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27 November 2009 @ 05:38 pm
Jim Morrison during his early years at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go club in L.A.. No... I've got better: I'd see if I could use my powers to finagle myself a place onto the Executive Production Staff at Paramount Desilu Television productions, and try-despite whatever Herb Salow throws at me to blockade this-try to get Jimi Hendrix to play on an episode of Star Trek (TOS) called "Way to Eden".
He'd come into the room wearing a Starfleet Uniform, pushing a Marshal Stack, and have Mitch Mitchel, and Noel Redding both pushing instruments in. Jimi plugs his guitar in, and gets on mic and says: "Hi, I'd like to play you a little song written by my Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandaddy..." He then goes into 'If 6 was 9' to an entranced crew, and VERY displeased Kirk!
Imagine that you have a time machine. Which deceased musician would you most want to travel back in time to watch perform live?
13 November 2009 @ 07:16 pm
If you were close to death, what would you choose for your last words? To whom would you want to say them?

I will not yield!
Nor kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet!
Nor to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last!
Before my body, I throw my warlike shield.
Lay on, Macduff,
And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"

       Okay folks, Here's another one that I'm reposting to keep from getting lost. This is something I wrote during the height of the reign of Emperor Bush II (sarcastic disrespect intended) after a number of friends of mine had died, and I was dealing with lots of depression, as well as angst. There was a news story that had really set me off from the time, and it's still with us today, although the news media has done all it can to make sure storiys like this remain ignored, as the Micheal Jackson funeral is certainly of much more importance! Please not the sarcasm....
      Again folks, these are re-posts of comments I made on a different blog.

Dec. 1st, 2007 01:30 pm (local)

Sending energy, and this meme friday pt1

1 What do you resent?
         "...Bigots. No matter who, what, where, why... bigotry and small mindedness really get my goat...."
Yeah I can agree with you here, on this one. As I've had to fight skinheads, religious hypocrites, and lots of other mediocrities for many years. But that's not what's really bothering today.
         "...I saw a different doctor today, one who didn't know me from adam. He took one look and judged me, poorly and wrongly. I went to see him as I've had flu for the past week and a half, which has been on my chest for days. I've been attempting to sleep on the sofa (failing), tearful, coughing up blood from hacking so bad, losing control in tear-inducing ways, utterly in lung-agony. I knew what it was, I've had bronchitis before. He took one look at me and asked "so how much are you drinking?"
I'm serious. I'm so furious I could spit. ...He barely acknowledged me, didn't look at me, just listened, asked that stupid question, then simply typed out the prescription for antibiotics and hurried me out of there. I hope it IS only bronchitis and not pleurisy (which I've had before) or worse.
So yeah, that would be the 'what I resent' today...."
      Gee, sounds like my typical day at the VA when I need something!?! But maybe I've just become so numb to it, that I no longer bother to notice. I want to thank Verbmynoun for posting. It feels good to know I'm no the only one from the states who's friends with you, and who is also a Veteran. I'am a War Vet, but that was for bullshit stuff, like Gulf War 1, and operations in Colombia, but nothing heavy. Nothing like whats happening now. Nothing thats caused me problems.
      I do suffer from non-combat related PTSD, but that came from living the life of a Prisoner of War while growing up at home under the tyranny of both my parents who ran the household with the intensity of Adolf Hitler. So, although I'am a War Vet, I too am not ...ahem... Thirsty. But I understand the reasons why, and that's what I resent today. Last night, I relented and turned on the tele. I know, it was terrible thing, but I had nothing better to do. Now that I have, I wish I hadn't. I caught this news story, and I found it appalling...., please watch this:
And read this:
What do I resent? It's this blind repeat of past mistakes!
This cowardly, degenerative moron, who's been installed against our will, has exactly created the conditions for what happened to us after Vietnam! A war which he deliberately avoided through the help of his father, and now 25 years later here we are having the after effects of and nobody's given thought to it!?! Here we are 25 years later, and once again, they've plunged us all into the heart of Darkness. Overall, I'm otherwise happy to have the VA, except when it comes to mental health issues. Now, I hate it, and for me, it's doubly personal.I've lost 29 friends into the 'Tan Cauldron of Death', or just 'The Cauldron' as my friends and I now call it.The words that keep resonating within me is this:
They're doing it again!
It's happening again!
And nobody's doing a damned thing to stop it, or make it better!
It's happening all over again!?!

    I sit here, as much as I did last night, in guilt-ridden contemplation. I feel ashamed because I should be there (the Cauldron), I feel that I should've done something to stop Bush (but if I were to describe what that something was, I'd pretty much be giving self-incriminating, Prima-Facie evidence of a major felony). Besides, It's not simply him, but 'The Con' who's doing this. And it wouldn't have the results I'd seek, even if it did succeed.
    I find myself being drawn as I write to watching this over-and-over again:
    "...When I was home after my first tour it was worse. I'd wake up and there'd be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife, until I said 'yes' to a divorce. When I was here, I wanted to be there. When I was there, all I could think about was going back into the jungle..." These are words I can understand inimically. My father: Vietnam Pilot. His Friends: Vietnam Vets, both pilots and infantry. People I grew up around: Vietnam Veterans, with some scattering of Korea, and WWII.
     I sit here wondering what I can do to help these guys, but how can I? I'm not a therapst, and I goto veterans PTSD group myself. I'm seeing a few new faces. New faces, but ones that look thopusands of years old. Ones with the expression of that 'Thousand-Yard Stare' I'm so used to. The same I developed at age 16.
     Nothing I have in expirience compares to what they've seen and done. It wasn't up until two years ago that I stopped feeling like a coward my own damned-self. It was at 'group that I'd talk with a former Green Beret in Vietnam. Naturally I looked up to him. We traded stories. He acheived that for which I had hoped for.
     Me: I tried out for Air Force Combat Control (Scarlet Beret's in case you didn't know), and didn't make it. It was during group that he told us all what had drove him crazy. It was being in a Catholic Orphanage, and being beaten savagely, and quite constantly by the Nun's. He said: there was nothing in his life, that hurt him so much, or put him in more fear, than this. He survived combat, had a harrowing escape during a mission, and admitted to the fear we all face during fighting, but it was the memory of what had gone on during his childhood that affected him most.
     To me it was like a revelation. I stopped feeling like a coward for what I have not faced, and for the abuse I had suffered at the hands of my ex-mother.
     Unlike him, I didn't choose a life of narcotics, nor of anesthetizing, but in someways I wonder.
Well, maybe spending too much time on a computer is my weakness, but I try to do constructive things with it, instead of non-stop gaming.
     Like you: I have a hatred of drugs, and I lost my own father to them as he died of an interaction of the heavy narcotic pain-killer prescription pills he took, and his daily 'juicing-up' with coke in the morning, and his nightly 'veging-out' with marijuana to tune-out the world. Those, plus the cardial damage that comes with 38 years of non-stop cigarette consumption. It's because of him, and many friends, and girlfriends I've had over the years who became lost into addiction that I never used.
    If I can point my finger at the three things that have ruined this country most, is is this: the JFK Assassination, Vietnam, and Drug Culture. All of which are interrelated, and all of which have broken our national will, and sapped our strength. I wish somedays I could hop in ye' ole' TARDIS, and make the whole world comeout a lot sunnier. I'd have alerted the FBI when 'Hizzonner' Mayor Richard J. Daley had his men [Chicago Metro PD] throw voting machines from the white voting precicnts of the Cicero District, into the Chicago River, guarranteeing Kennedy's win over Nixon. That one event would've changed things dramatically for us all. Even for you folks across the pond!

2. What is your most recent occupation?
    Stage Electrics, South Sea's Ballroom, Mandalay Bay Casino Hotel

3. What are you presently wearing?
    Stage Blacks, as usual.

4. What presents have you bought?
     "...I'm useless, sick and broke. This past six weeks has kicked the proverbials out of me, so it's perhaps unsurprising that I got sick and haven't done a thing towards the Yule festivities yet. Sorry, will catch up when I get the opportunity folks...."
     You and me both ,luv. You and me both. And unlike you, I'm neither asset rich, nor cash rich either. I can't seem to get out of this trap this fucking union has plunged me into.

5. Whose presence would you enjoy tonight?
     My honey in Indiana. I miss her so much. I've kept her waiting for me for so long. I just can't get to her yet. I hate myself for this. I hate myself for this turmoil I've been living in for so many years. It's unfair to her. It's unfair to me. I live the life of an addict, and I'm not addicted to anything! I hate myself for this. I want out of this vicious cycle. I want out of 'vegas! I want out, and to have the life that all around me seem to have 'entitled' for them. A normal, steady flow of fundage, and enough to live on. I don't think that's asking for much now is it?

    Once again, she asked the right questions and turned the Fawcett on full blast!
Now if only I could turn it off! :D

17 July 2009 @ 12:57 am
Howdy folks:
        My friend Varushka made an observation that I don't post enough. I find myself heartily agreeing with her. Part of the reason why is plumb-laziness, but the other reason is because I hate writing so many intimate details of my life, and yet never have the control of who gets to read it, nor the knowledge of who's read it either. I've been burned once before as copyrighted pictures of mine had ended up on someone's blog pages, after I showed it to that person, privately.
        Despite all of that, I've often found myself with much to say, but simply failed to express it. I often find myself writing much in the comments to the blogs of others, but not much of m y own material. This is largely because i write best when provoked into action, or if somethings caught my emotionalism, or desire for intellectual discourse. This is something I've wanted to change for a longtime.
So in honour of her suggestion to me I'd like to change that, at least this one time. I've posted something on a blog page of someone who was once a better friend to me than they are now, and I found my words something I'd like to keep, and so I'm going to repost them. Her post, and my response to that post was: Answers to Meme Questions. Every Friday, or at least when she was upto it, she'd post a series of questions and solicit the responses of all on her friend-list. So here it is, in it's entirety:

Answers to these Meme questions of my own:

1. What's the last thing you threw away?
An Apple Core. That, and an Orange Rind

2. Have you ever been to Paris?
       Yes, Thrice unfortunately. The first was back in 1975 as I travelled with my grandparents throughout Europe. Then I blasted through in 1990. I traveled with a punk-rock band touring Europe. We started our tour in Barcelona Spain, and went upwards, and across from there.  We knew France was a bust, and we didn't even make any attempt to find a venue, nor stay in the country. We had just flashed on through directly from our last few gig's in Spain. We didn't think we'd miss anything. In retor-spect I really wish we'd have stopped in Belgium. If only I'd known then what I know now. We all ended up missing out on the land of Rasberry Beer and wonderous Chocolates.

       The next was in 1992. I was busy working for a French Company in New York. During that time I had to slave for this miserable creature who for me epitomized all of the bad stereotypes we hear of the French. She now needed me to be her bodyguard and general lackey as we'd have to go and have her get yelled at at the corporate offices, by her father, the company president.
      My French at the time, was alot better than it is now, I tend to be a great impressionist and surprise many by being able to reproduce the sounds with the same accent. This helped me blend in, as I had been forewarned about the French Snottery for Language.
However, I just couldn't remember all of the words and phrases. Being under stress just makes that worse. As soon as I stammered to make sense, the oh-so-typical Parisian nastiness came frothing forth as I'd be warded off with such invectives like: "Speak like a Human!" I found myself responding with a great deal of 'Feu-twa's' [phonetic spelling], and facing down a few parisian's in the process as well.
      So, as my boss, or Energy Vampire as I likened her unto, got more and more sour, and demanding as the dreadful time of reckoning approached, I found myself wanting to just break and run back to Le Bourge to catch a flight back home, more and more!
It was regrettable. Here I was on a third trip, and this time would stay in the city, and yet, I got to see nothing I wanted. I had by this time became aware of the legendary Shakespeare's Bookshoppe, and was eager to visit that more than anything else! Instead I was having my time both ruined, and wasted by the Energy Vampire, and I wanted to do nothing less than drop her into the worst section of the Latin Quarter and speed off in her fathers own Citroen!
     So the day came at last, when she had to go face her own 'dear father' with accounting ledgers in hand and show for all expenses, and losses. I couldn't understand most of what her father hurled at her from the next room as I waited, but I got most of it. He even called into question why I was there, and why wasting so much money. A thought soon crossed my mind, that I was about to be jumped by his own security men, and then to be sold off to some Algerian in effort to re-coup the expense. That didn't happen.
     Instead, the doors came bursting open, and she came running out with papers flying every which way, and her dragging me along as usual. We went back to the Hotel, and we'd be leaving the next morning. That night after dinner and after fumbling around for something to watch on TV in english, there was a knock at the door. It was her, crying and apologetic. I let her in, we talked, and described to her what it takes to stand up to a parent. She knew of my history ( we share something in common, as I too was a runaway), as a family member got me the job. Maybe I felt sorry for her, maybe it was perhaps her giving me just a smidgen of respect. We ended up doing it!
We flew back to New York, and work didn't improve. In fact things got worse. A few months later: I quit!

3. What do you stare at?
Empty Space, same as you!

4. What do you hurry for?
Appointments, same as you, but often times just to get to work on time. Usually, I'm in a hurry for money, as there's been so little of it of late.

5. Friday fill-in: I could have been ___.
This is a tough one. Not because it's hard to come up with an answer, no. I know, and knew exactly what I wanted to have been. No, for me the answer is one that's painful. Had my own parents knew how to teach, nor actually want children for their own sake, rather than either furniture, or window dressing they'd not have dissuaded me from learning. Nor would my father have put a tremendous block in my mind with regards to Mathematics. His attempts to 'beat-the-times-tables-into-me' only proved to be a stumbling block, and further set a course for my family to become one of avoidance.
I would've liked to have become an astronaut. Or at least to have been an astrophysicist, instead of just dreaming about it, or re-living someone elses glory.

24 October 2008 @ 07:07 pm
Imagine a world without Star Trek. Is it a world you'd be very happy to live in, or a dark and terrible place?
That's a tough one. Certainly the effect on popular culture world-wide has been profound because of it, but at the same time there were plenty of other sci-fi show's that would take it's place. I would wonder if perhaps British Sci-Fi show's like UFO would've had a bigger market, and more staying power without a 'Star Trek' to blot it out. Or maybe Dr. Who would've seen wild popularity and greater market share in the U.S.. Or perhaps a similar show would've come to the fore. Imagine a Start Fleet Battles TV show without meddlesome lawsuits from Paramount Viacom!
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
19 October 2008 @ 05:07 pm
      I've lost a friend today, and I'm rather upset about it. No, I'm pissed!
It was because of her, and two other people I joined LJ in the first place. I wanted to know what was on her mind more. We'd both been members of a certain yahell group, and had messaged back and forth a few times.I made mention of something on her journal she took as adversarial. For the life of me, I can't even remember what it was!?! I guess my senility is pouring in. Regaurdless, she cut me off, and I'm Pissed.
I don't like being thrown away. Especially after some small faux-pas.
     I didn't know her all that well, but I wanted to. She showed me some intimate detasils of her life in that group, and I gave her some very intimate details privately of my own. Perhaps a few too many, but still.
     I honestly entertained idea's of marrying her. I'd settle on meeting her for coffee first of course! And it wasn't because I'm looking to defect to Canada. I'll get my citizenship from school. No, it was that she wanted to live in San Fran, and I offered her the chance at gaining her citizenship if she wanted with very few strings attached. I really just wanted her to be happy. I really wanted to help her acheive the goals in life she wanted as well
     She doesn't live happily. She, like most of us, has been trapped into the debt/wage-slavery of the modern world, and she's been having a rought time of it of late. Her Cats are her children. I can understand this because I've had, and loved several and they were like children to me. But she's well on her way to becomming the Crazy-Catlady! I really wanted to save her from that. I didn't want her to be lonely, poor, and heartbroken anymore.
     If I could've I would loved to have freed her from this, but I'm not some real-estate slumlord/insider stock-trader with more money that God to be able to just fly to anywhere on a moments notice, and completely change the life of a friend with a fingersnap. I wish I could. I'd really like to. But I'm not. Infact untill these past two months I've been trapped in a bleak situation that's lasted for almost ten years thanks to corruption at my old union that I'm happily no longer a member of. 
     I've felt bad everytime her Cats were hurting, or she was hurting for money. I'd help her if I could. Honestly: I was going to suprise her. She wanted a sewing machine that can do all sorts of stuff. Now that I'm in a new line of work, I was just trying to get some bills cleared and I was going to send it to her. My suprise for christmas...
     She's probably reading this right now. I'd be happy if she did, but don't care otherwise.
     You want me to appologize? Okay, I'm sorry I have an opinion! I'm sorry I make sarcastic jokes! I'm sorry you can't communicate what upsets you that I should avoid it! 
     I'm sorry for you, that you who have to insult my country that I should rise to it's defense! 
     I like many American's, have the unenviable task of having to appologize for yet another president, and 'it's' Folly! I refer to the office of president's occupant, as 'it', because I find so many of them to be sub-human. I'm now faced with the equally unenviable task of having to face yet another dreary election where we're not voting for a president so much as we're conforming to stardards the Conspiracy wants from us by voting! Or we're trapped in yet another Boss Tweed/Smoke Filled Backroom-style of elections where we're free to vote for whoever we want, but the worst possible candidates are selected for us! And I was happy to withstand all the proverbial 'Slings-and Arrows' you had for us because I share your sensitivities. To a point!...
     I've never insulted canada, but jested once in humour back at you: "Canada, America'a Hat!" And with your response you knew I was joking. Sure, I've had bad things to say about dear-ole' PM Diffenbacher, but if you realized the horror, and hardship both he and Duncan Sandy's had caused your own nation with such folly as the 1957 Defense White Paper, the cancellation of the CF-105 Arrow, and other related projects, then maybe you would'nt be so antagonistic to me about it. Thus I digress, but the point is: I've never insulted your own country as bad.
     I've learned a long time ago not to try too hard to be someone's friend, and I wont. I'm upset that you'd throw me away so easily Xavi. I really wanted to make you happy.  I'm thinking that perhaps this Merc- retrograde is whats causing such frustration, and thats why I've possibly ticked you off, and you- me. But reguardless you should've said something. No matter what, and despite you removing me from your A-list, I refuse to do the same.

My door is left open to you.
Current Mood: pissed offpissed off
Today I went with a friend of mine to something I've wanted to do for years. Every Labour Day (not to mention Memorial Day) a small group of enthusiasts get together to try out Commercial Dive Gear. I've wanted to do this for years, and I finally got my shot! Yay Me!
I'm in the Tri-State Area visiting my Granma' who's been sick earlier this past year, and now she's looking hundred percent better, and the time here has allowed me to take a buncha' side ventures such as this. I also have a friend in the area and she's been kind enough to chauffeur me around and I've only been too happy to pay for gas. I knew I might make it to this event, but was saddened that I didn't have enough to cover the Air Freight charges I'd have needed to bring my own gear. I own a Drysuit, pair of Double 120's (steel) two Tri-mix bottles, a EAN1 stage bottle, and a O2 'K' cylinder with regulator interface, an EXO-26, and a Comm System. So had I brought all that I could've impressed the folks there, but still.
So as I get there, I intro myself, show Cert' Card, Log Book, and so fourth, but they still regarded me as a Newbie. I disliked that, but not intensely. I just wish sometimes I could get rid of the 'Clown Aura' Especially when I need to convey to people that I'm deadly serious.
So with that I expressed my desire to dive one of the 'Hats' as they call them, and the next available was an old Navy Mark 5 suit and helmet. So I volunteered to dive that. I had to work as a surface tender for the other divers who were in progress of comming/going, and I was only too happy to help.
Then my turn came.
I have found a whole new world of respect for anyone who had to work in a Mark 5 helmet/suit from the 1920's,30's,40's,50,60's, onward until about 1974(?)
As you pretty much can tell I'm an Enclosure Freak, I'm not one who succumbs to clausterphobia (and no I didn't have a panic attack underwater) easily. But the strain, not so much the weight of that whole setup was enough to just exhaust the hell outta' me! There's the enclosing effect of the helmet, the realization of: "Gee, if I loose the air hose I can't get out of this thing, nor can I swim to the surface!"
So as I walked, not swam mind you, along the bottom I couldn't gain any bouyancy at all, and still struggled to gain enough air to breathe without overflowing the suit and become as helpless as a Weeble, but I pressed on! Even though I let the air-valve free-flow, I still couldn't catch my breath! No one told me what the bottom layout was, and I had worried about my footing. I knew that there was an old firetruck, as some of the other divers visited it, and I would've liked to have gone to it myself. As I marched-make that-plodded along, I came to the edge of what looked like a cliff. Now, why this is dangerous is because not only do I not know what the surface-supply compressor is rated for, I also had no depth gauge! I thought I'd be going down hundreds if not a full 1000 FFW! This would not have been a good idea. I turned around and headed back to the dock. I had a tough struggle with the bottom sediment and I first walked, then crawled in the mud, but was unable to make any head-way. I didn't yell, or say anything into the VOX (always on microphone) that would've startled them, but I did want them to know I was headed back.
I think the surface tenders panicked anyway, cause as I struggled back, they suddenly pulled hard on the umbilical. Now I started to fear if I was going to bend! I had no indicator as to how deep I was, and now I'm being reeled-in real fast!
What was the old Adage? Dive Deep, Stay Long, Hold Breath, and Come Up Fast, and you become a Rasberry! Yeah!!! Well not this time I hoped! Anyways, I strained to make it back to the dock, it was hard to walk, it was hard to stand, and the straps that hold the helmet down are just too tight, but they have to be!
I made it back to the chair, and despite cool behaviour, I couldn't get outta' that thing fast enough!
To Master Chief Carl Brashear, and all Navy Divers of Salvage, UEOD, and the many other branches, and peoples too numerous to list here: I have found a new respect for you all! I only thought I knew what strain, and struggle was!
My friend took a few awesome looking shots of me as I sat on the surface wearing the gear. It shall be sent in a later post for dear friends.
Current Mood: accomplished
27 July 2008 @ 12:50 pm

      I've a tough decision to make. Yesterday, I ran across an old ghost from my past.
 It's of someone who is in every way a sociopath. When I was a kid I had fought him, 
and his gang several times. Apart from battery, he's committed a sexual battery, as 
I had walked upon both him, and his crew attempting to cut off the penis of another 
boy with a pair of lawn shears! I'm not kidding folks!
     He's committed arson of both someone's house who's name I couldn't remember, 
as well as my own. The damage to our house was minimal, but still. The other burned 
to the ground.
     My father was idiotic about things like this, and had no strength to fight, and thought somehow that kids don't put other kids in jail. At least that was his excuse to me. 
The real reason: My father was afraid of his own shadow, which is funny because he'd 
have no fear beating his own son's but thats besides the point! He was also a terrible 
drug addict, and the town we were in was THE importation, and distribution center for Cocaine over most of the New York Tri-state area, and my father being once a dealer, 
and at the time of the incident ,his own best customer, probably didn't want to allow 
anything to screw up his fragile agreements is more likely! 
    And so from that day foward began a long-standing feud that only ended with 
graduation from high school, and my own forced departure from home. 
That's a whole other issue.
     I had been told, that in his recent past he'd burned his last bridge, was poor, 
and had all of his bad karma crashing down on him. Apparently none of this 
happened. The felony conviction he was supposed to have gotten for sexual 
battery, in adult years, didn't remove him from the streets. I don't know if he ever 
even got charged like he was supposed to! None of that matters. He's walkin' 
the streets, and I don't like it.
     What's more: he's become wealthy, that hurts the worst. Either through the 
organized crime we were surrounded by as children, that he's elected to 
enter, or just from riding on the coat-tails of family. I think it was the later. He's 
had bad habit's of drugs, and I was hoping it'd catch the better of him, but hasn't. 
He's also a compulsive gambler and it's allowed him some degree of success, 
and thats where the crux of this whole thing got started. I saw him recently. 
He was on television. He's no one famous though.
    A year ago a friend of mine invited me to join him, and enter his business as a
 Bail Enforcer. I almost took him up on it. He needed me because I've no prior's, no convictions, licensed to carry, and practice often. The truth is I hate fighting. The job 
would require it and often, so I decided to pass. I figured it'd be another lame-ass 
job where I'm putting my ass on the line for someone else's money. The attraction 
to this was, beleive it or not, the idea that you can get away with lots under the laws protecting Bail Enforcers!
    This year, I'm being made to change careers due to action/inaction on part of my
union, and it's corruption. Now I have this visting me, and the idea of working as a Bounty Hunter has suddenly become that much more attractive. 
     I don't think he'd be brash enough to be seen on TV, or live high-profile while wanted,
but then again the stupidity, or bad habits, and addictions of people can be amazing sometimes. I've no idea of whether he's walking around on someone's dime as it's said, meaning: continuing to commit crimes while out on bond, but I doubt it too. He was in 
my city and it'd be hard to press a judge to allow him out-of-state travel from where he 
lives for what he was doing here. Sooner or later he'll be wanted again, or screw up. 
Or burn someone important. It's inevitable. 
    It was Shakespeare said: "A coward dies a thousand deaths until he dies, but a 
brave man only dies once." I've come to realize that statment more than I care to 
admit, but I've also come to know this: Good people suffer, loose things, and their
loved one's when they allow bad people to reign over them, and thus my conundrum. 
I've had to let too many things go in life; walked away when I should've fought because 
I was worried about either jail-time or spillover effect. Now I'm at an impass. there is a burning within me to make something like this happen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjcJd0s3hTQ and I don't know how to quell it. 
The rational side of me says to let go, that bitterness eventually destroys the vessel that contains it. But that same rationale says to act as a preventative measure, much less 
than revenge, due to the habitual nature of the offender. We put people in jail for 
negligence. I feel as if I'm doing the same for inaction.

13 July 2008 @ 12:51 pm
 Please allow me to introduce myself, for I’m a man of wealth and taste…
Well that’s not entirely true, but I do have taste. Welcome to my first post. This has been long overdue, but I just couldn’t find anything significant to write about for a very long time. There is also a small bunch who I didn’t want to display any of the finer details of my own life to, but I’ve found that to be a mostly unwarranted concern, and I’ll deal with them later.
I figured this was a sorry state of affairs has gone on for too long, being that I comment on enough of others posts, that finally I should go ahead and make my own. So finally I’ve decided to climb atop my own soapbox, and express myself. At one time I considered writing this in Nadsat, but I found the vocabulary is too limited, and it’s hard to practice. Unless you’ve really lived it, you’ll never pull it off, and so I just figured it’d be silliness, and so I dropped the idea. Besides, how many of you would understand it? It’ll jus’ give you a pain in the Gulliver, and soon you’ll wanna’ Zasnoot!
Anyways, the whole reason for posting was to make an announcement, I’m writing my novel. It wasn’t the book I originally set out to accomplish writing when I started back in 2002, and that one will have to wait. No, this is a novel concerning me, my ex-Domme, my sister-slave, and scene-friends of mine, and a girlfriend along the way. It all has to do with Fetish. It’s a both a love story, as well as a seedy sex-capade, with some REEEEAAALLLY risqué parts in it. Much of the style is like the novel: Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham.
When I began playing with the idea, I was searching for a literary counterpart, or paralell to what story I had inside. Then somewhere I remembered the movie I had seen when I was 14, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-cIUVgacaY and the book I had read about three years ago. I had my novel.
It exists already in an incomplete form of letters, emails, and the recorded conversations of IM traffic, but it still needs to be put together. I owe my decision to finish it, no let me rephrase that, to even embark upon writing it, to a friend of mine I met on okcupid.com. 
I shared great heaps of my personal history with her, to include a freakish, yet hilarious episodes that had happened while I was in Zeebrugge, Bruxelles, and Menem, Belgium. This tale is fraught with humour, controversy, love, lust, the endless depths of depression, and the slow and painful recovery back to sanity. 
Much like the character: Larry Durrel who chooses café life and pursuit of wisdom over middle-class security, I had done the same. As his Hindu mentor tells him: "...there are three paths to enlightenment - knowledge, service, and prayer. Larry chooses the path of knowledge, and ultimately does attain some level of enlightenment. I inevitably chose all three paths, and have yet attained the enlightenment that I've sought, however the paths are as yet unfinished but the journey so far has been interesting.
"The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard." —Katha-Upanishad

I’m not going to spill my guts as to what it contains, but there are those precious few of you who’ve been given lots of clues. You’ll have to bear with me as I give details in a rather cryptographic way. You won’t get the whole thing here. You’ll have to actually pay the U.S. $6.99, but if you’re good, and if you’re lucky, you may at least catch some of the more interesting bits. Despite my desire to publish, I still have a career to protect, as well as an identity. And from a liability standpoint, there are several folks who I doubt will lend their names to this project, and so I’ve no wish to provoke them, and mire this project’s publication inescapably by entangling it in legal bullshit!
And so dear readers, your humble narrator has decided to share with you small details of his incredibly strange life in the hopes that you might be entertained, or even come away with having learned something.