Journal 017

Last night was kind of damp, and it was raining off and on towards the morning. I remember lying in bed, thinking to myself it'll snow again before it starts to really get warm - it always does. Well, I wasn't anticipating it so soon, but I woke up today to yet another fresh layer of snowfall. I'm sure this won't be the last snowfall of the season, though I am already anticipating the soothing showers of spring.

It's surprising that Easter is so early this year - right on the tail of the vernal equinox. But it's convenient that it would decide to ride on the heel of the pagan festival of Ostara (or Eostar) - the celebration of said equinox. Still, I'm used to it being sometime in April, so this is a little unusual. And then St. Patrick's Day is like a week before Easter, which is ridiculous. Can't these people spread their holidays out a bit better? In general pagan observance, there are 8 significant celebratory dates spread fairly evenly throughout the year. Well, the only reason I'm complaining is that I have ideas for my music log to honor the various holidays, and *way* too many holy-themed songs to play before Easter.

And March is also a busy month for birthdays in this immediate family, involving both of my brothers' birthdays as well as my mother's birthday. Second only to the late January, early February stretch which holds my birthday, my dad's birthday, and, I believe, also my grandmother and uncle's birthdays. Anyhow, I hate the whole thing about gift-giving. Doing something nice for a person you care about is one thing, but being obligated to purchase some commercial commodity for a specific day, or face the risk of being ridiculed or even victimized, is another thing entirely. I mean, going out and celebrating is nice - you spend time with the people you care about, and that's the most important gift, right? I don't believe in cards either, though. It just seems such a phony way of showing appreciation. Here's a cheap item you're just gonna throw away after looking at, with artwork I didn't draw, and some nice words I didn't write, but it's the thought that counts, right? At any rate, my one brother just spent $400 on CD's - and he's trying to pursue an ascetic lifestyle, and my other brother has enough money to buy anything he could want that I would ever think of buying him, and I don't even know him that well anymore, and the interests he does have I'm clueless about - sports, mainly. So to me, it just seems kind of pointless. And yet, the pressure to perform remains. They both got me something for my birthday, so it'd be tantamount to a slap in the face if I didn't reciprocate.

Today's episode of Millenium (for me, anyway) was good. I think I'm more than halfway through the second season now. I was lamenting the fact that Frank's wife Catherine isn't in it as much now that they've split up after the events of the first season cliffhanger. She really is a good character. Not as good as Frank Black, of course, but still good, just what you would expect from the woman that would marry Frank. Although, their relations have been pretty frustrating, since they seem to be drifting apart for the wrong reasons. The Millenium Group itself is proving to become more interesting as the series continues on. Still lots of mystery there. I was excited about this episode, because for once there was some real tension developing between Frank and the group, and at this point, although for the whole time the group has been portrayed as the good side, I'm wondering if there's maybe something more sinister going on underneath it all than what one might expect. The episode itself was a rather interesting "Into The Wild"-ish story, about a kid who, before entering college, entered instead into the Alaskan wilderness to find a much more fulfilling life. I'm really enjoying this series.

Keeping on that thread, a couple days back I saw the Jose Chung episode of Millenium. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you're out of luck. But just like the rather unique and entertaining episode of The X-Files which features Jose Chung, there's a similar episode in Millenium. I love how the titles of these two episodes so perfectly and succinctly describe the basic theme of their respective series. For The X-Files, the Chung episode is titled "From Outer Space", and for Millenium, the episode is titled "Doomsday Defense". And really, that's what those two shows are all about!

Apparently, my dad's nickname among his buddies is/was at one time "Too Much". This is clearly reflected in the license plate he chose for the family van. Now, I don't know what earned him that nickname - although I can get a pretty good idea, judging from what I know of his personality, always taking on challenges and whatnot, and from *pieces* of stories from his younger days that have slipped out here and there - but recently I discovered an entirely different behavior of his that resembles that moniker. And it involves his cooking. Particularly when making sandwiches. They're always so huge, stuffed to the brim with ingredients, on huge buns, covered in grease. Personally, I think they're too masculine; I'd prefer a more feminine sandwich (if that makes any sense). But it's a matter of style, and at least the sandwiches are still usually good. But it's not just sandwiches. I enjoy the quesadillas he makes, but by god, they're like freaking overstuffed oreos or something (I'm sorry, I had a really hard time thinking of a good comparison). It's just that, the quesadillas I'm used to are mostly tortilla, with a nice hint of other ingredients inside, mostly chicken and cheese. But these ones my dad makes are truly beasts of the wild. And there's often huge portions, regardless of what's on the menu. My older brother eats a lot, but I'm on the other end of the spectrum, and I always feel pushed to eat more than I'd prefer, because you know, semiconsciously, I fear that not eating very much would give off the impression that I don't like the food or something, and I instinctively feel like that would be a personal attack against his hospitality. I know it's not a very reasonable reaction, but I can't help fearing that sort of outcome.

I was pretty tired last night, and I've noticed I've been getting to bed kind of late lately, and getting up at the last minute. I'd love to get to bed earlier, and last night I tried to. But god, I was exhausted, lying in bed, and what I really wanted was to just fall asleep, but something kept me up. Some nagging, restless feeling. I guess there's not much to say about it, I just can't get past the fact that when I have to get up, I'm tired enough to sleep for hours, yet when I go to bed, it's often an effort to cross that line into sleep mode. Why do I have to be sleepy when I have to get up, and not when my body needs to rest, and I want to go to bed? If only I could harness that power and apply it at the appropriate times. It's not like I'm never tired, that that energy's not there - it is, it's just not in the right place...

I finally finished reading the Rurouni Kenshin manga over the past few days. I had stopped at the end of the Kyoto Arc, and now I've finally read the (final) Jinchuu Arc. Very good. So that's where the stuff about Kenshin's past comes from - which is easily the best part of the animated series. I liked it a lot. Why does the ending have to be so depressing though? I mean, it's not like it's a particularly depressing ending. Ironically, I'd probably feel better if everybody died at the end - maybe that's why I like those tragedy endings better, because it's easier to say goodbye to a character when they've died and the world is destroyed, than simply walking away, knowing that their lives will go on, but that I won't be there to continue experiencing their pleasures and joys. It makes me feel sad, saying goodbye to those characters and their stories, and it makes me sad in real life, and I re-realize how lonely I am. And I think about my life, and I want to go out and have adventures, and make reality as interesting as fiction is. But it's not that interesting. And it's never that perfect or happy either. Still, even that intense feeling of nostalgia - whether it's for experiences you've had or only imagined - and that bittersweet, painful feeling of longing... I wouldn't give that up for anything. That feeling of being alive, and that desire to strive for more, to make an effort to try and relocate happiness, however futile the search may be. I just can't understand how anyone could treat life so lightly. But we don't all have the same experience of it, I fear.

I myself have questioned the merit of eliminating distractions. As much as I enjoy losing myself in fantasy lives, it keeps me away from my own, real life. I wonder if, I had nothing to do, at all, except lie in bed or strum the guitar or write stories from my own head, then maybe I'd strum the guitar and write stories from my own head more often. As long as I have a choice between doing those things, and doing something easier, with a more direct reciprocation of pleasure and satisfaction, I will almost always choose the easier path. I have this long list of things to do - largely, fantasy worlds to experience, in various forms - and I feel like I won't get anything really important done as long as those things are on the list. So I think about closing the list to new submissions, and burning through each item till it's empty. Then I could focus on what's important. But there are always new things, interesting things. What if I hadn't opened myself up to watching Berserk? There are a lot of things I enjoy, but I question how much impact they really have in my life, but a series like Berserk, I wouldn't want to live a life without having the experience of that series, given the choice. So if I close myself, what could I end up missing? Yet if I leave myself open, what important tasks in my life will I neglect? I have a really hard time balancing between the two, as I've explained. So I'm not sure where to go from here. But in the meantime, I still have that list of things that I intend to burn through.

Journal 014

Seriously, where did three days go?

Story time!

I learned how to add notes to photos in flickr today. Not that there's much to learn, although it was being buggy in Opera, so I ended up doing it in IE to make sure it would work right. But it's the first time I've ever actually added notes to a photo. Today's nude is a little more mundane than average, I think, but there's a neat little trick to it that wasn't actually inspired by, but perfectly mirrors in hindsight, the gimmick on the cover of Pink Floyd's experimental double album Ummagumma. I wonder how many of the few people that even see the photo will get the connection... I figured it was best to leave it a mystery and let the knowledgeable figure it out for themselves.

I know I already said that I didn't care /what/ people did as a result of seeing my nude photos, as long as it doesn't bother me - and I stand by that - but still, I'd like to hope that in the long run, my work receives more interest from artists, and actual nudists, than perverts. Not that I have a particular problem with the perverts, but it's just not the kind of people I'm looking to have a connection with. Hell, I'd love it if even just a woman got a kick out of my photos, regardless of intentions, but as far as I know (and I could be wrong), women, on average, aren't nearly as interested in seeing men naked as (straight) men are in seeing women naked. So where does that leave me? If you see naked men on the internet, what's your first assumption?

I'm 100% straight, and I'll admit I have homophobic tendencies. Though I'm straight, I'm not narrow-minded; I have no problem with other people who choose different ways to live their lives. What I /do/ have a problem with is largely a matter of image. The superficial argument goes something like this: I have enough trouble meeting girls as it is, I can't afford to let anyone have even the slightest doubt about my orientation. Then again, if you think about how much girls fawn over the gay guy, it seems like it'd be a nice way to weasel their affections, and in this bi-curious modern era, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to "suddenly" expand your horizons, fulfilling your girlfriends' forbidden dreams, which is secretly what you were trying to do in the first place!

Well, I'm not deceptive enough to try a thing like that. But furthermore, there is a more fundamental problem I have with the idea of guy-on-guy relations. Again, I make it a point not to judge others based on my own beliefs and opinions, but that sort of thing just isn't for me. Sure, I have no problem with the idea of girl-on-girl relations, but before you call me a hypocrite - the important point here is that I love women, and that I don't love men. So as long as the subject of loving is women, I'm happy, regardless of who's giving the love, and if the subject becomes men, then I'm hightailing it out of there.

Now, once upon a time, an interesting question was raised by someone in my presence. If you find yourself sexy, does that make you gay (or bi, I suppose)? My immediate answer to the question was no, of course not, that's something completely different. And that's precisely what I believe. I'll admit it, I have narcissistic tendencies. Some people dread looking at their reflection in the mirror. You know what? I actually enjoy having mirrors sitting around my room, so I can look at myself every time I cross the room and whatnot. Especially when I'm naked. I find myself to be fairly sexy. Does that mean I'm attracted to guys? No way. It's just completely different when it's yourself. When I look in the mirror, oddly, I don't see a guy, I see me.

On the one hand, I feel like this is something that's kind of hard to explain. On the other hand, I suspect that maybe other people understand and perhaps experience it themselves more than I might expect. At any rate, the bottom line is that I can enjoy looking at pictures of myself nude, but I have very little interest in looking at pictures of any other guy nude - that "little" constituting my interest in a purely artistic representation of the male body, or certain nudist pictures where the focus isn't on the body specifically, but on the /idea/ of being nude, which I can sympathize with.

As far as I am concerned with people, which isn't a whole lot, I could do without them mostly. People make me very anxious, and I would live a much more peaceful and relaxed life without them. Granted, they're pretty much essential to living a full life in this day and age, and that anxiety is one of the things I'm trying to work against. But I'm doubtful about just how much I can fix. I have a great family, and at least one of my two brothers I'm pretty close with (even though it gets frustrating sometimes). I have a better friend than I could have ever predicted that I'd have, which is great, because without him, I'd probably be a full-blown shut-in, with no contact with people whatsoever, one of those hikikomori cases you hear about in the news (if you live in Japan, I guess).

So at this stage, although I like the idea of finding people to hang out with who share my interests (especially considering that the friend I mentioned above is currently living out-of-country), I'm pretty confident that the anxiety and effort of meeting and knowing those people wouldn't be worth it, and I have little motivation to add any new people into my life. Still, I'm always looking for a potential soulmate. Even if I sincerely doubt my chances of ever finding someone who could possibly meet my standards, I'm still not about to give up. And even though I don't even meet people, and I don't hang out with people, I'm still open to the idea that some day, some way, there /could/ be a person to fill that space that I'd love to have filled.

I guess it's kind of pathetic. I mean, what are the chances of me finding someone who is both an attractive female, /and/ shares my interests? If we talk about nudism alone, most of the vocal nudist population I've been exposed to is male, and middle-aged. And nudism is only one of the interests I have that is far out of the mainstream. I can't even find a way to live in this mainstream world, I certainly can't have anything to do with mainstream people. But it's hard to find radicals. First of all, they're a minority, so there's less of them. Plus, there're so many different kinds of radicals, it's impossible to find the type you want. You find the wrong type of radical, and yeah, they might be just as anti-mainstream as you are, but they might have wild beliefs and opinions that run drastically counter to your own. And that ain't gonna work. It's like the world is saying, "step into the mold, or fend for yourself." And I couldn't fit into the mold if I wanted to try.

Well, this has been interesting. I almost dread what a certain reader might say in response. We share a lot of the same ideas about things, but our philosophies diverge considerably at some point. I feel like he's trying to push me to adopt his outlook, and it's not going to happen. Then again, I reluctantly find myself trying to force him to see some of the things I see, and that's not going to happen, either. He chooses anger; I'm content to live with sadness. That's the difference between metal and blues, anyway. I don't care if everything sucks, it's still infinity times better than nothing. And just because there's no logic in god, that doesn't mean there isn't any logic in life, or love. Maybe it is all based on gut feelings, in the end. I feel enlightened because I'm not infected with god. Maybe he feels enlightened because he's not infected with life or love, beyond what's forced upon him. Still, even though I have no love lost for god, I wouldn't give up life or love for anything in the world. And that's who I am.

This is who we are.

The time is near.

790 days remaining.

How Did It Come To This?

Ten years ago, this was a relatively normal family. Two parents, three kids in school. And you know, it might sound arrogant, but I felt like I was the favored child in the family. Not because of how I felt about myself, but because of how I perceived others feeling about me. Compared to my brothers - and no offense to either of them - I was the genius, the smart kid who consistently got good grades. And in those days, grades are the sole determinant for future potential (LIES!). The way the formula's supposed to work is something like this: kids all go to college, graduate, start promising careers, find a wife, marry, start a family, the cycle continues, while the parents get used to their newfound freedom and as retirement age sets in, they learn to sit back and enjoy life and go after the dreams they may have forsaken in their hardworking youth.

Of course, the devil fools with the best laid plans. My mom desired freedom and independence, and so my parents split up right around the time when the oldest of us sons were getting ready to graduate high school and move on to college. Within a year of that turning point, my dad lost his job to down-sizing, and though I don't know what his plans were then, it's been years and he hasn't gone back to work, so for the time being, it seems like it was a forced early retirement. He keeps himself fairly busy holding down the old homestead, and spends a lot of time watching TV, which I know he enjoys, but there's a question, at least in my mind, of whether he'd have an interest in pursuing something else in life, while he still has the time and the health, if he didn't have the potential concerns about taking care of us kids that he wouldn't have if we didn't end up being such parasites. As for my mom, she seems to be doing pretty well for herself, maintaining a positive outlook, and working like a machine to get her own business off the ground.

As for us kids, at least one of us managed to hit the mark, mostly. My older brother has been working constantly since the age of, like, 14. He bought a very pretty, used Firebird while he was still in high school. After graduating college, he was immediately placed in a prestigious accounting firm, where he's been the past few years. He works a lot, but he makes a lot of money, and as far as I can tell, his future looks promising. So far he's chosen to live out of this, our dad's, house, for whatever reasons - there are plenty to choose - although I'm confident that he could afford to move out if he wanted to. He's got friends, too, and it seems like he's perfectly suited to living life. He might envy my lifestyle of effortless laziness without responsibility, but I envy his ability to deal with the world and get done the things that need to get done.

So what happened to me? I remember touring my dad through the physics building one day when he visited me on campus while I was enrolled at college. I showed him some of the posters on the walls in the halls, of various students' collaborative projects, and he was amazed at it all - all this mind-bending complicated science-stuff. Everybody was impressed, I was studying physics, I was gonna be the next Einstein, I was gonna redefine the laws of the Universe, I was gonna win the Nobel Prize, I was gonna go to space, I was gonna invent new technology. I was on the cutting edge of knowledge. Hell, I believed it myself, for awhile. But then I learned the reality of things, and certain events undermined even my ability to keep up with the pace I had set for myself. So I dropped out. I may have graduated college, but that doesn't change the fact that I dropped out of life.

On the other hand, my little brother has dropped out of college, but he still seems able to pursue his dreams, even if they're the runner-up dreams (Living The Plan B!). He's been making efforts to get a job, and here I sit, wasting away. It seems as if not one of us is really supposed to be here, like this, but that's the way things have turned out. I have dreams and desires, but I don't have the motivation or ability to do anything about them. I'm paralyzed. I'm living in a shelter, and I've lost the desire or ability to protect myself, out there.

What do I want? I want to move into an apartment somewhere - get a place to myself. I want to be in charge of providing for myself, getting my meals, paying my bills. But I'd need to have an income, and that means getting a job. I want to have a job. But any job I can imagine, doesn't feel like something I could do. It's all so strange and unfamiliar, and I'm terrified to go out there. I'm terrified to be on my own. I want to be on my own, and I want to experience that excitement. But at the same time, I'm terrified of the possibility of failing, and not knowing how to deal with it, whether I can figure out what to do to get what I need and want, and actually doing the things I know I need to do - because they scare me!

1) Get an apartment. What do I have to do? Look. Look where? Go around neighborhoods? Look in newspapers? Look online? What kind of place am I even looking for? How much can I afford to spend? What kind of things do I need? Where do I even want to be? It's too much, I don't know where to start, and even if it came down to contacting people and looking at places, and moving in, I don't think I could handle that. Too much uncertainty, too much unfamiliarity, too much fear. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

2) Get a job. What do I want to do? Should I force myself to do something I don't want to do? Then how do I pick a thing? I feel terrible getting a low-end job because I'm a freaking college graduate, but the higher-end jobs (including middle-end) are too intimidating and selective. Almost any job you can think of includes interacting with people, and that terrifies me. Even if it was a lonely job, I still can't put myself in a place where I'm being evaluated, judged to determine whether I'm fit for the spot. I don't feel like I'm what any part of society is looking for, and I have a hard time justifying who I am to a bunch of tight-necked squares. Why do I want this position? Truth is, I don't, I'm only applying for it because I need a job, badly. I don't wanna do it, I don't wanna be here, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to talk to anyone else. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

I'm lost and I'm scared and I don't know what to do, and nothing's happening because I have this happy place that I can crawl into where I can forget about all of that stuff for awhile, and just simply exist. I understand the need to pull the rug out from under my feet, but there's nothing in the world that can make me do it, and I'm too afraid to let anyone else near it, because I'm terrified, scared to death, of standing on the naked floor. That's a silly metaphor for a serious problem. I'm confused and I don't know what to do. I've been taking small steps for two years, hoping that a convenient solution would present itself, but it hasn't, and I'm not equipped to do the things that need to be done to improve my condition. I want help, but I'm willfully isolated from any person who could help me, if such a person exists.

There's a conflict going on inside, between the two sides of me. There's the side that's ruled by fear, and the side that's ruled by desire, and the side that's ruled by fear has the upper hand. My desires demand recognition, but my fears refuse to acknowledge them.

Why can't I be making periodic posts about how great my life is going, about the interesting things I'm involved in at work, about the fun trips I go on with friends, about the great connection I have with my girlfriend? Why do I have to live in a state of periodic distress, between the periods of being comfortably numb with my life and who I am? Why do I have to be this person, and not someone else? I understand that everyone has problems, but why can't I be a person who's got the equipment to deal with his problems? Why did I have to be the person who doesn't have what it takes to handle his problems? Why did I have to be weak? How come in this overcrowded world it's so easy for me to avoid the people who might go out of their way to help me? How come more of those people don't exist, and how come they don't do a better job of finding the people that need them?

I heard there's this program in Japan, created to help hikikomori, where the parents call in and hire a Rental Sister to act like a concerned sister and do whatever it takes to get through to the hikikomori and encourage him to join a program and improve his life. I want a Rental Sister...but they'd probably be expensive, especially if I have to ship her from Japan, and I'd probably need a translator, too...

Journal 010

Unfortunately, I haven't done too much to take advantage of it, but the weather's been mild the past two days or so. Though it's also been kind of rainy/windy. The temperatures are up in the 50's though, even overnight, which is nice for drab February. Last night the garbage was out, so I made a point to finally take out those boards from the collapsed VHS tower. It was the middle of the night, of course, and I was most certainly naked, but I took them all the way out to the curb. I also took a bag out tonight, to the side of the house. In related news, I got the new wall decoration I ordered recently just the other day. It's an official-looking "Clothing Optional Beyond This Point" sign, and I think it's totally cool. There were three kinds, indicating either Florida, California, or Hawaii State Beaches at the bottom, and though I could have easily taken California, I went with Hawaii since you can't go wrong with tropical islands.

My brother convinced me to aid him in satisfying his craving for Wendy's tonight, before the drive-through closed at 1am. We ordered and ate in the parking lot (in the van, of course). They were out of frosties, surprisingly. They had chicken nuggets, but they weren't as good as the old chicken tenders they used to have... The fries weren't the best fast food fries I've ever had, either. But hey, it is what it is. I made a point to stop at Giant Eagle before going home, because I needed to restock my supply of cotton swabs. I also picked up the latest issue of Fangoria. I wonder if it's really popular or something, because sometimes I go and I just don't see it there, and today, the issue I grabbed was the last one.

I haven't read any of it yet, but flipping through, I saw an ad for The Poughkeepsie Tapes, an upcoming horror mockumentary (?) supposedly scheduled to open this Friday. However, reports on its opening date are mixed, and there's some evidence that the 2/08/08 date has been bumped. Right now I'm not exactly sure when the movie will be released, whether it will be in a couple days, or not until the end of the year - or anytime else - but I am looking forward to seeing it. Basically, from what I've seen of the trailer, it's supposed to be a faux documentary of a serial killer who left behind tons of video tapes of his crimes. Not surprising that certain people would get upset about it, but I have to admit I'm very intrigued by it. The whole dark side of mankind idea, and gazing into the abyss, and all that. I'm a horror fan, and it's probably not surprising that I have an interest in serial killers and things like that. It's not terribly easy to talk about, casually, because people have a tendency to assume that if you're interested in that stuff, then you're automatically predisposed to partake in it. Well, I hope you can guess what I think of that mindset. Watching Millenium sort of gives me the idea that it might be cool to be an investigator of violent crimes or something, since I feel like I could sympathize with these criminals, while not actually condoning their behavior. Getting into the mind of the killer in a way. Though without Frank Blank's special skill. It'd probably be completely different to be exposed to that sort of thing in real life, though. I mean, I don't mind the gore in a horror flick at all, but, ironically, when it comes to real life, I get queasy at the mere sight of blood. Just one of those things...

I've already fully accepted the fact that I belong on the lunatic fringe of society. If I do ever have a place in the mainstream, it can only be a cover. But that doesn't make me bad or evil or uncivilized or anything like that. I'm simply different. My standards and morals and values don't necessarily match up with the average. It's a shame because it makes things rather difficult for me. I'm a victim of space and time. But on the other hand, I value my uniqueness, and my unconventional opinions. It takes all kinds. I just hope I can find *some* place for myself in this world...

I finished Dying Of Embarrassment in two sittings. More of the same. Plenty of good information, but it still comes down to the question of making an active effort. And desensitization. If I felt okay about willfully entering these situations, even just enough to overcome my fear of them, then my problem would have been long gone by now. Although I'm still hoping for a miracle (read: knight in shining armor), I've already come to the conclusion that there's very little chance of me overcoming my problems on my own. Yet, getting professional help is incomprehensible to me. It doesn't help that in that section in the book, their best advice is to "ask questions". Yeah, the hardest possible thing for me to do. Even if I knew what I was getting into. Ideally, I think everyone should have a personal guardian (angel, perhaps?) that guides them through life. Of course, that would be impossible, because there are few if any people actually qualified to do a good job of that, and they'd have to be so dedicated to their case that they could only handle one person at a time (and then who would handle them?). Well, there's another piece of proof that 'God' doesn't exist. No guardian angels. Fuck you, god.

RPM Challenge is, well, *is*. I guess I'm coming up with some stuff. Still plenty of time to play around and put things together, I guess. If anything, it's been a pretty good excuse for me to pick up the guitar and play. Although it's easy to get distracted playing through all the riffs/songs I know, not that that's altogether a bad thing. I figure I should learn the songs in that Blues Guitar Bible I have, because they're great blues songs that I would kill to have in my repertoire. The only thing stopping me is the effort. Freddie King's I'm Tore Down is in there, and I started trying to play it last night. Awesome short little opening lick that totally sounds like a Freddie King lick. But golly, knowing which notes to play isn't enough. You have to know *how* to play them to make them sound good, the way Freddie does instinctively, and then you gotta practice them enough that you can nail them on the fly. Think of the effort, and that's just the first few seconds of the song! But I want more than anything to be able to play that song start to finish with all of Freddie's stingin' licks. UuuuUuuUUuuuUUuuggghhhh... Why can't I have been born with an indomitable work ethic?

Journal 004

I got up today as usual. I made it to dinner just in time to catch an uncomfortable argument between my two brothers. Fortunately, I had no part in it. Basically, my older brother was more or less drilling my little brother on his life plans, while my little brother was pretty much purely on the defensive. It was a frustrating argument to witness, because there was clearly no leniency to be had. My little brother wasn't about to take advice clearly given from the perspective of The Man, and my older brother was clearly not about to give in and concede that any part of my little brother's plans were smart, or right. They were coming from completely different angles, and in my opinion, there was nothing to be gained; I was just glad when it ended. My dad came into the kitchen and asked my older brother a question about some athlete (hockey player?), and my brother got into this whole long discussion, since he's clearly a huge fan of that whole world. Maybe it was purely coincidental, but I have a feeling that maybe my dad was secretly just trying to give my brother something else to talk about, rather than ragging on my other brother. Either way, it worked.

Being the second Friday of the month, tonight was an Open Stage night at the den. Just before eight (I like to be fashionably right-on-or-slightly-past-time), I packed up my guitar and amp and my brother and I hopped into the van for the less-than-five-minute drive up to the den. For tonight, I chose Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada EP, which I got for Christmas, for our listening pleasure. When we got to the den, my brother rushed in ahead of me. As I was walking in, he said we had to go back to get his harmonicas, since he was apparently recruited to jam with the Stickman!

Getting back the second time, the fun began. I got to see the end of The Primatives' opening set (they're the folk rock band that runs the Open Stage). They did Never Again, a song they haven't played much recently, but that my brother has made a habit of covering periodically. And to close, they played All Along The Watchtower, which is one of my favorite covers that they do. It sounded really good. The first time I heard them play that song, it opened me up to a whole new perspective on the meaning of it, and I've appreciated the song even more ever since then. Hendrix's version with the lead guitar is awesome, but I still think The Primatives' version has the most meaning.

My bro played harmonica on Mary Jane's Last Dance with the Stickman and another regular at the den on guitar and vocals. (For the uninitiated, the man known and referred to here as the 'Stickman' is an awesome musician who regularly plays the Chapman Stick - look it up if you've never heard about them before, it's like a combination of a bass and a regular guitar, essentially a guitar with the range of a piano). After that, I paid less attention to the performers, and more to my warming up. When my set came up, I did my regular shtick, with the whole madness thing, this time emphasizing my appreciation for the invention of electricity. A recurring theme in my thoughts of today is the fact that I much prefer electric music to acoustic music. It's always been that way for me. The stinging bite of a good tone is worth everything in this world. And that's to say nothing of feedback!

After the show ended, the core group (consisting of The Primatives and their closest den friends, as well as my brother and I) headed out for a late night snack. This week, it was the local pizza shop which happens to be open till like 2am on Fridays and Saturdays. We had some good old general hanging out, with some good old classic pizza, and then eventually returned home.

My dad and his good friend, who had both been at the Open Stage (the friend also performed - my dad was just there for moral support, and because it's a happening place, I'm sure), were still up shooting pool in the basement, as usual. After my dad beat his friend (like always), he challenged me and beat me in a best 2 out of 3. I also took the chance to ask him if he was interested in seeing Lez Zeppelin - the all-girl Led Zeppelin tribute band - when they come to town in February. I've been dying to see a Led Zeppelin cover band, particularly since seeing the Pink Floyd cover band The Machine, and Lez Zeppelin are supposed to be good. I missed them the last time they came through. I'd love to see it with my bro, but, like usual, it's a 21+ show...

So after that, the house finally quieted down, though it was already about 2am. I've been having a hard time tonight trying to balance my desire to be completely nude with my desire to be warm. It feels a little colder than it has been, maybe because I've been out of the house today. Actually, my first order of business - after getting undressed, ironically - was to take the garbage (just from my own room) out to the side of the house (something I meant to do days ago, but kinda forgot). It was brisk, indeed, but it was quick, so it couldn't hurt too much. Taking the garbage out (in the middle of the night, of course) is actually a great, and practical, excuse for going outside nude - and you can even do it in the cold, since it doesn't take very long! Still, I had to warm up under the covers in my bed for a few minutes after I got back inside. No point in staying overly chilled.

All that remained of the night then was just some reading, and catching up (only slightly) on some anime. So much to do, and so much to be done - and I have no work, no responsibilities! I don't know what to tell you. You might think, "well, if you're so busy anyway, why don't you just get a job and then you'll at least get paid for being busy?!" But it's obviously not that easy. Even though there's tons of stuff to do, it's still stuff I enjoy doing. And more importantly, there's a huge difference between doing my own thing in my own little world, and doing something 'worthwhile' out in the real world. Even if I knew where to begin (and it might be true that I do), there's still the matter of overcoming my fears of going out there...

Journal 003

I know I promised that hippie entry, but now that it's expected of me, I find myself avoiding the task. At any rate, you'll have it by the end of the week, I promise, or else it would have made no sense to do the hippie theme on my music log this week (which I certainly can't change now). In the meantime...

I actually forced myself to go to bed at a reasonable hour yesterday (meaning 7 in the morning instead of 10 in the morning), so I was pretty well-rested. I still got up out of bed at the last minute, though, to hop in the shower and dress for dinner. It was sloppy joe's, which I'm not so thrilled by, and Kraft macaroni n' cheese (the blue box kind), which I'm incredibly thrilled by. I heaped the mac onto my plate and ate a full helping before even considering the sloppies.

I was a little aimless after dinner, but I eventually got around to trying to hook up my guitar directly to my computer, in the hopes of recording some instructional audio tracks for my Quick Riffs web page. It was a failure. I tried plugging each of the holes, and I didn't get any response at all. So I'm not sure what to do now. But at the time, I ended up jamming out a bunch of the riffs with the distortion on my amp, just to convince myself I could still play them all (by the way, no sweat). I guess I kind of exhausted myself that way, and after the amp started getting squeaky for some reason, I shut it off and just lay there on the floor, with the guitar sitting on top of me, for a little while. Just relaxing.

Then, I spent some time reading. I read through the second of the two volumes of School Rumble I got for Christmas. Great series. I guess you know by now that I'm not much into comedies, but this is one of the exceptions. This series actually succeeds at making me laugh every now and then! Plus, this particular volume had one of my favorite scenes from the series - after the fireside dance where Eri dances with Harima, when she's sitting at home, refusing to go to school, partly because she's afraid to show her face after dancing with Harima, and partly because she's utterly confused about her feelings for Harima. The anime series describes the scene as "Eri feeling the blues". Now, considering that Eri is my favorite character in the series, you tell me that's not the perfect scene for me.

After that, I read through some of the books on nude photography I recently received, having ordered them partly as a birthday gift to myself and partly to encourage my interest in the field. There was a risque title on 'the art of rope' (if you know what I mean), which managed to be sexy without being too trashy. I also got a book of poses in the context of nude life drawing, which includes a CD that's supposed to be chock full of poses. I intend to practice some of those and see how well I can hold them for extended periods of time.

Additionally, there was a collection by Jock Sturges, a photographer I've come to admire for his portrayal of real people (as opposed to models) in a naturist context, regardless of age and gender. There seems to have been some controversy surrounding his work; I think the FBI actually charged him for involvement in child pornography, but it was clearly a defamation scheme. Although his photographs hide nothing, they are far from exploitative, and sexuality is never the primary theme, from what I've seen. There's a classic and very human soul in his images, and it seems his subjects have nothing but the greatest respect for him. All the more reason for me to support him.

Around 11 o'clock, after my dad went to bed, I got undressed. Nudity is hard to accommodate during the winter. Even with the heat on indoors, it still tends to be chilly. If it were up to me, I'd just crank up the thermostat until I'm comfortable, but I'm not the head of this household, and I'm not about to begin dictating the temperature of the house. Still, despite the weather being colder than it has been the past two days, it wasn't so bad in the house today. So I decided to go completely nude - no robe, no slippers, no nothing - and it felt great! It was a little chilly in the kitchen when I went to get some food around 1am, but I get the feeling that, unless I was bundled up, I would have actually *felt* colder had I been wearing clothes. It's a funny thing, but I've noticed that my body seems to be able to regulate heat more efficiently without clothing. Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize being nude as much as I can, but that's the feeling I've been getting so far.

My brother showed up in the kitchen, and we ended up having a surprisingly long (at least for me) discussion that was partly engaging, and deeply depressing. Basically, I kept trying to convince him that there were some good things in life worth living for, and at every turn, he shot them down with some counterpoint from his negative perspective. Seriously, I consider myself to be a pretty cynical person, but compared to him, I'm a life-affirming spiritualist or something. And it's really frustrating, too, because you realize that this is really what his life is like, and it honestly sounds like it sucks. You get the impression that, as he often confirms, death would actually be the only positive experience for him. And that really is depressing. I don't even know what to say to that, because it's really hard to embrace that sort of a perspective, and I think I've tried just about everything I can try to convince him otherwise.

The cat was generally being a nuisance during the conversation. Have I mentioned our cat yet in this blog? She's a Siamese. If that doesn't mean anything to you, then let me tell you this - Siamese cats are known for being loud, and being highly dependent upon human companions. In other words, they are ABOMINATIONS of the feline race! Anyhow, this cat in particular is named Sasha, and she's basically my mom's cat, except that my mom abandoned her when my parents divorced some 6 or 7 years ago (allegedly because the place my mom moved into didn't allow pets). And my dad's never been a cat person, so Sasha has really gotten the bad end of the bargain. And because of that, I want really bad to care for her, but there are two problems with that. Firstly, I am not an animal person. You'd think that a naturist, or even just a person who respects nature in general, would be an animal-lover. Well, allow me to be the counterexample that disproves that stereotype. I don't like animals. I think they're dirty, and it bugs me that I can't reason with them. If I don't like the way they're acting, there's very little I can do about it. Which brings me to the second reason I have such a hard time with Sasha. She makes so much freaking noise! She won't quit! Even in the middle of the night! When I'm slipping into the kitchen in the middle of the night, nude and naturally in ninja mode, trying not to attract extra attention, she comes out and starts screaming like a madwoman! I've tried many things to get her to shut up, but most of the time it just makes her more irritable - and louder! The best you can do is endure it, and wait for her to get tired. Which isn't a very good compromise, in my mind.

Anyhow, that's the situation. I have a hard time hating her (since I really am a kind person), but I have a hard time liking her, too. She ended up scratching me (inadvertently - she may be obnoxious, but she's not at all violent) quite significantly across the ribs. This is one of those situations where I would have benefited from having a little armor. Luckily, it didn't really hurt. I just hope it doesn't leave a mark. At any rate, the most it's gonna do is make me even more conscious of keeping that cat away from me. It certainly hasn't hurt my enthusiasm for being nude.

After the convo, a storm started kicking up outside. Not so much a winter storm, but more your typical wind and rain storm, with an emphasis on the wind. I still hear the wind howling out there now. When the wind gets in the back door, the space between the inner and outer doors creates a kind of wind tunnel, which makes some rather loud noises, that can be quite unsettling when you aren't expecting them. It's been howling quite a bit the last few hours. There was a very brief period when the storm went into overdrive. I went downstairs and peered through the blinds on the front door - the rain was falling so hard it was like a thick fog! Naturally, I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. I absolutely love storms - I always have. Something about the energy of nature in those aggressive moments just ignites my excitement. The porch was wet under my feet, even standing just in front of the door, well under the overhang of the roof. I could feel the rain sprinkling against my skin, being sprayed almost horizontally by the heavy winds. It felt exhilarating, and I would have just loved to have gone out and danced through it, but it was much too cold - too cold even to stand there for more than about a minute. Still, that minute was totally worth it. Those kinds of moments are one of the things I live for. They're one of the things that makes life for me worth living.