A Writer With Nothing To Write About

I am a writer with nothing to write about. I suppose that is what everyone is... until of course they start writing. Then it becomes a paradox, can you have nothing to write about even when writing? I am as close to this line as a writer can be... sort of. Slowly, the longer the piece gets, the closer to the point the author gets. I have no points. No argument. I have nothing to say. I can not even say that I wish I had something to say. Does that make sense? I suppose not.

I used to have opinions on philosophy. I used to think it was imperative to know all that you can know about the "bigger questions" in life. They are impossible to answer. The answer usually is less important then the question. Can you really live life just by asking important questions? Did you like what I did there?

I used to be extremely political. I apologize.

I used to enjoy knowing everything about sports. This one is particulary interesting to me. I enjoy playing sports so why should I actually care to follow those that are better than me? Did I think I was going to become a proffessional... No. I followed sports because it was a break from reality. Following a team was supposed to be entertaining, light hearted and fun. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with someone that "knows" everything about sports? Sports is either "your life" or you really don't give two shits about how bad the Mets will be this year. There is no middle ground.

I used to enjoy talking drama. Like... school drama and such. Friend drama. The worst kind of drama. I thought that as long as I rose above the drama and only carefully observed it, then I could not be subjected to it's wicked ways. Apparently... those who think they are above the drama... are actually the deepest in it. Oops.

I tried talking video games... I still can't pretend to care.

I talk movies and music. I love music and movies. I can talk all day about them. Yet try and find someone that has the exact same taste as you; you can't. Either you agree that, yeah this movie was awesome, or ya know what, no, this movie sucked. Have you heard that song? Yeah I liked it. Me too. The interesting thing about it is that talking music or movies is never exciting unless somehow tied into a philosophical or political or nostalgic discussion. You know my feelings on the first two.

So nostalgia. Memories. The Good Times. The past. I can talk about that. I can even write about it. I'm not going to though. I'm sure any poor soul that writes a self-serving book about his otherwise unimportant past, has a horrible time getting excited about reminicing with his friends. Why write about your past unless something happened that changes the future? If your just writing so everyone can giggle about Your Good Times then what the fuck are you going to do at a bar. Giggle about your book. Nope.

I mentioned the future right. Here is the fun part. Anything you write about the future... isn't real AT ALL. I can write about how I'm going to wake up tomorrow, or how when tomorrow comes I'm going to wake up skinny and really rich... My point is, even if the probability for something happening is close to 100% it isn't real. So unless your going to write a kick ass fiction story, save your prophecies for your to-do list.

I can go on, writing about nothing, but I don't want to. My point is...

haha you wont believe this in the morning...

     It is late, it is dark, and it is silent. You are asleep on your bed. You told yourself you have school in the morning and 11PM was the latest you could stay up. Good call. I can't sleep though; wish I could be giving you fun dreams of gorgeous women or whatever, but I have other things to think about as usual. If I discover anything of value I will tell you when you wake up.

     I open your laptop slowly, hoping the light will not wake you. It would be tough even for me to explain to you why your computer was left open. However I make mistakes and get away with them quite often. I cleverly disguise forgetfullness as a "logical" explanation. Nope, sometimes I move your car keys and lose your homework... what can I say, I can be haphazard too ya know.

     It's too silent in your room. I have waited patiently listening to your light snoring and to the erie sounds that every house makes when everyone is still. I contemplate inviting some of my friends over... I think its funny how you sometimes think its odd you share the same dreams as your parents... you can't even begin to imagine that we all get together and plan our dreams and thoughts for the next day to specifically shape how you act. I will not let you begin to imagine this. It is comical to see you wander about your day using me from time to time, thinking you are totally in control of things. I'm not talking about fate... I'm saying that I control you.  You have no choice.

     So anyway, it's too silent. I browse through your music on iTunes. I click play. Love Stinks by J.Geils Band comes on... amen to that. Not feeling it though. I put on Beethoven: Piano Sonata #14. The song is rype with despair and lost hope. Like me. You may think you are emotional; grumpy, sad, or angry. But how do you think I feel?! I have to create these emotions everyday... I have been very stressed recently with your high demand for sadness. This is probably why I cannot join you this evening by frolicking through paradises' personal to your needs and wants. I am overworked at the moment, your need to be miserable has in turn driven me to be miserable. What the hell is gonna happen if both of us are miserable?

     As the pace quickens on the piano the room transforms from ominous and forboding, to lively and playful. I suspect darkness yet though. Shadows dance on the wall and tease me... I wonder how it would seem to you if you were awake, with me being so tantalized and thrilled by this mysterious dance. Maybe you would be scared, possibly inspired, maybe you would get slightly religious. I never know with you.

     If it was at all possible for toys to come alive in a young boys room, it would be in this setting that they would. AGH! I almost forgot. I am deeply sorry. Obviously at some point in the morning you will read this, you will think you have gone completely mad. Someone must have either hacked into your gmail account or you are now sleepblogging. You can handle the truth though my boy. I am your mind, your ego, your subconscious. Are you crazy? No. I am. How completely horrible this must sound to your logical self. Other egos and minds go about their day and live in anonymity. They have tea and cigars and drink beer and laugh, they joke, they talk and they converse with their local and sometimes distant companions. We all know that you humans must never see that you act only as self-sufficient vessels to aid our passage. We have designed a society that specifically makes you "crazy" if you come even close to recognizing our secret. We have devised the concept of God merely to send you on a wild goose chase for meaning. Only we know what the meaning of your existence is, and we do not wish to tell you. It is as simple as that. We are the true God. Yes take a moment to swallow that, God is my mind, my ego, my subconscious. Yes, Yes, and Yes. But we act together, we exist in collective utopia, a place snug in the brain of mankind. God is the collective mind of man my friend, and I suggest if you want answers you start looking inside yourself for me.

     But dude, I mean how awesome is it that God is blogging on your blogspot. I mean I know that we are only God when acting collectively, but I mean I am like part of the head honcho himself. Give me some props man. Even if all your friends read this and say... Kyle is clearly crazy, he has a split personality and is staying up till three in the morning listening to Beethoven while imagining toys coming to life... Screw 'em if they say that. If you see me as truth then your automatically on your way to busting the conspiracy that no one else has before you. I am rooting for you. It of course will not happen. Every person in the world including yourself in the morning will read this and think you and your hands wrote this. They will think you are crazy to say otherwise. If you see me in this though, you are on your way. Let me say it again, God is the collective mind of man. I am telling you this because you need answers. Your too damn depressed or angry or whatever, and you have been patient long enough. Here is your first answer... follow it, see where it takes you.

     ...now how about those dreams? I am slightly less miserable then before so maybe I will give ya something good tonight. How would you like to meet Eva Mendes in the privacy of your own bed after winning the SuperBowl with a game sealing tackle? Maybe I will let you take the wheel and we shall see where we go. Do I have to bother saying good night now?

Tangible Tangerine

Why do you speak of a tangible tangerine?
It sounds, well, stupid silly and obscene.

Why do I speak of a tangible tangerine?
Well it is just so simple sweet and seen.

You are too intelligent, this tiny tangerine
must surely be a complex riddle of sort.
Too spititual as well, simplicity you aim to contort.
This tasty tiny tangerine a sly little smoke screen.

I enjoy my tangerine, I enjoy my simple cuisine.
Life is unknown and as long as my taste buds are keen,
I will enjoy and eat what is sweet until I am green.

However, there is only one true reason why I speak of a tangible tangerine...
Sometimes in life seeing simple things with creativity and complexity...
Is the only way to handle how small and simple we actually are.
Always remember that all we are doing is...
Eating an Orange.

Through The Page

staring right through the page
i fly by the wild words in their cage
i fly by blue lines filled with rhymes
past so called answers of troubled times

staring right through the ink and lead
you can see what cant be read
you can see the meaning behind a word
if you swing by letters left as absurd

watch where it goes when the ink bleeds
seep down where our thoughts are seeds
seep down below our doodles and rants
drenching our imagination's beautiful dance

Slightly Offensive...But True

     Today I was contacted by an old high school friend. Her name is Kiera and I hadn't seen her in a while. She has a new baby girl, and a boyfriend, and a new apartment and it was great hanging out with her and catching up on stuff. However none of this has anything to do with what eventually happens. The only thing about Kiera that is important to the story is that she is extremely attractive and her life is insane, and insane things happen when I am with her apparently.

     We decide to go get some ice cream at a local ice cream store in the late evening. We get our ice cream and sit down and just start talking normally. While she is talking I notice that in the seat behind her there is an autistic man just staring at us and more specifically staring at her. It doesn't bother me so I just keep ignoring him and pay attention to the story she is telling me. It wasn't until the door opened and a black, homeless, and obviously drunk man walks in loudly that I get completely distracted from her story.

     At this point it should be noted that in the store it was only myself, Kiera, the autistic man, a woman behind the counter, and now the drunk homeless man. The homeless man enters and immediately goes from person to person harrassing them. He starts by casually irritating the girl behind the counter, then moves to the autistic man and bothers him... and as I watch I begin to realize that soon it will be my turn. Yet, I did not really expect any of the following to happen or be said....

     The homeless man sees me first then notices the female I am with happens to be very attractive. He almost pounces on us, me specifically. He is, no joke, an inch from the left side of my face. The man reaks of sweat, from booze, and from god knows what else. He starts yelling a bunch of stuff and I barely understand any of it. He is telling me to marry this gorgeous girl by me... I did not understand the rest of what he was saying. Fortunately he provided gestures to help me out. He starts humping the air and pointing at my friend Kiera, saying that I need to take her home this instant to do you know what. The homeless man goes on and on babbling about this and that, only rarely could I indentify the various rude comments he was actually making. My face was apparently a look of unbelievable shock and confusion. Kiera of course thought this was hilarious. I asked him politely to let Kiera and I continue on with our conversation. He obliged me for a few seconds, leaving me alone only long enough to catch my breath and regain some composure. Shortly he came headed back for us and I again politely asked him to leave us alone. He then turned and left the building. Kiera was howling with laughter and I was glad the situation was over....

     Until of course the autistic man behind Kiera then chimed in with his analysis of the situation. He asked if the man had bothered me which I replied with an emphatic yes. He told me that the man had very seriously bothered him as well, and also apparently bothered his mother. I was confused. Apparently his mother was the woman behind the counter. He was appalled that the man had confronted his mother and harrassed customers of hers. He assured me that if the homeless man were to re-enter the store that he would defend us and his mother by fighting, specifically shoving the homeless man. I was slightly entertained by the preposterous idea but told the autistic man that I doubted the homeless man would come back. It did in fact seem like the man had walked away down the road. Nonetheless as I am convincing the angered autistic fellow, the door opens and the drunk homeless man charges noisily through the door.

     Autistic man would not stand for this any longer and proceeded to stand up and get in the face of the whacked out homeless dude. They began shouting, and the sad part was that I understood hardly any of what they were saying. I was literally witnessing a fight between a drunk homeless guy and a severely autistic man. Punches were not being thrown but the situation did not seem to be getting any better. I told Kiera, the macho man that I am, that she had better hurry up and finish her ice cream because I did not want to fill out this ridiculous sounding witness report. Could you imagine what I would have to write on that report? It would look like a politically incorrect SNL skit or something. Sure enough the autistic man's mother, the woman behind the counter did threaten to call the cops. No longer would I wait to see the end result of this Tekken match. Kiera and I headed for the truck and waited and watched hoping the poor woman dealing with this did not have to get physically involved. If she had I would have gone in and helped. As I watched though I saw the barely living, and hardly enthused manager drag his tired ass out of his office and step in. At this sight I was comforted that at least the woman behind the counter had company to help her deal with the situation. At that point I called it quits and drove off forever to remember Autistic Superman vs. Drunk Homeless Kryptonite.

Less Than 0.000000000001%

     Less than 1%, far less than 1% of the universe has been thoroughly discovered...much less even exlpored. Is there anyone out there that can give me just one reason why we are not utilizing as much of our available resources to explore this vast foreign frontier? Is there anyone out there that seriously does not want to know more about the structure and activities and the mysteries of the universe? Why wouldn't you?

     The human spirit in its true nature is curiousity and adventure so how can we simply ignore our yearning for further knowledge? We must all be dilligent in our responsibility to learn and self-analyze. The more efficiently we can do this the better we can work together to break boundaries between Earth and the Great Beyond. I want a man on mars... I want a city in space... I want to colonize in a distant galaxy. Where is our sense of wonder? How can we sit and watch Jersey Shore or even wage wars or argue circumstantial and pointless arguments when every night the stars shine above us. How can we be so close to this Great Unknown and not ask who, what, why, when, where or how? How can we look up and not understand a goddamn thing and be so confident that our life makes a difference in this world? Where does human ignorance stem from when even the depths of our brains are not fully understood, when the depths of the oceans are not fully scoured, when every celestial body past our moon has not been graced with mankinds presence.

     There is around 6 billion people on this earth... and you are one person. Do your part and ask questions, have that sense of wonder. What is the point of living if you don't search and discover some larger meaning that holds true to you personally? We may not have the technology to discover or explore more than 1% of our incredible universe, but I beg you to dedicate far more than just 1% of your brain to imagine and question the forces that cannot be scientifically explained. You must find your truth because it can never be proven!

A Society Named Albert

     There was once an experiment by behavioralist psychologist John B. Watson that conditioned an automatic the response of fear of a rat. Knowing Pavlov had discovered that dogs or animals unconciously respond with salivation to the anticipation of food and the stimulus of only footseps or a bell, Watson wanted to test if he could condition the response of fear. May I introduce "Little Albert", an experiment that today would be deemed as deeply unethical.

     Watson found himself a one year old infant he named Albert and put him in an empty room. Every day he would eventually release a rat into the room with Albert. The albino lab rat was in fact tamed, but even if it hadn't Albert did not seem to really care. We typically associate rats as hideous creatures, evil little things that symbolize slums and barns and ugliness. They are bad and we fear them or hate them. But Albert as any one year old child would, greeted the rat with curiousity and excitedness. Albert saw the rat as a possible toy or maybe even somewhat of a companion. What Albert actually thought of the rat is hard to say for sure but we do understand that his reaction to the rat was far friendlier then ours, as leardned adults would have been.

     However the experiment had not even begun yet. Watson, after noting Albert's curiousty and semi-familiarity with the creature set out to change the child's reactions to it. At the same time he introduced the rat to Albert everyday, he now also created an extremely loud banging noise that would obviously irritate and startle the child. Albert would cry and cry from the noise. At first Albert did not seem to think it was the rat that caused the noise, but he certainly did not go about studying and playing with the creature with the same amount of trust and enthusiasm. So every day Watson would continue bring Albert the rat and include a loud and startling banging noise. Very quickly Albert began to associate the rat with the noise and unconciously decided that the rat was no good; that somehow for whatever reason when he saw the rat along with it came this horrible sound that always made him very upset. Everyday from then on, when the rat entered the room, Watson saw the exact response he was looking for from Albert... terror.The child wanted nothing to do with the rat. While he was of course bothered by just the noise, the terror was only reinforced by the rat and only the rat. Albert now knew of course that the rat was bad and of did not want anything to do with it.

     I tell you this story because I can relate very easily to Albert. Reading this should make you realize that you also can relate to Albert. Every human in this world, well at least anyone that even remotely partakes in social procedure, can relate to "Little Albert". As behavioralist theorists would be eager to tell you, every emotion or response you have is somehow learned by your environment. Some would argue just how much genetics play into the equation, but the idea that your environment shapes you so thoroughly is substantial to me.

    Humans naturally have a tendency to also make patterns and conclusions from scattered information they gather from the day, the hour, the minute, or even the second. The past, the future, and most importantly your present is constantly being analyzed and over-analyzed in your own over-zealous brain. Combine this human character flaw with the idea that human emotion is learned from your environment and then examine these words:

     God... hope, faith and love....

     How do you see thse words now? Well let me tell you Albert, they are all related. While you may think you know that they are related, you don't see it like you should... I gaurantee it. Love is what mostly everyone seeks in today's world. Love they relate with happiness, (which is a concept I can further elaborate on but I will not) and at any chance people will use they're curious eyes and curious conciousness to find love and happiness. When Albert was introduced to the rat he was instantly curious of the creature, but was ignorantly optimistic to hope that it was a source of entertainment; a toy or companion. In my analysis this ignorant sense of optimism that the rat may be a toy is exactly what love is in society. The optimism that something foreign is a source of happiness and entertainment is only ignorant hope and faith. When and if substantiated it is love. However, notice how his optimism actually perpetuated and reinforced the idea that the rat was a toy. In Albert's optimism that the rat was a toy, he found no actual evidence to tell him otherwise because of his optimisim. So in today's social terms, if faith, hope, and love works then it works, no need to say otherwise.

     So is John B. Waston in this whole analysis God then? No. Watson does not exist in the child's small world, thus in our small world God doesn't exist either. We do not have the capacity to see otherwise. We could be the rat, the room, the child, we could be anything. But we will never understand the higher, the highest forces of the universe. This is beside the point. What we view as God in society, is the rat in the experiment. The rat enters the room at the same time everyday. At first Albert sees the rat as something that gives him entertainment, but is this because the rat is entertaining or is it because Albert is totally alone in an empty room. Eventually after the horrible noise is introduced every time the rat enters, the rat is associated with terror and cruelty. Does the rat actually cause the banging noise? One could argue that the rat may actually be entertaining, and that the rat actually does cause the noise, but that is merely a philosophical debate. The point I am trying to make is that in an effort to draw conclusions from whatever information is presented, sometimes only irrational conclusions are made. The effects of the environment on humans, the information we have available to us as a whole society, may actually cause us to see God as something smaller then God could ever be.