Gentlemen

I had a justifiably inclusionistic (a term for a movement that acknowledges and accepts all known viewpoints pertaining to the origin and purpose of mankind, unless proven false by the scientific method) thought yesterday, and I figured I'd share it with you guys, at least you guys who are opened minded. If buddhists think that all people are part of God, and if Christ is God, then doesn't that mean that all Buddhists have Christ within them? If Christ is the way, the truth, and the life, and he is within all Christians and Buddhists, then isn't Buddhism and Christianity the same save the reincarnation aspect? Perhaps we believe in the same deity and no one is willing to pronounce it?

Deeper, if all "enlightened (accepted Christ)" Christians are Saints, as it says in the New Testament (Ephesians 1:1), and if all enlightened Buddhists are then called Buddhas (working through meditation, investigation, and spiritual cultivation--much like all Christians go through before they accept Christ (Matthew 7:7-8)--are all Saints Buddhas and Buddhas Saints in God's eyes?

Is there justification for Christian reincarnation if all will have the chance to see God's salvation (Isaiah 40:5)? What patience must abound in the life of a tree of a thousand years!

With Love,

The Kiosk in my Temple is Shaped like Rosalynn Carter

I thought this was interesting. Pithy statements concerning how I feel about these subjects:

History: Events and Perspectives melding together to offer a caveat against what our future could become.

Organized Religion: The clitoris of modern society: that which stimulates and quickens our connection with God.

Marriage: The greatest form of linkage between two people; to be revered by-and available for all (yes, even the homosexuals.)

Sex: The carnal admittance the marriage bond.

Society: The allowance to deny who we really are.

Animals: God's creatures to be both eaten and cared for.

Earth: The whipping boy for life's capital gains; the bitch to GDP.

Economy: An easily manipulated facade that tells us where the money isn't.

Government: A necessary evil (oh how trite)

Global Warming: A trend caused by Economy, Earth, and Government.

Movies: Entertainment and..or education. To be good, you must entertain; to be cinema, you must educate.

Standardized Tests: Milk can be homogenized to remove bacteria; Public and Private Education cannot.

Music: All sound aleatoric, improvised, and composed.

Money: The justification for our actions.

God: The deity which knows..sees..thinks..contains all.

Dodgers' Baseball: Common ground that allows for actual conversation with my father.

Cynicism: Negativity grounded in Reality.

Holy War: Oxymoron; bullshit.

Love: Enigmatic reasoning into and out of what we think about another person; both a suffering and a blessing.

Amontillado!--I have my doubts

Art is completely selfish for me. I will never make movies for Production Houses or the MPAA. I will never write poetry or books for Publishing Houses. It is selfish. It is for me and my God. For me as release and for my God as praise for as vulgar as it gets, he will know it's all for Him.

Olmedo Saenz eats children

I was told just recently that I'm never at my worst in these blogs? Then my thinking kicked in: what is my worst? When I'm cynical and negative and passive and critically unaclaimed? No, that's every day. I spent most of my day at the beach quietly because I knew that anything that spilled forth would have been negative fodder strictly because the ocean water made me want to gag with fits of remorse. Hate hate hate. But, then again, Ernest Hemingway said it best, as observed, "Happiness in an intelligent person is the rarest thing I know." and Woody Allen to said, "To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness." We're basically fucked.

Weight. All this weight of all the epiphanies and all the truths that are always so covered up by our fucking insecurities. I'm laying it all out:
I'm an embarrassed, tired, dissonant, young man who has only live an overture to a life to come. And that life, too, will end close enough to the beginning. And then maybe I'll come back as a tree to live for two thousand years in forest only to be cut short by the logger's of tomorrow. Or I'll go to heaven...
"There's your karma, ripe as peaches."

The Dodgers lost tonight in the 14th against the Cardinals (3-2). Odalis Perez was allowed to pitch against Pujols. Bad decision, seriously very bad. Lost the game. What a wretch is that? Here's to a Padres' loss tomorrow.

With love.

Father--Yes, son?--I want to kill you.

People will drift in and out of your life. It's up to you to drag the outs back in and to push the ins out. Otherwise, all will drift.

And so I sit with a dirty feeling in the pit of my stomach--that feeling of loneliness that has often become ubiquitous of late. It's coupled with the recent realization that those which I met in High School are not the end-all be-all at all. I still have a solid 80 years of my life depending on medical discoveries, and I know that I will find new friends, have new relationships, become something new.

And last night, as I sat alone at the Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest 1201 showing, which was mostly teenagers and early-20's college-kid-can't-let-goes, I realized how much this detachment has taught to be an independent person... I don't have to put on pretensions for the sake of pretensions. I can be esoteric and okay with it because I know that I won't always be the same as they or even we... I don't have to wear my hair long with the mild flip while wearing the tight shirts and pants, accompanied by a girl. I don't have to always talk. I can just observe. I can feel the world so close as miles away--a detachment created for the sake of self-epiphany--to realize that the best is always yet, and the best as of late will be the worst as of 2016.

Fuck pretensions, is what I'm trying to say. Fuck trying to pull the outs back in... The drift upon the tide is what creates a person--or at least this person.

Maybe this stems from feeling like "the forgotten friend," the one never called back, the one that drifted out and wasn't pulled back in? And the wonder is that I'm okay with that. I'm okay with accepting the fact that large groups depress me, that modern Christians depress me, that people depress me. And this depression is naught but a blessing.

For so close is all so far away.

--
As always,
with love.

So Think me Naive

Metered Destruction of this Good Earth

I

If the Earth you chance to see

from a craft of cement and aluminum

You will view the key

of all the problems

As ants in the universe

we see the urban sprawl

as greatness though perverse

but the truth is that we crawl

II

Have we already reached our

apotheosis?

We suffer

in this the Oil Age,

Dissonant,

moving,

we have turned Eden east

and stated We desert you.

Cain was the ephemeral microcosm prophesy,

a progeny, a prodigy

the young devil that models

todays greatness

the backstabbers accelerando.

Oh if only tomorrows greatness

could warn

todays weakness

Why Cant it just be fixed?

theyd ask.

Weakness replies,

Were tricked! but fixing this Earth

is a daunting task.

III

Oh Mother!

Mother of Green and blue and brown and gray!

Mother of the air!

Mother of the sea!

Mother how have we forsaken you!

We fuck you in our factories,

push you up upon steel

and tear open your mussels

your cavities,

your labia folds,

and force our members in,

our Cain refineries,

our smog,

we ram into you with no desire

no desire but sin.

We fuck you dead as road kill

upon our highways,

driving you blind,

planting our asphalt,

cutting you face,

scarring you forever,

spewing carbon into your atmosphere,

leaving our seminal dust

upon your dying bushes

We fuck you from our lounge chairs

sucking out your energy

for a nominal fee

We fuck you, we fuck you,

but we never love you,

never send you flowers,

never apologize.

Mother Earth,

you are your childs Bitch,

raped and fucked so Freudian.

Oedipus would be proud,

Father time wont stop us because hes afraid,

and Father God is awaiting apocalypse

and now

IV

Flesh is not forever

and we are eating out alive,

sucking the color out of the ice.

This third planet will be the first to go

for the gas giants will whirl

and protrude,

expand,

explode out of haiku cocoons.

For the 1^st convector

will heat us and keep us

away its odd

time signature

melodica songs.

And the moon,

in a turn ironic,

will no longer be refuse,

but take in refuse

when sticks and stones

when human bones

chew apart war after war

and we knock knock knock on Saturns door.

There will always be a planet for us,

for in far off quantum Andromeda

lies the next populous victim.

V

We must love Mother Earth

the third planet,

for in its dying fatigue,

there is mirth,

theres debt,

there is need.

--

With love.