The Sock-Monkey As Alone

     The way we look at identity is, uncomfortable. Your mind is as much out of  your own control as any other force of nature. The storm is founded on the ego, the survival impulse buried in a elaborate fiction. The elaborate fiction is a defense of the reality of your survival. All living things that are not broken have a will to life. While the best of us have a rage to greatness or what I think zen teachers like to call "the will to truth." The truth whatever that may be, is something close to ambition without goals or pure effort without any attachment too results. What is hard, is that we as human beings have to see ourselves (the fiction of our identity, that most people call the soul.) as something that gets in the way of us (the blood, bone and muscles that is reality.) from getting what we need, not what we want. Their is no end to what we want, because the ego uses the fiction of our identity like opium and it's a hard habit to quit, but reality is always waiti

     I woke up this morning and I was not hung over, I was lets say, feeling it. I've been struggling to get off the floor for as long as I can remember and the strangest thing I've learned from zen is that I am already off the floor. Sure I can make better choices or i could stop regretting the past but none of that changes right now, none of that changes the actual reality that is me, or the things surrounding me. so then what exactly does it change? Nothing more then my perception of it, not clarity but the desire to be rid of clarity, the desire to be rid of of the arbitrary reduction on reality that is me, or the illusion of this thing that I call me.     Box-car racer was a great band, I have no shame in saying this. As I am writing this, I am listening to their self titled debut, which I hope will stay forever there only release. it's reminding me of things i don't like to think about, of moments and people who no longer exist in any form. People I miss, who ar

     When Sucker Punch came out most people hated it. They talked about the visuals, the effects and the girls, all but calling the film a soulless shiny object. they said it didn't have personality or character, they said it was sexed up misogyny or walmart feminism. That all the things these young women went threw, was nothing more then traps for grown men to fall into, too sadistically smile at these barbies come to life. That it had no purpose, no song or reason, only the desire to play with the Bambi eyed cast like a pit bull plays with a kitten.      Let me start this by saying in no uncertain terms, I disagree with all that bull-shit. I disagree with the naive way that most people choose to look at things that make them uncomfortable, that we live in a society where the reality of what actual empowerment is, can't be said on basic cable, or out-loud at all, for that matter. That all the shit they went threw, be it Baby doll, Blondie, Sweat pea, Amber or the gangster Roc