Been a while, sorry about that.
Between bouts of self-pity about my own problems, I've been thinking a lot recently about what it is that makes someone who they are. Just what is it that's actually you? Not so long ago, someone very near to my heart suffered from a bad stroke (more specifically, a series of small ones). Since then, he has recovered greatly and regained much of what the stroke took from him. Needless to say, the human brain is an incredible device. But, really, it is precisely that incredible feat of design which brings me to wonder. If this brain, this intellect, is such a complex and integral part of us, what is left when you remove it?
I can remember going to visit him not long after the event. I was sitting with him in the cafeteria of some sort of a long-term-stay wing of a hospital. It was lunch hour and the dozen or so residents of this wing had gathered for what was as much of a pill-consumption session as it was a meal. The stark contrasts in the room became quickly apparent. All of the people sitting around the lunch table were somewhere between the ages of 60 and really old, and most possessed obvious ailments. As I sat near my friend helping him eat, a snowy-haired old woman sitting near him paused in the middle of her vitamin meal and said to him, "Oh... you must have had an accident." She said it as if she were talking, with a small measure of pity, to ailing child. For though he was well more advanced in years than myself, he was still a youngin' to these.
Life has a way of making you pause during these really important moments, as if it were saying, "Stop, and pay attention to this. This is important."
The old woman's words have since resonated greatly with me. The unfairness, the injustice, of the whole situation was just contemptuous. This wasn't supposed to be this way! I still wanted to play hockey with my friend, go way too fast down dirt bike trails, backpack through the local wilderness. But as I sat there helping him through the most basic of daily tasks, I was hit with the realization that those times were gone.
It sounds cruel to say, but I wondered at times if this was really the same person. Could he be? I had many memories of talking with him about philosophy, theology, even mathematics. And now he had trouble understanding what he was looking at on the television. Was this just a shell of the mind I once knew? Or did I ever really know his mind? Was it something else?
Science tells us that without our grey squishy stuff, there wouldn't be much more to us than a boney sack of transitory parts. And I think that's worth noting. If I were to somehow be injured such that I couldn't really think or understand any longer, I would be basically non-functional.
But, I would still be loved.
And that's at the heart of this turmoil. To see your friend have everything taken away only hurts so much because you still love him that much. And the simple facts of the situation would tell you that you have less of a reason to keep on loving, but it just doesn't work that way. The essence of love is that it keeps on loving even though it has no reason to. It's really the only thing of its kind. What would cause some to sacrifice for others if not love? What would drive a complete God to create us if not love? What would cause this terrifying and sudden pain if not love?
So I found myself sitting there, longing for the person I once knew but loving the person I know even more. I didn't make this mess and I certainly didn't make these rules, but life has a painfully real way of reminding you how important you make everything by risking love. If care is to invite the risk of loss, then loss must litter the path to life most full.
I feel like I should have some summarizing end here. But, I don't have anything. I'm at a sudden loss for words. I suppose it suffices to say that this is the way things are, and that it is truly better to have lost than to have never had. Maybe this whole love mess is what makes us more than the dirt we are made out of. We hurt, and therefore are.
with one more step towards destiny
he's found all he'll ever be
he once felt sad he once felt bold
he once cared for all he's sold
--
Have you ever had one of those really introspective moments? In general, I try to avoid them at all costs. You never know what you will find in there. It's sorta scary really. I mean, what if you look inside and don't like what you see? Maybe worse, what if you see nothing? Like a great black sea of indifferent, cold, drowning reality? That's one of my great fears (aside from spiders). I fear that deep down inside there is nothingness. It's like looking behind yourself and not seeing your shadow. It makes you wonder if you forgot to exist when you got up that morning.
Droll isn't it? Well that's what makes it scary. Sure tigers and Ebola are fearsome, but at least they will end you with a cacophony of snarling life, one great organism devouring another. But what if you step up to your great challenge only to see it look in your direction with confusion, and walk away? That's just plain unsettling.
What is a man if not the measure and content of his heart? I should fill that space with refuse to avoid the shame of indifference and the suffering of gross negligence. Ok, I admit, now I'm throwing a bit of a tantrum. I guess I sorta expected life to be a bit more like Camelot, and a bit less like the wild west (the real wild west).
Anyway, that's what I'm afraid of.
--
the man goes clank
what once was bone has turned to stone
and he cannot hide the silence inside
the man goes clank
So I had this thought see...
I keep trying to find the rhythm to this life. But somewhere along the way, I seem to get lost in its syncopations. It's like listening to a song that keeps twisting and turning, chorus becomes verse, verse becomes bridge, bridge... something else entirely. And no matter how hard I try to control my little world, it keeps eluding definition.
I have, for the longest time, found feeling to be a difficult thing. There's probably more than one reason for that, but let me over-simplify this by saying that the more you understand about the possibilities that life presents, the more difficult it can become to choose just one of those possibilities and actually think it special or worthy of attention. One man's verse is another's chorus I suppose.
It's not as if I disbelieve in real definition. No, only in finite systems can you really find this blasphemous complexity. God may say that his mind is beyond comprehension and understanding, but I would wager that such infinity is bound by real lines. And that's just it. The insulting reality is that the universe does end (in whatever way), yet it is still altogether infinite to you and I. How much more a slap in the face to be told that life doesn't fit into your box because it is infinite, but still fitting within the finite reality of its maker? It is humiliating to see the end of your wisdom fall so completely short of the truth.
But where does that leave us as we peruse our goals, our ends? I'd like to label my plight with nice well-defined rules that clearly delineate what is possible and what isn't. But, it just doesn't work that way. We must act knowing little to nothing. Faith as it were. It is with the barest hint of insanity that life laughs at us and our problems. Only a madman could have made a world like this--a beautiful, brilliant madman.
Freedom is as illustrious as it is terrifying.
That's right boys and girls, it's that time again: the time where we all gather 'round the campfire and tell scary stories of illness, health, and the greedy insurance companies that stand in-between the two. Yes, that's right, let's talk about health insurance!
I was talking with a co-worker of mine about the current health-care situation in the states. The conversation had been stirred up by the frenzy of political activity. He was talking about how easy it is to get screwed by the system if you don't stay in jobs that offer good benefits and generally complaining about the brokenness of it all. And, it's true really. Having a baby, for example, is a monumentally expensive process if done outside of insurance. And, while the rules vary a bit from state to state (not to mention different countries), the general story is that if you are in dire need of health care and you have no insurance, you are probably fucked.
Naturally, here come the politicians to the rescue! It doesn't take a great effort to find one or another political figure decrying our current system and touting the just-over-the-horizon glory of one or another universal health care system. And, in a way, I can't help but like the idea that everyone could receive the care they need.
But for better or worse, my general uneasiness with the ugliness of mobs makes me question this apparent trend (gg Canada) towards universal health care. All of the hoopla brings two important questions to my mind. First, what do you deserve, and second, what do you need?
To the first point, I would say the answer is probably 'nothing'. Yes, it's a tragedy to see the poor suffer because they cannot afford care that would alleviate much suffering. But who am I to say what you deserve? What grounds would I use? Maybe because you are American? Are the poor of Togo or Mexico really so different or less deserving? That seems pretty pompous and shortsighted. Is it because you are human... I confess I don't even know what that idea would mean. And even if it does mean something to be human, are we not treading the 'irrational' territory of religion? Certainly man can solve this problem!
And what do you need? If a hospital is full to capacity, does the man with a broken foot need treatment more than the man with a broken hand? What if you were dying? Do you need to live? I would reckon that most if not all the people who will die this very day believe that they need to live. Yet, they will not. So what actual ground do you use? Really, there are no purely humanist grounds. We get health care because we want it really badly... and that's about it.
See, there's this one little teensy-tiny problem: health care is expensive, really really expensive. The duration and difficulty of personnel training is great and the sciences (biological and technological) involved are complex. It takes a long time for doctors to get enough training where they reach our standards. And we crucify these same doctors when they don't reach our standards. Why? BECAUSE WE DESERVE LIFE DAMMIT!
Ok, now you are starting to think I’m a pretty cold bastard aren't you? Well make no mistake, if I suddenly had cancer, I would want treatment no matter what the insurance situation is like. I would want to live and I would want the best treatment. And I would only want all of this more if it were my child who had cancer. And I know full well the potential for greed in the corporate insurance system. And yes, other countries do have more universal health care.
But all of this is skirting a real problem that lies underneath whatever solution you choose. If we sorta zoom out of particular situations and look at the broader problem, I think it's easy to see that we have a nation of people not only desiring an extremely expensive thing that they do not have, but also declaring that it is their right that they should have it.
This is where the danger lies in the mob mentality of our desire for health care: we reject suffering. In fact, we are almost completely intolerant of suffering. And if science ever manages to solve the problem of illness, humanity will have one more item to scribe into its list of rights: self-governance, sexual freedom, religious freedom, freedom of speech, and now freedom of health. And humanity takes one more step towards independance.
You see, it's not that I dislike being healthy or that I think everyone should suffer. That would be silly. But focusing on the material reality forces you to miss a critical issue here. The problem is simply deeper than physical affliction. We will go to any lengths and stop at nothing to control our world and bring everything one step closer to our ideal utopia. I'm all for progress, but not if its foundations are intertwined with this ideal of independence.
No, no one will listen. All of us (myself included) will go on trying to make our lives better. It's human I suppose. But I can't help but notice how much uglier things are getting the greater man's power becomes. So tell the people what they want to hear. Let them live for a thousand years. The prodigal son wanders a bit further.
It was with almost-ravenous intensity that the Democratic National Convention cheered for Mr. Obama when he made the barest mention of health care for everyone. And my guess is that the other political associations will not be very different. But I wonder, when the new tower is complete and the king shoots his arrow into the sky, will the skies remain silent?
"I have great hopes that we shall learn in due time how to emotionalise and mythologise their science to such an extent that what is, in effect, belief in us, (though not under that name) will creep in while the human mind remains closed to belief in the Enemy." --Uncle Screwtape
My room sucks. It's really hot (upstairs & no AC), it has no power (literally, bad wiring or something), and I'm attacked by spiders in my sleep.
Currently, I have 3 active bites on me. The one on the bottom of my foot is the most irritating. It's pretty hard not to walk on it, and that just makes it itch more. No one else in the house has gotten bit yet, but this is like my 6th in the last month or so. I've been reading on spider fighting strategies. Please, let me know if you know of any good methods. My best bet so far has been to move my bed away from the wall. We'll see if that helps...
I was sitting in the living room watching TV last night, and within about 15 minutes I had one spider crawling on me and one that was zooming towards my face! This... is unacceptable. No one else seems to be having these problems... Maybe it's something I'm eating.
Anyway, as I'm sure you can tell by the mundane nature of this post, not much is going on. The band almost had a show, but it turned out to be kinda a scam. So, I don't think that will work out. Raxim is here now, and he's quickly learning the new material. I think we will be ready soon for another attempt at some solid demo tracks. The last ones pretty much failed in every respect. Oh well.
Keeping it short and simple. I'll write something more interesting soon.
Been mulling about in what could be described as a deep funk for a while. Alas, time waits for no man's tantrum. So, on we go.
I've sorta written about this before, so I suppose this isn't entirely new ground. I've been wondering lately how much of people's behavioral problems lie completely within the presuppositions about the strength of temptation. I think an example might be useful.
Suppose a man is addicted to drugs. It's ruining his personal and professional life, but he just can't kick the habit. The standard methods would involve something like a 10 step plan, accountability, and abstinence. I'm not knocking those methods at all. But, suppose that somewhere in the middle of this, he is allowed to see his situation from a more objective perspective--take a 'step back' as it were. I think he would see something like this:
Man looses everything because he likes the feeling of a certain chemical.
Silly isn't it? When you break it down, most of the really serious addiction problems are kinda ridiculous. I'm not belittling the difficulty of the struggle or the depth of the consequences, but you cannot deny the facts. You lost your wife, your kids, your [insert something important] because you just had to have your sex, booze, drugs, money, fame, or whatever. And in the end, the thing that you just can't stop doing is almost always incredibly, well... cheap. Why would a sane person give everything up for that?
Now, addiction is just an easy example. Really though, I'm wondering more about behavior at large. The more I've thought about it, a lot of the "poor" behavior I've caught myself in has resulted from me half-way assuming that the temptation was too great. And that's the part that seems so odd. I do what I do because it is so tempting, but I never stop and think about how strong the temptation actually is.
"And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear." - 1 Cor 10:13
Religious or not, what would you rather think? Are we held to the whims of whatever lure crosses our path, or are we allowed a lot more choice than might make us comfortable? I think it is the latter, and I think the power we have is greater than our current societal norms might have us think.
I'm not ignoring biological factors, but given the chance, how many hard-core addicts (of whatever vice) could instantly cold-turkey quick their problem for say... a million bucks? 10 million? See what I'm getting at? If something as simple as money can have an effect, then were is the line? If I stop assuming, what will my behavior become? Yeah, maybe the self-help gurus are a little right. I can feel my thetan count rising as I speak. The power of the mind is revealed!
Oh but wait, how much more guilty does this make me? How much worse is it for a free man to choose poorly than for a slave to be compelled to do so?
"Would it make things easier..." -- Dope
The Not-Quite-Poetry of Petty Complaint
-------------------------
Today's the day she died.
Another version of you.
Never quite right, but still missed.
I'm left with nothing...
Again
And in the bitterness of it all.
I've forgetten why I started at all.
Another soon to come.
Fill what can't be won.
And it takes all I have
to not be the bitterness I believe in.
Another soon to come.
I'm so sure.
Another manikin dance
to fill the empty halls
with sounds of scooting feet.
It hurts to loose
to be fooled into thinking
you had in the first place.
---------------------------------
I haven't written in a while. And that's mostly because I would have written about the same thing. And it helps me to believe that I don't bitch constantly.
But life doesn't care about any of that. And duty calls, a duty I've too long forgotten. Something someone (someone whom I haven't liked in a very long time) said reminded me of what I am... supposed to be. Though cold and miserable, there are mountains to climb and flags to plant.
I think there comes a time when you've wanted something so bad for so long that the simple desire begins to mutate. After a while, you get so used to feeling need and the hole left behind that it all begins to create its own side affects. Sometimes, it can make you feel bitter and deprived, like you are missing something that is some sort of basic privilege or right that everyone is entitled to. Or sometimes, it leads to reaching for alternative sources, none of which quite satiate. Or maybe it just leads to basic depression. But whatever the affects, after a while, you can completely forget what it was you wanted and why you wanted it. And along the way, you completely lost how you lived life without the want.
To make things worse, all of this wanting-and-not-getting also seems to lead to its own bizarre self-perpetuating little dementias. For one, there's a subtle drama to need, and I don't think it is lost on many. Somewhere in there, there's a sort of legitimacy that is granted to those who are in 'dire' straights. This is when you start to hear things like, "I need this, and I don't have it. So everyone should pay attention to me because I'm such a poor sap." So not only does the need create a drama of pain, but it also brings a sense of importance to one's situation. What artist ever wrote about the really content? That's just not compelling. How much better a good teary tragedy of loss?
At this point, it's easy to say that all of those thoughts are really just selfish. And, I agree with that. The addict can simply go without his fix. But does it matter? If someone is really convinced that they need something, telling them that they should stop complaining just seems cruel from their perspective. For who are you to condescend, to deny me what I need? And actual logic just goes right out the door if you happen to already have what they want. For surely, those with cannot judge those without, right? It's just another set of weird illogics that we use to justify it all. And the unfortunate truth is that none of us deserve anything really. Tomorrow, a baby will be aborted, a child will starve to death, and a love will be betrayed. Surely as the sun shines, you can have everything one moment and loose it the next. So who are you to complain for lack of anything? Altruistic isn't it? But it just doesn't work. People want, people care, and people are saddened when they do not get.
So somewhere in all of this mess there has to be some sort of sustaining truth, some way to live 'life to the full' (Unless of course you are something like a nihilist... and that's just stupid). How does one really rejoice during suffering, no matter how small? To be honest, I don't know. What if God didn't restore Job? What if Abraham had killed his Isaac? What if the story doesn't end well? What if you are the martyr burned at the stake? I cannot accept these realities; for on some fundamental level, I am unwilling to let God be the God of my suffering.
"My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me."-- Matt 26
I haven't really felt much like writing lately. What little motivation I can summon has gone into stuff for the RPG. And, I'm not so sure anyone would have any interest in reading stuff like creature descriptions. But just to let you in on a little secret, some of them are really cool. So, this post will be a short one.
Band stuff is still moving along. Our faithful engineer Jeromy says he'll be done with tracks by monday, so we should see some stuff on the net soon. Also, we are importing a second guitarist from Sacremento. Raxim will arrive soon, and no, the world isn't ready. We are moving forward alright, and my kit continues to grow and reshape itself. But I won't bother you with geeky drum stuff.
Sorry, but nothing more interesting to post at the moment except this:
"...the while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life." --Augustine
This is a concept piece for some zombie RPG writing I'm thinking about. It's graphic and a bit offensive. Don't read it if you care about that sort of thing.
-------
I'm not sure whether they invented this to enslave us or to slowly kill us. Either way, it seems to be working. All the zombies do is fuck. Right now, there's a pile of about 40 of 'em, writhing about outside our gate.
I think maybe someone hoped it would turn out like the movies, legions of 'undead' sent about with infectious bites to kill everyone off for whatever reason. And just like the movies, their numbers are growing. Only, they forgot that the human instinct to eat brains isn't the only base instinct. That, and their saliva isn't the only infectious bodily fluid they excrete. Don't get me wrong, get too close and they'll try to bite you. Mostly though when they get in large numbers like this, they just fuck. And the infection is growing.
More than the eventual death from decomposition, more than the horrible legions and boils, more than the lifeless eyes and the bloody maw, I fear the humiliation. More than anything, I fear that ridiculous end, a mindless lump of flesh reduced to bestial pleasure because it's the only semblance of humanity that it can still remember.
But, regardless of how cosmically unacceptable their undead orgy may be, they can still bite the children... or worse. So we head out to the pile. Once they are in the throws of their 'passion', they become oblivious to the walking talking flame-thrower-wielding t-bone steaks that approach them.
The first one I see is lying halfway out of the pile with about 6 or 7 others stacked on top of her. She was probably about 60 before they got her. Pus, decomposition liquids, and miscellaneous creamy fluids run down the half of her face that hasn't been chewed off. And the whole scene of it becomes so grotesquely inappropriate that I can't decide whether to laugh or throw up. So I make and uneasy giggle, eyes wide, unsure if I look like I'm finally loosing it. But does it matter? What is simple madness in the face of such and abomination. And sure enough, none of the lads notices. Everyone seems distracted by the man on top, trying to hump his non-existent bloody stump of what used to be his dick into... I don't know what that hole is.
I look up into the sky and ask God, "Are you kidding me?", as if it matters.
Our boss, the man in charge, realizes he is starting to loose us. He shouts in a loud strong tone, "All right gents! Let's clean this mess up and get back inside. My old woman is feeling randy tonight, and no one, especially this pile of shit, is going to get in the way of the first BJ I've gotten since before the war. Burn 'em, truck 'em, and dump 'em, like always."
We prime the lighters and set to it. You always get a mixed response when you set something on fire that really only understands eating and screwing. They keep going at it mostly. But occasionally, one of them pieces together the idea that they should move out of the flame. This time though, they just lie there. And that's the hardest part. Even if you manage to kill one, you just killed something that would rather fuck than live. Where's the honor in that?
