Music is a universal language. Everyone has their own tastes, but deep down, we all respond to music. Truly it soothes the savage beast.
There are subtle patterns within good music, that help people acheive a desirable emotional state. The state of tranquility is on the table, today.
I have played "Skateaway" time and again, always amazed at how soothing it is. And I'm not alone. When I am at the gym, and "Skateaway" comes on, I can see other fellas mouthing the words.
The song itself is a feast for the imagination. The rollergirl is also listening to music, giving the listener a tantric experience. That is, they are able to step outside themselves for a moment, and view themself from the third person.
"She gets rock n roll, a rock and roll station,
and a rock n roll dream,
She's making movies, on location
She don't know what it means."
I like to close my eyes and imagine a lass on skates, whooshing around crowded streets, leaving a crowd of admiring onlookers in her wake. She has incredible grace, and breathtaking speed, and exists in a world all by herself.
The song makes me forget what it was that frightens me. I play the song repeatedly whilst flying, to smooth out the turbulence. And, when my feet are on terra firma, the tune takes the edge off worldly tribulations.
"No fears alone at night she's sailing through the crowd,
In her ears the phones are tight and the music's playing loud,"
The climax of the song takes me to an absolutely transcendant plane.
"She don't know what it means,
but the music make her wanna be the story,
and the story was whatever was the song what it was,
Rollergirl don't worry
D.J. play the movies all night long."
And with that effort, breathing out in synchronized patterns, fears subside.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Albanians
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1989, there was a bit of collateral effect. One tiny nation, Albania, had been run by the dictator Tito. His legacy: more than 3,000,000 dome-shaped concrete bunkers, in case of invasion by the West. Or, approximately one bunker for each man, woman and child of his nation.
I have had the distinct priviledge of knowing many people of Albanian descent. They are a very proud people. Of what, exactly, I have no idea.
Some may remember an incident in the mid 1990's. This impoverished nation was convulsed in a giant Ponzi scheme. Almost the entire population, simple-minded people who had been denied even a subsistence-level standard of living, completely fleeced by a few early entrants.
The lucky ones were already out of the country by then. Unfortunately for peace-loving individuals, everywhere. Albanian people whom I consider 'nice,' are pathological criminals. For example, when Samir emigrated to Holland, he told me how much he liked the people there. "You see, the people are very beautiful, and happy, and they all have nice wristwatches which are very easy to steal."
Intelligence is not a primary trait of these people. I would phrase their level of brightness, something like, 'clever.' That is to say, completely backward. If an Albanian person is found to be a homosexual, well, that person simply disappears. Tribal justice.
When the Albanian people crossed the Atlantic Ocean, they brought their peculiar sense of honor, here. One person marked for death had his sentence carried out by hook and by crook. This person was invited over to their 'friends' house, late at night. He was greeted with a bullet to the head. When the police arrived, they were told a perfectly plausible story.
The deceased had been breaking into the house, via an unlocked back door, the police were told. The homicide was actually an accident, a case of mistaken identity. The tale went something like, "You see, the house was dark, and I didn't know it was my best friend. I bought the gun on the street from a drug dealer, no, I don't know his name. I bought the gun for my personal safety, because sometimes I have to walk home alone after work, late at night." Case dismissed.
My life may very well be marked. One of these sub-humans enjoined my services as counter-person, at the restaurant Florencia's. The first night of work, I was told to go sweep, then sent home for no reason after ten minutes. The next night, I showed up on time, and put in a four-hour shift. I was told to show up the next day, same time.
Next day, when I arrived, my supervisor was not present. He left word that "he will call" when he needs me. In sixteen years of dealings, I am aware of one characteristic of Albanians: Once the mouth starts flapping, the only thing likely to fly out, is a bald-faced lie. I demanded my wages, and threatened to stay on the premises until I was paid.
That got him riled. He told me to come to his house, and he would pay me. Hah! Won't work on me! I told him to come down and pay me, in person, and he said he would, and ended the phone call with a vicious epithet. The one with Oedipal / Freudian implications.
When he arrived, he had a big, disingenuous smile on his face. He could barely contain his hostility, through his clenched teeth. I demanded my money, and an apology for the "m-fer" comment. He denied even making the slur! And then, he put his hand on my elbow, imploring me to join him in a darkened corner, so I could collect my 'pay.' I refused, calling him a liar, repeatedly jamming my index finger into the palm of my left hand. Dislocated the finger.
I phoned 531-2000, and requested a policeman. My personal safety was in grave danger. I ended up walking away with sixty bucks for three nights work (including the two nights I was instructed to show up, only to be subsequently turned away).
Sixty bucks is at least two hundred dollars short of what I was going for. I already put an entire week in, at the North Park store, under his very fair-minded brother. As a consequence, I am seeking redress through channels. Channels like the Labor Relations Board, to collect unpaid wages. I filed a complaint with Cal-OSHA (because there is no posting of minimum wage, or Worker's Comp, or MSDS info). And, I got one more round in the chamber. The Immigration and Naturalization Service. Why? Just sick of the drivers, who are all in this country illegally. They come here on a student visa, and never attend class. Unless their idea of higher education is shredding the waves all reefered up, and practicing their lethal form of martial arts.
I'll probably let that one go. Not a single driver has harmed me in a personal way. On the contrary, they are some of the most beautiful and good-natured people in the world. Nothing personal against any person of their particular origin.
This profile in racial unity and harmony begins and ends with (most) Albanians.
I have had the distinct priviledge of knowing many people of Albanian descent. They are a very proud people. Of what, exactly, I have no idea.
Some may remember an incident in the mid 1990's. This impoverished nation was convulsed in a giant Ponzi scheme. Almost the entire population, simple-minded people who had been denied even a subsistence-level standard of living, completely fleeced by a few early entrants.
The lucky ones were already out of the country by then. Unfortunately for peace-loving individuals, everywhere. Albanian people whom I consider 'nice,' are pathological criminals. For example, when Samir emigrated to Holland, he told me how much he liked the people there. "You see, the people are very beautiful, and happy, and they all have nice wristwatches which are very easy to steal."
Intelligence is not a primary trait of these people. I would phrase their level of brightness, something like, 'clever.' That is to say, completely backward. If an Albanian person is found to be a homosexual, well, that person simply disappears. Tribal justice.
When the Albanian people crossed the Atlantic Ocean, they brought their peculiar sense of honor, here. One person marked for death had his sentence carried out by hook and by crook. This person was invited over to their 'friends' house, late at night. He was greeted with a bullet to the head. When the police arrived, they were told a perfectly plausible story.
The deceased had been breaking into the house, via an unlocked back door, the police were told. The homicide was actually an accident, a case of mistaken identity. The tale went something like, "You see, the house was dark, and I didn't know it was my best friend. I bought the gun on the street from a drug dealer, no, I don't know his name. I bought the gun for my personal safety, because sometimes I have to walk home alone after work, late at night." Case dismissed.
My life may very well be marked. One of these sub-humans enjoined my services as counter-person, at the restaurant Florencia's. The first night of work, I was told to go sweep, then sent home for no reason after ten minutes. The next night, I showed up on time, and put in a four-hour shift. I was told to show up the next day, same time.
Next day, when I arrived, my supervisor was not present. He left word that "he will call" when he needs me. In sixteen years of dealings, I am aware of one characteristic of Albanians: Once the mouth starts flapping, the only thing likely to fly out, is a bald-faced lie. I demanded my wages, and threatened to stay on the premises until I was paid.
That got him riled. He told me to come to his house, and he would pay me. Hah! Won't work on me! I told him to come down and pay me, in person, and he said he would, and ended the phone call with a vicious epithet. The one with Oedipal / Freudian implications.
When he arrived, he had a big, disingenuous smile on his face. He could barely contain his hostility, through his clenched teeth. I demanded my money, and an apology for the "m-fer" comment. He denied even making the slur! And then, he put his hand on my elbow, imploring me to join him in a darkened corner, so I could collect my 'pay.' I refused, calling him a liar, repeatedly jamming my index finger into the palm of my left hand. Dislocated the finger.
I phoned 531-2000, and requested a policeman. My personal safety was in grave danger. I ended up walking away with sixty bucks for three nights work (including the two nights I was instructed to show up, only to be subsequently turned away).
Sixty bucks is at least two hundred dollars short of what I was going for. I already put an entire week in, at the North Park store, under his very fair-minded brother. As a consequence, I am seeking redress through channels. Channels like the Labor Relations Board, to collect unpaid wages. I filed a complaint with Cal-OSHA (because there is no posting of minimum wage, or Worker's Comp, or MSDS info). And, I got one more round in the chamber. The Immigration and Naturalization Service. Why? Just sick of the drivers, who are all in this country illegally. They come here on a student visa, and never attend class. Unless their idea of higher education is shredding the waves all reefered up, and practicing their lethal form of martial arts.
I'll probably let that one go. Not a single driver has harmed me in a personal way. On the contrary, they are some of the most beautiful and good-natured people in the world. Nothing personal against any person of their particular origin.
This profile in racial unity and harmony begins and ends with (most) Albanians.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The Core Belief
Each and every rational human being has both a conscious mind, and a subconscious mind. Our subconscious mind is influenced at an early age, by teachers, peers, and parents.
For example, one supervisor I worked under, once commented, "You are damaged goods." This was a well-meaning and light-hearted statement, in his point of view. I received the words and deeply internalized them. I believed and still do, that light-hearted sarcasm was just his style.
I have always been a tremendously empathic individual. Some people may even consider me a bit too sensitive. I am the type individual always who felt an emotional response to simple, derivative telephone company advertisements.
While being a new-age, sensitive guy may be my personal style, it is very conducive to effecting changes in the core belief. I could hear an off-hand, careless comment, and internalize it, to the point of self-detriment. Why? Because my real self is buried somewhere very deep within my subconscious.
My real self is very closely aligned with my first name. When I was born, my mother told my father, "We finally have our Matthew." My name translates into the phrase, 'gift from God.' When I am at my un-selfconscious best, I truly give unconditionally, and seek to validate the nature and potential of all living things.
I am the first son of an Earth Mother. Born into a family with a powerful father and two generous sisters. For years, no doubt, I ruled the household. Somewhere along the way, my feelings of safety and trust became undermined by challenges to my core belief.
Such challenges to my core belief caused years of conflict within my soul, feeding anger, and fear, and resentment. Every perceived slight was filtered through a prism of self-doubt. Even the driver ahead of me who failed to use their turn signal, was perceived as being personally against me, in some metaphysical way.
I believe that most, if not all, physical disorders, originate with some deep conflict in a person's core belief. I met a wonderful woman, a gifted psychologist, who was generous enough to share her 'core disbelief' with me. I couldn't fathom why a beautiful, ultra-talented female, who turned me on and excited me like no other, would consider herself "not good enough."
Yet there is was, everytime she suffered a minor annoyance. The 'core disbelief' controls all our conscious thoughts, and hence, behaviour. After she shared with me this deep-seated lack of faith in herself, it was a very short path to understanding my own, 'core disbelief.'
I believe that my 'core disbelief' is something like, 'wow, that's disappointing.' I imagined myself as a five-year old boy, whose father decided to leave the household, and tried to understand how that boy felt. Other than confused and betrayed, that is.
As an informal healing process, I seek spiritual re-birth. I practice forgiveness, as a firm principle. I forgive people much more readily, in a very light hearted way. My current style is a quick, sincere apology, as if someone had accidentally broken one of the Absent-Minded Professor's pencils. "No problem, I really didn't notice."
The re-birth and re-creation of a person's spirit is totally dependent on forgiveness, and complete gratitude. I consciously say grace over my food, and drink, and attempt to consecrate every aspect of my life. There is no other way to accomplish spiritual re-foundation.
For example, one supervisor I worked under, once commented, "You are damaged goods." This was a well-meaning and light-hearted statement, in his point of view. I received the words and deeply internalized them. I believed and still do, that light-hearted sarcasm was just his style.
I have always been a tremendously empathic individual. Some people may even consider me a bit too sensitive. I am the type individual always who felt an emotional response to simple, derivative telephone company advertisements.
While being a new-age, sensitive guy may be my personal style, it is very conducive to effecting changes in the core belief. I could hear an off-hand, careless comment, and internalize it, to the point of self-detriment. Why? Because my real self is buried somewhere very deep within my subconscious.
My real self is very closely aligned with my first name. When I was born, my mother told my father, "We finally have our Matthew." My name translates into the phrase, 'gift from God.' When I am at my un-selfconscious best, I truly give unconditionally, and seek to validate the nature and potential of all living things.
I am the first son of an Earth Mother. Born into a family with a powerful father and two generous sisters. For years, no doubt, I ruled the household. Somewhere along the way, my feelings of safety and trust became undermined by challenges to my core belief.
Such challenges to my core belief caused years of conflict within my soul, feeding anger, and fear, and resentment. Every perceived slight was filtered through a prism of self-doubt. Even the driver ahead of me who failed to use their turn signal, was perceived as being personally against me, in some metaphysical way.
I believe that most, if not all, physical disorders, originate with some deep conflict in a person's core belief. I met a wonderful woman, a gifted psychologist, who was generous enough to share her 'core disbelief' with me. I couldn't fathom why a beautiful, ultra-talented female, who turned me on and excited me like no other, would consider herself "not good enough."
Yet there is was, everytime she suffered a minor annoyance. The 'core disbelief' controls all our conscious thoughts, and hence, behaviour. After she shared with me this deep-seated lack of faith in herself, it was a very short path to understanding my own, 'core disbelief.'
I believe that my 'core disbelief' is something like, 'wow, that's disappointing.' I imagined myself as a five-year old boy, whose father decided to leave the household, and tried to understand how that boy felt. Other than confused and betrayed, that is.
As an informal healing process, I seek spiritual re-birth. I practice forgiveness, as a firm principle. I forgive people much more readily, in a very light hearted way. My current style is a quick, sincere apology, as if someone had accidentally broken one of the Absent-Minded Professor's pencils. "No problem, I really didn't notice."
The re-birth and re-creation of a person's spirit is totally dependent on forgiveness, and complete gratitude. I consciously say grace over my food, and drink, and attempt to consecrate every aspect of my life. There is no other way to accomplish spiritual re-foundation.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Victory, Tempered
The lamb lay down on Broadway. Cost me another parking ticket. And, any chance at finding a decent job for ninety days. Having a TRO is as good as having an arrest warrant. Until it goes away, there it is.
Having prayed for sense and reason, the pacific form of a presiding judge. Her honor enjoined the plaintiff's complaint, delivered with the empty bravado of brilliantly acted restrained hysteria.
My mouth gaped open, upon hearing the verdict. Ninety days extension of the restraint. I wasn't going to fight it, no way. I meekly asked if I might object. What I was trying to communicate, probably, was, HmmmMM, now, there's an outcome I wasn't anticipating! Oh well! You got me!
As long as I'm out, enjoying the sunshine, then, I am a free man. Vindication can wait.
Having prayed for sense and reason, the pacific form of a presiding judge. Her honor enjoined the plaintiff's complaint, delivered with the empty bravado of brilliantly acted restrained hysteria.
My mouth gaped open, upon hearing the verdict. Ninety days extension of the restraint. I wasn't going to fight it, no way. I meekly asked if I might object. What I was trying to communicate, probably, was, HmmmMM, now, there's an outcome I wasn't anticipating! Oh well! You got me!
As long as I'm out, enjoying the sunshine, then, I am a free man. Vindication can wait.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Ciento, La Novelita
Para recuerdo, la pipa de hoy.
Un Breakfast Jack, son las ocho. Me servir, el hijo famoso, Dante.
Hace three days, asked him, boyishly, sly; bravo! tu nombre! Have read the inferno, tragedy (fr), Divine Comedy.
He's so cute, like, small, yet with huge charisma. Eyes that twinkle, and that sashay. And, I ain't even gay.
Earnestly, my lemons. Always the vat of iced tea, for me.
Today's order, fell upon an empty tea-pot, and, dream-like, he filled it. I wonder, but not wait.
Un Breakfast Jack, son las ocho. Me servir, el hijo famoso, Dante.
Hace three days, asked him, boyishly, sly; bravo! tu nombre! Have read the inferno, tragedy (fr), Divine Comedy.
He's so cute, like, small, yet with huge charisma. Eyes that twinkle, and that sashay. And, I ain't even gay.
Earnestly, my lemons. Always the vat of iced tea, for me.
Today's order, fell upon an empty tea-pot, and, dream-like, he filled it. I wonder, but not wait.
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