Holding off...or how to be a benevolent dictator in seven minutes or less

So the suicide article will have to wait until tomorrow. I want to spend tonight on a more positive note. This idea comes from my friend James Kenworthy:

If I were a dictator, I would be benevolent. I would do this in the following ways:

Education: Required of everyone. Students could move at their own pace socially, and would be required to cover all subjects. They could select their own path within those subjects, but they must prove some basic knowledge in both. Starting from the age of five, and moving forward. The goal would not the memorization simply of facts, but finding ways those facts work together in an individuals mind. Classes would be split up not by age, but by observations made by trained professionals who would not be bound to an outcome or a curriculum, but would have the ability to adapt to student needs.

Care for the maladjusted: People would be taught to care. Not in some hippy dippy way, but in a way that promotes the idea that what you are feeling know, others are feeling as well, That as a human, I can never feel exactly what you are feeling, but I-the subject-have the ablity to come close, and with this thought in mind, I take care of others. If someone for psychological reasons can not adapt, a healthy outlet of some type would be provided. Killers and future dictators into artists, and managers on special projects like conservation.

Science and Art: I would give a ton of funding to both to face current crisis. Now I know after having read Carl Sagan's A Demon Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark that not all revolutionary ideas come simply from funding, but I feel that there are some certain social problems e.g. lack of resources on this planet, that could be solved by giving the right people money to experiment. In addition, if you're not on board, you receive no money whatsoever. TAKE THAT FOR PROFIT INDUSTRY THAT STANDS IN THE WAY OF ECOLOGICALLY BALANCED PROGRESS.

Religion: Believe what you want. Talk about your believes, engage in them. If you don't like someone else's, you are free to make your own sub-culture that adheres to those ideas. Good, bad, or ugly, that freedom is yours, but it is freedom. If you attempt to take away those rights politically or otherwise, we will use science to ship you somewhere else. I plan to have an amazing space program.

Basically if you look at all of these you can see a theme: educate yourself and have compassion. Push your mind, your body, you are your own hero. You don't need Batman if you can find a way to make sure your place doesn't turn into Crime Alley yourself. As your dictator with all the resources in the world, it is the only law: be generous with yourself and your capabilities in all that you do. You are your own hero.

The Atomic Anti-Hero Reporter signing off.

Tomorrow's Post

Hey there. Sorry for the lack of well written and thought out posts the last few days. It's been a little rough.

On that note I want to talk about tomorrow's article. I'll be spending a little more time on it as it will be on a sensitive subject: Suicide.

In the past four years, I've been through a lot of death, and growing up in Seattle I was no stranger to suicide. A lot of times it would just be people O.D.'ing with no note.

I just want to take a few minutes and couch a few issues:

One, I'm usually tongue in cheek with these blogs, tomorrow will be a more serious note.

Two, usually I do not edit, and just give it to you straight as it comes, but because of the gravity of tomorrow's subject, it might come out Sunday. I'll be printing out a copy of the writing, maybe going over it with a friend or two, and generally making sure my thoughts connect. I want to give this article the time it deserves.

Three,  I will be going into a lot of personal things. If you feel like this is either a cry for help, or you feel this is a cry for help, feel free to turn off. It is a subject I need to work through in a safe place, and there is not a lot of those in NYC. The bartender Kenneth, the owner Simon, and I were all talking about the subject of space in NYC and we agreed:

Kenneth; I think the theme of New York is how much you can shove into one place.

It's true, which means there are not a lot of safe places out there. The internet is one of the few you can voice your thoughts, and being odd, or maladjusted is just part of the game.

In other words, if you feel like the subject of taking your own life, as narrated by me, will upset, offend, or otherwise make a negative impact on you in anyway, please like so many other things, you just don't have to read.

There you go.

In other news: Work is getting better. I have to work harder, and I sweat a lot, but that means I'll just have to start working out more. Woooo Motivation!

Hope you are having a brilliant night all!

P.S. Just so I can remember, I might become a food runner tomorrow!!!

so no two posts

I usually allow myself to have days off as you know days off. Hungover, tired, and relaxing watching T.V. or surfing tumblr. it's nice just to have a day to relax. sigh. ugh ad hurts and rambling. nothing good is coming out tonight. just words. words words oooo the door it opened. cold shower coming. mind of a drug addict and one tired person. going to bed early up by 9 do laundry come home go to work madness. should have cleaned today. no urge. mmmm nooo urge. just wanna lie here and sleep. would love two days off in a row. love love love. cold shower here I come. Everyone does it, why not you? Making peace with my friends. Madness. Sparta. So tired. So insane. Just want to sleep. Can't wait. Pooping, sleeping, night time. Mmmm sleep by midnight. such a luxury. NYC. Everywhere is hell. Can't make it to 500 words tonight. Drank too much last night. Escaping. Guns pointed at me. Coney Island. East Coast, West Coast, Best Coast, Rest Coast. Mmmm America. Goodnight my friends.

What I don't want to talk about.

My day. My writing. My train ride home. My love life. My anything. I want to be in a world so unlike this, or so like this that is not this at all. Something made up, and away from the desk light or the Futon bed, or my laundry, or ironing. they say life is in the mundane but god i have an imagination. why not use it? i want to live in a world with people good and bad with problems we haven't thought of yet, and jesus i just want life to be adventure time. he my memory is going to shit. well not shit but i just have these moments where my brain stops. just like leaves and i'm just speaking a foreign language. burn out from drugs? probably. sigh no drugs either?  

what's left? the human condition? history? anthropology? technology? so so much. so many worlds to explore, and too. Dr. Who! Pop culture! Now! Science fiction! old stories! new stories! myths a million myths! online theater courses! pure dada dada dada! writing exercises  to expel the demons. mad adrenaline  rush's after foolish acting. blowing yourself up, imploding! birthday sayings, madness, pure madness. god hell 

you know what will talk about hell for a minute. 

a friend of mine drew a picture of him holding up his hand like a claw with this face contorted and his tongue sticking out. It looks like rage. the other night after drinking he looked at the picture and said "this is my mind, most of the time." I don't know if he meant to say it out loud. 

I look at him and ask "really?" with an expression that feels like to me of pure fear and empathetic pain.

and he says "Most times. Yeah."

and we move on.

We talk about hell he says to me "Only a child would believe in hell."

My drunken witty remark is "Well we all know I'm a child."

Now that I think about it, it's because my face is not one of rage. It's one of emotional breakdown. People talk about breaking down and crying at night when they first get here. For me it's morning. There are no tears. There is no rage. Just panic and fear, and more fear, and not wanting to move because I'm afraid I'll go catch the train to  hall and throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge, or wait until I can get my check cashed and buy a ticket home and throw myself off the Golden Gate. My home. Home home home. But i would do it here, one more body in front of NYC hell. 

But what's stops me is yes, science has proven that the body just ends, there is no soul, no afterlife because without the body there is no life. But what if there is? What if i could get worse than this? I don't want to risk it, and so I get up, get ready, and rush to the train. Fuck. Too personal?

Not work, not writing, not drugs, not my day. It is part of days, but it is not my day. Just part of it.

Your Atomic Anti-Hero Reporter Signing Off.

Dear Sweet Sleep

A minor miracle. I slept so much last night. I needed it. Since I've started this job I have lost seven pounds, and it see I'm losing more each day. I only eat once per day, then I run up and down stairs. This means I will start running again, and push-ups, and sit-ups, and stretching. Mmmm solo I can afford yoga again. Mmmmm my back. 

Also looks like they're paying me for my research job until October. Well there's an extra $100 bucks a week. That's helpful. So yeah writing about life. I hope it's just a phase and I can get back to making up fiction. True fiction. Tonight I do have to edit the cracked.com article I'm working on. I was gonna do it yesterday, and then I couldn't fall asleep till 9:00am. Hat screwed up my day and my roommates came home just as I finished cleaning the house. D'oah. 

I love this. I miss a journal entry which I usually post about 4:00am, and now I can update while on the train to work. What a horribly beautiful century. 

I like my roommates new heard. Wonder if I should tell him. 

It's Monday and I have the nicest boxers aka the most mainstream ones underneath he black leather jacket my ex gave me, black jeans, and my Dying Child Tavern shirt complete with dead baby. 

I like being normal underneath. It's part of why I write. I want to go to a job that's difficult but I know I chose, and is something wholly me. In addition I want what most normal people want: house, wife, kids, for people to be nice to each other. 

Normal people to to jobs, although my programmer friends seem to have it pretty good. Maybe I should try to work for them. All I'd have to do is study my ass off, and we all know how much I love technology. Maybe ill do thst in the next life, and I don't mean metaphorically. They say it takes seven years to become excellent at something. I've been doing theater for seven years like full time, and I'm comfortable with the fact I'm good at it. Give me any job and it might take awhile and a little trial and error and I am a slow student sometimes...but when I get if, I get it. It just clicks. So writing, teaching in Japan, then computer science. Why not? And at the end I can retire to a Taoist templeand contemplate    it all, and come back with want I've learned. This is life. Live it. We could be on a hell planet for all we know.

On that chipper note:

Until later tonight, your Atomic Anti-Hero Reporter Signing Off. 

Minister Minister

Fuck yeah 21st century! I might be marrying my friend Molly next week online. I don't want to jinx it, but! I could officiate the wedding and everything, being a member of the universal church of life. YEAH WEDDING TIME! Like okay by marrying online I mean I would Skype in and marry her to her man Noah. Holy shit how cool is that? I'm so excited I could and will do this:

SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

All right work related notes. Getting better. Tonight was not as busy, and I don't have to quenelle the fucking butter anymore. If you don't know what quenelling is it's this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kJOo67Xrqc

Now for those of you that know me, I might be a decent actor, and a fairly good stage manager, and I'm great at research, but working with my hands, not so much. The pastry chef took one look at my progress for the past week and asked "how long did it take you to do those?"  Referring to the 14 quenelles of lardo aka whipped pig back fat I made

I replied "oh about 25 minutes."

He just shook his head and said "For the love of God. Okay I'm going to do those from now on. It'll take me like two seconds."

I just stare at him with a blank face and he gives me a look like "What?"

And so I come back with "Oh my God, Thank You. This has been the biggest part of my stress at work each day. I can not thank you enough."

He just starts laughing and says "Well that's what we're here for. To help each other out."

So that's a plus. I'm catching up at work. I polish shit all day which isn't too bad, but without another runner when we have all of those guests...I'm still fucked...and the Chef thinks so too which means we will most likely be getting someone else to run food aka a runner, and it might be meee! I won't hold my breath though. I'm just happy not to be dicking off with the butter anymore, even though they call me "The Butter Somme" at work. It means I know how to temper butter. This place is like high school with better pay.

Some key notes from tonight:

Kirk: This restaurant is Hell.

Me: New York is Hell with some great views!

Also:

Kirk: I can't stand it here.

Me: You know what gets me through? That at the end of the day tired and beat I can call myself a writer because what stands between most people and writing is that they don't sit down and do it. I go home and I write my 500 words. I don't even edit at this point, it's just the act of sitting down and doing it. Then, who knows, if I'm lucky, in a year or two I'll actually start writing something good. That's why I never talk back or say anything at work. I have something to go home to. It's not much but it gets me through.

Kirk: You are a beautiful genius of a man. A fool of a man, but a beautiful genius as well. Too bad ain't nobody gonna see that here.

Also:

Me; Chef Chris?

Chef Chris: Yeah?

Me: Thank you for all your patience with me this week.

Chef Chris: (looks back and forth and looks at me trying to decide if I'm kissing his ass or what to make of what I just said, then holds out his hand and shakes mine) Be Good. I'll see you on Monday.

Also Oh! This is adorable and a super happy memory! I went out on an internet date with my friend Gwen. She bought herself and I pizza off the net. She got herself Woodstock's in Santa Cruz, and she go met Papa John's because I live in a quiet part of Brooklyn. We then proceeded to watch Bob's Burgers at the same time on Netflix, and chat about it on Facebook! Seriously! 21st Century.

Anyway, off to sleep. Must clean before the roommates get home tomorrow, and if I am doing that wedding, I want to start working on the writing, and I want to edit my cracked.com article and! and and and! If it's nice out I want to go to Central Park with a packed lunch, and read The Satanic Verses. Big plans people! Woooo for days off!

Your Atomic Anti-Hero Reporter, Signing off!

A little something from word!

This is from when I was on a pot cookie the other day which started my writing break:

Good Morning my dear reader!

Welcome to pompous town for a minute because I’m in front of the screen on Word instead of directly to Blogger format. The internet is down; and it is my day off, so I am up late.  I’m smoking cigarettes, and drinking beer. My namesake got the decadence part, but in our generation being more Dionysian, and limiting our debauchery to specific times is amazing. For me it is my day off. Tomorrow at 8:00 because if I don’t pass out I’ll head down to the Social Security office, so I can get my card. Oh god. I’m tired even writing that. It’s been a long day. Maybe I’ll get up roughly the same time as Bodger. ACK, Sleep! But I do enjoy the city all sleep dep’ed out. I know this from a priori knowledge. I know I love sleep dep, and I love the city. However, this is also a fallacy of composition. I also know from my teacher Ted Warburton, dance comes from body. Dance I surmise is a series of actions, and when the body is in certain states it is better equipped to handle situations. For instance, body that has stayed up all night eating a pot cookie is more suited to sleeping and going to read comics then going to bed early the next day than it is to handling the social security office In addition, a body that has rested and gone to bed is more apt to be able to be there by 11:00am, and be to work by 4:00pm.

Anyway these are the nitty gritty details of just getting by. You’re here for adventure!

Tonight in classic new to the city fashion I was so tired I got on the wrong train. I was headed deep into Harlem at 1:30am. I got off the train, and ended up riding /sitting next to a woman in a white lace dress, brown boots, and tattoo’s. She sits down next to me, and I can’t help be excited. Her name is Drew, although I didn’t find that till it was her stop.  When she got on, it was at the same stop that looked a little sketch. She sat down next to me. Bodger says “It was probably a safety in numbers thing.”  I couldn’t help but notice. I then couldn’t concentrate on my book, so I began singing “Of Montreal’s” City Bird off their Satanic Panic in the Attic which just happened to be on. Then we both thought we missed our stop at the same time and bolted up. Then the train got stuck, so I felt nervous about sitting down next to her  after we had gotten up, so I started dancing. Oh, and this whole time she’s writing in her book. We get off at the same stop, which because of the way she’s dressed and the neighborhood I assume is her’s. She cross’s towards the escalator, catch’s me checking her out, then walks over and stares at me from a good distance away. She does this for awhile, and a couple of times. I don’t know what to do, so I step behind a pillar in one swift, overacted moment.

o

Now to be fair, I’m stopping because I am over my 500 word count and I’m taking the advice of Ernest Hemingway who says to stop when you’re hot because then you’ll want to finish. Let’s see if it works because when I wake up I’ll do the dialogue!

YAYA!