Bathroom

For some reason I have always liked getting a glass of water from the bathroom sink. I guess in the home I grew up in my bedroom was closer but it always seemed that the water was fresher, I feel that way in my apartment now. I don't know if this sets me apart in any way, but to me, it feels unique.

I had a conversation with my father about why I wanted to travel. We pondered for a while. Neither was trying to talk me out of it. Some people are happy with living where they grew up, maybe never leaving. Then people leave once and have found what they are looking for. I guess I don't know what I'm looking for. Maybe an experience that is challenging. Maybe I am looking for my utopia. Maybe it is just the simple fact that I will see something I hadn't. Some people may think that I am trying to escape, but really I would be running away from great things and great people. I love this city and do cherish the fact that there is still so much to see.

Basically there are two places that I am thinking of. Japan, or Europe. I have this neat little tool that I am perfecting even though I know it can never be perfect. That tool is my ability to teach English. I'm not saying that I am the best but I have over two years of experience, aside from breathing and smoking, I don't really have any experiences that rival this progression of my career. I did live for a year in Japan, but I had to leave not feeling satisfied. The company I worked for went under and I was left without a job. I barely saw any of the country and definitely didn't take advantage of the proximity of other cultures.

I have been to Europe as well. I went in high school for ten days, I was in Paris and Madrid. I saw a few things but was still an outsider. I never got immersed in the culture. I think that would be very difficult to do in ten days. I would love to go back to Spain, I can speak Spanish better than I can speak Japanese. These two places are very different but also very similar. They are equal in that they are outside of where I am now. I think they would both satisfy my wander lust, at least for a little while. But what happens when I run out of real estate in the world?


TO THE MOON!

I went for a jog today.

I like Sundays, I have a ritual. It is usually all day by myself. Sometimes I do go over for dinner at people's houses but during the day I don't talk to anyone or really go anywhere. I didn't receive a text nor a phone call all day. I wrote a little today, that is another part of my ritual. It has become very important to me. Unfortunately laundry got in the way and my creativity was interrupted. Now I'm sitting here after trying to shave my head.

I think it's time I invest in a proper grooming kit. My beard trimmer doesn't really cut it for the thick forest that is my head. It seems I get about halfway through and the juice runs out. On an unrelated note, when did juice become synonymous with electricity? Wouldn't juice ruin the precision of the electrical current? Think of a nice sticky apple juice as a conduit.

So anyway, I am sitting here looking like I was just tossed into the loony bin with patches of hair winking at the world as I have resigned myself to the fact I will have to wake up a little early and shave my head, that doesn't sound like a pleasant awakening. On the other hand it is kind of fun to have gone out in public like this. Then again maybe that's why those two girls I smiled at on Divis didn't really smile back. Things do make sense sometimes.

A long weekend

I had my sister and my mother in town for about four days. They got to see the city and I got to see them. We had a lovely thanksgiving with Angie and her family. I have to say that I enjoyed playing tour guide, but only for a little bit. I was surprised by how much I knew about this city that I have called home for one year, seven months, nineteen days and some odd hours, with some odd minutes.

It was good to see my family, and to let them understand my surroundings. Sure, they probably won't move here, ever but at least they might know what or who I am talking about. It was too bad that no one could come visit me while I was in Japan. But maybe it was for the better. Maybe I can keep that experience all for myslef. I can let it be a mystery. In Montana it is impressive to tell people I have lived in Japan. Here most of the people I know have been there or are planning to go or have been to somehwere remote as well, so it's not as much of a surprise when I tell them.

To be honest I went to Japan for myself and that help me realize that I like doing things for myself. It made me want to do more things that I alone will appreciate. I have never really been swayed by what others want for me. I got a degree in writing, no matter how accepting, and my parents are, they still know that there isn't a lot you can do with that except write or teach as I am doing now. My family has supported it and gave me the freedom to nurture it even if they don't agree with it, understand it or particularly like it.

So, I'm happy thanksgiving is over and can't wait until January 2nd. The holiday season will be over and I will keep the optimism alive for the year to come. This time next year, I will be in a different country.

Sometimes

I sleep too late on the weekends, don't drink when I should, eat too little, smile at the wrong person then decide that they deserved a smile anyway, use aluminum foil, don't smile when I should, smell bad, smell good, eat raw things, smell strangers when they aren't noticing, smoke too much, eat bread and find it to taste like heaven, trust too many people, participate in sports, flirt too much, sustain under-confidence, lack the patience, willpower or motivation to write my blog, write stories, dream about sailing, anticipate the past, let my thumb nails grow too long, at least for my standards, listen to hip-hop and rock in alternation, dream about saving someone's life, envision myslef as a failure, misspell "myself," look at my hands like they don't exist or are not mine, pine for being on a stage, think how silly actors and musicians are, am grateful I don't have children, want children, want less, wonder what it would be like to live a hundred years ago, burn oven-mits, write one sentence that takes a long time to read.

So much time so little to do

For the most part I don't like holidays that much. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving. I have family coming into town and they haven't seen where I live so this will be good for them. I expect a nice relaxing four days. I might even get to see something in this city that I haven't seen before.
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I have been having this pit in my stomach show up every day for weeks, maybe even months. It seems that my intestinal problems started in Japan. I don't think it was the food, because I never really ate anything strange. It went away when I came back to the states but here it is again. It seems that every night I'm riding the bus home in agony. Have any of you had similar problems? It was suggested to me that I may have some vitamin deficiency, but I think only a blood test can tell me that. I may have low cholesterol again, but then again you need a blood test for that. I just need to find a young doctor to become friends with. Most of my friends are English teachers and although they are great for cracking jokes and stimulating conversation, they can't really offer medical advice.

Who knows maybe I have a tape worm. Maybe it's some sort of karmic retribution, but I feel that I'm a pretty decent fellow, I don't squash bugs, I give money and cigarettes to homeless people. But I don't treat, and haven't treated everyone the kindest. Sure the smiling blond who will pick up lunch for you or listen to your problems does have demons too. Though they aren't that scary they still haunt me like smaller gremlins. But then again, maybe this chronic pang in my stomach is a tiny little cosmic, karmic worm eating the inner lining of my stomach and oozing out regret, while growing bigger and bigger. Nighty-night.

Just to let you all know

If I become deathly ill it is because I have eaten strawberries, yes I do eat fruit, that may have been infected with mold. I didn't see the moldy one until I had eaten about seven or eight of them.

I just finished organizing my music collection, well for the most part. I was a little underwhelmed by the size I had. I thought I had a lot of music and I do, but the thing is I want more. I know how to get it. It's just that there is so much. I might need to scale it down. It is my biggest collection of anything I own. It is unstoppable. I am talking about the craving. I want to know the newest and latest music. However, even if it is hugely popular and I don't like it, I will keep it but won't listen to it. Vampire Weekend, they come to mind as being hugely overrated. They were hailed as the next great band but that was almost two years ago. Where have they been lately? This is just an example.

I like music. I love music. My dream job involves me getting paid to listen and write about music. I have applied to SPIN and URB magazine with no reply. This comes when unfortunately the magazine is going the way of the locomotive. We still have them but they are not glamorous and not the first choice for most. I still like trains.

To everyone out there, I am always open to new music, but you will have to earn my trust. I have to know that you are also into finding new music. Please don't tell me about Nickelback or Lady Gaga. Some have called me a music snob, and, actually I take that as a compliment. But if you think I am the worst one out there you are wrong. I am just on the cusp of the underground. I know a few things but I also know there is so much I don't know. I will always be a slave to music. I take pride in this. Music, the idea of it, is universal. Sure people have different tastes for the most part I will give leeway but I might also tell you about some different band that does what you like but better.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I miss my record collection, the way I miss my books and Cheers, and M*A*S*H*. (Is the correct way to punctuate after a star? I'm not sure if that is in the Chicago Manuel of Style.)

Pain & Comics

This year has been a wonderful year. I feel that in the past nine months or so have been so beneficial allowing me to grow. I have gotten to experience many things and met amazing people. 2009 didn't start out very well. I was in a relationship I didn't want to be in. I closed myself off. I didn't experience much. During that time there was a lot of emotional pain. But that changed and I was able to breath freely and enjoy more.

I have had a few injuries and other things that have plagued me. Let's see, I had chronic migraines for over six weeks I think. I severely twisted my ankle, experienced chronic back pain. I jammed my thumb black and blue. I think I may have thrown my shoulder out. I will have to see a doctor about that soon. I had a cavity filled.

I know that none of these things were life threatening and am thankful for that. I have always been one who can take things in stride and not focus on them for too long or let them distract me. But I do wonder if I hadn't had such an amazing year would I have been able to deal with them with the nonchalance that I have been?

Pain means change. You need to adjust something to make it go away. You might have to start doing things differently, or you might have to stop doing things that maybe you love. So far what I have had to sacrifice has been minimum. It just has made me stop and think about what I can achieve if what I am doing is what I want to be doing. I alone have the power to make myself happy. Most people realize this at some point in their life but they also forget it as well. The trick is to remember to say it to yourself every once in awhile.
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Last night I went to a birthday party. It was fun, the people were friendly the drinks were poured and the apartment had a great view of the city. I enjoyed myself and stayed there a lot longer than I thought I would. So even though I wasn't home to write rest assured that I was having a good time. I didn't make it home until around five in the morning. I don't think I made it to bed until six. I woke up at two today and bought some comics.

Shopping for comics is an interesting experience. I felt under a lot of pressure. It's an interesting dynamic. I don't want to seem like I don't know what I'm doing. Some people who buy comics are very intense about the whole thing. They are the kings of alternate universes. I loved comics when I was a kid. My mother even banned me from having them at some point. I'm not sure if it was because of the violent and sexual content or because they were a distraction to me. But aha, now I'm a grown man who can't have his comics taken away. On another note I'm not sure If I should be bragging about this.

This is a call to all of you who think they might be too old for comics. If you have ever loved them then go in and by an issue of what your favorite comic. They are still cheap and you will be amazed by the progression of the art, the depth of the story and how much you remember. It's like a charge to the past. You'll be glad you did it.

I have a Fauxhawk now.

My watch has started slowing down. It isn't that noticeable, but when I wake up in the morning it is three or four hours behind. Now if I didn't know that time wasn't real I would probably be a little worried that I was slowing down. Or feeling some enormous pressure to complete something very important for the universe. So important that the universe has given me extra time. If this is a hint then I am missing it completely. The world is full of clocks and mirrors. That was the best thing I have ever heard come out of Danny Devito's mouth. (The Big Kahuna). Watches stop, and slow down, but that doesn't matter because they are tracking something invisible.

Time is important. I feel that I have had this strange connection with time. Like I was in on its secret. I used to amaze my friends by telling them the time of day, no matter the situation, within five minutes either way. It might be the closest thing I have to a sixth sense. As of late I haven't been doing that. Maybe I have gotten careless, or even worse lazy. But it was never something that I had to condition for. It's not like I am trying to break world records.

I try to be on time. But I have never been too worried if I would make it there at the exact minute I am supposed to. I do like it when I can count down the seconds and then knock on the door of the person's house I was to visit. On the same side of the coin, I don't get mad when people are late, even by hours. I let people live their lives for the most part. However, the one thing I do think about is if that person is in danger. Luckily that hasn't happened.

Time doesn't exist yet it stresses so many people out. They watch clocks. I say you should pocket watches and let yourself feel the time. If it exists it will make itself known and then your worries will be absolved. Sure this may take some time but it will come and if time passes you by then that is what was meant to happen. Watch the sun, and look at the stars. Not only are they magnificent forces or wonders to behold and examined. They will also tell you what time it is. But they do it in whisper and song.

My

name is Dustin. I am from Montana. This seems to surprise people. I guess I never knew how removed my state was from the rest of the country. My friend Max gave me great advice when I first moved here. He said that I should just embrace it. It's an anomaly that people appreciate and ask questions about. So far I think I have embraced it and let people ask questions, use it as an excuse, and prove them wrong. Growing up, I have heard stereotypes about people from California. So I know what it's like. I still haven't met another person from Montana. Most people don't even know where Montana is. I have been asked if that was in Canada. Also, I have been asked why I didn't have a Southern accent.

Although, I have been wondering if I have an accent. I can tell that other people have an accent, for the most part. This is because more than several people have asked where I was from and when I reply, "Montana," they were surprised that I was from the U.S. Well, I have gotten that before. But that wasn't because of my accent. They were surprised because I wasn't fat, students and other teachers alike.

I am not too worried about this. The past three years I have gotten very comfortable with myself. My faults, my achievements, past, present. So when these situations arise I am not so self-conscious. I'm glad that this makes me stand out. It makes me friendlier, charming, and sometimes a little strange. Strange, sure you can call me that, ignorant, however, is another story. We read the same things you do, watch the same shows, experience diversity, and we also know how to get our hands dirty.

Oh, and not everyone knows how to ride a horse, shoot a gun, skin a deer, ice skate, herd cattle, drive in the snow, fly fish, ski, or line dance.

I'm not mad or anything I just want you all to know that, despite that fact I smile and laugh, I am proud of where I came from. I do miss it. I am starting to understand why I grew up there. It was so that I could amaze people upon conversation. That I could stand out. That I wouldn't forget where I came from and can take that with me wherever I go. I can also change peoples stereotypes along the way. I am sure up there in Big Sky country there is the guy they think all Montanans are. I know I'm not him. Whether they're Japanese, Californian, French, Spanish or Martians, people's ideas will altered. And that sounds like a challenge to me, I am starting to like those. Not the usual kind, but those that I would have not gotten to if I hadn't faced previous challenges. Hitch your wagons. (We all know how to do that!)

Super powers

If you know me then you probably have had a conversation about super powers with me. I watched a movie called Special. If you haven't seen it I strongly suggest it. Michael Rappaport did an amazing job. The idea is that he takes pills that give him super powers.

There possibly could be a personality test one question with an explanation. Maybe I'll develop it. If you could have one super power what would it be? I have thought about this many times, but still don't have an answer. Sure I would love to fly, or walk through walls but I feel that there is something even greater than that. Maybe this is a way to make this blog more interactive. (Even though I use all this technology I kind of hate it. I miss my typewriter and my record player.) If all seven of you (my followers) would be so kind and answer the question above I would love to see it.

I do think about this more than the average human. I was raised on comics and still have a small collection. I love superhero movies, except for spider-man, they really fell off on those. I watch Heroes. Don't get me wrong I do cherish my life and understand that if there were to be change it would have to come from me for me and not from a super power. But I do want to be a superhero.

Then again maybe I just want to be a hero. I think of these situations where something would happen and maybe how I could stop it. Of course nothing ever happens and I continue down the block or stay seated in my chair. I don't know the future but I am pretty sure that these scenarios are better left in my head before something terrible actually happens.

Maybe I should just write comics, does anyone know how to draw?

Tears for Eric (a fictional character)

I just cried. I wrote this story about a man's death. After his death and three thousand words I realized that I was really invested in the character. This is the first time this has happened to me. Normally I can separate my emotions form what I'm writing. I might have been because I could so easy place where this happened. It was easy because it was right next door. I have sat right next to it smoking many times.

Honestly, I can't remember the last time I cried. This time, even, the tears weren't rushing out of me. It was a whimper. It was not a conscious decision but usually that is never the case. When I think about it know this true expression of emotions seems strange to me. You leak liquid, your breathing changes dramatically.

I don't know why I decided to share this with you but i didn't write here yesterday and since most of you who read this do so to see my state of mind I thought i would give you a gem. I am not grief stricken, it was just something that grabbed hold of me and I determined not to fight. It wasn't rewarding like when you cry a worthy cry and when you are finished you know something has changed. This was just a shock to me. I feel like more of an artist. Even if this story is never read by anyone else I know it has deeply touched one person.

Viva la ars!

Fridays smell good

Friday is a magical word in the English language that means almost done. I think we should start a movement to give another definition to this word. When we are cooking a turkey(topical) and there are about ten minutes left we can say it's Friday.
Tom: How's the turkey coming?
Sue: It's Friday. Only about ten more minutes.

But by no means will Saturday mean that it has in fact finished. After working two different English teaching jobs my understanding, appreciation and frustration for English have all gone up. I am still infatuated with the language. I can safely say, after having micro scoped it, that my understanding is higher than average. This affords me the leverage to make Friday an adjective.

In other words I had a revelation. Fridays are very important. Thursday night feels like a dream. I sleep better on Thursday nights. I wake up more refreshed, the sun is brighter and the voices happier. The world is a better place. But, again, by no means will we make all days Fridays. that's like making everyone a millionaire. It wouldn't mean as much. Enjoy your weekend and congrats Dave.

a poem

The seeds have been sewn
The lights have been shown
I stay away from palindromes
It's a new day for metronomes
We ease from this earth
Find our self worth
The moments that are lost
Melt away like the frost
It turns into dew
And I bid you adieu

Sorry to all the metrophobes who may have shrunk away from this. I just felt inspired. I remember the Chinese poetry class I took in college. Their jobs were to sit under tress and write poetry. They would laugh and drink wine, take naps and breathe language. I have often wondered what the equivalent is in these times we live in. Perhaps that is a tradition that was done in by people who could never dream. The envy was too much so they stopped squashing the grapes and cut down the trees. No more dreams they screamed and burned the paper reams. See, sometimes it's infectious like a curious disease. Is it still a disease if it makes your life better?

Sucker Free City

I just watched Sucker Free City, I'm on a Spike Lee kick. It was a good movie but what I liked was that I had been to some of the places in the movie. The basketball court he goes to borrow money, not where they argue about bootlegging or where the drive by happened, I've played ball there. That's all I have to say about that.

I felt good today, even though I had to race around to find somewhere to piss. I felt one with this city, for a while I had felt like an outsider. I think I have accepted it as my home. I have been here a year and a half but still felt like a visitor. What I like so much about this city is that fact that it is so condensed. If you walk for ten minutes, unless your in the Richmond or the Mission, then you are in a completely different part of town. And the characters are abundant. The city is full of people, not because it's so big but because it's so small.

This realization is kind of bittersweet for me. I am starting to fit in this city yet the urge to leave has been becoming much stronger. If I did leave it would be somewhere utterly different. I mean another country. I feel young and brave and I don't want to waste that. I may not be that healthy physically, but my mind is a world class athlete. I'm ready to create and starve. Not from hunger from food but from hunger of the soul. I want to be misunderstood and confused. When I went to Japan before I had no idea what lied ahead. Now I know and can embrace it, let it flourish while I contemplate. From what I know about myself is, it might take some time but I will understand.

One of these days...

I will get hit in the face. I will show up to a party and there will someone there who will become a great friend of mine and someone who will become an enemy. I will paint a twelve foot mural. I will walk for at least a mile barefoot. I will judge some sort of beauty contest. I will design my own pair of sneakers. I will go back to Japan. I will set a body part on fire. I will travel in a hot air balloon. I will teach a class of over 250 students. I will hear my voice on the radio once more. I will eat nothing but fruit for a week. I will cry tears of joy. I will change someone's mind about how they view the world. I will tell someone a lie thinking that it is absolutely true. I will lose all the money I have at that time. I will kiss a blind woman. I will remember someone's name who was convinced I had forgotten all about them. I will learn how to type. I will inadvertently reveal that Santa Claus doesn't exist to a child who still believes. I will be caught in a flood. I will learn a magic trick. I will be hired for a job purely on the fact that they feel then can trust me rather than having all the necessary skills. I will need to wear glasses on a daily basis. I will sing a rock opera in my underwear. I will be completely sober when I do all of these things.

In slippers and a sweatshirt

I think I have found out what this ball of energy stored up in me is for. I have wasted too much of the recent months sitting at home watching television. Although I enjoy this, there might even come a chuckle or two. But I am living in this amazing city and am not taking advantage of it. There are things I could be doing. Life is waiting for me.

I roll my eyes a lot this time of year. Fucking Christmas ads. It is November Ninth and as an American consumer I am to be thinking about what I am going to give and get for Christmas. There has to be some way that I can afford all of it. I know I have spent money that I don't have and many people around me have as well. I'm supposed to have a family or beginning one. There have been times when I see those hallmark moments and I think about the day when I have kids, well unfortunately that when has changed to an if. Maybe that is where my frustration lies. I don't see myself fitting into that cookie cutter idea of what I should be doing. Land of the free and the home of the brave? It seems the only brave ones are the ones who decide to be free.

I know that I am not as Kerouac as I would like to be, but I am also not as American as people think I should be. There is an American idea as seen from our television. Buy shit, if you can't afford it, get a credit card. We'll help you with the payments and everyone around you will be happy. I guess I am lucky that I grew up in the household I did. It taught me that there is more to life than what is given to me on Christmas day. My family loves me. I am not thought of as a lesser human being because I am not making 60 grand a year. I'm sure they would like that security for me but they know me better than to think that makes me happy. And you do too.

It's easy for the man who has little say that he doesn't want more, but isn't it easier to say that he does. I don't subscribe to the idea that if only I had this or that then I will be happy. I have what I have and I make due. My mind, my heart and my passions are what make me smile, not my new car, not the new earrings that I can give my girlfriend. (for any future potential mates of mine, disregard me if you think I will ever buy these for you, but I will make you amazing meals, write poetry if you truly touch me and make you feel like a queen even if you don't have a thrown.)

Scoff scoff scoff.

Another day off

I was blessed with two days off in a row, this is nothing new, it's my normal schedule but yesterday felt very long. Today, as I have done for the past two weeks, I sat down and wrote a story. I have a degree in writing, but it has been only over the past two years that I have been writing and that is without any consistency. I am writing and it feels good. Now most of you don't write but there is something that that you know you should be doing but don't. That's this for me.

In college I had assignments to write a short story about once a week. I thought it was impossible to write three thousand words, but now it's taking me only about two hours or so. I never understood those writers who could crank out a novel year after year or even biannually.(Twice a year not every two years) This lifestyle appeals to me. It's just that I haven't had any professional validation of my writing, partly because a few of my stories have been rejected and partly because I haven't submitted that many.

I find it a rare gift where one can step outside of themselves and be truly honest about what they create. I think it goes either way. They favor themselves too much or are too hard on themselves. What you want to be is the latter. That way when something good happens you will still appear modest and more deserving of the accolades. I guess I will just have to start submitting and we'll see where we go from there.

Keep up the good work and carry on

Three followers, nice!

Yesterday I was sick, probably because earlier this week I bragged how I haven't gotten sick all year. However, I feel that it was a twenty-four hour bug. The trick is to do a few simple things. Drink a lot, and I mean a lot, of water. When I got home last night I drank three twenty ounce bottles of water in about 45 minutes. Make sure you blow your nose every time you have to. Sweat while you sleep. All of these things will give a door for your body to kick out the cause of your misery. (It doesn't hurt to get about eleven hours of sleep. Since these bugs seem to happen to me on Fridays after a week I of shitty sleep I can afford to sleep late.)

Enough on that. How are you? Even though I have been fiercely battling a cold, I have had so much energy. Yesterday in the teacher's room I was bouncing off the walls. I wanted to run. Actually, I wanted the exhilaration of my heart beating fast without physical exertion. I felt like I could fly. All I needed was one good jump and I could soar over downtown San Francisco. Alas, I did not go to the sixth floor and jump off, I went into my class and finished the day. I just hope I didn't miss my chance.

Earlier tonight I went for a walk to clear my head. I left around one a.m. I got back and made some tea, but again I am getting that feeling. Not just my hand is shaking, but my soul. I am itching for an explosion. I want to see am magnificent fireball in the distance and run to it to make sure no one is hurt only to get there and see a color I or no other human has ever seen. I want that color to fill my eyes and release tears. I want it to somehow enter my lungs and I would exhale a powerful smoke the engulfs the surrounding area. I want it to grab hold of my body and let me float.

This has been coming for awhile. I have been waiting for something but I don't know what it is. My legs to twitch sometimes, and usually I can't sit still. This is nothing new. However, if you were to ask anyone who knew me they would say that I'm not a nervous person. I think that my whole life I have been waiting for something. The tension has been increasing over the past few months. Also, I would say that I am a patient person, when I know what I'm waiting for. It's the not knowing that is getting to me. Do any of you know?

Four sugar cookies and half a bag of chips later...

As I sat on my stoop to breathe toxic air, I thought about the way I see myself. He wears plaid, has a mustache and people think he is ten years older than his still ripe stage of 26. The bags under my eyes don't help. Now before you begin in on me for my superficiality, I have no body issues.

I do see myself as an old man when I look at my face. I don't feel bad about this, physically. I feel bad about this because I don't know if I deserve to have my face have so much character. It looks leathery, but white, a transparent hue. My wrinkles have not faded even with those special creams. The purple under my eyes smiles at me whenever I try to get some sleep. Maybe that's what it is. I have never really slept well. Could those extra hours have already turned into years? Maybe experience doesn't have to have lived on a boat for two years, or been in a car crash that had flipped three times.

I was awake and alive for more hours in a day than an average human who averages eight hours of sleep per night. Think about it, while asleep the only thing you contribute is the air you give to plants. You may be inspired by dreams but you can't doing anything until those eight hours are up. This thought actually upsets me, because all the time in the past while trying to fall asleep I did nothing. I guess, mainly I expanded my knowledge and indulged in various different art forms. I will make a resolution. From now on I will try to contribute to life instead of tossing and turning.

On another note, I am quite happy with how far I can flick cigarettes.

The people I saw on the way home.

After leaving Abbott's after a nice dinner and thoughts provoked I walked and rode the bus.

A man approached me. I assumed he was just going the other way and with my headphones on I don't know if he said anything to me. He stopped so I stopped. He asked for a quarter, I gave him three. He said, "Thank you, sir" and I felt sad as I briskly walked away to cross the street.

In front of the firehouse on Webster St. I passed by a normal man who looked at me at the precise moment I was licking my lips, something I rarely do.

On the bus after the driver almost failed to stop for me, I saw a man, a jittery man who was still wearing his sunglasses.

Another jittery woman sat in running attire and I wondered why she was taking the bus when clearly she was out for a jog.

A woman in front of me wore a wonderfully made sweater and I hoped it was homemade but doubted it was.

Three young people got on the bus. The guy was holding an Arnold Palmer iced tea in a container that people question if it is beer or not.

The girls sat across from each other, while laughing and wearing clothes that are only accepted because they are ironic and ironic is cool when you are in you early twenties and dress as if you had just graduated kindergarten. Before their stop one girl hoisted herself up while pulling on the cable to signal the bus to stop. She swung on it like it was the jungle gym. Maybe her clothes weren't the only thing to signal she was missing her youth.

A doppelganger of mine got on the bus and madly swung into his seat as I had only four minutes earlier.

Four boys sat in the back of the bus, skateboards in hand, and I wondered why they weren't skateboarding.

Just before I made it home I saw a woman in a car.

I know

I'm sorry to all of you who didn't get a chance to read my blog yesterday. (I am writing this like people actually read this, don't ruin it. Just let me have this.)

I was thinking about time and space, the universe, the reason we exist and then I realized that somethings burden us rather than enlighten us. I could devote the rest of my life to answer these questions like so many others have, but I have decided not to. Sure it may be because I lack the motivation or the intellect to even begin my search, my quest for brain knowledge, but really it's because I don't want to. We live our lives doing what we want to and doing things we don't want to. What is the percentage difference for you? I think this is how we should examine our lives, not if we are happy, in love, satisfied, but rather if we have chosen to do the things we are doing. Now, I must explain that there is a difference in making ourselves happy and doing what we want to do. I conscientiously know that some things I want to do will cause me pain, suffering, anguish and possibly a complete mental breakdown (I'm thinking about the time I wanted to bring back Disco, and yes I will always capitalize it.) Now granted most of the things we want to do is to bring us happiness.

However, we do things to get us money, increase our knowledge or help someone we care about, or even stranger, to help someone we don't. I have a mission for you. The next time you do something, ask yourself if it was something you wanted to do (remember reasons exceed or differ from happiness.) Then, if you didn't want to do it ask yourself why you did it. If you did want to do it, find the reason. Also remember that "something" has a different definition for everyone. I just did something, and so did you. Now, ask yourself why?

Hi Dave

Dinner in an empty apartment

Today was productive. In fact the past few weeks have been. I started a routine where I write everyday (here) and then once a week I write a story. It feels good to create. I can't make music or paint, but I like using words in print to sing on canvas. I think that's why America won the cold war.

Stay with me now.

One of my favorite periods in literature is that of the cold war, the sixties. Look at America, we had the beats. In the U.S.S.R. all the writers were stifled, they were exiled. They weren't allowed to flourish, to create, to heaven forbid, destroy. The great writers, Kundera, were not allowed to speak. They were pushed down, shrunk in the private and public eye. When I read those writers the passion of life and death was there. I could see the reflections of their intense eyes on the page. Every word they wrote meant punishment. All the while Hunter S. Thompson is running for Mayor.

Now anyone can write. Look at what you're reading. If you're not reading this then, never mind. Some people might be afraid of over saturation. Most people are smart enough to know what should be read and some think they have no choice. But remember this, you always have a choice in Art. Don't get mad when you find something meant to be artful insults you. Don't mention their name. You give them power. Your thoughts of them create emotions that bring you down when you could create something to make you and your friends smile. That's just how I feel, if you disagree, forget it.

Dustin

Today was a good day. I cleaned cooked, ate, smoked and drank. All of these things, some of them just necessary, some pleasurable, happened. I would like to thank the people who dressed up today. It was nice to see people around dressing silly, sounding stupid and enjoying themselves.

I feel as if this weekend has been a huge transition, but I don't know what's changing, I don't understand it. And you know what, that's fine. I don't need to understand everything. I hope that is not a defeatist attitude. I moved from Mike's, ran out of pills, and am starting a new relationship. It also seems that Japan will happen again. But what about my dream about being a rockstar? I want that. I want those screaming fans, the energy in the room caused by me, the late nights, the new, fake friends, the empty feeling when it's finished. I just hope I can be a rockstar in Japan. That would combine the two.

I'm sorry, I'm being selfish, what are your goals?