Y2K Bug

As we approach the end of the world (December 21st, 2012) I must admit I'm a little anxious. But fear not. I can still remember the last time I survived the end of the world. Believe me when I say there is tremendous potential in armageddon.

On December 31, 1999 I was preparing for a new life. A life without computers and everything that came with them. I believed all the hype about the Y2K “Millennium Bug.” The experts who were saying that the internal clock in millions of computers was going to be set to zero at midnight  (unleashing a form of technological Armageddon) confirmed everything I had always believed. Computers were sterile, evil machines that were accelerating a process that TV had started when I was a kid… turning me into a useless couch potato. I was excited.

Seven days later I pulled the plug on the water reserves I was storing in my bathtub. Taking a computer catalog off the recycling pile, I began shopping for a new computer while I soaked in a sudsy bubble bath. That was the beginning of my fascination with expressing myself through computers and technology. Computers, cameras, software, the Internet and printers. It was 2000 and I had discovered a new medium.

New Years Excuses!

Happy New Year! 2011 and I’m still fat, broke, and tired. I haven’t gone anywhere near a scale lately but I’m pretty sure I’m fatter then ever.  I’m happy to report, though, that I must be less tired… or you wouldn’t be reading this. Fatigue is a sure way of stifling hobbies like writing for a blog that nobody reads. I think I’m about to make a break through, though. But be warned: I have a philosophical dilemma and, for some crazy reason, I ‘m compelled to sort through it here… even though I know I should probably keep it to myself. Perhaps it’s because I know I don’t have the answers to my problems and I’m reaching out for help. Feel free to comment.

I started out this journey with a commitment to becoming a healthy, physically fit, financially secure, vegan. In true slob fashion, over a year has gone by and I continue to eat meat (and a bunch of other crap I know is bad for me), drink coffee and booze, spend money without saving, watch a lot of TV and not exercise. The only thing I don’t do anymore is smoke… and the only reason I don’t do that is I never really smoked in the first place. I have dabbled here and there with some healthier habits but the bottom line is I haven’t changed my ways. Since I was a kid I’ve been a believer in the wisdom of the Jedi Master Yoda who said “there is no try. You either do or you don’t do.’ I haven’t done shit. But why? As much as I’d like to start this year off with renewed vigor and a fresh commitment to a better and happier me, I know I have to answer this question before I can move forward. Why haven’t I been motivated to change? Here are a few of my latest excuses:

#1- I’m perfectly happy with who I am, what I eat and 
      what I do.The only thing missing is admitting this to 
      myself.

#2 – I don’t feel good (or happy) but I’m lazy and do what’s easy. As destructive as I know my lifestyle is, I haven’t had any consequences bad enough, yet, to force me to change. I haven’t hit “rock bottom.”

#3 – I‘m a mere product of my environment. I have the illusion of choice and control but the truth is... I’m exactly what my environment requires me to be. I’m a tiny cog in a vast, mindless, purposeless (but intricately interconnected) system. The reason I act like a fat, lazy, and bloated American is because that’s what I am. That’s what the majority of us are.

     #4 – Other reasons having to do with extra terrestrials, the ozone layer, alignment of the stars, the Mayan calendar, and a bunch of other stuff that I’m too embarrassed to admit in public… but still consider possible factors.

     #5 - Analysis leads to paralysis.

     #6 – Pride, ego, and vanity are a trap. On some level, I know that none of this really matters. Change is necessary and possible but I’m focusing on the wrong things. Perhaps it’s time for a new blog? “Staring Into The Void: A human consciousness being one with the Universe”? How does that sound?

The Time I Almost Died

At age 23 I moved in with the love of my life. A few months later she kicked me out in the middle of a snow storm… in my underwear. With nowhere to go, I moved into my Dad’s art studio by the train tracks near downtown Denver. Still heart broken, and recovering from walking phenomena, she called me out of the blue and invited me to a U2 concert at Mile High Stadium.  Even though I felt like crap, I accepted the invitation. Before she came to pick me up I drank half a bottle of vodka to calm my nerves.

Midway through the concert, I had to throw-up. I rushed to the restroom but there was a line a block long. I ran outside the stadium and puked. Earlier in the evening Public Enemy opened the show and there was some gang related violence in the parking lot. Security wasn't  letting anybody in or out of the stadium. I pleaded but I was locked out.

Wondering around in the snow, deathly sick, with nothing on but blue jeans, a sweatshirt and a blazer, I decided to walk back to my dad’s studio. On the way I saw a slow moving train headed in my direction. I decided to grab onto a ladder on the back of a boxcar. By the time the train was passing my dad’s studio it was going like 100  miles per hour. I didn’t jump. 

I held on for dear life as the train kept going all night, finally stopping in the middle of the prairie. Relieved, I jumped off but found myself in the middle of nowhere. Eventually I found a warm patch of concrete with no snow on it. I laid down and looked at the clear blue sky and felt happy for the first time in a long time. I was happy to be alive! 

Off in the distance I saw a single car disappear into the horizon. I headed towards the highway. At this point I was no-longer sick but my jacket was torn and I was covered in grease. No cars would stop for me. After many hours of walking down the desolate highway (being ignored by cars) I saw a train heading back the other way. I jumped on. The train traveled into the night and eventually stopped near a truck stop in the middle of nowhere. There was a pay phone but it was broken. I went inside and asked to use the phone. The lady said “no” and asked me to leave since I wasn’t a customer. Next to the truck stop was a laundry mat. I believed that my luck would start to turn around if my cloths were clean so I decided to use the few dollars I had to wash my clothes. Since I had nothing to wear, I looked in the dumpster behind the laundry mat and found a light blue body suit with a magnet belt straight out of the 70’s. I tried it on in the bathroom and it was tight… but it fit. I bought a small box of detergent and washed my clothes but did not have enough for the dryer. I asked the clerk at the truck stop for money. Again she refused. Carrying my wet clothes in a plastic bag I walked around looking for help. I couldn’t find another living soul. Way off in the distance I saw the lights of a town. I started walking. Once again I tried to flag down cars but nobody would stop. I was starving and decided to eat some corn from the fields by the side of the road. The corn was hard as a rock and completely flavorless. It was inedible. Eventually a highway patrolman pulled over. His license plate said Nebraska. For the first time I knew where I was. I told the officer my story but he looked at me like I was crazy and refused to give me a ride. After he left, another train came by going in the direction of the town. I jumped on.

On the morning of my 2^nd day I pulled into the world's largest rail yard located in North Platte Nebraska. I quickly found a grocery store and called my dad collect on a pay phone. He was stunned to hear I was in Nebraska. He and my girlfriend had spent two days looking for me all over town… including at the morgue. He wired me money and I dried my cloths, eat at McDonald’s, and bought a Greyhound bus ticket home. Within a week I moved back in with the love of my life. 18 years later and we are still together.

A Strange And Bitter Crop

The name "Luther" is old German in origin. It's meaning is "soldier of the people" or "renowned warrior". It's often used as homage to Martin Luther, the Christian protestant reformer, or to Martin Luther King, Jr (MLK) the civil rights activist. 


King Moonracer


I was conceived at the first hippy commune in the United States. It was called Drop City. At the time, my dad was a co-founder/artist and my mom was a local high school kid from Trinidad, CO.  I was born a few months after MLK was assassinated. In his wake there were riots happening all over the country. I was named "Luther" not to honor MLK but as a form of protection. My parents believed that there was going to be a violent revolution and the new regime would go easy on me if my name was "Luther."


I mention this because I actually have a few readers now and, for the first time, received feedback on my last post. I now have three people following this blog (all of whom I suspect are covert radicals like myself).  I was told by those who know me that I have surrounded myself by slackers but I am obviously  "not a slacker" and asked why I would promote such a "worthless" point of view?

It is true that I have worked tirelessly my whole life and am not a "slacker". I am not a fan of work and responsibility but I have not succeeded in "doing as little as possible." What I have done is become the reluctant champion for those with whom our society has, what I would call, an "uneasy truce." I am on a one man mission to advance the cause of those who are still in constant threat of psychological, spiritual, and even physical, annihilation because they are incapable, or flat out refuse, to "go with the program".  "Slackers" are the ones that look and sound the most like me and with whom I most strongly identify. But they are not the only ones. I have managed to make a career as a champion for bitches, freaks, psychotics, bums, thugs and junkies.  None of these people even remotely look or sound like me but I like to believe that I have earned their trust and respect. Why? Because I respect them. I admit that I am comfortable in many ways. But I still have a gut feeling that something is very wrong. Not doing what our society wants us to is not necessarily a character flaw. 

In case you were wondering, I'm not a public defender. I work for a non-profit and the project I work for is, in my opinion, radical. So radical that I think too much attention threatens it's very existence...so I will remain intentionally vague.  We have an unofficial slogan "high tolerance, low threshold." When I talk about this philosophy to outsiders I often pretend as if it is "new" and I don't know exactly what it's all about: 

"High threshold, low intolerance? I can't remember." 

In actuality it is not a  "new" concept in America. Basically it  means "come as you are and do as you please." Outside of America, many still believe we all live by this creed. In reality, only corporations and a few privileged youth and very wealthy individuals can get away with it. Admittedly, it has unlimited potential to breed both power and corruption. Once it is fully realized that such an environment is being attempted (with government funding) for the mentally ill living in extreme poverty, it probably won't be tolerated for long. So shhhhh. Even some of those who are on the inside, and benefit on a daily basis, are suspicious of it and try to tear it down. It''s an exciting,  inspiring and often brutal place to work.

Lately I have been referring my staff to the movie the Hurt Locker. According to some definitions a hurt locker is " a figurative place where someone is said to be, or will be, getting hurt or beaten." 
 "We are in the business of handling bombs, explosions, and hurt" I tell my staff. 

"And our cause is not for everyone... to bring back the dead". 


"To harvest a strange and bitter crop. " 

Assimilation Into An Unworthy Society Is an Unworthy Goal

I don't control the TV remote at my house. The only time I get to watch whatever I want is when my girlfriend is outta the house or asleep. Even then I have trouble because everything is hooked up to Tivo, which I don't know how to operate. Basically what I do is watch all the weird obscure things she recorded to be cool but will never watch. 


You can probably tell from my last post that I had too much coffee and was having trouble sleeping last night. To fall asleep I decided to watch this educational video from the 80's that my girlfriend had recorded from "god knows where" called "Film Genres: Romance". It was very cheesy but had an interesting moment of insight when the unknown "experts" discussed the impact of the movie Annie Hall on the baby boomer's. Annie Hall was the most flawed heroine that they had ever seen on screen. She gave an entire generation (especially women) permission to be totally screwed up. It reminded me of art critic Dave Hickey's response to Jackson Pollock when he saw his work in a mainstream magazine for the first time as a kid. His instant reaction was "anything goes." He was suddenly liberated. He never stressed out about his Mother complaining about his messy bedroom again.


This got me thinking about my "best of the decade" lists I was working on. I looked at them and realized many of my "best of's" were stuff I knew were great but didn't necessarily remember much detail from. I started to think about a list of my Annie Hall and Jackson Pollock moments. I realized that my world hasn't been "rocked" too often... but I have had a few tremors.


As I started to list them, I started to notice a scary theme among my hero's: a general lack of focus, goals and ambition. Fat,  broke and tired is starting to look more like a final destination than a stop along the way.


Growing up in what was once hippie Boulder, in the late 70's and 80's, I was exposed to a lot of drugs, concerns about the environment, corporations, government, organic food, etc. Things that are just now starting to work their way into mainstream consciousness. I remember a quote by Malcolm X when I was really young that became my secret motto: "Assimilation into an unworthy society is an unworthy goal." Interestingly, I Googled that quote and nothing came up. Either that quote has been censored or Macolm X (or anybody else) never said it. If it is unclaimed, I claim it now, thank you.


Movie wise, I remember working as a projectionist for the self-proclaimed longest running film series in the history of the World (at the University of Colorado) when Richard Linklater's "Slacker" came out. The biggest star proffessor on campus at the time was the expirimental film pioneer Stan Brakhage. I abmired him mostly because of a chance interation I had with him while tagging along with my girlfriend to his studio. He held a private screening (for just the two of us) of a film that was a long thread of white Japanese characters on a solid black background. It was beautiful to look at but gave me a very sad feeling. When he told us the actual story, I was a little shocked to find out it was a very tragic folktale . I felt that I had somehow known the story even though it was in Japanese (which I don't read) and went by at lightning speed. 


The first night I projected "Slacker" I felt that I finally understood what I was meant to do with my life... as little as possible. There was a quote from a homeless guy in the movie that I still think of today: "I may not live well but at least I don't have to work to do it." I mention Brakhage because half way through the movie he stormed out of the theatre and screamed at the top of his lungs that it was the worst movie he had ever seen. 


Below are a few of the moments that defined my life. When I told my girlfriend she said I should be ashamed and keep this to myself. Luckily not too many people are likely to read this. Hi Mark. Happy Valentines day. 


Enjoy!

I'm Not Crazy

Although I don't pretend to understand quantum physics, I do understand this: Science is revealing a reality that is very different than the one we have all been taught (and continue to believe in and experience). I often wonder what dramatic events (or technologies) will force the masses to confront reality, as science now knows it. Will it be a dramatic encounter with a being from another time or dimension? Will it be a device that can detect artificially produced light from outer space? Will it be the revelations of gods and angles? I believe that such events are inevitable and may be happening as we speak. It is clear to me that the era of reality, as we now know it, is over.

I Am Here: And Here: And Here: And Here: And Here: Here: And Here:

DON'T FIND YOURSELF HALFWAY UP A LADDER YOU DON'T WANT TO CLIMB

My move to Los Angeles started on a ferry boat in San Francisco on the 4th of July. It was my birthday. My girlfriend and I were joined by two friends to watch the fireworks. They had been married for nearly a decade but still had a never ending debate about the merits of Los Angeles vs. San Francisco. Roger is a lawyer who was born and raised in LA. Amy is a therapist who was born and raised in San Francisco. The Bay was exceptionally cold, windy, and thick with fog. We were all underdressed and the only thing keeping us warm was a bottle of Grey Goose. The only fireworks I remember from that boat ride was the fight that broke out over the city of Los Angeles. Honestly, I don’t even remember that.


The next day my girlfriend asked me what I thought of Roger’s perspective on LA. I admitted that the only thing I remembered from that entire night was how embarrassed I was for spending half an hour (or more) locked in the bathroom of our favorite restaurant… puking. She reminded me that he had described San Francisco as a beautiful woman who is stunning to look at but actually very shallow. Not much below the surface. Los Angeles, however, is the opposite. It is ugly in many ways, but you can spend a whole lifetime getting to know her without ever getting bored. I was skeptical of such a simple analysis but her mind was made up. She was sick and tired of San Francisco and wanted to move to LA. I refused.


Although I grew up in the Rocky Mountain West, my High School was obsessed with surfing. We were thousands of miles from the ocean but my friends and I all had bleach blond hair, wore surfer shorts and flip flops… even in the winter. At the time there was no doubt in my mind that someday I would live in LA.


As the years wore on, so did the reputation of the LA. First there was the Rodney King beatings and the ensuing riots. Then the OJ Simpson trial. Finally there was the Rampart scandal that exposed widespread, hard core, corruption throughout the LAPD. By the time I left college, LA was pretty much of the table as a place I wanted to live. After living in the city of San Francisco for 10 years, whose population almost universally considers Los Angeles synonymous with hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come here for the weekend. As of that faithful 4th of July, the closest I had been to LA was in an airplane on my way to San Diego.


As much as I wanted Los Angeles to go away and leave me alone, it wouldn’t. I felt that I had done a pretty good job of refuting my girlfriends pro LA propaganda but one day this City snuck up on me quite unexpectedly.


I had what I thought was my dream job working for the City of San Francisco. It was high pay and low stress. My co-workers even took me into a private room to warn me that I was working to hard and creating “unrealistic expectations.” As a self-identified “slacker” I was thrilled. I returned to my cubicle and did my best not to impress anybody. It worked. My co-workers started smiling at me and inviting me to lunch. I came in late, left early, took two hour lunches and nobody seemed to notice or care. My biggest problem was figuring out something to do with the rest of my time. Even though I was not yet 40, I decided to do what everybody else was doing… plan my retirement.


As I was surfing the Internet one day for a place to retire, I accidentally stumbled on the website for the Architecture Urbanism Design Collaborative (audc.org). The core values listed for the organization are as follows:


Love: Envisioning communities – even if dispersed - based on caring, sharing, and belonging.


Beauty: To set an example for people to rise to.


Ethics: To instill, by demonstration, a way of acting, to demonstrate integrity.


Abstraction: To create a background that allows individuals to define identities amidst the infinite possibilities of contemporary life.


As I read these words I felt the walls closing in on me. I suddenly realized I was in a prison and had to escape. But where would I go? At the top of the unusually sparse page was a button that said “random”. I pushed it.


The article that came up was titled “Los Angeles and the Theology of Ether”. It described the theory of Antonio Negri and Michael Hardt that national governments are withering away and being replaced with a new world order of placeless networks of flows and hierarchies. Although these networks do not have fixed locations the authors suggest that “new Romes” appear to control them: Washington DC with the Bomb, New York with the Money, and Los Angeles with the Ether. According to the article:


“Los Angeles is the center of production for ether. Hollywood, as both a mythic place and a mode of production, is the telematic inhaler for the rest of the world, a sponge so soaked and saturated with ether that it can anaesthetize the entire world. Now that we have Los Angeles, we no longer need other cities. Los Angeles has been designed as a giant stage set, ready for broadcast. As a generic background, it can be exported to any location”.


Not exactly Shangri-La but I decided to move here right after I read it. Featured with the article was a hazy photo with downtown LA off in the distance. I made it the wall paper on my computer. I also changed my computer password to onmyway2la and began a search for jobs here.


Much to my disappointment, I could not find any jobs in LA (that I qualified for) that would pay anything close to what I was making. Also, I kept thinking of an expression I had heard from a homeless man who had offered me career advice, “don’t find yourself half way up a ladder you don’t want to climb.” I had once been employed working for the homeless and now felt that I should have listened to the his advice and continued working in that field. Although LA is the homeless capitol of America, I was discovering that there were very few decent paying jobs doing that kind of work here.


Finally, I noticed an opening as an Analyst for the City of Santa Monica’s Homeless Services. I didn’t know what an analyst was but the pay was the same as I was making at my current job and it related to the issue of homelessness. It felt like a “hale mary” but I applied for my first job in LA.


Weeks, and then months, went by and I never heard anything. Eventually I forgot that I had ever applied for the job. With so few prospects in LA, I gave up on the idea of getting a job here and reapplied myself to not working for the City of San Francisco. My lack of initative eventually paid off and lead to a promotion. Two weeks into my new position I got the call from the City of Santa Monica. I was now making more money than that job but I remembered the homeless man’s warning “don’t find yourself half way up a latter you don’t want to climb.” I accepted the interview and booked my first flight to LA.

The Most Relaxing Place Ever

When I was a kid, I always looked forward to being sick. A high temperature or a sore throat meant my Mom would drop me off at Grandma’s house on her way to work. The first thing Grandma would do on a cold winter day is sit me in front of the fireplace and make me a “hot toddy.” Then I would “make my nest,” as she called it, in front of the TV with a bean bag and fuzzy blanket. Her scruffy little dog, Ralph, black kitty (who had no name that I was aware of), Grandma and me would spend the entire day watching soap opera’s, The Andy Griffith Show, and Perry Mason. If it got late before Mom picked me up (which it often did) we’d watch Masterpiece Theatre on PBS. As the night wore on I’d watch Soap, M.A.S.H, and Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman through barely open eyes. It was acceptable for me to drink hot tea with a shot of whisky but these late night shows were not allowed unless I pretended to be asleep.

Being sick at Grandma’s house was comfortable, safe and warm… but it was also fun. I was allowed to eat and watch things that were “off limits” at home. It was a wonderful combination of the familiar and predictable and the new and exciting. It was a rare opportunity in life to experiment and explore in a safe and unconditionally accepting environment. Although it was not my house, it is one of the few places I have ever felt truly at home.

Wash Your Own Damn Brain

The first time I heard of an affirmation was from Al Franken's character Stewart Smalley on Saturday Night Live. "I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me!" Obviously, I thought affirmations were funny but didn't take them seriously.

Years later I was studying propaganda in totalitarian societies and had a realization. Human behaviour can be modified, and even completely changed, by repeating stripped down, catchy, messages over and over . Corporate advertisers figured this out decades ago and are effectively using the same techniques that dictators use to control entire populations to sell crap and make billions in profits. They have very successfully created a bottomless pit of need, want, and desire that will never (and can never) be satisfied. Our very economy depends on it.

Since this realization I have been a believer in affirmations. I have never used them on myself as consistently and effectively as corporations do, but I still consider them a potentially powerful form of rebellious, grassroots, reprogramming. I firmly believe that all of us have as much power to shape our own desires and behaviour as the ads formulated by high paid business executives. The real challenge is figuring out what our real needs are versus what we have been brain washed to think we need.

I wouldn't be surprised if second rate comedian turned Senator, Al Frankin, has an affirmation or two up his sleeve.

What Is The Secret?

You will be happy to know that I am now taking a writing class. One of our first assignments was to interview another student. The young women who interviewed me turned out to be a sensational writer. Her assignment was read aloud to the class as an example of how it's done. She edited out most of my negativity and made me sound like an interesting, happy and well adjusted person. The class liked it but I got bored and my mind wandered. I'm disturbed by this because I've always believed that a guaranteed method to get anyone with a pulse's attention is to share private things about them to a group of strangers. Perhaps it's time for a physical?

Although I've never watched the DVD or read the book, I happen to know that Oprah's "secret" is " like attracts like". My attention span is shot and I'm not in a good place right now. Honestly, I'm "OK" with that. I 'm attracted to negativity... and for good reason. Fat, Broke, and Tired. Not exactly a chapter from The Secret. I'm not popular... but so what? I do wonder where all the negative readers are though? Should'nt they be attracted to my blog? My counter reads 520 but I started at 500... and 5 of those visits were me. I only have 15 views. I guess they are like me, busy spewing self-absorbed blogs but not doing much reading.

I'm sure I'll get to the promised land. At the very least, learning to become a good writer will obviously help me fake it so I can start attracting and stop repulsing.