-- Where to begin? So many things have happened. I feel that I am amidst darkness, but at am at least not try to hide anymore. Not that I have ever willingly hid (in fact, it seems that most people seem to think that I wear myself too much on my sleeve), but that so many things that have long gone undiscussed with all but a few are now coming out.

I suppose the best place to start is ``the BART altercation'', to give it a name without too much description. I was visiting the Mission, as I am considering moving there once my lease is up. I went to ``Blondie's Bar and No Grill'' (what a great name for a bar!). Normally I stick to beer and wine, just because I like the taste, but they claimed to have the best martinis in town and had designer vodka and olives to go with it. So I got a vodka martini with bleu cheese stuffed olives and olive juice, and it turns out I actually liked it. Just thinking about it makes me want to have a sip of one. It was a very hummy-chummy time at the bar. I was (and am) too shy to talk to people, but at least people were being jovial and I felt no one's ``evil eye'' on me.

I called it a night at about 11p and caught the BART home. Evidentally this was a popular time for the night-lifers to go home, as the trains were really crowded. I transfered at 12th street station to the Richmond line and the car was so crowded that I (and a number of other people) had to stand in the aisle.

The people next to me, who looked to be pretty typical college kids from the look of them, were talking about how crowded it was. The guy nearest me said, in a voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, ``I hope we can get through all these people when we get to our stop.''

Being in an oddly helpful and friendly mood, I said, ``Well, I'm getting off at Downtown Berkeley, if it helps.''

At this point, the guy in the far seat half-jumped / half-climbed over his friend and stood facing me in the aisle. He stood with his hands bowed out, fists at his side and stared me in the eyes. I guess I should mention that he wasn't much bigger than me. He said (paraphrasing), ``Hey! You got a problem? You should get the fuck out of here now! Get the fuck out of here!''

His friend turned to me and said, ``Yeah, you should go.''

I was so stunned I didn't know what to do. Keep in mine this all happened in the span of a few seconds. It seems all my life people have told me to run away and that is what I have done. And that is what I did do. I left the BART car, almost in tears, and went through several BART cars before I found another place to stand (yes, it was THAT crowded!). No one else on the BART did anything.

When I got home, I was still boiling over with rage, and sadness that I had run away, and hate for myself and those that caused me to do this. I guess what upset me most was that I don't know what I should have done in such a situation. The best I have been to come up with is to say something like: ``If you want to hit me, go ahead.'' I guess that would be the ``turn the other cheek'' approach. My dad came up with the idea of saying something to diffuse the situation, like ``I was just trying to help'' or ``I don't want any trouble''. But the words or even their thought was beyond me at the time. I don't mind leaving the situation and have no need to ``win'' such encounters for my own sake, but it seems throughout history on both the personal level and the international that the amiable have allowed the predators to walk over them, and through that effectively given them permission to walk over others. I am tired of running away. I am tired of supporting the very people that I feel don't deserve to be supported.

``People do take power, they are given it.''

More on this later. Time to eat.

Okay. so...

When I got back to my apartment, I grabbed a serated knife and started cutting on my legs. I don't really know why I did it. The thoughts that I remember were along the lines of ``Since I retreated from him, then I deserved to feel the hate that I inflict upon myself'' and ``I hope that this is what he wanted, since this is the direct result'' (in my mind at the time, anyway). I wanted him to see what he had accomplished. I wanted to be done with life. I wanted to know if this is what he intended.

I lost much blood. I probably could have died. I had pictures, but for better or worse they have been deleted. My cat came in and of course the poor loyal girl was distressed and didn't know what was going on. Poor Lilly. I feel sorry for the poor girl that she has such a crazy dad. I went to sleep hoping not to wake up.

But obviously I did wake up. I wrapped my legs in towels, as they were the closest thing I had to bandages. I felt (and still feel) that I couldn't call the hospital or emergency room for the money factor. I don't know how much it would be, but I would guess it would be over $1000. I figured it would be better to be dead than to owe another $1000. If we aren't to have socialized health care, so be it -- let me die. I still feel that way. Let those hard core capitalists reap the salt they have sewn, if they so wish to continue in their ways.

Speaking of which, I just got a SPAM. To any of those that send SPAM, please fucking kill yourselves. This is not a joke. Kill yourselves now. What you send is pure hate. If you want to be a slave to a machine, then go ahead and send. But please, I hope you cut yourselves to the point of near death like I have been. and if the moneyt means so much to you then...well, I wish you a happy fucking Afterlife.

Where was I before I was so rudely interupted? Ah yes, lying near the point of death. My only friend, Eel, (not her real name) was nice enough to come over and bring me food and medical supplies. She might have very well saved my life. I felt like Lestat must have felt after being nearly killed by Louis and Claudia in Interview with a Vampire. While the second night I also almost passed out from loss of blood, after that I knew I would survive. Slowly I was nursed back to health. On Tuesday, I went to the UC Berkeley Tang center, which basically dressed my wounds and I agreed to go into counseling which I am still in.

I am trying to be as open as possible with knowledge. The one thing that truly destroys us is ignorance.

-- Getting along with the story, more drama has happened ``in a world where nothing ever happens'' (its from Superstarlet AD, if you're curious). I went to the International Conference on Plasma Science in Monterey. My mom was nice enough to lend me her car for the week, or so the plan was to go.

So I got there. I have been trying to not do too much drinking alone, but on my first night in Monterey I thought I would explore the various bars in the town. I ended having about five drinks at various places when I remembered there was some stuff at my apartment that I thought I needed (they seem so trivial now) and I also wasn't sure if I had latched the snake cage. I gave Nathan, my boa constricter, some water right before I left for my trip and remembered closing the cage but I wasn't absolutely sure it was latched (just 90% sure). I'm the kind of person that if I can't remember doing it for sure, then I always worry that I hadn't done it, even if I'm pretty sure. So I was worried that my snake and my cat would have a close encounter of the violent kind.

I wished I had realized these things before I was drunk, but that's how the dice landed. And then my greed (no doubt accentuated by alcohol) began to take over. I had planned to do sea kayaking all day Sunday, so in my greed to have all this time to myself, I decided to go that night instead of waiting until the next day and sobering up. I guess its a little late for shoulda's. I figured that I could ``get away with it''. And since I'm writing this 'blog, you can probably guess that I didn't.

So that was mistake number one. Mistake number two was not going back several miles out of town when I realized I didn't have my glasses with me. But mistakes always come in threes with a big finish. I took the wrong route trying to get on 101N from 156E and ended up wandering near the freeway trying to get back on going towards Berkeley. Twice I got to the freeway, but in a way I could only get on 101S. The third time, I could see 101N across the highway, and though I couldn't legally get there, I tried anyway. I got hit by a gas truck and the car was spun around several times. The gas truck didn't stop, but a pickup behind me saw the whole thing and stopped. He asked me, ``Are you okay?''

``I think so,'' I said. In retrospect, its kinda amazing I survived, let alone wasn't injured.

He advised me that I should try and get away before the cops arrived, which was strange to begin with. I told him that I didn't think the car would make it anywhere. He said, ``No, I mean on foot.'' Stranger still. I don't know what his intentions were, but I certainly wasn't about to flee the scene of an accident on foot in the middle of nowhere, let alone the fact it was my mom's car I wrecked.

The cops showed up very soon. They arrested me and I spent the night in jail. Thankfully, they gave me a cell by myself, otherwise things could have gotten ugly. I gave some thought on just fleeing into the wilderness after my release, but you can probably guess from the fact that I'm writing this that I didn't. My parents picked me up the next day, and I told them everything.

A part of me wishes I had died. At least I wouldn't owe anyone money. As often as I have been near death, I have to believe that there is some reason I am being kept alive, for some lessons still to learn. I try to have such faith.

-- Someone to whom I won't assign an alias broke up with me today. Unrelated, I went walking in SF for basically all day. Fun, for the most part. I posted this CL ad (and if you don't know what CL stands for, then you better MYOB SMF [ OMG! LOL!!!!!!!]):

->NextItem() - 27
Date: 2005-07-02, 9:38PM PDT

The next entry in our catalogue concerns a strange life of one hyper-evolved ape from the third moon of Sol. Much of his mid-late twenties was spent in sadness and the mourning of being alone. He felt that it was unfair that his fellow man creatures seemed to either make fun of him, either passively or actively, or showed over desparately how they ``owned' their females (yes, males of the 21st century after their Christ still often were instinctually compelled in this direction). He was overly sensitive to such things, but such incidents were not uncommon in his timespace, and his sensitivity heightened their occurance.

He spent too much of his time mourning the fact that he did not have a romantic companion. While most other man-apes in his age group seemed to be more interested in relationships for the sake of sex or social status, this creature primarily sought someone that he could exchange affection with on equal terms, and someone with whom he could be simpatico. He missed cuddling and having someone to adore, as well as someone he adored, from his scant and messy collection of past relations. He believed that love was a thing both young and old, and felt he was approaching the point where he would no longer be able to share the spirit of youth with a potential partner. Now we are aware that the ideal of monogamous soul mates and "romance", in the sense meant by "Terran poets", is another fold of delusion in the fabricless mantle of the stars. When all conciousness is one, the concept of a soul mate is a nonsensical definition; but in the disparity of conciousness as inhabited by these man-apes the idea of finding the other side of one's individuality seems somehow captivating. This catalogue entry fell victim to this illusion, and even knowing it was an illusion, he hoped to glimpse the affection behind the aesthetic beauty of this illusion. Do not all illusions start in beauty? On his planet, it was a common confusion between true affection and the feelings produced by the act of sexual propogation. This was self-evidently part of their programming slanting towards survival.

But these truths he did know, and slowly the fascination with these illusions faded into a dull ache in his life. He lived alone, and slowly worked on developing his own attunement to the dispelling of all illusions. Slowly he worked towards it, and began to understand the strange occurences of his life, and even to forgive his fellow man for his isolation. But he always in his mortal form regretted not being able to experience his self-crafted illusion in culmination, the breaking of affection upon affection as wakes break upon stones. Later in life, there were a few that may have given him the chance to unfold his soul before them, and wished to share with them. But by then he was too mournful of his own isolation that their offers meant little to him. They had all had plenty of sex, and plenty of men doting on them in their youth, and did not understand why this creature could not look at them for the profoundness they would obtain, but instead saw only the mirror of his rejection in their pasts.

It is unfortunate that he never shared his soul with the world, but he helped categorize this part of existence. A note in a catalogue. A voice in an infinite choir. Sparks into ether. Friendship of foxes and cats. But there is still to wonder -- if..... If he had been with someone that he could have share with when he was still open to the experience. Would have had glowed like the candle he saw in his mind's eye? If......

He did not normally talk about himself in the third person, but did so on one occassion for something called a "craigslist ad".

this->EndEnglishTranslation(EndMemory());

* this is in or around Items->Humanity->Errata()
* no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
* yes -- ok to transmit this posting into outer space

``How fast is godspeed?' Mr. Izzard

Old notes that I've excavated from paper journals:

Reflections upon Lezlie -- Never before has the Goddess so plainly stated her approval of a Match to me, as she did with you and I. Yet I am a afrai, and I don't know why. Perhaps I am afraid that you will see the darkness of my thoughts and run away. For I am dark, though I do not turn away from the light. it is in their harmony that the Universe unfolds. Or perhaps I fea that you will change me, perhaps I am afraid that I could love you. But now I can see only shadows of what may be. I do promise I wil try to play nice, try to serve the truth and the Goddess even on my slipping slope. I'll try to share my feelings with you, even when they are dark and morbid. It is hard to truly know another person, for most of those worth knowing have learned to keep their feelings to themselves, where they are safe, but lovely, only to be reflected as a jewel reflects light. We all know these things. But do you remember them, Lezlie? Do you remember the time before time, do you remember the spells of which we are only reflections? Sparks in vacuo...

Reflections on Lilly -- Miss Lilly Cat, what is there to say? You have grown into the most loyal and familiar animal I have ever known. Know that I love you, and I wish I knew more about sharing with a familiar, as you truly are mine. The Fox and the Cat, they'll say...

[ August 13, 2005 ]:

I am almost twenty-eight years, and I'm still alone. I try so hard to be a good person ... to keep up with all the tasks that life gives me ... to be nice (or failing that, at least polite) to other people ... to look inward and outward in search of the truth. But still my life seems so dark and empty, without meaning. For my shyness, for not even feeling able to look at other people without their implied consent, it seems to me that I have done all the work in looking for a relationship. And if no one is interested in even giving me a chance, how can I go on trying? I had liked to think that I still held a lamp for those that would see, and perhaps someone would be interested enough to see through the darkness that hangs over me right now to the depth beneath. Perhaps there is more in this world than I have seen yet, but having someone to adore and someone who adores you is about all I have experienced that seemed to have any more than an echo of meaning. And to have experienced this feeling and to look to the future realizing that I will probably not again in this lifetime be able to feel thus leaves me bereft of spirit. I feel like excrement, forever doomed aside to move aside for the beautiful people to laugh at. And when I can see no meaning, what left is there for me? I am sure in the great weaving of life, when the knot in the karmic threads that is me is broken, there shall be no suffering to the pattern. But it is my life -- how am I to live alone? Do I just pretend that love doesn't exist or doesn't matter? Do I constantly reassure myself that all the couples I see everyday are not `in love', how I would define it, so I shouldn't be jealous? Or do I meditate on the sadness and try to cherish the darkness? I will endeavor to follow

[ 18 / 8 / 2005 ]:

A day from my birthday. I think my feelings are best summarized by my craigslist post:

happy birthday to me - 28
Date: 2005-08-18, 6:19AM PDT

`sing it like its going to be your last day' -- Andrew Bird

so i'm another year older... another year further away from the memories of the girl that loved me...another year closer to death. i'm sure my friend (that's right, i have ONE) would be happy to spend it with me after her boyfriend decided to take a gay romp off to vegas. yeah, he's my friend too. i fucking swear it. but i'd rather spend it wallowing in a pool of my own filth. or blood. definately a pool of something. and since no one has any thoughts of showing me love, i won't be taking any calls.

congratulations craigslist. over two years of use and i'm closer to suicide than a relationship. i'd post a picture, but i tried that last night and evidently my skinny ass is too ugly to be worth remarking over.

* this is in or around tea and razor blades
* no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
* yes -- ok to transmit this posting into outer space

[ September 9, 2005 ]:

Since CL posts now double for 'blog entries:

what more to say?

btw, before i get to the post proper, i have to share that my secret 5-letter CL word was `HUMPS' -- how utterly romantic!

I hoped I have more to say about this life and the pursuit of true love than, `I told you so.' What an empty thing to say! Devoid of meaning or any reflection of self But it is how I feel, and how I've felt for too long.

I think I would make a great lover for the right person. I said ``lover' not ``fucker', though I could probably get decent at that too if I had someone to ``practice' with that was more interested in the idea of the emotional coupling of two beings than how loud one can scream. I'm loyal, smart (at least that's what the bastard standardized tests say), devoted (to the right person anyway), most days I'm not too bitter, and maybe even artistic (I'd like to think so, anyway -- though maybe I'm just autistic).

But pulling teeth or nearly bleeding to death has been nothing to the pain of finding someone that I can love and someone that could love me. So many ships passing in the night. So many walls...

I won't pretend that I don't have any problems. Its hard for me to work on them without seeing the path to meaning. I drink. I just started tobacco again (for the record, I smoke pot, but don't consider this a problem. likewise drinking in moderation). I'm too shy to look at people on the streets, let alone buy a cute girl a drink at a bar.

I'm a ``tad' arrogant (can you tell?). And I'm a skinny 5' 8''. I never realized until I visited craigslist how important height is to most girls. Its not at all important to me. So I don't know if this qualifies as a problem or just a bias of evolution.

I generally like girls that are ambiguous with their sexuality (tomboys....Mmmmm...). Smart girls. Girls with open minds that are looking for an equal in contrast to a caretaker or a slave.

I hope that if I'm single fifteen years from now and a woman who spent her twenties going for hot sex with fashionable bad-boys asks me why I won't/can't love her, despite that she's done with her past, I will have more to say then, ``Where were you when I wrote *this CL post?' And when she replies as to which meaningless guys she was fucking, I hope I can think of something more imaginative to do than roll my eyes. I hope that when one of my guy ``friends' asked me why we didn't hang out anymore, I won't have to remind him of all the times when he was having fun at my expense and I was alone. And I hope when people ask why I spend so much time at bars (like now, writing *this) without buying that beautiful redhead (or whatever) a drink, I won't have to point out all the times I was yelled at by her boyfriend materializing out of thin air to assert ownership over his woman. Do women really like to be owned? Or do they just want attention? Or...?

This being craigslist, I guess I should mention some of my interests -- besides hanging out in bars. I like eating out. And I also like to go to restaurants. (drumroll, please) I play keyboards, bass, and theremin, just for fun (and not very well, at that), though I'm slowly trying to make semi-professional recordings (at least, as professional as ``Y Kant Tori Read'). I love taking nigh-endless walks in The City (don't you hate that term?) or in more sylvan settings. And then there's my cat -- AKA my baby -- who has been the only creature that's always been loyal and there for me when things have seemed their darkest.

So hit jaded me back if you want. If nothing else, perhaps we can drown our sorrows together.

[ September 23, 2005 ] :

Music: Tori Amos, ``Pretty Good Year''

Really down today. The woods seem like dark slavery when there is no moonlight. Wrote the following to the Pres of KQED:

Hello:

I have renewed my membership this year for $250. Maybe I regret doing it, but now that it's done I'll take my year of guilt-free radio listening for the price. Incidentally, I originally was going to renew for $100 but since my father's birthday was coming up, I did $250 so that I could get him the Frontline dvds offered and perhaps help me feel less guilty when you nag listeners for money. The dvds didn't come in time for his birthday. And I don't feel any less guilty.

In this latest pledge drive, I finally put together in my mind why I feel bad given to KQED and other public radio stations. Namely, that it is soliciting for money. I don't think its wrong to have a subtle reminder here and there that KQED is publically supported. But when pledge drive is used as essentially black mail to get memberships, then it starts to cross an ethical line for me. I'm sure that marketing research has shown that this is the most effective way to get money. But it is not the correct way to get money from me. Now, I feel like I have been used to further a cause that I don't believe in. Maybe it wasn't the intention of your station to make me feel this way. But it is how I feel. Public radio doesn't seem a gift freely given anymore.

When radio hosts like Michael Krasny complains of meals at certain restaurants going from $100 to $150, it is hard for me to feel too sympathetic for your talent. I'm a college student, and guilt got me to pledge $250 which could not longer buy two meals for Michael Krasny. But it would be several months of food for me. And when you have sponsors (or whatever term you like to use for them) like Microsoft and Kaiser Permanente -- two companies in particular that have viciously operated like modern day robber-barrons, complete with respective gifts to charity -- I wonder if we're on the same ethical page. By taking their money and reading their "ad" (whatever you call it) on the air, as far as I'm concerned you are condoning their actions.

So I just wanted to write to say good-bye. I'll listen for another year as my membership allows to the programs I like, unless the mere act of listening triggers my hypersensitive guilt. And then I'll stop listening. I'm sure my knowledge of local news and world events will suffer. But if I've learned one lesson in life -- if you feel guilty about something, its better not to do it than to try to live with or justify that guilt.

I don't really want to read a reply where you try to justify or explain your actions, or fiscal prudence, or how listener support diminishes the need for corporate sponsorship. I just wanted to let you know how I feel. Maybe there are others that feel the same way, too.

[ October 11, 2005 ]:

I went to my second AA meeting today. It was an athiest/agnostic meeting, and was a much more pleasant experience than my first AA meeting (nothing about `God' or `Him'). A woman, I think her name was Sheila, told her story. She was a lesbian and had a head injury after which she experienced some psychic stuff. I realized that some of the reason I have drunk and been depressed is because I'm an empath. I can feel what people feel. Sometimes I try to pretend I can't. It scares me. It overwhelms me. I don't know what to do with it. After the meeting, I talked to her about it. She recommended baths in epsom salts and aloe juice. It was a pretty emotional experience.

I also wrote a craigslist ad the other day. I've had a nice girl named Keri email me from it. I hope she's interested in me (she seems so), though I guess I shouldn't get my hopes up. For all of you on the edge of your seats, here it is:

cutesy and dark - 28

It seems there are lots of girls out there for cutesy-wootsy artsy-fartsy guys, and ... well, less girls out there for dark morbid morose guys. Is there any cross-over? Or am i just a genetic abomination that isn't welcome in anyone's gene pool? Not that i really want to breed all of the sudden, but well you know....sex/relationships/mating/love/vasopressin....it seems that all those things are biologically related, if not intellectually so.

So i'm a sarcastic sort of nerd. i don't have many friends, but i'd rather have a few good friends than many fair-weather friends. Having conversations with random people can be nice, but networking (social or otherwise) isn't something i value. i love cats and nature, amongst the more normal things. Music. Film. How droll! Simpson-esque humor (though I have no TV).

i'm pretty undesirable to those who go just by what their biology tells them. My job won't ever pay for that North Berkeley or Marin house. Owning things doesn't appeal to me much. Politically, i guess I'd be considered fairly liberal, though i suppose my actual leanings are closer to nihilism. I am not a bad boy. Bad boys are, imho, teenagers that learned that they can get attention and sex by acting immature. (not that i'm mature, but there are some things that even i won't do). Likewise for "professionals" and playing the fancy dress game. Biology has conspired to keep me short (5'8'') and skinny, and though i'm sure i don't get as many dates as i otherwise could have, personally i'd rather not date a girl who would lurve me based on my height.

Anyway, my faith in craigslist is pretty much gone. If my incredible luck in the last year holds, you either 1) won't respond to me; 2) mail back and forth for a bit and then disappear into the either; or 3) go on one date with me, which i may feel a connection (or not) and then you'll never contact me again, regardless of how often i email.

But if you do want to date a dark cutesy nerd, lemme know.

* this is in or around the last homely house east of the sea

April 29, 2006 --

My life is pretty dark right now. I have no girl that loves me. I have no (human) friends that want to spend time with me. I have a sponsor that doesn't return my calls. I don't trust my parents. I dislike my gender. I dislike my ethnicity. I dislike my socioeconomic background. I have no time to do anything but work.