Michael Jackson

So, as the world knows, Michael Jackson died a couple of days ago.  It actually made me sad.  I was in serious disbelief when I was told, and had to turn to the never-lying internet to confirm the reports.  And when I actually believed it, I felt sad.  I felt like there was a big loss in this world.  I grew up listening to Michael, and, as a child of the eighties, know probably 20 songs by heart.  I always rooted for Michael, even through his tough times, and had hoped for his continued success in the tour planned in London in July.  In any event, it's sad he's left, but I can't help but think he's probably more at ease now.  And we still have his music.  For that, I thank him.  Cause I love me some Man in the Mirror and Dirty Diana.  

So last night we had a celebration of Michael Jackson here at the bar.  We had considered making a formal tribute night, but last night was organic.  It sprung from nowhere (maybe me playing MJ for the past two days straight, maybe from some serious intoxication of two close friends).  But we danced.  And we listened to MJ all night.  And we danced.  It was another of those loving nights here at the bar.  The nights that made it all worthwhile (as if the view didn't).  It was nice to have one more before I leave.  And it was nice that four of the five of the Pistachio crew were here.  Pepper wore her Jackson Five t-shirt that was purchased at Ropa Americana on our roadtrip to Manuel Antonio.  I sported the hat that I stole from someone on that same trip, and a latex glove from the kitchen (not a lot of glove options in Costa Rica, it seems).  Very cool.  

Here are some pics.  

Oh, and as a side note.  As I was waiting for the pics to upload, Scott and I played a couple of games of horseshoes.  I took the gold, and as Scott put it "there's nothing wrong with Bronze."  It seems as though our star center, Bubba, came in second in our round robin, in spite of not showing.  

Neil

So, a few days or weeks ago I introduced Neil.  In that introduction, I noted that he was a good friend until he started doing heroine and beating his wife.  And then I noted that that was not true.  

I got a call from my Dad today, who told me he had heard that Neil is doing heroine and beating his wife.  He doesn't read this blog.  

So, first, I want to say sorry to Neil.  

Secondly, I want to make it VERY clear that Neil does NOT do heroine NOR beat his wife.  At least not at the same time.  

Third, I want to make it VERY clear that Neil also does NOT do heroine AND beat his wife at the same time.  As far as you know.  

Sorry Neil.  I hope this doesn't have any lasting effects on your business or your social life (if you had one to begin with).  As for those of you that I love but can't read or understand a joke (I do love you Merry), PLEASE call everyone you know.  And I mean EVERYONE you know.  And let them know that Neil, while a poor whistler, does NOT shoot up NOR abuse his wife, whether simultaneously or sequentially.  

I can't believe I had to write this blog.  

Meet the New Manager - Scott

This is Scott.  AKA Poynter.  AKA Scotty ViP.  AKA Deubler.  AKA Mr. LowTide Lounge. 

Scott is taking over as manager of the LowTide, effective Sunday.  Sunday.  Sunday.  Scott hails from Antarctica, although has spent many of his formative years floating on a raft in the middle Pacific, bartering with seagulls for scraps of food and news from the South.  Scott was raised by his mother, Shaniquia Maleeka, which literally translated means "Shaniquia Maleeka", and his father, Frank.  Following a short career in the circus, Scott found his first calling as the head of the Society of Hitmen and International Transvestites, but after three years was fed up with SHIT and started his own business in sales and marketing of clothes made from leftover fish parts.  In spite of selling literally billions of dollars of clothes, Scott's entry into business came to a screeching halt when, after two years, Scott's "buy now pay later" plan failed after thousands of seagulls filed for Chapter 11 protection and their debt to Scott's company was sold for pennies on the dollar.  Embarrassed and defeated following the complete failure of his venture, the worthless and pathetic Scott found his way to Costa Rica.  Following a brief stint as forward and co-captain of the Esto Pistachios (who dribbled their way to a impressive 1-0 record), Scott convinced his teammate and co-captain to quit his absolutely wonderful job on the beach, and minutes later, coincidentally accepted the very same job.  

Scott has spent the last few days proving himself as the Senior Vice President of Dish Management Operations and Gasoline Retrieval  (SVP DMOGR) here at the LowTide, quickly working through the ranks to find himself in position to take over the grueling tasks of wandering around the bar aimlessly, hanging hammocks between the trees for an afternoon nap, and flirting with pretty girls.

We wish you luck Scott.  Good luck.

Right Now - 20/6/06 9:08 AM

Just opened the bar.  And I'm at the bar.  Surprise.  Waiting for the tide to come in a bit more, hoping for some surf.  I have not surfed hardly at all in the past two weeks.  Not sure what's going on there.  But it's time to change. 

I'm feeling okay.  I had a great dinner and drinks with a good friend and coworker last night, Pepper.  We ate at Karen's (Almendros), which is absolutely delicious.  We talked about everything from love to love.  She's on a mission to move to Australia to be with her boyfriend, Oz, who is in the process of moving there now (he's in New York for a week or two stop before heading down).  

We talked about my direction too.  I told her how I always have this feeling of wanting to move back to Oklahoma, but it's never now.  It's always in a few months that I feel I want to move back.  I wonder if it will ever be now when I move back.  Pepper is of the opinion (although neither of us like that word) that I should absolutely not move back.  "Keep moving forward.  You're bigger than Oklahoma."  Not that she has anything against Oklahoma, at all.  I think she is of the opinion that I am somehow destined to do more, or at least something different, than have a job, a house, a car, a family, and Friday night dinners at Applebee's.  

But here's the thing: I've always been a homebody (albeit my life experience and considerable travel suggest otherwise).  When I went to college, I would come home to Oklahoma on my Spring Breaks, not down to Cancun for a two week bender.  On the trips to Europe or Africa or Colorado, the best part was always coming home, to Oklahoma.  Oklahoma is comfortable.  And when I'm away from Oklahoma, I'm literally uncomfortable.  Always.  Not surprisingly, the one thing that I center my focus on when considering what I miss the most living in Costa Rica is curling up with a nice, thick, soft, smooth faux-down comforter.  

Hanging on Neil and Megan's couch, whether they're there or not.  Sitting around a chiminea on cool nights, crashing at Terry's when I've had too much to drink, holding my girlfriend as I fall asleep in my clean, open, air-conditioned room.  Dog parks, foosball, tippy-cup, office, computer, cell phone, car, weekends, lakes, Mamasita's with Doug, Ranch Party Weekends, horseshoes, televisions, movie theaters, hookers, sweaters, baseball, golf, sailing.  That's comfortable.  (You might have noticed one didn't seem to fit.  And it doesn't.  I hardly ever went to the movie theater.)

So, but those are all external comforts, of course.  I don't think I've reached that comfort that follows me wherever I am.  And perhaps it's because I can't rid myself of external comforts.  I'll never rid myself of support.  Sure, I'm more comfortable at home in Oklahoma, but I am comfortable here.  While I thought I didn't have anything when I moved down, it turns out I had everything.  I moved here with a thousand bucks and a job.  And my education, personality, intellect, hands.  And I moved to a place with people, and any time I'm around people, I'll be able to make it out alright.  I'll have places to stay, ways to make money and get food.  And even if I get away from people, and have no food and no money, I'm always just a phone call away from getting a flight back to home.  And so I'll always have support.  I'll never be able to have nothing.  I'll always have external comfort.  

I guess having external comforts doesn't stop a person from being comfortable simply with one's self.  It can't... there will always be some external comforts.  We can't be alone in this world, we can't be without food.  We can always seek solitude and fast, but that doesn't mean that people and food aren't available to us.  And that's a comfort.  

So, do I follow now what is comfortable, or do I do I keep going forward (here in Oeste, or somewhere else), perhaps until I am comfortable with myself?  Perhaps there is a middle way.  

And that's enough for now.  I'm going to go surf.  The waves are shitty, but I need to get out there (this isn't Russia, Danny).  Solstice is today (a surf competition in Hermosa).  Perhaps I'll try to swing by that.  I haven't felt like doing anything lately.  And I find myself feeling the same way right now.  Oh well.  

Going to Have to Change my Profile

About a week ago, one of the owners of the Lowtide threatened me in a way that he hadn't threatened me before - far more seriously and far more viciously.  Thomas, who is an intelligent, good looking, talented guy, has quite seriously an alter ego, known as Skinny, who thinks of himself as a gangster.  Skinny tends to, well, in my opinion, be a complete fucking asshole.  Which must absolutely suck for Thomas, who is kind and compassionate, and has to live with these demons inside of himself.  While it was unlikely he would back up his threats with action, he's unpredictable, and has certainly acted on his threats in ways that are, frankly, unbelievably violent.  His threats and taunts led me, for the first time, to feel unsafe at work, or even at home.  And so I took my things out of the office, found a safe place for my meager belongings, and slept at a place that a) wasn't at home; and b) wouldn't get someone else involved.  Basically, I just didn't want him to come looking for a fight when he got out of jail that night. (He had been put in jail for basically trying to fight everyone in town, using this bar as a home base and directing his anger at the bar across the street and everyone in it, including the cops.)  

I forgave Thomas right away.  Even during the threats and taunts, and the absurdity of his actions around this relatively tranquil town that night, I held no anger towards him.  Well, some.  I had visions of teaching him a lesson.  But I realized that it's not my job to help him.  It's not my job to change him.  It's not my job to teach him a lesson.  If I fought back, it wouldn't be for him, of course, it would be for my pride, for my ego.  And it might end up getting me shot or at least with some broken facial bones with a side of recurrent terrorizing.  Realizing how silly it would be for me to do anything other than nothing felt good.  I do have an ego to protect, but I don't WANT to have the ego in the first place, so protecting it would be the opposite of what I want to do.  And I'm certainly not in the business of changing other people, nor do I believe I could change him if I were in the business.  It's not my fight... it's his.  And so I took precautionary measures, and did nothing but stick around to give immediate permission for our staff to leave if things got even more out of control.  

I also decided to resign that evening.  

While I forgave Thomas immediately, feeling unsafe at work, and being threatened at work, by my boss of all people, is not something I want.  And God knows I don't need, well, anything.  Certainly not this job.  I love it here, but I'm kindof of the opinion these days that I can love it anywhere.  

The next day I called the other owners and let them know that I planned to resign, although I wouldn't leave the bar empty handed.  I was willing to stay for a bit to get the bar on solid ground before I took off, as long as the threatening owner wasn't around.  I had been informed that Thomas took off for the states the morning after he was put in jail, and so I felt safe without him around.  

My other bosses quickly bought out the problem, transferring money to Thomas for his shares in the bar and to my satisfaction, and I now feel safe here and in my house.  Thomas didn't appear to be returning any time soon either.  Perhaps resigning isn't something I need to do.  I do love it at this job.  There are some wonderful aspects: I'm on the beach.  I can surf almost any time I want.  I meet people from all around the world.  I get a lot of attention from pretty girls.  I love my house, Pepper the cat, being barefoot at work, watching the waves, Randall and the girls, Flaco, Shane and Sam.  Did I mention the attention from girls?  

But here's the thing, given all those wonderful things about this job, when I resigned I felt relieved.  I felt excited.  I felt, sorry Bob, good.  

After receiving an apology note from Thomas, indicating that he no longer has anything to do with the business and he has no intentions on returning any time soon, I decided to take a couple of days to decide whether or not I would resign.  I no longer felt unsafe at work, but the light that I felt when I did decide to resign was worth investigating, and I wanted to take some time to check in with myself after the ownership change.  I felt as though both my intellect and my emotions were making the case for me to keep it.  Although some emotions, especially the excitement I felt about not knowing what comes next, seemed to argue on the side of confirming my resignation.  In any event, there was new information with regard to Skinny's absence from the bar, and I wanted to give myself time to make a decision with the new information in hand.  

And so on Sunday I gave my final decision.  Not based on thinking, not based on emotions, but based on something else.  And I can't even define what it is.  I guess it's a "gut" feeling, not instinct, but intuition.  Not learned, I don't think, but instead some unlearned something that perhaps takes information fed to it by my intellect, emotions, body (or perhaps not) and gives me some feeling, although non-emotional, on which I now base my decisions on (or at least the big ones).  In a way, it's a leap of faith for something I know nothing about.  That "intuition" as I call it could, in fact, be some alien race that has implanted a "non-emotional gut feeling" chip in my left earlobe.  I think that's unlikely, but I literally don't know.  And yet I value this "feeling"  these days above all else, above my super-smart intellect, or my passionate emotions, or even my strong and yet fragile body.  I guess that's called surrendering. 

And I have surrendered to resigning.  In spite of it all, I'm leaving the bar.  No plans - no plans to leave Oeste, no plans on where I'll live, or if I'll work, or where I'll work if (when) I do.  I once had a friend, I believe from Australia, who carried around a business card.  It said "No Job, No Home, No Money, No Worries."  I dig it.   

And so the 27th will be my last day.  On the 29th I'll head to Oklahoma to meet my nephew, Ryan, and perhaps say hi to family and friends (which I can't WAIT to do).  I'll come back on the 3rd, and then we'll see.  I'll be able to stay in my house for another few weeks, and perhaps even use the car when it is available.  But only for a few weeks.  Then I'm - I want to use the word "free" here.  I guess I am free now.  I guess we're all always free, and just don't realize it.  Perhaps it still doesn't feel that way.  Interesting. 

In any event, I'm excited.  The world is open again, and I'll let it take me wherever it takes me.  I'm just along for the ride.  Cool. 

Right Now - 13/6/09 2:14 PM

The rain is moving across the ocean heading in our direction with a puff of breeze leading the way to shore.  I'm just starting to feel small sprinkles that have been swept up in the wind fall on my face and arms.  The air is cool and crisp, something that I find rare and inviting here.  The rain, only a stone-throw's distance from the beach, is teasing the dry land as it seesawsin its approach, while only providing moisture to the already wet saltwater.  It seems as if the sea and the rain are mocking the land, reminding it that it needs the water to live, while the water needs no land.  

I'm trying not to think too much.  I had a great night last night in Atenas.  Ozzie, one of the five in our roadtrips, is moving to Australia.  He's heading out today.  I'll miss him.  Enormously.  And I would imagine Pepper is not far behind.  She's in love.  Which is beautiful.  

Scott, Jeni, and I will be the remaining three of the five, and I feel like we've grown closer and closer.  We just have a way about us that I love.  We're good for each other.  

MICHAEL AND HAYDEN HAD THEIR SON!!!   Woohoo!  Ryan Smith.  My nephew.  I'm flying home in two weeks to meet him.  As his uncle.  Uncle Brian.  Crazy ass Uncle Brian.  I like it.  And I LOVE him.  Already.  I saw a picture.  He's like a person, only much much smaller.  I can't WAIT to see him in person.  I love my family (the blood one) so much right now.  

So, I just wrote a LOT about something else pretty important in my life, but decided to wait.  I have a big decision coming up tomorrow, and I'm excited as hell about it.  But I'll wait until tomorrow to share.  In the meantime, I'm going to think about Ryan and Michael and Hayden.  Cool.  Maybe I'll go visit them on my hammock.  I wonder if they'll feel that I'm visiting them.  Doesn't matter. 

Full Moon Party

So, it's been about a week, but I wanted to write about something cool.  Last Sunday we had our sixth Full Moon Party here at the bar.  Every month I generally wait until the last minute to find entertainment, decide on what specials we'll have, and even who will work at what has become the biggest event we have at the bar.  Starting in December of last year, we offered trashcan punch and had an IPod playing on a rented sound system.  Since, we've had some great bands and DJs, huge fires, a variety of shots, visitors from all over the central Pacific coast and tourists from around the world.  It's not particularly famous outside of our little village here, but it's a damn fun evening. 

This time it seemed we might be headed for another IPod night, but two days before the big night I heard a cool DJ at a club in Jaco, and decided to hire him for the evening after liking what I heard.  I always get a little stressed as the FMP approaches.  I am always worried that the entertainment won't show up.  Or they will, and then the people won't show.  Or they will all show, and people won't have fun, and then they won't come the next time.  But, it seems, things have always worked out.  And they certainly did on Sunday. 

We only had about 70 people here, smaller than the last one where we had almost 100, but 70 is still a very good number for this bar.  The DJ showed, and started a little off, but by 8:00, people started dancing.  As always, we had a very cool mix of people.  Old, young, gringo, tico.  The music was mixed well too.  American classics, hip hop, latino.  Add a few good looking girls to the mix, and people had fun.  And I had fun.  

I didn't start dancing until perhaps 11:00, but we didn't stop until almost 3:00.  Pepper and Shilka were behind the bar with me, but after about 11:00, Pepper took off, and Shilka and I traded off turns on the dance floor.  Perhaps there were only about 15 or 20 of us after midnight, but we filled the bar with fun.  Flaco, our guard here at the bar, certainly wins the most fun award.  He was dancing, or shall we say grinding, with half a dozen very attractive girls on the dance floor, soaking it up like he was the king of the world.  And for a few sweet minutes, he was.  

Good, clean, drunk, sweaty fun.   

Death and Grammar

So it started with Buddha.  In Chopra's novel of the Buddha's life, which is very entertaining, he graphically describes the struggle the Buddha went through to become "enlightened."  And when the Buddha surfaced as a buddha, he surfaced completely without attachment, to anything at all.  As I was contemplating this, I believe I realized that I am not only attached to an enormous amount still in my life, but I think I am still attached to the attachment.  I don't think I am ready to give up all attachments like the Buddha did, and perhaps Byron Katie has done, even it is far easier than what the Buddha went through to do it.  Even if someone offered me a pill to give up all my attachments, I'm not sure I would take it.  

For example, my face.  I like my face.  And I make decisions that are perhaps dishonest to myself to save my face when it is threatened with a fight.  I like what my face does for me.  I like looking at my face in the mirror and noticing how unbelievably attractive I am.  I like that people are more interested in talking to me because I am ridiculously good looking.  I like that it's easier for me to get a job, make friends, attract ladies.  I don't take any credit for my perfect bone structure, and so I have no pride in it really, I just like that I have it, and I find myself quite attached to it.  It's not that I believe I would not be happy without my awesome appearance, it's just I prefer it to, say, being homely.  Or at least I think I do, because in the times when I am not as attractive, I feel less happy.   

So, that's just one example, and it's a clear preference and an attachment that limits my freedom.  Because I prefer to look the way I do, I fear losing the way I look, and that fear limits the decisions I can make.  I would guess I have billions of little attachments.  My intelligence, my ability to see, walk, hear, talk, skip, surf, smell, feel.  Certainly less attachments than before, but still billions.  And here's the kicker.  I think I might like them.  I am actually even starting to enjoy the negatives of these attachments.  The pain, the anger, the longing.  As I was talking to Kris last night, it occurred to me that becoming enlightened seems to me to similar to death.  It is, in a way, overcoming the human experience, which I believe we will do when we die.  So here's the question, why speed up the process?  Why not enjoy the human experience as it is: human. Why not be human in the short time that we have to be human?  With attachments, with anger and pain and suffering and love and pleasure and jealousy and lust and passion and infatuation and heartbreak and lies and manipulations and theft and generosity and selflessness and charity and return and cars and houses and money.  All of those attachments and preferences and cares that we'll no longer experience, perhaps, when our human experience ends.  

But perhaps that is just it.  Perhaps that is exactly what makes a buddha.  Perhaps that what enlightenment, if that's what you call it, really is: being okay with with it all.  Maybe my understanding of it was WRONG, and what the Buddha and Byron Katie found wasn't actually overcoming the human experiencing.  Maybe is was about enjoying the anger.  Enjoying the pain.  Enjoying the suffering.  Enjoying all of the human experience.  Accepting. Enjoying our short human experience knowing that it's not really real.  Highs and lows that we won't experience when we return to the universe.  

Last night I was reading Buddha a bit more before bed, after my conversation with Kris, and the Buddha says, after becoming a buddha, that the more he struggled to become enlightened, the further and further he got.  The harder the struggle to be holy, the more the ego was strengthened.  He said something that hit me very hard: it's not a war that you can win.  Becoming a buddha is not about war with your ego, your body, the human experience.  If you go to war with you as a human, you can't win because no matter how hard you try, you can not bring your human experience with you into heaven.  It can never fit through the gates.  I was too tired to read much, but I'm fascinated how this plays out.  I'm not even sure if I read it as it was intended, but I'm fascinated by it.  Our human experience will always be a human experience, filled with the human roller-coaster.  Trying to force our human experience to be attachment free, to be holy, is impossible.  In fact!  That would actually cause it to no longer be a human experience!  The harder we try, the further we get from actually freeing our souls because we actually mistake our souls for this part of our human experience that, acting like our souls, tries to free our human experience from being human!  Awesome.  If it WERE possible to win that war, we WOULD die!  Our humanity would no longer be human.  What a waste!  

So, maybe my direction will change.  I don't know.  It feels pretty good.  The Buddha spent 15 years of self punishment, pain, and suffering trying to kill himself without dying, and perhaps came out realizing that it's impossible.  You can't kill your human experience and still be human.  Perhaps he realized that it would be so much easier to just kill yourself if you want to end your human experience.  So where does enlightenment lie?  Lay?  I've never been good with those.  And how do you refer to a cat that belongs to both me and Jerry?  "Jerry's and my cat?"  Is that right?  Sounds funny. I wonder if that is what those girls were laughing about.  And who's Jerry?

Even if it were possible to kill myself without dying, I don't think I'd want to.  It would hurt a lot, and I kinda want to enjoy being human for as long as I am human.  Whatever that may bring, for as long as it does.  Now where did I put my swimming pool?

Isn't this journey fun?  DAMN this is cool.  

Right Now - 9/6/09

Right now, I'm sitting at the bar (surprise).  Got four customers here for breakfast, and I'm about to have one of our breakfast burritos, which may be the best in the world (behind the SuperSonic Breakfast Burrito, of course).  I'm feeling pretty happy.  Pepper (the cat) came to work with me today, so the whole family is here.  She's been acting a bit like a dog lately, and I find it endearing.  She follows me and Jake home at night from the bar, trotting along like she's part of the pack.  Very cute. 

It's overcast again.  It's gotten to the point where it rains at least some every day, but it's still not usually raining.  I haven't been out surfing lately, I guess just giving myself a break.  Instead I'm reading a lot.  I'm most of the way through Buddha by Deepak Chopra, which is a damn fine novel.  I'd highly recommend it, to anyone really.  It may be kinda like The Shack of Buddhism.  It's a story of the Buddha's life, and Deepak is a really excellent storyteller.  I'm also most of the way through 1000 Names for Joy by Byron Katie (why is her last name first?).  I'm also most of the way through two or three other books.  I can't remember the last time I finished a book, come to think of it.  Interesting.  

Today I have to make a run to Jaco, but plan on finishing Buddha first.  Right now, I'm settled.  I certainly wasn't, though, last weekend.  I felt like I was going through withdraws all weekend, which was strange.  I partied hard on Thursday night and didn't have any beer or cigarettes or anything until late Sunday night, and I felt rather shitty.  Not sure if it was withdraws or just recovering from a long long night on Thursday, but in any event it sucked.  Feeling better again, though.  Happy about that.  

Spoke with my dad yesterday for the first time in a long time.  He kindly offered to fly me home for my birthday to see Ryan when he's born (my first nephew).  I may take him up on it.  We'll see.  I've also been talking a lot with Kris lately, which has been really nice.  She seems to be pretty joyful these days, and it rubs off.  She sent me a picture of the cats (Grizz and Mav).  Missing those guys.  

I exchanged a couple of emails with Allison Petrone recently, which was the first time we've really communicated in years.  She called a couple of months ago and let me know that she has forgiven me.  It caused a mix of emotions in me, many ego driven, but they all ended up in one place: an opportunity to have her back in my life, which is something I cherish.  And for that, I thank her.  

So, I've got some interesting things on my mind right now that I want to put into a separate blog.  I'll get to it. 

Right Now, Time, and Torn

Right now I am sitting in an internet cafe in Jaco, waiting to have a meeting with a guy named Cesar so I can get some t-shirts and beer coozies in the bar. I feel, more than anything, cool. I'm spoiling myself in AC, and I'll probably regret it later. But BOY does it feel good. I also feel suspicious. Are the girls behind the counter laughing because they know something I don't?

I had an interesting experience last night as I was talking with a friend after dinner. For the first time, I saw time in a totally new way. And I am going to try to explain it, in spite of it being a little strange. I saw the present as the sum as my memory of the past, my observation of the present, and my view of the future. It was as if I was seeing an entire movie in just one instant. And the next instant, there was a whole new movie, a whole new past, present, and future. I think it was spurred by really recognizing that the past, present, and future are all just illusions. They are all just the way I view them or intrepret them. And each second they all change, and a whole new movie starts (and ends!). It was as if there is no past and no future, they only exist in this instant, and then they are gone as soon as this instant is gone. It was cool. Strange, but very cool. A cow walked by on the road a moment later, and I knew his future, at least his future in that particular instantaneous movie, because it was whatever I thought it would be. And my knowledge of his future in that instant was just as valid as my knowledge of his present, which is just as valid as my knowledge of his past. Which, in a way, isn't actually real. It's all just the way I imagine it. Strange.

I've found myself again in conflict. Two sides of me pulling in three different directions. First is this very tranquilo all loving "spiritual" side. It finds beauty and ease. It laughs and loves and forgives and accepts - everything. It prefers to be unattached to everything. It claims to be open to the real reality, and the opening of this reality will free it from the unknown. It claims to be fearless, too, not even of death. It perhaps believes happiness is just loving one's self, or freeing one's self, or accepting the world. It's influenced by de Mello, Byron Katie, Tolle, and the like, so it's not quite original, but it comes up with some really interesting revelations from time to time. It feels true. It feels right. But then there's my other side, that creeps in sometimes late at night, sometimes early in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the day.

My other side, which my "spiritual" side labels my ego, or my programming, or my dark side, or my patterns, is quite convincing. It has a lot of weapons. While the spiritual side uses mystics, meditation, beauty, and laughter, my ego tends to rely on emotions (sadness, fear, infactuation, lonliness, sentimentality) as its weapons. It uses my memory in its defense, and remembers the wonderful times we had with Kris, the cats, the dog, Neil, Megan, and all of our other sweet sweet friends. It uses memories of cruising in the Caribe, skiing in Aspen, thick steaks at the Boulevard. It has behind it all of these wonderful, sweet, loving memories. And if the sentimentality isn't working on my ego's behalf, than it turns in the other direction. Still fighting on the same side, it uses memories of popularity, power, drugs, fast cars, rock star lifestyles that I maybe only tasted briefly in a few places here and there. This morning I felt anger, which I have started to feel from time to time again, and my god, it actually felt good. I actually liked it. I missed it. Or maybe I didn't, but when I felt it again, it felt almost like a relief. So, ¿what in the hell is up with that? (This keyboard is the first tico keyboard I have used, and it has the upside-down question mark, and so I wanted to use it.) (And the apostrophe is in the wrong place, 'cause they never use apostrophes, so that's weird, and the spell check on this computer doesn't work so I don't know how to spell apostrophe.)

So, here I am questioning. I miss Neil. Not just Neil, but in a way, he kinda represents that whole other life, with or without him in it. Neil, for those of you that don't know, was a close friend before he started using a lot of heroine and started beating his wife. No, that's not true. He's a close friend that I've lived with in three states over the past 10 years. He's married to Megan, and they are expecting, and she does a good job at hiding the bruises. They live in Oklahoma City by Lake Hefner, where I once taught sailing lessons to kids when I... enough. Perhaps I identify that former me as being Neil, in a way. He's perhaps the reminder, a reference point for where that life might have been going. Kris doesn't work as a reference point because her life changed too much when we broke up for me to use it as a "could be there." Of course, my spiritual side recognizes that nothing could have happened differently, because it didn't. Things can not be different today because they are not. So there's never really any regret, there's never any should have. It's more of a pull back today.

And I think it stems from this: ¿which is actually real? ¡Ha! I love Spanish and its crazy upside-downedness. But seriously, who's deluded? Is there a life with love, acceptance, happiness, all in any circumstance? Is the pain and suffering coming from a delusion that things should be different, as if they COULD? -OR- Am I deluding myself into thinking that everything is okay as it is? Am I shielding myself from the truth that things are not perfect, that they could be different, and I should fucking do something about it? Who's the crazy one: the one who is happy or the one who suffers? And does it matter? I guess I know at least one of me is crazy. The other one is fine, I'm sure, in spite of the fact that it believes there are two of me.

And I'm off to order some t-shirts from Cesar. What are those girls LAUGHING about?