Hungry Tigers Unleashed...

I submit that it's not what you do, but what you think that counts. Scary prospect I know...considering what we think at times, but it might be a more honest road. A road fraught with fear, pain, animal urges, as well as hope, love, and a need to be loved...what we really are, not what we want to be.


I think that to deny existence of our most inner terrible, demented, fucked-up thoughts is a poison. We poison ourselves everyday. If we can acknowledge to ourselves that these thoughts, no matter how embarrassing they are, we have a real chance of confronting them. A real chance for introspection and maybe a resolve. To finally let go some of these mental tigers, let them run free and take their place in the nature of ourselves. There, they might die, or make new cubs. In any case...an answer.


To know oneself is to acknowledge every dark thought and as well as our shiny-sparkly-bright ones. I say let it begin! Maybe we'll find out we are not the person we thought we were, maybe we'll find out we're exactly the person we thought we were, more surely a little of both...and that's okay. The sooner we get real with ourselves, the sooner we can fix, heal, and embrace within.


I don't know about you, but my tigers are foaming-frenzy-famished-tigers. Only time will tell if I shoot them or let them live..."Born free! As free as the wind blows! As free as the grass grows! Born free to follow your heart!"

Ursa...

It's Fall. The falling. The smell of burning and last breaths. A linger of life before the big quiet. Soon I will turn unto myself. I sleep to dream. I wait.

I'm a Lousy God...

I'm a lousy God. I usually have dreams with people I've never met in real life, but they will re-occur in different dreams I have later. After a while I forget about them. Time goes by. Then I'll be sitting in the car and I'll remember them. What we did and maybe talked about. When things are a memory they seem like they really happened. I mean...that's how we live our lives, going though the now and the memory of the past. What happens when our memories get mixed up from what happened in reality and in our dreams? Are they any less real? What affects us, becomes real. We make it real. In a sense, we create worlds in our reality. I've created people in my dreams. I think about them. Maybe more than people who live in my "real" life. Do they exist? I think they do....at least in some misty swirling way. They have become real to me. I created them. I created them and I rarely think of them. I'm a forgetful shitty God, who doesn't give them hardly anytime to live. I don't listen nor answer a single prayer of theirs. I hope they will forgive me for bringing them to life and only letting them live in the occasional short moments of my dreams...forgive me. I love you.

Talking With My Inner Dialog...

Outer: I need to go to bank. I gotta get ready for my Nashville trip. Shooting my Atom Orr video for my song "Friends Fur Life".

Inner: I wanna rob the bank. I've always wanted to rob a bank. Not in the daylight, but at night. Stealthily. In the shadows. Breaking and entering. Safe cracking. Diamond heists. Oooh! Yea diamond heists! Better than a bank. Gotta find a good fence though...

Outer: It'll be great to see my friends. I'm only there a week. It's gonna go by fast.

Inner: Whiskey! Lots of whiskey! So much I'll wake up in my own piss on the wooden floor of the bar. No...wait...I'll wake up in a seedy motel room 80 miles outside of town. I'll have no memory of how I got there, but there is a blue flower in my hand. What kind of flower is it? I haven't a clue...

Outer: Scouting out locations, thinking of some fun camera angles...

Inner: Prince's Hot Chicken Shack! Extra Hot! So hot my ass will flame out for 3 days. Pickles. White Bread. Potato salad. A slice of Chess pie. I wonder if that old black lady is still there? She was kinda sweet on me. *smile*

Outer: Green...Trees. Humidity. I love Tennessee. Home.

Inner: Going to clubs made from old laundromat's and basements. Late night diners and soul food that will smoke and cure you into a walking salted ham. Bonfires, more whiskey, weed and psychedelics...

Outer: Maybe I can get some writing and reading in. I wanna read some of works by Harlan Elliot and Richard Brautigan.

Inner: Yea! Write something. None of this hamby-bamby political correctness. Better to be banned than to be accepted I always say. Though I'm not too out there really. I'm not into rape, incest, little children, or have homosexual tendencies. I'd fuck all female ethnicities in the cunt or ass, but still...nothing too shocking...hmmm...even kinda blasé... *frown*

Outer: I'm so glad no one can hear my inner dialog...

I'm Not Talking Truth, But Crazy Truth!

I'm not talking about truth, but "crazy truth". There is a difference you know. The truth we all equate to is fact. 2 + 2 = 4. Crazy truth is 2 + 2 = 6. "Oh...I thought I saw that last number as a 4." Our perceived truth. It's not factual, but just as strong. More often than naught, we choose crazy truth over truth. Most of the time because we don't think there is a difference, and others because we know there is a difference but we like the crazy truth better.


In this sense we are creators of our reality...like when we dream. Ever read "The Circular Ruins" by Jorge Luis Borges? It's a short read, you should take a gander. He was heavily influenced by Miguel de Cervantes...you know the author of "Don Quixote". Another proponent of the alternate reality of crazy truth. 


The question is...should the crazy truth be encouraged? Are we just fooling ourselves? And if we are, is it a bad thing? I like to claim myself as a realist most of the time, except in my flights-of-fancy-creative-whack-out-moments. I do this, because a lot of the time it is helpful. Though I must confess, being a 100% realist is too much of an observist point of view and not taking an active role in defining our lives, but simply pacifying. There is something to being a "leaf in the wind", accepting the lack of control we have in our lives, but to murk up the waters further, I believe we need to take an active role in our acceptance. That is to say, it is a team effort. We are holding hands with fate, free will, truth, and crazy truth. Did y'all need to take a break and smoke some of that awesome medical marijuana before continuing to read this blog? On a side note, blogs are so damn one-sided. I'm sure many of you would have some highly emotional discourse on this. I'm sure we could figure out the universe and how to save the world in a few hours if it was late enough and we all have our favorite libation and munchy food at our sides.


I prefer a really good whiskey or magically laced brownie/cookie items, along with some kind of protein/dairy/fat/caffeinated/chocolaty/sugar goodness and lain into some comfy contraption that points me towards the heavens. We'll continue this and meet up around 3 a.m. okay?

Swing and a Miss! Or Vacuum Cleaners Unite! Or Ignore Him It Was The Cheerleaders

No....I'm not talking about a tree swing and Little Miss Muffet who sat on something eating curds. Nope. I'm talking about missing....you know...the opposite of hitting. Why all the accolades for hitting? I think there is some credit due to all the wild swings out there that people make every day. I say go out there and strike out! Swing away! Let loose all this conservative life stuff. Sure...you may miss, probably miss a lot. Maybe even every single time. Better than to get hit by the ball and walk to first base. Sure in baseball that's fine, but in life, that's an awful way to get around...even painful. Don't be afraid to strike out! I'll be there standing up and cheering for you! I'll do a one person wave. I'll hit the beach ball down to you. I'll buy you a beer and some cracker-jacks.


You think Reggie Jackson ever struck out? Hell yea he did. All the great hitters have. All the great artists, philosophers, do-gooders, world-shakers, world-changers have struck out. They got those hits by swinging and being unafraid to miss. Missing is as important as hitting. Maybe more, because you can learn a lot from a failure, and almost learn nothing from a success. So go out there and dare to suck! I've been sucking for years and plan to continue sucking until I can't suck no more. Get your head out of the gutter! Granted I have a huge deficit in my moral fiber, but you know what I'm laying down, so pick it up and start swinging!


You hear that? No...it's not a large vortex making a large sucking sound...it's the universe cheering.


Hmmmm...I'm way too positive today. I think it was the baton twirling scene from "A Face In the Crowd" I saw today...it got my juices flowing...

Digging In the Dirt...

All I do is not enough. Nice, normal people. What is exactly that? Proceed. Proceed Cady/Christopher/Atom. We never know what "will ruin everything". "Oh it's you! Hey you! You're the one that will ruin everything! Cool..."

Opposites. Diametrically opposed forces...and I'll agree with both. Take for instance the ideas of Ayn Rand and the idea of the individual, the creator...and conversely the idea of "to be of service" to others. I feel that I must be both at the same time. Maybe I just have a propensity for all encompassing mind-fucks. *laughing*

Maybe to better be of service to others you gotta get your own stuff worked out first. Hmmm...not first. That would mean we'd never do anything for others for 50 years or we walk into the desert for 40 days alone. We can do it whilst we're still under-construction. I have a lot more construction needed. A week in the stockade won't help me. "Yes...I did it. I touched your woo-woo..." We all have woo-woo's...and they all must be touched. We gotta eat, breath, squint when it's too bright. I am fucking with you. Really...I'm not. I'm both! This is the point.

I'm digging in my dirt and when that happens I might find almost anything. This isn't the usual nothing. There's nothing and then there's nothing and this isn't nothing because it is nothing! Damn it! I did it again! This is evidence for my banishment proceedings. Banish me. I've been bad...I will continue being bad and will continue being good and trying not to be a selfish asshole in this whoreld...this world.

I'm not gonna hit delete. Delete is for pussies.