Psychic Tremors

I've been thinking quite a lot today...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 05:47:00 +0000

I've tapped into something greater
much further than before
far beyond, too removed
to mind about the score
Perhaps it's to my detriment
right here upon this plane
and i no longer fear death
i'm feeling what's its core

...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:15:00 +0000

Not to sound old, but gee they don't make 'em like they yousta!

enjoy!

I've always been crazy...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 19:36:00 +0000

to my own delight and despair
and ultimate detriment
sorry, but it's true
(as if there were ever a question)

i think we all are, though
just in individualized flavors
some are better at hiding from it than others
is it weakness?
we seem to agree that it is
use it to write off credibility
dismissing occasional mirrors

the most intelligent folks i've ever met
all suffer from these demons
some more than others
perhaps what the bible said was right
about eating from the tree of knowledge
entering a living hell;
gazing into the abyss -
and the torture when it finds you there

all that's to be done is keep fighting
keep trying to not exhale negativity into this world
though it never ceases to take over, at times

else simply be blind, guarded and numb
how's that living?

found this interesting article (with more interesting links within) on our brain-body connection and so on.

Take it away, Waylon!

forgotten found snow art

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 17:04:00 +0000

48

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 21:12:00 +0000

Remembering Italy, part III

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 18:59:00 +0000

Despite having a ton of other projects that are far more important, I remain fixated on this. Yeah yeah yeah, I know. Hoping to pump this out and move on. Keep moving. Stick and run.

I
II

As the train pulled away, my 3 hours of sleep finally sunk in, bringing out all the terrifying realities of this isolation and ineptitude like a shovel to my forehead. My first reaction was obviously to call her. Sadly, that was a wasted endeavor – I was in such a state, I didn't begin to consider a country code, I just kept trying and retrying the contact number, which would proceed to connect us, allow me to hear her voice, then cut right out. At this point in my head I felt exactly like Roger Ferris, upon learning of the capture of Aisha. So we both jumped to texting. I eventually caught on to the train system, and boarded the next one, making an entire car uneasy with my own distraught manner. I realize how idiotic it seems, but when we found each other in the crowded Roma Termini, it truly was one of these moments...

We ride the rails through the countryside of Italy and Tuscany to Florence, in one of the most beautiful scenic rides imaginable. When we grab the cab upon arrival, we encounter one of the great comic book scenes of my life - our cabbie is instantly screaming and flailing arms uncontrollably at everyone, including stopping and pulling up alongside cars to argue in person. Some of this I have on tape. It's beautiful, they stop and yell at each other, then carry on as if nothing happened. No baggage, time is time, move on. We arrive in an area on the waterfront, surrounded by Africans selling bootlegged purses on blankets. I would soon come to learn that these are the only black people in the entire country.

Finally we find our beautiful hotel, which to me seems oddly placed, as its entrance is located in what appears to me to be a 'rape cove'. Of course I'm probably wrong about this, the hotel is quaint yet amazing, with a beautiful rooftop view of the river. I can't complain.

said 'rape cove' in daylight - imagine this with no light!

One interjection of love for Europe: most folks still smoke. I love this. I respect and uphold all our new laws regarding smoking, ultimately thinking Bloomberg is a genius guru for dreaming this up any time I wake up the morning following a night out carousing and not feeling the pain from smoking ten times more than usual. But at the same time, it was wonderful to be in a place where I didn’t feel like Satan for lighting up. As a matter of fact, the number of times I could count people smoking right next to ‘No Smoking’ signs with polizia standing right next to them is countless.

Despite the jet lag and lack of sleep, it's still fairly early, so we decide to go back out. We chose to meander around aimlessly (big mistake), only to lose direction in a very windy city, where street markings are few and far between, not finding our way back for many hours. As frightening as it is to not know about your whereabouts or well-being, I always love it. It is – still – at this point, a true ‘enamored by Europe’ moment. The freedom of not even knowing your bearing, combined with the beauty of Florence, what could be better? We strolled into a friendly restaurant for dinner. I had some sort of amazing cured meat and cheese plate, along with some bourbon – OF COARSE, and we’re loving life. I'm a believer that Florence is about the most beautiful city in the world. We continue wandering, lost, taking in caffe and the most brilliant gelato you will ever imagine. Stroll into the vino shop to procure a bottle of - oh did I leave out that we're right in Tuscan wine country, and my favorite of all favorites is, in fact, Sangiovese? - exactly. I believe Chianti is what the region is known for, but I'm also pretty sure that Chianti is a blend from Sangiovese and others. I'm now in heaven with my baby, that's all that's needed to be said.

We eventually find our way back to the hotel, vino in hand, to end this monumental day in the best manner possible. Rooftop lounging, followed by many things I'll never write of. That's just too personal. :)

Italia, parte seconda: Taken

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 20:57:00 +0000

1

As we’re in line to board our plane, each and every question I could ever have about European hatred lies in the family standing right in front of us. Certainly, we’ve all come to grievance with our population’s willfulness to sprawl out in public any way they see fit –taking shoes off and placing bare feet on seats, answering phones during movies, etc. I feel the European disdain as everyone is standing in line; calm, collected, patient – except this Long Island family, acting like the Kardashians with cameras on them. Yes, I feel it’s safe to say that everyone in line wanted to stab them, but they didn’t...

This next part should alarm you. Alitalia is trapped in time. The staff dress in formal green suits, and they rock them hard! And they’re friendly! As I realized all my overhead space had been swiped by the family not even sitting remotely close to us, I panicked. So, this is the moment I need to work in Italian with no help, less the week or so spent going over phrases that immediately disappears when put on the spot. Nope! The steward actually senses my panic, and I explain to him the situation. Rather than chastise me, the way I’ve witnessed on every flight I’ve ever been on, he thinks for a moment and simply waves me to follow him… to.the.staff’s.personal.storage!

“Come see me in the morning, they’re safe.”

Sadly, this high of human friendliness would only last about ten seconds, because I am about to meet the most obnoxious, angry person I’ve ever encountered on a plane – and of course he’s sharing our block of seats. On the aisle, and he’s sleeping. I excuse myself to take my seat, at which point he begins yelling in Italian to some passengers, who I later learn are his family – for a good twenty minutes. I have no idea what was said, but was able to piece together that he was offended because I didn’t address him in Italian and in the customary way. Fulfilling the annoying stereotype, this is what it looked like. This man was so awful I can’t even write about it without flying into a rage.

Morning finally arrives. Yay, howdy doo, we are in Rome. Everything’s different, all is weird – you know the drill. For my very first observation, I will need to use the ‘I’m a man’ card. The women, that’s what. It’s not to say that I was surrounded by Monica Bellucci, but there is some sort of phenomenon, one that allows even a ‘5’ to somehow seem as attractive as say, a’ 7’, and so on.

Thank Jehosaphras my wife did a bit of prep work – they do things very differently. When we planned this trip, we were to be staying with people and have a bit of chaperoning, but they broke up, and our friend was not even going to Italy now. This is not my first time in a land that speaks little English, but my weak Spanish carried me the other time. I even had a special app to translate, and still was weakened and mortified. I truly gained a huge amount of respect for ALL of our immigrants. People are not nice when they don’t understand you. I’ve always been the guy who, when a foreigner politely needing help approaches, always tries to at least guide them somewhere. Here, they were few and far between, the saints.

Finally, we are at the right place to get our train, and it’s there. We run to make sure to catch it, and do. I notice two other men also running for it. I was a bit confused by the absence of conductors; I’m so used to seeing them standing around, waiting for the time. My wife climbs up the high stairs and turns around as I boost her luggage up to her.

That’s when the doors close on me. I pound on the door, nothing happens. I proceed to yank my arm out, just in time to stare through the glass and view the horrific expression on my wife’s face as the train slowly pulls away without me.

I'm pounding and yelling to no response. Time stops. Everything turns to slow motion. I see the other men pounding on the train also, screaming – they understand what has just happened. The train does not care.

We are now separated and alone.

nothing to see here...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 06:50:00 +0000

fuck cancer, that's all...just putting it out there for creationist purposes...

Remembering Italy, part I

noreply@blogger.com (John Meadows) — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 20:33:00 +0000

So, this last little stretch of winter has outright sucked. What to do? Revert to the most recent very good times, aside from the odds and ends in between. I am finally going to stop procrastinating and write of my recent trip to Italy. I recently stumbled into this nifty little idea, which served as a catalyst as well. Borrowing from that idea, I will keep each part of this series to around 750 words. Let’s rewind to November 2009. That’s about the time it all started… (editing note: it's not great, I must admit.)

…The entire reason for this trip had a lot to do with us having a friend in Italy with whom we’d stay. We had planned this several months prior, and now it was time to obtain my passport. This was no easy feat, as I still possessed a driver’s license from Oregon, and am not legally allowed to drive. Not because of any sort of legal issue, mind you, but (I’m forced to follow through as if you don’t know) because of some stupid little seizures I’ve had (^waaah). Because of this, I had to not only file for a passport, but also a New York State ID prior to that. I did these things, in a legal, proper manner. That’s exactly why and when things went to hell.

^ side note: I’ve been using this ‘waaah’ for awhile now, but feel obligated to credit it to Mr. Arthur Lange, whose usage of it has actually helped me out in life quite a bit. You could use a lot of this yourself these days, Artie. Get well. Waaah.

I was immediately flagged on the passport, just as I am continually flagged by every bureaucratic office (not to worry, I’m not taking lives over it like that other guy). I received a letter only a week after my application went through – basically forcing me to prove my entire existence. The following week was me tearing the entire apartment apart for records. And I did. All in all, I believe I mailed back to them approximately 20-25 pages of documentation. They even forced me to photocopy things from my high school yearbook. (THANKS! MY SHRINK WILL BE BUSY NOW!)

I eventually had to take matters into my own hands, and when they found my return application, it was at the bottom of a pile about three months of work long. Thanks again! (op-ed section) When everyone complains of the government, they really need to focus this hate towards the system, which is an absolute failure in logistics from the ground on up. I don’t even blame the assholes who fill the seats. I’d be the same if I were them – they’re patsies. That is the entirety of the problem - the machine, and lack of any responsibility within the ranks – always pointing back at the machine’s rules. (noplanecrash)

So, I receive my passport about five days ahead of our big trip. Before I realize it, I am at JFK’s International terminal. I’ve been to so many airports in my life, but this place was from a dream – not a Sbarro’s in sight! Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. We’d been warned it was swanky, and it makes sense – Europeans who travel here are all seemingly rich, according to JFK. Of the few stores, the prices are about twice the average gouge, not to mention the fact that you’ve never heard of anything in sight, less the lone Hudson News.

So we’re in the waiting area, among few other Americans. One thing that brought hope to me was a Euro-child who was overjoyed in running around the airport dragging along a yo-yo, not even using it properly. Given my usual distraught over the typical child bored with their PSP, this actually inspired me. As time passed, we became hungry and such. That’s about when we moved over to one of the two bars in this area.

This bar was awful. Not only was it not a bar, more of a cafe, and the bartender was a Frenchman who was undecipherable by anyone - a French Ozzy. He was not far from your average Regal Beagle type bartender – not at all from this century – and with that French ‘Je ne sais quoi’. We ordered our drinks, 20 minutes passed, and we realized he’d forgotten completely. We eventually got them, but had to down them in order to board our overnight flight.

See? kinda floppy with no payoff, like a $2 lapdance. It will get better, it has to.

We come from the land of the ice and snow...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 21:22:00 +0000

Epic Weard Man

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 12:48:00 +0000

...dammit, they really COULD use a good shine, right? (all this G/D salt!) I asked, but nobody's listening.

phase III

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 21:45:00 +0000

third panel in place, still unfinished

phase II

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 04:17:00 +0000

phase II of my LP wall/paper-mâché project - still wet and held in place by the CD rack.

VII-VIII

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 05:39:00 +0000

VI

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 19:26:00 +0000

V

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 12:44:00 +0000

I found an odd connection...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 05:09:00 +0000

I'm not saying I'm right, I'm just sayin'...

Thank you, Sean, for planting this seed. I can't even begin to express the concepts or thoughts I'm feeling at the moment. Talk about unconsciousness colliding. This is too much. I won't get into it, but it's so heavy I can't even put it into words.

wow...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 04:24:00 +0000

This is completely insignificant, but for some reason I stumbled upon wiki-ing my birthday. I'm quite proud to share it with the following notables:

Abu Rayhan Biruni
King Louis VIII
Date Masamune
Tommaso Campanella
King Louis XIV
Jack Daniel (big figuring, that one!)
Jesse James
John Cage
Werner Herzog
Freddie Mercury
Buddy Miles
Dweezil Zappa

there are so many more, I just found this interesting. Although I've never risen to any of the aforementioned's levels, in some ways many things make a lot of sense to me in ways I can't describe. Sure, I left out Rachel Welch and George Lazenby, among others, but I figure, why bother? We all know I'm super hot and only good for one Bond moment. I suggest everyone do this. Feel free to let me know what you find.

IV

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 03:02:00 +0000

"MMX IV", wood

III

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 01:55:00 +0000

"MMX III", wood

(MMX I and II in previous post)

...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 16:32:00 +0000

checking in...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 05:22:00 +0000

so, i've been taking a time-out from the internet. focusing on things more hands-on. just an fyi...
no FB, Tweeting, RSS...makes Jack a more stable boy...internets were starting to feel like this.

...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 05:50:00 +0000

i

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 21:40:00 +0000

end Chapter I, MMX...

noreply@blogger.com (Psychic Tremors) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 03:26:00 +0000

So this is it, huh? I'm hoping that Chapter II is also part of the setting that is the story of MMX, because Chapter I set a fairly dismal tone, with a few wonderful moments. I have not lost any hope.
I feel cheated, really, and I'm angry - but the good kind, the kind that makes you take a stand.

I'm not sure about yours, but here's how mine went:

First two plus weeks of MMX I'm very ill with the flu, to the point that although I'm still trying my best to produce, I'm barely functioning.

Second two weeks of MMX I'm still feeling the wrath of it, all of my late 09 momentum has eluded me, and I'm feeling stuck. Since we're not lying here, I must confess - despite my fleeting attempts at staving it off and keeping up a strong front, this has caused a great affect on my psyche. I feel in complete disconnect with everything, the entire world - despite participating. I haven't returned calls because I don't feel like talking. I put up the good emailing front, but even there I'm failing. Spinning plates and getting nowhere, folks.

WELL, OF COARSE iTunes punched me again today - it pooped out another thing I did when I was feeling the same way, which was right about the time everything fell apart, mid-2007. So, I decided to attempt something positive and make something with it. I'm not allowing anything to take me out like that did. It's not anything spectacular, but bottom line is I'm just pushing forward. That's the only way. I will never return to the hell of rumination that was my 2007-2008. Think positive, act positive, be positive - else remain suffering. Acknowledge the truth and deal with it - take little steps at self-improvement and be vigilant, then move on. Make it our bitch, because it's trying to take us down. We'd do the same to protect those we love, and all we have is ourselves. So how can we stand idly by and let life take us down? Of course many have it easier, although far more have it worse. Of course nobody understands us, only we understand ourselves. Of course the world is ending, but will we go down stuck and confused, sad and easily - HELL NO!
(I'm actually speaking to myself here, Stewart Smalley-style - apologies)
-end 'Rorschach's log'