A Solar Eclipse // Spoken Word

Depending on how you look at it, this could either be about the love of a lifetime or the love of a double-bacon cheeseburger from Five Guys after spending eighteen years eating coca leaves in the Peruvian rainforest. For either the sake of specific person or for nothing in particular, there’s no mistaking when you’ve got -that feeling- for -that something-. It’s the ignition that turns a desire into a dream, or at least an idea into a really, really good try. Absolutely no guarantee of success, but even less chances of denial. It transcends relationships and morphs into what defines you as a person: body, soul, and all that weird stuff in-between.

I always cheer up immensely if an attack is particularly wounding because I think, well, if they attack one personally, it means they have not a single political argument left.

Originally posted on Don Charisma:


«I always cheer up immensely if an attack is particularly wounding because I think, well, if they attack one personally, it means they have not a single political argument left.»

– Margaret Thatcher


DonCharisma.com-logo-4 Charisma quotes are sponsored by DonCharisma.com – you dream it we built it … because – “anything is possible with Charisma”

View original

Have You Ever Had One of THOSE Days?

McCheesus:

LIFE.

Originally posted on Good Time Stories:

Have you ever had one of those days that you feel like you are doing the same thing over and over and over? Seems like we humans aren’t the only things that this kind of stuff happens to!

Have an awesome day…and hang in there!!

View original

A Night in Electric Bollywood: Part 0.5

IMG_3848

 

Have you ever felt like you’re so in the moment that it’s like an out of body experience? A feeling of being so absorbed into your surroundings that, in a surreal way, it’s like you’re in a different dimension?

 

With or without substances, nobody’s on trial here.

 

Being lost in the crowd with my new acquaintance became a situation I wasn’t prepared for. The absurdity of the situation melted into the oddest level of clarity, and with the lips of a woman whose name I didn’t know on my collarbone, I felt like I’d been there before.

 

Here’s the funny thing about déjà vu; it’s actually a brain spasm.

 

The neurons in your brain short-circuit out for a second, like a computer glitch, and your perception of the present moment gets rattled like a marble in a fish bowl. You’re still spatially aware of your surroundings, but your mind’s gone for a jog around the block; as it comes ‘round the corner, it remembers that it left your body behind, and it sees you in the present moment with an odd sense of familiarity.

 

I knew absolutely no one in my peripheral vision, but that realization brought forth an understanding that no one knows everybody. Every single one of us, model citizens and degenerates, were unified by the commonality of being surrounded by strangers. From the tight-knit groups to the belligerent punch-drunk fighters, we were all agents of the chaos of the night.

 

Ultimately, this ain’t so remarkable.

 

It’s like your GPS finally establishing an internet connection and giving you accurate coordinates for your position. Your brain can travel everywhere from Malibu to Afghanistan over the course of the day because of what you read on your smartphone or see in the news, but when it finally comes home to your head, you get star-struck.

 

I think the reason this happens is because, most of the time, we go places without actually being there. We walk out while plugged in, hearing sounds and seeing sights without actually understanding what everything around us really implies.

 

When our little mental microcosms get rolled out into the sunlight, though, we’re really awake for the first time. When we’re in the present moment, we’re taking a little vacation from the day-to-day illusion of our own sense of being. We stop being ourselves and start being apart of all that us, which is nothing more than what is: We become elements of the planet itself instead of our safety zones as individuals.

 

I’m not saying anything groundbreaking here. There’s been more wisdom found at the bottom of a cup of cactus juice pertaining to this topic than I can type right now. Call it insight, call it common sense, call it a mystical experience; it all amounts to a discovery that, in truth, is something you’ve known all along.

 

A few gin and tonics in the tank were satisfactory fuel for an engine of sensory overload; for some reason, free drinks just seem to hit harder. There’s no stake to them, no sacrifice, so you hesitate less to let contents escape into your blood.

 

I didn’t know if my generous drink-provider-slash-dance-partner was feeling anything similar, but she was feeling comfortable enough to speak into my ear rather than to my face. When words get spoken close enough to your skin, the connotations are palpable.

 

You can almost feel intentions carried in the air that drove the words from the speaker’s throat; it was a warm caress with a pinch of ice, like a serpent made of sweet incense smoke, razor blades wrapped in silk.

 

“I like you.”

 

The feeling was mutual.

 

A Night in Electric Bollywood: Part 0

IMG_3823

 

There’s a certain point in the night at which time becomes something like maple syrup that’s caught midway between the base of the bottle and the lip of the dispenser; no ability to discern exactly how long its been moving along so far, just a sweet mixture of timeless lackadaisical indulgence and a buzzing anxiety for some kind of imminent gratification.

 

And if you’re not careful in how you handle this decadent moment caught in time, you just might wind up needing to wash your hands.

 

I don’t remember exactly where on the dance floor I met her, but that may be attributed to the fact that meeting her never registered as a real mental directive in the very first place.

 

Sometimes you go into a situation with no expectations and still wind up with the fruits of something planted by a person with all the intentions in the world; in this scenario, we are the ill-deserved dinner guests of Queen Fate tasked with making a good impression while still in her fleeting good graces.

 

Judging by the unrelenting pressure of immaculately preened nails on my waistline, I’d have to assume that so far I must have been doing something right.

 

We had come as a group, and now many groups from all stretches of the metropolitan jungle had become one amorphous dance in this neon cave of $13 Long Island Iced Teas.

 

I did wonder how my walk-in mates were faring, but my stranger in company was determined to promote herself to ‘acquaintance’ at an alarming rate, so I let the music substitute my stream of consciousness a bit longer.

A Night in Electric Bollywood – Part 1

I had one foot placed on the floor on a Rhode Island-bound limousine, and the other foot undecidedly planted on ashen Manhattan pavement.

 

The high notes of muffled Hindi music did cartwheels out into the urban ether as a half-hearted cadence for shambling, heavily intoxicated undead.

 

My eyes surveyed a 5’5” cavalcade of spousal frustration beckoning me “come” from the leather-seated void, my back saluted a tribe of mirthful bouncers blessing me “go”, and my sides were flanked by four sisters doing everything in their power to prevent their fifth from completing her metamorphosis into a “stealthily polygamous” werecougar by the light of the full moon.

I’d known them all for 90 minutes at best, and the driver was getting pissed.

 

So like most nightlife expeditions, this was an exercise in education, with no other teacher than fate; the teachers’ aides just happened to be various degrees of hard alcohol.

 

A wholesome, all-inclusive crash course for the world’s most proactive, courageous, best-dressed and consistently forgetful students. From the way things where shaping up to be, I was either about to receive massive extra credit points, or an unforgiving, potentially bullet-heavy expulsion.   It was the bloodshot, unblinking eye in a perfect storm of less-than-reputable decisions made throughout the night.

Six Facts About Our Home, Planet Internet

(Statistics pulled from Leadbuster: The Ultimate Affiliate Marketing Strategy Guide. )

 

  • 81% of all people report using the Internet every week
  • 77% of all people using the Internet will use a search engine
  • 63% of all people using the Internet will use some form of social media
  • From 2003 to 2011, the amount of people who have reported using a computer for leisure time (excluding email and work-related matters) nearly doubled. (From 8% to 14%)
  • From 2003 to 2011, the amount of time that people have reported to spend socializing offline has fallen from an average of 41 minutes to 37 minutes
  • Over 75% of people report making purchases based on research conducted with their smartphones

 

Undeniably, every single one of you reading this at one point likely falls into one of two camps: either you’re familiar with the Internet, or you’re a hyper-intelligent golden retriever that’s learned how to power on the computer and open up an Internet browser.

 

I know you got into the garbage today. Shame on you.

 

If you fall into the first camp, though, I don’t have to give you any kind of dissertation on how big the internet is right now. Matter of fact, if by the end of this post you can give me a fact that blows my mind about how big the internet is, I’ll send you penny through Paypal. Swear on my sunglasses.

 

I can’t say that I was ever skeptical, but I certainly learned to believe in a dimension separate from our own; one that’s entirely flesh and thread and plastic and burger wrappers, and the other that has all of that, plus the infinity of shared human consciousness.

 

Neither one of those is the Internet, by the way. I’m a Buddhist. We’re all about that weird version of the world that’s not only physical. Don’t get me wrong, physical stuff’s pretty dang legit, but so is other stuff; like, for instance, the equalizer of the human experience and emancipation from despair through doing nice stuff.

 

You know, if you’re into that kinda thing.

 

The Internet is no replacement for this big ol’ pretty ball of dirt and lightning and FM radio we call ‘Earth, but it’s become one hell of a representation. If you had told me four years ago, when I was homeless in Long Island and pinching my nickels to ration out vending machine grocery trips, that one day I’d be eating lobster tempura sushi just for using the computer, I’d probably think you were just a hallucination from hunger.

 

Well you’re no a hallucination; at least, I don’t think. I have no way of knowing, and I’m not prejudiced against hallucinations. Left-hand shakers, sure, but not hallucinations.

 

Going from haggle-for-a-bus-ride broke to paying for my first semester of college out of pocket, for one of those mystical internet jobs, still seems kinda fishy even though I’ve become living proof of it. That’s just how surreal it is. I was one of those overthinking, slightly-underachieving but still good-GPA-earning kids with a penchant for doing homework; my path in life was kinda copy and paste “set” for all intents and purposes, at least until graduate school.

 

I don’t spend my days walking up and down the street wearing nothing but LCD monitors over my shame and preaching about the end of the world as we know it. (fyi)

 

I don’t because it already happened. The job market, as most people know it, not only will never be the same, but it HASN’T been the same for the last ten years or so. It’s different because it’s just not as important anymore.

 

Necessary? For some, hell yes. The only option? Hell no. These buzz words like resume, application, interview and “fired” skip through the air like belligerently drunk pixies in an abandoned winery.

 

You get nipped and pimp-slapped by them forever, until you choose to stop believing in them.

 

Then what?

 

Then you get the hell out of that winery and walk yourself to a proper establishment of your choice.

 

But hey, I’m not here to make you use your imagination. That’s illegal. Just remember that no matter where you are, the net is under your feet and above your head. You can either perceive this as being trapped by it, or you can draw on it as a source of infinite, unprecedented power.

Even if you’re just a hyper-intelligent golden retriever who can’t really read this but knows how to turn on the computer and open an internet browser.

 

 

Internetstronauts

From 2003 to 2011, the amount of time that people have reported to spend socializing offline has fallen from an average of 41
minutes to 37 minutes.
 

So that internet thing, right?

Apparently a lot of people use it, but how many of us have actually seen it?

How do we even know it even exisufobeovubvnfv-

Sorry about that. Keyboard got hijacked by the schizophrenic hobgoblin squatting in my attic. Bastards have magic that can bypass computer security. You pour some water on them and they disintegrate for about 40 minutes, but anything they type stays there for good.

Hobby had a point though.

We see things on the internet, and with the horrible miracle of smartphones, you can even put it in your pocket.

But to the dismay of every disgruntled old Texan man that’s ever made a vow to do so, you cannot just walk out and unplug or break the internet. You put a 9 iron through your monitor because it freezes on a refrigerator ad, you’re just gonna succeed in hurting your bank account and raising your blood pressure.

I’ve seen it. It’s funny.

We have to take a sober eye towards some really, for real stuff though; the online job market as transmogrified into something both ephemeral and completely physical. 80% of all millionaires living in America right now are first-generation rich, and the ability to post an advertisement on free for Facebook has probably had a hand in that.

By probably, I mean definitely.

In the past, we were afraid of machines taking away jobs from people. With the emergence of the tertiary job market, humankind was able to make a ‘comeback’ by making money through stuff that isn’t really tangible stuff. (Psychological therapy, real estate, psychological therapy for realtors who realize they practice real estate)

Through human to human service, people can do things that machines can’t, for better pay.

That’s pretty damn sweet. Except when it isn’t.

We have an educational system that pushes out man-kids and woman-kids to fall into the service job niche cleanly, like a conveyor belt twisting the cap on bologna cans.

It works for some, it doesn’t work for others, but for many people, it’s just the way that it works.

Or at least, the way it should work.

People are always looking for answers to ways that they can break the mold in their careers without actually breaking off from their careers, and truth is, they don’t have to. No one actually has to.

The idea of jobs being done by machines was as threatening as it was intriguing. Some people found it frightening that an inanimate system could devalue their physical effort as a worker, the thing that made them secure in their place in society.

 Stephen Hawking himself expressed fear at the notion of complete artificial intelligence; something so brilliant, self-sustaining and flexible that it may be completely out of our control by the time its fully realized.

 

Whether or not you believe in the notion of artificial intelligence, a beast has nonetheless been created. The beast we’ve created exists on the digital plane, and though it can’t be touched, observed, heard or smelled, it’s powerful far beyond even the wildest beasts of our imaginations.

We can’t observe it directly, but we can see the result of its impact. The concept of upward mobility has been thrown completely on its head, and now, every single member of society with access to a computer wields firepower formerly only allowed to million dollar corporations with fortunes to spend on advertising.

The speed at which we can exchange ideas, have our ideas funded and reach out to the masses is so phenomenal that it seems dreamlike.

 It’s no surprise that so many are so skeptical, despite the ever-growing mountain of evidence that self-employment online is more than just a nice idea; it’s a reality!

 

An Honest and Polite Letter

Dear human,

It’s me! How are things? Hope this year treats you well! I mean wow, you’re a real jackwagon. Just the absolute worst. You know how there’s a difference between ‘cold’ and ‘absolute zero’? You know, absolute zero, the state at which it isn’t thermodynamically possible for gas to become even a single decimal digit colder? Replace cold with ‘lame’ and ‘absolute zero’ with you.

You are, like, if the concept of stubbing your big toe and the concept of hitting your funny bone had a baby together, and Michael Bay worked with M. Night Shyamalan to make a movie about that baby.

You are like a lemonade stand selling abandonment issues for exact change, and the price ends with an odd number. You are like a personified, unskippable Youtube advertisement wearing white skinny jeans after labor day while walking on the grass.

And then you step right on into someone’s house with those grassy shoes, and you insult their drapes, and you didn’t even bring any drinks. You drink everyone else’s drinks instead, get drunk, put all the bottles on an individual finger and clack them together while talking about politics.

No one likes a political rant. Not even the person making a political rant likes the political rant. No one likes a drunk jackass within five feet. Not even the drunk jackass themselves likes a drunk jackass. Why do you think drunk jackasses fight each other so much?

Well you’re kinda all of them. All of them in one. Like a Gordita Crunch from Taco Bell a taxi cab driver picks up with a woman in labor in his back seat, and the meter is still running and he doesn’t even accept credit cards as fare. That baby is gonna be born into a large, spinning world that smells of processed cheese, petroleum fuel and cheapness, and probably grow up to produce a Shaq Fu reboot, with Dennis Rodman instead of Shaq.

That’s your legacy. That’s what you contribute.

And I respect the hell out of you.

Because even though you unequivocally and mercilessly suck, you’ve got potential to be the best.

The best at what?

The best at everything.

Your shameless mediocrity as a person belies a selfless, ascetic soul that will lay their ribs out across a river for people to run across and escape from danger.

Your inability to take initiative is the calm before the perfect storm of human effort, diligence, and victory; except when it isn’t. When it is, though, it’s pretty damn awesome.

Your indifference is the shadow of compassion, your laziness is the after-image of superhuman speed and vigor. You are the null hypothesis to everything good and awesome, and due to that, you ARE everything good and awesome. You really, really suck, and that’s what makes you worth believing in.

I’m rooting for you, you glorious, beautiful, indomitable, shimmering, elegant, radiant piece of crap.

Sincerely,

Yourself

 

 

“I’m an Entrepreneur” – said Every Guy

Fun Fact: ‘Yahoo’ is actually an acronym that means “Yet Another Hierarchical Officious Oracle.”

So, here’s a disclaimer:

I’m guilty of being every guy.

You know, every guy that acts enlightened when they start toying with the idea of how to make money online. All these buzzwords like ‘independent business owner’ and ‘mlm’ and ‘entrepreneur’, they’re so intoxicating that they may as well be fireball shots.

And let’s not pretend that we all haven’t been every guy, at least once, even if you’re a girl. (Yes you, Sarah.)

Every guy thinks they’ve got a fantastic, one-of-a-kind idea. Every guy, at some point, thinks they’re all that and a bag of potato chips. Every guy, for all intents in purposes, has it all figured out.

And then every guy sees that their one-of-a-kind idea is really one of a kind of thing that’s actually numbering in the billions. Every guy sees that they ARE all that and a bag of potato chips, but unfortunately, the bag turns out to have a whole bunch of hot air up at the top.

Every guy has it all figured out, you know, until they don’t.

So what does every guy do after that?

Blame something, get frustrated at something, light something up, do something else, try to be somebody else; and not necessarily always in that order either.

In the worse case scenario, they might become THAT guy.

Once upon a junior college night, a seven foot tall, morbidly obese man drunkenly sleepwalked into my dorm room when we left the door open by the latch. He mistook my roommate’s closet for a toilet stall, and I heard my roommate yell in the most alarmed Dutch accent I’ve ever heard in my life.

On the one hand, that was horrifying. On the other hand, it was pretty damn hilarious.

Was the large, drunken, 2% conscious Sasquatch of a man recoiling from the realization of being every guy?

To this date, I’m not really sure.

So what happens when we aren’t every guy, though?

What happens to those who stop being every guy, transcend being THAT guy, and become THE guy?

I wish I could tell you that, really, because every day I learn something new telling me that I’ve got a little bit longer to go until I find out.

Here’s what I have found out, though.

Making your own way is pretty damn cool. The job market is only dead to those who still believe in its archaic, but still very relevant, definition. Independent marketing is the future, and every guy thinks that the title ‘entrepreneur’ denotes a license to the future.

The real question, then, when do we stop being every guy, who thinks they own the future, and become THE guy that does?

For me? Probably when I’m done listening to this.

 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 91 other followers