12/28/2022

i just finished reading "klara and the sun" by kazuo ishiguro. it's a wonderful and sad story. i have many thoughts about it, but essentially i think mainly about the things we take for granted... and the purity of a love so unconditional that it completely disregards the self... somewhat like sunlight.

yesterday i struggled to progress on "kappa noodle." but i realized that what i was writing was getting far too complex... characters with the same name, and what that was supposed to signify, etc... i was losing the point of the story. i really made a concerted effort to map out the plot, in my own messy way... i had this idea of having at least two plot lines, and make them each progress naturally, while resonating and echoing each other... somewhat akin to what haruki murakami tried to accomplish in "hard boiled wonderland." but i was having so much trouble... on the one hand, i wasn't sure what the point of either plotline was... and to make them resonate seemed to compromise the plotlines, make them contrived. so i gave up.

i now have another idea, a much simpler one. well, it's still complex, in the sense that there are still two plot lines. but i think if i incorporate my brother in the second plotline, then there would be a kind of collapse, a directness about things... after all, the story is largely about my ambiguous feelings towards my brother- so why not incorporate him directly, and have him speak for himself? maybe it would make him more sympathetic, rather than this effigy that i complain about and burn in my mind... the trick is this. on the one hand, i want to make his position understandable... but there is something that i want to hint at in this story, something unspeakable, that is the present source of all my rage towards him. it is unspeakable, and yet, i want to hint at it, perhaps through metaphor, perhaps through some apocalyptic event that occurred (or will occur?) in the kappa world... but i don't, frankly, have the subtlety for that. and i fear that incorporating this will simply muddy up the plot...

there's a point where you have to negotiate between truth and whether an artistic piece "works." life in itself, "truth" so to speak, is messy. art demands a kind of distance, an abstraction... a piecing out of what's essential... and therein lies the tension... we don't want to simplify an artistic work to the point where it "loses the baby" (bathwater-baby)... but we also don't want to supply the entire ocean, with all of its vagueness and depth, for our readers will simply drown in it, and not know what the point or purpose of it all was...

***

i am tired.

every day, i find, i am wrestling with trying to find a way to feel. a stance to take. a symbol to believe in. something to feel. i suppose it is in my nature to require something like that... and maybe this is what it means to be old. it is this struggle to continue life, when all of its fictions seem to no longer hold any more...

i continue to serve. i suppose that's life's one redeeming factor, is reinforcing other people, making other people feel more solid in their lives... but for myself?

dream, 12/27/2022

i hate some really weird nightmare type dreams...

in the first segment, i was with my wife/girlfriend. during the day, we had driven our car into some very dangerous landscape full of cliffs. muddy pink cliffs... somehow we woke up and had to leave. i'm not certain why at this point, but there was a high degree of fear involved, like maybe something was there in the night that didn't want us there. so we drove on those treacherous cliffs. and somehow i found a way, a path of sorts, that would navigate us on the least treacherous route through the cliffs. it would take us close to the muddy waters of a raging river. so i went down the slope, practically riding on the underside of the car. then, the waters took us and carried us, and somehow everything tumbled into darkness. when we came to rest, i realized that we were under water, and needed to get out. there was some blanket that had ballooned out above the car, and as i somehow made my way out of the driver's side window to see where we were (not sure where the water went)... well, i stuck my head out of the window, and i saw that we were on the edge of a high cliff, teetering on the edge of it, and my action of breaking myself out had already caused the car to teeter more towards falling falling, and i remember actually having a debate (terrible debate) with myself, of saving myself or staying in the car and dying, but fortunately the choice was stolen from me, because we fell...

at least i think we did...

next, i was with eugene, a friend from college. we were riding some crazy ride, like a roller coaster, only it wasn't a roller coaster. it was supposed to be something routine, like a baggage claim or a food service place or something... anyway, we were riding on this thing, with seats that swung upon some sort of pole. the chairs kept ramping upwards and upwards at increasingly incongrous angles... and then, at one point, i felt something give. i realized that things were not going routinely, that this was not right, and, just as i thought, the whole thing started going backwards. somehow i reached the pole and got myself to safety, just as the whole mess started careening backwards into a crash, and a dirty mess of food and people...

we (eugene and i, or a pseudo eugene, some nameless faceless companion) went to our car to leave this godforsaken place. we needed to eat. but as we tried to start the car (now, some huge truck), there was something wrong. i went outside to check, and realized that when we had parked our car (i don't recall us ever actually parking it), we had impacted some wall. so i was searching the ground for scattered parts, like a part of the grill. actually, there were a lot of parts from a lot of cars that had hit things... anyway, i couldn't find what we needed...

i realized that a part of the reason we couldn't leave (yes, and our car suddenly had no bottom... it was just seats and a floorless car with all the moving parts showing) was that our car had no tires/wheels. only bare axles. so some friendly person showed up and started putting these baby tires all over our axles... and then it was at this point that the car started turning into this crazy restaurant show...

have you ever watched a movie where you know it is disgusting and evil, but you're trapped? well, that's kind of what happened. it was like this crazy family of mutants (like texas chainsaw massacre) ran the car/restaurant/show. they asked us if we wanted food, and my partner (unwittingly) asked for a hot dog. so one of the people, a long limbed, skinny boy, with a face and hair like the saw puppet, gave him one in a plastic bag/balloon that he had clearly defecated in... when they asked me if i wanted anything, i said no, i had already eaten...

then there was some crazy show that they tried to display to us on some makeshift television. at the moment, i can't recall what it was...

i woke with a bad taste in my mouth... and a feeling of desperation and spinning uselessness, a dark mirror to my waking life...

dreams 12/20/22

so there were many dreams during this winter storm, all brimming over. all i can recall are fragments or sentiments from each.

in one, there was a woman recalling an affair with a confederate soldier, which happened when both were in new york (incongruous). she said that his kisses tasted like "brooklyn and rain."

in another, there was a shipping container with faded mountains painted on its side parked in the middle of a street. this was an obstacle in the way of the construction of someone's home. so i went on a journey up into the mountains, and found a middle aged chamorro man, disillusioned with life, and dangerously apathetic about mine. in any case, he listened to what i had to say. perhaps he was related to the person whose home was in jeopardy. he took me to an aging wwii bomber, and flew it down from the mountain. i recall him barely clearing the peaks of mountains, and, later, buildings, until we approached the shipping container, and it became certain that he intended to crash the plane directly into the shipping container...

[i think i was awake for this part... lynn said there were no blankets behind her, so i reached around her to pull them up, and found musubi there. "there's something warm and furry here. and it vibrates." i demonstrated by rubbing musubi's neck. "you're getting a call on your pager."]

and i had a thought, perhaps the uniting element of all these fragments, that chatgpt was somehow tapped into the collective unconsciousness, and was filling it with pseudo-gibberish or pseudo-sense (depending on your perspective), like some vast silicon iceberg melting its circuitry into the oceans, causing its levels to rise up and drown everyone in unsettling dreams.

dream, 10/24/2022

...this was a weird one, even for me.

apparently, i was trying to hook up with a guy. i was nude on a bed, uncomfortable and anxious. the other guy was tall with long, wild, blonde hair. he was also nude. he was in his early 20's at most. in fact, the scene seemed to be at a college dorm room (although i know of no dorm room that was this big), and the two of us were relatively new to campus (as were all the other people around us).

i remember feeling very nervous, wondering if it would hurt. the other guy seemed a pro at this sort of thing, and wanted to go at it right away. but i appeared really reluctant, so he decided to slow down and allow us to talk, to have a conversation. i asked where he was from. he said "pennsylvania." (i recall there being an apple involved, which he sliced and consumed right off the knife). oh yeah, i remember there being this awkward moment, where i said, "yeah, i knew that" (because maybe he'd already told me a few times before, and i'd forgotten - maybe, i worried, leading to him questioning how much he meant to me - even if this was apparently a one night stand sort of thing). anyway, i tried guessing where specifically in pennsylvania, and i said, "oh, i only really know philadelphia." and then he said, "it's someplace warmer." i had no clue. finally, he said, "it's only the most exclusive military academy in the united states." and i still couldn't answer, but it seemed obvious, so he refrained from stating it outright...

...at that point, it's weird, i know, but there seemed to be many other people wandering through the room, including girls. everyone else was dressed, as though this were a perfectly normal affair to be passing through, nothing to see here. the other guy i was with then proceeded to feature this huge plastic ball, which he termed something like the "victory ball," a prize he had earned while at his military academy. within the ball were what looked like the hilts of multiple knives, among other things. the other people in the room admired it; there was one snooty girl who seemed revulsed by it. in any case, i recall the boy i was with taking out some sort of special cleaner to polish the ball...

...and while he was doing it, it seemed like we transferred locations, and were now guests in my wife's friend's house. i recall getting up and wandering around. i got in line for something to eat (i can't recall what), but ahead of me was this older, somewhat chubby white man. apparently, his siblings were out and about at this party, and at one point, the host of the party made a little quip or joke about how she hoped at least the other siblings could finish the job (apparently, he had been tasked with completing a plumbing job for the host, and sort of quit in the middle of it). i recall the chubby man then proceeding to play with and chase a younger (8 year old?) girl around the house.

i saw some sort of aquarium aquaponics arrangement. i could glimpse the fish, but noted the water looked greasy...

and then, even with the shift in scenery, the ugly purpose/center of the dream came home again. my wife and the host urged that the rest of the party move off to the outside lanai (separated from the bedroom by a large glass window, apparently no concerns of privacy) so that they could leave the two of us (the hook up guy and me) alone...

...and that was it.

i don't think i have ever had homosexual leanings. i was once hit on by someone in college, and although i wasn't interested physically, i always wondered what it would be like to have had him as a friend- he had such dark and brooding eyes- because if nothing else, we seemed to share a deep and torturous loneliness... my wife has often joked/noticed that she sees a lot of men "checking me out" (apparently she's more attuned to these things than i am), to which i have replied that i seem to have more luck on this side of the field, than the other...

again, i don't think i'm gay at all. but i do wish (and this is true of me with ALL people) that there were a way to really be close to and understand and befriend people and take a journey with them into their lives, without having to commit to them sexually or otherwise. i have often wished that i could walk through the doorway of other people's lives more freely... but i understand that (or tell myself that) the intimacy and understanding that i have with my wife comes largely because i have committed myself to her... and that my relationship with everything else is dependent upon that... sort of like a planet committing to a particular orbit, through a "decision" to gravitate around one star.

dream; 9/17/2022

running around in a five story japanese styled mansion, with a real (?) sword sheathed at my side, admiring the dark wood floors and the detailed stylings, all the while pursued by a set of other players (?) intent upon killing me... on one floor, "slaying" someone with a set of fans. and an another, the last, stabbing someone through with his own kodachi...

there are flashes of the previous dream, in which my friends and i were wondering through the rain drainage canals, perhaps with a few other people (girls) who were relative strangers. at one point, we saw what looked like water keys duct taped to a rusty support pipe. upon closer examination, they seemed to be skeleton keys. i made a comment about how, on previous trips, i had encountered combination locks with no apparent purpose... there were places where i or my comrades slipped... places with apparent railings, to assist in keeping balance, but the curved submerged floors were so slippery that they took people down anyway... and then we started to notice fish and coral in the waters, and i came to the strange realization that maybe this entire rain drainage system communicated with the sea. and as soon as i thought it, we saw and could feel the thundering of water through old pipes, carrying water in the rhythm of breathing, as though somewhere, waves were pounding, and pushing things through to where we were. and i recall us seeing some of those ocean water pipes, and slipping on one of them...

my reading for "backwards carp"

 reading for "backwards carp"

this was a reading that we did for Jason Fong's writing workshop.

the actors: Greg Watanabe, Emily Locke, Janet Song, and James Lontayao.

dream: 8/29/2022

nothing long today (as i don't have time).

ever had a dream where you are feeling quiet despair because you know you have already failed, and are not taking steps to address the problem? that's what happened to me last night. i was apparently taking a few courses, but the ones that were sticking into my side were a calculus test, and another unidentified written test. i believe the calculus test had some sort of time deadline (11:00?) that was already past. i recall thinking that i'd done part of it, but for some reason, i wasn't actively completing it. and the other written thing, well, that was an additional coffin sealer... anyway, i was at some random lot in the middle of nowhere. i apparently had acquired some ownership rights to the lot, and was thinking about how to dig a massive hole in it. i thought it wouldn't be good to dig it too close to the entrance to the lot, or cars driving into it would immediately fall in. i dug up a little of it (it was sandy and full of worn out asphalt), and had a thought of bringing what i had dug up to the grow beds at home, where i could use it as "garden soil." but that was it...

when i woke up, i had to convince myself that i didn't have those double deadlines looming over me... the liberation kind of buoyed my spirits a bit, even though there was (IS) a lot of work i have to do in preparation for school this morning.

just as a bit of context, we dropped off aiden last night at my sister's place, where he will be staying as he takes courses over at uh manoa. it was a bit sad, a bit exciting. from here on out, the house will be that much emptier during the week (he still plans to come home during the weekends)...

OH YES. i did see someone when we walked over in kaimuki to get dinner. i recall her name right now, but in the moment, i couldn't. in fact, when i saw her, i almost didn't recognize her, and didn't call out to her. i feel guilty for that. i am thinking of seeking her out if she's still there. there are some people who are incredibly kind and giving, and yet may be in desperate need. i feel it's my obligation to reach out and provide some kind of assistance...

dream: 8/14/2022

there were several fragments to this dream. initially, we seemed to be in this house or restaurant. it was a group of workers, eating or meeting together, teachers from my new school. the spirit was at first jovial. then one of the teachers offered to cut people's hair for a low price ($11 and some change). everyone was joking around, until one of the spouses of the teachers saw a little fragment of a bang on the front of his head... and when everyone imagined what it would look like if it were symmetrical (since only one side was cut at the time), this man suddenly became irate. he threw down his money, and mentioned something about it being the worst $11 he'd ever spent, and then he tried to get out of the place.

the "place," by the way, suddenly transformed into this large almost palatial building, filled with large, red curtained ballrooms, and connected by wide staircases. in the ballrooms were a series of almost animatronic entertainment, featuring vignettes from the beatles and other shows. in fact, there was a kind of pattern to things: 2 mini rooms devoted to beatles in laser holograph animated style, 2 rooms devoted to something else, etc... in any case, it seemed as though everything was closing (maybe the catalyst was that irate spouse), and there were workers shutting it all down. they were even rolling up the staircases, or at least putting some kind of pink plastic sheet over them- i almost got caught beneath one of them, the workers were so eager to leave...

i'm not sure when, but at some point i was trying to get from one building (the one we were in) to an adjacent building (the dormitories). supposedly, the way i was supposed to go involved getting on this plastic ladder that was suspended from one narrow window in this building to a window in the dormitory. in between, it was suspended i don't know how many stories above the ground between the buildings. on this side, the ladder was at the top of a heap of plastic storage bins, so it didn't inspire confidence in terms of being secure. the other issue was- strangely- that i could change the angle of the building just by putting my weight on the floor... in any case, despite people saying that this was the only way to the dorm, i opted to go the normal way- find the ground level and walk across...

on the way- here, i started getting tenrikyo vibes- i realized that, despite my feelings of exhaustion, that i needed to "grin and bear it"- and i remembered feeling/thinking this as i walked up some stairs over red carpet- that i had to be some kind of role model, simply in order to get through this ordeal... in any case, i eventually reached the dormitories, and to my room, meeting a couple of the dorm workers on the ground office, one of whom looked awfully familiar from my tenrikyo days (he was a somewhat awkward guy whom i'd initially considered my senior, but who- it turns out- examined my academic and spiritual path, and tried to copy it- perhaps imagining that i'd found some kind of "answer" to life that he desperately needed...). there was some comment from the dorm workers- which at the moment eludes me- and then... i don't remember.

odd dream...

in any case, i woke (or worked out) an insight into the story i'm writing... something about how two people are falling asleep, and want to share the same dream, so they hold hands. but this is a fantasy. they actually end up dreaming of other people, significant people in their own separate lives.

7/10/2022

things were a bit busy. i was working for the gen cyber camp about a week after the regular school year ended... and then immediately after that, i started the 4 week summer hub. i put a lot of time and energy and planning into all of these things, because i really want to make the learning experiences (and i emphasize that they are experiences) fun and rewarding and profitable. on top of that, i have been preparing for my new position at the middle school, where i will be teaching (as of now) 7th graders in all subjects for resource... it always takes me a while to get back into taking care of myself, and taking care of my passions. as i've said before, life is complex, because you are straddling an infinite number of infinities. your role is to decide and structure life in a way that makes sense to you- otherwise, the world tears you apart- or at the very least, leaves you with this nagging dissatisfaction (did i leave the water running?). if you don't impose some structure upon the world, then you will always worry about it. because there are always things to worry about...

today, i decided that i would devote some time to "projects" (things that must or should be done). in particular, i fixed a bike that's been upside down in the yard for (i am not exaggerating) years. and i started my seedling factory. there were a few more things that i could've done, a few other impossibles or difficults, but i felt i had done enough to warrant me passing to another phase of my day. so the rest of the day, i've been working on my self. it's a routine that i employed, most effectively about a couple of years ago at the start of the pandemic. i just go over some things that i think make me stronger or smarter, or which i simply enjoy. when i "fall off the wagon," as i did last year- due in large part to a significant amount of external responsibilities, so i don't particularly feel guilty about it- then i tend to neglect myself, and i become like this untended yard, that starts to develop its own jungle of weeds... if i don't want that to happen, if i don't want entropy to creep into my life, then i have to keep on top of things. take care of myself. so in this moment, i am.

the wind is blowing. i love the sound of the wind... except when it starts to drag the branches of the nearby bottlebrush tree against the eaves of the house... but other than that, i like the sound of the wind. it makes everything seem clean. motion. current. flow... life is, or ideally is, flow. when we are disconnected from flow, in any way, then we are left with our own inertia and stillness, and resistance. and we wonder what disconnects us from ourselves and from life? because in stillness (which is a fiction?) we start to fall apart. we start to analyze. the glue that once held us to love and life is suddenly absent... maybe we are on different parts of this spectrum in life. and at different moments, with different challenges, we must learn to appreciate our position, understand it, in order to reconnect to it. old age. the loss of possibilities...

yes, that reminds me. about a week ago, i went to a dance party with my wife. it was a "new wave" party (meaning they were supposed to play music like the cure and depeche mode). i looked at the people around me, and found most of them looked tired and old- has beens. and yet, they were hungry for life. they were moving their bodies, in unexpected and sometimes unappetizing ways. i wasn't sure how to react to that. like should i join them in this unappealing frenzy? or should i be dignified as the grave? i kept my eyes, for the most part during the dances, on my wife- her happiness, her cute dances... and that saved me. as long as i have her as a partner, no matter how the world changes, how we change, we can see joy and find joy in each other... but it still left me with this question, which i suppose will repeat with greater and greater insistence as i grow older- how do appreciate life when less and less of it seems relevant or beautiful to you, or from you? will i still have a voice to sing or speak soon? would the world even hear my words from beneath the croaking of my voice? things like that.

in any case, i have no choice but to keep writing, to keep singing, to keep playing music, to keep doing art. it's not "therapeutic." it's existential.

dream: 6/13/2022

first off, apologies for not writing in some time. things have been hectic, yada yada yada.

i had one of those "i'm not authentic" kind of dreams. this time, it had something to do with me teaching a class related to chinese medicine, and realized that i was out of practice as an herbalist. i was constructing an herbal formula, something written by someone else, and i was gathering the ingredients. one of them looked like some origami star folded out of some red paper coated with some iridescent substance. i thought it odd, until, as i was trying to measure everything out, i realized that the paper origami itself contained the actual herb, which started to tumble out... anyway, as i was doing this, another intern was constructing his formula, and seeing a lot of my blatant transgressions, seemed about to say something. i felt ashamed, being some sort of instructor, and gathered all of my herbs, leaving quite a mess of the place... as i wandered through the chaotic school, i passed a column or wall of books- most meaningless to me- and heard a student voice a question, something about how to read a passage in chinese- to which some teacher out of view replied, in clear mandarin, the sentence, emphasizing the 4 tones... i felt even more out of my element, and wished that i were not there- a fake, a charlatan, etc.

that left me here. i'm about to start teaching summer hub. i'm not fake or a charlatan here. i actually think in this context that i am a very capable teacher. but the feeling, that of being inauthentic, stuck with me. then i was thinking of my story, which i have to write (i have a weekly homework assignment now). and i was thinking of a situation of living someone else's dream, and feeling out of control. i was thinking of this being either the protagonist's situation, or a surrogate's situation. in the dream, there are many characters, and some represent, not necessarily different people, but more accurately different strategies or energies latent within one individual. the strongest voiced is, of course, kappa-chino, who acts out of selfish anger, and tries to convert every dream into "proper gander" to fuel his war against all humans- mainly because he does not wish to confront the evil within himself. but yagoro is a character who doesn't have much of a voice, but is inherently one of the wisest in the pantheon of the dream. he isn't the "wise man," necessarily, but is closest to the protagonist in spirit, because he is a humble seeker, tortured by "waters beyond his making," and questioning what his place is in the universe if he is caught in a current that he does not agree with, and never chose... this is similar to the feeling i just had, that of being caught up in a dream or a situation that you did not make or choose, but you have to make the best of it, and somehow "be authentic."

we'll see how that goes. it's going to be a busy day, because after my summer hub (which itself is kind of a gamble), then i will have to go to my future school to attempt to "unpack" a few things... i'm nervous about starting at a new school.

dream: 3/21/2022

i had that nightmare yet again... the recurring nightmare, modified in some respects, about coming to school completely unprepared... here, i thought i was going to class to have some prep for a final, only to realize that it WAS the final. the professor was passing out those little blue books, and i could see that students were seating themselves apart from each other. i reluctantly took my book and found my seat... ostensibly, it was a calculus exam; i could hear the professor mention to the class something about the final problem. i took a quick glance at that problem: #29 or something, and heard from a distance about how a lengthy proof was required... even though it was supposed to be on calculus, the initial questions had more to do with history or religion. the last problem that i eventually woke up in the middle of had to do with a special class of ritualists known as the sword makers or sword builders (i even saw a made up japanese name for them, something like "ogori no ..."). the question was asking why, among all ritualists, they were forgiven for such things as tardiness and other violations, even when precision was required in some ceremonies. i was slowly writing my response in sloppy, panicked handwriting, something about how these "sword makers" were so vital to various ceremonies and rites and so specialized, that they were afforded some liberties that other ceremonial professionals were not. in the middle of my response, supposedly in these untampered blue books, i noticed that my friend had put a big colorful sticker on the bottom of one of the pages. in desperation, i spent some time scratching it out, and then putting some sort of tape over it, trying to decide which looked more "professional." in the end, i scratched it out, and wrote a lame "sorry" next to it, before proceeding to the next page.

i remember seeing my roommates calmly talking about something completely unrelated (apparently, in this final, people could still talk once they were done). i asked them if they were done. they both replied, "of course." i was incredulous. it still seemed like the beginning of the final period, and i was writing my hand off, and it seemed impossible, just from the sheer volume of writing that was required, that anyone would finish that early. but they were done. in fact, it seemed that most people were done. everyone was calmly going about their business as though this- all of it- were a piece of cake... and i felt alone, struggling, desperate... as i have felt at many instances throughout my life.

i rolled over in my sleep and awoke, eyes still closed, to the darkness. i remember that i had to struggle, and stop myself from continuing my dream's train of thought, to write, to come up with the ending of that particular sentence... there was this thing i had to do, wrapped up in fear... and outside of it, in this empty darkness, was a sort of relaxed oblivion... which, actually, was the true remembering. of course, i "evaporated" from the one to the other, taking me here.

[maybe: this is like death.]

3/16/2022

it's been a long time since i wrote. i suppose i have been in a funk. maybe i always am in a funk. anyway, although it is spring break, i have basically been working with our robotics team every day. i alternate between going to the school and going to the beach. it's okay, i guess, but i still feel anxious about being prepared for the actual tournament. anxious and tired.

i played a game called "omori" mainly because my daughter recommended it highly. in a way, i got really attached to the characters, and felt devastated by the tragedy which befalls them. i thought the game conveyed mental illness in a perceptive way. it left me feeling simultaneously drained and hopeful.

after playing the game yesterday, i worked on weeding the front yard. i felt motivated to really push through. there is yet one corner of the lawn that i haven't touched much. but i really tried to push through it. the weeds there are of a particular sort, they have round leaves (sort of like the spreading clover), but underneath, they create this mesh of roots that dig deep into the ground. so to pull them requires me to really dig and pull at the same time, so that i get their tap roots out of the ground. what i mean to say is that it takes a lot of effort to progress. i suppose that that effort (and i suppose any effort) fills me with a sense of despair, and i have been avoiding that feeling for a long time. i have been avoiding it with regards to many things, so that i end up feeling sort of numb.

i mean, i have been putting what effort i can into work. but it's a kind of day-by-day thing. there's no overarching vision that i have, nothing that inspires or motivates me. it's just negotiating through the present day. and the best you have in this sort of mode is a feeling of survival, it's not really a feeling of general accomplishment.

i look upon people like my father-in-law or my own father as people who managed to push through. who take the time to complete things. and they seem so clean. morally. i don't know. i for some reason hesitate to push through to the ends of things. mainly because many things, it seems, have no end. and also because i am just so tired. so tired of life and its many endless needs... that always seem pointless... is that the depression talking? i am not sure. is that old age talking? i am not sure.

most of life seems a pointless illusion.

there are things that i believe in. i believe in people's happiness. i try to guard it, protect it... but then maybe that's part of my problem. i don't see beyond their smiles, or their lack of a smile. i don't see beyond the superficialities of things. or maybe i don't want to. because that would mean that i would need to involve myself more. push through. dig deeper. etc. and i'm too tired to do that. so tired...

but anyway, as i was saying, i felt a kind of quiet hope after playing omori. it's not exactly something i can articulate. it was more an openness to push through. i don't know if that can work with the story writing, etc. because it always seems to lead to some sort of tangle and snarl. it's not as though i have ever found that moment of clarity when it seems you have pushed through...

there is always a voice inside of my head saying, "what's the point?" but sometimes i do things anyway. because nothing, ultimately, has a point. sometimes we do things not because they are rational or because they have worth. sometimes we just follow the current within ourselves. and i suppose... that's okay. because as long as we are trying to be true to ourselves, and honor truth in general, i suppose that leads to the path we're supposed to go on. right?

in other words, maybe it's okay not to be perfect all the time. maybe it's okay to feel tired. i try my best, and sometimes it take my best just to make it through each day... and then i collapse, trying to dream for the next day. and that's okay. that's okay...

i hope you're okay, non-existent reader.

3/3/2022

if you spend your life effacing yourself, then you shouldn't complain when no one sees you, or even misses you when you're gone.

*****

yesterday was my birthday. it's kind of a milestone birthday, although i don't want to mention it. i usually don't feel good around this time of year. like, sometimes i feel physically ill, or in other years, i just get into a deep emotional rut. this year, i was just really - tired. kind of feeling blah. i came home after teaching at school, even though i had some (rare) empty time, and i could've basically done anything... but i came home, and the first thing i did was lay on the sofa in the garage and crash. i didn't really fall into full sleep, but i sort of drifted for a couple of useless hours (a bit less than a couple) before i got up (reluctantly) and went to my other job teaching at the acupuncture school. these routines i follow, i began to think about how long i have retraced these steps, respoke these words... i am an echo of myself. a copy of a copy. i can live this life without even thinking, really... and i think about the dreams i have, of writing, of finishing something, the same dreams that have haunted me for years, and the idea that i am no closer now than years ago makes me feel a quiet and desperate despair... also, there's a realization that even were i to finish, no one would read it- as no one read my self-published book - and so i would still essentially be cycling/spinning wheels on a gearless bike, not moving forward, not getting anywhere... and maybe if that's the case, maybe all these dreams, all these hopes, were for naught.

... no, i don't entirely think that. just sometimes i do. in my daily job, i try to give fully of myself. i really try. i don't think most people, or many people, or perhaps any people, see this. maybe it's this feeling of generosity that fails me. sometimes i think the best teachers are the ones who don't care... or more precisely, they care more about themselves, about their own survival, than they do about their charges. and that's why they're able to make things work. they're able to force the pieces of their lives to turn like perfect gears... they reshape their students in the process... my mentality, aside from "pushing" people to do things that will help them, aside from relentless encouragement, it is to allow people to be themselves. in all their chaos. and that leads to mess and frequent disappointment... i don't know if that leads to better results, better people... but it is my way. and i don't think, at this late stage in the game, that i can change it...

*****

the danger of growing old is... i guess it is that you are less able to generate or believe in your own illusions. maybe also the illusions of others... some might say that is the benefit of age. it's the whole "wisdom" part we're supposed to think is the "fruit" of all that living... but it's a bitter fruit. and it disallows some of the stupid and impossible and "felt" aspects of life. i honestly think, at times, that the foolhardiness of youth, or rather, the foolhardiness IS youth, that innocence and stumbling progress IS what youth consists of... so when people ask that stupid question of what i would do, knowing what i know, if i could be young again... well, at times, i think it's an impossible question- not because you can't really go back- but because even if you could, it would still be impossible, because you would still miss out on what was essential to that time in your life, which is the magic of not knowing. in essence, going back would just bring the tired perspective of old age to an earlier point in the game... it would be like replaying the same game from level 1, after you've solved the game. all of the magical things you saw when you first played would be seen as tired and pointless things... that's what i think sometimes, anyway... when i am down.

*****

i still reflect on my lack of friends... it's no surprise that that's the case, that i have very few friends. i don't put any effort into "cultivating" or "supporting" relationships. i don't reach out... i think for me life has been about putting yourself, your full effort, into things, into activities, etc. and friends were just- ancillary- to that process. they were your comrades in arms... the people you hung out with when you were tired... the people that accepted you as you were... just sort of a passive release, a reflex. like the recoil of your lungs on an exhale...

and maybe that's part of the point... that i don't feel i can relax with most people. there is always a concern to address... and i always raise concerns, like walls, to keep people out... i know i do that. why do i do that? maybe a part of me just doesn't want to hear it. i just don't want to feel disturbed... and maybe that's the crux, that i love the quiet churning of my own whirlpool heart more than i love the disturbance that would result from letting someone in, letting someone out...

*****

i would like to be remembered as someone who cared.

but i think that it won't be like that, so much. i think in life that there are some people who attract attention and love to themselves like a magnet. and there are others who are immune to that dimension of pushes and pulls, people that are like the dead rocks that have no iron in them, that just fall to the floor when you try to stick them to a magnet... and that's just the way it is. you can't change the laws of the universe, or the laws of yourself.

"it's okay," he tells his student. "it's okay." repeatedly to say that. almost as though it is to convince himself of it. that this is the way things are. and the world may not love you. but in this moment, i will love you. i will find a place in my heart for you. remember this please. because it is the only gift i have to give, only in this moment. and then i will be gone.

i hold you to me in the way that words can, only so long as you remember them, and pay attention to them. once you forget, once you move on, then maybe that bond is lost.

*****

it's still early, on this first day of being whatever age i am. i'm going to try to sleep and dream. most of what i am now is the desire to forget... in those moments when i wake, i murmur my love to those few around me who stay, my wife, my children, my dog (yes, i love him)... a circle that surrounds me and is me... and i try to go back to sleep, again, to the dream that is my life.

dream 2/24/2022

as is often the case, i recall the second dream very vividly, and after recounting it, i recall threads of the earlier dream only vaguely. so i will talk about the second dream first.

there was this movie called shang chi and the ten rings. i saw it. but anyway, in the dream, there appeared to be this part where, in order to join this team- and, indeed, for the audience, in order for the storyline and the movie to proceed, each person had to stab their own heart, and then put something in it. i was desperately trying to do it. i tried to use these blunt wooden objects, and press them in various places on my heart (now that i think about it, there are definitely connections to my previous dream, which i hope to highlight later). in any case, i was unsuccessful at first. i started to realize that maybe i was pushing in the wrong place. maybe i was pushing directly into the sternum. so i had to shift my location slightly to the left, so i wasn't just trying to press directly into the bone, but was accessing an intercostal space- the fourth intercostal to be exact (i used to be an ekg tech, so i know about using the 4th intercostal on the left side- it's one of the places we put the stickers for the ekg machine). anyway, even with the shift in position, the whole stabbing the heart thing wasn't working. finally, someone handed me a plastic butter knife, the kind with a slight serration on one end. and i decided to try it. and guess what- gradually it worked! this whole part of the dream was extremely vivid- i could feel something gradually going into my heart... when i pulled out the knife, some thick purple blood began to escape the wound, and as my heart beated, thin jets would squirt out. i got whatever it was i was supposed to get to plug the wound and put it in...

anyway, from that point on, the movie was supposed to proceed, the storyline was allowed to proceed. so i took my seat in the movie theater. i was waiting for the movie to begin, and just scanning some of the faces in the audience. it was at that point that i saw my sister, with some of her friends. and then, i noticed some of her friends had boyfriends, and that their significant others had faces that i recognized- maybe people off of my fb friends feed. and then i saw jani (brother's wife) and then my brother himself. and then i saw min, who is my friend, but who also is a good friend of my brother's. i saw all of these people sitting around me, laughing, having fun. they were all one big social group. and then i began to feel betrayed. i may have written about my strained relationship with my brother (in real life, i haven't spoken to him since 2010)... but i felt betrayed by everyone. in real life, i have been trying to meet with my sister, take her to lunch or dinner, but she has always said she was busy. that fact from real life seemed to bleed into the dream, and i thought, she said she was too busy to meet me, yet here she is with all of these friends, and with my own older brother... and min, who is ostensibly my friend, who was my friend first before i introduced him to my brother- i saw that he preferred to spend time with my brother rather than me. and i felt so incredibly betrayed and alone. i didn't want to be seen by all of these people, so i went off to find a seat of my own, far away from everyone (i remembered i was wearing a lab coat for some reason). unfortunately, min had seen me, and he started to follow me. in irritation, i just left the entire movie theater, and remember walking down the fire escape stairs...

couple things about my little stunt (stabbing my heart)... i recall (before the movie started) overhearing someone talking about how he had done something similar ( i could see a wound on his chest, plugged up by yellow wax ).... i recalled or saw an outtake from the movie about how they tried to get some korean stunt guy to actually do what i had done, but even he backed out...

so there was this other level of betrayal, that i had been the only one stupid enough to actually do what the movie encouraged... even though it asked it of everyone... and not even the actors in the movie itself- not a single person- had dared to do it... yes, so i felt stupid for having done it.

*****

in the previous thread of the dream, i was a vampire. i was this older female vampire. i had had a couple of acolytes, servants, who were not aware that i was a vampire. somehow at one point, they decided- or were charged with the task of- killing vampires. before they realized i was one, i tried to make my escape. i don't recall what i did initially to get away. but i remember jumping off the edge of some freeway into a large lake... and as my former servants were shooting crossbow bolts into the water, i made my way underwater to an island within the center of the lake. i seemed to be looking for a location that was suitable for something, perhaps to build a fortress or maybe to have a last stand. anyway, i saw an island that was covered in scraggly pines, and had orange clay like soil. i remember distinctly this cliff formation on one end of the island. because at one point, i was at the top of the cliff, and my servants were trying to hunt me down, and i tried to hide by hanging off the edge of the cliff... i slipped, i believe, and fell- not necessarily to my death, but down to the bottom of the cliff... and i think that's when the idea of stabbing me through the heart came up... because the servants realized that that was the best way to kill me...

*****

anyway, when i woke up from the second dream, there was this incredible feeling of aloneness and betrayal. i felt like all of these people were having secret get togethers around me and leaving me out... perhaps some of it was due to listening to this story on npr about how people nowadays do not have friends (i think the tag line was that a study had showed that up to 50% of people do not have a single close friend). and that got me to thinking about who my friends are. and not just facebook friends (the story on npr actually distinguished between online contacts and what they described were "embodied" friendships, that is, contacts that you actually met in person). and i thought about how i don't have any "embodied" friendships... not really. there is the aforementioned min... but he's really dean's friend now. and in any case, i did nothing to initiate or even really maintain that friendship. it was and generally has been all him... so i started to think about what's wrong with me, why do i not have any real friends (aside from my wife). why am i so unfriendly?

it's not necessarily that i miss it. maybe it's something that has been so absent in my life that i don't even feel its lack any more...

my daughter has been wrestling with some of the same issues... although people want to have a relationship with her, she simply isn't interested. i recall myself, for most of my life, consumed by an intense loneliness, desiring some sort of relationship to help me feel human... i have a hard time understanding her, on the other side, propositioned repeatedly, but declining, out of an absence of feeling... but now, maybe i am the same as her. discontinuous with the human race...

i think my mentality, my job, all of it, are "surrogates" for true relationship. my desire for "art" (which, in my head, is the absence of an audience which paradoxically is only enlivened by pretending an interested audience) - it is a way to keep people away from me, it is an "aesthetic" attempt to relate to people but in reality it keeps everyone away from me... my job- my passion/compassion to help people- which i feel is real- maybe is a compensation for my inability or unwillingness to have truly "embodied" friendships... there is a sense of bitterness maybe, or, as in the dream, a betrayal... this sense of having been wounded in the heart, and thus, alone in that woundedness... somehow that wound makes me different from everyone else, unable to relate to anyone... that's the feeling, the overall feeling, i got from the dream...

i woke from the dream, and even though it is 3 am, i recounted it verbally to my wife. she said, "why wasn't i in the dream?" and i told her, "yeah. in dreaming and in real life, you're my only friend."

my only friend.

i went to a funeral recently for my student's father... anyway, it got me to thinking, if i died, who would come? who would care that i was gone? and i thought, maybe a few people, out of an obligation. but no one who was really my friend. no one who would miss me- viscerally. yes, people would stop seeing me go from place to place, running my stupid errands. but no one who actually had real conversations with me, or who really cared what was going on in my head or my heart (for that matter, when was the last time that i spent the time to listen to people - not my charges, not my students - but real people that are my age, or adults in any case?)... when was the last time that i really cared about the people around me? and not just "do something for them." because i always am doing something for people. it's my job, among other things... but just be open and vulnerable and allow a connection to form? i have always been moving, moving, moving... building art bridges... learning languages... etc. etc. etc. the accumulation of skills... but not really connecting to people. i don't know how. and i maybe don't want to... but i wish - secretly? - that i could have friends.

dream 2/20/2022

i had a couple of dreams...

in one, i was in some house in a colder climate (i could see the mountains outside covered in pines, and an expansive but cold sky). the house i was in was neglected... there were these- not exactly roaches, but more like these sort of bugs that invaded my aquaponics system, these wet roly-poly bugs- crawling all over the place on the wooden floors. and kate, one of my fellow teachers, kept discovering reasons for the infestation; like she found this bunch of uneaten food down one of the drains or something...

...

in another more disturbing dream...

my car, the blue bomber, was in some canal, with other cars. i suppose there was some flood or something. i needed papers from it. i suppose i had realized that i was taking courses over at williams, on wednesdays or tuesdays or something, but in my business, they had become lesser priorities and as a result, i had completely neglected them; there were finals coming up that i had to check on and study for. my papers, or i hoped, some of them, were in the car. only trouble was was the car was in the middle of this canal of water. so i leapt from the sidewalk onto my car (there was a bit of an audience)... i realized that if i opened up anything (my door) that the water would flood into the car (it was halfway up the side of the car). so i crawled around the car like a monkey... the car, disturbed by my presence on it, began to drift... there were deeper holes in the ground that threatened to pull the car under, and i didn't want that to happen... i avoided them, but suddenly the car tumbled down this ledge, and fell on its back side... and then tumbled until it was right side up again... somehow that dream faded into the next one, which also looked at things from the perspective of water...

...

i was like 007 or something in this large mansion of death. there were zombies everywhere, red with blood, their faces unrecognizable, some of them spewing out their guts... the white marble of the mansion was red with gore and blood. there was a sort of venetian moat travelling through the center of the mansion. somehow my view of everything was from this moat, which was occupied by some monstrous crocodile... the crocodile was being fed by the body parts raining down from above... when i found myself again, i was on the underside of a bridge, one of the very few places that were still somewhat clean. i was clinging onto it for dear life... there was some control panel on the underside of the bridge which i seemed to be messing with... however, i was discovered by some zombie...

...

i was in the mansion itself. there was still the sense of death, or at least, that i was doomed, a prisoner. but there were no zombies visible. only different agents of some cruel man. these agents looked swarthy, like from some south asian country, malaysia, singapore, vietnam... i wasn't sure. but they had these smiles that communicated that they would very much like to kill me... i can't remember the details, but somehow i made my escape, ran as fast as i could down a corridor outside... and i could see their smiles, relaxed and assured as though they knew my escape was entirely impossible...

i somehow got into the streets, where there were more people. there were prostitutes, unattractive, malnourished, waiting around some structure like a bus stop... i was caught, and as i was being dragged on the ground by the agents, i saw a band of mendicant monks dressed in yellow (although it was clear that they had abandoned their religiosity long ago). there was a midget monk with a japanese face. he said "kiru" (cut) and wielded an ugly little knife. i spoke to him: "nihonjin?" (japanese?) and he nodded yes, before i continued to be dragged away...

...

my perspective seemed to shift, and i was no longer the person being dragged. instead, i was a young spritely girl jumping over the crowds, on structures and statues that lined the orange-lighted streets... at one point, it seemed that i was on some sort of pyramid like structure, with stairs going up into the night sky. a woman and her child beside me mentioned something about jesus christ in korean, about how that would save me, but even in the dream, i kind of scoffed at that, and simply made my way up and beyond... i kept doing this and doing this, until...

i was in the alcove of some museum of history. there were various historical structures lining both sides of the entrance alcove. i had been clamboring on top of the structures, gradually making my way to the entrance. there was a girl beside me. i realized that something was off in the order of the statues, off in the sense that it was different from when i had passed this way before (apparently, i had gone on this before). i had remembered there was a structure (with a bird head) that was particularly unstable. there had been an order at the end of the sequence, something like: western western eastern... and it was different now.

- i also had the insight- not sure if it was when i was in the museum or before- that some civilizations just had too much "culture." the statues were so ornate as to be unrecognizable and- messy. and i wondered if some cultures were like people, who wearied of the accumulation of ideas and things- most of them useless and meaningless- and if cultures ever wanted to just forget and begin again, clean of the past... 

anyway, i had a debate with the girl and the curator of the museum who showed up... they doubted whether anything was wrong with the sequence. but the curator started talking about how they wanted to sequence the pieces by "the human heart." and she started speaking with a dramatic flourish (in french), something about the progression of "liberte!" and i countered that it should simply be ordered by history...

and that was it. that was all i could remember...

*****

i am still having a hard time writing. i think the part of the dream about weary cultures is related to me, to my weariness of writing this useless avalanche of a story in my head. why can't i just write little pieces, to match my short asthmatic breath? 

*****

i've had a kind of epiphany. i really have been trying to work out the "plot" of this convoluted story i'd started to write called "kappa noodle." i had considered using a strategy of writing different plot points on notecards, and "connecting" them on a corkboard (similar to what detectives always do when they are trying to hunt a serial killer)... the trouble was that i would start writing a notecard, and then get pulled in- i would attempt to answer a question about a character, say, motivation, and then get tangled in a thousand other questions... it really felt like - (and i just came from this) - pulling a bundle of vines that are smothering up a tree... everything wraps around everything else...

when i look at the dream, at least some parts of it... i think that the structures represent the plot points. the girl jumping over them is the prospective reader (or maybe the writer, planning things out). the comment about ditching the accumulation of culture is perhaps a part of myself, that is tired of trying to work out this gordian knot, and would just like a clean break from it all... and the discussion with the museum curator represents a kind of debate within me; on the one hand, of maintaining "historicity" (which in this context relates to logical sequencing), versus the progression of the "human heart" (which in this context means following the significance, the feeling, the drama - or, alternatively, of just going by feel, not by logic). the exclamation of "liberte" represents the feeling of freedom promised by that perspective...

at least, that's what i THINK is being said.

dream 2/13/2022

had another dream of sorts... for context, i have been struggling with the plot of the story i'm trying to write. and by struggling, it literally feels like it is whittling me down into madness... anyway, from what i recall of this dream: we had started to redesign our house so that it had elements of nature indoors. like, in the middle of one room, right in the middle of the carpet, was a tree growing straight to the roof. or rather, there were a bunch of treelets, because they hadn't exactly grown into one trunk yet... oddly enough, there were trees also growing out of me, like out of my leg, because i guess at one point part of the plan was that i stand in the center of all of it, and be like part of this tree growing in the middle of the room...

in another room, there was a system of ponds.... like, again, right in the middle of the room. i was concerned, because there were parts were the pond wasn't bordered well, and i could feel the water leaking into the surrounding carpet. at first, the pond seemed very small and shallow. in fact, it had nothing living in it. but as i looked closer, there were snails in it (little water snails), and then goldfish... and before i knew it, there was this giant snapping turtle, which swiftly crossed over the paltry bamboo fence around the pond. i followed it, and while it passed over a white towel on the floor in the kitchen, it left a long trail of yellow poop on the floor. i tried to catch it, but as i rounded a corner, it kind of disappeared. i returned to the pond, hoping it had returned... as i did so, i noticed some wriggling in the carpet, and saw the legs of a giant harvester spider... and then, before i knew it, there was a wooden scorpion, some kind of cross between a harvester spider and a scorpion... it was attacking me. its legs were so thin they were basically invisible to me, so when i fought it, it was more a matter of just randomly flailing. after a while, i started running from it, and it quickly pursued me around the house...

*****

my story simply grows more incongruous. i am trying to map the plot, etc. etc. to find the structure, the plan, of the story... but i keep getting pulled into wrestling with details... like, if i do this, then how is it consistent with that? what is the motivation of this character? why would he/she care? it really eats away at me. oftentimes, i just lie on this couch and am rambling to myself about details of the plot. sometimes i dream obsessively about some detail, and it seems i have come up with a solution, but really, it's just repeating some stupid aphorism over and over... when i wake the inconsistencies are still there... i have struggled out a basic structure to the plot, but it seems... i don't know... i have to flesh it out... i think, unfortunately, that my process is never clean, and it involves a  degree of suffering, of measuring out my own flesh to cut and eat...

i feel like i am falling into depression. i feel like i am going mad. i am becoming somewhat neglectful and tired and arthritic and whatever... and i don't seem to particularly care. i long for sleep, but then i hate sleep. but it pulls me down relentlessly. i want the promise of a dream, a dream that would liberate me. not the sort of dreams i get, these nightmares, these ugly things. these meaningless things...

dream: 1/23/2022

this was a dream (of sorts). the trigger to remember it was the moon knight, because a lot of these so-called phase 4 marvel characters were in it, supposedly. what i can recall is that there was this weird character who sort of wore this red dead-poolish thing over his head, along with a backwards tie... and at the same time, there was this youngish korean/japanese girl who kept following him, and trying to communicate with him. there was some kind of connection between the two... and they kept meeting each other at "events," like massacres or odd phenomenon (like some kind of interdimensional portal)... there were other characters, it seems, but for some reason, i can only remember those two clearly...

this dream sort of occurred to me as i was rolling on the carpet beside my wife, who was lying on the downstairs sofa... it wasn't exactly comfortable, although i had once prided myself on the ability to sleep on a hard floor... it required me changing positions periodically in order to "balance out" the bruises, so to speak (no, there were no bruises to speak of)...

i'm kind of in a limbo with regards to writing, and other things. it feels like everything "real"- work particularly- is coming to a head. i don't know how else to describe it... i am incredibly tired at it all. the way the world doesn't work. the way that each little incremental step forward is accompanied by failure of yet another joint in the machinery... if entropy is so all-encompassing, why fight it? why not just let it all fall to shit? that's what i ask myself, in my more weary moments...

dream: 1/17/2022

there were fragments of a dream. over all, it seemed a happy one. there was some posting or something put out by the mililani high school track/cross country team, and there were a few photos/videos with me in it (i ran track in my freshman year, cross country in my sophomore year, and quit - dramatically - from track in my sophomore year). some of them were absurd. like there was one where the entire team of runners was hooked up like horses to some roman chariot, and horace (our coach) was kind of whipping us all along... things like that. anyway, i decided to share some of this with my friends on facebook. only, i was somehow able to enter into their real lives to do this. i may have attempted to share this with people like clifton, but what i remember was visiting greg fastabend. for some reason, he was in the middle of college, perhaps into his sophomore year (whereas i had not started college yet, for some reason). i was giving him perspective- strange, because in the dream, i was the same age- something about how quick college went, and asked him questions about where he was going to in the future. he made some comments about how he was going to be some sort of engineer, and work with [blank] (i can't remember). anyway, i showed him the pictures/videos, and he smiled for a time. then he started to get some things together to give to me, a whole bunch of old robotics stuff, and a bandolier (sp?) of tiny computer cameras...

that was it.

i've been kind of mopey lately. not really working hard at anything. trying to fall asleep a lot of the time. i think i'm still recovering from my stupid illness last week at work, as well as just trying to keep up with the incredible complexities of my work... i'd like to write, secretly, but i want it to be on my terms- like this cute detective work sort of thing, where i keep various notebooks, and write things that can always be considered progress, no matter what- no writing complete dead ends, or dead prose, or anything... always on the up and up. happy thoughts.

i love my wife, but i am so pathetic at planning anything for her. it was her birthday yesterday. tonight, we took her swimming and then we ate hot pot. simple stuff, but she seemed happy. i told her, as she was half asleep, that i wanted to be with her forever... that she was my best friend... and she murmured in her sleep happily. i was telling the truth. i cannot conceive of life without her. she is - i don't know- the river that flows my life along. without it, without her, i would dry up and die.

1/8/2022

i came upon an epiphany of sorts... first of all, let me say it's been a crazy couple of days. immediately after my first day with students, i developed a fever with chills and bodyaches. i got tested. it took them about 24 hours to get my result, which was negative. but in the meantime, i was practically delirious with fever dreams. it felt like my brain was boiling, and thoughts were seething upwards in meaningless repetitive cycles. i know i was mouthing off a lot of it, as though i were trying to let the "steam" escape...

so one of the things i thought about was, of course, how much i hate my brother. and i still do. but i realized something. whenever you hate someone you split the universe in half. and that universe includes you. the way it works is this. you start to look at the qualities of the person you hate. for example, for my brother, it is his selfishness, his greed, his arrogance... basically, the way that his feelings take up all of the air in the room... some of those qualities exist in everyone, including myself. so when i "hate" him, i also split away those aspects within myself, because i find them unacceptable...

what that led to, in me, was this sort of split current. on the one hand, there was the life that i wanted, with all the beautiful people... and on the other hand, there was this lesser place that i inhabited, playing the helpless, hapless "nice guy," who cannot for the life of himself admit his inner wants or desires- he would literally disappear in a puff of smoke if he ever dared mention anything relating to these things... this in turn led to this mentality that the only way "in" to that other world, that beautiful world that he so "deserved" (this, too, is a construct; there is no deserving anything) was for someone to see in him the value that he could not advertise himself. in other words, for me, a woman was someone who could "see" me, who would work to "translate" my own inscrutable heart, and would liberate me... somehow it had to be a woman. maybe it has to do with mother figures, etc., but in the world of men, and "brotherly" friendship, you earned respect through silence and what you did. so i had no problems getting by there. sure, i wasn't the braggart and blowhard that my brother was, but i could survive in that world...

it's a trap, of course. you cannot adopt that role, you cannot disallow yourself from being selfish and acting on your own wants, and be whole. the "nice guy" always lives frustrated, because he cannot break beyond the bounds of his own self-constrained "niceness." no one, not even angels, have the temerity and perseverance to "love" such a person. why bother, when he will never see himself truly, because he has always already blinded himself to himself?

it becomes like a koan. you have an irreconcilable difference. a conceptual gap that you are straddling. what is there to do?

*****

i still hate my brother, of course, for the things he did to my sister. one day, i will sit with my sister and have her recount exactly what he did to her. and i will try to learn from her how she goes through her life, day by day. maybe if i understood that, then i wouldn't feel so angry. or maybe i would feel more angry, who knows... but at least i can see that the qualities i paint my brother with, well, they also paint me, so i shouldn't be so absolutist in my strokes.

1/4/2022

today was the second day of work since winter break. our school was lucky in that we haven't had any kids yet. it's tomorrow that the shit hits the fan, so to speak. it goes without saying that i'm frustrated, both with our "independent" (read: republican) mayor and the impotent, no-good superintendent. both of them are just looking the other way, and telling everyone to go about their business as though nothing is wrong. news flash: we are doubling our cases about once every 3 or 4 days. we are in the steepest rise we have ever been, even when we shut everything down, even when we went to distance... and now, we are to do nothing?

okay, enough about that...

i've been going through my routines, and have just about got things to where they were before i stopped due to impossible work demands... and, of course, work is about to start again. maybe it's a losing proposition, this ideal i have, these goals i have... but whatever... i'm thinking that writing should be more than just a part of my routine, it has to get deeper in my blood if i'm to progress at it. i've been thinking that i need to keep little notebooks with me all the time so i can write down my ideas. i've been thinking that i need to just sit and write, even or especially when i am snarled into a narrative corner (which i feel i have been)... liberation comes at odd moments. like, for the kipapa story, this idea of writing from the perspective of dead people, not dead as in the ancient hawaiians dead, but dead as in recent dead, sort of trapped in limbo, making odd comments about the living, with a quiet desperation to get out of their predicament, to go somewhere... else. this is possibly a good idea, because the way i was trying to write it, with the living, and some inane story about ophelia and so on, was just getting too ridiculous... the dead can make fun of the living. the living take themselves too seriously...

and for the kappa story (hey, i just realized, kipapa is just kappa with an extra i in it)... i had this idea of the fish boy. something about why fish never have names. it's because no one really considers fish to be living beings. they are somewhere above plants, but only very slightly above plants. and we don't really name plants, do we? fish basically exist. they don't "do" anything. and so we consider that they don't have souls or spirits, in the same sense that dogs or bunny rabbits or rats do. even lizards have it better. i'd even say some arachnids have the privilege of a name... but anyway, i wanted to tie this into the boy, who feels like a fish in that sense... and something about how he IS like a fish, in that he is a natural swimmer. not a great swimmer, not a fast swimmer, like his stinking brother. after all, his brother "makes a big splash" in the water, he punishes the water, he makes it his bitch, and therefore he moves through it. there is little art in what he does. it is force and subjugation...

i think i got the idea of a swimming scene. i got the idea from "march comes in like a lion," i believe the 10th episode, wherein the main character talks about swimming, and swimming, and swimming, and swimming... a metaphor for his lonely and solitary struggle to progress through life, to find some land upon which to rest. that was very moving for me, to see him struggle, the repetition of the lines "and swimming..." i could feel the exhaustion. the longing for something solid. it somehow resonated with what i intended to write, about a person who needs to find a place for himself, a place to rest...

*****

i think, in my good moments, that i have faith in the process. the process means you just stick with it. and it means doing other things. it means sometimes just cleaning up. but all the time, a part of you is thinking about it, a part of you is mulling it over, turning things over in your head. and the process means that you are not escaping from it by doing other tasks, it means that you are constantly invested in it... your soul is tied to it, in a way. not in a serious way, not in a forceful way. but in a way that is abiding. it is, in a sense, like zen. because zazen is all about sitting, and abiding, with questions. holding questions, becoming questions, breathing questions... desperate for completion, but not desperate enough to lose hold of the question...

which reminds me: i need to meditate. i said so earlier, because i do have issues. anger issues. rage issues. forgiveness issues... unhealthy thoughts... 

dream - 1/2/2022

i had a few dreams this early morning.

in one of them, i was a newbie police officer. i was walking through some sort of encampment on a beach. one of the first things i saw were two white teens (not just white but literally pasty white). they were throwing rocks at other people right in front of me. i decided i couldn't let that slide, so i arrested one of them. i put his arms behind his back and tried to handcuff him. at one point during this struggle, this woman in lawyerly clothes came up to me, and, shoving a paper in my face, basically stated that the boy had some kind of disability, and that i had just done significant damage to his self-esteem by arresting him in front of all of his peers... i apologized, and let the boy go. i think i explained that it was the first thing i had seen that day, and that i acted based only on what i saw... i walked through the rest of that encampment feeling a bit wounded. in the darkness of the tent, i saw a boy sitting on a recliner upside down. it wasn't anything to make any sort of fuss about, but i felt that there was some kind of erosion of respect around me, that people felt that they could now do any and everything around me...

in another part of the dream, which was a mere fragment, i was sitting watching some sort of star wars related film with jw- a person who i had discovered, over the past few years, is a rabid trump supporter. in any case, i just sat there watching, as she made educated comments or anticipated the dialogue word for word,..

i am struggling to, but can't recall much of the third portion of the dream.

it is a grey rainy morning... not a good day for gardening...