Porto Alegre

Had a quick trip to Porto Alegre for the opening of The Ronaldinho Gaucho Insitute. Pretty impressive place. Got to spend a few days filming. definitely a country rich with color and engery.

Video: My Life As A Blog

For the past couple years i've been shooting lots of video. just recently have i sat down and started to see what i have...below is my first attempt at putting it together. my edit skills are very amateur, and this was thrown together...but its a start:

Wherever you are...there you are.

i got on a plane Sunday @ 1pm in Portland. next thing i knew it was Monday in Barcelona. and now its Tuesday. woke up at 2AM over here and haven't been able to get back to sleep. been reading. thinking.

definitely not happy with how i've been living. this book that Forest gave me has brought that to my immediate attention. though i've felt it. and i'm sure anyone who knows me feels it.

change isn't easy. and from reading the me from before this isn't something new. so the question becomes what will i do about it. how will i alleviate this consistent malaise that seems to haunt my conciousness. it wont be easy. i've been trained in a way of being for 30 years now. i've definitely had glimpses at other ways of doing things. periods of time when i was able to elevate for brief moments to a higher plane. sustaining this. really living in this. thats the goal. when i think about it, i really don't have another option. if i don't, i will never find the place or people or life i see. feel.

so shout out to FP for the kick start.

Not A Damn Thing

tick. tick. tick. tick. tick.
its the sound of my brain searchin for meanin.
passin time by dreamin.
passin thoughts with cigarettes and sugar
not to mention caffeine.
crisp air and icy drops surround.
winter is coming.
winter is here.
addiction. never thought it would be me.
spare tires and second chins.
never thought it would be me.
alone. in debt. losing hope.
never thought it would be me.
i never thought about being 27.
i never thougth about being an adult.
i never imagined that life would lead me here.
if you only watch each step you lose sight of the road
if you lose the road you know not the destination
but they say its the journey
until you run out of food
out of energy
out of a place to sleep.
maybe its emptiness i'm swallowing.
maybe tis truth thats come to my throat.
i play ball to escape.
eat food for the pleasure burst.
curl up under covers and drift.
those few moments before rising are the best
when all you love is being able to stay in bed.
then off to work. quick shower. some bread and cheese.
emails and google searches. coordination.
thoughts wasted.
pasted.
i'd sniff glue now for a buzz.
read about the peole who make it.
had it.
got it.
found it.
divided by the rest.
we follow.
sand was once rock.
i was once solid.
kissing
that brings joy.
conexion
or is it just lust.
trust in no one b/c i don't trust myself.
know no one b/c i donn't know myself
love no one b/c i don't love myself
dreamz.
alwayz back to dreams.
uncionsous consiousness
idenity is selling to one self that you are a certain way
so many choices that making one is random
like spinning a wheel.
boom. you win conseravative yet coy.
almost stopped on saucy and sassy
and you got lucky you missed boring, and allergic.
whew.
actors become rich for being everyone
cublice workers become suicidal for being no one.
i get tired of being myself.
angry at everyone for letttin me exist.
drama at least is energy
energy at least is eventful
apahty is the AIDS of my generation
skepticisim is the button we all wear.
disgust in oursleves bleeds to tomorrows kidz.
tap dancing is now the c-walk
a gang affiliated statement that I"m HERE.
ballet has moved to break dancing
church choir is the corner cipher
parking in the chevy is now exctacy in the club bathroom
cigarettes in the the sleeve is a bleezy behind the ear
hip hop is everywhere like anti-war in yesteryears
not really motivated by a topic or belief
but following a creed or a reason
a raison d'etre.
we all need one.
have none.
wish we could be someone.
who we aren't.
lying is an evolutionary strategy.
strategic communciation.
truth isn't even real.
we wouldn't know it if we bled it.
blood is blue, but oxygern immediately disguises it
so much that its red in our minds
and hearts.
you have such a gift for writing.
you are so talented
i love what you have to say
you love nothing but yourself
the image of yourself.
or maybe to be loved in return
you love the relexivity of love
like you love being recognized more than the ensuing conversation
drinks taste better if you feel like its your Cheers
television is soma
we want so bad to feel nothing
to become the pictures on the screen
inertia is applicable to the human spirit
death is perhaps only something we imagine
i hate the word perhaps
hope is pathetic
being hated is better than un-noticed
is laughter really formulaic?
perhaps
slang defines whats in
break rules to rule
follow fools to be tooled
shape reality with decisive direction from the inner soul
jargon
propoganda
media is the most effective weapon to exist
we ban the bomb and proliferate the real killer
spreading this disease as we invade
cultures become annhilialted with each new satellite
call center
mobile phones are evil
and i'm the devil
of self contradiction
pictures in my mind evaporate with each look in the mirror
becoming tomorrows vicitm with each slide of my atm card
its a choice
all to evoid pain.
dis-comfort
truth.
drums please.
cymbal to punctuate.
bass kicks up.
soft piano melody
and then a whiney nasal plea for help.
is that what this is.
perhaps.
snap. snap. snap. snap.
bob the head.
shake the shoulders like you wit it
now close your eyes.
pause.
what do you see?


not a damn thing.

*written sometime in the winter of 2003 in CT

Can I Kick It?

I kick it. I swerve it. I create my life with verbs man.
The beat of bass. The strum of drums. The pound of hearts. The pulse of life.
Energy is everthing and everything is energy. I have a vision see. That s beyond currency.
I look around roomz. I listen to others wordz. I feel a difference between me and the heardz.
Sometimes I feel cursed. Most often I feel worse.
Fear is the compass guiding hearts and heads.
Magnetized by longing for acceptance
Thus rejecting ones true essence
Confessions in quite nights and soulful hours of darkness
Sparkles of truth twinkle in midnight rumblings.
MTV becomes the soma for solace
Quelling pain with vicarious injections of lives that aren’t real
Reels and reels and reels manipulated to create real
From terminator to governor
Our world is one giant media pearl
Wizards of ozzie
Are born and birthed.
Bred and fed.
Raised and praised.
Fleeced then slaughtered.
But first buttered and cottled.
To maximize the beef they provide.
I sigh.
Deep breathe. Enters my brain.
Toxins. Of course.
Do I know the difference. Do I care. Do I exist tomorrow?
Or borrow another day another name another plane.
What of wayz beyond this day and age.
If you speak futuristically you are called a freak.
If you wallow historically you become out of date.
If you become the moment, you can’t exist as normal.
Become an Alien
“an alien is just being yourself, when people don’t understand you”
green heads and webbed fingers.
Muted eyes. And scaley skin.
Giant heads. And radioactive dreads.
Is how I feel when I listen to the world news
My views are mine. Seen only in my minds eye.
I try to communicate with verbs .
But feel more connected by the moves of birds.
Swoopz and glides. They exist outside the conceptual I.
Do I.
Sometimes. When I write.
I become a kite. On the string of my own beat.
Lead only by the wind.
Contained only by my vision.
Exorcism of hate. Emancipation of peoples bate.
Soaring in the music. Bouncing in the possible.
Rhetorical demonstratives leave me feelin monster like
I wonder and wander through past, present and future
I try to make cents into sense
And end up on a fence.
Which way to go.
Forward. Progress of course.
Is off course.
Says who?
The man behind the man behind the MAN.
Is a woman.
And she sits in nakedness, looking into a pool of possibility.
Her reflection dances In her eyes.
A superimposition of the universe.
In a single verse.
Whats worse?
Makinge sense or making cents?
I make amends.
With my own conscience
By writing sans thinking.
To find the inkling
Of me.
See?
Saw?
Can I kick it?

*Written sometime around winter of 2003 while living in Wilton, CT

The Past Is Still With Us

I remember using this quote on a paper i wrote in Anthro class. It was about how our biological makeup through the proces of evolution has a major influence on who and what we are.

"The past is still with us, in fact, its not even the past"

While i have been bloggin as a part of my job or career, i have yet to really do anything personal. Though i have been writing at a semi steady pace since college...so before i start fresh i wanted to use this forum to display of some of my past...and really after reading it myself i realized..it really isn't the past. its me ;).

so the next few entries are a trip back.