we went to disneyland.
the b-shedd came along as well!
we had fun.
here are some memorable quotes:

"looks like jumping the fence is just second nature to them..."

"that's what she said"

"we should put a giant 'v' on your forehead"

"they are like a potato and a carrot"

"i wonder if they've added the smell of burning forests to the 'soarin over cali' ride"

"i need to get to a bathroom now before i bleed out"

As I gaze upon the lonely star which rises in the east, prefacing the morning sun, I wonder if life really does exist outside the realistic realm of practicality. I would conjecture that it does not; but alas, my skepticism rears its ugly head. Life pours forth from my being, stemming from a single bud and multiplying into a sea of scions--each shoot reaching for its own identity; its own fulfillment. I believe my marrow to be of principled substance, yet I contradict even my own predications within the very bowls of my soul.

I love. I learn. I live.

My simple desire is to sit with another on such a venture; however, I know what is impossible. Just as my facile words pass into the vastness which is the aeon of the unheard, so are my juvenile sentiments of romance vanquished by the starkness of conventionalism. Perhaps the wind shall one day bring upon me a great pilgrim who might guide my cynicism to a place of reconciliation. Perhaps one day from the crow's nest the lookout will shout "hope does not avoid us; It awaits us yet ahead!"

I have never been surrounded by so many voluntarily blind people. To my right and my left sheep are literally pulling the wool over their own eyes. Leaders are wasting leadership opportunities in exchange for sloth. Citizens are ignoring mass murder in their own backyards only to listen to lesbian love fantasies exchanged on The View. As the dark force that is liberalism presses more fervently upon this nation, Americans have been rendered immobile; they have abandoned reason, trading in logic for "gratification." I look on in disbelief even as friends and family follow the mentally ill flock to the edge of the cliff. They see no terror in the coming storm. My heart grieves for them. I scream and shout at the top of my lungs, yet I am not heard. Perhaps I have been rendered mute by the spirit of evil.

Our public schools are an utter failure; not because they are producing uneducated students (which they are), but they have failed the American people because they have delivered our young to the mouth of the lion. Insane "teachers" and profane professors have dirtied the water of what was supposed to be a safe place to bring up our youth. We trusted these institutions to take our young and prepare them to face the world, not submerge them into a world of debauchery, hate, disorder and lies. From the earliest of ages our children now learn the dynamics of sexually deviant behavior ranging from self gratification to same sex marriage. Rather than teach them not to lie, cheat and steal we think it is more important to impose upon them "principles" of tolerance (except when it comes to tolerating anything remotely Christian in nature), how to use contraceptives to avoid AIDS (which is mainly a homosexually and IV transmitted disease) and only to use one square of toilet paper so as to save the earth. The so called "institutions of learning" have desecrated themselves, dragging our children with them into the miry pit. We have stood by and watched, perhaps hoping for a different outcome, but we cannot deny what has happened and the only way to cure this disease is to kill it. It is time for the closure of all public education. It is one of the worst mistakes that this nation has ever made.

Only when he is imprisoned will my fellow man realize the death he has brought upon himself; only when his life is threatened will he see again. Will it take mothers watching in horror as knives are put to the throats of infants? Will it take kindergartners learning how to put on condoms? What more will it take to grab the attention of those who claim to care? The method of sitting back and hoping for the best will work no more. The leading liberal candidates for the American presidency unanimously agree on federally funding abortions to those who cannot afford to pay their own assassin. Are we so mindless and stupid that we cannot see the lack of logic in killing our own, killing the defenseless nonetheless? For thirty years we have answered yes to that question, giving a dumb nod while bad judicial law has reigned by stymieing sanity.

Is this really the end for this once principled nation? I hope it is not. I still have faith in a being that is greater than any political candidate. I still believe that most Americans prefer wisdom to the stupidity of liberalism and the moral relativism it heralds. My words are harsh but they are indeed the truth and I will not stand by like an idiot, watching the flocks descend the cliff to their bloody deaths. I will speak up. I will write a thousand letters. I will civilly disobey. I only hope others will listen.

why is it that family is the first to turn their backs on each other in times of disagreement? what purpose does this serve but that of the evil one himself? i can reason any of this ridiculousness away with simple elementary logic. why cannot they? i am through wasting my time trying to encourage people to get along. it is a simple choice.

...


my pen runs dry these days as my thoughts have dwindled into simple desires for sedation. my purest longings are still of the most evil, and my mental composition will always be flawed. the only comfort i have is that i know exactly what i will be doing in ten years and how i will get there. my future is set before me and thus far it has progressed exactly how i predicted it would. i was born alone. i shall fulfill a life alone. it is the only way permissible. but i must say it is not by choice. for if there were another way i assure you i would have taken it.

my words fall upon deaf ears and blind eyes. there is only so much humanity can take. i understand that. which is why i know that the only person that can help me is myself. it is solely up to me when it comes to my earthly salvation. i did not created the monster that lies within, but i trained it; i nurtured it and raised it into its current state. i have brought it about from being exclusively carnivorous to a point of preferring vegetation. perhaps this has something to do with a form of personal punishment, or remembrance rather. for i shall not forget where i came from.

love remains unchanged. reserved only for those who are unconventional which augments all complication into a vast chasm of complexity. but when adoration is born, it scourges the body in way so unbearable that it creates distaste for such frivolities. yet the mind remains unchecked; the will is wild and relationship implants itself in a permanent position.

i know not how long this charade will last. it is wearisome. it is exhausting. it is self-demeaning. i must heal. i must let go. but these are the very poisons which torment me incessantly. if a mountain lies behind me, an infinite precipice awaits.

again i am troubled with my undying love for the impossible. how it torments me! i bring new meaning to the phrase "a league of his own." no matter how hard i try, i cannot fit into the social box which has been approved for me. i am floundering.

it is time. the regime that currently stands in iran must be toppled. it is time for the world to rid itself of this festering blister and shed the irksome government that has tormented many for too long. as it stands, they have been allowed to exist long enough. they have had opportunity and peaceful invitations to change, yet they tarry. furthermore, it is not as if they do so privately or to remain unnoticed; rather, they foment malcontentedness throughout the world in the form of fear and murder. the monster that grows in the east must be crushed with the swift hand of the west or the body which is the earth will rip itself apart.

Need I say more?

why must my eyes set upon a feast of which i cannot partake? i dream the impossible. i imagine the unrealistic. i take not of beauty and i set forth to appreciate it. is like mindedness really that hard to find? maybe. these questions and more weigh heavily on my mind.

perhaps one of the most motivating factors of life is the artful state of waiting; especially for that which shall never be achieved. i constantly find myself in a period of anticipation for what is to come. rarely am i satisfied by simple stasis. the cure for this discomfort is found in a stainless steel shaker, and poured gently through a stream of rocks. here ends my vagueness.

humans naturally desire to be bonded with those who are similar to themselves; though it is not uncommon for the same to crave the dissimilar. the predicament that is so frustrating is when one finds himself stuck in the category of not fitting into a specific category. that is to say that one finds himself neither lion nor lamb, neither vodka nor gin. instead he finds himself floating along in a classification of miss fits whom are rarely understood by either side of an argument or alignment.

i suppose there must be some danger in finding that fond likeness in another person. for this is when one ceases to search. he does not lift his eyes to the horizon, and he lays flat on the ground as he drinks from the stream. with his vulnerability at critical levels he can expect to be met with the striking blow of disappointment and rejection. a man has but only a limited amount of love to give while he is in the world, and unfortunately it is not renewable.

perhaps one day the man shall collide with another who is his balance. one who fears providence. one who does not justify but rather loves. but this is yet another dream of such fantastic proportions that it too shall never see an end.

My Trip to Maine

Day 1

The first day of such an adventure is always a cumbersome one, depending on one’s view of somewhat strenuous travel. That is to say there is no easy way to get to our cozy little corner of the great state of Maine. About two hours from Bangor, which has the nearest submainstream air field, Pleasant Pond lies deep within the remote stillness of the green state; a novelty which seems to be quickly disappearing in the United States and the rest of the world today.

The car ride to Caratunk, the little “town” which borders our pond, is not unpleasant, though it is neither very interesting nor unique. In fact, it is very similar to driving through parts of the southern Midwest of America. If you were to stop along the way at a convenience store perhaps, you might encounter some friendly folk, or at least a very congenial atmosphere. Mainers pride themselves on their generally pleasant dispositions, though some would argue that they equally treasure their social quirks. That will be discussed more in depth later.

When the car pulls up to the camp, there is a sensation that the trip is not fictional but very real. The arduous travel is suspended until the inevitable return journey, but all one can process is the utter beauty before him, drenched in the dew of sweetness and natural purity that Maine has to offer. The car door opens, and it is not quiet. No, nature is full of life. One can hear the soft patter of trickling rain upon the ground; the trees above rustling their leaves to the wind. Then a bird chirps cheerfully in the distance, singing praise for the rain. All is not quiet here, no; all is vibrant, full of life, truly alive!

Naturally when man first arrives in the wilderness he is first smitten with awe and reverence for the great outdoors. Give it a few minutes though, and he will begin processing how he can “conquer” the newly found land. It is perfectly natural for him to think in this manner and he will devise a plan to provide him shelter, comfort, those things which are afforded to him in the more heavily populated areas of the world.

For us, our camp is our refuge among the wildlife. Sitting afoot a clearly blue lake (or as some call it, a moderately large pond), our camp gleams in the distance from all directions. The cabin itself is adorned with carefully selected slats of birch and pine, with a green trim roof crowning all sides. The woods spill down from the hills above, coming up to our doorstep, but being careful not to sweep us into the pond. Birch and pine and ash and maple are planted all around, with flowers indigenous and exotic adorning the lengths of the camp.

This is a beautiful place of wonder and excitement, though its own tranquility quite often tricks the minds of its visitors who mistakenly believe they will be without a care or numb during their stay. Yes, one might leave behind his worries of the busy world but most assuredly he will take on new thoughts, new ideas that will drive him daily to think of what’s coming next during his temporal life among greens. This haven is not a drug or a hallucinogen; it does not fix the mind with substance based euphoria. Rather, it entreats the spirit to come alive and breathe the breath of life, sending the soul to new heights of joy and creativity. Truly the mind is released to honesty and the heart is given to genuine love.

Day 2

The morning comes quickly the first full day in bliss. The air is crisp and cold; the wooden slats in the floor are chilly, beckoning for the Franklin stove to be lit. Clothed in comfy pajamas and warm slippers, one cannot wait to ascend the creaky stairs up to where the warmth of the stove is waiting for all. The house begins to bustle, its residents moving around tending to the fire, making coffee and toasting bread in the oven. Everything is moving. Everything is breathing. Everything is alive!

As the mind is slowly released, pensiveness turns to cognitive progression. The woods entreat the brain to quicken its pace. Thoughts immediately focus on religion; that awkward subject which makes people cringe when it is brought up at dinner. From there, thinking predictably shuffles through the political issues of the day: abortion, the “disgraced” senator from Idaho, the ailing press secretary, the bomb threats, the five year old driver, the mortgage crisis, the economic upswing and finally the ongoing threat of terror. It is only then one realizes why he escaped to this respite in the first place.

Despite the negativity of the so called real world, there is much positivism in examining the nagging issues of reality from a place of clarity, a place of a more pure perspective. Here the camp releases prejudices and relieves preconceived ideas about most situations. For instance: wars seem less destructive, a mere triviality of human existence. Normalcy becomes curiosity while the queer turns to trite. This is what the purer forms of nature do: ravage the world of mankind.

In keeping with the themes of release, which commonly occur on day two, it must be said that one will most definitely encounter others while on this adventure. Friends and neighbors will undoubtedly process forth from the woodwork telling stories, making food and enjoying company. Families and loved ones will circle up, pass the wine and crack the legs of the lobster, regaling each other with compliments and legends of those who have passed. “Why did the men have to go first?” is uttered by tipsy tongues, but a very lucid point is made. “I’ve known your family for thirty years!” is shouted across the table. Over and again stories are told, love is passed with the potatoes around the platform of fellowship.

The day passes quickly, more rapidly than the night before, and soon all are still in their beds—save for a quiet conversation between two siblings who have known each other for sixty years. Eventually even their kinship is trumped by heavy eyes and they are drawn to their nests. Now the camp is quiet; the cabin creaks here and there but all are sleeping, gently awaiting the coming of the new day.


Day 3

By now one has grown quite accustomed to his new surroundings. He is almost through reading the novel which was supposed to take him the better part of a week to finish. He has made progress on the book he is writing and he has completed the most challenging crossword puzzle. To say that he has reached the pinnacle of his bodily and mental exfoliation would be accurate, although it does not seem to do the experience justice.

High winds and a slight chill on the air accompany the rower in his kayak on the way to South Beach. He makes excellent time getting there but his trip home takes twice as long due to the heavy gusts. During his nautical adventure he ponders the life waiting for him back at home. He shudders to acknowledge that his vacation will be ending in two days time. Friends and family come to mind, and he thinks of his condo in the city. So many people. So many things. It is tiring to belabor such matters while manning a twelve foot seafaring craft against the wind.

The seafarer wonders if he should tire from his timed strokes. Would the distance prove to be too great? These questions linger amid all other obstacles of life while collectively his ponderousness gone astray distracts him from the task at hand. Mightily he pumps his arms, arches his back and tightens his stomach. He pushes through the brisk wind and waves to finally reach his destination. Surely global warming must be a farce, for he had seen no evidence of an increasingly warmer climate this day! Relieved by his accomplishment he settles down to his daytime reading.

Oh the dinner parties! On the pond, no night is simply ordinary. Every night, however, is complete with a social gathering of friends and loved ones who come together for food and fellowship. Tonight a prayer is offered. God is thanked and praised, though not all hearts are sincere in their actions. It is interesting, though, that humans feel the need to give glory to God when they look upon a great feast.

As the night draws the day to a close, feelings of youthful passion spring up. It is commonplace for the camp to evoke romantic affections and often these emotions are not realized until the limpidness of nature brings them to light. And the intensity of these sensations is augmented with each remaining day. These are the sentiments which give us the strength to embark on the journey home. Otherwise, we might merely transform into a bulwark, remaining in our satiated state eternally.

So these quixotic impulses which are universally regarded to be impractical and unreliable actually bring us back to sensibility. Our compass is recalibrated. Our direction is refreshed. Now there is a special someone waiting for our return. And we can finally picture our return without disdain. Giddiness is a side effect and is only overcome with the diversion of a petty task such as reading or house cleaning. We await the impending days, imagining imminent fondness and our eventual return to the forest accompanied by the one we love.


Day 4

The heart is pricked with the sharpness of anxiety as it realizes that the days here are numbered. Only two full days in utopia remain. Cruelly betrayed by Machiavellian emotions, one is torn by his desire to stay and the urgency to tend to his love afar. What little time is left will prove to be increasingly difficult as this tension will swell.

This day was made for all things outdoors. Paddling the kayak across the lake to view the beaver dams. Ascending the mountaintop to take into account the panoramic vista. Soaking up the summer sun and the healing power it has to offer. Today the water is calm. The wind is tame. The sun is unhindered by objectionable storm clouds. Surely this day was planned with intent; its perfection gleaming from every rock, tree and hill, reflecting on a sea of glass.

Thoughts today return to science. Is the lake water more alkaline or is it acidic? What is the status of the fish population? What kind of algae survives in this habitat, and is it in danger of extinction due to the introduction of an-other species? Will the water always be this pure? Will mankind eventually dirty the water?

For seventy years now the pond has not been affected by the surrounding human population. Many would argue this is precisely because of the care which the Pleasant Ponders have given to this lake for the better part of a century. They have pledged their lives to protecting this mass of water, and their children have learned this value, stepping in line to take over the midnight watch. That is what this place does to a person. It builds values and strengthens character. Fervor for the defenseless reaches its acme and one is empowered to fend off all evils.

The tug-of-war that is global warming sweeps over the intellect. One cannot help but mull over this topic repeatedly. The theories on this matter are tossed about like papers in the desk of second grader. The media chooses a stance and force feeds it down society’s throat, just as a kidnapper would gag his victim. They don’t want anyone to have a say, save for the zombies who are programmed to spit out what is being fed to them by the spoon of the teleprompter. Backless, boneless, seedless and sugar free is what the world is becoming. Encouraged to dope up on the mind numbing drug of conformity, citizens of the planet are choosing captivity over freedom at a disturbing rate.

No side, either for or against the theories which state that the earth is warming, has proven anything remotely conclusive. The environmentalist hacks, just like religious fanatics, expect all people to have faith in their church of fear, based upon a hundred or so years of research. For a planet that they claim to be billions of years old, that does not seem like enough information to draw any type of responsible conclusion. But they know the facts, and if you don’t agree with them, you must be a cold, heartless republican who is responsible for hurricane Katrina.

Scientists who are unafraid to point out the inconclusiveness of the limited research however, are slow in forming more studies themselves. Few care about doing the work. It seems that celebrities and failed politicians find it easy to make movies spewing fear and rhetoric from their religious machine. People might take these characters more seriously if they would unhinge themselves from their plush lifestyles of gulf stream travel and multiple mansions and personally make the needed sacrifice.

Then it is time to calm down. Thoughts turn to time and space and the relation to the infinite vortex of light. Will man eventually catch up with light? Will he exceed the speed of light, catching up with the original flicker? Will he meet God at the end of this tunnel? Only time will tell. For now, the boundless splendors of purest nature will content the heart, as the kayak makes its way back to the dock.


Day 5

Bittersweet. The only conceivable description of the final day. Tomorrow travel resumes and its wear on the body is duly noted. One refuses to get out of bed this morning because he knows that once awake, the time will fly by and in a fleeting moment it will be nightfall. Oh, the dreadfulness of the last day! It will be glorious though, as the celebration will be at its highest.

One last trek into the woods; a last voyage on the waves. The hours fly, and the sun sling shots through the sky. Glorious Maine, in all its splendor, luminous above all of man’s creation, the land basks gently in the rays of the sun. These past days of reflection and refreshment will leave with the traveler. Onward to home and upward in life, one does not forget what is learned here, what is gained. Carefully calculated and calculated carefully, the journeyman will remember this place with great fondness as he is imbibed once more into the vastness of life.

the account of my travels to maine will be posted shortly.

insured. assured. whatever. it means nothing.
but i will be debt free, and that's everything?
at least one person will benefit from my life
and he deserves it, lord knows he does.

in other news my sanity slowly returns
quietly i regain my senses, which were lost a day ago
my nerves reached a pinnacle; my mind numbed
and i was shot down off of my horse to the ground

new friends. new places. utter disconnect.
but then that is what this life is about eh?
nothing matches, nothing makes sense, nothing is logical
at least not to our mind's eye, for we were not first

here ends the ridiculousness of this post
but my sentiments remain. i try to answer, to exist
yet my thoughts are cast by the wayside, to the dust
my utter being plunged into the depths of the forgettable

a starry night spreads vastly across a sea of grass
the glistening sky reflects upon the green slopes
repeating valleys bring the scape together
all of the land waits for a still small voice

flying hearts, beating against the wind
sail swiftly toward the rising tide of storm clouds
the brief shrieks of thunder flash across the sky
their fiery veins coil and contort to reach afar

this heart never stops. i do not know if it ever will. the arms of togetherness cannot seem to touch me, and their grasping only strengthens my resolve. it has been said to me that if i want it, i will do it--or i will obtain it. i can see that being true; however, i am my biggest obstacle. whether or not i want something has absolutely nothing to do with getting it. this would rely entirely on the fragility of my will. and those who know me also know that i am a bulwark of confidence when it comes to decision making.

shall my unjust love forever hang in the balance? will i remain or will i go? do i stand firmly on the ground, or do i take the inevitable plunge? to these questions and more i do not know the answer. i anxiously await my turbulent future, and perhaps i just might survive the bloody war which is sure to be fought.

the franciscan way

i have recently come to the conclusion that a celibate life, though possibly a lonely life, is a very productive life! that is, provided one does not become distracted with the "wonders" of the world--to which one could just as easily be married. with a bit of concentration, some creative thinking and a strong will one can achieve that which might officially mark his life as productive. of course production is measured differently by varying peoples and cultures.

i have not under any duress nor despair come to any of these conclusions. sheer logic continues to be a driving force in my life. my decision process is really quite simple: i identify a problem or issue, then i clearly define it and consider all applicable factors, form a specific plan to fully reason the issue and execute that plan. without fail, this process continually leads to a decisive end.

the for mentioned logic of which i spoke is not some ethereal force i have especially discovered; rather, it is that which has always brooded over humanity, ever begging our free use of all that it has to offer--though mankind has not always taken a liking to it. this rejection alone defies the very existence of logic, as betterment and benefit is surely to be gained from such a bedfellow.

emotion, however, takes over and suddenly it seems easier to blow up a bus full of infidels. i am reminded of scene from the story of hannibal lecter. when mason verger, a patient of the cannibalistic doctor, was asked why he willingly tore his own flesh from his face, he responded, "it seemed like a good idea at the time." the deranged doctor had so poisoned his patient's mind with intoxicating distraction that verger was driven to do himself harm simply based on the notion of a temporal good idea. the point of this story is that humans, for reasons known only to god, have historically chosen the self destructive path while being fully aware of the better way.

in the immediate present, the path i am exploring could have some negative effects, but i wonder if the long term results will prove to be extremely beneficial. i will begin the process of placing myself in a more permanent independent position. this house of cards could fall, but at least the attempt alone might yield conclusions which will satisfy my mental wanderlust.

f the news

i will only say this once: i am so sick and tired of hearing what some "correspondant" has to say... especially when it comes to the war in iraq. that is so yesterday. don't think i'm cold, i am simply a representation of the american people. one day, they will be on one side, the easy side; the next day, they will be on the complete oposite side, due to peer pressure and popular dislike. what a fickle society. i am happy to say i am not a part of such a travesty. they can have their cake, but unfortunately, they will not eat it as the predatory world around them will eat them and their cake.

why do people have this incredibly audacious idea that the world operates on their time? i grow weary of those who do not respect the time or patience of others, only so that they might not feel the stress of punctuality. now of course, many of you will say, "well jack is always late to the party or hangout" to which i will respond that though indeed many times this is true, it is always quite fashionable, expected and dependable. i at least will show up--with bells on. the offenders of whom i speak take no guilt in cancelling their plans at the last minute. that, in my opinion, is unforgivable.

changing winds

i know many of you have grown weary of my prose
i know that it can be difficult to be interested
therefore, i am taking a short break from my usual style
and i will write of my life from a different perspective

enjoy. or hate.

first, i will address something about which all of you are curious. and the answer is no. at least, not at this time. it is not the right time (by the way, in case you had not noticed, i have chosen to leave some of my more ambiguous stylings in tact). the point is, do not wonder nor worry, for i have yet to embark on such an adventure... or at least purchase a one way ticket.

that being said, i miss many of you. you know who you are! let me say that you need to return my phone calls because it is rude to ignor your friends and to pretend that you are too busy to talk. we all know that we all screen and we pick and choose with whom we will talk. get over it and pick up the phone people! you know i would do it for you--but not forever if it is one sided.

i will be hosting a housewarming party toward the end of august/early september. rather than send out a massive number of invites, i thought i would gauge interest by asking all who are interested to respond, and then i will extend to you an invitation. i detest pandoring.

unthinkable. unfavorable.
predictable. impalpable.

untrusting.
selfish.

this world shall fall
no, not at the fault of global warming
for that is certainly a truth that is false
but at the hand of humanity and his ignorance

this country, new rome, shall be one of the first
one of the first to crumble, but last to fall
we will not have the pleasure of dying first
we will witness the last drop of blood spill

this country is filled with masochists who are hungry
bloodlust running wild, encouraged by ideal liberalism
will surely engulf every last one of us
whether or not we inject the heroin ourselves

be tollerant, we are told, and others will tollerate you
that is until their militant hearts take hold
let your children choose, and they will have peace
let your women choose, and their guilt will wash away

murder god, jesus and the holy spirit
and you will wipe out hunger, war and hate
planes crash and buildings fall
then you will come crawling back to church

this nation deserves what is coming by god's wrath
and i for one am dreading that great and terrible day
most assuredly, i have contributed to our guiltiness
and i shall pay my fair share, but still i fear

no one knows it's coming. no one thinks it's coming.
and nobody would believe it's coming
for our hearts have been poisoned, deadened
we are keen only to our self gratification

the day approaches