happy new year friends

To all my friends...

birthday post (get while the gettin's good)

Thank you Jon, Russ, Randall and Steve for the fantastic birthday day and dinner. I really appreciate it, more than I would ever try to express.
I was trying to lead up to this somehow, but I don't have much else. I know what is wrong with me, but I don't. I know I am aged, divorced and have a child. I can see how that can be scary and different than other situations. Fine. But, I am aged and learned, which means I am not doomed to fuck up as much as I used to (aka learn from the many, many mistakes I have made). I am divorced, so fucking what? Who hasn't had a breakup? At least we are cool and still care a great deal for one another and so forth. That is more than I can say for so many of the other break up's I have experienced. I have a child. This is the one that I can see could be troubling. This is the greatest responsibility anyone can take. I took it willingly and wantingly (not a word, birthday poetic license). I am not asking anyone to share the weight, but I can see the other side. Not asking in this situation doesn't mean much. If you hang with me, you are hanging with Eva period. I guess that is asking in a fashion. Ok, those are immutable, everything else is negotiable.
Wow, what a day. I had another great one on the slopes, heard from friends near and far, and had a fantastic dinner. I am now being called down to rejoin the (my?) party. What does the below quote have at all to do with the post? You tell me.

if one going down into a river,
swollen and swiftly flowing,
is carried away by the current --
how can one help others across?

nonsense

Ok, who knows what the fuck is coming off the fingers now.  I know this:  I was in the snow today.  I am in tahoe city.  I am at the bad mother hucker chalet.  What else do I know?  Not very much.  I know that being goofy and in the middle on lifts is not the best.  How many sentences can I start with "I".  You count pleaes and get back to me.  Well, hasn't bloging taken the essence of what Jack Kerouac was trying to acheive and perverted it completely and truely?  Case in point:  ME.  Your friendly neighborhood phony wannabe writer.  Better luck next time, ya?

festivus

My father visited me in my sleep last night for the 3rd time since his death nearly 13 years ago.  Those of you who dismiss this statement outright, click away NOW,
Everyone else:
The first time it happened was about 2 years after his death.  He chase me through many dreamscapes, desperately trying to get my attention.  I was keenly aware of presence but would not acknowledge it.  Finally, as morning crept in, he was able to catch up to me enough to grab me by the arm and pull me to face him.  He said only one thing:  This is not a dream, it is really me.
And I awoke.
The second time was just as things were all falling apart at home less than 2 years ago.  Even though it had been 8 or so years since his last visit, I have never forgotten it even in my sleep and was quite receptive to his presence.  This time I was ready for a message and he knew it.  My dad was not a touchy feely man, almost never prone to sentiment and certainly not one to paint a rosy picture.  This time the message was a direction; a dose of clairatly.  He said to me:  You need to be a better person, you need to try harder.
And I awoke.
The third time was last night, Christmas eve of all nights.  I was having particularly vivid dreams last night.  Dreams of hope and love.  Dreams of peace and prosperity, not for me, but for all.  This time was very similar to the first visit with juxtaposition.  I knew he was there the whole time.  I continued to try to make time in my dream to speak with him, but got distracted.  Not in a this is more important than that distracted.  Dream priority distracted.  I think this was part of the point of the message.  It wasn't yet time to deliver it.  There were things to observe prior.  There were worlds to explore.  This time the message was a question; a message of inspiration and beauty.  He said to me:  Do you still dream?
And I awoke.

Yes, I do.  Thanks Dad for the visit.
Thanks for reading friends.
Come dream with me!

licking rocks

I have a fragile psyche.  By this I mean that my sense of self is ever changing, turning.  I had a dream when I was a child of about 11 that I was riding a dirt bike around an oval.  I was racing and jumping, around and around.  My parents were in the stands, but they weren't rooting or cheering.  They were asking me a series of rather odd questions.  What are you doing?  Why are you here?  As it turned out, I was sleepwalking and had wondered into my parents room.
The track is my psyche, my parents reality, and the bike is my ride through this mess.  On occasion, I wonder into reality and deconstruct.  I do not find this to be positive or negative.  Today, I had an eruption of reality.  Some of my self died today as every day and some new came to life.  It was just more painful than usual.  I took action and am moving on.  What else would I do with myself if I wasn't doing this all the time? 
Yea I used some of this earlier today.  If you heard it before, consider yourself lucky.  A comedian only practices his jokes to his most trusted friends.

today

things got pretty sour

Here i was, Friday afternoon before the holiday.  I have been working all week even though I was supposed to be on vacation beginning since Wednesday.  That never happens anyway, no surprise.  Anyone looking for coherency, turn away now, scrambled eggs is all you will find here. 
I had a client for Monday that was already leaning to the pleasant side with me.  That should have been a fairly simple day.
That would have left plenty of time for the other tasks on the list:

• pick up board from shop
• go to storage and grab some vinyl
• pack container for cabin
• go to gym
• hang with eva

You know, life.  The stuff I am not able to do most of the time.
I then had a pretty cool day planned for Tuesday.  I had a client set up in SF which personally assisted in the sale of more of my time (a first for me).  I had lunch plans with a couple of friends who are heading back home that day.  The it was back to vinyasa.  Let me tell ya, this shit is rad.  I have been saying for about two years that I just haven't found any workout that gives me the workout I require besides the running, until now. 
Well, all that came to a halt right in the middle of a short errand run.  I had been told over and over this week:  There is no way you are going to Wisconsin.  Well, guess what?  I'm going to Wisconsin.  Yep, I have a 12:30 flight headed straight into the midwest.  My only hope now?  The weather is too bad for the plane to depart.  This is a dangerous wish.  The same wish can get me stuck there for a week.  What are you gonna do?
Move on, that's what.  I am amazed at the focusing power of sudden change.  I am also thankful for all the kind thoughts.  Even the travel agent assured me that there would be no way I was actually flying out on Sunday.  One particularly generous friend even went so far as to guarantee as much and confirm our plans.  I really, really hope this is right, but I am not holding my breath.  Of course, none of us truly knows the future.  Well, not me anyway. 

teammates

This is what we all are.  Teammates.  At work, home and on the road.  Teammates back you up and you do the same for them.  That is the point isn't it?  I have been thinking quite a bit about my teammates today.  In the office I had a someone come up big for me today.  I was on the hook for something that I had no way of fixing and no way to control.  I was charged with traveling on Sunday to Wisconsin in order to clearly document our lack of responsibility.  I and others have been able to prove this 5 separate times and corroborate our results.  For a reason that I know but never understand, the customer is completely unwilling to accept responsibility for this issue.  This is a very old story among a certain type of customer.  Well everything worked ok before you got here so this cannot be our fault and must be yours.  Never mind, you have nothing else like what we do in your environment and have never tried this sort of thing before, not your fault.  Of course.  But I digress (just kidding, I am always digressing).  My teammate came up big for me on this and extricated me.  I am extremely grateful for this.  Now I don't have to yell out in the immortal words of Cheap Trick "Hello Wisconsin" on Sunday night!
I also came up big on a new team today at work.  I was able to sell my own services and extra product to a client that is local.  I worked with a channel that I usually don't work with in order to complete this process.  The ink isn't down but I believe this will happen.  And that is work.  It is very clear who your teammates are and how to be a good one at work.
Now, what makes a good teammate in the social world?  Don't ask me, man; I don't know.  I do know this:  I am a good one and have a bunch of good ones too.  You know who you are.  Thanks teammates!

relentless

Oh, do I have character flaws.  What I wouldn't give to be Billy Budd right now.  His was kinda big, but at least it was just one.  Yea, he was a character not a person, don't get technical.  This one, I had always thought of as a positive.  There is no such thing as always, you know.  Only moments.  Right, back to the subject.  Relentless is my name, and I am sticking to it.  I mean cheese on bread, toasted and buttered, I am not perfect and will not ever be.  I can and will do my best.  But consciousness is a bitch, ey.  I know this is just a thing that I do not a thing that I am.  That means that I now have to curb my enthusiasm.  I have to try and control myself in another way.  I have a new task.
Ok, task accepted, now what?  Seriously.  It seems that the more I learn, the less possible it all seems.  No one said it would be easy or fun.  My brain is wild and uncontrolled, but also open.  I am willing to learn and try.
I am writing just to write right now and do not think that is the direction I want to go.  I am writing to ease some steam.  Not such a bad thing.  tiring, relenting.

smiles, everyone, smiles

This is a hard time of year for many of us.  We are rushed and forced all over the place.  Pressured and prodded, pushed and bullied.  The other way to describe it is Christmas in America.  Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. And we will teach you how to spend every last cent of discretionary income on useless items.  We will pressure you from late August right up to the end and even after the holiday; we just call it a season now.  I don't have all that much to say about this besides I have been fortunate enough to avoid this disgust for the last two years and have been reaping the peace.  I am not about to tell you don't consume.  Just don't expect me to, at least not right now. 
To be honest, this confuses me a bit (what doesn't?).  I love to consume.  I am not attached to stuff (sure) but I like stuff.  I like looking at stuff, using stuff, eating stuff.  I guess what I don't like about this whole thing is the idea that I am forced to buy something, anything for everybody that I care about and even some that I don't due to social pressures.  that is where my issue resides.  Fuck what do I know what makes people happy.

barber shop psychology

so, I wanted to get a haircut today at lunch.  Where does a guy with my hair style go to get his hair cut?  Barber.  I google mapped up the closest barber to the office where I was working.  Makes sense, right?  Did to me anyway.  Place looked like a barber shop on the outside (had a barber poll) and I didn't notice much else about it.  I guess it just looked like a regular barber shop.  It isn't like there are tons of these around anymore and that is partly why I seek them out.  So, I walk in.

Oh, this isn't a barber shop, this is the barber shop.  You know the one.  I think it was in at least 2 Eddie Murphy movies and countless others.  Well, I opened the door, I was going to go in.  In fact, seemed kinda cool to me.  For those of you who do not frequent barber shops, the custom is to sit and wait your turn, they will get to you when they get to you.  So that is what I did.  I am not blind, there were 7 of us in the place and I was the only white man.  Most were younger then me and dressed as such.  It was cold and snowing out so timberland boots, down jackets and beanies were what I would have expected anyone to be wearing.  I had a book on my for the wait and started to read it but soon began eavesdropping and observing instead.  At least one of the customers had just finished college and one more was well on his way.  The conversations were free flowing and sing song but muted.

Then the old timer walked in and court was in session.  He proceeded to sit in the middle barber chair and set in on every single individual.  Everyone knew everyone else in there (besides me).  This was when I was granted permission to participate.  After a few muted chuckles at his boisterous descriptions he turned to me and asked:  you arabian or somethin'? or just a plain old white boy?  Plain old white boy here.  Well, you must not be around here, because around here plain old white boys don't come around here.  yea, from california.  Well around here, we don't mix.  Where was this going?  I suppose it was up to me, and it was.  I simpy said where I am from people's people. (yea I got in the spirit a little bit, so what?)

From there I realized that they were freaked out in a way that I had intruded into their sanctuary.  They all had to fit into the white world outside those doors, but in there they didn't have to be anything or anyone.  Once I joined the sentiment it was on.  I was a full participant in the barber shop banter until my cut was done.  Also, while I was getting cut, my barber was asking me computer questions very softly, so no one else could hear what he was asking about.  He knew quite a bit and was totally on it

I got to tell ya, that 2 hours I spent there made my week.  Before, I had been slaving tirelessly all week, not working less than 15 hours any day.

Once the door is open, don't hesistate, walk in.  You never know what you are going to find.

fridays to a business traveler

TGIF my ass.  Fridays are the worst day of the week for a guy like me.  I have to get to my client early (7am est today) and leave late, catch a plane back to the west coast just in time to arrive before Saturday starts.  I mean, what is at all good about a 21 hour work day?  The end, that is what.  Oh right, I have been gone all week and may want to catch up with my friends and family or something of that nature.  Good luck with that.  I woke up at 3am est today due to some glitch in the system.  That means that by the time I get home, I will have been up for 24 hours.  I am not saying that this will make me go to bed.  No, something much worse happens.  I tough it out and go somewhere.  This never ends well, unless you think Josh making an ass of himself again is well.  Tonight is no different.  I would like to catch up with a friend in SF tonight.  Oh you have an idea for me; why not catch a nap on the plane.  Um, have you been on a plane lately?  I am not complaining, I have no problem flying, just not a place that you can really catch a good sleep.

Motion detecting bathrooms:  All in all this is a good idea.  I have seen all kinds of craziness in bathrooms for the sake of automation and sanitation, all with varying degrees of success.  I have seen my kid on several occasions look at a toilet in a restaurant that is not automatic with perplexity in her eyes, like what are you waiting for, I'm done, go for it.  This, I think, also causes her to forget to flush at home once in a while (another story all together).  The shop I am in this week has an over-active soap dispenser.  this means I have to maneuver my hand around the damn thing just to rinse the soap off; all the while the damn dispenser continues to spit it's load at me.  This is clearly not serving it's purpose.  No one notices or cares, I guess.

Whatever.  I had a bit of time to kill, so I figured, why not you too.

Just to be clear, don't ever feel sympathy for me regarding these musings.  I write them to entertain, pure and simple.  I am not in any way discontented by this setup.  If I was, I would change it, guaranteed. 

Note to self:  knock it off with all the disclaimers.  If you are going to put it out there, you cannot control how it is received.  Don't try.  The trying in and of itself is debilitating and counterproductive.

my clone wears a brown shirt

He doesn't read this and neither should you.

Listen up friends, or don't.  Advice is the worst advice you can get.  Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate it.  I know it all comes from a place of love but it just served to confuse me.  Also, I know I asked.  That is probably precisely the point.  If I had more confidence in my instincts, i wouldn't have to ask.  I would just do.  Thanks anyway, really this is all my fault.

Self fulfilling prophecies, are they real?  This discussion can go in many directions.  I will choose one (or two) not sure yet.  Look for a reason to succeed and you will succeed.  Look for a reason to fail, guess what?  I was telling my dear friend the other day regarding work:  You start looking for a job, and you have already said goodbye to the one you have now.  Maybe that is narrow.  I feel that once you have decided that your situation is bad enough to look for a new one, the old one has ended.  I would spell it out for you but I am not in the mood.  You go after something you want or think you want (what is the difference there?).  You think you are being positive, cool, whatever.  There is something in the back of your head.  You know, that thing that says:  um dude, you aren't smart enough, you are bald, fat, old, mentally ill, damaged, uneducated, etc.  You know deficient.  You say to yourself that you aren't listening to that voice, you are bigger than that; but you hear it just fine.  Right there you are fucked, right?  the grave has been dug and it is just waiting for you to fall into it.

Ah, but wait.  There is one weapon against this.  Awareness.  Recognition.  This is how you say FUCK YOU! to that fucking asshole who happens to reside inside your head.  FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.  I am not listening this time.  I am not succeeding or failing, I am living.  And I am doing the best I can, so you can keep your shit ass opinions to yourself.

This is what I have chosen. no more advice, no bull shit self fulfilling prophecies, just me doing what I do.  And doing a pretty fucking good job at it.  I know I should watch my mouth but I am fucking pissed, deal or leave.

PEACE yo, to you and me.

When things become manifest
To the ardent meditating brahmin,
All one's doubts then vanish since one understands
Each thing along with its cause.

Special shout out to Marc.  Sorry for what is going on with you.  But I am most sorry that I have been so self centered to not have noticed.  I am thankful to have you as a friend and that you are who you are.  Hang tough, you rule and you will pull through.

bits and pieces

well, I don't have a full idea today, but I have some partials.  First thing, I wanted to talk about the passive listening system employed by most men; especially married men.  The way this works is kinda like tivo.  Your significant other, boss, et al is yapping at ya about how you didn't finish your chores, work, prayers and you are watching the game, star trek, playing video games.  Then the inevitable happens.  The:  Are you listiening to me?  Yes.  Well, what did I just say?  Bingo, this is where the passive system comes in handy.  You are able to repeat pretty much verbatum even thougth your consciesness was barely aware there was anyone there.  This tecnique is somewhat secretive, so if you women plan on asking about this, you will be flatly dismissed, as far as you are concerned, we are listening with bated breath.  This is a time honored tradition passed on from gristly old veterans to young nuptial bucks over beer and bbq, subtly and gradually.  I remember the day I was imparted this wisdom for the first time.  I was waiting in the car with my dad for my mom to finish up her 45 minute goodbyes.  That was when he gave me my first clue as to what the PLS (passive listening system) was all about and how to use it.  Go forward, listen, passivly!

I know its strange another way to get to know you
you'll never know unless we go so let me show you
i know its strange another way to get to know you
we've got till noon here comes the moon
so let it show you
show you now

dinners

I have been having fits and starts lately here without any fruit. I have had 3 unpublished posts this week. I think I have gotten a grip on what is going on. I have so much to say but find it daunting to release it. Because of this, I am not moving forward with the rest. As of now, I am putting the other aside and moving forward with another avenue of thoughts.
Dinners:
I had 3 magnificent dinners this week!
Monday, a friend and I went to a very nice establishment in San Francisco. Thanks much to Ms. Guido for her fine suggestion. The food was terrific and all, but I didn't eat much. Rather I enjoyed 3 hours of fantastic exploratory surgery.
Wednesday, Hollywood baby. I, and my three dates (yea, that's right, three) went to a fabulous hollywood shi shi sushi place. Paparazzi were stationed outside and celebs in. We saw a Mr. Zack Braff. One of my dates left me to chase him into the bathroom, just for a looksee. I wish I had remembered that my bro's wife went to college with him and I had already been told if I ran into him to say hello because they used to hang. Oh well, next time.
Friday, dinner with my daughter at the homestead. Yea, that doesn't sound nearly as glamourous or exciting as the other two, but it was indeed just as special. I miss that little one when I am out of town. I especially did this week following the terrific week of travel we had the week prior.
All for now. Just checking in.

Those who mistake the unessential to be essential
and the essential to be unessential,
dwelling in wrong thoughts,
never arrive at the essential.