There’s a gap since my last entry, as I’ve been consumed by an uncontrollable indulgence in Resident Evil 4. I can’t explain my exhilaration for blasting down zombies, decapitating mutant monks, and running away from regenerating corpses. Nor will I apologize for it. We all have urges to feed. This is one of mines. Anyways, I finally finished the game. Therefore, I can write again now…
Spent the last weekend, with Luann, Jade, Lily & Jason, down in Menefee (about an hour from L.A.) visiting Eric at his new job, and new life, at “Looking Good”. Being sick right before the trip made it a bit harder for me to have fun, but I had managed. I’ve been needing a good trip with good friends for awhile. Half-way through the trip, a heated debate erupted amongst the group involving topics of hip-hop, race, and other so-called controversial topics. In my experience, this is bound to happen on any trip I set out to relax. But, I’ve come to realize that is what we’re all harboring deep within our psyche, esp. when we take our vacations, to release our angst and frustation of our P.O.V. of the world. It’s a curse to be full of ego, but what choice do we got if that’s how the creator/universe/parents created us? Anyways, ever since I got back from the trip, I’ve been still sick, buzzed off Nyquil. I haven’t been quite this sick in ages. Must be something in the air. Anyways, there are new pics to observe at my observer section.
The next day: It’s freakin’ like 5am in the morning, and I realized I had not written anything of significance in the last entry. Has my well ran dry? There wasn’t much water to pump in the first place, but you’re here to still pump. (I will refrain from a sexual reference here.) I actually woke up an hour ago, allowing the last of my Nyquil hit to wan down a bit. I just couldn’t sleep. When you got shit on your mind, especially at my age, you build this attitude about trying to be productive, and how one should live a “do or die” life. Still, my mind is blank with ideas to write. I can grab my notebooks and journals and brainstorm shit. But, it’s freakin’ 5am in the mornin’ and one has to be quite desperate to find the need to write to the world whose half-asleep and the other half being unproductive. Who am I fooling?
Anyways, I just spent the last Nyquil-induced (it’s legal, okay!), waking hour finishing up the last few essays of Kevin Smith’s collected writings entitled Silent Bob Speaks. It’s freakin’ hilarious stuff. He’s the guy who did the Jersey movies (i.e. Chasing Amy, Clerks, Mallrats, Dogma, J&SBSB – not in that order). A guy so cultured in the mind shouldn’t be let loose on the world. But if you love his shit, I’d highly recommend also An Evening with Kevin Smith, a DVD collection of his lectures. Oh, and god-in-chripes, watch his freakin’ movies!
Have I said anything productive yet? Not yet? Well, I’m not doing anything the rest of the waking half is not doing. I’m freakin’ stayin’ alive, ain’t I? I said ‘freakin’ how many times already? Well, maybe I feel the flow of the real ‘F’ word is not flowin’. Was that hip-hop influenced? So many questions about life itself.
Aw, fuckit, let’s just see what’s on my mind…
In myths about everyone from Hercules to the Buddha, rewards do not come without struggle.
There are labors to be undertaken, tests to be passed, hardships to overcome.
Happy endings are the product of tragic beginnings.
– Jenna Jameson
I’ve recently picked back up the Bible (KJV), and trying to finish the whole entire god-darn thing, from the Beginning (Genesis) to the End (Revelations). Not for religious or spirituality reasons, mind you. (I’m a hardcore atheist, and you better believe it.) But I had promised myself that one day I finish the fucker word-for-word. To make my mind cultured, full of life, and worldly. But, alot of the shit is freakin’ boring. But I gotta have faith that I will finish it. I’ve been trying to get into more female writers – Ayn Rand, Jane Austen, Anais Nin, etc. But the last book I read by a female author was Jenna Jameson’s How to Make Love To A Pornstar: A Cautionary Tale. I read out of morbid, and libido, curiousity. But it’s a tragedy for some to live this life. I admit, I’m a typical guy when it comes to porn – salivating at the thought of people having sex for our viewing pleasure. But, a large part of my heart feels sadden at the thought of the degredation of a person’s sexuality to entice our most animalistic senses. Who am I to judge though? It is quite impressive to me that Jenna, despite her crooked life, became legit. Redemption is not something people can fuck with. Well, where’s there money to be made, there’s someone to sell & buy. Anyways, I’ve showed this book to a few (unnamed) guys, just to spark their attention and entice blue balls. With the few pics that were in the books, these men were more intimidated by the fact that there were written words (made up by the alphabet). I don’t know, but this also saddens me… fucken illiterates who can’t read pornographic literature. It’s truly the decline of civilization goin’ on here, folks.
Okay, time to sleep.
8:48AM: Okay, I slept a few hours. And I still feel sick. I’m gonna go see the doc today. Maybe he will prescribe me some good stuff to heal me.
For all you folks old enough to remember the original Amityville Horror, there’s an unnecessary remake out in theatres now. Considered by the media to be the “most famous true haunted house story”, the myth and hoax of the Amityville home was sensationalized to sell the book and the classic 1979 movie that it inspired. Now, most of you know that I’m an absolute non-believer in the supernatural/paranormal claims. But, the Amityville Horror holds a special place in my psychology. During my preteen youth, when I had initially acquired an interests in books dealing with “true ghost stories” (it was my sense of adventure into the unknown), I had discovered Jay Anson’s The Amityville Horror scrunched in between books about tarot reading and UFO abuductees, at my local library. With the words “A True Story” written below the book’s title, I quickly snatched it up and consumed it for days. After reading everything from the DeFeo murders, to walls dripping blood, the Red Room in the basement, the floating demonic pig named “Jodie”, 3:15am, and Reverend John’s claim to the truth of the hauntings, I could not sleep for days. It’s like I gotten on a roller coaster that did not stop. Whether a believer or not, this was a creative and inventive ghost story that will never leave you forgetting that the read itself was an experience in sheer psychological terror. I’d highly recommend it! But, about this new remake, I had seen the trailer and I’m quite disappointed that Jodie is portrayed as a young girl (trying to capitalize on The Ring popularity). But that won’t stop me from not watching it ’cause they left in the Oscar-nominated, creppy, skin-crawling theme song. (Downloaded, if you can find it. Otherwise, I will sing it for you…) “La, la… La, la… La, la, la, la, la, la…”
The next, next day, about 4AM in the mornin’: While totally buzzed on my prescribed cough syrup, I was mind-numbingly grazing through a short story entitled “Understand” by Ted Chiang. It’s a first-person science fiction tale of a human going through super-intelligent transformations by being injected with a drug called Hormone K. At what point does in become a total mindfuck reading about constructing new languages, attaining ultimate self-awareness, cognitive boredom, pattern recognition in humans, etc. when one is high? I mean, gees, can you imagine understanding things that goes beyond the scientific, religious, and psychological knowledge that we so far evolved in learning? Basically, what I’m saying is, what if evolution was sped up at a rate where humans will no longer be just humans? I do get bored, and impatient with the daily routine of surviving. Where’s the higher awareness when morality, physics, and philosophy are bent out of their own existence. Sorry, I’m just buzzed on cough syrup.
Almost 10PM at night: I just got back from a wedding banquet of my cousin Clifford’s marriage to Pearl. Congratulations! It was small, but typical Chinese banquet stuff. Throughout the entire ceremony and dinner, my mind was on a different plane. With blood-shot eyes and a subdued mental state, I was going through cough syrup withdrawl. I’ve become a legal drug addict. Fuck, I’m still coughing a little bit. One more dosage tonight, and that’s it… relax…
I’ve been noticing, that I mostly write about friends and books. Oh, so much culture and experience to drink from life. What am I missing?