days in the life pulsing with the vital essence of a thousand neutron stars

Posted in Uncategorized on March 28, 2015 by furious buddha

Sometimes there’s nothing here because all the different thoughts get bottled up fighting to squeeze out first and then there’s Censorius Rex looming over there with his wicked blade murdering most of the ones that slip out. Blogging has served as a kind of notebook for me for the better part of the past twenty years; I used to work ideas for my standup and sketches which is why my older stuff has such a ranty feel to it, (And I think it is the wont of young men to rant; it gives the illusion that they have something interesting to say.) And then I sit here at the keyboard, tell myself to pop the cork and get the censor drunk, and I have nothing. It’s Saturday night and I don’t feel like politics or anything right now.  Little dude is sleeping in the next room. Julia is out with friends for one of their birthdays. I’m watching Archer. It’s hilarious.

I’m working on paintings. I’m starting a theater company. I’m writing a novel. But tonight I’m enjoying a pot of green tea and watching cartoons.

Bon Jour France!

Posted in Uncategorized on March 28, 2015 by furious buddha

I was just checking in and I noticed that for some reason I am getting a ton of traffic from France today. Vive France!

I’m going to go have breakfast. I will write something this weekend…

Love y’all


spring snow angel

Posted in days in the life, poetry on March 23, 2015 by furious buddha

the moon marks the sun
in spectacular eclipse
the seasons progress

the grey march passes
through fresh snow and freezing rain
the broken sky weeps

in the crack’d earth seeds
shudder in grateful release
drinking heavens tears

My Photographic Memory of Leonard Nimoy (It Is Illogical To Shed Tears for Mr. Spock)

Posted in Uncategorized on March 7, 2015 by furious buddha

The first time I ever cried in a movie theater was at the end of ‘Wrath of Khan'; I was twelve and my innocence died with Mr. Spock. Mr. Spock was my hero. I related to his struggle to master his emotions with logic; I aspired to his calm intellect and steadfast courage. He has always felt more like a real person to me than a half-Vulcan from the 23rd Century should have a right to; the humanity of Mr. Spock is a result of the masterful artistry of Leonard Nimoy who has sadly passed from the world. It may actually be easier to understand how I feel about what Nimoy embodied by tasting this nugget of thought that is just dripping with queen jelly grade ironic honey by Matthew Continetti of the conservative Washington Free Beacon explaining why he cannot mourn for Mr. Nimoy. (Hint: It’s because Obama.) It’s good stuff; he’s a Star Trek fan like the fan from Nirvana’s ‘In Bloom’ who ‘likes all our pretty songs and he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun but he don’t know what it means when I sing.’

I was in the same room with Mr. Nimoy twice. The first time was back in the early 90’s when he and William Shatner went on a speaking tour for the 25th anniversary of the beginning of the show, so that must have been ’92. I think it was at the U of I Pavillion but I’m not sure; but the atmosphere was like a rock show. I remember feeling euphoric and joyful with the rest of the crowd. I was there with Persi and a couple of other friends; I think it might have been Lily and Dr Gargunza but I could be mistaken as I also think Wulf and Kay may have been there which is possible because there were more than four of us. I bought a metal Enterprise insignia badge that now is sitting in a shadowbox with other objects of memory.

The second time was Lily’s gift to me, delivered the day before my 32nd birthday on a rainy slate November Saturday afternoon in 2001 in the lecture hall at the Art Institute of Chicago where we sat with a few dozen other people and watched Leonard Nimoy deliver a lecture on his photography. His work embraced unconventional aspects of feminine beauty and contained a spiritual aesthetic (Here is an example of it but be warned it is nude photography that is NSFW) that resonated with me genuinely. After the lecture he took some questions and then nobody else raised their hand and he said thank you and gentle but enthusiastic applause washed into a susurrus of jostling for umbrellas and hushed debates over where to get drinks. Mr. Nimoy stood in a bubble of stillness and seemed uncertain as to what was coming next so I grabbed Lily by the hand and moved forward a few steps onto the rostrum and extended my hand, thanking him warmly for the lecture. He took it with a smile and thanked me; his voice resonated with a physical presence and his hand was strong, enveloping mine. I didn’t have to struggle to resist an urge to ask him about the tv show or to tell him how much it meant to me; I knew he heard that all the time. Instead, I admired his compositional choices and subject; then we briefly talked about how he was seeking to express the female aspects of the Divine in his work. I got to talk to him visual artist to visual artist and as spiritual seeker to spiritual seeker; there really couldn’t have been anything better. It was probably ninety seconds but it felt like twenty minutes. It inspired me more than I can express.

Oh Lily, why is it that so many of the best days of my life are thanks to you?

im still here

Posted in Uncategorized on February 17, 2015 by furious buddha

I’m sorry for the lack of updates. I’ve been writing a thing for the Clown Factory so I’ve been on discipline which means no blogging until I finish the thing.

But I snuck away to whisper to you.

Little dude got tubes in his ears a couple of weeks ago. There has never been an experience in my life like watching him wheeled away to surgery. On any given day it’s like watching my heart running around on chubby toddler legs but this was a whole new level of vulnerable. It was quick and went without a hitch and he has responded beautifully; he has been playing with his piano every night since.

I have to go back to work. May your Tuesday be fat.


The Problem With Chomsky #NoamChomsky

Posted in arguing with lunatics, current events, philosophy, politics, race, religion on January 21, 2015 by furious buddha


I read the Noam Chomsky essay you suggested and I’m glad I did as it makes clear to me that my political disagreements with him are profound and foundational even while we share many opinions. His arguments are academic and prove themselves through their own logic while ignoring the pragmatic messiness of reality; it is easy to fix the world on a chalkboard. This isn’t to say that he makes bad points but rather that he is arguing from a perspective that holds to an ideal that I don’t agree with because I find it unrealistic.

Actually, he does make bad points. In comparing the behavior of the West regarding the Charlie Hebdo attacks, he recalls the NATO attack on Serb RTV (the Serbian National Radio and Television station) which killed 16 journalists and he complains that the only person prosecuted for their deaths was the station manager, a man named Dragoljub Milanović, who failed to evacuate the building. What Chomsky doesn’t mention is that it was documented in court that Milanovic ordered the journalists to stay in the building because they had been warned by NATO the building was a target; the genocidal regime of Slobodan Milosevic wanted their deaths to be used as propaganda against NATO action in Serbia. This is the problem I have with liberal academics who would rather win an obtuse argument than reduce actual human suffering; in order for Chomsky to be right, there can be no ethical difference between the NATO action against Serb RTV and the attack on Charlie Hebdo by what is apparently a terrorist cell backed by Al Qaeda in Yemen. This is a patently absurd position that can only be taken seriously by someone so in love with their own intellect that it never occurs to them that their pontifications may not actually be infallible.

This is not to say that he doesn’t have a point about the violence we wreak about the world in order to keep ourselves propped up as a superpower; however, he just wrings his hands and cites himself rather than offer any insight beyond the United States and the West are just terrible racists who are terrible, just terrible. Slobodan Milosevic and his gang were committing genocide against Bosnian Muslims and we intervened on the side of the Muslims; how does that figure into his narrative? It doesn’t, so he doesn’t mention it. He neglects to mention that Serb RTV was broadcasting propaganda and information that was directly leading to the rapes, mutilation, and mass murder of the civilian Muslim population that NATO was trying to protect; all Chomsky does is weep academic tears for poor Dragoljub, who ordered his employees to stay in a building he knew was going to be bombed so that Milosevic could carry out his genocide in peace. The act of sanitizing a fact can make for sloppy reasoning.

This is why Chomsky’s essay is nothing more than a contrarian cry for attention; he tries to sharpen his point by burying it in bullshit which admittedly has been shat out quite eloquently, regardless, it is still a very poor method of tempering an argument. Noam Chomsky is a very intelligent man but he cannot contain the entire world within his head; the world is contradictory and complicated and refuses to obey the theories of academics who insist they can explain it all with a clever enough thesis. While I am absolutely open to and happy to participate in a critique of the moral hypocrisy of the West, his assertion that ‘our’ terrorism is equivalent to ‘their’ terrorism is a timid cliche’ masquerading as a bold statement that should only be taken seriously by sophomores after their third bong hit. This is not to say that liberal academia is useless but rather this is how it makes itself useless.

And don’t even get me started on Anarcho-Syndicalism…

It’s funny, because this is definitely one of those cases where my liberal friends think I’m a closet fascist even as my conservative ones think that I’m ready to collectivize Wall St.

I look forward to hearing from you. I miss you.


planting a seed

Posted in days in the life, poetry on January 15, 2015 by furious buddha

you witched me tonight
with a quick glimpse i blushed shy
charmed days in the life


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