The Land of Laughs

I haven't had a haircut since just before visiting Tennessee fifteen months ago. When I ask a certain someone what she's thinking and she says "nothing," I wonder if it's thoughts that can't be put into words, or if it's actually possible to just be in the present moment peacefully. When I lived in Nashville, I would go to Davis-Kidd bookstore often, and would intend to buy The Land of Laughs by Jonathan Carroll. Sometimes I would decide to buy something else instead; other times they would not have it on hand. It became a tradition--in hindsight I can see that after a point I would go to D-K to Not Buy the Land of Laughs.

I have been reading that book this week, and am surprised I am not reading it now. Within the book, the narrator is writing a biography. It begins: 'He didn't like tomatoes. He collected picture postcards of railroad stations. He found names of his characters in a small Missouri graveyard.' This post begins: 'I haven't had a haircut since just before visiting Tennessee fifteen months ago.' I don't think I'm ever thinking nothing. As I live and breathe, I am internally narrating myself in the style of whatever book I have been reading. Maybe this is why I'm reading thirty books at once, always. I'm not a very good writer, and the narration goes bad, and I need the change.

If I were to ammend and continue: 'I haven't had a haircut in fifteen months. My girlfriend left a notebook on my bedside table yesterday. I bought 1.5 litres of wine this morning, to continue drinking once I've finished off the bottle from the fridge. I believe every crisis is a crisis of faith, and I've been having one for at least a month now. I talk to strangers. I'm exchanging poetry with an old friend I haven't talked to in years. I'm reading a book I played tag with for years, and I'm missing a friend I've played tag with for months.'

This is how it is.

Friends came to visit! John And Cory From Phoenix. I've known John for years; I met Cory in Vermont or New York in May. They travel how I like to travel, though less often. (To be honest, they travel less often than they'd like, too.) They came in on Wednesday--the day before Thanksgiving. I met them downtown in the rain, and we wandered. We bussed home so they could deposit their backpacks, and then we walked & bussed to The Ave (picture, if you can, 4th Ave in Tucson, but with more bars and eateries). We drank to our mustaches and had shepherd's pie, and then walked the three miles home. (This is me beginning to show how much we walked while they were here.)

The next day, Jenny, John, Cory and I drove down to Kent. Michael and Bill met us there, and we had a thanksgiving meal with Jenny's family. What was I grateful for this year? That I could spend the holiday with people I consider my family, and that my mother and sister could do the same. Then we played Apples to Apples for hours, over Henry Weinhart's Root Beer (John and I are in contention over whether that or Virgil's is the best Root Beer). Fed to full, we came home and watched Dead Alive over wines.

Friday: I had to work. J&C bussed into downtown with me. As we came out of the Westlake tunnel, we witnessed the tail end of the Christmas (I'm supposing, since it was antethanksgiving) parade, and then went to Market Bagel. From there I went to work; they went to the Market. It was a beautiful, warm day. I called my step-dad, who spent the holiday with his also-divorcing sister. He said it was clear there, but very cold--in the fifties! I told him it was very warm here--in the forties. I got a mysterious text from my father: 'Hey kid - sorry to bother. Things have gotten weird here - after tonight I may not be reachable for a few days. Just wanted you to know I'm OK.' I'm wondering what that's about. He was in a coma less than a month ago.

But Saturday is where it was at. John & Cory and I left the house just before 13:00. We walked down 20 blocks to a bus stop, and decided to keep walking rather than wait the 20 minutes for the next bus. After three miles, we arrived at Beth's Cafe. Check out their menu. If you want an omelette, your options are 6-egg or 12-egg. We had both.
We bussed downtown and went to Elliott Bay Book Company, where I bought a book by Jonathan Lethem (a story, short: Every time I go to EBBC, I go directly to the bargain section, simply because it's up a staircase hidden behind other staircases in a hallway. Every time, I hope to find Land of Laughs by J Carroll. It is not there, but there is a different book By J Lethem. I buy it.)
We walked out of the store and there was a cute, old homeless lady asking for a dollar. I declined, and was instantly captured buy a man in a nice black coat with a purple gas mask, who offered to write me a poem, using my name, in 45sec. Feeling guilty over having passed the woman by, I agreed (though we were in a hurry; the Underground Tour was beginning soon). The man did write the poem quickly (using the jame I gave him: John), and then read it to me a thousand times, and then asked me to read it, and then he read it again. I gave him $5 and he asked for my $10-bill. I gave him another dollar or two or three, and then he asked John for money. John had a twenty, and they guy offered him my $5 in exchange for it. We left. I gave the old woman a dollar. Despite having the best Underground Tour yet (this was my fourth or fifth time), I didn't tip, since I'd given so much money away. To top it off, we left the tour and were captured by The Woman Who Kissed Jenny (I really ought to get her name, as I encounter her so often). (Another story, short: once I took Jenny to the movies, and we encountered this woman, homeless and crying, "please, can you just buy me some MacDonalds? I don't want money, I just want something to eat." Jenny bought her a Big Mac and fries and a shake. She kissed Jenny, and then asked me for money. Another time I encountered her, and it was winter, and her face was covered in snot. I didn't give her money, because I was afraid she'd kiss me.) She was on us so quickly that I couldn't give a heads-up, and John gave her a dollar and got hugged. Then we went to Chinatown (Cory said it's better than many of the other Chinatowns he's been to, but it never impressed me much). I bought a bottle of Sake, and John and Cory and I drank it on the bus to Queen Anne. I was reminded of my first trip to Seattle.
We ate at Dick's, which was good. I'd avoided it because people talk about it in the same tone as In-and-Out Burger, which I loathe. But yeah, good burgers, and cheap, and fast. Then we reverse-traced the steps Leslie and Garrett and I once took, walking this time from Seattle Center to near Westlake, and then bussed to Fremont, where John and Cory took many pictures of Lenin, the Train Stop, the Clowns, the Troll, and Gas Works Park. The view of the skyline from Gas Works was simply incredible. The water of Lake Union reflected the city-lit sky and oh-but-there-are-no-words.
From Gas Works we walked back to Stone Way and north until we caught a bus which took us to NE80th & N1st so we could gauge how long it would take J&C to walk there to catch the bus at 04:00 the next morning, to get to the airport in time for their 08:15 flight. We got home at 23:50. Other than an cumulative hour eating, and 30 minutues collected riding the bus, we'd walked for nearly twielvce hours.

Perhaps enough to walk off those omelettes.

Teach the Contoversy?

In September 2007, I attended a talk by Geshe Michael Roach and Lama Christie McNally (you can listen to the talks as mp3s here), on the subject of Spiritual Partners. It was a cool concept made even cooler by the fact that that's what I already had going on in my life at that time. (The gist: find a partner and work together toward the goal of peace, essentially playing motivator & conscience to each other.)

Over the past week, I've been listening to several of these recordings, and this has revolutionized (and, frankly, improved) how I see my current relationship. I've been thinking and talking about the ideas discussed in these talks and recomending specific talks to individual people, because I think there's good advice in them.

And then, when just now looking for these recordings again, I came across this site. "The aim of this site is to provide an open forum for discussion and examination of Geshe Michael Roach. This web site is intended to make the general public aware of the controversy, its causes, and why it has come about."

Among the information provided:
"in September 2005, a teacher of Geshe Michael Roach, Gyumed Khensur Rinpoche Lobsang Jampa, from Sera Mey, advised Geshe Michael Roach that he should either disrobe or behave like a monk (in terms of his "consort" Christie McNally , his hair and other vows)."

"Geshe Michael Roach has taken Christie McNally as his "Consort" or spiritual Partner. He has recently also surrounded himself at Diamond Mountain with those he describes as his "four Dakinis"... Lady Ora, Lady Christie, Lady Pelma and Lady Trisangma. The title "Lady" was granted by Geshe Michael Roach himself (in writing on the Diamond Mountain Tantra Course notes), and has the meaning of "Dakini"."

It is also considered that Geshe Michael Roach is effectively starting a cult.

So yeah, he's quite a controversial guy. But isn't the Dalai Lama as well? Wasn't the Buddha himself? Anyway, there was no real point to this, other than to give full disclosure regarding all these talks I've been recommending. Regardless of whether the man is a mad cult leader, or a seriously wise teacher, there's no such thing as a bad thing to learn so long as you commit to learning with wisdom and healthy scepticism. So there ya go!

so they say...

http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2009/10/01/happier/
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/01/19/AR2006011903124.html

We Walk the Unerring Path

'Being who we are begins with where are.'
Where am I? I'm in an apartment that I no longer live in. I'm sitting in a bath, still hot enough after an hour to produce steam. I have a couple of beers in me, and what I'm looking at is the steam as it swirls around my breath.

'Being where we are is easy when the experience is pleasant.'
I'm in this apartment, because I've loved living in this apartment. When I moved in here, I felt "at home" for the first time since 1999. To say that I look forward to what comes next does not mean I'm happily abandoning what's been. It HAS been easy to be here. Jenn and Josh and I watched TV, played video games, BS'ed. In the new place, the only time I've felt comfortable is when we broke out the N64 and played Mario Kart. I've become accustomed to the sedimentary lifestyle, like I was in Tennessee. As the subject of my last entry said: 'back to the drawing board.'

'When we encounter adverse circumstances, we often take the situation personally, and we lose confidence and faith in ourselves. Yet, when we can work with unfavorable circumstances, that is the very time when the quality of our life as a path, rather than a fixed destination, can manifest.'
In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard observed, "Ever since the Creation it has been accepted practice for the outcome to come last; if anyone is really to learn something from the great it is precisely the beginning one must attend to." This is the beginning. It is not what it is becoming, it is what it is. It is where I am.

back to the drawing board

Wow, no posts in over three months?! Some adventure blog this is. It's the case, however, that my life is less an adventure than I set out for it to be. I've become docile... but rather than bolting out the door as soon as I realized this, I decided to see it as a different kind of adventure. I'm in a relationship. We're moving in together in a few weeks. We'll have a cat. I have a 9-5/m-f job. I am more "normal" than I've probably ever been in my life. It hurts. I want to cry. But it's what I'm choosing. I am not unhappy. I am open to the idea that this could be the wrong choice. But it bristles against my comfort barrier, it pushes and breaks me. In short, within this small new world, I am experiencing what I enjoy the most out in the wild. Wish me luck!

fbook

Court Anonymous is riding a train through rain.
6:58pm · Comment · LikeUnlike · Show Feedback (10)Hide Feedback (10)
You like this.
Adam Anonymous at 7:05pm April 28
Hopefully not in Spain...or on a plain...and certainly not with Mark Twain.
Crystal Anonymous at 7:08pm April 28 via Facebook Mobile
...in pain?
Sarah Jo Anonymous at 7:17pm April 28
or down the lane...
Sally Anonymous at 8:53pm April 28
with butaine.
Court Anonymous at 8:58pm April 28 via Facebook Mobile
I've nothing to obtain, yet everything to gain.
Sally Anonymous at 8:59pm April 28
on the train, in the rain.
Court Anonymous at 9:04pm April 28 via Facebook Mobile
Thank you all for sculpting this poem with me. It shall be blog'd.
Melissa Anonymous at 11:02pm April 28
i tried in vain to contain the last refrain, but i'm not quite sane
Jayne Anonymous at 3:35am April 29
...and neither is Jayne.
Sarah Jo Anonymous at 8:03am April 29
Glad this didn't turn out lame!
Chris Anonymous at 10:09am April 29
As far as being lame, at least *I* am free from blame.
Sarah Jo Anonymous at 11:07am April 29
^^ was that a remark on my game?
Robert M. P. Anonymous IV at 11:46am April 29
time to drain the main vein

hardly anything

I hate times like this, and yet it seems my life is willed with nothing but: I have a lot on my mind, and things half-written in my head (to the point that, by typing them up, they would complete themselves), and yet I have less time than I'd require to do something.

Thing is, it's been lovely here, the weather. And good weather stikes my mood up a notch or ten. I've been sick lately, and yesterday was the first day I've really felt better, and so yesterday and today I've been up & about, early.
Today's goal was to get a Washington State driver's license. My current, TN card's photo looks nothing like me now (the traveling years have done me good... the picture was taken two years ago, and in it I look years older than I do now), so as an ID it's hardly useful. And of course, there's the fact that I've been living in Seattle for nearly a year.
I checked the website, and it said I needed proof of identification, proof of residence, and my SSN. I arrived with my TNDL, a letter from the US Treasury (explaining that, rather than sending me my tax refund, they are applying it to my debt), and my SS card. Turns out, that's not enough.
Proof of ID requires a DL and something else... for example, a high school yearbook. I think that's hilarious. What's really cool is, even though I live thousands of miles from my hometown, I do live with someone I went to high school with, and she does have a yearbook. What's unfortunate is, it's from the year after I graduated. Hurm.
So I dunno what I'll do, but this'll happen.

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Completely new subject: Twitter. How the hell did it become such a big deal? I considered dropping it when Oprah joined it, mostly because someone I follow twitted about it, and I thought it absurd. But I like Twitter for what I use it for--little haiku-like blogs. I enjoy having to search for just the right words to fit a whole day or story into 140 characters. Oprah can do what she wants; that's not my Twitter.
I do feel a little stalkerish, though, following Neil Gaiman's son. But I do. Because he mentioned his mum. Neil never mentions her on his blog. I can understand why--she probably doesn't want strangers having an insight to her life via some else's words. However, it makes me a little sad. And I'm not sure why. So when I saw Micahel Gaiman make a small reference to her, I twitter-followed him. Maybe that's a little more than stalkerish, though.

There's another account I follow that I really love. Last week I overheard someone on the bus ask someone else if they had rubber tubing. This account, @overheardist, searches for twits using the word "overheard," and broadcasts them. They posted my rubber tubing story, and that's how I came across them. Today's gem: RT @baratunde: "Overheard at dinner: imagine if in your job you couldn't get anything done and what you did get done was f**king stupid."

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Anyway, now I'm getting ready for work.
Have a good day!