electronic impulses from brain to fingers; directed? sometimes. random? always.
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Chinkie for life.
NorCal for life.
Bruin for life.
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Saturday, July 19, 2003
talking to my mother still makes me cry
doobin @ 12:47 PM
Monday, July 14, 2003
......
do you ever feel the pain inside that has no generation other than your own heart?
its as if jagged edged knives and poison tipped spears peered into the soul and snatched all hope with its eyes.
as if fear was an object of aggression, attacking my insides and leaving the remnants of strength to wither into weakened submission.
there were times when i saw the world for its golden light, blistering my sight with images of grandeur,
with sounds of otherwordly pleasures, with fables of the venerable past, dynamic now, excitingly unpredictable future.
there were times when stimulation was but a needle in a haystack of inspiration, an understatement to the things that moved me, to the things that came of me.
thought. conscious thought, both a gift and a curse but a world unto itself and all I can do is think about how thought has given me freedom in a thoughtless place, how it has replaced the world around me. it has become the world within me, infinite in its reach, neverending in its growth and potential,
and yet I feel trapped by its own limitations.
only when i think do i stop feeling. and only when i think do i not feel.
only when i think does the world stand still, yet only when i think does the world pass me by.
the seas of success lap at my ankles like unsuspecting dogs; its waters move toward the center of its phrase, its syntactical origin and yet my damned inabilities and insecurities prove more than a wall to scale from both sides. so there is nothing to do but crash. to hide away in a fiery blackness where life is hidden by my own fruitful wishing. the accomplishment of oceanic tranquility is attacked, torn asunder by the liquid thunder of a typhoon swirling with unsure chaos, and all things that stood tall once before, are beheaaded by my troubles, reduced to thoughtless rubble until they are no more.
do the heart's pillars ever feel the weight of their own symbolism? it feels like vesuvius has become enraged by the pitfalls of failed metallurgy, and haephestus himself is spitting atomic fire from the mouth of the earth, upset by the mangling of his unfinished work, and all roads leading to the happiness of euphoria wine and the architecture of passion's life will be engulfed by the fumes of disbelief and discourage found in the form of death-bringing relief paintings.
to feel the fire that burns all worlds anew would be like touching the wings of silverado angels whose form is outlined by prisms of a newborn's first vision. and here i am only seeing the gold lining under the charcoal exhaust of mechanized regulatory living.
if the feeling of helplessness + despair + failure + disenchantment had a name it would be 'unfortunate' because the only future who's fortune remains unclear is that second pristine lifetime of the personified objectification of fear.
......
doobin @ 3:45 PM
materialism as happiness
......
picked these up couple days ago. fuckin sweet.
ZXZ Advanced
picture does not show my own touches.
...
got a matching (by colors) jacket on ebay too.
......
right so thats really worth mentioning here right?
doobin @ 1:18 PM
is there anything left to do but think to myself?
its like now i don't even want to hear this voice come out. whatsup with that.
......
i had an interview with URB magazine wednesday, the highlight of my week. with grand help from MTA.net's trip planner I coordinated a smooth trip from my house to some part of LA i don't even know the district of. the ride itself was great, was able to hitch the ride all the way down Santa Monica.
you can take the 4E or 304E to hit Spundae!
Next door to Circus, there is a lumber yard!
the next block there is an army/camping surplus store!
along Santa Monica, there is a small Russian string of stores and establishments!
I'm not even sure how far exactly I travelled ... at one point I hit Sunset/Sanborn and thats where I got off to take the next bus.. but when i got there I found a middle-aged latina woman waiting for the same bus, and we came across the conclusion 9well.. via the bus schedule ;/) that the bus we needed didn't operate for the time we were waiting for. So I found out that the URB office was a mile away and I walked it.
[Hyperion reminds me of some parts in Mission, where my dad owned residential property. one building was a house, the other was used as a nail salon.]
along the way to the office, i saw a mysterious and intriguing road Lyric Avenue, that led up a hill into trees. I couldn't see the path up the hill more than 20 feet before the jungle took it over, and man am I still curious. passed by and double taked and then went inside a nice little boutique with Japanese furniture (there were some really nice crafted wooden walls/room dividers/changing screens) but everything was BANK. sorry i don't quite have the money to decorate like that. someday.. but for now i'm stickin with the bookshelf as coffee table. also there was a skateshop out of a one car garage. looked tight and full of cool shit to browse but i didn't get a chance to talk to the 50's old gentleman.
the interview.. was cool. essentially it was just talking and I was just flowin in conversation being honest with my speech. however i do see that i was a bit serious in my language and maybe even too contemplative and collected in terms of how i looked. I know I wasn't hella bouncin off the walls, but i was energetic about the whole day period. but more than anything i know how i conducted myself was so indicative of my pensive mood as of late.. i've been relatively alone/independent and not exactly able to exercise goofiness.. its funny how that works. when you're with people... yeah you don't have to think, you just do and feel whatever and be a goof, but when by yourself, its like the only person you can talk to is yourself.
how do i retain my extroverted energy without losing it to introspection?
I found out exactly what the job was, which would be the sole organizer for promotions and representation of URB on the Sprite Liquid Mix tour (featuring N*E*R*D, the Roots, Talib Kweli, OAR). I would have subordinates pulled out of local areas for the tour, and would basically be spreading URB to the masses. yea apparently all the 'candidates' had experience in this type of shit. and I should've played it off better that I had the ideas for it. well, i DO have the ideas for it and she learned that when she posed me with hypotheticals (and actuals). but anyway, I began to question more about becoming a writer and photographer for something like URB, and got some insight into that. keep trying, keep writing, keep experimenting, keep trying to hone the craft, thats what i can conclude.
I then took another hour bus ride to Mer's place in Venice for a modern dinner. i was drowsy from the long day (i hadn't slept during the night, by the way) and i missed the stop for Mer's place, and while i was waiting for the next stop after it.. i remember thinking "FUCK thats a long while to the next stop." but i made it, and it was alllllll good from then on. love the company.
......
i notice more questioning as of late, on people's blogs.. or at least, reflection, evaluation, conclusion. good. i think this place should be one of self-discovery, self-establishment. but sometimes.. I come out of sessions with more questions than before.
why am i prone to the moods I get? the spats of laziness, inactivity, stagnation, disinterest.. and the sparks of inspiration, spirit, passion..
why can't I blaze up those sparks? or do i have to blaze up first? is it a productivity thing? its like i am forcing dependency on others to motivate me. was i always this way? this fuckin is weak man.. i just know that even life is too responsible for me sometimes.
and meanwhile materialism seems to replace what i'm missing.. it FEELS like it at least. powerful shit indeed, but it only perpetuates it. oh that and video games. i'm not even into the story, i just want to go mindless! man..
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peace.
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doobin @ 1:09 PM
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