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photos entry ways archives introspekt. aim: scottintrospekt introspekt radio rereading: 
non-violent resistance - m.k. gandhi 
a testament of hope - martin luther king jr. 
the power of compassion - the dalai lama more words to read: 100 words amplified to rock angel hive are you wearing a wire? asian book of wisdom astroheart bipolar biscuit city road fan club bluishorange crank crush dakota smith downlow entropy getlost glitterbook glorious noise grillburn half empty hey rube i am generic InsiderOne jason pettus jejune listen missy little.yellow.different lost for life mcsweeneys.com mcsweeneys.net mcsweeneys.org monosyllabic new topography no comment not my dog nubbin ok plus three parenthetical punka rumble in the jungle sounds from a heart murmer tni daily blogs two.points.collapsing us/against/them yahtzeen youlookgoodinblack * Indieblogs * - previous - - next - - random - - list - 
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Friday, September 14, 2001
thursday night - early friday morning - and i'm still finding it hard to write about this. too many thoughts running through my head - which may be the reason behind why i find it so hard to write. maybe in the next few days i'll be able to write about my own personal experiences during this time - maybe not - i dont know. at the moment - i am feeling the overwhelming need - to ask of you - to beg of you - to implore you - to please think about - and consider non-violence as a solution during this time of frustration and confusion and anger and sorrow. the anger is unfortunately all too understandable. violence begets rage and anger and hatred. violence begets pain and agony and sorrow. wherever violence exisits - these emotions will surely exist as well. i'm not asking you to hide or to cower in fear - unfortunately - i believe too often - non-violence is perceived as cowardly. what i am asking - hoping - is that we can stand up - with strength - in the face of fear and violence - and make a conscious decision - to not continue the cycle of violence - and thusly - putting an end to the suffering that follows in its wake. the last thing i'm asking at the moment - is that you might take a moment to check out a few links. the reverend dr.martin luther king jr. - an american hero - now an icon - stood in the face of adversity as a non-violent advocate and defender of freedom and human rights. his words are so fitting at the moment. you can find some of his speeches - available for reading at the martin luther king jr. papers project. also check out the dr. king's philosophy page at the king center. and please go and read the message on terrorism and nonviolence written by arun gandhi - mahatma gandi's grandson - at the gandhi institute. and you can find some of mahatma gandhi's philosophies and writings regarding non-violence at mkgandhi.org. thanks for reading. take care.
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
personally - i'm unable to write at the moment - still shaken - and affected deeply. i feel a real need though - to share some words with you - those of you who may stop by here during this time. and so i'm sharing these words - written by my friend jeff guntzel: "I am not able to express adequately the numbing sadness I feel this morning as I wake up to face a deeply scarred and changed country. I can, however, give words to an overwhelming fear that my loved ones, my community, and my country will turn yesterday's tremendous tragedy into a blind call for vengeance whatever the cost. When our president says that we will seek punishment that does not distinguish between the terrorists and those who harbor them, and when our Secretary of Defense assures us that the US will respond as if "this is a war," we can be sure of one thing: more civilians will die. We must not cease grieving the many thousands lost in yesterday's deplorable attack, but we must make every effort to urge the restraint of our community and our nation. We must also make time for serious reflection. How can we, as individuals and as a country, work towards a more compassionate world? How can we work to foster an understanding that we are all part of one another? Yesterday Americans were served a wake up call. Will we wake from our slumber and walk zombie-like towards more violence or will we see more clearly than ever that the cycle of violence must be stopped? Decades ago Ghandi instructed us that we must live the change we want to see. Sound advice."
Sunday, September 09, 2001
i'm on the bus today - and the driver is driving so fast - that when she takes the corners - it feels like the bus is gonna go up on two wheels and tip over. she drives so fast and then stops short - causing people to lurch forward in their seats from the momentum. i'm sitting in the back of the bus - in the back seat - and she's driving so fast - that whenever we go over a bump - i get jostled and fly about a foot out of my seat. and i remember being in grade school - and sitting in the back of the school bus - hoping for that same effect - finding a real joy in it - a real thrill. but today i only find it annoying - because it means i cant read my book - cant bury my face and become absorbed and block everything out. the driver calls out the stops in a haggard angry shrill witch-like voice - somehow gravelley and nasal at the same time - and with a tone which could only truly be described as stress personified. so - instead of reading - i opt to study my fellow passengers - these unfortunate people who accompany me today - on this demon driven-metallic box-shuttle ride to hell. and man - with the stories these people must have - who needs a book? there's a woman up in the front - and she's wearing a big frosted white wig. the wig is stark white - and in a late 1970's style that reminds me of something that dolly parton may have worn at one time or another. the wig seriously demands attention - and i wonder how i could have missed it getting on the bus. my only excuse is that i really dont pay attention to people when i get on the bus - i spot a seat and b-line straight for it. i mean seriously - i've gotten on buses before - and have passed by people that i know - who just happen to be on the same bus - and its because i'm not really looking at people - i'm not really paying attention. and so - anyway - i'm looking at the wig - and then i'm looking away out the window - at the passing apartments and businesses - and then i'm looking at it again. i'm drawn to it - it's so ghostly white. and upon closer inspection - i begin to wonder if this woman is actually a woman or not - her face is rather mannish - and her breasts are just a little too pointy - and what with the wig and all. she gets off at the hospital - and upon exiting the bus - she tosses her head - flipping her hair over her shoulder - in an overdramatic way - and walks quickly through the crosswalk toward the hospital. and i wonder if she works there. or maybe she's visiting someone. or maybe she's heading for a change - a rebirth of epic proportions. mister hardcore gangsta gets on in her place. he's wearing a hooded football coat in the summer - doesnt pay the full fare - and then exchanges angry words with miss stressed out bus driver. its early - it's 6:30 in the morning - and i think to myself that its too early in the morning to be frontin' - too early in the morning to be so angry. she lets him ride anyway - and he makes his way to the back of the bus - and he sits across from me. the music from his headphones is so loud - that when i turn up the music in my headphones - i can still hear the snare drum hits coming from his walkman. i turn my attention to the couple. the ones who got on at my stop. i didnt really pay attention to them while we were standing there - at the bus stop - waiting. but when the bus finally came - and we got on - she got on in front of me - and he got on behind me. she paid and made her way to an empty couple of seats towards the back. i got on and swiped my pass card and started making my way towards the back of the bus - and the guy behind me got on and decided to sit in some seats closer to the front - not caring that she had already procured seats for them to sit in. i struggled to get by her as she made her way back up toward the front to sit with him. during the ride - they sat in silence. i dont think they said one word to one another the whole way. you could see that by the way she was sitting - leaning away from him - she was purposely trying not to touch him - and he sat the whole time looking out the window. at one point during the ride - she got up and sat in the open seat in front of them - and i knew something was going on - something was wrong. and again - the thought that it was just too early in the morning to be so angry - crossed my mind. she pulled the cord for their stop - and they got off in silence - saying nothing. a woman gets on bearing a striking resemblance to my old friend tina. and at first i think - or have hopes - that it might actually be her. i double take - and then triple take. but its not her. and it sends me on a mental journey - thinking about her and where she might be and what she might be up to. i ran into someone at a show not too long ago - who used to be friends with her - and they mentioned that she had been living up in bellingham and in the san juan island area - and after the show i came home and searched the internet - desperately looking for an address or a phone number - anything at all that might lead me to her - but had no luck. the guy with the tic is interesting. but i feel guilty watching him. his affliction is automatic and uncontrollable. and if i watch him too long - i begin to feel sad. and so instead i go back to looking out the window. we pass by that place that i took the pictures of that one time - the one that had been standing there empty and worn for so long - and i see that its been levelled - in just a days time. two blocks further along - and we by pass that place thats been under construction for the past three months. and its been brought to life - living and breathing - full of light and people moving about inside. one dies so that another may live. i pull the cord for my stop. my stop - my route - my bus. and soon i'll be punching the clock - at my job. and when the day is done - i'll come home to my place and my things - and i'll do the things i do - until tomorrow comes - and i get to start it all over again - my life. and in my head - that saying repeats itself - over and over. its the one that goes "the more things change - the more they stay the same".
Saturday, September 01, 2001
i catch the bus with i-5 at my back - the highway only a few feet away - ugly big exhaust-stained dirty concrete walls dividing it and me. the sound of the cars roaring by behind me - sounds like the ocean - like a long stretch of coastline - where the water continually washes up on the sand - ultimately making a white noise static hiss. on the bus-stop bench is an empty bottle of cheap wine and there's a distinct smell of piss in the air. newspaper pages are scattered on the sidewalk and in the street - and when a breeze picks up - it takes the urine smell and papers with it - down the way a bit. and a fleeting thought crosses my mind that maybe i ought to pick some of this trash up - but its only fleeting - and instead - i open up my bag - and pull out my book - and bury my face - only glancing up every so often to see if my bus is coming. this is a new route for me. a new route - a new stop - a new timetable. a new position at work - and i'm working in a different building now - with a new schedule and new days off. my new bus route allows me to see new things - and i've got a mental list of a whole bunch of new stuff i want to take pictures of - things i see from the bus - as we pass by. as we cross the bridge - looking out the window - off to the left - i can see the fog rolling in across lake union - and its fucking amazing! seriously beautiful it is - this cloud bank coming in off the water - looking like a some wispy transparent mountain of cotton balls. and although physically impossible - i imagine being out on a boat on the lake - pushing up against the wall of the fog bank - actually being able to feel it - and it resisting - solid - not allowing anything to pass through it. the past few nights - my dreams have been kind of strange. last night i had a dream - and i've actually had a few of these recurring dreams - where i witness a plane crashing. i'll be on the ground - and i'll see the plane in ascension - just having taken off - and the plane will be climbing and all of a sudden it'll stall - and then fall. last night - the plane started coming down right on top of me - and i was running - trying to get out of its way - and there were people running all around me - and as it neared the ground - i could hear it descending - the engines stalling - and an eerie silence - and i dove behind a wall to escape the debris as the plane hit the ground - the flying metal shrapnel - and then i woke up. and a few nights ago i had a dream that really affected me - whithin which i saved a woman who had just tried to kill herself. she was not a nice woman - and had in fact treated me rather unkindly. i walked into a room - and found her on the floor - passed out. and even though she wasnt a nice person - i realized the importance of the fact that i needed to help her out - and i was able to revive her - but right after that i woke up. on the bus - sitting across from me - is a woman with a young boy. she drops her folded up stroller - and i bend down to pick it up for her. her boy keeps getting up while the bus is moving - and she tells him if he doesnt sit down - he's gonna get hurt. he continues to play - and she grabs him by the arm - yanking him forcefully into his seat. and he starts to cry. i look away - thinking how right she was - about him getting hurt. and i wonder if she might be psychic - like she knew all along what was going to happen. perhaps she can see into the future. and i wonder - if i confide to her that i've been hurt - if she can tell me when it is that i'll be healed. after work i go and see ghost world - and leave the theater depressed as hell. it's a great movie and all - but a little too close to home in some aspects. and as i wait for the bus to go home - i feel out of sorts - and sad - and kind of nauseous. i told myself after my last binge - that i was gonna quit drinking again - but at the moment i can think of nothing i want more than to pick up a bottle of the dickel and to come home to get properly fucked up. as i'm walking home from the liquor store - i notice my right shoelace is getting looser. the tension slackening. and i do nothing until a few blocks later when it finally comes unravelled and untied. and i walk further for about a block - watching the loose laces flap around - and then finally bend down to tie them back up - rabbit round the tree - and into his hole. at home - i turn the ringer off on the phone - not wanting to talk to anyone. i pull the bottle from its brown paper bag. the ice cubes drop into my glass - making a dull clank sound. clank...clank...clank - 6 of them in total. then i pour in the brown liquid - and it makes a glug...glug...glug sound as it comes out of the bottle. the ice cubes crack and pop as the warmer liquid hits them. i stop at half a glass - and then pour in a sweeter - sometimes sour fluid - to even the taste. and then i'm taking big gulps from a drink whose taste and temper and emotion match my own. when i'm sad - the drink is sad. and when i'm happy - it's happy. its what i need it to be - when i need it. i put on the headphones and put in the cd's - looking for inspiration - trying to write some words - trying to put thoughts down in some written form or another. hoping for a conjugal visit from the muse - and sometimes she comes - making me the happiest man alive - and sometimes she leaves me hanging - waiting and waiting and waiting. and it's seriously like a game - it reminds me of that woman at work - the one who always seems to be able to make me smile - and how she's always saying "thanks for playing". thanks for playing.
Tuesday, August 28, 2001
i walked into the bar the other night - and it was completely empty. angie - the owner / bartender was sitting playing one of the electronic poker machines they've got in there - and she barely looked up as i sauntered in. she doesnt keep normal hours - and closes up whenever she feels like it - and seeing as how no one was in there - i was a little worried that she might not be open too much longer. the following dialogue ensued:
Monday, August 20, 2001
there's a strange tap tap tapping going on somewhere in the building. on the pipes no less. i wonder if somebody needs help? i wonder if i need help? maybe someone's morse coding for my benefit - all dots and dashes spelling out - "hey! the guy in apartment #4 needs help in a bad way! someone! quick! to the rescue!" of course this weekend was all about seeing shows. of course! so - i've almost spent my $300 tax rebate check i got last week. and i'm a little depressed by my inability at being able to control my monetary funds and spendatures. today i picked up a used copy of coltrane's "live in seattle" - a 2 disc set for only 10 bucks - i couldnt pass it up. and when i came home from work today - my mail order copy of the new appleseed cast cd was waiting for me in my mailbox. give me money and i'll spend it - i guarantee i'll find something to blow it on. i think i've made a mistake my dear friends. oh yes - its quite plausible. i've been known to make mistakes with frequency - or - perhaps you wouldnt... and lastly - for the record - i gotta say that mr. bradstreet truly honors me to no end. thanks brother.
Tuesday, August 14, 2001
always questioning - always leaving myself wondering - why i do these things i do. there must be something or someone else driving me - controlling my actions. something or someone with bad intentions and motives unclear. surely i wouldnt put myself through all this silliness. no. surely not. its like that old rhyming playground game - who me? yes you. couldnt be! then who? i must be sadomasochistic or something. so this is the deal - all day today - i'm at work - and i'm down. i'm sad. i'm depressed. melancholy. in a funk. the whole shabang. and what do i do to cheer myself up? i get off work and i go to see an old crush of mine. smart boy - real smart. you see - old crush is - to some extent - still a crush - although i dont think about her nearly as often as i once did. and lucky - or unlucky for me - i havent decided yet which - i went into where she works and she wasnt around. she might have been in the back room - or she might be on vacation - or she might be sick - i dunno. i didnt ask to see if she was there. i wanted to - but i didnt. instead - i bought a couple of cd's i dont really have the money for - and got the hell out of there. and now i'm trying to decide if i would have been sadder at having seen her - or if i'm sadder now - not having gotten to see her. my crushes are always bad news - i'm either always attracted to women who are already attached - or to women who really couldnt seem to care less about yours truly. and if you ask me - there's some deep down psychological bullshit happening there. and i know it. i'm not as stupid as i'd like to be. i'm sure i could pay some psychologist a whole lot of money to tell me it probably has something to do with issues of abandonment - and growing up without a father figure - and with mom always working - trying to pay the bills - trying to keep me supplied with cookie dough. and how i was on my own a lot - and how that independence seems to equal out to a psycological curse when it comes to me and relationships - with women and friends. blah blah blah - as if you're really interested. speaking of mom - she's dissing the hell out of me. whats up with that? i consider my mom and i to be really good friends. she's the world to me. probably more than she knows or that i let on. but for some reason - i feel like i'm always the one who has to call her. for once - i'd like to have her call me up - out of the blue - just to say hello - hows it going? - just thinking about you. i mean - she and i live pretty much in the same city - she lives a little farther out of seattle - but we're close enough to each other that a visit once in a while wouldnt be out of the ordinary. but i havent seen her in a couple months. i called the other day - just to say hello - and i got the machine. i wonder what she's up to and how she's doing. and i miss her. but for some reason she doesnt return my calls. and yeah - i know she's busy - but i know she's got a minute or two at some point. i mean - since the last time i saw my mom - i've grown a full beard - and the hair on my head is probably an inch to 2 inches longer than it was. i can measure the time in hair growth. and yes - i know i should be telling her this - and not you - but it just so happened that you were listening - and i needed to get it off my chest. hey scott - what cds did you buy? well - i bought masada's "live in sevilla" and the david s. ware quartet's "wisdom of uncertainty". and speaking of david s. ware - he's gonna be here - in seattle - on friday. i'm seriously looking forward to that. thursday - friday and sunday are all looking good. thursday is mf doom at the paradox. friday is david s. ware at the nippon kan. sunday is arab on radar at graceland. and then next week - pleasure forever are at the breakroom on friday the 24th and superchunk and the promise ring are playing a free show at the seattle center on the 25th. hoo-hah. shows galore. look out! other shows on the horizon that i hope to be in attendance - gillian welch aug. 28th at the showbox - pharoah sanders sept 13-16 at jazz alley - burning airlines / rival schools sept. 19th at graceland. ah - yeah. thats getting pretty close to cheering me up.
 
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