more monster

lumps

What is the matter, what can it be
To be so unhappy, to be unhappy
Maybe you got the rabies and maybe you got the flu
But you can't try to fix it, 'cause you don't know what to do

Anxiety, and it's really gonna kill you
Anxiety, killing you like very slow poison

- The Electric Eels

There are times, like now, when my anxiety spikes and I feel like I'm not in control. And yet, at the same time, I also feel like a disembodied, neutral observer. I'm aware of the spike, and even though my insides are feeling off, it's as if I'm outside of the situation, like an objective scientist, measuring it. Wondering what it's all about and when it will pass. It's very strange, but in a way it's also comforting. I like to think that I'm not my anxiety. We may be two entities wrestling inside the same body, but I am separate and distinct. I'm stuck here in the ring, the uneasiness is here with me and I can feel it attacking, but this doesn't necessarily define who I am.

Tonight, however, I am feeling pinned.

birth of a monster

Started messing around with Adobe Illustrator, but had to finish in Photoshop. You can tell which parts I drew in Illustrator. It gives you really clean lines.

kamen mach two

I should never post anything until it's finished.

That said, this has been kicking my ass tonight. We'll call it a rough draft of my vision for installment number two in my Kamen Rider series. It somehow seems off and, try as I might, I haven't figured out how to tighten it up. Still, at least I have it down on paper. The idea has been birthed. Some nights that's the best you can hope for.

I had today off and basically did nothing. I just hung out here, me and the cats. Did laundry and it was warm enough to hang it outside. Cooked salmon for dinner. I have the only cats in the world who don't like salmon. Listened to tunes. Eleventh Dream Day. Don't want to go to work tomorrow. What's new?

lost and found

I've been doing a lot of cleaning lately, and, for a pack rat such as myself, it's sort of like undergoing an archaeological dig of my life. I've been finding a lot of mementos. Two of the items I've stumbled upon are "souvenirs" from my time on the island of Guam. One is a bullet I found while snorkeling in a tidal pool circa 1978. It was a remnant of the ferocious Battle of Guam, fought some 34 years before I found it that calm afternoon. That bullet may have more significance than anything I own, because it fired my imagination and kick started my interest in history at the tender age of eight. I ended up majoring in history, so that's got to count for something.

The other is this pendant. I have a penchant for finding things, and I found this on the schoolyard one day. It, too, has always fired my imagination. The dragon (with crown) around the edges is fascinating enough, but what's always intrigued me are the markings in the middle. This pendant is not worn at all, the outer detail is sharp, and yet the markings seem faint, as if they are shrouded in mist. Were they intended to be that way? And what do they mean, or stand for, if anything? They've always reminded me of a maze or labyrinth, which seems fitting.

Still, while I love a good mystery, I like a good answer, too. There are no markings on the back that lead me toward any jeweler or manufacturer. The only possible clue is that while this looks to be made of silver on the front, it's more like an alloy on the back. It's not ancient. It might not even be old. However, it's nonetheless intriguing. It meant something to someone once, but, to the rest of the world, it carries an air of the mystical.

Of course my superstitious side has wondered from time to time if the damned thing summons evil spirits and has somehow cursed my life. But you know, I wouldn't trade it for anything. This is the only life I know.

camping at Wal-Mart

I drove up to Wal-mart this evening to get a bag of cat litter, and it was out there again. It being the mystery RV that parks in the very back of the Wal-Mart parking lot, and has off and on for several months now. Some nights there's a light on inside, some nights not, but it's almost always sitting there, alone, way off in the distance.

I don't know what to think, but it obviously registers. My mind drifts to camping trips at various state parks, where there's usually an elderly couple, the camp stewards or whatever they're called, who stay for an entire summer and act as the campground caretakers. They ride around in a golf cart and make sure everyone is at the right site, ask how everyone is doing, answer basic questions, and other assorted pleasantries. But at Wal-Mart? What if there was a scuffle in the parking lot? Could I go to them for help? Could I knock on the RV door if I was looking for tea and sympathy? Or directions to Target? Is that what it's there for? It is reassuring to think there might be a friendly old couple inside.

Or maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe its presence is much more sinister. Perhaps a chronic shoplifter owns it and stays close to Wal-Mart to support his habit, all the cabinets and storage spaces crammed with stolen goods. Or worse, maybe an old pedophile camps out there. He probably hangs out on the candy aisle during the day, trying to lure kids back to the van. "Wanna see my Mystery Machine?" "Would you like a Scooby Snack?" I don't know, but it's all very strange.

And it's not just the RV. Sometimes semi trucks park back there, too, their drivers all snug in the beds behind their cabs. This definitely raises an eyebrow. I've never been in any truck stop USA that didn't have a condom dispenser in the men's restroom. Do truckers en masse suffer from delusions of grandeur, or is there really that much action going on at these places? I've certainly never seen it.

But then again, I don't really notice much, do I?

the things you cannot change

My inner life, that conglomeration of my thoughts, dreams and ideas, is as real as my outer existence. To me, one is just an extension of the other. And, more often than not, they all come crashing together. Yes, we all say that, but I walk the walk. I spend most of my time inside my head anyway, so this only makes sense. Inside my head, anything is possible. Imagine if you could carry that same malleability to the outside world.

Everything I see is filled with possibility. This extends to the random fragments we encounter each day. Perhaps especially the random fragments. Nature abhors a vacuum, and my mind can't stand loose ends. Sometimes I wish I had a film crew to document my life, outer and inner, and bring them both together for everyone to see. It would be the most surreal movie ever filmed.

Random comments heard in passing take on a life of their own, and the library is filled with random comments. Take the bit that you hear and plug in your own ending. It's that simple. Like the time I overheard a mom telling her kid that Velcro didn't exist before he was born, or, better yet, like today. On my way to the desk I passed a mother and child nestled together in a big comfy chair. The mom was explaining that race and sex are two things you can't change. How sweet. And that was all I heard as I proceeded along my path. In my mind, however, the story continued.

A mother and child sit nestled in a big, blue comfy chair, sharing a moment of closeness.

"Your race and sex are two things you can't change, dear," the mother says. The child looks up at her unquestioningly and smiles.

Suddenly my head appears over the child's shoulder and whispers two words into his ear. "Bowie did."

Mist appears, the sky opens, and the camera cuts to 20 or 30 seconds of vintage footage of Ziggy Stardust-era Bowie in raging, androgynous glory.

The image fades, revealing the child in a completely mind-blown state. "WOW," he gasps.

The mother is never heard from again.

Of course some people will dismiss this as a coping mechanism, while others will say I'm completely and hopelessly nuts. I only know that where my mind leads, I follow, and it makes for a colorful day.

I think this also explains why I should never, ever have children.

in the shadow of Fuji

This photograph is not mine, or at least it isn't mine in a legal sense. I found and "borrowed" it from a site dedicated to Japan brats, a term of affection for those military brats who did a stint of their childhoods in the Land of the Rising Sun. In another sense, however, this image is very much mine. Except for being slightly off (the apartment complex should be to the right), this was the view I had from the schoolyard at Shirley Lanham Elementary School at Atsugi Naval Air Station in Japan. Every school day, from the fall of 1979 until the spring of 1982, I gazed up at that majestic, snow-capped volcano. To frame this, try to imagine how many woodblock prints have been created over the centuries with Mount Fuji as the subject. I'm hardly the only person who has been awed by its magnificence.

So yes, this image is mine. It reverberates in my mind as clearly as it did 27 years ago. If I close my eyes, I can still see it. Everyone has a place and a time that they look back on with fondness. This is my place and time.

I've been doing a lot of reminiscing about Japan lately. Maybe it's something I'll elaborate on in upcoming posts. For tonight, after another unforgiving shift at work, I think that sharing this photo is enough.

Oyasumi nasai.