The heater in my car doesn't work.
I have the hiccups, in addition to my ongoing hacking cough.
Cats are still inside. Beasley went out for about 45 seconds. Someone ate the cat food on the porch while I was at work, but I see no prints in the snow.
Pinto beans and corn bread for lunch and again at dinner at the RC, which closed early this evening due to inclement weather.
I'm sitting here wrapped in a blanket thinking I'd like one of those hooded wool meditation cloaks they sell on some of the yuppie Buddhist web sites. I'm cold.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Watching the weather
KOCO is reporting on its web site that there's a quarter-inch of ice on trees in Shawnee, and ice accumulations up to four inches may occur in some parts of the state by morning.
Where I am, just outside the bubble (or just inside, depending on how you feel about May Avenue) there is... nothing.
Looking at the radar, it seems we might get lucky and keep it that way.
Time for bed.
All cats are in, except for Gimp, who's been gone several days and is probably at the cat lady's house across the street, and Butthead, who must be holed up somewhere. I'd let 'em both in tonight if they were around, but they aren't.
Where I am, just outside the bubble (or just inside, depending on how you feel about May Avenue) there is... nothing.
Looking at the radar, it seems we might get lucky and keep it that way.
Time for bed.
All cats are in, except for Gimp, who's been gone several days and is probably at the cat lady's house across the street, and Butthead, who must be holed up somewhere. I'd let 'em both in tonight if they were around, but they aren't.
Buddhist podcasts
I have so many dharma talks and similar items on my computer now that I'll never be able to listen to them all. I've thought about getting an iPod just to have a way to play them all while at work or sitting around at the Red Cup. But I am resistant to spending money on yet another consumer gadget.
I started with the Alan Watts talks John X tipped me to a couple of weeks ago. I had read many of his books, of course, but hearing his voice was fascinating... just a very relaxing, yet engaging speaking style. People don't talk like that anymore - not in the Rush/Chris Matthews/Bill O'Reilly era. Which is too bad.
Although Watts was not a recognized Zen master, there are many people with proper 'Buddhist cred' whose work is available on the net. Several schools are represented. The podcast section of the iTunes Music Store has a wide selection (of course, you have to have Apple's iTunes to get them; it's free and there's a version for Windows)
Tricycle Magazine also has a free MP3 collection.
I started with the Alan Watts talks John X tipped me to a couple of weeks ago. I had read many of his books, of course, but hearing his voice was fascinating... just a very relaxing, yet engaging speaking style. People don't talk like that anymore - not in the Rush/Chris Matthews/Bill O'Reilly era. Which is too bad.
Although Watts was not a recognized Zen master, there are many people with proper 'Buddhist cred' whose work is available on the net. Several schools are represented. The podcast section of the iTunes Music Store has a wide selection (of course, you have to have Apple's iTunes to get them; it's free and there's a version for Windows)
Tricycle Magazine also has a free MP3 collection.
Flash animation
I lack both the time and the temperament to do much with Flash animation. Although the results are often impressive, Flash is very time-intensive compared to other forms of web design.
Here are a couple of Flash-based web pages I like.
In both cases, they attempt to explain fairly abstract ideas with animation.
The first one is www.perceivingreality.com, which is operated by a Kabbalah group, the Ashlag Research Institute. I make no claims or endorsement for Kabbalah, but I think the approach to the subject matter is interesting. Has a bit of a 'What the Bleep Do We Know?' feel to it.
The second one is www.tenthdimension.com, which attempts to explain string theory to us non-physicists. Creator Rob Bryanton is not a physicist himself – he runs a recording/audio postproduction studio in Regina, Saskatchewan. Again, I make no endorsement of the content, but I find the approach interesting.
Here are a couple of Flash-based web pages I like.
In both cases, they attempt to explain fairly abstract ideas with animation.
The first one is www.perceivingreality.com, which is operated by a Kabbalah group, the Ashlag Research Institute. I make no claims or endorsement for Kabbalah, but I think the approach to the subject matter is interesting. Has a bit of a 'What the Bleep Do We Know?' feel to it.
The second one is www.tenthdimension.com, which attempts to explain string theory to us non-physicists. Creator Rob Bryanton is not a physicist himself – he runs a recording/audio postproduction studio in Regina, Saskatchewan. Again, I make no endorsement of the content, but I find the approach interesting.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Well, I'm up
I've been awakened twice overnight by strange dreams, one of them obliquely previous-career-related. That whole part of my life, 25 years long, was like stumbling around in a basement with the lights out, and I wish I could just excise the whole thing from my past and jump straight from college to about 2002.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Sunday random notes
I did very little that was productive this weekend. I feel no guilt or remorse about it. I have come to view relaxing as being at least equally productive as a lot of the more conventionally productive things I could have been doing.
I have been having another run of dreams pertaining to my former career. This has been going on for about two weeks. As is usually the case, these dreams are not set in any place where I actually worked, but rather in places that didn't exist in my waking life. I wonder what prompts these to occur when they do.
I didn't get out on so-called 'Black Friday' but couldn't help but notice how empty the streets seemed on Saturday and Sunday. At the intersection of NW Expwy and Penn, which is usually clogged with Penn Square Mall traffic this time of year, a police officer had been stationed this afternoon to make sure motorists didn't block the exit from the neighboring 50 Penn Place. But he had nothing to do but sit in his car: the street was almost devoid of traffic.
At Borders, dreary Christmas music (dreary to me, anyway) was playing. Dean Martin roasting chestnuts on an open fire. Christmas music in general depresses me.
Someone came in to the RC this evening and asked me for help with his WinXP laptop. He had installed Internet Explorer 7, and suddenly he couldn't connect to the Internet at all via wifi. I looked at it, and as best as I can tell, his computer is now unable to get DHCP information from routers. Only on Windows could installing a browser break DHCP. Well, at least I wasn't the one who broke it this time.
I have been having another run of dreams pertaining to my former career. This has been going on for about two weeks. As is usually the case, these dreams are not set in any place where I actually worked, but rather in places that didn't exist in my waking life. I wonder what prompts these to occur when they do.
I didn't get out on so-called 'Black Friday' but couldn't help but notice how empty the streets seemed on Saturday and Sunday. At the intersection of NW Expwy and Penn, which is usually clogged with Penn Square Mall traffic this time of year, a police officer had been stationed this afternoon to make sure motorists didn't block the exit from the neighboring 50 Penn Place. But he had nothing to do but sit in his car: the street was almost devoid of traffic.
At Borders, dreary Christmas music (dreary to me, anyway) was playing. Dean Martin roasting chestnuts on an open fire. Christmas music in general depresses me.
Someone came in to the RC this evening and asked me for help with his WinXP laptop. He had installed Internet Explorer 7, and suddenly he couldn't connect to the Internet at all via wifi. I looked at it, and as best as I can tell, his computer is now unable to get DHCP information from routers. Only on Windows could installing a browser break DHCP. Well, at least I wasn't the one who broke it this time.
Friday, November 24, 2006
The Friday roundtable
The regular session of the Friday roundtable convened at Galileo with BookemDanO, BobO, Tanner and myself present. Upon seeing that a quorum had not been reached, we adjourned and went our separate ways.
Where the hell was everyone?
Where the hell was everyone?
A flash from the past
Seven or so years ago, I read a book by a psychiatrist and self-help guru named David Viscott. (I had the impression from his bio that he was the person upon whom the Seattle incarnation of Frasier Crane was modeled.)
Viscott wrote in the particular book I read about how people sometimes see an object that sets in motion a line of thinking that suddenly leads to a new realization totally unrelated to the original stimulus. The incident he used as an example, as I recall, was a patient who was studying the storm shutters on a house and whose discursive thinking about those shutters led to a profound realization about the state of his own life and the origins thereof.
I am not a huge believer in the concept of 'recovered memories.'
But tonight, as I was reading this Charlotte Joko Beck book, I had a sudden flash basically unrelated to the book itself.
She was talking about how she had been mistreated by her parents. As I've mentioned before, at least in conversation, I had a pretty crappy childhood, but physical abuse was not part of the picture. But when I read that, I suddenly had this flash of my mother slapping me. Not hard -- she wasn't physically capable of that. But I had completely forgotten it, or blocked it from my mind, and certainly hadn't thought about it since I was a teenager.
It happened more than once, and I can't tell you what it was about. What I recall is that my mother's temper often flared for reasons completely incomprehensible to me.
I could say something completely innocuous (like "What's for dinner?") and get a slap in response. More frequently, she would scream, "Don't you talk to me in that totem voice!" I had no idea what "totem voice" meant, and if I asked her what she meant -- well, I guess that's when I got slapped.
(Years and years later, when I was in my late thirties, and my mother and I hadn't spoken in fifteen years or more, I saw Meredith Baxter in a TV movie shriek at her daughter, "Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice!!" and it suddenly dawned on me that's what my mother had been saying years before.
My mother also referred to Premium® brand saltine crackers as "Preermum" -- she had trouble enunciating, I guess.)
Over the course of my life, I would see people get slapped in movies or TV shows, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I knew what it felt like to be slapped, but I had forgotten that I had ever actually been slapped, and that it was my mother who had slapped me.
(My stepmother, too, on one odd occasion which I well remember, but that's another story.)
Again, I know that other people have suffered far worse treatment at the hands of their parents. The point of my story is not that I was physically abused, but that I had blocked this repeated event from my mind completely for decades, even during therapy, and that this one passage from this book, which fell into my hands through a series of events odd in itself, suddenly jarred this memory loose from wherever it had been stored in my brain.
What else happened that I don't remember?
(For example: the Christmas Carol 'Silent Night' fills me with dread, so much so that if I hear it in a store or shopping mall during this time of year, I have to leave. Back in 1998 or thereabouts, I asked my dad if he knew why that might be. The color drained from his face. There was a long pause, and he said, 'Well, I guess something that happened during your childhood.')
Viscott wrote in the particular book I read about how people sometimes see an object that sets in motion a line of thinking that suddenly leads to a new realization totally unrelated to the original stimulus. The incident he used as an example, as I recall, was a patient who was studying the storm shutters on a house and whose discursive thinking about those shutters led to a profound realization about the state of his own life and the origins thereof.
I am not a huge believer in the concept of 'recovered memories.'
But tonight, as I was reading this Charlotte Joko Beck book, I had a sudden flash basically unrelated to the book itself.
She was talking about how she had been mistreated by her parents. As I've mentioned before, at least in conversation, I had a pretty crappy childhood, but physical abuse was not part of the picture. But when I read that, I suddenly had this flash of my mother slapping me. Not hard -- she wasn't physically capable of that. But I had completely forgotten it, or blocked it from my mind, and certainly hadn't thought about it since I was a teenager.
It happened more than once, and I can't tell you what it was about. What I recall is that my mother's temper often flared for reasons completely incomprehensible to me.
I could say something completely innocuous (like "What's for dinner?") and get a slap in response. More frequently, she would scream, "Don't you talk to me in that totem voice!" I had no idea what "totem voice" meant, and if I asked her what she meant -- well, I guess that's when I got slapped.
(Years and years later, when I was in my late thirties, and my mother and I hadn't spoken in fifteen years or more, I saw Meredith Baxter in a TV movie shriek at her daughter, "Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice!!" and it suddenly dawned on me that's what my mother had been saying years before.
My mother also referred to Premium® brand saltine crackers as "Preermum" -- she had trouble enunciating, I guess.)
Over the course of my life, I would see people get slapped in movies or TV shows, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I knew what it felt like to be slapped, but I had forgotten that I had ever actually been slapped, and that it was my mother who had slapped me.
(My stepmother, too, on one odd occasion which I well remember, but that's another story.)
Again, I know that other people have suffered far worse treatment at the hands of their parents. The point of my story is not that I was physically abused, but that I had blocked this repeated event from my mind completely for decades, even during therapy, and that this one passage from this book, which fell into my hands through a series of events odd in itself, suddenly jarred this memory loose from wherever it had been stored in my brain.
What else happened that I don't remember?
(For example: the Christmas Carol 'Silent Night' fills me with dread, so much so that if I hear it in a store or shopping mall during this time of year, I have to leave. Back in 1998 or thereabouts, I asked my dad if he knew why that might be. The color drained from his face. There was a long pause, and he said, 'Well, I guess something that happened during your childhood.')
Just sayin'
If anything turns me into a libertarian, it will be my federally-mandated low-flush toilet.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I don't know how to pronounce 'tathagata'...
or most of the other Sanskrit, Pali, Chinese and Japanese words I've encountered whilst studying Buddhism. I just guess at them.
I had been pronouncing 'tathagata' tah-tha-GAH-tah, like it was Spanish or Italian, when, according to my Buddhist friend Jen, it's actually tah-THA-gah-tah.
Anyone who knows where on the Internets to find pronunciations of these words, post a comment.
I had been pronouncing 'tathagata' tah-tha-GAH-tah, like it was Spanish or Italian, when, according to my Buddhist friend Jen, it's actually tah-THA-gah-tah.
Anyone who knows where on the Internets to find pronunciations of these words, post a comment.
I'm pleased to say...
...that I sat for awhile tonight. A very short while, but at least it's a start.
I drove around some, looking for a place to eat where I could, because of my cold, enjoy some extended quiet and privacy. I saw an Asian restaurant open, and the Deep Fork Grill, and passed on both. Came home and nuked macaroni and cheese.
Don't feel sorry for me because I didn't have a big T'giving dinner. I had a generously-offered opportunity and I passed because of the sniffles and hacking cough.
I'm off tomorrow, and the Red Cup is open, so my life will return somewhat to normal.
I drove around some, looking for a place to eat where I could, because of my cold, enjoy some extended quiet and privacy. I saw an Asian restaurant open, and the Deep Fork Grill, and passed on both. Came home and nuked macaroni and cheese.
Don't feel sorry for me because I didn't have a big T'giving dinner. I had a generously-offered opportunity and I passed because of the sniffles and hacking cough.
I'm off tomorrow, and the Red Cup is open, so my life will return somewhat to normal.
Thanksgiving Day addendum
I'm also thankful Americans woke the $%#* up this fall and threw the bastards out.
Thanksgiving Day, 2006
No self-pity today, okay? I do have things for which to be thankful.
I have a home with no mortgage, a functioning car with no payments, decent if not high-fashion clothes to wear, music in the house all the time and incense as often as I want it. Which is about all I crave at this point.
I seem to spend slightly less money than I earn, which is good.
My mutual fund savings and especially my IRA have done well this year, and barring economic cataclysm, old age looks safe for me.
I have peace of mind most of the time, which is the most important thing.
I have friends who came to visit me in the hospital and took care of me when I was sick, and other friends who would have if they had known I was ill.
I have my cats who keep me company even when I'm not a lot of fun to be with.
There's not much else I want or need.
I have a home with no mortgage, a functioning car with no payments, decent if not high-fashion clothes to wear, music in the house all the time and incense as often as I want it. Which is about all I crave at this point.
I seem to spend slightly less money than I earn, which is good.
My mutual fund savings and especially my IRA have done well this year, and barring economic cataclysm, old age looks safe for me.
I have peace of mind most of the time, which is the most important thing.
I have friends who came to visit me in the hospital and took care of me when I was sick, and other friends who would have if they had known I was ill.
I have my cats who keep me company even when I'm not a lot of fun to be with.
There's not much else I want or need.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Wednesday PM
Well, the sore throat is mostly gone, but my nose is still running and I have a dry hacking cough that would alarm Doc Holliday.
I also have that nasty aftertaste that throat lozenges always leave. I've brushed my teeth a half-dozen times today.
I had the idea it would be cool if the white and green Taras
would manifest themselves and sit by my bed whilst I suffered, just to keep me company. Guys always turn into whiny little boys when they're sick, or so I'm told. I need a mom, and I would nominate them. (My real mom... well, good lord. I'd rather just die alone on an outcropping of rock, thank you, and that would have been her preference for me as well.)
Blogblah's comment in the preceding post is spot on; however I have considerable emotional and intellectual equity invested in self-pity this week and I don't want to waste any of it.
Back to bed.
I also have that nasty aftertaste that throat lozenges always leave. I've brushed my teeth a half-dozen times today.
I had the idea it would be cool if the white and green Taras
would manifest themselves and sit by my bed whilst I suffered, just to keep me company. Guys always turn into whiny little boys when they're sick, or so I'm told. I need a mom, and I would nominate them. (My real mom... well, good lord. I'd rather just die alone on an outcropping of rock, thank you, and that would have been her preference for me as well.)
Blogblah's comment in the preceding post is spot on; however I have considerable emotional and intellectual equity invested in self-pity this week and I don't want to waste any of it.
Back to bed.
No Galileo for you tonight, young man
I could probably pick up an antihistamine at 7-Eleven and tough it out, but I don't want to risk infecting my friends with this.
Day Two
First thing: I'm still sick. Now there's muscle and joint aches, especially in my legs.
Second thing: I'm hooked, as they say in buddhist circles, meaning I'm craving something or a number of things I don't have, and that's the source of my unhappiness. I know what a couple of them are (genetically-engineered shitless cats, for example), but there are probably others I haven't even thought of.
Nina posted this proverb on her blog:
But I think in this context, even a lifetime of helping others can be a way to distract oneself from one's own suffering.
What is the state of your mind when you're doing nothing at all? What is the state of your mind when you're sitting absolutely still, with no music, no television, no books to hold your attention? Are you happy then?
I find that lately I plan my day around two events: lunch, and going back to bed after I get off work. Sometimes I'm under the blankets by 6:30.
Second thing: I'm hooked, as they say in buddhist circles, meaning I'm craving something or a number of things I don't have, and that's the source of my unhappiness. I know what a couple of them are (genetically-engineered shitless cats, for example), but there are probably others I haven't even thought of.
Nina posted this proverb on her blog:
If you want happiness for an hour, take a nap.
If you want happiness for a day, go fishing.
If you want happiness for a month, get married.
If you want happiness for a year, inherit a fortune.
If you want happiness for a lifetime, help others.
But I think in this context, even a lifetime of helping others can be a way to distract oneself from one's own suffering.
What is the state of your mind when you're doing nothing at all? What is the state of your mind when you're sitting absolutely still, with no music, no television, no books to hold your attention? Are you happy then?
I find that lately I plan my day around two events: lunch, and going back to bed after I get off work. Sometimes I'm under the blankets by 6:30.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Home today
Didn't make it to the doctor, or even call. Instead I spent most of the day in bed with a cold. I've been sucking on Hall's cherry lozenges all day.
The soothing menthol formula in Hall's lozenges provides temporary relief from the unhappiness of coughing and sore throat, but it does not provide true lasting happiness.
Don't look for me at Galileo Wednesday night if I still feel like this tomorrow.
The soothing menthol formula in Hall's lozenges provides temporary relief from the unhappiness of coughing and sore throat, but it does not provide true lasting happiness.
Don't look for me at Galileo Wednesday night if I still feel like this tomorrow.
Okay, I've thought about it some more
You either are happy or you aren't. If you aren't, nothing is going to 'make you happy.'
Anything that seems to 'make you happy' is actually only distracting you from unhappiness. Neither love nor wealth, to name two prime suspects, can 'make you happy.'
Making makor life changes to 'make yourself happy' is probably going to compound your misery and you're going to end up unhappier than you were before you did it.
If you are unhappy, the only way to become happy is to become happy. It doesn't involve acquiring anything or changing your circumstances.
Anything that seems to 'make you happy' is actually only distracting you from unhappiness. Neither love nor wealth, to name two prime suspects, can 'make you happy.'
Making makor life changes to 'make yourself happy' is probably going to compound your misery and you're going to end up unhappier than you were before you did it.
If you are unhappy, the only way to become happy is to become happy. It doesn't involve acquiring anything or changing your circumstances.
Tuesday a.m.
I'm going to make a doctor's appointment today. I didn't get seriously ill Monday, but I continued to have some problems.
I spent some time pondering what I wrote about happiness versus distraction from unhappiness. I think I had picked up on this notion before, only with different terminology.
The founding fathers wrote about 'life liberty and the pursuit of happiness' in the Declaration of Independence. But we don't pursue happiness -- I mean all of us as a nation and a culture -- we don't pursue happiness as much as we run from unhappiness.
A big story this past week has been the long lines of people lining up to buy Playstation 3 game consoles. Sony has done what Microsoft did with the Xbox 360, which is to let a relatively meager number of units trickle into the supply channel to generate 'heat' and demand for the Christmas shopping season. The media will do its part, of course, by reporting this totally fabricated shortage as if it were the real thing. (Did you know Sony CEO Howard Stringer was once the line producer for 'The CBS Evening News with Dan Rather'?) We've already seen video of the long lines and the ridiculous markups for the game on Ebay. Later comes the perennial Christmas list of 'must-have' gifts with the PS3 at or near the top.
What is the PS3 other than the current ultimate escape from unhappiness -- this season's most desired distraction from a reality which is never sexy enough, dramatic enough or exciting enough to live up to the expectations we've all had created for us by our media?
But it seems to me now that -- at least speaking for myself -- damn near everything is an escape from unhappiness rather than a move toward happiness.
Among other things, I eat to distract myself. Even my meditation is sometimes just a distraction to escape unhappiness. I went through a series of relationships in my life, some okay, some disastrous, which were driven by my need to distract myself from unhappiness. My cats are a distraction from unhappiness.
Blogging is a distraction from unhappiness. If my inner self were truly at peace and settled, you wouldn't be reading this. I wouldn't have written it, and you'd be asleep or meditating.
I need to think about this some more. (Well, I don't need to think about it, but I almost certainly will.)
I spent some time pondering what I wrote about happiness versus distraction from unhappiness. I think I had picked up on this notion before, only with different terminology.
The founding fathers wrote about 'life liberty and the pursuit of happiness' in the Declaration of Independence. But we don't pursue happiness -- I mean all of us as a nation and a culture -- we don't pursue happiness as much as we run from unhappiness.
A big story this past week has been the long lines of people lining up to buy Playstation 3 game consoles. Sony has done what Microsoft did with the Xbox 360, which is to let a relatively meager number of units trickle into the supply channel to generate 'heat' and demand for the Christmas shopping season. The media will do its part, of course, by reporting this totally fabricated shortage as if it were the real thing. (Did you know Sony CEO Howard Stringer was once the line producer for 'The CBS Evening News with Dan Rather'?) We've already seen video of the long lines and the ridiculous markups for the game on Ebay. Later comes the perennial Christmas list of 'must-have' gifts with the PS3 at or near the top.
What is the PS3 other than the current ultimate escape from unhappiness -- this season's most desired distraction from a reality which is never sexy enough, dramatic enough or exciting enough to live up to the expectations we've all had created for us by our media?
But it seems to me now that -- at least speaking for myself -- damn near everything is an escape from unhappiness rather than a move toward happiness.
Among other things, I eat to distract myself. Even my meditation is sometimes just a distraction to escape unhappiness. I went through a series of relationships in my life, some okay, some disastrous, which were driven by my need to distract myself from unhappiness. My cats are a distraction from unhappiness.
Blogging is a distraction from unhappiness. If my inner self were truly at peace and settled, you wouldn't be reading this. I wouldn't have written it, and you'd be asleep or meditating.
I need to think about this some more. (Well, I don't need to think about it, but I almost certainly will.)
Monday, November 20, 2006
More good news
My heartburn is back for the first time since leaving the hospital. I thought I sort of vaguely felt something starting about Thursday... now it's back for sure. I'm going to try to tough it out tonight because I don't feel like getting dressed and dragging my ass down to 7-Eleven for Pepcid or something.
But for those of you wondering if I'm fully back to normal yet, here's the proof that I'm not.
At least now I have something real to be depressed about.
But for those of you wondering if I'm fully back to normal yet, here's the proof that I'm not.
At least now I have something real to be depressed about.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Hello, darkness, my old friend
Depression is back this evening, having dropped in around 1 p.m.
I've been reading a book by Zen master Charlotte Joko Beck, which is frankly not helping. I may put it aside until I'm in a better frame of mind.
(Although Beck herself might tell me to sit with my suffering and be one with it. And Caterine Vauban would encourage me to frankly wallow in it.)
I asked myself what it would take this evening to make me happy, and realized nothing would. The most I could say is that there are some things that would at least distract for a while from my unhappiness... and realized that pretty much all my life, the thing I've been seeking that I called 'happiness' was actually just some undefined something to distract me from unhappiness.
I went to the Red Cup at about 4:30 for awhile, fully aware that I was going just to distract myself. The place was almost empty. Spaghetti with marinara was the special, which is a pretty darned good distraction. I think their marinara is as good as any in town.
Now I'm back home, with cats and the Internet to distract me.
I'm more comfortable, as always, when I'm unhappy than I am when I'm happy.
And it's been awhile since I've had any of those serene, blissful 'moments' when everything seems fine just as it is. More often, things seem like shit, and yet just as they're supposed to be.
(blogger's note: In case you didn't know, Caterine Vaubon is the nihilist existentialist author from the movie I Heart Huckabee's, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert. She is not a real person. Kudos to Fox Searchlight pictures for keeping her faux website alive all these years.)
I've been reading a book by Zen master Charlotte Joko Beck, which is frankly not helping. I may put it aside until I'm in a better frame of mind.
(Although Beck herself might tell me to sit with my suffering and be one with it. And Caterine Vauban would encourage me to frankly wallow in it.)
I asked myself what it would take this evening to make me happy, and realized nothing would. The most I could say is that there are some things that would at least distract for a while from my unhappiness... and realized that pretty much all my life, the thing I've been seeking that I called 'happiness' was actually just some undefined something to distract me from unhappiness.
I went to the Red Cup at about 4:30 for awhile, fully aware that I was going just to distract myself. The place was almost empty. Spaghetti with marinara was the special, which is a pretty darned good distraction. I think their marinara is as good as any in town.
Now I'm back home, with cats and the Internet to distract me.
I'm more comfortable, as always, when I'm unhappy than I am when I'm happy.
And it's been awhile since I've had any of those serene, blissful 'moments' when everything seems fine just as it is. More often, things seem like shit, and yet just as they're supposed to be.
(blogger's note: In case you didn't know, Caterine Vaubon is the nihilist existentialist author from the movie I Heart Huckabee's, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert. She is not a real person. Kudos to Fox Searchlight pictures for keeping her faux website alive all these years.)
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Doodle boy redux redux
I decided to draw the bag in which I tote around my laptop, then lost interest.
As I've said, I wish I had more self-discipline as an artist.
dzaster: Come by the RC when I'm here and I will.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Success!
JohnX commented:
And I agree.
My ambitions are, well, less ambitious.
I'd like to keep my laundry pile small enough I don't have to set up a base camp before climbing to the top of it. I'd like to make myself empty the litter boxes more often (good lord, the things are electric... I don't even have to do that much).
I'd like to hang on to more of my money, even though I'm relatively prudent with my cash at this stage in my life and live pretty much within my means.
I would like to be, frankly, less of a slob, and not have my car always look like a family of four has been living in it.
More than anything else, I'd like to have some self-discipline as an artist. Talent is useless if it's never applied, and mine, however great or small it is, has been seriously underapplied. No one to blame but myself. And maybe not even myself - I don't know.
Maybe I'd like to be able to interact with other people a little more comfortably than I do now. Maybe. Maybe not.
But really, it's all little stuff.
"Life is more fun when we allow ourselves to use our own definitions of words like 'success' and 'failure' and 'happiness.'
"I'd hate to think guys like Donald Trump or George Bush would be the arbiters of the value of my existence, or what joy I'm getting from it."
And I agree.
My ambitions are, well, less ambitious.
I'd like to keep my laundry pile small enough I don't have to set up a base camp before climbing to the top of it. I'd like to make myself empty the litter boxes more often (good lord, the things are electric... I don't even have to do that much).
I'd like to hang on to more of my money, even though I'm relatively prudent with my cash at this stage in my life and live pretty much within my means.
I would like to be, frankly, less of a slob, and not have my car always look like a family of four has been living in it.
More than anything else, I'd like to have some self-discipline as an artist. Talent is useless if it's never applied, and mine, however great or small it is, has been seriously underapplied. No one to blame but myself. And maybe not even myself - I don't know.
Maybe I'd like to be able to interact with other people a little more comfortably than I do now. Maybe. Maybe not.
But really, it's all little stuff.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I think JohnX is on to something
He posted a question here several days ago: 'Are you attached to non-attachment?' and I quickly replied that I wasn't.
But I had a flash overnight: the concept of non-attachment is sort of like a sanctuary or shelter for me. Since it has an attraction for me, maybe I really am attached to it.
I realized that part of the reason I had become so interested in the subject is that it seems to offer an escape from a lot of the disappointments and shortcomings in my life. Or, to look at it less charitably, it offers a rationalization for why I am where I am in my life.
Or to put it yet another way, it may be just a more abstract and philosophical version of the fox and the sour grapes –– my life is a bust, but it doesn't matter because I'm practicing non-attachment, anyway. I'm not a fuck-up... I'm profoundly spiritual.
I'm not sure I'm on the right track here –– maybe I had it right before, and now I'm overthinking it.
But if I really am seeing non-attachment as a sort of sanctuary or protection, then I'm seeing it as a thing or concept, in which case, yeah, I'm attached to it.
But I had a flash overnight: the concept of non-attachment is sort of like a sanctuary or shelter for me. Since it has an attraction for me, maybe I really am attached to it.
I realized that part of the reason I had become so interested in the subject is that it seems to offer an escape from a lot of the disappointments and shortcomings in my life. Or, to look at it less charitably, it offers a rationalization for why I am where I am in my life.
Or to put it yet another way, it may be just a more abstract and philosophical version of the fox and the sour grapes –– my life is a bust, but it doesn't matter because I'm practicing non-attachment, anyway. I'm not a fuck-up... I'm profoundly spiritual.
I'm not sure I'm on the right track here –– maybe I had it right before, and now I'm overthinking it.
But if I really am seeing non-attachment as a sort of sanctuary or protection, then I'm seeing it as a thing or concept, in which case, yeah, I'm attached to it.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
9:31 pm
Holy cow. I should have been in bed under the blanket feeling sorry for myself two hours ago.
G'night, everyone.
G'night, everyone.
Epiphany on the rocks
Well, shit.
Just found out some news that kind of derails my epiphany.
Cold Mountain time. I need to go live under a cliff.
Seriously: I was talking to someone this evening about the number of people I know who live -- very simply, but live nonetheless -- without working or at least with working very little. I'm not talking about freeloaders or panhandlers. I'm talking about people you have arranged their personal lives so that they've been able to escape the rat race.
Some have retirement income, others have other forms of income. Still, I wonder how they all do it and if I could pull it off myself.
Just found out some news that kind of derails my epiphany.
Cold Mountain time. I need to go live under a cliff.
Seriously: I was talking to someone this evening about the number of people I know who live -- very simply, but live nonetheless -- without working or at least with working very little. I'm not talking about freeloaders or panhandlers. I'm talking about people you have arranged their personal lives so that they've been able to escape the rat race.
Some have retirement income, others have other forms of income. Still, I wonder how they all do it and if I could pull it off myself.
The spiritual side of the branding experience
About the new Windows Vista startup sound:
"Earlier in the summer, blogger Robert Scoble interviewed Steve Ball, the group program manager for the Windows Audio/Video Excellence team, the guy in charge of this auditory experience. Ball dubbed this startup sound 'a spiritual side of the branding experience.'
"He said the sound is a 'brief, positive confirmation that your machine is now conscious and ready to react.' When your machine is done cold booting, 'this gentle sound will come out telling you that you can log in,' Ball said."
More here.
"He said the sound is a 'brief, positive confirmation that your machine is now conscious and ready to react.' When your machine is done cold booting, 'this gentle sound will come out telling you that you can log in,' Ball said."
More here.
Epiphany
I finally realized I could let go.
This stuff is not about me, and this stuff is not my stuff.
So someone else can worry about it. I don't own it, and I'm not going to take ownership of it.
This stuff is not about me, and this stuff is not my stuff.
So someone else can worry about it. I don't own it, and I'm not going to take ownership of it.
Everything's a concept
or mind object, or whatever you want to call it. Remember: only don't know.
Went to dinner at Iron Starr, then hit the sack about 7:15.
I'm not very happy or at peace these days. There are some things going on in my life I can't talk about here, although some of you know at least some of the details. I wish I was at a point that I could resolve this in a way that was at least partly to my own benefit, but I'm not.
Went to dinner at Iron Starr, then hit the sack about 7:15.
I'm not very happy or at peace these days. There are some things going on in my life I can't talk about here, although some of you know at least some of the details. I wish I was at a point that I could resolve this in a way that was at least partly to my own benefit, but I'm not.
Monday, November 13, 2006
The end of conservatism?
"Pat Buchanan and I rarely agree, but he rightly points out that the election marked the exhaustion of the movement that Barry Goldwater launched with his 1964 campaign."
The rest here.
- Jonathan Alter,
Newsweek columnist
Newsweek columnist
The rest here.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Useful stuff
blogblah!'s comment about my laptop reminds me there are some gadgets in my house which I find useful.
The microwave oven is definitely one. The laptop is another.
And while I've avoided the iPod for a long time, the abundance of Buddhist and Zen dharma talk podcasts available for free via iTunes makes me think I may have to have one.
The electric litter box is another.
The microwave oven is definitely one. The laptop is another.
And while I've avoided the iPod for a long time, the abundance of Buddhist and Zen dharma talk podcasts available for free via iTunes makes me think I may have to have one.
The electric litter box is another.
Sunday PM
I decided to distract myself for awhile by making a trip to the bookstore this evening.
Bought a design magazine and something else -- I don't even remember what. It's still in the bag.
But while I was standing around the cash register, I got to pondering all the knickknacks displayed up in the point-of-purchase zone. What would I do with all this stuff? Why would I want it? Do I not have enough of this stuff already?
No, not enough –– too much.
Nothing is real. We're buying illusions. Stockpiling illusions. Collecting the whole series of illusions. We could all be sitting around in dashikis and kimonos wearing sandals or old sneakers, owning no Skechers, no Tommy Hilfiger, no Magnetic Poetry and no Subzero refrigerators on which to stick it, and we'd be the same people. Or illusions of people.
I am tired of material stuff.
Bought a design magazine and something else -- I don't even remember what. It's still in the bag.
But while I was standing around the cash register, I got to pondering all the knickknacks displayed up in the point-of-purchase zone. What would I do with all this stuff? Why would I want it? Do I not have enough of this stuff already?
No, not enough –– too much.
Nothing is real. We're buying illusions. Stockpiling illusions. Collecting the whole series of illusions. We could all be sitting around in dashikis and kimonos wearing sandals or old sneakers, owning no Skechers, no Tommy Hilfiger, no Magnetic Poetry and no Subzero refrigerators on which to stick it, and we'd be the same people. Or illusions of people.
I am tired of material stuff.
Nothing is real, and nothing to get hung about
So the Buddha is talking to his disciple Subhuti in The Diamond Sutra and he says something like, 'A boddhisvatta takes a vow to liberate all beings, but anyone who even has a concept of such a thing as a being is not a boddhisvatta.'
This assertion that the very existence of beings is an illusion or delusion comes as something of a relief to those of us who always had issues with beings - although I did okay with dogs, cats and such. It's good to know this world is actually a virtual world –– just like 'Second Life,' only with better graphics.
The illness I had recently would have eventually killed me had it gone untreated. But Mahayana texts tell us even the concepts of birth and death are mistakes/misunderstandings/misapprehensions/miswhatever. If I had 'died', so what? I was never really here, and I'm not really here right now. (And neither are you, but keep reading, anyway.)
For those of us practicing the seven habits of highly don't-give-a-shit people, this is a very advantageous point of view.
What if the earth decided to shrug off all our crap? Just shake it off like a dog shakes off water?
All the running shoe factories, all the NFL stadia, all the cable shopping channels, all the defense contractors, all the fast food chains. All the big important enterprises, all the revenue streams, all the strategic business plans.
Just leave the broadband Internet, okay?
This assertion that the very existence of beings is an illusion or delusion comes as something of a relief to those of us who always had issues with beings - although I did okay with dogs, cats and such. It's good to know this world is actually a virtual world –– just like 'Second Life,' only with better graphics.
The illness I had recently would have eventually killed me had it gone untreated. But Mahayana texts tell us even the concepts of birth and death are mistakes/misunderstandings/misapprehensions/miswhatever. If I had 'died', so what? I was never really here, and I'm not really here right now. (And neither are you, but keep reading, anyway.)
For those of us practicing the seven habits of highly don't-give-a-shit people, this is a very advantageous point of view.
What if the earth decided to shrug off all our crap? Just shake it off like a dog shakes off water?
All the running shoe factories, all the NFL stadia, all the cable shopping channels, all the defense contractors, all the fast food chains. All the big important enterprises, all the revenue streams, all the strategic business plans.
Just leave the broadband Internet, okay?
Saturday, November 11, 2006
If there's a buddha here, I don't see him
I can reread my own stuff and see that I'm not where I want or need to be.
Too much anger at the Republicans (although I still stand by my position that the GOP is an organized crime cartel and needs to be dealt with accordingly).
Too much anger at the Sloth (who was a Republican, incidentally).
Too much anger. I guess, about a lot of other things about which I haven't written and will probably never write.
Too much anger at the Republicans (although I still stand by my position that the GOP is an organized crime cartel and needs to be dealt with accordingly).
Too much anger at the Sloth (who was a Republican, incidentally).
Too much anger. I guess, about a lot of other things about which I haven't written and will probably never write.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Bipartisanship, my ass
I support the two-party system, but not when one of the two parties is actually an organized crime cartel.
Democrats should scrupulously abstain from the kind of hysterical, overwrought public bashing the Republicans have done since the mid-nineties, but behind the scenes, using statutory and parliamentary means, Congressional Democrats should do everything possible to permanently eliminate the Republican Party as a force in American government and politics.
I'd like to see a system in which there are three viable parties -- the Libertarians on the right, perhaps, with the Greens on the left and the Democrats in the middle.
Democratic Representative William Jefferson of Louisiana is under investigation for accepting bribes ($90,000 in cash found stuffed in his freezer), and the new Democratic majority in the House should make an example of him first. After that's taken care of, they should go after Hastert and Co. like the sword of God. Again, keep the public comments positive and circumspect –– but behind the scenes, leave not one stone standing atop another.
And the same rule must apply, of course, to the Democrats themselves.
Democrats should scrupulously abstain from the kind of hysterical, overwrought public bashing the Republicans have done since the mid-nineties, but behind the scenes, using statutory and parliamentary means, Congressional Democrats should do everything possible to permanently eliminate the Republican Party as a force in American government and politics.
I'd like to see a system in which there are three viable parties -- the Libertarians on the right, perhaps, with the Greens on the left and the Democrats in the middle.
Democratic Representative William Jefferson of Louisiana is under investigation for accepting bribes ($90,000 in cash found stuffed in his freezer), and the new Democratic majority in the House should make an example of him first. After that's taken care of, they should go after Hastert and Co. like the sword of God. Again, keep the public comments positive and circumspect –– but behind the scenes, leave not one stone standing atop another.
And the same rule must apply, of course, to the Democrats themselves.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Just in from MSNBC...
We have the Senate.
Much thanks to George, Dick, Don, Tom, Denny and Jack A. for making it all possible.
Much thanks to George, Dick, Don, Tom, Denny and Jack A. for making it all possible.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Time for bed
We're 24 up in the House and even in the Senate as I write this.
Think I'll snooze a while and then check back in.
At least we've gotten part of our country back.
Think I'll snooze a while and then check back in.
At least we've gotten part of our country back.
Do I have to feel compassion for the Sloth?
I walked into a restaurant this evening, and there in front of me was the Sloth and his wife. I was in no mood to make small talk with him; I turned around and walked out and went somewhere else.
The Sloth and I both received paychecks from the same employer for about a year and a half. That is a somewhat awkward but certainly more technically correct statement than to write that he and I worked together, since the Sloth didn't work much at all. Instead he divided most of his work day among sleeping on a sofa in the break room, wandering aimlessly around the building, looking up worshipfully at the middle manager who served as his patron and protector and complaining that he shouldn't be working at all but instead should 'have an office where people bring me stuff and I sign off on it.'
The Sloth left behind a pile of half-finished projects – some of them overdue by more than a year – which I then had to finish up.
So now I ask myself, how do I feel a buddha's compassion for the Sloth?
I guess if they called me and said he needed a kidney and I was the only match on earth I might feel enough compassion for him to give one. Of course, if he survived it would mean that a whole lifetime of coworkers would have to run around behind him cleaning up his messes while he conspired to just 'sign off on stuff.'
Can I feel compassion for him without having to actually like him? Can I feel compassion for him and still think he's an annoying twerp? 'Cause that would sure make it a lot easier.
The Sloth and I both received paychecks from the same employer for about a year and a half. That is a somewhat awkward but certainly more technically correct statement than to write that he and I worked together, since the Sloth didn't work much at all. Instead he divided most of his work day among sleeping on a sofa in the break room, wandering aimlessly around the building, looking up worshipfully at the middle manager who served as his patron and protector and complaining that he shouldn't be working at all but instead should 'have an office where people bring me stuff and I sign off on it.'
The Sloth left behind a pile of half-finished projects – some of them overdue by more than a year – which I then had to finish up.
So now I ask myself, how do I feel a buddha's compassion for the Sloth?
I guess if they called me and said he needed a kidney and I was the only match on earth I might feel enough compassion for him to give one. Of course, if he survived it would mean that a whole lifetime of coworkers would have to run around behind him cleaning up his messes while he conspired to just 'sign off on stuff.'
Can I feel compassion for him without having to actually like him? Can I feel compassion for him and still think he's an annoying twerp? 'Cause that would sure make it a lot easier.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Note:
I already posted that quote about getting rid of the mind before getting rid of the world.
I guess my memory's shot.
I guess my memory's shot.
Ya know what?
I already posted that thing about getting rid of the mind before getting rid of the world.
My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
What's the meaning of it all?
There's a rose bush in my front yard. What's the meaning of it? It doesn't have a meaning. It's a rose bush; that's it - no meaning. A cat is sleeping on the settee. No meaning - it's just sleeping.
We're surrounded by stuff which has no meaning. And no not-meaning, either. The stuff is just there.
But when events and phenomena reach a certain level of complexity, we think it has to mean something.
Meaning is something we humans think we have to have because life is boring without it. Then we stir shit up to create drama, which we then call meaning.
Things doesn't have to mean anything. Sit outside at the Red Cup or on your own front porch or wander around the Paseo and just be. No meaning. That's it.
We're surrounded by stuff which has no meaning. And no not-meaning, either. The stuff is just there.
But when events and phenomena reach a certain level of complexity, we think it has to mean something.
Meaning is something we humans think we have to have because life is boring without it. Then we stir shit up to create drama, which we then call meaning.
Things doesn't have to mean anything. Sit outside at the Red Cup or on your own front porch or wander around the Paseo and just be. No meaning. That's it.
Random stuff
Although I haven't finished the Red Pine commentary on the Diamond Sutra, I picked up Thich Nhat Hanh's commentary on the same writing.
His version was published in 1992, originally written in Vietnamese and intended for an expatriate Vietnamese audience. It includes his own translation of the Diamond Sutra, retranslated from Vietnamese into English. For me, it's more readable than Red Pine's translation.
So here I am, the book-taught Buddhist, gleaning more wisdom from the Barnes & Noble Sangha.
As I read the sutra and commentaries – no concepts and no no-concepts – I find myself more and more struck by the general silliness of our everyday life. I find myself again drawn to the idea of a simpler, almost Spartan lifestyle, just to rid myself of baggage.
I wish I could not work. My work environment is still a source of drama and distraction, and one from which I can not easily distance myself.
There is a quote in the Red Pine commentary from a Zen monk who, writing his own Diamond Sutra commentary centuries ago, said something like, 'You must get rid of the mind first, then the world will follow. People who try to get rid of the world without first getting rid of the mind end up deeper in confusion.'
That's sort of where I am. If I were more successful at 'getting rid of the mind,' I wouldn't be so caught up in the drama and stress of my job. But at the same time, it would be easier to 'get rid of the mind' if I didn't have the sometimes ridiculous demands of my job and the demands of coworkers who seem to be checking in from a different planet than the one on which I live.
(Did you see the article in TIME magazine about the 'personal branding consultant'? This is some guy who does research on your 'personal brand,' then gives you advice on how you should live your life, the kind of clothes you should wear and the kind of car you should drive, all with an eye to strengthening your 'brand,' ie, giving you a higher profile in the 24-hour consumer suck-up-a-thon that we all want our lives to be.
It's not an option; it's a necessity, just like food, clothing and shelter. You're no different than an iPod, Mini Cooper or upmarket vodka: you simply must develop a comprehensive, proactive, strategic personal brand initiative to have a decent life.
I'm getting started on that immediately. My own brand will be based on the 7 Habits, which see.)
Tomorrow is election day. It won't be straight-party vote for me, because of a single race.
This is something else for which I have not much enthusiasm.
I won't be voting for the best candidate, in most cases; I'll be voting for the one I think is least likely to make things measurably worse. I would prefer to skip the whole thing and simply live – physically, intellectually and emotionally – beyond the reach of government and our society. Let the beings/not-beings who want that kind of world have it for themselves (and don't forget to work on that personal brand!), and let those of us looking for something else have the world we want.
His version was published in 1992, originally written in Vietnamese and intended for an expatriate Vietnamese audience. It includes his own translation of the Diamond Sutra, retranslated from Vietnamese into English. For me, it's more readable than Red Pine's translation.
So here I am, the book-taught Buddhist, gleaning more wisdom from the Barnes & Noble Sangha.
As I read the sutra and commentaries – no concepts and no no-concepts – I find myself more and more struck by the general silliness of our everyday life. I find myself again drawn to the idea of a simpler, almost Spartan lifestyle, just to rid myself of baggage.
I wish I could not work. My work environment is still a source of drama and distraction, and one from which I can not easily distance myself.
There is a quote in the Red Pine commentary from a Zen monk who, writing his own Diamond Sutra commentary centuries ago, said something like, 'You must get rid of the mind first, then the world will follow. People who try to get rid of the world without first getting rid of the mind end up deeper in confusion.'
That's sort of where I am. If I were more successful at 'getting rid of the mind,' I wouldn't be so caught up in the drama and stress of my job. But at the same time, it would be easier to 'get rid of the mind' if I didn't have the sometimes ridiculous demands of my job and the demands of coworkers who seem to be checking in from a different planet than the one on which I live.
(Did you see the article in TIME magazine about the 'personal branding consultant'? This is some guy who does research on your 'personal brand,' then gives you advice on how you should live your life, the kind of clothes you should wear and the kind of car you should drive, all with an eye to strengthening your 'brand,' ie, giving you a higher profile in the 24-hour consumer suck-up-a-thon that we all want our lives to be.
It's not an option; it's a necessity, just like food, clothing and shelter. You're no different than an iPod, Mini Cooper or upmarket vodka: you simply must develop a comprehensive, proactive, strategic personal brand initiative to have a decent life.
I'm getting started on that immediately. My own brand will be based on the 7 Habits, which see.)
Tomorrow is election day. It won't be straight-party vote for me, because of a single race.
This is something else for which I have not much enthusiasm.
I won't be voting for the best candidate, in most cases; I'll be voting for the one I think is least likely to make things measurably worse. I would prefer to skip the whole thing and simply live – physically, intellectually and emotionally – beyond the reach of government and our society. Let the beings/not-beings who want that kind of world have it for themselves (and don't forget to work on that personal brand!), and let those of us looking for something else have the world we want.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Pastor Ted Haggard
I have little to say about this other than, 'Well, duh. What else is new?'
I've been working for several years now on the assumption that anyone who wants to tell me how to behave, and especially someone who wants the government to tell me how to behave, probably has bigger issues than I do.
I've never hired a prostitute, never cheated on my wife, never used forged prescriptions to get drugs, never committed rape or statutory rape, and yet somehow I'm the bad guy and this wack assortment of perverts, pederasts, lechers, addicts and con men are the good guys.
Harper's Magazine profiled Haggard and his church in May 2005. That article is available online at the Harper's web site.
I see where Pastor Ted's church has begun the search for his replacement. Good luck finding another Ken Doll for Jesus.
'Superchurch pastor' is a job that requires roughly the same skill set as 'multilevel marketing representative' or 'door-to-door magazine salesman.' Pastors of small churches -- where they actually know their congregants' names and visit them in the hospital and such -- work a lot harder than the celebrity preachers with the perfect hair and Janet Jackson headsets.
Looks like I had more say about this than I thought I did.
If Abraham had just gone ahead and killed Isaac, a lot of this nonsense would have been avoided.
I've been working for several years now on the assumption that anyone who wants to tell me how to behave, and especially someone who wants the government to tell me how to behave, probably has bigger issues than I do.
I've never hired a prostitute, never cheated on my wife, never used forged prescriptions to get drugs, never committed rape or statutory rape, and yet somehow I'm the bad guy and this wack assortment of perverts, pederasts, lechers, addicts and con men are the good guys.
Harper's Magazine profiled Haggard and his church in May 2005. That article is available online at the Harper's web site.
I see where Pastor Ted's church has begun the search for his replacement. Good luck finding another Ken Doll for Jesus.
'Superchurch pastor' is a job that requires roughly the same skill set as 'multilevel marketing representative' or 'door-to-door magazine salesman.' Pastors of small churches -- where they actually know their congregants' names and visit them in the hospital and such -- work a lot harder than the celebrity preachers with the perfect hair and Janet Jackson headsets.
Looks like I had more say about this than I thought I did.
If Abraham had just gone ahead and killed Isaac, a lot of this nonsense would have been avoided.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
A lot of stuff...
...I'd like to rant about, but I shouldn't and I won't.
Maybe later.
I was at work today from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Maybe later.
I was at work today from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
My subconscious keeps trying to drag me back into hell
I had another TV news dream last night. Unlike most of my other TV news dreams, this one was set in a specific station for which I once worked.
I won't mention the call letters, but it was the one with crazy general manager, the drug-addicted news director and all the cutey honey anchors who didn't know the difference between a U.S. Senator and a state representative, but did know the MAC Cosmetics toll-free hotline and superagent Ken Lindner's cell phone number.
(Yes, I know that description doesn't narrow it down any. That was the idea.)
All I remember about this dream was that I was back in the station after an absence of many many years, yet no one seemed surprised to see me there. There was a point where, for some reason, I needed to go from one room to another. I opened the door, and there was another door behind it. It wasn't locked, but it was kind of stuck in the door frame, and I had to yank on it a couple of times to get it open. And when I did, there was yet another door behind the second one. That was when I woke up.
I won't mention the call letters, but it was the one with crazy general manager, the drug-addicted news director and all the cutey honey anchors who didn't know the difference between a U.S. Senator and a state representative, but did know the MAC Cosmetics toll-free hotline and superagent Ken Lindner's cell phone number.
(Yes, I know that description doesn't narrow it down any. That was the idea.)
All I remember about this dream was that I was back in the station after an absence of many many years, yet no one seemed surprised to see me there. There was a point where, for some reason, I needed to go from one room to another. I opened the door, and there was another door behind it. It wasn't locked, but it was kind of stuck in the door frame, and I had to yank on it a couple of times to get it open. And when I did, there was yet another door behind the second one. That was when I woke up.
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