into a better place.

I hate that in order to survive–not even succeed, but survive–I feel like I need to compromise my values.

It makes me hate the world, and want to kill myself.

I don’t want to die, though; I want the chance to enjoy life.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

The best way for me to express myself is through my work.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Am I insane? I send an email to Peter updating my estimate on when I will get some piece of work done for him (earlier than expected), and then sit and worry that Peter will fire me between now and when I give him the work…constantly worry that things are ending. I want them to change, I think myself that they are over, but I don’t think I’m clear on what part is me wanting to quit and me fearing Peter will fire me. Maybe he’s trying to get me to quit. Maybe I’m trying to get him to fire me. He might run out of money and have to let me go even if he doesn’t want to. It’s too much to think about, I can’t take it. It’s unknown, it’s totally unknown, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

And, looking at my work, I sometimes see it’s good, and that it makes sense that I should be doing it, perhaps even doing it for Pragmatic makes sense. But sometimes I don’t see that, and I worry. I don’t want to mess up a good thing before it gets better, but I also don’t want to delude myself that something is a good thing when it’s really not.

Sometimes I feel like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. I don’t want to, and I don’t know how I would do that if I did, but I don’t know how not to. Everything seems to be messed up.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

The idea from Adaptation, or from The Orchid Thief, of whittling the world down. Become an orchid hunter in this life. See the world from a single chair.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Alice in Wonderland fan fiction, a novel featuring Alice Liddel, sort of in the stories and sort of in her life, rich description.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

“The sun will come out tomorrow.” Watching Annie with Mom. Excellent. I recommended it. Keep some Annie energy with me at all times.

Set up with cor3 search, and post on craigslist for a partner to help me sell inhesion stuff. Make inhesion by Christmas, be in St. Martin, like Daddy Warbucks, I can go from my current financial situation to a different, better, wonderful one. I will do it by leaving old ways behind. Get used to change, and do it, do change, say goodbye to the old and say hello to the new. If I can start my day over at any time, then I can start my life over at any time. Past performance is not an indicator of future gains. The way life went for me yesterday is not the way life must go for me tomorrow.

–[ 22 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

I miss being in Westlake, going to work for half a day, then going to Zin, drinking all day and hanging with Angelicaford, Tiffany, and crew. It’s odd that in a way work was going better back then.

–[ 21 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Tucson, Tucson, Tucson…I don’t want to be around hicks. The NA people are fine, I love them, but there’s something about me that wants to be with people who are doing something more. I may need to set aside the idea there’s a perfect place for me to live…LA is great but showy, New York is great but self-centered and exclusive. I don’t know how to meet people in New York or LA…I can meet people in a place like Tucson, but work-wise, I’m flailing. Actually the thought that got me started on this is simply: I like the NA meeting I went to near Bowmanstown last week (I Can’t, We Can) because the people felt more familiar to me…they had somewhat less destitute pasts than the Tucson NA people I’ve been meeting on the whole. It’s not judgement of the Tucson people, it’s that I don’t want that part of some of their influence on me. Danny is fine, and I love him in a human sense, but I don’t want his view to paint part of my picture of life…I want my life to be about self-actualization at this stage. I don’t need to wallow in basic recovery forever…it might be useful for me to go to NA meetings as part of my life, but even with three months of separation from drinking/using, I have presence to go on to other things (too). I was in Liberia for a month as a child. That was a hugely impactful experience, an epic trip. I’ve been clean/sober for three months now; let me consider the impact of that time, the significance of that time. I want to extend it, but the fact is I have come a long long way already.

Keeping journal writing as part of my daily life is a key thing to continue.

I want to get a job that pays my bills and affords me a complete material life.

Real companionship, with both with men and women, will richen me.

I can save money, I can move gracefully, I can change and grow into the next
stages of me. I have some feeling of change…desire to move to a new job, new place, and it doesn’t need to be a secret from everyone but it is/will be an individual act, my own act. And it may not involve leaving Tucson, but it may. Remember that my life is about me.

–[ 20 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Feeling bad because I was part of buying a TV with Mom, part of the decision process, and the TV has a defect. No big deal…we can replace the TV tomorrow and all should be fine, but I’m beating myself up about it.

Upset a bit about talk with Ashley earlier, her telling me about her trips to bars, and drinking…it’s not something I need to be mad at her about, it’s just annoying, and something I don’t want to hear about!

–[ 20 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Imagine myself in a longterm romantic future…like…if I decide, I can, between now and when I’m 40 or 45, become a therapist and move to London, then at that point I’ll be a practicing therapist in London.

–[ 20 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Remember that there is a difference between Camp Icthus and Camp Lebanon.

–[ 19 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Be radical. Not just progressive, not just next-generation, be post-generational. Don’t make stuff that’s cool. Make stuff that’s impossible.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Listening to Mom show Suzanne Farm Town…the only thing wrong is that I should have made the game they’re playing.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Consider moving to London.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Consider Antioch.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Life, work should be more like the science fair, more like school where you wake up and someone gives you the challenge to make a contraption that helps an egg survive a drop from a five story building (etc.). Why isn’t work like that? With well-defined competitions that attempt to reward skill…instead of corporate/family bullshit where what matters and what is rewarded is politicking, not accomplishment at all.

And Suzanne mentions that in science fair you at least know that you can pick a project, spend time developing it, and that it will be shown. And, I mention that when you present, each person’s project gets the same sized display, and each project will be looked at. In work, similar guarantees are not in place…so much of my work experience has been that it is not about the work, which is disheartening.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Don’t dread the future. What happens next will be good for me. Regardless of its unknown quality, the future will benefit me, I will enjoy it, it will be good.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

I could slowly peacefully recover, pay my debts sanely, emmigrate to England, live a wonderful life. I can do anything. If I could reconstruct my life, how would I make it?

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Like, I might be able to quietly, slowly create a market trading company. Take three years, five, one, take time, go easy.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Being at Mom’s house, there comes on a sense of ok-ness, a sense that I could actually master my own life if I wanted to…like, I could do whatever…go to school, find another job, manage my money…things could be ok. I think I have not enough internalized the sense of good parent behavior in myself, I need to more carry around internally a parent who believes I am and will be ok, who encourages me, who loves me. Life would be better if I did that.

–[ 18 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Dream that someone washed my monitor and got it spicking clean, but then I realized it had soap suds on it…they had put it in the dishwasher. Sentiment was that it might be broken, but it might not, and it was nice of the person to want to get the monitor so clean…which they had, it was immaculate aside from the suds.

Dream that I was going away on a trip and my girlfriend was going to miss me. Lived in a town where I lived on a 3rd floor apartment in an urban house and rode a bicycle. G/f was blond, relationship was simple.

–[ 17 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Fact integration technology, like what we were saying Samantha (Mom’s GPS) should do…you’re driving and the thing tells you about historical figures that lived in this place, spouts Wikipedia information related to the area or blog posts from the teenager who lives in the upstairs room of the house you’re driving by. Technology that would gather information from multiple sources for you, automatically.

–[ 17 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

With my fear that I will be completely like Dad, I can relax a little: I’m sitting in the car with Mom and Suzanne and I’m here because I chose to be…I came across the country to spend time with Mom and now Suzanne, and even in that, I’m not Dad: I don’t focus so much on work that I never pay attention to people. And I’m relieved to see that.

–[ 17 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Academic thought is descriptive rather than constructive. We can use the metaphors of academic dramatic thought to ask “Who is the antagnoist in the Woody Allen movie Manhattan?” and if we have to ask that question the best answer is that the protagonist is his own antagonist, but that question isn’t the best question to ask about that movie. Models that say a story has an antagonist are descriptive, they talk talk about what has happened, what tends to happen, rather than being most relevant when in the process of making something. You think of an idea for a movie, you make it, it might be something people like to watch…that doesn’t mean it has an antagonist, really. The thinking about antagonists can be used when creating, and creations made with awareness of the description of the creation have a special flavor, but it is not necessary to do that descriptive thinking while doing the creative thinking (I want to make a movie about blah blah blah), and the two are certainly distinct.

–[ 16 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Earlier Mom said she truly believes that someone who can kick addiction can do anything…she claimed the experience of living with an alcoholic (her father) who never curbed it.

–[ 16 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Watching CNBC’s Closing Bell program, I think that if I could get my basics taken care of, I could make a company that trades stocks. I need to get help taking care of the basics so I can focus on things like that.

–[ 16 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Talking with Mom about Pragmatic stuff in her office, vis-a-vis email with Peter at the same time. I feel melancholy, sad, like drinking, like I could have done things better. And talking about feeling hopeless about my financial situation, and feeling like I’m at the end of things, when Mom suggests to me that 31 is young and this could be early on…it still feels dead-end and sad to me.

–[ 15 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Watching Under the Tuscan Sun at Mom’s house. One of the lines, advice from a woman helping another woman get over a divorce: “Go work on your house and forget about it.” (Sister is a *****, brother is a jerk? Leave em both alone and continue with your work.) Work on the work, forget about the rest, but work on the work.

–[ 15 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

The print in Mom’s office: The Red Umbrella. If you pray for rain, carry an umbrella. To carry an umbrella is the most faithful prayer. That’s what *I* need to do. These things I halfway ask for…how about preparing for them instead.

–[ 15 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Watching Juno, it has such heart. I need more of that in my creations, in my life.

–[ 15 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

With Mom at Burger King, Mom offers to pay but I hand my card to the person and say I want to use mine so I can see if I got paid. We order, she runs the card and all she says when she hands me back my card is, “you got paid”.

–[ 14 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

The less code that executes, the faster your program runs. Small code compiles fast, runs fast. Less is more in code performance. Make h a small type and networking library, simple to use, quick to compile, easy to understand, and fast fast fast.

–[ 14 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Went to NA meeting in a Menonite church, the I Can’t We Can meeting. Nostalgic feelings, lots of women there (me and only 1 other guy with all the rest women, and something about that but not exactly crushes, not distracted during meeting but there is a feeling one gets around women, thinking about their sex even if it’s with other people, I think about that potentiality). Good sharing, I shared, if I go next week I’ll pick up my 90 day keytag at that meeting. The nostalgia makes me want to go to meetings there forever, it’s amazing how fully and quickly I can feel connected with a place…I was wary of coming to PA a few days ago thinking it would be totally foreign and now that I’m here I have these nebulous locality attractions to the place, down to the women at the NA meeting reminding me of future and past versions of Pennsylvania girls I’ve known from CBC youth group–one girl’s share, and self, has got to have been along a skein of evolution right alongside Adele and Beth Ward’s. And in spite of that, recovery for me in a meeting far from home, but I felt at home. It was amazing to go to a meeting in a new place, to do recovery with people I’ve never met, it really wiped away some of the expectant stagnancy of going to the same meetings all the time in Tucson. I wish I could travel more, camp in the woods and drive my car around, go to meetings all over. Maybe I can.

–[ 11 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

It may be that this is a great time in my history, that the recession is a unique period in the history of the country during my lifetime, in which I will grow in ways that I wouldn’t have without a recession. Maybe it will impression me about money in ways that will be useful in my future.

–[ 11 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Weird feeling, tinges of nostalgia, not a good feeling really, I think because I’m on the east coast. Strange feeling, the mist, the cold, the rain, the gray, the green. And being at Mom’s house. Like I’m a kid growing up in Philadelphia.

–[ 10 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Security officer in Tucson airport looks at my ID and boardina pass and says, how do you say your full name? I pronounce it. She says: “Your name is awesome.” “Thank you.” (I came up with it myself.)

Francesca…Jet’s sister…omg beautiful. Likes film (editing). I want to bed her, make babies. She’s delicate and wonderful to talk to, precise, sweet, intelligent, and exotically beautiful.

–[ 10 september 2009 ]——————————————————–

Thinking of my first years after college, working at Softy and LN, living in the Eva Feldman building, but mainly living in the Oregon District, I guess also at the Beavercreek place, those were days when I was happy to be living on my own, in those first years after being a child/teenager, I enjoyed the freedom of being on my own…just having a place and driving to and from work was a novelty for several years. Now I am more drawn to my parents, because I take for granted that I can and will live on my own, and I am aware of the limited time of life, wanting to spend time with them before any of us die.

But there was something nice about the enjoyment of living on my own, even if then it was based on novelty, something I think I would benefit by enjoying again…enjoying my adult life as something I can control, something I can take care of.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Thinking to the first week or two I stopped drinking…I was having those weird dreams for art mechanisms (flowing liquid art dream) and thinking I was seeing signs from god at Home Depot because something I saw in the impulse purchase section of the store fit well with what was in my dream. I don’t think I would have had to have been detoxing to have that interpretation of that situation, but I do think I was quite crazy at that time. Not that crazy is empirically bad…that was an inspiring dream and a visionary idea for an art technology, that stands up to my mind today (it is sound)…I’m still having meaningful dreams right now, so it’s not the dreams themselves that I’m decrying as part of my initial detox…I’m just remembering that week or two, of which those dreams and feelings were a part…that was a hard time.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Reading old email from 200ish and chatting with Christina Robertson just now on facebook making me nostalgic. Remembering a simpler me. A me before addiction, yes, but also a me before some of my mental/creative/professional development…part of why my life was simpler back then is I was less specific, less defined, I enjoyed broader things but shallower things, like certain brands of friendship, sex, and work. I long for aspects of that simplicity, but some aspects of it are not again reachable! They were available only to a less developed me, I think.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Waiting at UMC in Tucson for a 7:30pm NA meeting. Brandon and Rosaline coming. After that, home to sleep, then tomorrow morning wake and pack and leave for the airport, then it’s dallas, then philadelphia, then Mom.

I should mirror my jungledisk to this machine before I go, and I should definitely charge this before I go, then I can organize my shit while I’m travelling, and program and write.

Many stories coming to me recently. Camp memories, and earlier school memories. A person who accidentally flicks a cigarette butt into someone else’s car while driving, then follows them, and offers to buy the person lunch, that’s how they meet (film element). But mostly camp Minnewanca, and Camp Icthus, and always a special place for fishing with Beth and Verdine and Adele, the four of us, or just the three of Beth, Verdine, and me, sneaking out of the main cabin at Icthus at night, to go down to the lake to spotlight.

The element of us being at Icthus with our church outside of camp sessions, on a church retreat with much smaller numbers of people than would normally be at the camp, but us using the same facilities. I like that for a story…a camp, or a BPFNA location () where there are multiple phases of occupation…we are with the main characters as they are part of the time at the camp surrounded by tons of other people, people who don’t have the same alliances as our mains, and then we are with our mains, in the same location (could even be a church, with our knowledge of secret chambers and tunnels), but at these times, it is just our mains…like the peer leaders at Green Lake…we are there before, and after, the campers arrive and leave. Or the sight, late at night in the dining hall at Minnewanca, of a handful of camp counsellors making themselves hot chocolate and cereal, eating and cavorting by flashlight, a small swell of light in the cavernous hall. Camps, churches, seen with the masses and seen with the hardcore participants, and also: the hardcore participants, seen in their isolation and tight cliquishness, and also among tons of relative strangers. Of course a moral irony: we love their tightness, their crewness, but we see them branching out, finding new lovers and friends among the strangers, when the strangers arrive. Story of camp counsellors, story of peer leaders, story of Beth Verdina and me just around Icthus, I would enjoy getting into that world. Perhaps on this trip to Mom’s, perhaps in general, I’ll get more into the world, writing. Creating worlds through writing, through symbol sequences, spend as much of my time doing that as I enjoy.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

I’m scared my little netbook is going to die. It’s only five months old, and I have no reason to think it will die soon. It’s just part of my eternal fear that things are going away, that things and people will break, that purity is leaving. I want to consider the important thing to have used something while it is there. The netbook works, its keyboard is a little greasy, the screen is a little marked from the keyboard when it closes, but it’s fine, it’s fine. The OS is working, the thing works. I want to use it, use it, write journal entries on it (as I am now), write programs on it, and when it’s done I will get a new one. I have to keep that in mind. By the time this netbook is done I want to be in a position where I simply buy a new one. I love having a computer wil me at all times. I would like to continue that, and technology seems it will probably support that desire. Whether it be a netbook, an apple laptop, or whatever comes next, I want to have with me at all times a computer that is on at all times, that I can open instantly and write on. I’d like, just for this month, to not worry about the netbook, to just accept that the netbook will continue working, and to use it pleasurably.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Followed a reckless driver, flashed my lights, honked, and reported him to the police. Also yelled out my window suggesting to the gentleman that he “stop driving like a bitch”. That’s not exactly wrong of me to do, except that it’s dangerous to me, but it’s not exactly right either.

I will stop doing things that are dangerous to me. I will do things right.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

The best way for me to express myself is through my work.

Not through telling people what I think, not through personal dramatics, not through anything casually or conversationally persuasive, not through something that is between me and someone else, but something that I produce without respect to any particular person.

A book, a movie, a script, a program. That is the best way for me to express myself.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Feeling better. Called a bunch of people to check up on *them*, say hi to *them*. Tucson sky wonderful, and I love the feeling of cool skin caused by a tiny layer of sweat evaporating.

Tara girl at Chilis.

Movie: chrys…that might be my movie.

Talked to Tom, that felt good; he suggested that I’m not married to my current job, and reminded me that they cut my wages…and he’s right, and it’s funny because just last night I texted Ashley that I felt like I was married to Pragmatic or something.

A more gregarious me, or a more attractive me, or a happier me…not gregarious in an annoying way, but, a me who jokes with male baristas at a coffeehouse and has them sincerely laughing, a me who walks into Chilis and attracts four or five hostesses for conversation at the entrance of the restaurant. This is a wonderful state of being, friendly.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

From Rachel, on my statement that I am trying to put my heart into my work and be still and quiet about the rest: “Being still and quiet is the wisest and hardest thing to do. But in the end, by doing this, the static in our minds almost always settles and we see things more clearly.”

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Dream that I left my house on a bike, which affixed to it was something like a balance beam tighrope walkers use, and I rode down the courtyard and down the sidewalk and down the street and onto the boardwalk near a Santa Monica/Ocean City looking wharf, and it was beautiful, and I rode far far far down the boardwalk and it eventually turned into an impossibly long, impossibly populated, impossibly stocked buffet of shops and people and happenings, this miles-long street with bike paths on both sides, and shops on both sides, and beyond the shops on one side the ocean and beyond he shops on the other side the city, and I rode all the way to the end of the end of the boardwalk where there was a ship waiting and you entered the boarding dock of the ship through a seafood tavern, and there was a high school girl there as part of a field trip from some faraway land and she had the kind of pertness that attracts me and she had the kind of alertness that attracts me, where everyone else’s normal eyes are dead and then sometimes you meet someone like me, whose eyes are alert, whose mind is aware…she was one of those, and we talked immediately, and she wanted to see me later, and I wanted to see her later, and she was one who even if I, in the folloshness of societal politeness would have left our later meeting to chance, she wouldn’t leave it to chance, and even though she didn’t have a cell phone we would meet later as I would write my email on a receipt, and she was young and rebellious and showing me that the receipt I had just gotten wasn’t really printed on heat-sensitive paper, but the heat-searing-looking markings on it were black instead of blue, as they should have been, indicating that this receipt was instead *photocopied* to resemble one that had been printed on heat-sensitive paper, and with that we went on to investigate the dots of a colon which were suspect for a different reason, and when we looked out the little window at the waiting ship and its ocean beyond, we did it at the same time, and we weren’t afraid, even as we first met, to have our heads close by each other so that we could look out of the little window at the same time…and it was one of those moments and one of those energies where all at the same time we didn’t mind being close because it was simply the practical requirement of looking out the window at the same time, and why should we not look out at the same time, since we were looking out at the subject of our conversation, the boat, and its leaving to take her and her classmates on the next segment of a field trip, but yet we wanted our heads to be close as we looked out the window, and we wouldn’t have kept them apart even if there hadn’t been any practical requirement that they be close, but yet if we hadn’t have wanted to be close for any other reason than the practical, we would have been close for that reason, and not been concerned with the implications. We were that kind of people, who can unselfconsciously like or not-like each other many times throughout an interchange and our behavior be totally unchanged, totally undisturbed, by our motivations: if we liked each other as boy and girl, we would have had the same conversation as if we hadn’t, we were that true. But we did like each other, and we would later act on it, we both knew. She would take my email and write me later from some overpriced internet cafe on the boardwalk, and we would meet and continue our relationship. When I woke up from this dream of bicycles and boardwalks and oceans and ships and fieldtrips and mates, I knew that starting today, in my waking life, everything would start to get better. In the waking haze coming out of this dream, I know my life hit a vertex today. Yesterday, today, was a vertex in my life, a turning point, after which the rules of progression are changed. There is a definite high school energy to this dream, and I will never be me in high school again, and do not want to be, but there are some aspects of me from that time that I know are active again now. I had to go through everything I’ve been through to get to be who I am on this day, and some of it produces a me I’ve never been before, and some of it washes out, revealing a me I’ve been before. My childlike path of simplicity/abstinence with respect to addiction is part of why I can feel this way today. My intellectual and social experiences up to this point are another part of why I can feel this way. I am older than I have ever been. I am younger than I have ever been.

Also, in the dream, one of the young lady’s classmates pointed out that I was floating some inches above the ground when I stood or walked. Riding a bicycle, a symbol of freedom for me, but also, my feet would not quite bend to gravity’s will that they touch down.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

The best way for me to express myself is through my work.

–[ 9 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Proceed quietly, peacefully, simply, from here.

–[ 8 september 2009 ]———————————————————

Dreams last night that I drank a glass of wine, and that I was in a dusty Arizona gas station / parking lot inhabited with snakes, and a guy was holding a giant-sized golden king cobra by the sides of its mouth. It hadn’t bitten him yet, and couldn’t quite bite him, but it wanted to, and it would eventually, if he kept holding it. Was happy to wake up and find that I hadn’t actually drank alcohol, that I still have 70+ days clean off that shit. I’d love to be able to drink reasonably, I think sometimes…but I do hate the dehydrating effect of alcohol, even with one drink, and I don’t remember many times when I had only one drink.

–[ 7 september 2009 ]———————————————————

read: “The Science of Getting Rich”…the right to be rich. a person needs a great deal of money to actualize themself.

my new attitude: (in the style of Howard Hughes from Scorcese: “No, I don’t think I will.”

Look at university for jobs.

Maybe do training/teaching of people about computer stuff.

If things go really bad I’ll hitchhike to D.C. and go Ghandi on people’s asses.

The Rules
1. No one gets to make me unhappy.
2. Wear a crossbow at all times.
3. …

–[ 31 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Maybe get a job at the U of A, then I can get a discount on school. And maybe stop working for other people except to do menial work…save my mind for pursuits that I direct.

–[ 31 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I feel like there’s a conspiracy among average people, among weak people, sick people, normal people, to keep the extraordinary person down. Like the Japanese saying “The tall nail gets hammered down.” I think that’s true. I think people I work with have done it to me for years and my current company continues to support that sort of conspiracy of idiocy, conspiracy of the average.

I find Pragmatic Solutions absolutely ridiculous in some ways: Peter doesn’t respond to some of my email…like my asking him whether I could sell this or do that or whatever…he just lets them drop. It makes me want to quit my job today. Today. He just ignores me on certain fronts.

–[ 31 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Just looked at “cal -3” … to see it visually…all those days I haven’t drank or drugged. All of July. All of August. Some days in June that aren’t even visible. That’s a lot of days, in a row, that I’ve been clean. What an accomplishment! That’s a lot of time!! This is my new way, this is what I am doing.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Brandon just called. I actually got over my obsession and fear and picked up the phone. We talked a couple minutes and decided to get together sometime this week.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I’m freaking out because every job I want requires a masters or doctoral degree in computer science. Fuck me. Some require a PhD from a “top rated school”. I worry that I’m painted into a corner.

Maybe I should have stayed with Susquehanna. (?!!) I feel so fucked right now. I don’t have a PhD and with my history I won’t ever have a security clearance. The only thing left is to start my own company or do my own creative work. I just want to be able to survive while I do that.

I need to take care of the parts I can, and let go of the rest. If I am limited in the world for some reason, or limited by it, or limited by me, I need to look at what I can control, and maybe the limitations are a sign pointing me in the direction I should go.

The pragmatic situation makes me think I need to find a new job ASAP. Then it won’t matter as much that I’m afraid that place is a dead end for me. It’ll basically be: see how long I can get them to pay me for doing as little as possible.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I feel like a failure, like my jobs and projects have come to no fruition. This is partially my fault and partially the fault of, say, Peter…who has me, but doesn’t use me, doesn’t give me the credit I deserve, publicly, with our asshole chief faggot. It has become a crime for me to do well there, and it’s been thay way since the first few months. The inflection intro video…that should have been used in presentations. We underutilize our ability. It’s a shame. And Peter’s unwillingness to, say, take on an investor when he had the chance, and his inability to run the company in a way that allows me to continue to get paid a normal salary, is hurting me…it’s putting my living situation in jeopardy and making it hard for me to make ends meet. I am mad at Peter about that. The fact that he hired a web developer since putting me at half salary is almost too much for me to take…I can do web development! I’ve suggested to him before that he allow me to do some gruntwork…exactly what his motivations are, I don’t know. Mom suggested he’s trying to get me to quit…I have wondered that before. It’s been an ok run there, but I hate it now, especially the part about getting half pay.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Make a system that lets you design life forms. The output interface should be such that they can be implemented as software, or squishyware, using the same design interface. A gui interface for creating living systems, conscious systems, ants, organic complex software systems composed of lego-like building blocks…various visualization plugins for viewing the components and constructed systems. You should be able to design and view the dna, and all other organizational structures. ,View stats, put the organization into worlds, clone them, investigate worlds… Like CAD+gcc for living beings.

Don’t publish any information about it, don’t tell anyone about it, don’t show it to anyone, until it’s done. Support myself and build it, then use it, and use it with strategic others.

Watch science fiction movies and make everything in them happen.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I feel frustrated because I feel like I won’t be able to find a job…I have no degree and the kinds of things I want to do, people expect you to have a PhD. I want to have my own company but I’m scared I will run out of money before I’m able to get from here to there. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live this life, what I can do to fit in to a larger system in a way that works for all. This makes me have thoughts of suicide, because I can’t see how the future can/will work. Can I give up needing to know? Maybe. I feel like a failure.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Suzanne says I would be perfect in Australia. That it’s a mix of European culture and what American culture should be.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Dream that I was hiding an uzi. My family was around, parnts divorced, it was Christmas morning and there was pretense of still celebrating it…presents were a scrap of paper for each of us, each with something written on the back…the present was some word or words, I forget what exactly. I put the uzi in a plastic bag from a grocery store and was looking for a cabinet to hide it in where no one would find it. It was unregistered, and if found, would be bad for me. I was also concerned that someone in my family might, while discovering it, accidentally shoot themself. While handling it and hiding it, I was concerned I might accidentally shoot myself. The gun was loaded.

Was unable to find interpretations or symbol meanings online that rang true to me.

Also, prior, I dreamt I was making a game with a slightly-tilted overhead view, with 3d objects, and the setting for the character was a beautiful moonlit forest.

–[ 30 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Went to midnight meeting, spoke. Six people there. Outside. Stars. Kelly, chess champion, talked with her about saying goodbye to “friends” we used with. And a guy at the end of the meeting shook all our hands, saying, thank you, you all have something I want, which is being clean. That I have 67 days and could share at a meeting where he was, is meaningful to me. And I hope, for him specifically, that he gets clean. His name was Grotto.

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Go through a sequence of bits, finding pairs of sequences, each of which are prime numbers, and for which the first is smaller than the second. Multiply them together. The encoded data is a list of the products, and to decode, you go through, factor each number, and put the smaller factor first in the decoded sequence.

Also: what we think of as multiplication, which is also an *and* operator in a bit grid, has cousins…doing any of the 16 binary boolean operators on numbers who form the axes of a grid, results in a new number. In this way, the concepts of prime and composite numbers have cousins, perhaps, if the multiplication operator is instead another boolean operator…maybe there are different numbers that are prime/composite if the boolean operator is different. Maybe those other types of factoring/compositing can be used in a system like the one above. Maybe they can tell us something about the structure of numbers.

So: factoring/compositing has both an operation, and a dimension[ality]…the operation is described above, the dimension is 1 in the sense that we usually look at a multiplication table…but the middle area, instead of being a rectangle, could be a prism, with the sides (factors) being rectangles, thus making the factoring/compositing dimension 2, or the dimension could be 3, and so on.

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Michael said I has style…that he wouldn’t mind being seen with me in public.

I gave two people white tags and two people orange tags today!

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

chage :: a way to input data from another world (perhaps the real world, or perhaps another chage) to keep the chage current with the other world…then a way to fast-forward the chage to use for prediction…ways to monitor and meter, and to visualize the chage, and the game being played in it.

Make a list of systems to model. Pick one as a first. Build it, with the subsystems, keeping the other systems in mind when designing the subsystems.

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

The idea that my life might have a plan scares me…what if I don’t fulfill theplan? But the idea that there might be something wonderful for me to do, is a good one.

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Woody Allen (Manhattan): “No, I didn’t read the article on China’s faceless masses. I was looking at the lingerie ads.”

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

chage :: system, library, and language for writing chaotic games…language suitable for efficient distributed execution, that can represent any game, that runs in the chaos game engine.

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I feel like with that idea, and the recent ideas about creating living systems, begins to form a complete vision of what to do. By making systems like us, we can understand our dynamics better, we can turn the world in our hands more precisely, we can form the world better. What kind of systems can I build? Simulations, models, of traffic, biology, psychology, of culture and the progression of human thought.

I feel optimistic, and in a place where I could commit to a long-term project, a large project. And when I’m old, or when I’m ready, once I’ve made money from those simulations, I will open the source code up to everyone, and I’ll do something else…probably making movies/games/stories/books…

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

What if you could make a simulation of the human body
Then you could use it to simulate the effects of solutions to sickness

You could develop cures to diseases

What if you could well simulate other systems like politics and psychology, then you could try strategies in the simulation, and learn about the system dynamics through your simulation

Like in the stock market, if you can create a fidel simulation, you can better understand how to act, and understand the likely effects of your actions

–[ 29 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

Bill said if you want to experience surrender
Give up comparing
And the need to know

–[ 28 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I’ve been clean for 65 days…no alcohol or other drugs. NA has helped me, and I’ve taken a break from it the last day and a half…I haven’t wanted to go to meetings. I have fond feelings for NA and its people, and I may well go back to meetings in the next few days…but I needed some space from it, and I’m taking it. I’ve thought about drinking the last few days, but haven’t done it. I like having a clear nose and clear thoughts; I do miss some things about drinking and I don’t miss other things about it. If I drank now it would be because I’m stressed about money, and my life. If my income wasn’t half of what it was a few months ago, my situation would be significantly better than it is today…I’m not going to be able to pay my rent on the 1st…if I had my usual income from Pragmatic, I would be able to pay it. That’s my biggest stress right now.

–[ 28 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

If Peter asks me to do anything more for him, I want to ask him for development hardware…a pragmatic-purchased machine for source control, and a development machine for me.

Next time I’m interviewing, ask the company for sample source code…I want to make sure that their code indicates a process that I want to be a part of. And secure an equipment budget and spend a trial day at the company before agreeing to anything. And…don’t agree to anything…don’t sign any papers, don’t sign shit.

–[ 28 august 2009 ]———————————————————–

I have programming ability…if I was given a large project by an employer, I would have, at this time, more ability to bring to it than ever before. What I want to do is define my own project and devote appropriate energy to it…something large, something challenging. Something I can care about enough to spend years working on, no matter what else must be going on in my life.

I could work on artificial life / artificial [general] intelligence type things. A specific project within that, though.

Or I could work on a language…a software language, and/or environment for building genetic/cellular programs/organisms. A platform, an operating system for living programs.

Compression algorithms based on finding simple programs that generate larger chunks of data…create and patent that.

Switching network like a phone system…for? For anonymous communication between emerging agents.

A system that dreams. A system that illustrates my theory of planning and liking.

Become Eldon Tyrell. Create living systems that people will buy. There will be other consequences…people will be eclipsed by the singularity. But we can have some fun in the mean time…and maybe even more afterward. How about that, as inhesion: promote the singularity. Make living intelligent systems that make more living and more intelligent systems, such that the singularity happens. The technology will change the whole world in an uncontrollable way, but just prior to the singularity I will make a whole lot of money, and after the singularity there will be no need for money. That’s something to work for, something compelling, something either appropriately challenging or way too hard, something that brings together philosophy and technology. Seed AI. A system that makes a system that makes a system that [passes the Turing test] [cures cancer] [cures death] [redefines consciousness]. This could involve [creating languages and compilers] [creating an operating system for living programs] [making systems that dream, plan, and like].

Define the outcome. More specifically than above? Make a program that makes a program that cures cancer. Make a program that makes a conscious program. Make a program that figures out a way to extend my consciousness infinitely. A program that dreams of a better world, and makes that world happen. Make a program that learns how to do things that I don’t know how to do, creates fields of inquiry/study/knowledge, that eclipses me as a living intelligent conscious being, and that creates a system/being that eclipses *it* as an intelligent conscious living being.

If I believed I was working toward that, and I could keep that in mind every day, then I would have a compelling reason to live. I want that. A good reason to be alive, something that energizes me, draws me forward.

–[ … ]———————————————————————-

Suzanne: that having escaped American conditioning is useful in the arts like being immune to disease would be in the field of medicine :: also..the idea that we would really like being used in the proper way, being plugged in in the proper way :: Suzanne jokes about putting her soapbox on top of her high-horse

David “Life is joy.”

co3 or cor3

remember the idea from my alife terminal screensaver: that you can make an amazing game with very little code…if it’s the right code…make it like the animated wheel from the franklin institute…low tech but ingenious

remember: you’ll be glad you didn’t use, in the future, you will be glad youdidn’t use right now…today I almost bought alcohol…I’m glad I didn’t, just a few hours later, but earlier I didn’t know I would feel this way…remember, in the future, that the future may feel different than I think it will now

make things like the phone network switching

if I wanted, I could decide not to work for money

cristina said cindy said I reminded her of someone she was going to marry, before she got cold feet

journal :: 28 august 2009 — 2010.03.02

Ash’s arrangement of Carbon and Bullshit

“I was going to call you, but I threw away your phone number when I thought I had
put it in my address book. So I suck and could you please send me your number
yet again? Thanks. Behn loved the script (which I’m sure he’s told you) and
he’ll make some cuts before he does it here (which he also may have told you).
Anyway, here’s my version.”

Exterior of a coffee shop. Follow a couple inside.

A: in one second a bullet from a gun travels three thousand feet.

B: in one second a particle of light travels one hundred and eighty-sixthousand

A: according to the Big Bang Theory our universe expanded from something
smaller than a piece of dust to approximately its present size in a tiny
fraction of a second.

Girl Standing In Line (this is a voice over–her thoughts): that first second
is always the longest one. I look down at my watch, (CAMERA PANS FROM HER POV)
and for the first three or four seconds, nothing changes. the seconds stay the
same. then they finally move, one, two, and after that first one they’re going
the right speed. but the first one, which was actually probably shorter since
you looked down somewhere in the middle of it, takes forever. it’s like your
watch hasn’t realized you’re looking at it and it takes it a while to start
doing its job again. Julian says that by looking at a clock you actually stop
time. time. noun. system of distinguishing events. a dimension enabling two
identical events occurring in the same point in space to be distinguished,
measured by the interval between the events.

Her Boyfriend: you keep looking at your watch. are you–

Girl: I’m sorry, I’m–

Boyfriend: no, it’s okay, I just wondered if you were–

Girl: no, no

Boyfriend: waiting for something to happen, or–

Girl: I just do that

Boyfriend: if you have somewhere else you have to be–

Girl: no.

Girl, vo: time. noun. period with limits. a limited period during which an
action, process, or condition exists or takes place. elapsed time.

Hep Cat A: if I drink too much espresso in too short a time I get very
existential. bad existential. I can drink coffee okay but after two or three
double espressos I always get very existential in a completely scary way. like
an existential dread sort of way. I start thinking about how I’m alive, and how
that is all there is for me, and how it’s going to eventually stop, and how
there won’t be me anymore, and even though when I’m not jacked up on espresso
that seems like a good thing, somewhat good, at least acceptable, after two or
three double espressos the thought that I will someday cease to exist
is…really…very…bad. double espresso.

Disney A (boy)-to waitress: thank you. (to Disney B (girl)) okay so like we’re
sitting here and we’re eating Big Macs and fish sandwiches, and we’re playing
Disney trivia, and we’re having fun. you and I are great friends. and we can
look at it that way. I can say to myself, you and I have a great relationship.
we have great connection, incredible rapport, we experience joy and
enlightenment every time we get together. we can say it that way. we can say,
I’m sitting here across from you and I feel a deep degree of support and
understanding. I feel loved. now that’s very nice, and it makes me feel good,
but it’s also very high level and abstract. if I think about my relationship
with you I can say, I love her, I like her, we get along well, we’re a good
match, we click. I can talk about my experience with you and I can say, it was a
very romantic evening. we had a good time. we made love. but what’s really going
on here? are you and I sitting here having a deep, spiritual moment? you can
call it that if you want, but what does it really mean? what does a deep,
spiritual moment really look like? well, I would say that we are having a
spiritual moment right now. would you agree with that? … absolutely. and what
are we doing that makes it so? well, we’re sitting upright, on soft seats, in
the air conditioning rather than outside. we’re eating good food–no, what is
good? we’re eating familiar food, food that we’ve had exact copies of a thousand
times before. it is food that we know well. we are breathing comfortably,
matching each other’s posture and tonality. fucking…Anthony robins, right? we
are talking. we are involuntarily digesting food. but digesting is too general.
refinement. our stomachs and intestines and pancreas are secreting bile and
other acidic juices, acids, and we’re breaking down that Big Mac and this fish
sandwich into the basic elements from which they are formed. we are turning this
pre-processed, assembly-line soybean burger back into the carbon and bullshit
that it came from. that’s all that’s going on. that’s all that’s happening here.
we may interpret it as a spiritual moment. we may give it deep meaning. but
another way to look at it is just as a complex array of organic processes.
that’s all it is. and that’s no reason to get upset. that’s no reason to
get depressed. the only way I would get depressed is if I walked in here
expecting to find a spiritual experience, instead of digestion, or if I decided
not to interpret this digestion as a heavenly thing. I can do it either way. I
can see this moment as an abstract metaphysical phenomenon, or I can leave it
like it is, like carbon and bullshit, and that…is an abstract metaphysics all
its own.

Big Mac: I’m just a Big Mac.

Fish Sandwich: and massive amounts of caffeine.

Big Mac: what are you?

Fish Sandwich: fish mostly.

Big Mac: massive amounts of caffeine.

Fish sandwich: massive.

Girl (v.o.)(shot is from her pov looking at the couple on the sofa): eight
fifty-seven a.m. carbon and bullshit eats a sandwich. time. noun. method for measuring intervals. a system for measuring
intervals of time. sidereal time. central daylight time.

Hippe A (female): I dream of the moon. I dream of tides.

Hippie B (male): I dream of music, of singing and drums and bagpipes and a
night at the orchestra.

Girl, vo
orchestra. noun. large group of classical musicians. a large group of musicians
playing classical music, consisting of sections of string, woodwind, brass, and
percussion players, and directed by a conductor. orchestra. people who get
together and play instruments. and what is an instrument? it is a piece of wood
or metal or catgut that has moving parts that make sounds. and what is sound? it
is vibration. that’s all it is. it’s little tiny particles of gas moving back
and forth. time. noun. tempo of music. the relative speed at which a musical
composition is played.

Boyfriend: okay. theoretical. let’s say you have a box of rice, and you open it
up and throw in some maggot eggs. you close the box, and wait however long. at
some point, when you open up that box, there’s not going to be any rice left.
you’re going to have a swimming mass of maggots, some maggot shit, and no rice.
so what is life? what is a maggot’s life, essentially? a maggot is the magic
trick that turns a box of rice, or whatever, into maggots and maggot shit and
then, eventually, dead, decomposing maggots. see what I’m saying? a maggot is
not a thing. it’s not a creature or a being. it’s the name we have for the
transformation that took place inside the box. everywhere in the world
situations like boxes full of rice are turning into different situations, like
boxes full of whatever is left when maggots decompose, and then whatever’s left
when whatever that is decomposes, or is assimilated into another process of
life. not that life isn’t life, that life isn’t living. it is. everything is
always in the process of changing. some categories of change are called
movement. some are called decay. some are called life.

Girl, vo: time. noun. time as a causative force. time conceived as a force
capable of acting on people and objects. time’s ravages.

Disney B: life is a process of getting from point a to point b.

Disney A: life is a box of maggots.

Disney B: life is a magic trick.

Disney A: the trick that turns a bunny into doves.

Disney B: the trick that turns Big Macs and oxygen into dust and books and

Disney A: that spawns similar processes called offspring.

Disney B: imagine if you could visually trace the historical path of all the
atoms that were part of your body when you were born. imagine that each one of
them leaves a red trace line in space. these atoms of your infant body would have
come from the air, from the ocean, from other planets. they would have been part
of other people who lived before. there would be a cord of trace lines spiraling
into your mother’s mouth from every part of the universe. a glowing ball of red
inside her body, forming you. after you were born, even before, some of your
atoms would constantly be leaving what we call you, to float away in the air and
get stuck on a couch and then rub off on another person. we’re constantly
trading matter. we’re made of the same stuff.

Disney A: the very same.

Disney B: you just organize it differently than me.

Disney A: and in a recognizable way so that you always know who I am.

Disney B: with that model it doesn’t make sense to consider anything in
isolation. it would be meaningless to think about me outside the context of me
and you. or you outside the context of your Big Mac.

Disney A: and massive amounts of caffeine.

Disney B: or of any of us outside the context of all the items that surround
us, compose us.

Disney A: entertain us.

Disney B: distract us.

Disney A: annoy us.

Girl, vo, from her pov, camera pans to the door: time. noun. minute of hour.
the minute or hour as indicated by a clock. what time is it?

Teen A: it’s Twinkie time.

Teen B: what?

Teen A: I don’t think you understood what I said. it’s Twinkie time.

Teen B: oh, like it’s Little Debbie time?

Teen A: yeah, like it’s hostess fruitcake time.

Teen B: Pez time.

Teen A: Bubble Tape time.

Teen B: Nerds time.

Teen A: Fruit Roll Up time.

Teen B: Sour Patch Kids time.

Teen A: Gummy Worm time.

Teen B: Now and Later time.

Teen A: Mike and Ike time.

Teen B: Good and Plenty time.

Teen A: eww. I hate Good and Plentys. they’re fucking disgusting.

Hep Cat A: I’m gonna get some more coffee.

Girl, vo, camera follows Hep Cat A back in line: coffee. noun. strong
caffeine-rich drink. a drink made from ground or processed coffee beans that
contains caffeine and has a mildly stimulating effect. coffee may be drunk hot,
often with cream or milk and sweetened with sugar, or iced.

Boyfriend:…theoretical. I saw this on the internet. you walk into a gallery
and all around you are pedestals with blenders on them, and inside the blenders
are goldfish swimming around oblivious to their situation. the blenders are
plugged in. if you want, you can participate in the exhibit by going up to one
of the blenders and pressing the button, throwing it into blend, or whip, or
puree, or liquefy, or whatever.

Girl: I wouldn’t do it. … would you?

Boyfriend: absolutely.

Girl: you would?

Boyfriend: of course. why not? ninety percent of the work has already been done
by whoever set up the exhibit. pressing the button or not pressing the button is

Girl: except that one way the fish die and the other way they don’t.

Boyfriend: true, but so much of the work has already gone into setting up the
fish’s deaths in a way that the execution can happen in an instant, by the hand
of someone who five minutes before they press the button wasn’t thinking about
doing anything of the sort. they’re having a normal day in their normal universe
of events and then suddenly they are faced with a situation they would never
have thought of themselves, and if they did, wouldn’t have gone to the trouble
to actually create, and now, all they have to do, if they want to, is press
puree and walk out of the gallery back into their normal life. they don’t have
to think about it. it’s the fucking artist who put that shit together who spends
the time thinking about it. premeditating the rapid potential of fish death,
implicating gallery goers in fish murder.

Girl: I don’t know. to me, it’s whoever presses the button. it doesn’t matter
how much planning the artist slash criminal mastermind puts into something, it’s
the people who carry out the plans who are responsible for it happening. the
person who pulls the trigger. the person who crashes the plane. the person who
pushes puree.

Boyfriend: I see your point, and I agree with you.

Girl: and I agree with yours as well.

Girl, vo : time. noun. moment something occurs. a moment or
period at which something takes place. at the time of her ninetieth birthday.
or, as in, the time of death. time. noun. suitable moment. a moment or period
chosen as appropriate for something to be done or to take place. the times for
the games will be announced. or…as in, now’s about the time I’d like to see
clear water and a fish in a blender turned into murky water and essence of fish.
time. noun. unallocated period. a period that is not allocated for a particular
purpose. I had time on my hands. so I set up an art exhibit featuring goldfish
in blenders. time. noun. period needed. a period required, allocated, or taken
to complete an activity. how much time? does it take for a goldfish to die in a
blender once someone has pressed puree? about one second. time. noun. period
with a particular quality. a period, activity, or occasion that has a particular
quality or characteristic. often used in the plural. they’ve been through some
rough times. we had an interesting time there. and, of course…it was the best
of times, it was the worst of times.

you are one hundred percent bullshit and zero percent carbon.
you are a toad beyond repair.
you are the acute angle of a hanger on the discount rack at Saks Fifth Avenue.
you are the glob of toothpaste between my teeth, hanging like taffy. gluey
cotton- cotton hair, gamma rays, deflector shields.
you are the Olympic torch submerged a thousand feet below the surface of the
ocean, sealed in a glass bubble that is running out of air.
you implode into the shape of a flower, brilliant shards of an orchid.
you are that same orchid, in a brittle vase in the flatness of the Mojave
you are a warplane, screaming across that desert, bracing to explode.


Girl, vo: time. noun. appointed moment. a designated or customary moment or
period at which something is done or takes place. it’s time to wake up. it’s
time to wake up. love? love? oh my god. … hello?

FairyGodMother : what’s your emergency?

Lady with car seat : coming through the tunnel. white rays shining in
around the edges. bracing myself for the plunge. coming out the end of a
waterslide. ahhhhhh! I can’t go I’m not ready I have one more thing I have to do
before the end. this isn’t how it was supposed to be and I want a do-over. but
you don’t get any do-overs in life and you don’t get to save your game and you
don’t get any undos and half the time you don’t even get to say what you really
feel. now you’re my baby and I’m self-pregnant with a second, you’re my baby
lovely baby lovely lovely lovely baby boy you’re my one and only baby one and
only yes you are you are so lovely and I’m going to protect you from everything
and no one’s ever going to hurt you because I won’t let them and you’re never
going to have to go through what I went through back there because no one should
ever have to go through that. no they shouldn’t no one should no one should ever
have to go through what I went through back there. you’re my baby. you’re my
baby, baby boy.

Girl, vo : eight fifty-seven a.m. carbon and bullshit has a
baby. … and you always said your mother was such a bitch. bitch. noun.
offensive term. a highly offensive term that insults a woman’s temperament.

Man on cell phone: now I’m writing your mother a letter. and why am I writing a
letter to your mother when it was you I was in love with, not your mother, not
your sisters, not your mom. therapy would recommend that I write a letter to you
even though I’d have nowhere to send it. but whenever I do that it turns out to
be a letter you’re writing me, telling me I’m stuck in fourth-dimensional pain,
that I’m blind from where I am, that where you are it’s bright and you can feel
no pain, that you are beyond what I for some reason still feel the need to
struggle with and that I could, even in this world, if I wanted to, get past
that struggle, that if I have any task in my lifetime it is to completely
dismantle my concept of problem. problem. what is it that makes all these things
a problem for me? what is its architecture, what is the construction of that
judgment? can I not escape that vexing of self, can I not learn to live
post-dichotomy of this or that into the wider space just beyond, of disregard,
of replacing, redirecting my focus to a smearing together of the two, whichever
two, into a nothingness of the before, beyond Nietzsche’s good and evil, beyond
the having or not having of sexual pursuits, beyond pursuit, beyond the
consciousnesses of having or not having themselves. you tell me that, in these
_letters_. you tell me that and you tell me that I am foolish for not
continuing to feel ecstasy, that even death is not a good enough reason to stop.
but you aren’t here and you don’t know how it feels to be here, and you tell me
that, too, that what I see is shrouded, looking through a veil, that you can see
it clearly as it is, that in your light you can wrap yourself completely around
my darkness, but from where I am I don’t even know what light is, I am so so
shadowed by dark.

Business Guy :…bar on a Monday night. the trolley stop. this town is dead, I’m
finally coming to realize that. nobody’s out. half the bars aren’t even open.
the asylum’s not open. Sloopy’s ain’t open. canal street is dark. everybody’s at
home and I’m sitting in the trolley stop drinking top shelf. teaching the
bartender how to make drinks. the sign in front of me reads, you must be twenty
one. well, I’m twenty one, and I’m a genius, and I’m lonely at the moment. I’ve
done nothing productive at work for at least three weeks. just bullshitting and
day trading. social life is lacking, and I’m trying to do something about that,
but nobody else is out except other working men. I’d like to gain some hang out
friends, have some casual sex, you know. I need to involve myself in some extra
curriculars. people at work think I’m a little depressed, and they are
concerned. they ask me about it, try to discern how I’m doing, invite me to
their social gatherings, and generally care. I appreciate it, and I try to
pretend that I’m okay, try to manipulate my voice and mannerisms into happiness.
but it doesn’t work, they can tell anyway, sometimes can tell more than I can. I
am thinking about my ex-girlfriend’s roommate. and the last waitress who gave me
her phone number with the bill. I might call that number now. or I might not. as
Julian sings, she might be pretty but I wouldn’t fuck her. I’m on my second
purple rain now, sixty percent done, maybe seventy percent. in about twenty
minutes. I may stop after this and drive home in an hour or one half an hour.
starting to feel the drinks. starting to have the motion thing. thinking about
buying a cigarette. pack, rather.

Business Guy’s Friend: nice construction.

Business Guy : thinking better of
it, thinking about cancer. thinking about alcoholism, drinking now once or
twice a week. definitely feeling the drinks now, solidly feeling the motion
thing. sipping my ice for traces of alcohol. thinking of Leaving Las Vegas,
Nicholas Cage, having trouble with standing. feeling good. that fucking
waitress. as far as I can tell she stood me up on our would be date last week. I
want to call her but my pride prevents me. I want to fuck her but, again, pride
prevents me.

Girl, vo: time. noun. closing time. the time at which a bar or pub is legally
required to close.

Coffee shop server: tonight I throw a Triscuit in the sink with dirty dishes.
talk with her for an hour and a half on the telephone about exes. watch
clueless, drinking one fourth of a bottle of Absolut mandarin by myself. with
sweet and sour mix. write a note that I’ve been planning on for days. drive
drunk to her place in the middle of the night, park half a block away, walk to
her porch and deliver the note to their mailbox. the door was open, lights on
upstairs and down. wonder if she’s awake, if she’s there, if she’s alone, if
she’s alive. open the mail box. put it in. the mailbox lid makes a sound. I
wonder if it’s audible from within. I drop the letter. walk back to my car, not
turning around to see if my sounds were heard. drive home past two cops
investigating something infinitely more interesting to them than me, come home,
write, collapse into sleep? tonight on the phone I said, enjoy the universe from
your point of view. that was my closing to the conversation. I certainly will.

Teen A: I dream of drinking uncontrollably.

Teen B: hello sweetie. I am filling the day with your beautiful radiance. may
this moment be full of peace. awww. yeah. I remember when I wrote that for you.

Teen A: stop it. I’m dreaming.

Teen B: no you’re not.

Teen A: I dream you’re just beyond my reach, and I can never get you back.

Teen B: I dream I’m lost.

Mom A: you know what I love? I painted all day today and when I close my eyes I
can see swirls of patterns…

Mom B: oh, that’s wonderful.

Mom A: it was so much fun…I just played…and art should be like that. it
should only be play like a little kid plays.

Mom B: yes.

Mom A: yes, and a little kid plays…not expecting to be observed…a little
kid is playing to their own, in their own world…

Mom B: not for a grade, or to see what people think.

Mom A: for their own…enjoyment.

Teen A: I dream of toes.

Teen B: I dream of fingers.

Teen A: I dream of lust.

Teen B: I dream I cheat.

Teen A: I dream I laugh.

Teen B: I dream I win.

Girl vo: time. noun. certain interval. a limited but unspecified period. we
stayed for a time.

Girl : you are pure
form, Byron, Homer, Gauss. you are Turing. you are Hughes. you are jazz.
you break yourself again and again and again. you tumble over and over the
hill, Jack and Jill making love in the fairytale.

Teen A: I dream of the sea.

Teen B: I dream of a desert at night.

Teen A: I dream of snakes between my toes.

Teen B: I dream rivers.

Teen A: I dream blood.

Teen B: I dream of silence rolling like waves.

Teen A: I dream of salt.

Teen B: I dream the deep.

Teen A: I dream the sky.

Teen B: I dream I float.

Teen A: I dream I die.

Girl, vo: time. noun. anticipated moment. a moment in which some important
event such as a birth or death is expected to happen. she knew her time had

Hep Cat B: I dream losing my virginity, losing my mind to passion enflaming,
engulfing, enraging me to possess, enabling me to control you, comfort you,
console you, eat you up, digest you, expel you, and bring you in again.

Girl, vo: time. verb. schedule something. to plan the moment for something,
especially in order to receive the best result or effect. to time an entrance.

Guitar Girl ***NEED TO GET THE
my song song song song song oh oh sing sing sing ohhhhhhhhhoahhh this voice is
mine this voice is mine this voice is mine. you can sing anything you want with
this voice.
oh, your singing.
soon, I promise, soon I wont shy away, dear oh, soon, I want you, soon, I want
to, soon, whatever you say…even now, when you’re close and we touch, and
you’re kissing my brow, I don’t mind it too much, but you have to admit I’m
endearing, I help keep things humming, I’m not domineering, what’s one small
shortcoming? soon, soon, soon…soon…soon…
soon. ooh I want more, ooh I love it. I love it. oh, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
I would never tire of you.
oh, never. same with you, darling, same with you. loo loo loo. look at me, I’m
as helpless as a kitten up a tree, and I feel like I’m clinging to a cloud, I
get misty the moment you’re near. you can say that you’re leading me on, but
that’s just what I want you to do…don’t you notice how hopelessly I’m
lost…I’m too much in love…
I could fly with you.
mmm hmmm … and we remind each other, we do. I can’t say love enough.
I know.
we need to think of a new word for love.
there is no word to express love.
no, no, no.

Girl, vo: time. noun. historical period. a period in history, often
characterized by a particular event or person. often used in the plural. in
Shakespeare’s time. ancient times.

Guitar Girl: I dream of then.
I dream of how.
I dream of when.
I dream of treasure.
I dream of trouble.

Teen A: I dream of tyranny.

Teen B: I dream of revolution.

Teen A: I dream of empire.

Teen B: I dream of dust.

Teen A: I dream of space.

Teen B: I dream the stars.

Girl, vo: eight fifty-seven a.m. carbon and bullshit looks at the stars.

Coffee Shop Server Boy : remember spending like
four hours in the bathroom and we were painting our faces for that party and the
party turned out to be really stupid but we had so much fun getting ready
painting and…we must have painted our faces like eight times and that was so
much fun I have so much fun when I’m with you you know that?

Coffee Shop Server Girl: I do, I do.

Guitar Girl: ommmmmm…
all space is here.
all time is now.
here now.

Girl, vo: time. noun. somebody’s lifetime. a period during which somebody is
alive, especially the most active or productive period in somebody’s life. she’d
been a well-known athlete in her time. we didn’t worry about such trifles in my

Hippie Girl : you are my captor. you lavish me with incense. you cradle
me and kiss me. I am your slave.
you are my twin. you mirror me. you play with me.
you turn me over and over.
over and over and over again and again and again and again and again and again
and again…
rolling over and over and over and over…

Hep Cat B: he. sweetly. dances. to. smoky. red. blushing. as. we. nourish. the.

Girl: that day. that day never happened.

FairyGodMother : then where am I?

Girl: you’re still here somewhere. you’re hiding.

FairyGodMother : I would miss you too much to keep hiding
this long. you might not miss me after a while. you might get used to being
gone. Are you used to me being gone?

Girl: I don’t think about you as much as I used to.

FairyGodMother: but you’ll never get used to me being gone.

Girl: in a sense, I am used to it. I don’t expect you to show up all of a

FairyGodMother: do you still wish I would?

Girl: I have lists of things I would give up for that to happen. but no matter
how long these lists get, there’s no one to bargain with. no one can grant my

FairyGodMother: do you still dream about me?

Girl: I still do.

Girl: I remember how we used to walk around the neighborhood and we would only
go three streets in each direction because if we stayed in that little area we
could pretend that we were in England. we would wear clothes we thought looked
British and talk in an English accent the whole time and we’d be cold on our
walk and we’d snuggle together and hold each other like we were colder than we
actually were and afterwards we’d go back to your place and we’d have tea.

Girl, vo: time. noun. season. a period during which particular climactic
conditions prevail. the rainy times of the year. the English times of the

Girl: this morning I woke up feeling so bad because I realized it had been over
two weeks since I moved out of the old apartment and I still hadn’t called to
give you my new number.
you are the monkey.

DeadLover: you are the hawk.

Girl: you are brevity.

DeadLover: you, elaboration.

Girl: you are lyric.

DeadLover: you are song.

Girl : where are you?

DeadLover: I’m in the hospital. I’m in room fourteen-oh-six.

Girl: and you’re there, but you’re sleeping. and we’re playing music for you.
you’re not making any sign that you hear it but you hear it, and you’re singing
along in your head. none of us are singing, though. we’re whispering to each
other and taking turns going up to you to lay our heads down next to yours.
that’s where my head is now, laying next to yours on that pillow. and I’m
holding your hand and I’m brushing your cheek with my fingers. and touching your
hair. and I’m whispering to you in your ear.

DeadLover : what are you

Girl: may. oceans. savor. breezes. for. you. brilliant. yesterday. I. am.
building. an. eternity. from. my. impressions.

Girl: oh, I love kissing you.

DeadLover: actually, I love kissing you, too.

Girl: oh, really?

DeadLover: uh hmm, a lot.

Girl: remember that first long kiss we had? we couldn’t stop.

DeadLover: ohhhh, and I remember our very first kiss was…

Girl: delicate, and…

DeadLover: yeah.

Girl: yeah, that was wonderful.

DeadLover: I like that second one, too…

Girl: yeah.

DeadLover: and that first night, coming home from the dance club, I was like, I
think she likes me and I really hope she likes me, but I wasn’t sure…

Girl: oh!

DeadLover: and then we kissed…

Girl: oh, that’s so cute…

DeadLover: my goodness, I was so nervous.

Girl: oh!…I always thought you were cute…awww…that’s so cute.

DeadLover: I hope she likes me I hope she likes me. I hope she likes me the
same way I like her…and then we kissed…

Girl: awww…hold me.

Boyfriend: you’re not with me.

Girl: I’m just thinking about…

Boyfriend: tell me what you’re thinking.

Girl: I’m thinking about when we met.

Boyfriend: when was that?

Girl: college.

Boyfriend: debt.

Girl: credit cards.

Boyfriend: credit system.

Girl: debt system.

Boyfriend: debt ratio.

Girl: p/e ratio.

Boyfriend: rising.

Girl: falling.

Boyfriend: market.

Girl: model.

Boyfriend: cheating.

Girl: learning.

Boyfriend: writing.

Girl: composing.

Boyfriend: performing.

Girl: opera.

Boyfriend: arias.

Girl: songs.

Boyfriend: songs?

Girl : songs. the songs in my
head. play too loud. I can’t think. one minute I’m a genius, the next I am an
idiot. I feel I am barely maintaining certain elements of my life, like my job
and relationships with people, while I advance other elements in huge strides
overnight. this month I have finished twenty six paintings, made ten drawings,
and mixed five songs. I toggle between wanting to stop all progress in my life
and trying to move on. between grotesque transfixion on you and transcendent
obliviousness. on the whole I hate people more than I ever have before, but I
tolerate and occasionally enjoy the company of my close friends. I am
monstrously critical. I see every flaw and inconsistency available in the
idiotic behaviors of others and me. more and more all I have to say to people
is, don’t you realize how stupid you are? but more and more I censor my critical
anger and say nothing at all, even to people I care about. these are not my
problems. it is not my duty to help. I used to be the host, helping everyone I
know feel at home when they are with me. I am less hospitable now. I am not here
to entertain. I am not even here to exert a reasonable level of respect. in the
past tarot readings consistently turned up the hanged man card to describe me,
one who has such mental mastery of the world, such clear understanding of it,
that it hinders his ability to actually live. in the card he has suspended
himself by his feet, and hangs looking at the world upside down. now my reading
is twofold. to characterize me, the card devil’s play, the most diabolic passion
and creativity. divine playfulness. lack of inhibition. irreverence.
originality. spontaneity. self declared freedom. laughing away my fears and
sorrows. dancing to my success. and then I pull a second card, asking, what is
the seed, what is the basis for this devil’s play? the card I pull is sorrow.

Boyfriend: you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. this is going to take a
long time to go through. in some ways… in some ways you’ll be going through
this for the rest of your life. it will get better. I promise it will get
better. but it will always be a part of your life. what have you been eating?

Girl: low fat butter.

Boyfriend: Parkay!

Girl: butter.

Boyfriend: paraplegics.

Girl: paraplegics?!

Boyfriend: mmm…yummy with butter. paraplegics.

Girl: veterans.

Boyfriend: hippies.

Girl: boomers.

Boyfriend: republican.

Girl: affair.

Boyfriend: scandal.

Girl: cover up.

Boyfriend: J.F.K.

Girl: Marilyn Monroe.

Boyfriend: fucking Madonna.

Girl: I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to stay up all night talking with

DeadLover: I love this.

Girl: so do I.

DeadLover: and the great thing is, after tonight, we’ll have tomorrow…and the
day after…

Girl: a section of brick walkway lined with young trees whose branches merge
into a canopy completely covering me. leaves from above collect on the bricks. I
walk this tunnel wishing I had frog or spider eyes and could see in all
directions at once, pained knowing that whatever beauty I choose to admire
jealously holds me in its fidelity, and I am incapable of looking elsewhere.
soon it will be winter, and there will be no leaves, but only black and white,
dirt and sky lie together. I’ve been thinking about things in new ways lately,
realizing how my mind proceeds and tweaking that, rearranging the wordless logic
of each moment. I went camping this weekend and had the most deeply moving
spiritual experience of my life. the only way I can talk about it is to say that
I danced with a hawk. the next day I laughed and cried and screamed and sang all
at once. I laughed behind all, beyond all, laughed like the bottom of the ocean.
I find myself more and more at home in diverse portions of the world, and
simultaneously becoming less and less compatible with other portions, to the
extent that I hardly need to converse with some of it in order to fully
understand, and I have absolutely no need or desire to converse with other
portions of it in order to know that I can never understand at all… I feel
more and more in love and more and more alone as life goes on.

Boyfriend: where did you go, just then? where are you?

: I’m just laying here, and the waves… the waves are washing
over and over and over…

Girl, vo: time. noun. now. the present as distinguished from the past or

Girl: I remember waking up and seeing your face in the sunlight. I remember
sleeping with you on the roof in summer rain. I remember hearing you breathe. I
remember kissing your neck and feeling your fingers slide along my back. I
remember you saying my name. I remember that party. the dance club. the thrift
store. our English walks. that night I drove you home. I remember our first
kiss. so delicate. so slow…

Girl: time. verb. measure of how long something takes. to measure or record the
duration, ratio, or speed of something.

DeadLover: you can say we were making love and that gives a general idea of
what’s going on. you can say it was good, but what really happened is that you
were laying in the front seat of your car with your head against the door and
your legs spread. you were rubbing your clitoris with your fingers and my dick
was inside of your body. you were gasping, I was moaning, or grunting or
something, and we both cum rushing with various juices, catching each other like
the rhythm of a train, I’m looking at your face, your mouth is open, your
forehead lines rising like a chevron, your fingernails digging into the small of
my back. is that making love? is that desire? is that happiness? some people
would interpret it as happiness. some people would see it as an achievement, a
score. some would feel that they had gained power over another human being. some
would feel ashamed, or guilty if they had attached the idea of moral wrongness
to these acts. I think I would call it joy. I would feel a great sense of
connection. and love. so I say I am joyful, and I say I am in love, but what
does that mean? what does that equate to? well, it equates to having your head
pressed up against the passenger door of your car, it equates to having your
legs spread, it equates to feeling my dick inside your body. it equates to
gasping. it equates to moaning. it equates to grunting. it equates to rushing
with juice. it equates to seeing your face when you cum. it equates to feeling
your fingernails cut into the small of my back. it equates to falling, at the
end, tired and sweaty in each other’s arms.

Actor A: you’re so full of shit.

Actor B: do you really mean that?

Actor A: no. I want to fuck you and all you want to do is screw around.

Actor B: so what’s the problem?

Actor A: forget it.

Actor B: I’m just kidding.

Actor A: I’m tired of kidding. I want adulting.

Actor B: I’m not in the mood for adulting.

Actor A: I know.

Actor B: you have me down.

Actor A: yeah. I do. … I’ll be out with the girls.

Actor B: I’ll be right here…

Girl, vo: time. verb. set the time of something. to regulate or set the time of
something such as a clock or a train’s schedule.

Coffee Shop Server Boy: I dreamt I lied to you. I dreamt I had sex with a

Coffee Shop Server Girl: did you like it?

Coffee Shop Server Boy: why do you need to know that?

Coffee Shop Server Girl: you did like it then.

Coffee Shop Server Boy: of course I did. … what did you dream?

Coffee Shop Server Girl: that you lied to me.

Girl, vo: time. noun. playing period. a period of play in a game.

Coffee Shop Server Girl: I dream of negligence nagging me past tense. of
writers and fame and parties where I stood on the rim.

Girl, vo: time. noun. military service. a term of military service.
time. noun. period worked. the period during a day or week that somebody works.
working half time.
time. noun. pay. a rate of pay.
paid double time.
time. noun. geologic division. a chronologic division of geologic history.
time. verb. stay in rhythm. to keep time to a rhythmical or musical beat. old
English tima, period of time from a prehistoric Germanic base meaning, to
extend, which is also the ancestor of English tide.
all in good time.
no sooner than is appropriate. all the time.
time. noun. geologic division. a chronologic division of geologic history.
time. verb. stay in rhythm. to keep time to a rhythmical or musical beat. old
English tima, period of time from a prehistoric Germanic base meaning, to
extend, which is also the ancestor of English tide.
all in good time.
no sooner than is appropriate. all the time.
continuously. at one time.
at a time in the past.
simultaneously. at the same time.
nevertheless. at times.
sometimes. behind the times.
out of touch with modern fashions, methods, or attitudes. for the time being.
for a short period of time starting from now. from time to time.
occasionally. have no time for somebody or something.
to regard somebody or something with dislike or contempt. have the time of your
to have a very enjoyable experience. in good time.
early enough. we were in time for the concert. in time.
after some time has passed. he’ll understand in time that you were trying to
help him. in time.
in the correct rhythm. clapping in time to the music. in your own time.
at a speed or pace that feels natural or comfortable. keep time.
to show the time accurately. keep time.
to do something in the correct rhythm, or in the same rhythm as somebody or
something else. live on borrowed time.
to enjoy an unexpected extension of life. make time with somebody.
informal. to pursue somebody as a sexual partner. on time.
at the scheduled time. on your own time.
not during work hours. pass the time of day with somebody.
to engage in casual conversation with somebody. take your time.
to take whatever time is necessary. take your time.
to do something unacceptably slowly. time after time. time and time again.

Disney A: I dream of sex.

Disney B: I guess you do.

Disney A: I dream of strawberries and hot tubs and chocolate and ice. I dream
of lace and panties and bras. I dream of sweat and showers.

Disney B: I dream of undressing myself for you. I dream of riding you like a
horse. fucking you. licking your ears, sucking your dick.

Disney A: I dream of feathers and cotton.

Disney B: I dream of tickling you with my hair.

Disney A: I dream of here and there.

Disney B: I dream, I dream, I dream…

Coffee Shop Server Girl: you’re a cutie.

Coffee Shop Server Boy: you’re a demon.

Coffee Shop Server Girl: you’re so hot.

Coffee Shop Server Boy: stop.

Coffee Shop Server Girl: why?

Coffee Shop Server Boy: okay, keep going.

Coffee Shop Server Girl: why am I a demon?

Coffee Shop Server Boy: it’s not a bad thing. I call my favorite girl satan.

Coffee Shop Server Girl: I’m not your favorite girl? how come I’m not satan?
how come I’m only a demon?

Coffee Shop Server Boy: you’ve still got your clothes on. you’re still pretty
much on your side of the room. how can you be anything more than a demon?

Coffee Shop Server Girl: well, I just got here…give me a second…

Coffee Shop Server Boy: take five.

Girl, vo: time. noun. timeout.

DeadLover : nibble.
succulent. psychedelic. mold.

Girl: organic post clinical psychotherapy.

Boyfriend: Woody Allen movies.

Girl: prescription drug abuse.

Boyfriend: depression.

Girl: mania.

Boyfriend: insanity.

Girl: antisociality.

Boyfriend: perverse eccentricities.

Girl: senile dementia.

Boyfriend: health insurance.

Girl: co-payments.

Boyfriend: hypochondria.

Girl: disease envy.

Boyfriend: coping fantasies.

Girl: coping strategy.

Boyfriend: the overboard.

Girl: the underground.

Boyfriend: suits in porno shacks.

Girl: masters of the universe.

Boyfriend: Tom…?

Girl: Wolfe.

Boyfriend: Wolfe.

Girl: vampire.

Boyfriend: gladiators.

Girl: talk shows.

Boyfriend: L.A.

Girl: Athens.

Boyfriend: Rome.

Girl: Carthage.

Girl, vo: Carthage. noun. site of an ancient city, founded by the Phoenicians
on the northern coast of Africa in eight fourteen b.c.

FairyGodMother: soldiers returning from battle, wheelchair bound, destined for
the psych wards, damned to wander civilization’s peacetime misplaced, crippled
heroes dosed with Thorazine, Zoloft dinner partners popping pill compartments at
the roadside diner. violence, as the technological pill eclipses its own
pharmacist, and the elite behave inhumanly, while the reflexive murder
perpetrated among the mass of the poor makes them more understandable, more
sensible, less prone to induce the tones of hell than the lonely parasite they

Girl, vo: parasite. noun. organism living on another. a plant or animal that
lives on or in another, usually larger host organism in a way that harms or is
of no advantage to the host. time. noun. instance. a separate occasion of a
recurring event. I told you three times.

Girl: looking at clocks is a fairly recent thing for me. I look at the clock
six times each night before I go to bed. I look at the clock eight times in the
morning when my alarm goes off. if someone asks me what time it is, I look at my
watch twice before I tell them what time it is. then I look at my watch three
more times, looking away in-between each glance, and then I usually tell the
person what time it is again, by that time it’s usually the next minute and if
it is I tell the person the new time. my watch shows the seconds but when
people ask me what time it is I don’t tell them the seconds, because most people
don’t really care all that much about the seconds. the seconds are everything.
eight fifty-seven and forty-nine seconds is a completely different animal than
eight fifty-seven and thirty- two seconds. thirty-two seconds is maybe roundable
to thirty seconds, thirty-two seconds is maybe roundable to thirty-three or
thirty-five seconds. forty-nine seconds is almost fifty and fifty is almost a
minute. you could never round forty-nine seconds down to forty-five, it just
wouldn’t make sense, you’re already there, you’re at fifty, you’re practically
through with the minute. when I’m at fifty-nine seconds I’m already at five or
ten after. fifty-nine is over by the time you think about it, thinking about
fifty-nine at fifty-nine is basically a moot point, you know, you might as well
start planning on the next ten or fifteen seconds, at least five, just to give
yourself a heads up. most of the time when I’m on fifty-nine I’m already at
twenty again, but, but, as I was saying my obsession with actually looking at
the numbers on clocks is a fairly recent thing. when I was a kid I used to go
out on the street and throw clocks down on the asphalt and take hammers and
smash them into little bits when I was a kid I would take clocks apart, you see?

DeadLover: you are madness.

Girl: you are gall.

Girl, vo: eight fifty-seven a.m. carbon and bullshit goes to the beach. eight
fifty-seven a.m. tired of looking at my watch, but apparently unable to break
the habit with thought alone, I enact a foolproof solution which I have been
considering for some time. time. noun. prison term. a term in prison. informal.
serve time for robbery.

PT A: you are the criminal.

PT B: I am the crime.

PT A: you are subliminal.

PT B: I am sublime.

PT A: you are the beat.

PT B: I am the beat. I carry you forth. I strike your heart. I entrance your
ability to breathe until your life is a pebble in my phantom hand.

PT A: you are a phantom.

PT B: I am the phantasm. I walk among flesh, screech as the wind. I take on any
form that makes me laugh and my laugh is your thunder, siphon crushing shores of
sand and cyclones searing waves of grain. my laugh is the terror you feel upon
waking from a dream. my laugh is sheets of salty rain beating on tin. my laugh
is ancient ruin, statues cast in blood screaming at you in a tongue composed of
clicks and babbles, whispering at you in a spiral you can never catch, slicing
you open again with the knife you just handed me, scratching your eyes out with
nails, disarming you, birthing you, bleeding you like a gutter.

PT A: beat.

PT B: beat.

PT A: beat. beat.

PT B: beat. beat.

Girl, vo: time. noun. musical beat. the number of beats per measure of a
musical composition.

PT B: you are the tower.

PT A: I am a column of fire with wings.

PT B: you are the phoenix. you rise.

PT A: like an angel.

PT B: like inferno.

PT A: like a mushroom. Hiroshima.

Teen A: I bet I can make a card house that’s five hundred stories tall.

Teen B: I bet I can write a book for every letter in the alphabet.

Teen A: I bet I can hold my breath for six minutes.

Teen B: I bet I can make an ice cube out of a hairdryer.

Teen A: I bet I can add up all the numbers from one to five hundred in my head.

Teen B: I bet I can train a worm to sing.

Teen A: I bet I can pick up a car with my bear hands and lift it above my head.

Teen B: I bet I can swallow a snake.

Teen A: I bet I can make a bus fly like a bird.

Teen B: I bet I can write a poem that will make you cry.

Teen A: I bet I can lead a revolution.

Teen B: I bet I can predict your future.

Teen A: I bet I can make you cum, twice, just by breathing in your ear.

Teen B: I bet you can.

Teen A: I bet I can make a train travel faster than light.

Teen B: I bet I can write eight hundred symphonies by the time I’m thirty.

Teen A: I bet I can paint the world on the tip of a needle.

Teen B: I bet I can eat eighteen boxes of macaroni and cheese in half an hour.

Teen A: I bet I can memorize the first one hundred thousand digits of pi.

Teen B: I bet I can make a machine out of sand that will add and subtract.

Teen A: I bet I can make it add, subtract, multiply, and divide.

Teen B: I bet I can make it do formulas.

Teen A: I bet I can make it recognize fingerprints.

Teen B: I bet I can make it beat you in chess.

Teen A: I bet I can make it think. I can also make it so small that it fits in
the palm of your hand.

Teen B: I can make it so small you can’t even see it.

Teen A: I can make…a bomb…out of a single atom…that can destroy the
entire universe.

Teen B: you’re such a freak.

Girl, vo: freak. noun. strikingly unusual person, animal, plant. a person,
animal, or plant that is strikingly unusual, and appears to be unique or occurs
very rarely. somebody unconventional. somebody who behaves unusually or has
unusual tastes or habits.

Teen A: Baryshnikov.

Teen B: Michael Jackson.

Teen A: Picasso.

Teen B: Busta Rhymes.

Teen A: Shakespeare.

Teen B: Feynman.

Teen A: Derrida.

Teen B: John Lennon.

Teen A: Trent Reznor.

Teen B: Tori Amos.

Teen A: Madonna.

Teen B: Basquiat.

Teen A: fucking Warhol.

Teen B: fucking Warhol. … Jesus.

Teen A: Malcom X.

Teen B: Joan of Arc.

Teen A: Queen Elizabeth.

Teen B: Lincoln.

Teen A: Orville and Wilbur Wright.

Teen B: Turing.

Teen A: Mozart.

Teen B: Mozart.

Teen A: checkmate.

DeadLover : checkmate. noun. winning position in chess. a move or
position in chess, in which a player’s king cannot escape check and the other
player wins the game. do you know how many definitions of time there are in the

Girl: how many?

DeadLover: I don’t know. … I stopped reading after sixty two.

Girl: time. noun. a dimension enabling two identical events occurring in the
same point in space to be distinguished…by measuring the interval between the

DeadLover: time. in one second a bullet from a gun travels three thousand feet.

Girl: in one second a particle of light travels one hundred and eighty-six
thousand miles.

DeadLover: according to the Big Bang Theory our universe expanded from
something smaller than a piece of dust to approximately its present size in a
tiny fraction of a second.

Girl: that first second is always the longest one.

DeadLover: that second before you start to wake up.

Girl: me. this is not me. I’m not here. I’m not hearing this. I don’t have to
do this I never meant to come here I hate it here I’m never coming back I don’t
know why you think this is necessary I can’t be seen no one can see me I don’t
know what they’re doing I’ve never been to one of these before I didn’t know it
would be like this it’s not what I imagined I wish it wasn’t I wish it wasn’t I
can’t fathom how they’d feel that way they should hate me they should hate me
want me dead they should kill me and want me in jail they should try to make me
hurt they should kill me they should kill me but they don’t have to I will kill
myself so they don’t have to look at me I will kill myself so they won’t have to
think about me anymore, I will kill myself so I won’t have to think anymore, I
will kill myself to make it even kill myself to make it even kill myself to make
it even.

DeadLover : everything. everything is happening.

Girl: dreaming in bed at eight a.m. rolling over and the covers coming off my
head. cold. the door is closing and my roommate leaves for work. I’m burying my
head in the blankets, trying to keep my ears warm, but I can’t. the sun is
coming in higher through the window and the mailbox is opening and closing.
someone’s coming by later to fix the sink and I’m hitting snooze for the
fiftieth time and I’m looking at the seconds, and they just keep coming, faster
and faster and-

Ash’s arrangement of Carbon and Bullshit