Verbal Warrior Thought Spatter

The Autobiography of a Comedian Who Wasn't - Part I

2012-01-26T23:46:00.000-08:00

The Early Years

So I'm not a Comedian.

I mean, I'm funny and do a whole host of comedic things but I'm pretty clear that sticking me under the 'Stand-Up Comedian' umbrella would be a categorical error.

It's taken me quite some time to nestle myself into the cushion that is this realization.

I've come to somewhat similar realizations along the path of this Earth trip I'm taking but there's something definitively epiphanic about this one. It's put me in a most reflective light that's casting beams upon many a memory.

I can't say if this is meant for you but I know it's meant for someone. I've always loved Rolling Stone magazine for the interviews because I always wanted to know how a Star got to where they got to. That process and the steps therein always fascinated me. The key is understanding that your journey is yours and may not resemble anyone else's. It's so easy to default to the 'Well, this isn't how it's been done' soundbite. Yeah, do yourself a favor and delete that file, huge waster of time.

So, for me? Here's how it went down.

Okay, let's start at the beginning. Well, the very beginning would be me at 3 or 4 standing on my parent's coffee table and singing and dancing with a plastic guitar. What song did I sing? An original if you must ask. Huh? No way. Way. It went a little something like this 'Oh Policeman oh Policeman give me back my Money Money Money'. No lie. I had no real concept of authority or money but apparently my soul knew enough at that point in time to sing about corrupt cops and traffic stops. Of course those who know me now know how perfect this is since I've become so deeply invested in the defeat of the system especially as it pertains to the right to travel freely without cops or courts telling me otherwise. We bring with us to this world what we wish to achieve right from the very first steps and sounds.

Anyway, fast forward ten plus years later and you'd find me sitting in the den of my childhood home in New Jersey watching Eddie Murphy's 'Delirious' for the first time with eyes as wide as the Milky Way.

That was it for me. That's what I wanted to do. I didn't know how to get there but that was it: Huge stage, Packed House, Crazy Antics, Characters Galore, talked about for years and years. I had no act just a dream. I didn't even know what to do to get an act. Actually come to think of it, I distinctly remembering being about 7 or 8 climbing up the stairs in Elementary School after making some kids laugh and thinking "I should start writing this down so I remember it". I also have many memories of imitating all of my relatives at Passover Seders and Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and apparently pissing them off, at least that's what I was told many years after the fact. So I suppose I had the makings of an act.

After the 'Delirious' revelation I subsequently became a 'Comedy Junkie' and listened religiously to Comedy Albums (in between extensive Prince album sessions of course) in my bedroom: Cosby, Carlin, Robin Williams and any Eddie Murphy I could get my hands on. My oversized 7 Subject School Notebook that I carried to every class had 'I Love Eddie Murphy' scratched into the cover of it. Although the Murphy part was kinda askew and a bit underneath the Eddie part so it looked more like I wrote I Love Eddie...yeah, I didn't have the first date of my life until Senior Prom.

I was also in awe of Sir Richard Pryor but never got into him until I was older; I couldn't relate to his stuff like I could to my other heroes. Add several cups of 'The Honeymooners' every night at 11:30pm (how I wished I got an opportunity to meet and thank Jackie Gleason) and add several heaping tablespoons of HBO Comedy Specials that aired seemingly every night at some point and I was a veritable Ha Ha Gumbo of Funny Goodness inside.

I did the acting thing exclusively during the High School and College years but while I was enrolled at NYU I had a nagging feeling that I should sneak away from my studies and trek uptown to the Comic Strip on 81st and 2nd and start doing sets there since that's where Eddie used to perform. I never did. It was still just a hazy dream.

Fast forward several years after college graduation and I'm working with my first Talent Manager who knows nothing about my deep seeded Comedy desires. One day I'm called, no, strike that, I'm paged, yes paged, as in a beeper. Yes, it was like being poked on the hip which caused you to squawk and squeal for a phone to use as if your life depended on it. There were these things called Phone Booths that one had to find. They usually could be found on the street but sometimes you could find them indoors as well. How it worked is you had to carry around change...okay I'll stop.

Anyway, my Manager had contacted me for an audition for some sort of live show in the West Village that they were casting. My mind immediately started rifling through all of the monologues that were at my disposal; should I hit them with Mozart or drop my Chekhov on them, that new street one I've been workin' on is kinda ill...before I had a chance to solidify that moment into my mind my manager said "They're looking for someone funny so go there and be funny".

Now, I suppose a normal actor would take that to mean go and do a funny prepared comedic monologue but I heard "Go do a stand-up routine". I was petrified and spooked, how did my Manager know I wanted to do Stand-Up? I questioned the entire circumstance and almost called back and turned it down but somehow I relented.

So, what does an aspiring Comedian who had a pining deep inside his gut to express his life to the world do for his first act ever? Panic of course, duh; "Okay, okay, relax, you can do this, what's on my mind?" Well, what was on my mind was that the Knicks had just recently lost in the NBA Finals. Yeah, not a good subject. What was I gonna do, complain about bogus foul calls for 10 minutes? No, not that, the talk of the planet at that time was none other than Orenthal James Simpson. Yup, he was fresh out the Range Rover and all up in his trial. I remember having some pointed observations about the whole thing and got to scribbling about it in a teeny tiny pocket notebook. Don't ask me to recall the jokes they couldn't have been that good. I also remember going straight to my take on Bar Mitzvahs. I definitely recall doing some Jew Voice to a guy who was figuring the economics of putting together a lavish Bar Mitzvah. Hey, Eddie Murphy's first set was on boogers or something like that so cut me a break!

Anyway, I go to this audition and do my thing and...I got it! Turns out they weren't even looking for a Stand-Up. They started asking me where I performed, my goodness. I had no idea back then that I'd be asked that question a gazillion times again. But wait, what? I got it...what the heck did I...oh, it's some cabaret performance type thing, oh, okay, well, yeah sure I'll do it. Several weeks later I was set to do my first 'Gig' at the Westbeth Theater Center in NYC. Here's what I remember from that gig:

I was never more nervous in my life, not even close. All the 'girl stuff' paled in comparison. Acting on a crush that swirled around your stomach for what seemed like forever can cause a kid to melt into a puddle. This was a whole different animal. I was backstage literally ready to eat my way through the wood of the walls so that I could hide. I couldn't sit still and I was quite convinced that I was going to hear nothing but silence and that everyone in New York would know how much I sucked the next day. Yup, the back page of all the Dailies would proclaim the death of my career while mentioning that Knicks fans always suck at everything.

To add to my frayed nerves was the fact that my parents were there along with their best friends who I knew very well, plus my closest friend that I knew since I was a peach-fuzzed bowl cut runt in Junior High was also there. Here's how my set went...I cursed every other word. In fact, I'm pretty sure I had run-ons of nothing but sentences of curses. I should have just went out and yelled 'F#@K!' and walked off the stage, that would have been more artistic. Yet somehow some way I got laughs and the Booker loved me. My hand was shaken by a few audience members afterward but most of what I remember is my homeboy coming backstage right after I was finished and congratulating me by saying 'You finally did it man'.

I was way more relieved than happy. Kinda like losin' your virginity and yes, my first time was quite the crazy event and no you don't get that one.

At any rate, I had a steady gig! I couldn't tell you what the other acts were like, I was still a mess before going on and could care less if they were pulling veggies from their poop holes before I went on. I know that one of my topics was video phones. This was waaay before fancy cell phones but I had an inkling they were coming and spoke extensively how this would be evil and that you would never be able to get a chick on the phone because it would take her forever to get ready and look presentable for the conversation.

Anyway, I believe I performed there three or four times until I got a call from my Manager telling me that I wasn't going to be asked back for another show. The reason? I was too raunchy. Apparently the free flowing bouillabaisse of profanity had gotten to be too much. But you know what? I was thrilled! I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Wow, I'm so controversial. They can't handle me. The truth is too much for them to take. I'm not some pansy comic who sugar coats it, I come correct with the hot mustard! Well, that's what I was thinking back then.

So there I was standing in that telephone booth and it dawned on me that I was Comic without a gig.

I slowly turned outward to the lathered buzz that was the vibration of New York and realized I had to seek out an actual Comedy Club if I wanted to perform again.

My gulp was as loud as a cab hitting a pothole at eighty miles an hour with a family of four in the front seat.

Phone booths really should have had curtains for moments like this.

[Part II Next Week]

Day 7: Yippee & Meshell

2012-01-12T00:52:00.000-08:00

I'm spontaneously laughing and smiling for no reason whatsoever.

A quick check on my Knicks game shows them winning and rather than internalizing it with an inner grin I shift to the floor and dance a ceremonial jig with knees and elbows akimbo.

Quite a departure from the doom and gloom at the beginning of the week when I was exorcising my gunk demons. I'm telling you, I feel amazing. Yes I'm definitely looking to getting some grub into my system but it feels so wonderful inside I can't imagine ingesting anything but the highest frequencies of food stuffs.

I feel like what a newly baptized wahoo must feel after 'seeing the light' of their new religion. I kinda want to don a musty brown robe with a frayed tassle for a belt and walk door to door of my friends espousing the virtues of Detoxianity.

Seriously I can't believe people don't do this for themselves, the benefits are astronomical. I still have a day left of this part and then 3 weeks of the Internal cleanse to go so I'm pretty sure that by the end of this month I'm gonna feel like an Indian Guru whose got some serious dance moves.

I'm not sure why I've done this to myself but I was watching Food Network a lot the past several days. Not the smartest choice of input when you're fasting. Although, watching Guy Fieri shove some of the highest caloric and fatty foods down his sun chapped maw with reckless abandon in 'Diners Drive-Ins and Dives' definitely aided in the loss of my appetite. I think if Guy Fieri did this Cleanse I'm almost certain his gut would probably come out of his butt and punch him in the face.

Anyway, I was a bit concerned that I started this process at the beginning of the year. In the past I've begun at the end of December as the world was slowing down but it's worked out perfectly so it was meant to happen when it did.

Oh! Before I forget I need to express some letter combinations for the wondrous auditory bliss beads that were created by the inimitable Ms. Meshell Ndegeocello last Friday night. I consider her to be one of the most pertinent and vital musical artists out there. Uncompromising. Quixotic. Innovative. A true musical Chameleon.

Here's what I so deeply loved about her performance. Well, first she opened with a version of Prince's 'Lady Cab Driver' which is one of my all time fave's of his so right off the bat I was fluttering like a teen in the fifties in front of Elvis. Besides that, it was her grounded presence in her work. Here she was in front of a packed house of a thousand people all hopped up and ready to work it for the weekend. She nonchalantly strolled on out with no fanfare and calmly began her show, gently bringing you into her world rather than violently stepping on your head to prepare for a sound.

For the most part her show was very subtle, subdued, layered and evocative of a broad emotional landscape that one would as soon find in an artistic foreign film yet the melodies deftly delivered them to the audience. I would have to say that it was quite astounding to me how powerful of a hold she had over the room. She really didn't move around much or banter excessively, it was all about the music.

If you're not hip to Meshell then go find an album of hers, any album, and begin your journey. Hard to say which one to start with as they're all so different. Best to look at her work as a neophyte would look at a wine store for the first time. Pick one up and let your taste buds guide you to the rest.

Day 5: Shiver me Timbers!

2012-01-10T00:06:00.001-08:00

Splitting Headache. Sinus Congestion. No, congestion sounds harmless, more like sinus gridlock. Woozy. Fuzzy. I have the chills. Dry heaving. Well, that was only once and it would have been puking but there was nothing in my stomach.

That was just Day 1 of my Juice Fast.

I would have posted last night as I was planning to do but couldn't see straight. Today I still had an enormous amount of sinus pain but I just got up from a nap and feel a lot better. It was not a "I'm tired nap" but a "Oh my goodness God Lord save me from this pain I'm gonna bury my head in my pillow nap".

I'm still cold all the time despite standing under a hot shower and having the heat turned up. Jeez, I don't remember starting a Heroin habit! I also don't remember having such a strong cleansing reaction at the outset of this cleanse before but I could be wrong. All this is telling me is that my body is getting rid of some serious toxins so it's all good. I'm all for suffering and teeth chattering for a couple of days for the betterment of my health.

Again, I'm quite the healthy person so I can't imagine what a normal person who eats processed foods and drinks and smokes would be like during this. I suppose they'd be in line for a role in the 'Devil Inside' sequel.

Hmm, feeling a lot better, perhaps the writing is easing the pain a bit, whew, man, it sucks when you can't even think straight. I was watching the Knicks tonight and as usual there was a bevy of absurd plays and moments that called for outbursts and cries of disgust but all I could muster from my squinting pained body was a few curls of my lip and a grumble in my throat.

I wanted to write about my experience seeing Meshell Ndegeocello this past weekend but she deserves a post all unto herself, she's that amazing, so I'm gonna hold off.

I did go to Six Flags over the weekend, yay so much fun! It was the last prep day before starting my juice fast so I was a little weak but still feeling good enough to handle the coasters. Tatsu was my favorite with The Riddlers Revenge being a close second. Only problem with Tatsu was that since you're facing downward the whole time my hair kept getting in my face which made it hard to see sometimes although that was nothing compared to a chick in front of me who lost not only some cash but her phone. What a putz.

I suppose you're looking for some snarky remark or deep insightful comment regarding my Amusement Park experience but I can't really say I have one. Not in a ha ha observatory reflective dig out the truth kinda vibe right now. I find it a blessing that I'm able to engage in an activity without a throbbing thud of pain being served upon me at a myriad of acute angles.

I will say that last night I was curled up on my couch and began laughing at the top of my lungs because it hit me that I just began my year on actual rollercoasters which is telling because I know that this year is gonna be one hell of an amazing rollercoaster ride; it's all right in front of me and I can hear the clack clack of the track raising me up to the top of that apex ever so slowly.

I've always known and heard from my invisible little friends that it was gonna come quickly and be quite a ride and now that it's here it's so funny that I actually went to a park for the first time in years just now. Reason I did it was to do research on a writing project I'm working on.

Anyway, I'm gonna go wander around the home and make some cranky Jew noises before collapsing into my pillow.

Begone ye Demons of Dastardly Yuck Yuck!

Here We Flow Again...

2012-01-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

An empty glass jar stoically stares me in the face. I look for a glint of compassion and tenderness in the grooves at the top of its glimmering body but find none. It reflects the light back at me with a wink as if to say 'Oh yeah buddy, it's about that time'.

That would be my Blessed Herbs glass shaker jar in the little scene above. We've become quite close over the years and as I face another beginning to my annual cleanse I resign myself to the inevitable: this is not going to be easy.

For those of you who don't know I'm talking about the Blessed Herbs Colon and Internal Cleanse that I've done for a couple of years and am about to embark on again. As far as detoxes/cleanses go none compare to this one. It is the Grand Imperial Empress of all that is in the Universe of detoxifying and I can't imagine not doing it at least once a year.

To be honest, it astonishes me that people would not be mandated to undergo this process or at least something similar. Look, as you probably know, I am one very very healthy cutie pie who takes a vigilant approach to my well being. I know every ingredient on every label, food, cosmetic, product, you name it. I work out do the yoga thing eat organic have all the water filters etcetera tera tarara boomabayay. Yet as healthy as I am I know that it's imperative that I incorporate something of this magnitude into my regimen.

We live in a toxic world. A highly toxic world. Every day we are bombarded by it and offered many opportunities to have it enter our system. Our air is irradiated and sprayed with chemicals that look like clouds. Our water is full of death. Our foods are laced with so much junk it's a wonder they don't glow. Unless you're a Raw Foodist who lives in an untainted part of Hawaii or something you're gonna be subjected to this caca whether you want to or not.

Now, let's be clear, the seat of your health is in your gut. That's where it starts. If your gut is healthy along with your kidneys and liver you're most likely not going to get sick or diseased. The problems arise when these parts of your system get so gunked up with the foods and junk inherent in the modern world that your body has no choice but to send the toxins to other parts of your body in order to flush them out. More often than not the skin is the unlucky recipient which is why most people's skin is full of blemishes and snaps cracks and ping pong poppers.

I'll be honest, I don't care how hot your body is if you're a babe, if you got skin issues I want nothing to do with you sexually. Major turn off. In almost all cases it means you eat crap. If you eat crap you're not gonna taste yummy namean? Also, big drinker? No bueno, you'll definitely taste...different. Smoker? Next!

Anyway, again, I wish everyone I knew did this cleanse. It's that powerful. I am constantly complimented on how good I look for my age and I know that having this now be a bullet in my health holster is going to support that truth for many years to come.

So as I take my first step today in my cleansing process I post my first blog of the new year. I've taken to blogging as much as I can during these cleanses and I look to being able to be as active as I can in that regard. I've got lots going on in my life right now, extremely exciting, so even if I only drip a couple of paragraphs onto here it'll be better than nothing.

Well, I'm about to take my first toxin absorber...sigh...here we go!

Riding on the Metro-oh-oh....

2011-11-11T11:49:00.000-08:00

There's this gaping maw of beckoning emptiness that sits near the northwest edge of Hollywood & Highland. As wide as it is it's easy to miss amidst all the bustling tourists and shops filled with items crafted by tiny little brown people. A swath of stairs tumble into a tiled descent neath a swoop of polished metal. A trickle of humans pitter and patter in and out of it as if they turned around halfway down and discovered the stairs led to a wall. I'm talking about my local Station Stop of the LA Metro my friends: A conundrum dipped in an enigma with a light dusted frosting of WTF.

First of all, a New York City Transit map looks like the arteries of the Boroughs; the melting pot pouring its bubbling denizens into an Escher mold. Now look at the LA Metro Map, go ahead look at it. What does it look like to you? Yes, it does look like a Deity smashed his fist into Southern California causing these cracks of transportation to shoot out from the center. But look a little harder, what else do you see?

I know! It looks like a Prince Symbol with an unraveled circle at the top! It warms the cockles of my heart to know that the designers of our hush hush underground are Prince fans. I'm sure they're hard at work convincing legislators to fund a line that connects Sunset & Vermont with Cypress Park thereby completing the symbol for Aliens to acknowledge from above. Magnificent.

Honestly I've never understood this unspoken out in the open mechanism of travel. An infrastructure that is only mentioned in Shakespearean asides and drunken whispers as if it were a beloved uncle steeped in scandal. I've never met anyone that's actually used this form of transportation in the ten plus years that I've lived here. Well, maybe I have but it was most certainly made known to me as swiftly as if it was being revealed that they had contracted Herpes. But it's there, and it's being used, by great numbers I might add; an underground economy consisting of n'er do wells vacantly being shuttled to and fro like lobotomized gophers.

Should you happen to make your way down the lonely stairs you'll be greeted by quite a large area with high ceilings as clean and tidy as the neatest German tube. Now here's where it gets reaaal screwy. Upon alighting on the landing at the bottom of the stairs you'll encounter a bank of lonely ticket machines nestled in the wall to your right. They whine for your attention, their debit card slots blinking wildly and suggestively for your plastic to violently enter them. The thing is...it's optional. That's right, you really don't have to pay to enter the invisible ride of your life. I mean, you can, and you're told you should but a quick look around will reveal that there's no attendants on duty. The space is almost double dog daring you to just waltz on over to the train of your choice. It's passive aggressive peer pressure.

I absolutely feel like a foreigner when I'm confronted by this decision. I feel like real Angelenos know to just stroll right on through to their free transportation. The only people that are slipping their sixteen numbers into the machines always look like out-of-towners. When you're in one of these packed trains it will astound you to see the myriad of different faces that probably defied the call for three bones. Surely if that portly abuela, diminutive Goth Girl, rail thin Asian card puncher and blockheaded gangsta wannabe are not paying for their ride I shouldn't either. No way they're paying. Clearly if you were taking this daily back and forth to your destination there'd be no way you'd be paying for it, right? Do the math: Sixty bux a month, around Seven Hunny a year to take the risk of being the one shmuck caught by the Metro Police for a fine of Two Fitty? I'd be doing my 'I Didn't Pay Jack' dance every time I boogied into a train every morning.

Think about it, if you paid for your piddly widdle tickies and went back and forth without anyone checking them wouldn't you feel scammed? It aggravates my Jew core to the bone 'Why did I pay for this if I didn't have to???' It's one of the many reason why I vehemently detest Valet parking, 'Why should I pay for this if there's a perfectly good free space just around the corner or down the street somewhere?'. What rankles me even more is when you see the Valets taking your car to the same space that you would have taken your car to. Look if you're extorting money out of me to park I expect my car to be positioned on some Hydraulic Lift and spun off into a crystal cave where the shine of the rocks bathe my twinkling Mitsubishi in healing ions of love.

Back to the Funderground Ride, so let's say you're feeling quite randy and adventurous, emboldened by a random Horoscope that brought to your awareness the perfect storm of cosmic alignments for acting in such a brazen manner. You would sashay down the escalator to another enormous hollowed out space, reminiscent of what the subways used to look like in ancient New York; a tunnel fit for a mass exodus. Surely you'd be wondering what the stop-gap would be to catch you in your criminal act. You'd search the faces of the patient and barren looking for signs of narrowing eyes. You'd sniff the air for the faint odor of a pathetic authority figure flipping fines like flapjacks for his quota stack. Would you find one? I doubt it. Has anyone ever been pinched for this crime? Are there any confirmed cases of freeloading Metro riders getting singed by this loosely enforced punishment?

This just boggles my mind, does anybody actually pay for this thing? If so why not? Isn't the state broke as all get out? Aren't Californians being squeezed for every wooden nickel their inept legislators can get out of them? They can't spring for an illegal to man the train stops and make sure everyone's on the up and up?

Did they forget that this thing exists?

Did some rich kid get tired of getting model train sets for Christmas and want a real train set to play with? Is some flaxen haired little rascal sitting in a room in a mansion surrounded by a rotating cast of life sized Disney Characters operating the LA Metro system like it's an FAO Schwartz limited edition train set?

Are there actually any Train Cops? Could it be they're so ashamed of themselves they refrain from their carrying out their duty? Is being a Train Cop one step below from working a broken traffic light intersection? Is that why they have the trains, they needed something worse than traffic intersection monkey?

I'm sad to report that I've always paid for the tickets on the LA Metro. Yes, I know, what a wuss I am. But after decades of living in New York City it has been ingrained into my DNA that you don't jump the turnstiles unless you're an up and coming rapper or a homeless person, otherwise you'll most certainly be caught. I've seen it happen too many times. Throw in the slinky sneaky conductors on all New Jersey Transit trains that always seem to pop up out of nowhere and I'm pretty much a basket case when it comes to not being able to pay for the trains. Most people would be petrified of performing stand-up comedy. I'd be trembling like a smack addict going cold turkey if I entered a train without a ticket. I might make it for a few minutes before breaking down, falling on my knees, throwing my hands in the air and surrendering like Daniel Day Lewis in the hunt for another Oscar nomination.

At any rate, let me hip y'all to a little sumthin' sumthin'...the Metro is the move when it comes to hitting anything near the Staples Center. No seriously, if you're going down there for a game or show or even if you're hitting the Convention Center or what have you the Metro is your hook up. Check it out, park your whip somewhere west of La Brea near Hollywood Blvd., there's always free parking if you look for it. Then walk over to the station stop, and boo ya, you'll be downtown without the hassle of traffic and the stress of overpaying for parking. I've always done this for events at these places and it's been a sweet move regardless of my indignation for paying for something I believe I shouldn't have paid for.

I think what I'm going to do next time I ride the Metro-oh-oh is do an impromptu survey of everyone in the car on whether or not they actually paid although it's possible that I'd be given the silent treatment by the regulars and looked at as if I was a TSA agent asking a flier if they love Al Qaeda and are a Chemist.

Oh, reason I was on the Metro recently was to attend the LA Comikaze Expo at the Convention Center. Hoo Boy was that a doozie. I'll have to break that one down at a later date.

In the meantime get your gratis adventure on in the La La Subterranean Way before the City's Revenue Vultures get hip to it like the dope brunch spot you used to go to before lines started forming on the weekend at 10am.

The Mic Sounds Nice...Check Once More

2011-11-07T21:43:00.000-08:00

So I've decided to throw my hat back into the Stand-Up Comedy Ring again starting this week. Not sure how I truly feel about it. Part of me feels obligated in a way to pursue the mic again. I know I can be exceptionally good at it. I know it can provide me with joy. I know it is medicine for my spirit.

But I also feel deeply heartbroken when I think about performing Stand-Up. I feel let down by the art form. I feel I've given so much and received so little in return. I feel resentful about basically having to start at the very beginning again since I know nobody and have no connections whatsoever to get gigs. Well, let me rephrase that, I'm sure I could find connections to get me gigs but they'd be gigs I'm not interested in doing at this point in my life.

What kind of gigs would those be you ask? Well 'Bringer shows' comes to mind first. Those are the gut wrenching scrape on your innards type of a performance where it is your duty to 'bring' a certain amount of audience members in order to secure your spot on the bill. Usually this spot is right at the top of the show when everyone is settling in and realizing that there's actually live people performing in front of them. It is the equivalent of a Dinner Date with a chick who could care less about you but is using you to bring her to a meal and escort her home in time to bang her booty call.

Calling them 'Bringer' shows is also a gross misnomer. It's not as if a comic walks out of his door and gleefully proclaims that he or she is about to perform resulting in a groundswell of excitement that pours a gaggle of able bodied laughers into a vehicle. No, a comedian does not stroll into a club and with a flourish declare 'Look at who I've brought' as a conga line of audience members cha-cha-cha into their seats begging for pock faced waitresses to serve them overpriced beverages with a quickness.

Yea, verily I have donned an Elvish Evergreen Bonnet and with mahogany flute in hand trilled a tra la la through the corridors and avenues beckoning willing chucklers and chortlers to follow my seductive yuk yuk melody to an abode of brick walls, teeny weeny tables and endless queries of 'Have you ever noticed...' , verily I was met by the chirping condolences of a flock of crickets.

Believe me, there is nothing worse that standing there at show time and seeing only one of your supposed five or ten willing audience members sitting there. You hate being stood up by your date you say? Well how about being stood up by half a dozen of them at the same time, try that one on for size. When people find out I'm a comic they almost always remark how incredibly hard it must be to be one and I always say being one is the easy part. It's getting the opportunity to actually perform like one that's the hard part; at least in my experience. So yes, no more bringer shows, ever, unless it's for a major and I mean major show where something is on the line. I will not help fill your wack ass little punk bar on a Monday night in some evil corner of the valley where some Eastern European block of accents rattles throughout the establishment. Nope. Not gonna do it.

Then there's the 'Abracadabra Shows'. Not gonna do those either. What's an Abracadabra Show you ask? It's a Book Shop, no it's not, Abracadabra! It's a Comedy Show! It's a Coffee Shop, no it's not, Presto! It's a Comedy Show! It's a Barber Shop, no it's a Comedy Show! Yippee!!! I'll suffer these ha ha transformations for working stuff out should I choose to but no more makeshift performance spaces. I've done them all, really I have. I've been a Mic Whore, for too many years "It's where, in a cave that you need to take a tractor to and then rappel down half a mile in the dark to get to you say? 5 minutes? Cool, I'm down." Yeah, over that ish.

Ultimately what I truly want is a home base. A place that I perform regularly. A place that I'm appreciated. A place where everybody knows my name. I want to be Norm of Cheers. What's shakin' Z Luv Star?!? A pair of cheeks and a bunch of color treated hair, what's up wit u? This way when someone asks me when I'm performing next I can always say 'I'm always at blah blah on blah blah days etc.' Yes, I'm bitter on that one as well. Not sure if this is just a result of making small talk but I'm constantly asked of my next performance date. Invariably if and when that date is eventually procured I return to the posers of those inquiries with my fulfilling news 'Lo and Behold, thy wish hast been granted! I shall be tickling the bones of funniness this upcoming so and so!' Yup, never works out. Everyone's busy or says they're gonna come and then doesn't etc. The worst are the ones who get so absurdly excited and then pledge to round up an entire zip code of people to witness my inevitable brilliance...and then not even show up. Oy.

I get it, I mean I understand the process as it pertains to the desire to see me perform. See, I can be very funny in person as well as charming (yes I grant you I can be an ass and quite a creepy brooder as well but go with me for a sec). So what happens is that the recipient of my twinkling retorts figures 'Wow, this guy would be great onstage'. This prompts them to innocently request any and every invite out to any and every future gigaroo. Problem is, this shining moment loses its luster within a day or two and once obligations, social options and the endless self destructive behaviors and addictions the average human has at their disposal gets in the way I become nothing but an afterthought. It's one of my character flaws, I'm extreeeemely naive when it comes to what people say; I take everything at its word since I consider my word my bond. Hence it's been a bumpy ride for me in the land of B.S. and empty sentence volleys.

It's been an incredibly challenging road to hoe this road of Comedianisma. Seems I've matched the same pattern out here that I did in New York City. I immerse myself in working to get gigs at clubs and when that proves to be futile or immensely dissatisfying I then branch out and create my own shows in my own chosen venues. Eventually those shows led to an Apex of some sort: In New York it was my Off Broadway One Man Show, in LA it was my One Man Comedy Special that was turned into a DVD.

At the end of both I was left sitting on my lonely ass, deeply exhausted, wondering what it all meant. Were these journeys the fulcrum of some hidden agenda unbeknownst to my bewildered self? I cannot say. I just know that I'm definitely being confronted by this part of myself right now. It seems 'Stand-Up Comedy' is all around me. I'm meeting people, being asked, told about or running into former acquaintances where the subject always dips to Stand-Up so I cannot deny it any longer.

So here's what I'm gonna do. On Tuesday I'm going down to the Laugh Factory and signing up for their Open Mic. Despite being here for over a decade I have yet to ever sign up for their Open Mic. It's a wonky process if you ask me. You show up and wait to sign up, hoping that you're allowed a slot depending on how many comics they let sign up that day. You're also signing up for the following week not the week you're there which makes no sense to me. Why for the love of all that is good in the infinite Universe must we return the following week if we're already there? I'm sure there's a good enough reason but all these random rules just drives me batty.

Anyway, after that, I'm gonna eventually go back to the Improv and sign up for that again. I kind of despised their process as well but I'm going to do my best to let go of it and just surrender to see what happens. I will say this, when I showed up to the Improv for the first time the building spoke to me and said 'Well it's about time you showed up here'. No really, it did. Fine, look at this page like that, I don't care I'm being dead serious. I leaned against the wall outside while I was waiting and that's what I heard as if I was being hit by a bus.

I wonder what the Laugh Factory will say to me, "Who does your eyebrows?" or maybe "Prince Impersonator Auditions are on Thursdays". Truth be told I already went there once many many years ago for a Yom Kippur service. That would be the holiest day of the Jew Year for Jew people folks. I was profoundly intrigued about having the High Holiday Services held in a Comedy Club; there was something quite perfect in that. Of course it was the same ol' oy yoy yoy beat yourself up stuff; the playbook sure as heck didn't change. See, now that would have been something, if Comics were allowed to go in and muck around with the prayers and make a bit about everything. If they did that I'd be the most devout Jew in the history of Jewyism.

Well, that's where I'm at people, waddya think?

To be honest, I have no idea whatsoever as to what my material is going to be. That's always been a problem, a good problem but a problem nonetheless. I have so much material I never have enough time to get to all of it or stick to something. I literally have hours of stuff I haven't even touched since I recorded the ideas plus a couple hundred pages of stuff just sitting on my hard drive. This time around I'm gonna play the game a bit more and just do the same thing over and over and over as best as I can even it kills me. Let's see how it goes. I'll stick to a few clubs and maybe one or two open mic spots and never deviate from them unless the opportunity is too good to pass up, that way I won't get overwhelmed with the vastness that is LA's Comedy Scene.

In the end, really, look, just judge me Hollywood. Put me in front of the ravenous wolves and judge me. Tell me I suck and to go back home up to my old stomping grounds in the galaxies far far away or tell me I'm amazing and demand my time in front of the Mic. Okay? As John Patrick Shanley once told a very beautiful friend of mine one night as she stood before him in his hotel room:

'The Bed or the Door'

Alright Comedy Clubs? Just tell me...the Bed or the Door.

I'm used to the door.

But if you want me to hit it I promise to bang the living bejeezus outta your paying customers.

I'm Over the Weight

2011-10-31T12:38:00.000-07:00

I'm fat.

What? No, c'mon.

No really, I'm fat.

You're fat. Where are you fat? Please show me.

Here...and here...

There, you've got to be kidding, that's called flesh...

No, I should be much skinnier.

But I like you this way, you got a little meat to you it's sexy, you know I'm an ass man and all that...

Yuck, no, I just need to lose like five or ten more...

What?!?! From where, no, don't, you're fine trust me.

Yeah, whatever, you're sweet thanks.

Times that conversation or some facsimile thereof by, oh, I'd say several hundred. Yeah, I've had that convo many many many times. I mean, yes, I am a guy and yes I do get severely turned on by body parts just like the next guy but at the end of the day if I'm attracted to you I'm attracted to you. So it makes no sense to me why if it's clear that I'm attracted to you you would go on at length on how you're not attractive and how you used to be or should be something else.

It's like a car salesman selling a car and then saying, 'You sure about signing that, no, the engine is all flawed and look at those rims, ewww, like, hello, those are twos not twenty twos. [Salesman begins to cry] I used to have rides that were Ryde or Die rides now...now they're all teeny weenie fisher price tires!'

I'm done.

Out of my disgust with this constant experience with the fairer sex I was moved to post something on the Book of Faces about it. A friend commented that it was an LA thang and I would have to vehemently disagree on that point.

It is a planetary phenomenon. Women all over the world being infected by the idea of beauty being propagated by these miserable models and celebrities who hate themselves and buying into the consumerism and advertising model of never being good enough.

I'm sick of it.

Every Model, Playmate or Celebrity I've ever met, and I've met more than I care to remember, is NOTHING like what you see. Repeat...NOTHING. So I have to date or meet women who always sabotage themselves because of these illusions and I'm done with it. I will not buy into their pity party anymore. You think you're fat, great, leave. I think you're gorgeous but if you don't then leave. Go home and puke, I have a book I can read.

If you can't love yourself then how can you possibly expect someone else to love you? Sure, we all want to have our bodies feel fit and healthy but at what cost? At what point does it go from being fit to being obsessed about millimeters, inches or a few pounds? And what are you basing the idea of what you should be and how you should look off of?

Magazines, TV Shows, that chick that walks in the club that everyone drools over?

Let me tell you something ladies, I always approach the chick that everyone always drools over and for the most part they're usually vapid boring uninspiring slabs of balsa wood. I don't approach just those types exclusively but in my experience they hate themselves just as much as the next girl.

Whether you want to say that this is who I am or not based on your judgment of me the fact of the matter is that I truly love women. I would like for nothing more than to adore a woman and make her feel special, loved and safe around me. Yet throughout my life it seems no matter what type, background or age the female may be she almost always, at some point, will go on about her body image issues.

Now, what would an adoring, loving good all around cool dude like me do in the face of such self deprecating behavior ? Well, I'd want to cheer you up, or prove you wrong or make you feel better of course! Let me dance a minuet on our dinner table and proclaim my love for your jiggly wiggly bootay! Let me sing a simple butt dimple song for you! Watch it jiggle see it wiggle cool ass booty female brand gelatin!

Oh Issac, tee hee, you're so funny tee hee.

Yup. Never works. Why? Because there's nothing I can do to shift your belief system, only you can do that for yourself. It'd be like me telling you to quit cigarettes. No chance. You find a comfort zone in hating your body and me trying to take you out of it is pointless, but I keep banging my multi-colored head against your scale.

So what happens to me? I become that friend in your mind who you go to when you consider confronting those doubts about yourself since I'll always be sooo supportive and appreciative.

Then, while I'm doing that, some schmucky a-hole who doesn't like women and is living in a complete space of his ego will come along and key into your insecurities which you will subconsciously connect with. See, he hates you deep inside, so do you...it's a match made in heaven! Then you get together with him. He tosses you around like a beanbag, dumps you like a file in a recycle bin on your desktop and then you wonder why men treat you like crap and why all guys are a-holes. You get bitter and hate yourself even more.

Awww, look, there's Issac doing his Female Brand Gelatin Dance, he's soo sweet.

Finito.

You know, there's more pressing insecurities and fears that need addressing on this planet. Fear about our creativity, our desires, our dreams, taking that risk to go for what so passionately excites us. Yes, I would love to work with you and build you up on that level. Because by doing that for you I also do that for myself by reminding myself what I sometimes forget. But an extra pound on your ass? Puh-lease. Go bother some other doofus with that nonsense. I have no time for that anymore.

Get a clue and get some confidence that you're a babe. There is nothing sexier than a woman who walks in a room with that powerful attitude. I don't care what she looks like, everyone will notice her no matter what she weighs. Those that deride her are just scared or are jealous of that power because they don't have it themselves.

Look at me: Five foot six, one twenty two...wet. Most of the girls I meet weigh as much as or more than me! Yeah, sometimes I look at myself and say, hmm, I could use a little more muscle there or an inch or two here wink wink wink but overall, I love, I mean love how I look. Somebody asked me recently if I could change anything about me physically what would I change and I honestly couldn't think of anything. Flexibility doesn't count does it? I wish I could do a full split, there, I said it, oh my goodness...I'm bawling, woe is me and my hamstrings! I'll never get what I want with those damn tight hamstrings of mine!!!

Anyway. From now on the pact with myself is made:

You wanna hate yourself then go ahead and leave me out of it.

You wanna love yourself then let me know, I haven't fully choreographed my 'Watch it Wiggle see it Jiggle' opus and could use a muse ;)

ELL EYYY GAL UX EEE!!!

2011-06-29T11:30:00.001-07:00

It was with tickled amusement that I found myself en route to an LA Galaxy Soccer Game recently. Had you asked me Monday of the week that I went what I thought I'd be doing that Saturday night I would have given these as the Top 3 Options:

1. Hopelessly Texting an Attractive Female
2. Writing about the Hijinks of texting attractive females
3. Attending an event ripe with the possibility of acquiring new #s for future angst-ridden texting sessions.

I'm definitely not a Soccer/Futbol fan, I'd rank Hoops, Beisbol and Hurt that Guy in a Helmet in that order of enjoyment but in no way am I averse to watching a match. I very much enjoyed the World Cup and having had an extensive amount of training in Stage Combat through my cumulative years in Acting Conservatories I'd most certainly be adept at rolling around and flipping to and fro pretending I was mortally wounded on the pitch.

I actually went to a World Cup game back in oh, what was it, I'm gonna say 1994 when it was in New Jersey. I believe I witnessed a game between Bulgaria and Mexico? I think those were the squads. One was European and one was Western Hemisphere Latin. I also remember possibly going to a New York Cosmos game to see Pele play although I was very very young.

Truth be told my childhood had a soccer ball in it before any sports sphere could make its way onto my impressionable limbs. My dad was Israeli and played soccer in Israel a lot. I cannot deny or confirm if he played in some professional capacity but I know he was exceedingly good at it along with all sports related activities. Having come to the States as a baby I'm sure my dad was somewhat resigned to the fact that I would end up indoctrinated by American Sports. Nevertheless he side-stepped the baseball mitt in the backyard father-son activities and thwacked a soccer-ball to me in lieu of the ol' cowhide. I was not inclined towards athletics as a kid and found joy in art and drawing if you can believe it although as was expected I became an ardent fan of American sports and surely put my father through hell during the times he had to escort me to a baseball game as a kid.

I find it ironic that Soccer fans almost always hate baseball and claim that it bores them to tears. I happened to be sitting next to someone at the Galaxy game who echoed those very sentiments. His logic was that soccer matches take 90 minutes no matter what and there's always something going on. I would counter that argument by saying that sitting in the middle of a shopping mall and watching people shop is like watching soccer, there's always something going on but nothing that necessarily warrants excitement. Look, it's not that thrilling a game and unless the fate of a country lies in the outcome it loses its mojo. Watching International Matches are a whole 'nother ball o' wax, those games are like wars. In fact I would say rather than bombing or engaging in illegal unconstitutional wars Nations should duke it out on the soccer field. Yes , that would mean the US would lose every ounce of its power and Brazil would be in charge of the world...I'm cool with that. I think the Brazilians could teach Americans a thing or two about sexuality and the removal of large metaphysical inanimate objects from their rectums.

Anyway, so the Galaxy game, match or scrimmage or well, actually, let's just say sporting event was interesting to say the least. Not interesting from a game perspective but interesting from a social event perspective. For one, it just seemed to me like the players could give a rat's ass about the outcome. David Beckham seemed genuinely unenthusiastic, it was as if someone wound him up before each half so he could go through the motions. Either that or he was a Manchurian Candidate in training waiting for his handlers to set him upon one of the many low-income fans who passionately rooted for him.

Then there was Landon Donovan of the iconic 'sliding on his stomach during the USA's thrilling World Cup' moment. He absolutely cared. He was the lil' relentless motor that always drives you crazy if you're playing against him. Someone who not only takes it way too seriously but is tinged with an element of whiny self-entitlement, as if Mommy and Daddy told him he was special waaay too much. He ended up scoring two goals and on his second one he jumped up and punched his fist in the air and rambled towards the fans to express his profound affirmation in getting what he deserved. Thing was, none of his teammates joined him in his effusive display of competitiveness. This was nowhere near the mob scene you would see in a European match where everyone climbs aboard the goal scorer knowing that their lives would not only be spared by the Pitchfork Mob but that neatly trimmed poonany and ale would be had by all afterward. Here Landon's teammates were clearly pre-occupied by what the traffic would be like on the 110 going home, which crappy fast food place was open nearby after 11pm and when the appropriate moment would be to reveal to their booty call that they don't in fact play for the Anaheim Ducks.

Perhaps if the Galaxy were threatened by hordes of illegal immigrants who just found out that the Dream Act was voted down for the fifth time after a loss there'd be more on the line for them. Maybe if Bex was promised a hall pass for a free shag with a Gordita if he scored a goal he'd bend it a little tighter. Hey, what's my verb? If Beckham has 'Bend it like Beckahm' what would mine be? 'Complain over it like Issac?' 'Approach the chick with the Boyfriend like Issac?' , no too long. How about 'Jew it like Issac' that's the one. What does Jew it mean? Well, Michael Jackson once sang 'Don't Jew Me' which was never fully explained. I suppose he could have been saying don't take me with you to pick up pennies or don't put that piece of gefilte fish on my plate. Perhaps don't Jew me means don't cast me in a Hollywood production, who knows. But 'Jew it Like Issac' could mean Kvetch about everything and then take a yoga class in purple tights while uttering 'Oy' during the hamstring poses.

Wait, it just hit me, there was a Prince concert at the Forum this very same night. How tragic. Someone should have told Landon to do a split and hand out Jehovah Witness booklets to the Latinos during his celebration to make me feel a little better.

Anyhoo, here's what provided the most entertainment for me at this game: Two sections of fans comprised mostly of Latinos that cheered, sang and chanted religiously every second the game was being played. It was unbelievable. Here was the scene: In the corner of the stadium to the right of one of the goals a section was packed to the gills with fans all wearing navy blue or some facsimile thereof. At the bottom of the section was a railing and a small concrete platform where someone would stand and literally conduct the section like an orchestra. This person would whoop them into a frenzy along with a drummer into all sorts of songs and incantations. There must have been at least a dozen different songs and I for the life of me could not make any of them out or understand the lyrics. At various points the 'Conductor' would be replaced by someone like a tag-team wrestler who would grab the baton and keep them hollering and hooting. They never took a break. In all my years of going to professional sporting events not once have I ever witnessed a part of the fan base exert itself to such a degree for such a consistent amount of time. I mean, I've sat with the Bleacher Creatures in Yankee Stadium several times and they barely make it to the 5th inning before they're all drunk and looking to beat up people. Also, across the way was another section dressed in all white who was engaged in the same histrionics but they had no conductor. What they did do, which was super cool, was at various points they would simultaneously jump up and down while moving either left or right; so it looked like the entire section was moving.

So after doing some research it turns out that these cats are called the LA Riot Squad, yes, I know. Their motto is Veni Imbibi Vidi which basically means we came we drank we conquered, yes, I know. They have a PDF that you can download from the main LA Galaxy Site that has a sheet of all the chants and songs they sing, yes, I know. The 'LA Galaxy Hymn' sung to the tune of the Marine Corps Hymn starts with the lyric 'From the heart of downtown Naperville to the Slums of San Jose'...yes, I know. We have a chant we sing religiously at Knicks Games in Madison Square Garden, goes a lil' something like this 'When the #@%$ are you gonna win a !#!^&ing playoff series!!!...clap clap clap [repeat]. There are no chants at Yankee's games, we just all stand and point to our ring finger 27 times in a row and then sit down ;)

Sooo....my feeling about all these shenanigans and thangs about the Galaxy game is this: It's a frikkin Galaxy Game!!! I...I mean, why the passion, why care?!? It seemed all misplaced. Is MLS being mythologized in Mexico? Is going to an LA Galaxy game a rite of passage for immigrating to this country? Do they sit around the campfire with the coyotes before crossing the border and speak of El Bex? Do they practice moving in unison? So, the Galaxy, they just won the...wait, what do you win if you win the MLS Championship? What's it called? Does the winning team get crates of Monster Energy Drink? We won it all! We get to go to a Dodger game next week, yay!

I honestly do not understand, really, I don't. I guess I'm a spoiled professional sports brat from the East Coast who has always rooted for major teams my entire life. I've never embraced a local semi-professional team. Nevertheless, I can understand fans going nuts for National Soccer teams but regional teams in the States have never and will never be nothing but a novelty.

Okay last point, the LA Galaxy play in the Home Depot Center located in...wait for it...Carson. That's not LA County is it? Shouldn't they be the Carson Galaxy of LA or The LA Depot in Carson's Galaxy or better yet the Carson's Home Galaxy Depot near LA!?

Muy weird. I doubt I'll ever go again. Every time the Carson's scored a goal (three in this game) they played Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that one day the LA Riot Squad took to the streets with their hymns and songs blaring that track in their boomoxes. Better get that PDF in your hands and learn them there tunes pardner, these futbollers from Carson mean bidness.

Yes! And One! And Another and Another...

2011-04-20T00:05:00.001-07:00

Another stomach punch loss by the Knicks last night, oy, it's uncanny how often through the decades they've managed to perpetuate the same pattern of defeat over and over. It goes something like this: Adopt the Underdog role, give your fans low expectations but an itchy gnaw of belief that there's a chance for success, play amazingly well throughout the game but relinquish the lead by the end only to lose in the final moments or play awful the entire game but then fight with all your heart and guts to overtake the deficit...only to lose in the final moments.

Although I won't go as far as to say that the Knicks are responsible for my love life in this lifetime I will aver that they've most certainly added the garnish to my romance cocktail of distrust which has quenched the thirst of a belief that floods my system with the idea that all encounters with females will end in heartbreak.

I mean, what I feel now definitely has the same DNA structure of how I feel when I'm blown off or rejected by a woman although it would be a lot more fun if I could watch the game of me in my game so I can cheer myself on during my approach or hurl obscenities at the opposing beauty when she commits egregious fouls that go unnoticed by the Universe and Gods of Love.

So why do I do this to myself? Why watch the games? Why incur the stress of a defeat that really has nothing to do with my life? Because for me, sports have always provided the perfect petri dish to experience and observe the myriad of ways humans perform for victorious results. As an Entertainer/Actor/Comedian/Verbal Warrior I will always be fascinated and drawn to methodologies that bring me to my fullest capacity of expression when I perform for an audience.

Despite never actively participating in any school team or recreational league at any point competitive sports has always had a significant impact on my life. I'm not a guy who just passionately roots for his teams but one who loves to play them as well.

As someone who has watched thousands upon thousands of hours of sports what's exciting and what really hits home with me is the precipitous tightrope an athlete tip toes in pushing too hard for results or just being in the zone where everything flows effortlessly between their physical and mental efforts. As a Comedian and Artist I'm always seeking those tasty fibers of being where I've escaped the clutches of the Monkey Mind; to exist in a free associative state where I'm trusting every moment. To be present without having to go within or dip into my bag of tricks to deliver the performance that's daring and full of impact.

Since getting back into playing Basketball for the past year or so I've really been astounded as to how I approach the game and how it's such a perfect mirror for where I'm currently at in my life and what challenges I'm dealing with.

First let me say this, these days I'm in an amazing wonderfully happy space. Every day I pop outta bed and start humming and dancing which eventually leads to me singing to my fish as I feed it. I can encounter gut wrenching news stories full of lies and injustice and for the most part not careen into a place of anger. However, I encounter the opposite of the happy love love Issac every time I climb into my vehicle. For God's sake, I have a sticker on my car that says 'Got Love?' yet at every 30 second interval I'm shaking my head in disbelief and hurling epitaphs at the relentless idiocy of the drivers on the fucuckhta streets of La La Land. Being Zen and able to connect to my breath throughout my day has become more and more easy yet get me behind the wheel and I will set a Buddha Statue on fire and curse Gandhi if he cuts in front of me in the left lane of a 4 lane street and then slows down. I just can't get over that, it always whips me into a frenzy; it just makes no sense! Why are you fighting your way into the fast lane to slow the eff down!?!? It's like fighting tooth and nail for the hand of a woman only so that you can sap her career aspirations and lock her up in a home while you run around and dedicate your entire existence to your work...leave the poor female and the free flowing lane alone you putz!

At any rate, I just wanted to illustrate how I'm not one to get into confrontations these days. So it was with bemused bewilderment that was experienced by my higher self as it looked down on the more angrier aspect of me as I almost got into fisticuffs on the basketball court recently. What set me off? Well, I was asked to join a game at the last minute and I obliged. The teams were divvied up and I was given this one dude to guard. The dude took one look at me (wacky hair, Hendrix tee, long workout pants and a weight that was probably eclipsed by everyone's girlfriend in the gym) and immediately pointed to his friends with a smirk as he began making his way into the paint. What does that mean to the lay person? Well, he was thinking "Oh man, I'm gonna post this weirdo skinny punk up and get some easy points'. Oh really? Out of nowhere all my survival and competitive instincts arose from within, it was as if I was being heckled during my act. I immediately began bodying this chump, forearm in the back, holding my ground. Once the pass came into the paint I jumped over his arm swatted the ball, turned and then picked it up before it went outta bounds and hurled it at his leg so that it would be off him and bellowed 'Off your ass mother%$%!$!"

Cut to a stunned gym interspersed with some mutterings of 'damn' and 'oh sh&@'. Cut to a few plays later as we're being separated and put on different players to guard as the putz was threatening me with bodily harm while I yapped at him incessantly. Cross fade to the same guy and I crossing paths at the end of the game and acknowledging each other with a fist bump as his eyes whispered 'Aite lil' man, way to not back down'.

I've always thrived in these situations, coming outta nowhere, performing in order to prove something, sneaking up on you and not knowing what hit you; it's the element of surprise that fuels me. Some of my grandest most satisfying comedy shows have been where I'm aware of the audience reacting in a way that says 'Wow, who the hell was that guy?'. It's when there's expectations or an undue amount of pressure to live up to the idea of who I might be to people that I find myself subconsciously looking for ways to sabotage the moment. That's not to say that I don't perform well when there's a lot on the line, it just takes a lot more focus and energy to manifest the results I want.

There have been many instances in games where I've excelled at this role. I'll never forget that intense pick-up game in San Francisco 20 years ago where my two friends vouched for me and talked me up so that I could participate in the skirmish. The satisfaction to hear them roar and talk smack on my behalf after I hit two long jumpers in a row cannot be measured. I know, 20 years ago and I still remember it so vividly. I have quite an amazing claptrap of a memory yet it's interesting how I've retained so many images and moments of success throughout every year of my life when it comes to sports.

I think one of the most indelible moments of my athleticism has to be when I played with MCA of the Beastie Boys on the same basketball court around 15 years ago. Back when I lived in the city I used to frequent this concrete court in the Lower East Side where the games were super competitive but never obscenely contested; meaning that cats rarely took themselves so seriously. Anyway, one afternoon after finishing a game who happens to show up with several dudes but Adam frikkin' Yauch. I was and am an enormous fan of the Beatsies and was tickled to no end by one of my heroes being in my midst; quite a lanky shadow of a guy and not nearly as tall as I had thought. He was unassuming, humble, perhaps a bit zooted and had you not recognized him you'd never now he was an international rap superstar at the time. So he was on the opposing squad and I was so thrilled by his presence that I proceeded to have one of the greatest games of my life. I was all over the place, making ridiculous moves, spinning on a dime, playing relentless defense and even checking Senor Rhymin' & Stealin' at various moments (he didn't really have that good of a shot). What didn't occur to me at the time was that he was probably thinkin' that this was normal for me when it wasn't even close to being true.

So halfway through the game after defending a shot I spun and went for the rebound off the front of the rim. People...I jumped so high for this rebound, I mean high, higher than I may have ever jumped in my life, time stopped. I remember looking to my left and noticing the rim for the first time as if I was witnessing a pussy close up for the very first time, I'm surprised I didn't make an effort to lick it. I then remember looking down like Wild E. Coyote over an empty space above a canyon hundreds of feet in the air and wondering 'Well how the hell am I going to get back down to earth?' Next thing I know I'm plummeting as a poof of a cloud inhabited the space I had just occupied in the stratosphere with no idea how to land. Somehow I managed to outlet the ball but I landed smack square on my elbow...ouchie. I played in pain for the rest of the game but was not the same and after denying the pain for days went to a doctor who confirmed that I had a hairline fracture and put me in a sling for weeks.

Now why would this never leave my mind besides the fact of MCA being there? It's because that it's an absolute proof that while jubilant excitement can lead to an enhanced performance it still provides the peril of defeat once you dip into self awareness and let the mind comment on your current state. I was having the show of my life but once I propelled into unfamiliar territory, rather than continuing on the flow and trusting that I was capable enough to handle the results I was generating I popped out of myself and said 'Yo Z, look down'.

But what has to have had the most profound imprint on my psyche during this lifetime happened during a children's game when I was 8 years old. Ah, ye olde kickball field, I rue the day it triumphed over my impudent yet fragile spirit. Back when I was in grade school there was less hysteria on how kids were handled. There was no insane amount of laws and rules that prohibited kids from acting like kids. There were no overarching agendas of intense safety and suffocating behavioral conditioning; we were basically allowed to do whatever the hell we wanted to when left to our own devices. This extended to the Teachers as well. They weren't so concerned with being hit by lawsuits or having their foibles exposed through electronic mediums. So it should come as no surprise when I say that we played kickball on a concrete part of the playground during school. This particular day there happened to be some sort of oil slick on what we used as 3rd base. Rather than having the spot in question dappled with orange cones and hazard tape the mere pronouncement of the stately frail Mrs. Nichols to 'watch out for the oil slick' was apparently deemed as sufficient to prevent us from injuring ourselves.

Naturally as teams were chosen by the Alpha Pee-Wees of the class I, being a bowl-haircutted lil' runt of a kid, was among the last chosen. I believe I was second to last, picked before the portliest girl of the bunch. For whatever reason, this was the day I decided to lash out at my diminished draft pick. As the rubber red sphere skipped towards my diminutive sneakers something raged from within, snub me no more ye mutant height freaks! I blasted that ball clear over the infield and into a gap that caused my schoolmates to chase after it in disbelief. I remember the wind in my face, the soft thud of my feet on the playground as I speedily zipped from painted outline to painted outline; I was incredibly fast for my size. As I neared 3rd base, you can see where this is going, I was clearly looking ahead to glory as the widened mouths of my 'team' either cheered or quizzically looked on at my superhuman feat. It was as if the planet decided to shift on a pinpoint, the ground reflected itself at a ninety degree angle and summarily slammed into my cute lil' punnum. Perhaps one of my classmates had a psychic mother who predicted my victorious punt thus causing them to innocently deposit the oil on the playground that day. Whatever the case was, I slipped on the trap and ended up sprawled and bawling with a busted lip on the stoic pavement. I still have the evidence of a faint scar if you care to look close enough.

A third-rate amateur psychologist can see how this event most certainly could have affected me with a pattern for my subsequent life: To succeed and rail against doubt only to come crashing down face first before hitting the finish line. I've experienced a lot of episodes like this in my life in many different areas dating notwithstanding. Yes the obvious rounding of 3rd base only to slip before home has duplicated itself in many a befuddling female, 'What? But, but you're, it's late and, you came over here and we, what? Leaving why? I...huh, umm, wait, you called me and...come back! I wasn't gonna play Prince I promise!'

I'll give you the ultimate nugget of wisdom that I've gleaned from the accumulation of all of these moments: It's that whatever is meant to show up in your space will show up whether you want it to or not. You can choose to try to squeeze it and control it or let it flow through you without any attachment to its outcome while allowing it to take you on whatever journey it's meant to take you on.

I have never failed or succeeded in anything. I've either been in alignment with all that is or was existing in a way that was either judging or finding ways to control the infinite. My only responsibility is to cultivate my reliance and awareness of my intuition thereby enhancing every moment so it clearly shows me when it's time for me to act and when it's time for me to surrender.

How did we get from the Knicks ripping out my heart 'Temple of Doom' style to such a blatant Kumba-Ya moment? I dunno. What I do know is that I can't wait for Friday for Game 3. I'll make some calls to see about getting some lube placed in front of the Celtics bench.

A Fukupped Situation

2011-03-21T13:35:00.000-07:00

Oy.

What a mess. Where to begin, what to believe, how to deny and why is my bracket filled with so many red lines? While our country's response to the looming radiation disaster is to murder innocent Libyans and distract the news I personally am not ready to instantaneously forget about what's happening in Japan.

So let's get right to it cuz I got a lot of info below. I won't dilly dally on the speculation of all that is going on right now. I'm gonna get into what my approach is going to be in preparing myself for the possibility of harmful radiation hitting LA in the upcoming week or so.

I realize there's all kinds of reports and disinformation coming at you and filtering through it to find the truth can be daunting if you're not up for hunkering down to locate the atomic core of what is really happening. But let's just boil this down to the simple bullet points:

I know for a fact that a radiation plume from Japan has already reached Los Angeles and has passed over the United States and is making its way to the eastern shores of Canada. While this plume has been completely harmless and contained negligible doses of radiation the fact remains that the initial explosion from the plant due to the Tsunami and Earthquake spewed particles that eventually made it over to my city.

I know that there have been numerous explosions from other reactors at Fukishima that have been reported and that they too have most certainly spewed particles into the air. I know for a fact that at some point there were fires at the reactors that were spewing smoke and particles into the air. I know for a fact that there was a fire today at one of the reactors that caused workers to leave. I'm not going to try and figure out how much or which report is lying to me or telling me the truth.

I know that if the spent fuel rods are not cooled they will explode and we will have ourselves a major radioactive meltdown with ramifications that could affect the entire planet and generations to come. But that's still a major major if at this point so...

I'm just going to make a simple logical deduction:

If the initial blast made its way to Los Angeles after a week then the subsequent blasts that have already taken place will also make their way over here. Will the icky stuff from those blasts also be harmless? Possibly yes. Possibly no. It's not for me to wonder how but to be prepared in case they are.

I am not a physician, let's get that outta the way in case you were somehow deluded into thinking that being a Verbal Warrior includes moonlighting with a white-coat at buildings of death and misdiagnosis called hospitals. I am vigilant about my health and diet and have been for quite some time. I'm keyed into all kinds of information and amazing people who have guided me and hipped me to modalities and ways of being that has made my life abundantly richer.

I'm only putting this out there to give people ideas for options or protocols that sound like it could be something that might work for them. Your body and your current health situation is waay different than mine, not better or worse, just different; I'm 5'6", a buck twenty two wet with a high metabolism and a small appetite, do the math.

What I've done is do what I do best, scour the net and my personal sources for information and recommendations regarding ways to protect yourself from radiation and then shaken them together to see what pops out at me. I've taken all of them into consideration and chosen the ones below as ones that makes the most sense for me and my comfort level at this stage in the game.

Aite, enough of the informal disclaimer, here's how I'm going to be dealing with this Fukufukup situation:

1. Himalayan Sea Salts - I've already had a bag of these salts on hand that I've used to make what's called a 'sole' for myself the moment that I wake up. It's an amazing way to start the day and help your body 'charge' itself with positive ions and minerals. To make the solution I take the raw 'rock' form of the salt and place them in a small glass container of water. I then let them sit for a day or two so that they saturate the water making a solution. I then take a glass of water in the morning and put a teaspoon or two of the solution in it and chug it down. You can get good Himalayan Salt at their site or any other source you want, it's gonna run you about $30. I also would think about getting your hand on Sea Salt for baths as well as it's a powerful way to cleanse and detox your system from possible radioactive particles. Mountain Rose Herbs sells a pound of Dead Sea Salts for 5 bucks, that's as cheap as you're gonna get for premium results. I'm sure you can find pricier options that boast all kinds of life changing effects including the ability to use your irises to laser-zap idiots and slow-pokes off the road during rush hour traffic so feel free to pay through the nose if it makes you feel better.

Oh yeah, another great way to start your morning on a detox level is to boil some hot water and then slice off half of an organic lemon and let that steep for several minutes before drinking. Easy, cheap and great for cleansing your system.

2. Ginseng & Bladderwrack - I know there's lots of herbs out there that one can take to boost the immune system and all but I'm not screwing around and am going for the numero uno bad-ass in my book and that's Ashwagandha Ginseng. I'm gonna look for an American Based producer of the root that's alcohol free and wildcrafted and take about 3 dropper-fulls of that a day. I like Nature's Answer products and you can find that online for literally $10-15 if you search properly. I know that you can pay an arm and a leg for good reliable Ginseng and I'm sure there are more potent blends out there but as long as I trust the source I don't feel it's necessary to dole out fifty plus bucks for an ounce of good ginseng simply because I don't think there's such a huge drop off in its efficacy from one brand to the next; again this is as long as you feel your source is pure. I also am gonna add Bladderwrack to my protocol because it's gonna boost my thyroid and for me personally it also has sensational qualities for my health in general. You can find that really cheap online as well and I'm gonna blast a dropper-full of that in my system right after the 'Sole' in the morning.

3. Nascent Iodine - Okay, now I know everyone's all freaked out and going nutty about Iodine and Pottasium Iodide tablets. Every Rite-Aid and Drugstore is being raped of the stuff and most of the online outlet's stocks are bone dry. I don't feel this is intensely necessary at this point. For example, if you happened to get your hands on Potassium Iodide tabs you're not supposed to be taking those until the radiation is at hand, they're highly dangerous and could have severe side-effects on you depending on your health. I would highly recommend consulting with your doctor on that one so that he or she can tell you to wait until Big Pharma takes their hand out of their ass, wipes it on their coat and works on an iodine product that will have a commercial consisting of wacky non-threatening humans with whitened teeth smiling at you in a field; I put my money on Iodyzlaxyzzin as a possible name.

Anyway, from what I can tell the Nascent Iodine is the best way to slowly boost your thyroid without overwhelming your system. You can find bottles of the stuff online for $25-35 and just taking one single drop of it and slowing working your way up to 3 or 6 is more than enough at this stage of the game. Apparently 95% of the country is Iodine deficient so radiation or not it's a powerful way to boost your shield (thyroid gland) as well as your energy levels. Now should you not wanna go the Iodine route you have alternatives such as....

4. Seaweed! - This stuff is way cheap. You can find this at Whole Foods or any Asian Supermarket and just horde pounds of this stuff. Algae is immensely nutritious, has loads of natural iodine in it and you can just start eating this stuff daily. If you want to be even cheaper about it do what I did: Get Kelp powder. You can find Organic Kelp Powder in stores or online for close to nothing! I got a 1lb bag of Kelp powder for three frikkin dollars, that's less than the price of a comic book. I like doing Comic Book economics as in: I can take this babe out to dinner and look forward to a smooch on the cheek and weeks on end of texting and lonely wank sessions or...I could buy 25 comic books. Hmm...yeah I opt for a trip to Meltdown Comics on Sunset or staying home and doing this :) Anyway, I take a tablespoon of Kelp powder a day and if necessary will work my way up to three tablespoons.

5. Chlorella - A super powerful food to aid heavy metal detoxification along with a host of other benefits, this was one of the major action items on my list especially in response to the potential radiation coming our way. I've been meaning to add this into my regimen for a while now so it's not like I'm stretching myself into an arena that's completely reactionary and fear-based. If my body is going to be exposed to harmful iodine, cesium, strontium and other particles that could devastate my system then chlorella is going to be a Superhero in knocking these suckas outta my body with a Kapow. There's lots of sources to buy Chlorella but I just got some off of Mercola.com where they're having a special, three bottles for $38, free shipping. That's gonna last me 3 months if I go all out with 15 a day but I plan to work my way up with 5 a day for a week and so on and so forth. With all this stuff I feel it's important to slowly introduce your body to it to see how it reacts first rather than bombarding it with foreign substances no matter how healthy they may be. Just take it easy no matter what you do unless you're down with the possibility of harsh detox reactions such as rashes, headaches, fevers or urges to believe in the Knicks winning a playoff series, you know, the regular stuff.

6. Vitamin C - Yeah Yeah, yaaawn, how boring but it cannot be denied that Vitamin C is tantamount to an impenetrable immune system. I personally have always felt that food should be your primary source of Vitamin C and that does not include sugary fruit juices from concentrate, those are big no-nos. I believe citrus to be too acidic and less reliable than green foods so I get my Vitamin C primarily from Kale, Swiss Chard and Broccoli which is the Regal Emperor of Vitamin C. If you're looking for the yummiest way to get kale in your diet look no further than the 'All Hail Kale' salad at Veggie Grill on Sunset & Crescent Heights; you won't believe you're eating healthy.

I've also begun to cook a whole lot more since moving into my new space and one of the easiest recipes I've learned is Broccoli Soup. It literally takes 5 minutes. You get some broccoli florets or cut them yourself, boil them, put them in a blender with the water from what you used to boil them, puree it, put the puree back in the saucepan to heat a little more and season...and that's it! Deelish and beacoup Vitamin Cee.

Should you be in the market for a Vitamin C supplement I recommend World Image Naturals Vitamin C. It's the best Vitamin C supplement out there for the price and quality, around $22, and anytime I feel run down or out of sorts their C does this trick.

Side Note: Since I'm giving you my whole health spiel I would be remiss if I didn't mention Blessed Herbs. For the one and a half of you that actually follow my blog you'll know how profound an impact this cleanse had on me when I did it last year. If you asked me what you should do to get healthy right now this very moment I would tell you stop what you're doing and splurge for a Blessed Herbs colon cleanse and Internal Cleansing kit, without a doubt. Your gut is the foundation of your health and unless you're strictly a raw foodist or a major detoxing health nut that posts 30 posts a day on Facebook of your cleanses and absurd health events and videos your gut is 100% compromised. Not only that but if I could go to Vegas and put money down on you having parasites I would...because you do. Really, just take a second to go to their site and consider it at the very least, [BlessedHerbs.com] it's a commitment and it's intense but my goodness you will be a completely different intelligent monkey afterward, this I garrunnntee. Moving on...

7. Coconut - Yum Yum Yum. Sooo good for you and so scrumdeeleeyumptious. I've read a lot about all these high end coconut products and creams and oils blah blah blah...look, go to your local health food store or market, get some young coconuts for a coupla bucks each. Have them crack them open for you or if you're in a Romancing the Stone type of mood get a machete or cleaver and hack the sucker open, drink the water which is filled with all kinds of good stuff and way better than all those coco waters on the market which are intrinsically going to be less nutritious due to their being packaged, heated and shipped. Scoop out the meat and eat it or chop it up into your smoothies or whatever. Guys, this is especially good for us and our bits and pieces. I've been doing 2 a week but will probably up it to 4 going forward. I add this pricy Whey Protein I get from Mercola to the water and meat that I blend into a smoothie along with some raw eggs and you can do that as well with whatever powder or superfood that you normally use.

8. Black Mica Extract - Okeedoke this is where we begin venturing into the extreme. I'm not getting this off the bat but keeping it on my wishlist as I keep an eye on the developments in Japan as well as civilian radiation readings on the West Coast. Should the news get dire and it gets confirmed that readings are shooting through the roof over here I trust that the regimen above will be more than adequate to get me through the initial days or weeks but going forward I want this in my cupboard. It's pricy but is by far and away theee most potent way to get every single molecule out of your water that's no bueno, including radioactive ones. It will also raise the vibration and frequency of the water as well. You know there's all this caca out there about ionized water or high frequency waters made through machines or wands or this and that and I'm gonna tell you point blank: They're all Bullshit. No really, I know, you heard read blah blah listen to me...boool shiiite. Unadulterated poop and a drain on your wallet. Sell them on eBay stiff someone else with it whatever, stop using them or paying through the nose for them it's a waste of money. That's not to say that a bomb-ass water filter like Berkey or Aqua-Sana is something you should dismiss or not use, absolutely vital in keeping your water drinkable but this other stuff is useless. At any rate, this Black Mica is the real deal and worth every penny if you're going for the gusto and at some point I will whether the icky waves make it from Fuku or not.

9. Chocolate Chip Cookies - Look, you gotta know whut I mean? Whatever is your form of chocolate chip cookie do it and do it happily with a wiggle in your tushy. Life is meant to be lived and enjoyed, do the things that make you happy. Mine includes a hearty cup of tea with a cookie or brownie...and only the good stuff for me, like the 8 bucks a bag kind of stuff. Yes sugar is bad for you etcetera tera ta ra but I will never opt for a joyless life built solely on protection and fortification. I want a chocolate chip cookie that makes me feel like I just saw a beautiful woman walk by in a tight purple skirt, heels and a Yankees cut-off tee, yes, make my groin grumble you crumble of chocolately goodness you. I may be sitting in a bath of sea salts mainlining Ginseng into my veins but I'll be damned sure to have a cookie waiting for me when I get out...and you should too.

Well there ya have it. I'm sure there are plenty of other things people are saying for you to do unless you're a brotha from Chicago/Kenya owned by foreign banksters which would mean you'd be saying 'Do nothing and watch TV' while smiling and making your college picks on ESPN. Oy, everyone realizes he's an absolute scam at this point, right?

Look, if you outlay around a hundred or a hundred fitty bux you'd be more than set to get your body rolling and pumped up with happy stuff that will stop the potential icky from making its way into you. That's insanely cheap considering what the consequences may possibly be if you don't. For chrissakes don't they have absurd bottle service deals at low frequency clubs where you plop down hundreds for a bottle that they bought at CVS for forty bones so you can drink it with friends that used you to get in and have your tucchus be grinded on by a wanna-be gangsta from Cerritos who swears he's Snoop's cousin? Take one Bottle Service night off and you'd be golden.

Trusting this provided you with some info and love, I'm gonna bounce and get a kettle of water going for my tingling sweet tooth, ciao!

Gut Check Please - Day 21

2011-01-31T00:32:00.000-08:00

What?!?

Day 21? Dude, I thought you were gonna post daily during this cleanse of yours, what the hell happened?

Hold on, don't give us the world and the Universe are spinning at a high frequency and the laws of time are being bent to degrees not seen in millenniums excuse, you've used that one before. Did this cleanse keep you riveted to the loo hours on end, were the capsules laced with herbs that caused the pads of your fingertips to swell into moons making it impossible to type? Was some babe you met obsessed with having you service her on your laptop. Did an Alien...

Okay okay enough, I got it. jeez. Well, truth be told I did emit a ginormous post on my European trip during this hiatus of cleanse posting that took a major chunk of time to complete since I had a lot to draw from and wanted to sift it through a specific sieve. The date I began it was earlier than some other posts which is why it didn't post right before this one. Look, the bottom line is this: I'm encountering a lot more resistance to this cleanse than I did the first time around.

The first time I did this last year if was an absolute revelation. It took me years to finally step up to the plate and go through this process but once I did the results were phenomenal and life changing causing me to vow to engage in this endeavor on an annual basis. As the days dwindled on 2010 I realized the time of reckoning was upon me to begin anew on the Grand Detoxification and I excitedly jumped headfirst into the initial stages of this process.

Yet as it turned from the intensity and sprint of the colon cleanse into the disciplined marathon of the internal cleanse which addresses almost all of the internal organs as well as the lymph and the blood, I could feel myself slowing down, resenting the journey, finding it more of a burden than a joy.

I knew this time around was different because for some reason I made a mistake in the amount of droppers full of tinctures I was supposed to be taking during the first week of the parasite cleanse. I only realized this after the week was done but I didn't take that mistake to be just a slip, clearly I was holding on to something I didn't want released. Each day morphed into a different expression of Issac; some days the healthful abundant creative loving wide-eyed mischievous cherubic one. Other days saw the arrival of the self-destructive, self-deprecating, idling, procrastinating, sugar-toothed, bitter Issac. Some days it was an hourly shift from one to the other. If only I was living with a woman at the time, I could have challenged her PMS symptoms with my cleansing reactions in a Battle Royale of Cranky Madness!

As a result of my lil' mistake this upcoming week I'll be taking what I didn't take for my first week so this process has now been extended seven more days. Plus, since I found parasites again I have to take extra steps to rid them from my body completely so in two weeks from now I'll be doing a week long parasite cleanse all over again. Sigh....

An agitating development just wound itself up this past week and I just found out it has a deep significance as it relates to exactly what I'm going through right now...I had a rat.

Oooh, I'm shuddering to even think of it. Yes, I had some enormous rodent scuttling around between my floors and walls for a couple of weeks...hey! That's my excuse! Dude, this rat was keeping me up or waking me up at all hours of the night and my exhaustion precluded me from blogging consistently...boo ya!

At any rate, for nights on end you could fine me huddled half-naked over a spot in my living room at five in the morning with a ball-peen hammer knocking on the floorboards with the hope that this gnawing gnashing scratching blight on my nocturnal existence would leave me be. One would think that I would have contacted some sort of professional help immediately right? Nope! Not me! I'm the stubborn one remember? What was I thinking? I dunno, that it would just go away...no I couldn't have thought that, I'm not that naive, am I? Well, it took me forever to research who I wanted to contact and what their rates were blah blah blah, oh Issac, you're not ransacking the web for a good price on a variant cover of a prized comic book you're hiring a frikkin' exterminator! Oy vey, I drive me myself and I nutso sometimes, really I do.

So cut to traps being laid by a great service, hey, when I research I always and I mean always end up with the best, and the culprit was snared in the wee hours of an eve a coupla weeks ago. It was only this past week when my gardener volunteered to remove it from the premises, yeeaarghgh, couldn't even look at it, ran like a lil' girl up the stairs to jump on a chair and squeal. Hey, I admit it. Look, bugs, no problem, I can handle the gnarliest of roaches and stuff, I'm city proofed. But when you get to the ...anyways...so check it out, here's what I found out.

I was lucky enough to find some time to visit a good friend of mine who I rarely see and somehow the topic of her also having a rat in her home came up. I found that to be too highly coincidental and then she told me that she had spoken with an 'Energy' friend of hers who explained what this meant on a different level. To have a rat in one's home signifies that it is high time to dispose of something, someone or some way of being in your life; rats are emblematic of disposal. To disregard its presence or to put off its removal would only compound whatever issue is in your life and the Universe would find ways much more rattling than a rat to deliver that message to you. Pretty wild huh? To have this happen right in the middle of my resistance to this cleanse and at the precipice of this year which I know to be an enormous one for me as long as I can get out of my own way is quite monumental; so in a way I am truly grateful for this messenger finding its way into my life as and I ask your forgiveness in having to, well, dispose of you like I did.

So here I am, feeling groovy, 'a Witness for the Prosecution of a Hate in this here Love Affair', not sure why I typed that, random Prince lyrics make it through my fingers sometimes, can't help it. I manifested some swift results in the arena of my career these past several days, all sealing the doors rather than opening them. Had me confused and hurt for a moment or two until it dawned on me that my attachments to those results connected to those people had to dissolve so that the more authentic ones could be allowed into my life. Funny that, so easy to be wrapped around the finger of an envisioned sequence of events when in reality those chord progressions were only played for you to hear and know that the possibility of that symphony exists; does that make sense?

How about I let William Blake's line that inspired ol' Jim Morrison end it since I'm just up the way from his old Laurel Canyon abode:

If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is - infinite.

Gut Check Please - Day 5

2011-01-15T00:40:00.000-08:00

Headachy Sinusy Sniffly Shivery Phooey.

I mean, all good cuz it's symptomatic that I'm releasing some nastiness and should be par for this course of action yet on such a pristine circle the hours on your nail in the wall calendar day here in La La Land it was a bit of bummer to not be so amped to frolic in the sun amongst the nymphs nymphos nimrods nincompoops and ninnies that we lovingly call Angelenos.

I also didn't do my body any favors by faltering on the cleanse for a moment and indulging myself but dammit...I wanted it! Look I don't afford myself many pleasures that could be construed as destructive: no smoking no drugs no liquor no random sex "Damn You!" that was my cock don't mind him. But I do have a sweet tooth for chocolate chip cookies in particular and by God after a rattling five days it was hard to ignore the welp of a whimpering wee aspect a isolated island in the archipelago of all that makes up Issac; stranded neath a palm it wanted a widdle cookie.

I've grown quite fond of the Greenblatt's Deli variety on Sunset. They make them every day and have this wonderful gooey dark chocolate chip in a perfectly sized circumference. Not too sweet, not mushy, a nice blend of the crisp and the soft with no frills to detract from its purest ingredients. Plus with it only being a buck seventy five along with the close proximity to my home on Laurel Canyon it can be hard to avoid when a tickle on the tongue evolves into a rim shot at the roof of my mouth hoping the percussion will reverberate my brain into seeking out the chocka chocka.

You know, I've always said that I would be a spectacular judge for a Cookie Contest so should anyone know of one coming down the pike I'm your man. I'd love to be one of those judges on Bobby Flay's Throwdown on the Food Network. Oh man, to be able to bite into something and throw around a generous helping of superlatives and supercilious attitude while adding a dash of effusive random vowels as onlookers and chefs hang onto my every syllable...sign me up!

My goodness, really tired...got Infinite Jest in the mail several days ago been sitting on it looking for the right moment to wrap a napkin around my neck and dig into it, methinks now's the time, hmm, might not make it past a page or two.

Shouldn't let that stop me, I need to continue to learn the lesson of a baby step being as important as Bunyanesque leaps.

Gut Check Please - Day 4

2011-01-13T22:46:00.000-08:00

Sigh...

I was all vim and vigor out the gate this morning off to my class rocking a classic Paul Simonesque feelin groovy demeanor. Hit the tar running on a wave of skill and surrender.

But the moment my ego peeked around the corner and struck a match of fearful I inhaled a wisp of cocky and sidled up next to a steely counter of control. The wheels came off and all I had left was my mind which happily took the reigns and galloped through grey matter filled with idiosyncratic nothingness; little pustules of impoverished possibility.

The vim was still along for the ride so once my physical was spit out of the scholarly autoschediastical proceedings I was faced with the brick wall of no outlet for the amplified state of frenzied freestyle. It was if I was in the midst of a rousing game of dodgeball with dozens on each side and then all of a sudden the dozens vanish into thin air. Stumped I did what a normal juvenile would d0 in this situation...return to home base.

Upon alighting in Laurel I frittered away the frayed edges of my snap crackly poppin fresh doughy dizziness through various mundane monotonies and then took the rest of my tank to the gymnasium where I proceeded to lift more than usual while keeping my gaze on more tushies than usual. Amidst the clang clanging of the trolley cars of circular and rectangular irons nestled in clunky contraptions that seduced you with their cushy cushions and highlighted amber tendons I pondered the nature of my very artistic existence.

Twas bound to be a lumpy dumpy ride in the ol' confines of La La Land Fit N' Get Yourself Some Trim until I was thankfully roused out of my self encased humidor by the profile of one who immediately brought a smile to my face. I bounded out of the hypnotic cushiness leaving the detritus of blecchy thoughts in my wake and swung over to her on my Tarzan vine yodeling phlegmy Jew sounds in a sonic trill reserved for Muslim women.

She being Wifey of one of my closest amigos on Planet Terra all degrees of predatory male in a gym near a female in gym clothes was eradicated out of my system and I was able to truly express myself to someone who I knew would not only hear me but bless me with her unadulterated honesty and wisdom. Exhale...phew, okay back on target, back on the tar with my vim, a bit sullied and leering at me with his oblong obsidian pupils provoking me to find him some vigor and with a quickness.

Of course once home base was tagged again I allowed myself to be consumed by dalliances thereby incinerating the potential for a hearty productive eve. Yet here I am once again, keeping my word and intention to myself and the milky squares that beckoned the jab of my index fingers.

It was a good day although I ingested more icky energy than I let go of which is not what I want my cleanse to be about but sometimes, sometimes you have to insulate before you can aerate.

Gut Check Please - Day 3

2011-01-13T00:48:00.000-08:00

Well, I've got 'em.

I had a vague inkling that I did but had held out hope that I'd be clean free since I ridded myself of them last year. Tis not the case...I've got parasites.

Hey, easy now, don't judge me, you've got them too without a doubt. As healthy as I am and as vigilant as I am about the foods I eat, water I drink and products I use on my body along with nary a puff or toke of anything or drop of any hard stuff one would think my insides would be all nice and shiny...and they're not.

I can only wonder what this process would be like for a normal person who consumes processed foods, drinks, smokes and stuffs their gourd with sodas and pizzas. I wouldn't be surprised to see these capsules and tinctures shriek in horror at the sight of these people, hop out of the box and tumble away from before they had a chance to enter their 13th level of colon hell.

In all seriousness, and as much as I hate to sound like I'm preaching or telling you what to do from my high and mighty seat of health wisdom, I feel like everyone...and I mean everyone should be doing this type of cleanse or at least something like it at least once a year or possibly twice depending on how toxic your diet and lifestyle is. We live in a world that doesn't give our bodies a chance in the fight against toxins and unwanted icky wickies (medical term) from entering our system. To think that we can just waltz through life and not suffer the consequences of our actions and the endless bombardment upon our physical beings is irresponsible behavior if you ask me. Can you live long and healthy without undergoing some sort of deep detox or cleanse, well of course you could, but what quality of life would your physical reality be like down the line? What shape would your cellular level be in and would you be functioning at the level consistent with how you'd like to be?

For me, I personally reject all the stereotypical crap that comes with being an Artist. I find the romanticized notion of self destructive behavior and debilitating addictions to be prosaic and wearisome. To be in a creative space is not congruous with having to be on some sort of edgy line of life and death. Taking risks in art does not mean one has to take risks with one's physical and mental health; makes for a good biopic but not for an amiable collaboration. Anyway, I just...I have so much I see and wish to actualize on this planet artistically, visions that I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of so not being in the highest vibration of health to bring forth this ethereal electricity is not an option.

As for today, I felt the glint of exuberant happiness for some brief moments. It peeked through the stained crassness of my hazy exterior and darted around my space before evaporating into another dimension. I wrestled with moods and dabbled in differing belief systems. I also made a bad ass health shake...holy bejeezus! After a year of wanting to incorporate this regimen into my diet I finally plopped down the cashish for Mercola's Miracle Whey Protein. That's how I work really, deliberate stubborn dawdling towards my goals; don't tell me what to do I'll get there how I get there. While my mind is spinning at a gazillion rpms and spitting out boundless ideas my actual circumstances play the role of the slow but steady turtle. Oh the Whey, so added this Strawberry powder into a glass jar filled with some coconut milk I made by myself along with some raw eggs and a touch of this and that...best thing I've made for myself possible ever. Energy and brain activity went through the roof.

Now, the whole cracking/hacking open the coconut deal was quite an ordeal. I went and purchased a cleaver from B&B thinking it would render my coconut a helpless tropical damsel. Maaaaannn...I was flailing away at that shell for minutes upon minutes with shards of coconut shell flying everywhere and still was not able to crack the foocquer open. Maybe I just got a stubborn one to match my stubborn demeanor or maybe my cleaver was as dull and dimwitted as the cashier who checked it out. Maybe it became infused with the idiocy and listless qualities of the beings that stocked it at its retail outlet and when put to work it quit in spirit after the second thwack. Yeah, that's it!

Oof, it's late, got an early one manana. Yes yes you're wondering, well if you read the previous post that is, you're wondering about my lil' airport rendezvous/scooping. Well, let's just say..umm, not sure what to say, gotta be careful in this space, errrrr, well, whatever it is or wherever it goes, it feels nice, it feels really frackin' nice.

Gut Check Please - Day 2

2011-01-12T01:04:00.000-08:00

So I'm already on Day 2 of my Blessed Herbs Internal Cleanse and was thinking that I should be blogging every day of the cleanse as I did the previous year when I first did it since it had such a profound effect on me. Having already missed the 1st day I was about to abandon the entire enterprise when the gurgling of remorse in my gut began to creep around my spirit.

Thing is, I haven't been ecstatic nor overwhelmingly inspired to create as the new Gregorian year has dawned. While I see friends and acquaintances zooming off in their Jetson Mobiles riddling off hallmark apophthegms designed to elevate them to heights and abundance I feel decidedly stuck in my non-existent vehicle. I'm not at all playing a victim card but my spirit honestly believes that it's been left behind in some way. Now, perhaps this has something to do with the first part of the cleanse that I did which was the colon cleanse in that it's brought some fears to the surface. Whatever the case may be I'm putting on a smile to the world at large while exhaling deeply with a maudlin bewildered look on my face whilst alone.

I have soo very much to be thankful for and I'm doing what I can to focus on that but ultimately it comes down to me not being where I truly wish to be in my career, I would even go so far as to say that I don't even have one.

I threw away the coils of pride and ego a couple of weeks ago when I decided to audition for some classes at a place that I've been hearing about since the moment I stepped foot on this soil out here ten years ago. I'm not going to say who they are because I'd rather keep that anonymous while I go through the process. Needless to say, I got in and have started my journey in this school/performance space but I am most definitely at the bottom of the ladder which is causing me to bite my lip and stifle my angst during my time in these classes.

It's funny, I just got around to watching the UK version of 'The Office' for the first time and there was a clip I saw tonight where the blonde secretary is being interviewed and she says something to the effect of rather being at the bottom of the ladder in a place where you want to go versus being halfway up at a place where you don't, rather apropos that. Side note, thought the series was incredibly well done and funny but doesn't even come close to being in the same neighborhood as 'Curb...'. At any rate, taking these classes is going to be great for me, I know it, but it's been extremely challenging for someone like myself who has studied for decades to feel like he's been put back into a nursery school of sorts where you're trying to force yourself to forget that you already know every single angle of Duck Duck Goose.

The thing I kept repeating to myself upon being accepted in is that I would not focus at all at hurdling through the classes so as to advance nor get caught up in any drama or political nonsense that places like this cane produce ad infinitum. Rather I would stay in the moment and take solace in the fact that by undertaking such an endeavor will get the wheels of fortune turning in my favor.

This blog thing is such a weird medium, I mean, in a way I feel like it's a personal diary that nobody will ever read and at the same time I have the awareness that this could be being read by someone I know or eventually by an enormous swath of humans. It's quite therapeutic and far more satisfying than the piddly lil' blips of synapses and experiences being gobbled up by the book of visages and the evil lil' blue bird.

So I'm going to do my best to commit to this space again for the next 19 days at the very least while I'm going through this cleanse; it's the least I could do although I am absolutely a commitment issue person in certain areas of my life. On stage? Never, with people especially women...oh hell yeah.

I'm dreadfully awful in that regard. You know, I'm picking up this lovely female at the airport tomorrow night. Who is she Z? Here goes...Well, haven't seen her for a month plus and we're kinda sorta seeing hanging spending time et cetera que sera blah zay blah deflect detour next subject please. I will say that receiving a text from someone that says she can't wait to see me is a delicacy I've not even sniffed in quite some time and it was absolutely delightful...deep exhale, subject change, darting of the eyes, soooo how about those Knicks!

Europa Europa! Part II

2011-01-08T22:50:00.000-08:00

Before embarking upon musings of my Germany escapade back in November I'd like to tie up some loose ends with some final thoughts on Britain.

First of all, Londoners are abject clueless costumers when it comes to Halloween. I was there for my final Saturday night in London and what I witnessed would have made West Hollywood Drag Queens stand aghast in horror frozen by the icy grip of infinite faux pas in fashion and make up choices. The British seemed caught between not wanting to do anything and not wanting to do too much for fear of appearing to actually care for the holiday so they meandered in this gray area of half-assedness that made it even worse.

Apart from the ridiculous hats and rudimentary accessorizing the majority of revelers seemed content to smear on some arbitrary muddied rouge and streaky eyeliner around their faces thus passing themselves off as some facsimile of a Zombie or Undead being. But since their demeanor also included a pint of drunkenness, a cup of sarcasm, a dash of haughtiness and a pinch of paranoia what they really looked like was a bunch of fans that just came from a glam rock concert where they had been standing in the rain and punching each other for several hours. These Undead wouldn't last a second in a crowd of real Zombies before they began shrieking like Banshees, hell they wouldn't last a second at Bar Sinister in Hollywood amongst a mob of angst ridden Goths from Riverside.

I kept looking for the Homos and I'm guessing they all stayed in recognizing the futility of the situation. Honestly, a sprinkling of Gay Costuming Genius would have saved the day and may have even have gone so far as to inspire the anus puckered bunches of pint guzzlers. Maybe the Homos held private parties or walked anonymously amongst the normies gleefully indulging in endless moments of pure condescension not found on a normal night in London. I guess it would be kind of cool if Yom Kippur was a holiday celebrated by all whereby I could walk amongst the Gentiles on that day and snort at them whilst thinking 'Y'all have no idea how to beat yourself up, c'mon is it Yom Masturbation tonight?!? Stop stroking yourselves and make with the uppercuts to the stomach!'

Anyway, last tidbit on London which I'm still finding myself annoyed about: The Globe Theater. I was excited to visit this landmark, take a tour of the premises and have my picture taken on the stage of the Globe while holding a decidedly Shakespearean pose; it was the only photo op that I had my mind set on other than Abbey Road which I never got around to. So we get there and after a bit of investigating it turns out that tours of the Globe, after doing the math of pounds into dollars which had made me sickly and infuriated the entire trip, were around twenty bucks. Now...you might say that's not so bad, and, hey support the arts etc. but here's the thing: This wasn't the actual Globe Theater, it was a replica, built on a spot that they figured was where the original one was; they're not 100% sure. So let me ask you, hypothetically speaking, how would you feel shelling out twenty bones in Italy to walk around a replica of the Roman Coliseum or twenty bucks to walk around a duplicate rendering of Stonehenge placed in or around some guesstimate of where the original was? Exactly! Look people, this is a modern building! There's no 'Here's where the guys who dressed up like chicks shaved their legs sat and here's where the Queen parked her musty cooter' no, not at all, it's more like 'Here's where Nigel sits after enduring an hour long trek on the Picadilly line and there's where he puts his Starbucks mug'. Booool Shite. Ten bucks, tops and it should come with some snobby gent in a tweed coat who improvises sonnets on the spot that shows you around while making up stories about his acting career that's now non-existent.

Alrighty then, onto Deutschland!

Seriously people, I LOVED Germany. Loved it. Every bit. I had no idea what to expect as was the case for the entire trip but I was really taken by how extremely beautiful it was. Now, to be clear, I spent all of my time in and around Bavaria which is in the south of Germany.

Apparently Germans think of this area as Americans think of their South, all slow, backwards and quaint. I've never been to the South in the States save for a brief number of days at the University of Virginia when I went to see my closest friend back in my college days so I really don't have a point of reference to compare. All I can say is that everyone I met or witnessed while ambling out and about was kind, warm and generous. I never got the sense of really bad vibe from anyone. What amused me the most was the staring, as in people would stare at me for moments on end on numerous occasions. But rather than glance away or act caught when I noticed them they would just smile or nod their heads and continue to stare! There's a reaaaally bad Jew joke here that I won't oblige myself to write, no no, nope, not gonna do it, too easy. Hmm, how about this, a lil' more sophisticated: I wish I could have whipped out a yarmulke and some curls to put on the sides of my head and began snapping my fingers like a Rabbi in ecstatic prayer; that might've got them to feel a bit awkward about pasting their eyes on me right?

Here's what struck me the most about Germany...I could not believe how incredibly clean it was! Felix Unger would skip the pearly gates of Heaven and most definitely opt for Germany if given the choice. There was no litter or garbage anywhere, none, I didn't even see dust, like do these people decompose like normal humans?

I never even actually saw Germans cleaning which was even more bizarre. I could understand if they all had dusters on a utility belt of some sort with mini-vacuums, disinfectants and sanitizers as if Batman were a maid but somehow everything was always magically clean. I was so tempted to see what would happen if I dropped some refuse on the street. I wouldn't have been surprised if it either went up in smoke, entered a garbage stargate to be taken to another dimension (probably Newark, hmm, could explain some things) or if lil' sprites dressed as Saint Pauli Girls crawled through the crevices in the sidewalk and pranced away with it. Bottom line, no need to worry about Street Cleaning Parking Violations in Allemagne.

Next up...German Bakeries. Ooh, yes, see, mouth watering, heat flash, tiny currents of libidinous pastry desires coursing through my glistening taste buds. Seemed as if every corner had some sort of Bakery beckoning me and my palate with its delicate sugary confections. Oh my, so good, so cheap, so readily available and up to the task of satisfying the job at hand at all times...hmm, I think I also just described the Mexicans at Home Depot. But really, I mean, even a Gas Station convenience store, which was spotless of course, sold these pastries that rivaled any top patisseries in Beverly Hills. Awww, I miss my strudels.

Speaking of Strudels, let's get to the women for a moment. How do I put this...well, I really thought they were sexy but, no, not even a but, it's just that, well, I picked up on a, uh, naughty dirty quality to them if that makes sense; like they were all bad bad girls but in a good way not in a repressed unhealthy way that came out at random times or was a result of being subconsciously brainwashed into sluttiness by corporate entertainment. The sexuality was much more out in the open than in the States or London. I couldn't help but laugh every time I went into a Men's room, there were always condoms in a machine for sale and one lavatory had some type of a vibratinng tickler or sex toy in a machine as well, not making that up.

Did women's bathrooms sell pocket rockets? Were there uni-sex bathrooms that had a hook-up stall? See, that's a great idea, feel free to roll with that one if you got some venture capital lying around. Since people bang in bathrooms at clubs all the time why not just make it more accessible and practical for them? Make a stall with some cushions, soundproof walls, a swing maybe and a table of some sort. Decorate it with some updated Kama Sutra art showing positions of all kinds, litter the walls with some bawdy accessories and have it pumped with vanilla or lavender all night. Place a lil' toilet and sink in the corner and voila! No more texting, facebooking and driving to Santa Ana to have to meet up with someone you have no interest of getting to know beyond a simple smooch-a-thon.

Not that there's anything wrong with women from Santa Ana besides the fact that they live there. I almost think that could be the secondary dismissive excuse to blow off a guy after the boyfriend line. Honestly once a number begins with 714 or 949 I can feel myself crippling over into the despair of a hunched impotent invalid. I would not be in the least bit surprised to find out that chicks get Orange County numbers to use to stave off advances by dudes and douchebags, brilliant idea. Hey, when I lived in the city the moment you said you lived in Queens that was that. If you said you had a boyfriend and lived in Queens I immediately scanned the area for a Guido with a crossbow.

Okay back to Germany. Two events really punctuated my trip to Europe as a whole. I'll get to the second one at a later date due to the length of both. The first: My Birthday Walk.

My actual Birthday fell on a day while I was in Germany. Having already had a fantastic ass-shaking blow-out party in Hollywood before leaving that included an impromptu grind-on-the-bar /hop-onto-railings dance-off to Prince's 'How Come You Don't Call me Anymore' with some leggy blonde Australian babe I didn't really need to have a blow out in Germany although it would've been nice. What ended up transpiring was beyond what I ever could have imagined.

So my adventurous travel partner is a serious hiker/walker and we were staying at her mom's in Germany. She had an extensive knowledge of the surrounding areas and walking possibilities having lived there for many years so it was suggested to me that I join her on a meditative walk on my day of birth. She warned me that it wasn't gonna be a tidy two or three mile jaunt but rather a lengthy one of twelve kilometers or so. After doing the math and figuring out that meant around 8 miles which was a bit long for me I decided why the hell not, what else was I gonna do? I had already finished the 2nd book of the Dragon Tattoo trilogy, which was excellent, all I had left my was my new David Icke book which really isn't a page turning cuddle up in a corner type read. So I stuck an apple in my jacket and strode out the door following her lead.

The countryside was so majestic and picturesque that all the pictures I took didn't even come close to doing it justice no matter how wide a shot I took. As the yards and miles drifted into my time loop my breath steadied itself into a supportive apparatus for my spirit to begin it's dialogue with my mind, slowly but surely. Twas not a wordy conversation more so a 'Hey good to say hi again' type exchange. After a while it gently tucked my brain to sleep and I was wholly connected to source.

Our final destination if you want to call it that was a clearing that supposedly had a special energy and light being inhabited by it. I didn't feel it instantaneously due to my being pre-occupied by tiredness and the aches and pains associated with it. Yet after nestling in the center of this space it only took a few nibbles of my apple before I could allow my senses to tune into the tranquil buzz of conscious stillness infused with an undeniable essence of nurturing. I only had a brief experience of this because minutes later I was told it was time to go due to getting back before dark fell.

Cut to...dark. No, cut to...pitch black. We see our heroes walking along the road of the countryside with no streetlights save for the occasional shushing of a passing car. In each direction farmland stretches into the horizon, footsteps tread upon uneven ground as the cold creeps underneath hems and zippers. I had no sense of where we were on our journey back and at no point did I really recognize much so I was clueless as to how much we had left as far reaching home. At one point we got back to town but I wasn't clear if it was the same as where we were staying. Here's where it gets weird...

We reached a bridge, I was walking behind our heroine for the entire trek back but always kept her in my sights. As she disappeared over the hump of this smallish bridge she literally disappeared. When I got to the other side I had no idea where she went. I kept walking and didn't see her, a lil' touch of concern hit me and I quickened my pace while calling for her. When I got nothing back my pace quickened even more and before I knew it I was yelling and sprinting into the darkness which was the enveloping me now that I had swept past the town.

After collapsing into exhaustion I realized she was nowhere to be found and that I was on my own with no idea as to where I was. I had no money on me, no phone, no ID and spoke not a lick of German. My only option was to keep going and go I did into the darkness. Eventually I came upon a tiny stretch of homes that was nothing like where we were staying so I kept going. At this point I was quite distressed but...I never panicked. There was maybe one or two minutes of tears welling up and a 'woe-is-me what a way to spend a b-day' refrain but that passed rather swiftly. After going through more darkness and alighting upon another chunk of homes that looked nothing like anything I had seen I knew it was time to stop. Desperately needing tissues more than anything due to the sniffles I dragged my raw achiness to some sort of bus stop and contemplated taking a nap, I was thoroughly spent in every sense of the word.

Okay, I'm smart, I'm aware, I know no matter what that I'm taken care of on so many levels so there's no reason whatsoever to be upset or worry about not finding my way back somehow. That's what was so profound about this entire episode. Connecting to that truth. I mean, it's one thing to have that resonate when you're low on funds at home or when you're struggling onstage or questioning your success in your career and love life but to have that encompass every fiber of my being while lost in a foreign country was deeply powerful. To truly know it, to smile in the face of the uncertainty and laugh at the void...brought tears to my eyes.

Looking across from me were some cows chewing on their cuds, staring at me and seeming to nod their approval at my haircut. I queried them on my next move and they rolled their eyes at me and went about their business whatever that might be. I guess that's what I get from eating their cousins. Exhaling I stepped into the road and confidently began hailing down the rare trickle of motorists that was passing through. I wonder if the Germans were expecting me to break into song when they rolled down their windows due to my look. They love bubble gum pop music over there, maybe I should have broken into Pretty Young Thing by MJ, I probably would've gotten picked up and offered a gig. Took me about three cars before I was lucky to find someone who spoke English and they confirmed what I already knew which was to turn around from whence I came and walk back. I knew in my gut I must have passed where I was supposed to end up I just didn't know how the hell I did it.

Cut to a while later and me trudging into a townish area. Looking ahead were flashing lights, great, Aliens, just what I need now, can't you wait for the usual wait-til-he's about to sleep moment to mess with me...oh wait that's a car. It's our Heroine getting out and telling me to stop. Okay. I'll gladly oblige. What? Look to my left? I looked and there was the house where we were staying, I was found right where I was supposed to be by her and her mom after they had been driving everywhere looking for me.

Somehow I walked right pass the house and did it at such a moment that I just missed her going inside and coming back out to look for me or something like that, I can't remember that part. It was like I entered a Bermudashweigerstein Triangle when I got to the other side of the bridge and was in another dimension. Whatever the case was it was perfect and was meant to happen every second that it did and I am decidedly grateful for it.

To cap the entire affair I was let in on the actual distance of our walk. My fellow traveler apparently miscalculated the distance, it wasn't 8 kilometers it was 12. Factor in the distance I traveled beyond the home and back and I walked approximately 20 plus miles that day. That's more than I've ever walked in my life, as far as I know, especially in a continuous manner.

Wow. What a Birthday. One I'll never forget. Perfect in its execution on a bevy of levels and frequencies and I'd dare say the reason that I went on this trip to begin with.

I've said it, written it, thought it many times before but it was more a consequence of hope, bluster and expectation. This time I just know...and it's, it's really challenging to stay present in the moment when you know that all you've ever dreamed of is closer than ever. I falter into bouts of self-destruction as if that would test my reality for it's inexorable outcome. I rev up my communication and interactions to such a frequency that it's almost impossible to root into the simplicity of the now which is constantly telling me to relax.

I've been battling myself the entire time that I've been on this planet this time around. I've strategized sneak attacks and ambushes that generals would murder nations for. I've leapt out of chariots rushing me to my glory and derided fellow travelers so that I would deliberately be left behind. All because I didn't believe that all I've been given would be enough, there had to be a catch. Nope. No catch. No fine print to peruse or hidden clauses. No rugs over empty holes. No bait and switch.

On bloodied knees amidst weaponry strewn for miles I grapple with the last vestiges of a dying self during the weeks that I've committed to internally cleanse myself. White Flags appear and disappear. Let. It. Go.

Yup. I have no idea how I'm gonna get home. None whatsoever.

But I know I'm gonna get there.

Europa Europa! Part I

2010-11-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

Yowza.

That will be the first word to puncture this space in almost 8 months. That's somewhat pathetic. No, strike that, allow me to unequivocally commit to my abject pathetic obstinate nature in regards to this blog. Somewhat has no room or vote in that discourse, it has been soundly trumped by the majority of Absolutely. Absolutely Pathetic.

Yowza. I actually know a guy named Yowza, interesting cat, clearly. One does not go by a name based on a euphemism for surprise if one shops at Target for v-necks and Under Armour pull-overs. Apparently the word 'Yowza' is said to derive from Minstrel Shows back in the day and is a twist on the phrase 'Yes Sir'. Perhaps the Military should decide to pay homage to this decidedly racist tidbit and declare a Yowza day abroad away from the stinging glare of the politically correct media so as to break of the monotony of their illegal wars and defending of the opium crops. Oh hush, you know damn well you'd love to reply to a Drill Sergeant's request for your assent to being present with a firm robotic 'Za Yowza!'

But Yowza it was for I am deeply surprised as to how long it's been since I've blogged since it seems like it was only a month or two ago not eight. Is anyone still not be convinced that the notion of man made 'time' these days is nothing like it was a decade ago? Does your New Years Celebration of 2010 seem like a recent occurrence? The planet she be a spin spin spinning at a rapid pace mes amies.

I meant to enter my thoughts fresh from my return from Europe on here but, well, life happened and somehow it's already been 30 days since I set foot back on the hallowed bullyvards of La La Land. Make no mistake, I really missed home. I actually got homesick for a day or so while I was overseas and pined for the comforts and spirituality of my Laurel Canyon abode. As much as I adored Europe it was crystallized for me how much I love living where I do despite it's obvious shortcomings.

Also just occurred to me that this is my first post from my new amazing home in Laurel Canyon. My goodness, it has been a while. My life has completely shifted since moving out of the apartment that was my pad for over a decade. That craziness from my last post was not only a foreign entity clawing at my spirit but also the last vestiges of an aspect of my previous self attacking and grasping for dear life to a way of being that was no longer in alignment with my true path; as real as being hit by a bus with a slab of granite on it's front grill y'all.

At any rate, I traveled to the UK and Germany for a couple weeks having left the States for the first time in a decade. No I do not consider any trips to Mexico as leaving the States. I'm sure the employees at the SPP who are orchestrating the North American Union would be delighted to hear of my assessment of Mexico as it plays into their Globalist Takeover scheme. Nevertheless traveling to Mexico or Canada is akin to trekking out to Long Island or Upstate New York if you live in Manhattan: You rarely do it, you know it's right there, it feels like you're getting away but in reality it's not a far cry from your current locale save for the people who talk funnier than you and the opportunity to buy crap you really don't need.

Europe is a whole 'nother ball 'o wax. Not sure what the etymology of that phrase is, I remember it being something to do with wax seals and the apportioning of land by Feudal Lords but I could be wrong. Anyhoo, to answer why I decided to take a jaunt to Europe the reasons are quite benign: Because I had an opportunity to stay at friends of a friend and not pay for lodging and because I needed to get the f outta dodge.

I last zip zop zooped over the Atlantic back in 2000 when I went to visit my first ever sweetie who lived in Barcelona. Clearly that trip was booked by my crotch although my brain swears it was for cultural and escapist reasons. The crotch gets its playbook from the people that run both political parties in the US for sure, convince an otherwise unsuspecting good-intentioned thought pattern that it's motives are pure when in fact they're not. Actually I think I'm being too hard on myself, no pun intended.

So I was off to good ol' Brittania and Deutschland and deeply excited about visiting since I had never been to either. The most important facet of my plans was that there weren't any, other than my finding a way to make it to my flight. I had no itinerary, no agenda, no idea where I was staying or what I would be doing. I didn't do scads of research online for preferential site seeing and gastronomic fare I just figured I would find my way around or be led somewhere be it through human or universal guidance.

I'm sure we've all done the road trips with the family right? The long car rides where lines of demarcation are drawn on seat cushions to prevent your sibling from crossing into your hallowed territory of comic books, pocket electronic games and choose-your-own-adventure books. Should said sibling cross that line, ostensibly to shift position, regardless of motive it is grounds for an immediate excessive amount of noogieing/back-handery/or whining to the heavens. Days always seem to begin as if you were on your way to work at 9am. Long scrolls dipped in hotel jam and butter are unfurled at the outset of the day to declare the infinite amount of events and destinations that somehow have to be crammed into the space of a workday; it's as if you've been hired as a vacation extra. Truth be told I loved my family's excursions but that's what I didn't want to do, hustle my way around Europe squeezing every moment for what it's worth and littering my maps with more missions than a GTA game.

On a side note I left for Europe right before all this TSA Perversion starting being enacted on our airports. They did have the Radiation Hives in place but when I went they were not mandatory. Of course I had to open my big yap and make sure that they knew I would not be going through their Zap Mamas which caused an agent with an oak up his rectum to escort me to the glass cage where I had to wait like I was a specimen for a diabolical entomologist. I was given a pat down but nothing like the enhanced ones and I did what I always do when I get frisked, act ticklish, squirm and laugh at the top of my lungs.

On the way back I thought that my trip through security at Heathrow would be hellacious what with London being the epicenter of draconian invasive measures and surveillance. I even got to the airport waaay before my flight left to account for what I thought was surely going to be a long exhaustive process of me standing up for my rights in a tiny white room while blokes with thick Cockney Accents assailed me for my real Arabic name while wiggling enema kits in front of my twitching lips. Alas, twas just my imagination as I sped through security with no Death Ray Scanners in the span of ten minutes tops.

Back to the UK. Here's what I have to say about London. It's like New York City with an LA sensibility. What I mean by that is that there are hordes of people jam packed into the city whizzing to and fro above and below ground and just like Manhattan it is quite the Multicultural Bouillabaisse of peoples and cuisines. There's a vibrant theater scene, probably more so than New York and more integral, and the nightlife is as vast and potentially exciting as anything in the City that never snoozes. But the people...the people are well, hmm, a bit aloof, a tad frigid with a smidgen of haughtiness and indifference added to the who the fuck are you stew; a massive amoebic throng of uppity socialite demeanor. Perhaps there's some debilitating social chemical being infused in their cups of PG Tips that's the root of all this, a veritable British Fluoridation system delivering posh to the masses. Now I'm not saying they were rude, far from it, just, well, cold unless you knew them or were introduced to them. In that case they were friendly, warm, smart, generous and apologetic to a fault but getting past the yellow tape of some twisted form of Xenophobia was the key.

Across the pond New Yorkers can most definitely be brusk, bossy and insufferable but start chatting with someone on a park bench or in the subway and odds are in five minutes they'll tell you their life story, open up their heart to you and invite you over to Passover Seder or their exclusive Pagan Sacrifice underneath the Williamsburg Bridge. There's a veneer of extreme expiation that permeates the sensibilities of The British which is all well and good but the sincerity most assuredly can be questioned in most interactions. I'll take the boorish honesty and chaotic evaluation of a New Yorker any day. That's the crux of the LA Experience as well, the fear of expressing raw truth in social settings is replaced by saccharin sweetness and empty boasts of concrete promises that never make it to the mixer.

Look, I'm a chatty catty when I'm out and about or when I'm feelin' frisky but opening up conversations or flicking harmless questions to an unsuspecting Brit made most of them look at me as if I had gently nestled my hand on their bum...ha, I said bum. I thought chicks in LA were unapproachable sheeet, LA Women have a much more diluted form of spiky cold shoulders as opposed to English Women. Hey, maybe it's my look, or my accent. From what I hear there's been such a huge influx of immigration to the UK in the past several years that the natives are getting even more territorial and prickly. Clearly this would all be alleviated if they just gave one of the goofy ones a Talk Show but apparently their taste in humor does not extend to goofy foreigner yuk yuks. Actually neither does America but it's all about the marketing here and America's Advertisers would sell legwarmers to roaches if they could find a translator and corner the demographic somehow.

And now a word about Ass. Look, I am a Tucchus Connoisseur, an Explorer of Callipygian Beauties so despite what you may think of me I cannot but help, no pun intended, to look below the waist and sample what other locales have to offer as far as the bootay is concerned. Hey, you wanna run into a pub and get your ale on admiring the fine finish of an English Bevvy that's all on you. I get drunk off of the full bodied taste of feminine circumference so back off. Now, British Women's Posteriors were quite interesting. I mean, they were there, very present, but not memorable. Full but not bouncy. Functional but not fun. Not square but definitely not shelf like. Out but not adventurous. I agreed with them, one could not argue their existence but their points were rather simplistic. Not once did I elicit a guttural 'Ufff' as I am wont to do in the presence of exquisite haunches. For example, when I was in Spain I blacked out on several occasions and was reduced to purring like an engine from a muscle car for hours on end.

Actually the Best Bum Award had to go to this French Beauty I met my first night there and even then it wasn't really an Ufff Tushy, more like a Mmmm Tushy but she definitely knew how to work the hell out of it...on the dance floor people, minds out of the gutters thank you. Oh that's another thing, Londoners cannot dance. Nope, not a step. It's quite ridiculous how out of rhythm they are, lotsa angles, knee bending and elbows. They looked as if they were mannequins that just got electrocuted with juice and were trying to stop themselves from moving. Seriously my friend and I were in awe of their ineptitude. Of course this didn't extend to those of an ethnic descent per usual but man, unreal.

This has a lot to do with the fact that the British can drink themselves silly, I mean these cats are professional boozers which could explain their horrific boogie woogie moves. I myself am not a drinker at all, I'm essentially a teetotaler but I can recognize talent when I see it. Of course there are many casualties during the course of an evening and I don't remember the last time I saw so many inebriated people stumbling, collapsing and hurling their bangers and mash in such a concentrated area. I forget the exact name of the street but it was enormous, replete with Holiday lighting, centrally located and lined with somewhat upscale shops and yet you had the British version of the party scene at Jake's House in Sixteen Candles being re-enacted in plain view. If you so much as feel queasy in Beverly Hills you'll be tased, put in an orange jumpsuit and dropped in the middle of West Covina with a Carl's Jr. coupon before you can say I Love Axel Foley.

Here's how they excelled at such a high level of imbibing...they had a spectacular public busing system; no I'm serious. The tube shuts down at 12:30am, now at first I thought that sucked but once I found out that buses ran regularly, like every 10 minutes or so thru all hours of the night I
realized you had a cheaper version of cabs in New York. Knowing that you don't have to worry about driving yourself or anybody else home and that the Double Decks got yo back you're golden! You can stumble, puke, get embroiled in fisticuffs and poke a hole on the way to having Ralphie Boy carry you home.

Similarly cabs in Manhattan act as the same safety net yet are also foreplay on wheels. Granted this is a low frequency immature way of connecting with someone but go with me for a moment. Meet someone you like? Get them guzzling on some stiff ones for free made by your friend who tends bar, spin her around to mind numbing hip-hop for an hour while tactfully brushing up against prime erogenous zones and at 3 or so catapult her into a yellow sex toy that's lit up for on duty and next thing you know you're being chauffeured to wherever you wish while smooching in your private booth...brilliant huh? LA kills this whole process. Can you imagine if LA rocked it like this by implementing an aggressive bus schedule tricked out to seduce partiers to use their services to get around? No more Car Caravans, filthy parking rates, suspicious valets or having to leave with who you came with! Umm, hold on, phone...it's the Insurance Companies and LA Court System on a conference call...wow they're getting really testy with me, wonder why.

Yowza. This is one hell of a long blogpost, I surpassed the average American attention span way back at the words absolutely pathetic. I've posted the London pix along with captions for most on the DARPA sponsored Facebook utility for all the intelligence agencies to see so if you're not on my Government Database page add me so you too can be indicted for my future transgressions against the State.

I'll be back next week for the conclusion of London and the recap of my German escapade. Cheers!

Smear of Consciousness

2010-04-14T05:54:00.001-07:00

Cannot sleep because an entity is attempting to take over my body. Thought we were having earthquakes in LA again, nope, that would just be me. This has been going on for two weeks now but the past two nights have been extremely intense with the past three hours being the worst. It's 5:55 am, make that three and a half. I can feel it on me now. No I am not making this up nor am I insane. As silly as this sounds I thought I should blog or post this on my FB status as this was going down last night, that's how ingrained we have become to plaster the masses with every detail of our lives now, even as an inordinate amount of pressure is being exerted by an interdimensional malevolent entity upon my being to root me out of my very existence one of my thoughts is to wonder whether to squeeze this incident in under 160 characters or just free flow on my blog. This would be akin to me just having been shot and tweeting about the location of my bullet 'OMG, bullet just lodged in my trachea and I think I fractured my skull on the way down, gnarly'

I've had many attacks over the years and they all are different, this one by far has been one of the most physical and debilitating. Yeah weird I know, I can really only talk about this with maybe 3 or 4 people who truly understand it and deal with it themselves and maybe and extra 2 or 3 who are aware of what I go through but probably think I'm making it up. This is one of the few times where I've really felt endangered. I mean this thing has wrapped itself around me and on a couple of occasions incapacitated my muscles so that I'm literally fighting to regain control of my reflexes. It's always when I'm sleeping or just about to drift off, when I'm most vulnerable.

The worst episode happened a year or two ago where I was attacked through my dreams and lost all feeling of my body for close to 30 seconds. I was only conscious of myself in the center of my brain and had to resist with all my might to not be expelled. This was not a, hey I had an out of body experience, cool, this was a forced entry. That particular one was based on past life contracts but I have no idea what this one's about. Whatever it is it has no sense of humor and is relentless. It's this tractor beam, laser, vacuum, compression, like the cabin of a plane making its descent, and if I'm not thinking of it or foolishly wandering into a dream state where there might be a beautiful woman nearby, boom, I 'm suddenly aware of something right on top of me and I'm awake all over again.

I can't really believe I'm typing all this out, I'm groggy and out of sorts and have little access to my vast vocabulary and writing style, this is more of a smear of consciousness, a stream is too pretty, more like a brook that's dried up but glints with a trickle when the light hits it just right. Speaking of which, I'm starting to see some and am feeling like I've rid myself for the moment of this force of nature. It has pricked, pummeled, throttled and dizzied me for hours, I was looking for some action late at night but this wasn't what I had in mind, uh Universe, wrong order, send this one back por favor.

If I'm unable to handle this which is most assuredly the case at this point I have two lines of defense. I've gone to one who after some work had me feeling it was handled, clearly not. I have one last outlet who I'm sure can assist but it gets pricy. See, not really any healthcare that accounts for this is there? Don't think Blue Cross Blue Shield has a Voodoo option. Ah, even in dire straits I'm coming with the yuks. I even buzzed my nocturne marauder with some zingers calling its onslaught nothing more than an infirmed mosquito poking away with a crooked proboscis, with a few expletives thrown in for good measure.

Sigh...so much that can be said and expounded upon but I'm going to give rest another go. I trust I have not scared you off and if I have, well, then, didn't need a feeble one such as you in my diameter then did I?

I shall be fine, I'm a powerful lil' Warrior underneath the bright and poofy haircut ;)

Bubbling Lacunas

2010-03-13T01:35:00.000-08:00

I been rockin' the bottom to the under to the low to the neath
Holdin my breath lest I breathe the sweet inhale of the succulent cessation of self immolation
A cylindrical kaleidoscoped kazoo
Humming comin' at me...
Don't you know I had to be free?
A whale of a wail
A roar of an aurora streaking through celestial crosshairs
Filling in words on the cross I bare
Furrowing brows burrow acorns of consternation
Buried strands of my DNA glow commands
A hoarse code trilling adorable echoes to the edges
Chiseling, hammering the limestone beliefs from within the biology
My glorious heart a silver bullet to the monsters I've birthed into my mind
We both cringe from the inevitable battle
My Path pulses
Beats Drums
Stokes Fires
Radiates
Howls
Now

Begone Ye Buggers - Gamarti

2010-02-12T01:35:00.000-08:00

Gamarti.

Hebrew.

Means: I finished.

Phase three of four of this cleanse is in the books. Baby buggers have been vaporized. Now I wait three weeks and do the exact same process I just did for the past twelve days and then I am officially complete.

So how do I feel?

Well, I'll be honest, energetically I feel amazing and alive. Motivationally speaking, not so much which I find bizarre. I attribute some of this to it being so cold in Los Angeles the past week or so. Now granted it's nowhere near the apocalyptic blizzards of the east coast cold but relatively speaking it has been much chillier here and I do not function really well when my bones are cold It also precludes me from venturing out much as I like to stay bundled up in the confines of my home which is not at all conducive to mingling and advancing in my new found bugger-free self.

Today I also got my hair did with the greatest hairdresser on the planet, Mr. Michael over at Glow Salon in West Hollywood. How perfect is the name of his space? Anyway, on my way over I had been feeling like I wanted a new look but didn't want to say anything to him. Not that I feel that I couldn't have but something told me to keep quiet and see what happened.

Well, my hair was looking basically the same as it usually does after a cut and color and as Michael was styling it in its final stage before I was to leave he all of a sudden took a step back, paused, looked like he got hit with an inspiration and starting working my hair in a new way. When it was all said and done my hair was no longer in my face or dangling on the side of me but swept up over the side and to the top in this magnificent fashion so that my face is completely revealed, open and bright.

I am no longer partially hidden to the world, my visage is present for all to see.

I had thoughts of wanting to get the hair out from in front of my face for some time now and what synchronicity it is for it to happen on this day as I complete this part of clearing all that is not desired or needed in my Universe so that I may truly shine the way I have always meant to shine.

Steam is picking up on my desire to move as I see my new space, wherever it may be, manifesting as a culmination of this entire process so that I will be waking up to my new world in a new surrounding field of energy that I have created. There's not much out there right now as I'm being quite specific in the area and type of dwelling that I want to move into but I trust that something will pop into my lap and that I will know the moment that I walk into it that it is meant for me.

Quick lil' confession, I am feeling a bit despondent over the upcoming weekend and V-Day as I have no plans, invitations or activities scheduled at all for the next few days. It would be wonderful to whirl around with my new disposition and look out and about and I'm sure something will draw me out into the day or night but nevertheless, it still is a drop of despair stained onto my heart for now. Would love to have the detergent of a new excitement or being to wipe that blot clear off of me.

Everything is falling into place. I know I am loved and taken care of on so many levels. It's just that my past keeps cornering me every chance it gets and it's quite a challenge to dodge it's relentless attack at times, especially when there is no-one there to assist me but myself.

I am a Warrior.

I shall not fall neath its harrowing blade.

My impenetrable Destiny shields me from the blows of a fading dying belief.

My tender heart is not as vulnerable as it seems.

For in its tireless desire to allow beauty and pain into its deepest caverns it emboldens and strengthens my spirit through the repetition of compassion and gratitude.

I will stride confidently on my path.

Though my steps appear to be meek and shallow...

Every inch is matched by a conspiring Universe who beckons my Horizon closer to me.

And so it is.

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Ehad Esrei

2010-02-11T00:59:00.000-08:00

No rain in Sunny La La today but the day was abruptly washed away in a vice grip of pain located in my sinuses thereby rendering me useless and kvetchy.

On the heels of what was such a triumphant day yesterday to be so incapacitated by a throb that percolated all around my head was quite disconcerting. I feel that this was brought on not only by the last few days of this phase of my cleanse but by my pillows as well which I've been meaning to replace with new ones for a while, no I'm not going to expound on the idea of pillows for three paragraphs now, give me some credit. At any rate I'm in a crunch of ouch ouch right now.

I just finished watching Julie & Julia just now, very touching and extremely well done. Found so many themes, situations and anxieties of the characters to be paralleled and prevalent in my life at this moment which got me weepy often. I've said it before people, I will see your Chick Flick and raise you a house full of tissues and a cargo load full of cuddles and whimpers. Obviously with such a major aspect of the plot revolving around a blog it got me thinking about mine. I have no delusions of grandeur that these words are the inevitable turnkey for my success; I'm not doing this for that reason. Yet it did get me whipped up over the how and the what of what my creation will be that will deliver me to that next plateau. I have so many possibilities and yet no clue as to what natural step to take with them except to keep creating. Trusting in my divine path and surrendering is a mantra that is authentic some days and just lip service in others but I know it to be the hat I get to wear these days; until it's Baseball season of course :)

Oy, mi cabeza, noo bueno, mon dieu, mon tete, tres mal...

Aite, well, tomorrow is my last day on this second phase of the parasite cleanse. Before I sign off I'd like to address the elephant in my room in this blog. More specifically the Pink Elephant with the hearts, rainbows, roses and chocolates that's been prancing around my apartment the past few weeks. It somehow has caused no property damage but I would not be surprised to find out it was sitting on my face last night as I slept.

I've written about the origins of V-Day several times in my newsletters of the past delving into Lupercalia and the original intent of purification for this period of the year. While I'm all for uncovering the truth of all of our myths and customs I'm sure the underlying desire was to deconstruct a day that has been none too pleasant for me for my entire life. I'll do my best to not get too maudlin or self-effacing but I have only been with someone on this day once in my life. It was with my last girlfriend and that was thirteen years ago. Plus the only reason I actually was with her that day was because she knew how excited I was to be with her for the holiday so she postponed breaking up with me until 8 days after it. I know icky, but hey, I got the greatest one-man show out of my relationship with her. To this day I consider my show that ran in NYC once a week for a month 'Endorphin Machine' to be my greatest on-stage performance and most fulfilling experience as an artist. My Comedy Special is definitely a close second but...well, anyway...

Wow, there's a host of avenues I could travel down at this point and they're all lighting up for me, 'please pick me and write about this now'...nope, just gonna wipe you all away and come from this moment. I know I had an agenda coming into this post but I'm disavowing its steely claws. Perhaps this is a good thing that my head is clamping down on me, it's not giving me the chance to complete my woe-is-me mission.

Part of me wants to be bonked on the head so I'm unconscious for the next three days. Part of me wants to go out and spin around the city trusting that something magical is awaiting me. Part of me wants to stop attaching any meaning to all of this which is what I find myself to be leaning towards. I let every female go during this cleanse. I allowed a couple back in for a brief interlude the past couple of days and today they failed me miserably so I'm second guessing the letting down of my guard.

Above it all, I'm just weary and flabbergasted from the entire subject of love in my life. In the middle of typing this blog I stopped and just comically ranted for a solid fifteen minutes out loud which I jotted notes down on for a future bit; that was fun.

I've been singing The Rainbow Connection all day.

I am beyond fine. I am centered and grounded. It is my comfort zone to whine and play 'The Beautiful Ones' over and over. I get to find a new comfort. Awww, but it's such a great song...just can't have it my anthem anymore.

Okay, I need to lay down, it's 3am, I've been in front of this for two hours now.

So, iTunes, shuffle and provide me with a new anthem if you don't mind...

Radio by LL Cool J

LOL LMAO, okay Universe, you are funny aintcha?

Word. I'm a get my energetic kangol, take my shirt off, get some flashy pants and rock the m to the ic right about now.

I'm leader of the show keeping you with my flow and I know I can't live without my chocolate chip cookie-o...unnh!

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Eser

2010-02-10T01:50:00.000-08:00

Well I finally missed one.

Drat.

I had been faithful to my blogging during this entire process since the Internal Cleanse, not missing a single beat or a butterfly stroke on my jotjotboard but last night I purposefully neglected my spatter affair.

Twas mitigating circumstances! Trust me.

See, at around midnight it did begin to tell and the words on the other edge of the line demanded my presence at the court of fools philanderers and fops in robes...I was summoned for jury duty. What broke me out of my life as it was at that moment was that I was to be present and accounted for at 7:45 in the morn. I would call that the buttcrack of dawn but for one such as me that's too much of a crack, it's more of a low rising jean showing a little tush crescent crack of dawn; me of the 'go to bed round 2 or 3 wakey round 10 or 11' routine.

So once my bones were rattled of their impending weariness I shifted into mini-crisis mode which equates into me cleaning and putting everything in order. One might call it uber anal (and if one did I'd hope that one was a cutie with a booty) but when I know I have to be up super duper early be it for a shoot or trip or anything I immediately go about and get my home as spotless and tidied up as possible. Why? Because when I return I like to come back to my home in a state of calm and continuity where everything is as it should be. So no matter the chaos I experience in the world or how ragged beaten and battered I may be, the moment that my key makes it way to perform its menial duty I know the relief of returning to a space at its pristine condition awaits me like a doting butler with a towel draped over his forearm. There's nothing to be done but to toss objects aside and collapse into the familiar atoms of my creation.

So here I sit in my sparkling dwelling working on three hours sleep and twenty hours of being awake and my energy level is surprisingly still present to a degree with my mental clarity a bit dull but sharp enough to slice up a fruit salad. I attribute this state to my cleanse, without a doubt. I would have easily collapsed into a nap once arriving at home or hurried into the nooks of my mattress for good by now but I am still riding that wave of a mellow inferno begotten from the depths of my gut.

And u know I had many a bugger thrown out of my tubes today like a bad mime act soliciting commuters.

As for Jury Duty? Well, well, well...see that's another reason I felt confident in putting off one day, because I figured I would have so many stories and characters to relate back in this forum that I'd be writing for hours. Ah the mathematics of assumption possess such flawed formulas and algorithms yet we stubbornly use them as if the repetition will transform their basic mechanisms.

Honestly, I had one of the easiest and most delightful days that I could have ever imagined. Check this out, the drive there a breeze, parking at Disney Hall Downtown, simple, then a nice morning walk with a cute Latina on the way to the court and a seat all to myself and my computer with wifi access...wifi access in the court? My my my...yes apparently alternative information and gmail is okay but Facebook is blocked. I suppose no status updates of 'I bet my judges is going commando' or 'I just farted in the juror room' are allowed due to national security.

Next up orientation delivered by a pleasant and sincere girl and this hilarious brother, oh yeah, had me and the entire group cracking up...at 8:30 am with everyone pissed and tired. I mean this guy was delivering the info but in this sarcastic low dead pan with a touch of 'please don't act stupid like these other people', he killed. I know. I was so impressed. I mean could that be the toughest room ever? Jury Duty at 8:30? I would rather a room with a bunch of frothing at the mouth rugrats and their pmsing feminist Moms with Red Sox shirts on than Jury Duty. I actually had to ask if he was a comic and he said no but man, great set homie!

Time flew, I got these twinkling smiles and winks from this cute blonde all day long, lunch was delicious despite the walking in the rain which seemed to subside once I left the building. I managed to find a Starbucks and they had my fave Pumpkin Bread to sweeten my buds on the way back. When I finally got chosen to be on a panel I along with a huge chunk of heads went to the 13th floor for Dept. 122...oh c'mon, I mean, to those who know me and my numbers, as in which ones make my happy and confirm my alignment this pretty much on the nose; missing a 7 but damn...c'mon.

We all waited outside the courtroom for about twenty minutes and when we were finally called in and filed into our pews we were informed by the judge, a really cool brotha who actually had a great energy and humour about him, that the reason they were taking so long was because they had actually hammered out an agreement, we weren't needed, go back downstairs. We all cheered and when we got back to the room not more than five minutes later our Jury Comedian got on the speaker and mentioned that he was about to do something that he had never done before, he was releasing us all and completing our service at 3:30..another number. That was it.

If that's not a divine set of circumstances in what could've been an awful situation I don't know what is.

Here's what I have to say to you or all of you or whatever you you is reading this....it's never ever as bad as the thoughts you create in your mind.

Look, you probably don't know this but the LA Superior Court & I haven't really been buddy buddy at all, not in the least bit. This dates back to several years ago when I was battling them in Traffic Court. Yeah, see, not just contesting...BATTLING...like all hands on deck all special skill combat moves unlocked. I was fighting them on the validity, jurisdiction and constitutionality of their entire system, again, their entire system. I took it to the Court of Appeals and would have went to the Californian Supreme Court if not for my legal cohort running out of steam. Many people say F the System, well I wanted to brand it an adulterer of our rights for all to see instead.

Well that was then. So here I am today with my shift in full swing and my disposition a 180 from what it had been a month ago so it's probably a 540 or a 1220 from what it had been several years ago. As deeply happy as I have become, standing outside that courtroom was a challenge to say the least. Phrases, declarations and well woven thoughts were waltzing and clamoring for tango space in my mind. I was almost ready to stand up when questioned and relive my entire revolt all over again...but once inside and once I laid eyes on the judge that anger matrix slipped off of me like a slippery edamame shell.

What has repeatedly come up, especially in the last few weeks, is how any resistance or debilitating negative stories I may have over a person, situation or idea is nothing but a figment of my own design. The reality is always so much more pleasant and nothing that I've thought it to be. I've had some people come back into my life for a spell and the through line seems to be the discontent of current standing. If I may dispense some wisdom: Every episode that I look back on, even the most heart wrenching and panic ridden episodes always developed into exactly what I needed and fit into the overall tapestry of my life as its own perfect thread. Seen through opaque vision I have truly lived a charmed life with strings from my limbs attached to angels. So no matter where you are believe me that one day, should you find that grounded core of omniscient perception you too will see everything as divinely ordered.

The cap on the day? Once I finally settled in back home a rainbow shimmered over Los Angeles.

Wow, this is gonna be super sweet, saccharin mouth puckering sweet but I can't resist, especially at 3 in the morning on 21 hours straight wakey wakey time. Hit it Kermie!

Someday you'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The Lovers
The Dreamers
And Me
La La La La La La La La La La La La La La La

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Shmoneh

2010-02-08T01:18:00.000-08:00

I have been bristling with energy, vim and vigor all day and night long riding a steady wave of awakened direction.

I've had peaks and valleys with this cleanse for sure and there have been days when I've felt really empowered and organically fuel injected but it's never been quite like this where I've consistently been so alert, giddy for no apparent reason and active. What's even more impressive from this is that I'm working on very little sleep and food but I'm not in that loopy wacky state that you sometimes get in when you're sleep and meal deprived.

Wow...that was soo random and yet...see I trusted my gut and just went for it and ...wow, thank u God, cool...no something just happened and...no, no words yet, let it create itself magically words might scare the cement away.

So, yes, feeling groovy. I kept reading about this whole process and how people have experienced such astounding influxes of energy from it and while that has been the case to some degree this is really a surprising state of being that I've donned today. Not like I was a low energy type of cat, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I was desiring a way of being that kept me swift to respond to impulses while allowing for restful periods that were not mired in malaise or procrastination.

I believe my decision to find a new home has also really galvanized me to a great deal. I also came to a decision late late last night that I actually did solidify with words this evening to someone and that is also providing me an enormous sense of relief and forward motion: I am letting go of my Comedy Special.

Strange writing that but I know it to be a truthful reconciliation with my current self, that Special is not a reflection of who I am anymore. I understand the process that artists all go through and the lag that occurrs between the inspiration of a project to the deliverance of it to an audience but I feel that this has run its course at least in its current incarnation.

Joni sang about not knowing what you got until it's gone well there's also not knowing that what you thought you wanted is not what you want but thank God that you got it. I had a wonderful conversation with a beautiful female tonight and she was talking about how she was evolving but that while she was doing that the projects and work she was involved in was not catching up to her. I countered that the work and the projects were all there to assist her in her growth and if not for them she wouldn't be as far along as she should be and that really crystallized for me where I am in regards to 'The Legend of Issac Bright: Verbal Warrior'.

The DVD was released in June of 2009, the Screening happened in September of 2008, we taped segments throughout 2007 and 2008 and shot the live show in October of 2006 which included material I had been working on from the beginning of that year. So we're talking over four years ago, that's like I've just graduated and you're telling me I'm the same Comic that I was when I was a Freshman? I gone through so much in my own internal journey since then, at times it feels like I'm watching a different person.

Look the stuff is funny and I'm deeply proud of my work but it just seemed that every step along the way was fraught with peril and even when it was finally freed of its chains it never got its wheels underneath it to deliver it to a wide audience. Honestly, if you include the screening, I believe about 250 people have seen it up until this point, maybe a bit more, that's not what you call a nationwide release, more like saying I got all of Aroma Cafe to watch my movie at 1am on a Saturday and the Israelis handed out free hummus to everyone instead of popcorn.

One of the final straws was when I submitted the title to the IMDB and they got back to me saying there wasn't enough info to have it considered even though I filled out quite a bit and there was a damn link there to confirm the actual project, yeesh. When I gave it away for free I got very little response back as well. I'm sure people enjoy it but I'm not getting a twinkle of energy back which would add to the circle of generating more buzz for this project.

I just feel by letting this go, with so much else that I've let go during this journey, I'm allowing for a new powerful piece to coalesce from everything I have to that which hasn't come to me yet. I'm not saying I'm killing the Special but putting it on the shelf. I am so blessed I was able to create this and learned sooooo much from the entire process but now it's really time to move on.

You know what it is, this DVD of mine is like Prince's Dirty Mind/Controversy albums. Not a lot of peeps had them but once 1999 and then Purple Rain blew up everyone went back and snatched those up. That's gonna be what happens to this DVD.

So I'm working on my 1999 opus which will surely blow the doors open enough to step into my inevitable Purple Rain Super Nova.

How? I have no idea. Exactly how I want it.

iTunes! Shuffle and Hit me!

Setting Sun by the Chemical Brothers

Oh absolutely. Lights out and then Lights Up Up and Away...

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Sheva

2010-02-07T00:48:00.001-08:00

Oy.

So if you've already been to my Facebook page today u know what has transpired this past early morn. If you haven't lemme fill u in.

At five in the morning just several hours after I signed off of my last poetic post, a post that literally appeared out of nowhere for my fingers for which I am deeply grateful, I was awoken by the sound of someone urinating a couple of feet from my bed.

I had trouble sleeping up until this point for some reason which is bizarre since I usually have the most tranquil rest when it's raining out. Actually, I do know the reason as to why I was tossing and turning so much but, yeah, maybe I'll get into that later.

So, yes, peeing, really? That's kinda different, a first, thoughts that gleamed on the head of a pin on my mind for a nanosecond went something like "ummm, what the...is someone peeing...am I outside, what's...man this person must hate my act, el perro, I still have that magic white powder that gets out all stains so that's cool..."

Okay, eyes wide squinty thrust up releasing the anaconda grip on my poor abused pillow, that's not a gutter outside, definitely, definitely inside on a Saturday, Saturday early, it's early on a Saturday, yeah, no cartoons on a Saturday they're all weird anime from Japan, definitely not anime, yeah, it's inside, yeah, Bugs Bunny funny, yeah on a Saturday...

That's Rainman for all you slow on the uptake, thank you thank you I'll be here all week please tip your waitresses and slap your valets on the ass, thank you thank you. Well, Rainman was apropos since it was pouring oceans and dinosaurs outside last night and the pissing was not from a person but from my ceiling; it had sprung a leak...actually two.

In my ten plus years of living in this apartment throughout many a storm and deluge never have I experienced something like this. I don't live on the top floor people, my ceiling should not be peeing and no it's not a toilet or tub overflow from upstairs as my bed area is far removed from them. There were two thin streams that were spritzing from these lil' holes in a steel...uh, how do I explain this, not really adept at describing fixtures and such. Uh, so I have vertical blinds that are in the apartment, I know, weird, and they block off this den/area from the rest of the...oh what the hell do u care! I had two frikkin' water jets creating a lake in my bedroom! Arggh! What!?!

Not only that but another part of the ceiling was dripping, not as strong but in a Chinese Water Torture sort of way, perhaps to punish me for the sin of approaching so many Asian women and for subsequently ridiculing them in my act?

Needless to say I was perplexed as to what to do about all of this. I am not handyman inclined. I am not the Fix It Home Depot Man. I have had dripping water faucets in both of my bathrooms for months and my approach to dealing with them is to tighten the knobs as much as I can and when that doesn't work I just close the doors on them. If something conks out on me my attitude is basically 'Oh well, guess I won't be using that anymore'. If it gets really bad I go to the landlord with the service slip but that's rare for me. I am a bit spoiled. I never do my laundry and I haven't in almost twenty years. That's for the cute Korean and Latina ladies on my corner strip mall to do. Oh c'mon, u drop it off in the afternoon and later that day it's all hot and folded and ready to be popped into a drawer, why wouldn't I do that? I realize I am going to be a handful and a headache for my future wife with my negligence and ignorance of home duties but obviously I'll be making it up to her in soooo many other ways ;)

So I've got these streams and drips invading my world and all I'm really equipped to do is to start performing some of my act to them, debating the nature of reality and our global system of governance with them or asking them for their phone number or facebook name so that I could complain about them later, "I cannot believe those two streams did not return my calls or my texts, why did they add me on FB and give me their cards? Screw water elements I'm only hitting on fire from now on."

Realizing that the puddle on my carpet was not getting any smaller I sprang to action and...uh, what to do? Well the obvious thing of course! I went and got my plants and put them under the leaks! Might as well get them watered and happy, at least something positive can be gleaned from this situation. Not like my carpet needs the soak. Went and got some dirty towels to sop up the drenched fibers round my greenies and then went to work on the leaks.

Oh yeah baby, these things didn't stand a chance against yours truly. I was armed to the teeth with all sorts of doo-dads and doo-hickeys, a power whatsamacallit and self propelled frickinafrack. Okay. Maybe not. I had a roll of masking tape. Well my fingers weren't working with the whole plug the dyke up with your thumb imagery so I figured I'll just tape them up, it's the American way of doing things! Country going to shite? Put a shiny Sesame Street band-aid on her and call her a Bail Out! Woo Hoo!

Well the tape wasn't workin' that well as it seemed to be diverting the streams elsewhere. My response to their ineffectiveness was revolutionary to say the least...I put other pieces of tape on them instead! America America God Shed his Bathrobe on Thee! Eventually they just died down after forty five minutes or so. Why? I have no idea, clearly it was nothing I had done. It was weird because the rain had not let up outside and I didn't hear any neighbor sounds upstairs. There was no logical reason for the ceasing of the internal aquaworks. Above all else it was a blistering sign from the Universe telling me that...It's Time to Move!!!!

All nudges I've been getting recently from various moments and coincidences here and there have been all about me getting a new space for myself to coincide with this intense cleansing process that I have been going through for the past month and am still going through. I did the calculation and the third and final phase of my last parasite cleanse (I'm on the second one now) would have me done for good about March 15th. How perfect would it be if on that day I'm also moving into my new home? It's almost as if it's meant to be.

I signed up for Westside Rentals today and am on my way to creating a new sanctuary for myself and my new life. If I am truly releasing all that is no longer in alignment with who and what I am and in service to who I am to become then surely this space I am in has served its purpose and needs to be flushed away along with everything else that I've rid myself of.

Alas, the rest of the day was a complete wash out no pun intended. So groggy and discombobulated from the lack of good sleep that I was rendered useless. But no matter.

Major Major Step. Noah ain't got sh*t on me.

Last thing, when I was searching for an image to add to this post I entered the search term 'drip drip' into Google images and on the first page of results is a picture of Lady Gaga. Gotta luv it :)

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Shesh

2010-02-06T00:41:00.000-08:00

Precipitation, the sky wringing out its laundry
A percussive staccato on pavement, metal and flesh
Filling divets and obtuse angles to the rim
While kicking out new droplets to flow and find another void to fill
There are vacancies within me
Wakened hollows that will be engulfed into my new consummation
Coltrane's Spiritual swims breath strokes into the space between
Shielding my ears and heart from pessimistic forecasts being bellowed through the ether
Notes wrap themselves around me like ivy
Ripples of sound spin atoms so persistently they are forced to reveal themselves
I am swept up into the stream of my own consciousness
Spawning new thought forms
Birthing a propitious combination of the one and the whole
To flow
The electricity of connectivity
To conduct one's symphony while playing it
Spit out from the Heavens of all to find the Heaven of none
I've drizzled dripped and been drained
Thundered across landscapes
Now the eloquence of hushed resonance ferries me on my way
From sea to shining me

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Hamesh

2010-02-05T02:17:00.000-08:00

Man I gotta stop starting these things so late, it's 2:20am already, how'd that happen?!?

Well anyway, a beautiful spontaneous evening found its way into my life tonight. This dovetailed perfectly with me existing in a perfect state of health the entire day. No ickiness or congestion, slept a lil' later and longer than usual but once up was a model of feeling groovy.

The buggers are starting to come out of me, just like I figured, my descent into blecchy land was a result of them giving me one last hurrah of 'You can't kick us out, we live here!' Well, y'all had your three day notice and now I'm evicting your buggery cell structures. Yup, back to where I was at the end of the Internal Cleanse, happy and just laughing out loud for no reason at all. Can't say if this is going to last or if I'm due for some more excruciatingly painful and soul shattering experiences but at this moment I'm just strollin'.

Ah, yes, back to my spontaneous evening. Well, I was all set to kick it by my onesies and get down to watch 'The Hangover' which has been sitting next to my sexy new telebishzion but I got a call round six thoytee from my boy Shawn who told me about this event that he was going to tonight. After some web addresses and finger clicking I was down, a talk by some cat on Sacred Geometry at this cool Downtown spot, count me in, draw me up and plop me down baby.

Shawnie's an Energy guy like me so we have a great shorthand and understanding of how beings like us truly work so it's always cool to connect to that when I get a chance. So when he says he felt like he needed to call me I immediately can tune in and realize that it's someplace that I needed to be at although it turned out to be for something I totally was not expecting :)

So we zip on down there in no time during rush hour traffic which is always a good sign, get the spot, glide on in with no rezzies and find the perfect seats to nestle our bums in; mine was this large stately leather contraption out of a Wall Street waiting room which me and my 120 lbs took up half of. They had free healthy eats which were exactly what I needed in my tummy and some delish raw chocolate bar pieces and...okay getting too descriptive let's cut to the chase.

So the dude who was giving the talk was this cat named Johnathan Quintin, you can check out his work here. It was a really great spiel on Sacred Geometry, he really broke it down and delivered it in a way that facilitated its purest concepts and applications in the simplest and concise ways. There could be no debate as to the power and intrinsic connection that they have to us and all things and beings that inhabit the Universe. He had a great presentation with the whole megillah, cool 3D shapes and designs and examples, highly recommend checking him and his work out if you're looking to get a primer on Sacred Geo.

Problem for me, well not really a problem, but, well, see, everything he spoke about I already knew of. There wasn't anything new that I learned or was made aware of. I've been hip to this stuff for years and consider myself pretty well read on the subject but I'm by far the exception not the rule and I was really delighted to see such a large audience open to this information and that he was so adept at delivering the precepts of this work in such a palatable and exciting way. I suppose I was hoping for some way way out there new shight but alas it was not to be. So why'd I have to be there?

Rewind to last week. I went to an event that shall not be named held by someone who shall remain nameless that drove me bonkers and really got me irate. Let's see how shall I put this? Well, let's just say that it was one of those things where a small group of people was being given information by someone and then out of nowhere this someone diverted the train onto the wacky new-age hippy omm shanti shanti conscious doo wacka doo railroad. Now, I like that railroad sometimes but only when it's grounded or being helmed by one who has the responsibility to lead such an escape; this was not one of these times.

Now I've had this happen before but why this time irked me more than other times was because there was this cat there who had no connection to this kind of stuff. In Potterspeak and I am not at all a Potterite but you get the idea, in Potterspeak he was a Muggle. A big poppa Muggle in Muggle Garb thinking his Muggle thoughts. Now the conductor of the wacky ride did not acknowledge this Muggle and his 'WTF' thoughts and behavior and that's what got me peeved.

See, look, if you're going to do this wackalacakdooda thing, you must bring it to everyone, accent on every. They must not feel excluded or on the periphery. It's easy to get the Raw Foodist, Yoga Cat, Shaman or Free Lovin Topanga Babe who thinks she's an Indian Princess in another dimension into wackadoodoo land but if the Muggle don't get it then you're being highly irresponsible aaaand you're confirming within the Muggle how wacky people like me or whomever are.

I had a long chat with someone who I deeply respect who is a maestro of Energy and consciousness and she put it very succinctly that it's time for me to get out there and ingratiate myself into this whole world so that my energy can direct in a way that will get it grounded and accessible to those who would normally not be open to such wackadoowacka thingies. The event I went to tonight was the complete opposite, very grounded, high frequency, great great vibe.

At any rate, my chat with the Maestro ended when she mentioned some spaces, events and people that I needed to get talking to in order to get my gift of gab and comedy skills out there.

Well guess who sits right next to me at the event I went to tonight? Uh huh, one of those people. One who was giving me their card at the end not the other way around. I actually know this person from many many years ago and we've bumped into each other here and there but this time it clicked and finally made sense why I know this person.

So there ya have it, cue the Police Synchronicity or something like that right?

Well, let's let the iTunes do it. iTunes! Shuffle and make synchronous magic...

Super Galactic Lover by Kool Keith.

Ohhhhh You Betcha!

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Arbaa

2010-02-04T00:59:00.000-08:00

I've been a long time Beastie Boy fan.

I've been down with them from the get-go, from the 'She's on it' days to their cameo in Krush Groove to the audio-cassette punk bootlegs including their famous Cookie Puss track, 'Hey yo Cookie Puss, ey yo I'll house u boy'.

I've done Lip Synch contests to their songs in High School and almost got suspended one year for tossing beer cans into the crowd during a performance which is quite ironic seeing as how I never drank beer at all but rather was embodying the role of King Adrock to the fullest.

My proudest Beastie moment came when I was playing pick-up hoops in the lower east side and by happenstance ended up in a game with MCA aka Adam Yauch who was waaayyy skinnier in person. He wasn't on my squad but I was so pumped to be in the same game as him that I had one of the greatest games of my life until I fractured my elbow. Yup, at one point I jumped so high for a rebound that there was a split second where time stopped and I looked down and noticed how high I had risen which triggered the Wile E. Coyote principle of never looking down when you're walking on thin air. Once I looked down I plummeted to the pavement not knowing how to land since I had never gotten up so high.

Anyway, why I bring this up is that I'm in a lot of pain right now, sinuses are tormenting me and I'm not in the brightest of moods due to this cleanse now kicking in full gear. I wanted to stay faithful to my blogging and then it hit me, just throw out a mish-mosh of stuff and don't worry about being specific about anything. This is in turn unearthed the 'bouillabaisse' word into my consciousness which reminded me of the Beastie Bouillabaisse track on one of their greatest albums ever made 'Paul's Boutique'. It was also a mish mosh mash-up of random beats and rhymes that put a perfect coda on a revolutionary album.

So, I gots me some bouillabaisse 4 ya.

Was at this undeground comedy show Downtown tonight, did not perform, my loveliest of lovely friends Serenee Panini hipped me to this gig that happens at this new Barber shop of all places. I'm glad I didn't perform. Not trying to be involved in inkling shows, as in 'I had an inkling of an idea to just throw together something in this random spot, let's just put a mic here and see what happens'.

One of the comedians did something I never saw done before. He put paper hand-outs on all of the seats which consisted of several pages. Each page had lists on them and each list was a topic, they were broken down into jokes, songs, philosophies and some other categories that I can't remember. Essentially he called himself the first and only 'Interactive Comedian' as his act was based on the audience picking jokes and stuff from his hand-out. We would call them out and he would do them.

I know.

I got a little annoyed because everyone was yelling topics out and when there was a lull I finally decided to pick one and chose 'face and ass' (duh, of course) and of all the ones picked apparently mine was 'oh why'd you pick that one, that's not a good one'. Really dude? Like I'm supposed to know that? Like eye-poppers such as 'Middle Eastern Motel' and 'AA Virgin' should have jumped off the page to me?

I'll give the dude credit for being able to rock his material like a jukebox but all I kept thinking was what I always think when I see shtick like this, the classis Jimi Hendrix line from his Dick Cavett interview 'Gimmicks man, gimmicks, everybody wants gimmicks'.

I got a lovely Om Wind Chime for my way belated B-Day present from Panini tonight, gosh, have not seen her in three months crazy. I love my chime, everytime it rang while I was carrying it or while I was in the ride home it made me smile and giggle.

Thinking I'm gonna set out to do my comedy sets without any cursing to see if I can do it. I'm noticing that all Comedians these days are raunchy and swearing like crotchety old sailors. Seems to me that the revolutionary way of delivering your jokes now is to be devoid of any curses!

I can't bring myself to curse in my writing anymore which I find to be quite amazing. I think one of the reasons why my Comedy Special DVD never took off is because of the language I used; ya know, like I'm smarter than that. Now, let's get something straight, I plan on continuing to speak on topics that could be considered 'dirty' but I'm going to do it in a clever enough way where I won't have to use a single curse word. I've noticed how my language has been changing this past year. I cannot bring myself to say the word 'B#$ch' anymore, can't do it; it stings my lips. Interesting to see how my act evolves going forward with this new sensibility.

This topic was breached in my jaunt this afternoon over to my new fave Vegan spot 'Elderberries'. When I walked in there was the owner Dotti, Jorge the new bad-ass cook and this cat Shmuel who happened to be a Rabbi. Uh huh, of all the times I gotta walk in this spot I gotta pick the time when an Oy Yoy Yoy is there. We had a real pleasant convo, he actually took my number to invite me to a Shabbat dinner at his Chabad center which I found amusing. The cat actually quizzed me on my Bar-Mitzvah chops, mofo! I had to throw down some tropes and Barchu et Adonai Hamvorachs on his ayass to pipe him down.

Here's where I got kinda twitchy and had to purse my lips from saying anything. So this elderly chick shows up as I was about to leave with my lunch. Dotti introduces her to me and then Rebbe Shmooey and as the elderly woman extends her hand Dotti jumps in and says how Shmooey can't shake her hand cuz he's a Rabbi. In fact Shmooey can't shake anybody's hands. I really don't remember this being part of the gazillion rules in Judaism although I'm sure it's valid. Regardless, this pisses me off.

Really Shmooey? I can't shake your hands cuz you're holy? This is what's inherently wrong with the major trifecta of deity disciplines, the elevation of the mediator between the almighty light and the rabble who genuflect at his or her lofty status. Oy. Vey. Is it okay for me to block your shot in a game of hoops or steal the ball from you or if I steal the ball from you am I stealing the ball from Yahweh who will in turn shrivel up my nuts and curse me with not being able to enjoy coconut macaroons for the rest of my days?

My tea came yesterday and my taste buds are taking over for my genitalia in the orgasm department! My favorite tea in the whole world, Keemum Hao Ya A. Chinese tea. Black. I get it from Mad Hat Tea Company in Tacoma, WA. Their tea leaves are like illicit drugs they're so good. Not that I would know what an illicit drug is since I've never had one but I can imagine if you're into that sort of thing I made a reference you can relate to.

Dreading V-Day, sigh, bonk me on the head next Friday and wake me up when it's all over. No, not getting into that now.

I also got Coraline on Blue Ray in the mail today, yay! Hold on, why do Blue Ray discs have to come in packages that are smaller than DVDs? It's my first Blue Ray and it sticks out like a Stripper in an Women's Orthodox Jew Brisket Bake Off. Frikkin' marketers, making my DVDs feel inadequate for their bloated size, not fallin' for it Morty!

Guys, don't text me, call me, I'm a man not a cutesy babe. Don't succumb to this feeble mode of communication. I understand it's a necessary evil with the chicas but with me, just pick up the damn phone and punch my number in for Christmas sake!

Today was Cupcake day! I got a sinfully yummy Vegan one at Elderberries and when I saw Panini there was this new Cupcake spot on Main Street that we hit after Vietnamese. I got a lil' mini one which cost a buck and it was delish. I wish they had a mini Lemon one which sounded uber lip-smackingly good but they were out. However, at the surreal comedy gig they had cupcakes from the same spot as payment for the comedians and after Panini commented on them during one of the MC's interludes she was rewarded by being allowed to have one! So she gave it to me and it was a lemon one! Yum Yum for Me Me. Sitting in my fridge to join forces with my tantric sex tea tomorrow.

Yeah, something going on with the Jew thing, definitely attracting that vibe right now. For example, I'm not sure why but I felt compelled to have Hebrew in the titles of my blogs for this parasite cleanse. Mmm hmm, instead of typing Day One etc. in English I've been typing it translated into Hebrew.

I have a feeling I'm on a collision course to marry a Jewish woman despite my resistance to it. Just a feeling.

Wish my Knicks didn't suck, no fun :(

I saw a guest house for rent this past week. I got reallllly excited at the prospect of moving and thought that this was going to be the one from my friend had told me about it. Turned out to be a real buzzkill, but...now I'm all jazzed and aware of moving. I want to move to the general area where this spot was, south of Melrose between La Brea and Fairfax. I know, pricy but putting it out there. I've always wanted to live in that area. I trust something is going to develop and pop into my space.

I'm cleansing. It's been a real challenge and I am acknowledging to myself that I am doing a wonderful thing for my body, my mind and my spirit.

iTunes, what say you?

Tango by Angel Romero

Ahhh, a lil' Spanish guitar to twirl my feet in a tizzy as I make my way to brush my choppers.

Loves it.

Ciao.

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Shalosh

2010-02-03T00:04:00.000-08:00

I woke up and slipped down a slicked up slide to the familiar locale of ickinessville today.

Tore up. Simply tore up; achy, sinusy, head clampy, shivery, coughy, woozy with a dash of waa waa waa. Didn't think I'd get hit in the three day prep but apparently I did. I'm guessing that the toxin absorber packets rustled up some extra funky toxins in me that jumbled around my system looking for an exit sign.

Not to be too graphic and vile but I was on the can quite a bit today which again is weird because I wouldn't have thought that I would have received such a strong reaction from what little I was doing. Man, can't imagine what it's gonna be like when I get going on the real stuff although who knows, maybe it'll be smooth sailing once the buggers start zipping out of me. This might be their last hurrah like a crazy ex breaking all your shight and then threatening to slice up your next chica. There I go again, talking about a crazy ex when I've never had one to begin with...sigh.

I'm feeling like I'm rolling down the mountain now so it's good to know that I got over it for the day and will have a restful sleep.

I'm a bit perturbed because I was all looking forward to hitting the Improv's Open Mic today for the first time in a while. I know, one could make a strong case that my body or an aspect of myself was sabotaging myself physically so I could avoid the experience. I'd grant you that's an enormous possibility as to why I got sick today. I'm not so sure that's really it though.

What it did do was make me honestly address my entire relationship to my Comedy as I've been wont to do over the past month. Suffice it to say I'm truly confused as to what direction I want to move in when it comes to me expressing that discipline of my art. Part of me feels like I've done everything I could have done to succeed and part of me feels like I've never given every ounce of my being to the craft; it's probably somewhere in the middle.

What confounds me now is how to integrate myself back into the world where I can feel rooted in what I want to say while also feeling rewarded by my work. What came up today was how I could most certainly just take any microphone I can get my hands on and work my stuff, heal as many people as I can with the laughter and just go with where the wind takes me. Yet I feel there is folly in that pursuit. I've done that to an extent. In fact when people ask me where I perform my standard response is 'wherever I get a mic'. Believe you me, I have performed in some wacky makeshift spots to say the least. From canning stations to barbershops to basements to backyards to every possible type of bar/restaurant/night club arrangement I've done them all.

What I also connected to today is how my approach to my comedy has mirrored my approach to women in the past six or seven years. I've just about approached them all, no matter if they were right or wrong for me if you had something that excited or intrigued me I was on you and gaming you, collecting digits like I used to collect baseball cards when I was a kid. I've not dated nor slept with many females, but I have accumulated enough useless numbers to satisfy me for a couple of lifetimes. Alongside that egotistical technique ran my Comedy career, hopping on stage to glaring stage whenever the opportunity presented itself. I didn't do hundreds of shows, not at all, but I sure as hell said yes to some spaces that I should have said no to and walked away from some spaces that I should have continued a relationship with.

So here's where I'm at at this moment. I'm ready for the stability, in a woman and in my career. What I deeply desire is that home base. A place that I can go to on a regular basis and ply my craft, work my bits and experiment with my style. As corny as this sounds but I wanna rock it like 'Cheers' where everybody knows my name. I had this once for a fleeting moment when I was doing Comedy in NYC. I had passed the New York Comedy Club and had become a regular there and hit their stage for a coupla months straight until a disastrous set shook me so hard that I stopped performing for a couple of years. I'd rather not relive the details here with you but let's just say it was a silence and a hatred that I had never experienced in my life and it seriously traumatized me.

I'm open to doing some wacky and random gigs to get my juices flowing and to get myself out there again but I've narrowed my focus and zeroed in on my ideal relationship...

I am going to be a regular at The Improv.

I don't know how I'm going to do it but this idea has been a glint in my mind for a while now and lately it's luminance has been growing. I've gone to their open mics three times now and have not been chosen in their lottery system to get time onstage which is baffling to me. What I believe is going on is that I have to erase the resentment of basically starting from scratch all over again. I have to consider every comedian in my midst as a peer and equal and not anyone who is higher or below me. I have to honor myself and the process and be prepared to commit to it fully rather than just dipping my toes in the water and assuming that I'll be elevated simply by being there.

The first day that I went there the building said to me 'Well it's about time you showed up'.

No joke. Don't care if you call me crazy.

So I know I'm supposed to be there in some capacity. Maybe it's not the way that I think it's supposed to be but I'm clear that I have to go for it and do it from a place of joy rather than entitlement.

So I'm stating my claim to you and the Universe. Should you know anyone feel free to let me know. I will take the risk of falling flat on my face over and over again. I will dust myself off and dive back in. I feel like I've been playing around with all these other spaces and now it's time to invest in a real rewarding relationship with a stage in this town; yes, it's time.

Yeah, this is the one. The Comedy Store, nope, been there done that, dark energy, inmates running the asylum, not interested. Laugh Factory, nope, stage is weird, a controlling energy there, too unconventional a space, never vibed with the cats that run it, plus it's a Dane Cook spot, yeah triple nope on that. The Improv, classic, classy, open, new and traditional...lemme in!

Wow, feels really good to have gotten that out.

Okay so my internet connection just conked out, first time all day. Why now? Is it because I'm not supposed to put this out there? Am I stating the wrong goal? Or am I shutting down the connection energetically because of my fear? Hey, you say it's a coincidence I say nothing is a coincidence, nothing. Every moment has meaning. Every moment is giving you information and the closer you are to yourself and to your ability to truly affect the Universe in the most powerful ways the more you will understand how the world is guiding you on your path.

Last thing before I go. I Netflix'd 'The Road Home' directed by Yimou Zhang tonight...oh my...bawling like a baby the whole way through. 5 stars. So touching.

To have a woman love you like that from the moment she lays eyes on you.

From that flash of a moment.

To just know, it's you, forever.

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Shtayim

2010-02-02T00:40:00.000-08:00

Shnuurrrrrrrrfly!

Uccchhhh, so shnurfly today, major congestion, not sure where this came from. I'm just prepping so I shouldn't be having any detox symptoms yet. Perhaps I'm aware on a different level of what I'm about to do and it's causing me to get all stopped up.

Makes sense. You know when you work on yourself energetically and you're pulling out your cords what most people forget to do is to go in and get the roots; that's where all the good icky stuff is. If you're just slicing your cords then you're really doing nothing, it's like weeds, they will grow back out or into you. You gotta dig in and remove the gunk or whatever it might be and then heal yourself up with love, put up some prot...

Yeah, just realized almost all of you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.

Well, think of it this way. It's like breaking up with someone but one of you leaves something in the other person's space which will enable them to have to retrieve it at some point. A lot of times this is an inescapable result of a break-up but most times it...

Wait a minute. What the hell am I doing? How can I be talking about breaking up with someone? I've never broken up with anyone! Ever! I have absolutely no authority on the subject whatsoever. I might as well be relaying a story about my Jai Alai exploits or how riding Kangaroos really isn't that bad on your groin.

I mean, I haven't had many relationships or dated many people but in all instances I was the dumpee, pretty sure, lemme check...

Hard drive is spinning...

Yup. Wow. I've never broken up with anyone. Is that normal? Well hold on, my first had to return to Spain so that doesn't count, does it? I mean I suppose she could've stayed but that wasn't really an option at all so...hmmm. I don't really break up with people they just kind of drift away or ignore me. Now on deeper levels I know that I'm constantly ridding people from my system and field who are not in alignment with my frequency so perhaps I'm excelling at a different way of breaking up with people but that's another conversation.

Plus they say that a major heartbreak is an amazing way for art to be inspired and I can definitely vouch for that. Some of my most passionate pieces have come from that space. So maybe, yeah kinda figuring this all out right now, so maybe on other levels I'm just asking for it, on a deep resonance from my core asking for the rejection so I can go and create from that emotion; in essence that vibration is overriding the vibe for requited love. Hmmm...

I do remember a very specific instance where I had to kick a person out of my life, my goodness she drove me crazy, platonic friend no romantic physical connection at all. Man this was years ago in New York. I remember we were making plans to go and eat and the process of just deciding where to eat took forever. We literally were arguing over who had to travel farther to meet up and we ended up calculating the specific amount of blocks or subway stops to the restaurants we were deciding on. We somehow agreed on this little hole in the wall Indian spot in the West Village which ended up sucking on many levels. I remember my dish was quite expensive and it was one of those nouveau cuisine type things where they put a little pile of food in the middle of your plate and then sprayed these thin random streaks of sauce all around it. I'm not trying to play Jenga with my dinner Sandeep, I'd rather have a toppled meal of bigger portions namean?

Anyway, miraculously we made it through dinner and of course once we exited the establishment it had begun to rain profusely. Her stop was in the opposite direction of mine but I felt compelled to walk her to her stop, I am above and beyond anything a true gentleman at heart no matter the circumstances. I had a tiny umbrella which I lent her during the walk to her stop, it was the A train, hate the A train stops or blue line, they're always so frikkin' far it seems. By the time I said goodbye I was soaked, why didn't I just huddle under the umbrella with her you might ask? Because I'm a stubborn Jew martyr type who would rather you feel guilty about making me suffer than the other way around, life's more fun that way!

I got home drenched, shnurfly like I am right now, annoyed and exasperated at this nutto's behavior questioning why I maintained such an irritable person in my life, I mean it's not like I was gettin' any or wanted to get any. Here was the kicker that catapulted me off the ledge. This took place on a Saturday night. The following morning, Sunday morning, Sunday no Football on in the morning, Sunday Issac no wakey no likey mornings to begin with morning, she calls around nine thirty (the ringing was like an enema to my ears at that time of the day) and leaves a message on my answering machine, this was before cell phones, and she calmly stated how disappointed she was that I didn't call to see if she got home all right...uhhh, u have got to be f7%&!in kidding me. Needless to say I got a solid ten minute act out of that experience and weeks later spit blood from the stage during this particular set to which my roomie at the time Mr. Scuba approached me after and mentioned how he was glad to see that I exorcised the demons of this hairy armed Jew chick. That's right! She was Jewish! See! Now it makes all the sense in the world, two stubborn kvetchy Jews do not mix although if that were the case there would be no Jews on the face of the earth so I take that back.

Not sure why I just blurted all of that out.

Roots.

This is what I'm about to get down to. The roots of these buggers. I lopped off the trunks.

Can't just stop at the branches, gotta yank out the lil' veins too, with love. It's honestly making me a lil' nervous, I mean, there can be all kinds of deep seated stuff caught up in these baby buggers especially with the void they'll be vacating. We shall see.

iTunes! Take us out on a perfect track to sum up this post as you usually do. Random song generator and...

Compulsion by Miles Davis.

Nuff said.

Begone Ye Buggers - Yom Ehad

2010-02-01T00:49:00.000-08:00

I'm back!

Miss me? I missed me. I missed my me doing this for myself although I was happy to float away for a bit from the qwertyuiop interface the higher aspect of my me-ness knew that my solar escape from this finger waltz was short-lived.

Ahhhh, Coltrane's India is playing in the background and I am a happy Earth Camper.

So, to recap this is the second part of my parasite cleanse. I did the colon cleanse end of December, marvelous, glorious, stupendous, wow. Finished the three week Internal Cleanse a week ago, cathartic, painful, dizzying, life affirming, soul wringing...and now since I had lil' buggers in me I'm going back in to evict the lil' baby buggers out of my system.

Begone ye buggers!

So what have I been up to the past week you might ask, if there even is a you. Well, hmmm, nadamooch really.

I feel like, you know that scene in The Matrix after Neo has taken the pill and is plugged back in with Morpheus. They then materialize onto a blank white screen as Morpheus begins to educate Neo about the Matrix? God, Coltrane is just burning my apartment down.

Anyway, that's what I feel like. I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a blank white screen with the ability to call up anything I want out of the blue but I have no idea what to call up so I'm just standing in the middle of all possibility, just enjoying the feeling of being where I am without the need of having to do much of anything. No worries, it's not that I'm being lazy or apathetic rather accumulating the energy, radiance and clarity to move forward with a purpose as I never have before.

It is quite liberating to just be and know, truly know instead of just doing and doubting all of the time.

So this week has been a breath of fresh air, relishing the time alone without the tremors of numbers insisting I dally on their code over and over again lest I actually miss a chance to open up the channel on the other end. Nope. You can have them.

I finished my Batman game, luuuuuuuved it. Giggled like a six year old all the way through. Saw my share of movies, new Almodovar film Broken Embraces, really great. Penelope, oh Penelope. I must say that it reminded me of a French film that I saw a couple of years ago called Tell No One. Now that film was spectacular, the best I had seen that year, so many twists and turns, just an enthralling story. If you have not seen it rent it immediately, curl up and enjoy the ride. Moon was quite a mind trip, a must see if you like Sci-Fi, a lot like 2001 but brings up this really deep concept of human consciousness; highly recommended.

What else, went to a couple of events, a play, a yummy yummy brunch at my new fave spot out of anywhere in La La Land. LA Mill Coffee in Silverlake. Oh my goodness. Look, I don't drink coffee, I am a tea nut with tea nut tea bags consisting of tea nut loose leaf teas of all kinds of tea nut flavors. But they make this coffee over there that is simply delicious; it is an endorphin rush of flavor. Their magical process is achieved through what's called a Coffee Siphon and they use these exquisite coffees from all over the world that just caress your tongue like a long lost lover. Yes, it's been a while but yes this is some fantastic bean juice people. I wish they would open up one in Hollywood. Probably better they don't cuz I'd be out a serious chunk of change every month.

A beautiful new friend has come into my life who is moving here from Mexico City. I love her energy! We have a lot of fun together, easy and smooth. You know, I am proof that that 'When Harry Met Sally' principle is a load of crap. You know the one, men can't have female friends because they'd just want to sleep with them the whole time. So not true. I have many many female friends who I care for deeply and I have no ulterior motive to sleep with any of them at all; I just love them. Although when my female friends go out with me to Delis I'm the one who's making the fake orgasm sounds so, yeah, might be something to that as well :)

So, I'm curious to see how these upcoming twelve days are going to unfold with this process. Today was just a prep day, nothing major at all.

Oy, time for bed, dammit, haven't ended on anything poignant again. Oh screw it, iTunes, my coda for Day Uno please...

Delicate by Terence Trent D'Arby.

Ah, I have been inspired, let the words drizzle onto the whiteness...

...I shall delicately tip toe across the landscape of images that swirl atop my sphere, their fluttering focus whispers and hums, a diaphanous diagram of diagonals directing me towards angels in angles hid amongst corridors of corners. I am no Theseus and there is no Bull-Headed man prowling in the center of this mind maze yet my journey past these shifting shadows has been booked and chartered. In a blink of an eye watch how these walls will fall like reigns.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Completion

2010-01-25T00:45:00.001-08:00

I feel like I should get some sort of certificate or some shmaltzy music should play as I exit my bathroom for the final time.

Where are the cherubic angels or doe-eyed cartoon characters to flit to and fro around me as I take the last of my capsules and packets?

I DID IT!

Ooops, not so fast...

Yeah, see I still have to do another Parasite Cleanse to get rid of the baby buggers of the adult buggers aaaaaaaaanddd...apparently I'm supposed to do another Parasite Cleanse three weeks after I complete the second one. Each of these cleanses takes twelve days soooo.....I'm not really officially done done until the middle of March now. Sigh.

But I do get this week off before I start the second parasite cleanse and I plan to enjoy it and celebrate it by...umm, well there's definitely a burger in my near future, yum yum. Oh stop it, don't give me that condescending glare or quizzical look. I deserve it, and it'll be one of those uber healthy grass-fed beef variety so no ickiness in my meat.

I feel really happy and clean :)

I got a few things to root out of me energetically later before I go schluff but other than that I'm in a wonderful space.

What a wild intense cathartic overwhelming constricting liberating fearful experience of loving myself I just had. I've fallen in love with myself all over again without the help of you know who, Mr. E-g-o, pbbbbbbt! (that's me giving him a zerbert and making a face)

I have no idea what I'm really supposed to do with myself right now. Everything is wide open with possibilities and even more importantly I don't feel the driving angst of having to figure it all out right off the bat. I've grounded and settled in the joy of the moment and in the not knowing and that's going to be the challenge, to maintain that sense of beingness as I move forward in the upcoming days, weeks and months.

I've wiped the slate clean on many many levels of my existence.

You know something I realized today as I was reminiscing over my going out last night to this event was how centered I was in myself and how I had no expectations other than just whittling time through my personal sieve and seeing how the evening would play out. The result? Having people come to me, grabbing my hand, commenting on my whatever and the list goes on.

I've heard this time and time again in my training as an artist and through my friends in times of need or remembering 'I am enough'. There's no need to push through or impose myself on a scene of any kind be it theatrical or real, those are the same aren't they?

So here I am. Grateful. Grateful for it all.

I'd also like to thank the most beautiful exciting Farrah who I love dearly as a friend. It was she who suggested I blog during this entire experience and if not for her who knows what kind of experience I would have had. It was quite therapeutic having this blog as my companion and midnight lamp and I intend to keep utilizing it no matter if it's one person, zero beings or a throng of thousands that are reading it.

I may take the week off before starting up again with my second part of the cleanse but we'll see. Again, all possibilities are there for the taking.

Well, I'd like to conclude this entire Internal Cleanse with one final random generated song from my iTunes. I tell you, it has not failed me yet in spitting out a track so perfect for the moment. I have not skipped to a new track at all they have all been random. In a way I feel its how the Universe is speaking to me at times as outrageous as that may sound.

So. Here we go. The last notes of this chapter of my life will be played by...

The Neville Brothers.

Wow, that's so crazy, the name of the song?

Wake Up.

Thanks God. I feel like I finally have.

With Love & Light,

Me

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Twenty

2010-01-24T01:33:00.001-08:00

Aaaand down the stretch he comes!

Tempted to skip this entry but after going 19 in a row and only having one day left after this to complete the internal cleanse it would be blasphemous to miss just one out of sheer indifference or laziness.

It is late though and I actually did make it out to something tonight, this eclectic event in Hollywood of the DoLab/Lucent L'amour/Burning Humanoids thingamobbie type vibe or whatsis. Interestingly enough the majority of the evening was filled with Comedic Improvisational performances showcasing a couple of troupes. There was also this white chick who got up there and rapped over recorded beats in short shorts, boots and a vest which eventually gave way to naked torso with furry pasties. Yes, my mouth was agape during her entire, umm, her uh, stuff.

I didn't care too much for the improv troupes, at times I wish I had a remote to change the channel. Here's my take on Improv. While I've been to many Improv shows, have laughed at many moments, been impressed by many improv cats and applauded some whose quick wit was something to behold, at the end of the day I find it to be nothing more than bad acting; really bad acting. Like, low level acting exercises from remedial acting classes. I also find improv to be at its root, deceitful and inauthentic. The pursuit of magical spur-of-the-moment comedy while entertaining seems to me to be forced.

I believe it takes a powerful actor who has a strong basis of training to be truly successful at improv where it is not a anarchic display of boundless distorted caricatures. Great actors can be great improvisational artists but it is not a two way street. It's like these improv groups have escaped the rigors of their classes and realize, 'Hey, we can do anything we want onstage now!' and subsequently these shows always devolve into 'look how clever I am or how many characters I can do' land.

I've done Improv, I'm fine at it, I've had my moments, it's never really satisfying for me. It's irresponsible art. You go out there with nothing and if nothing happens, hey, there was nothing there, at least I made something albeit minor out of nothing. Going out with work, with notes in mind, with ideas primed to succeed or fail, with courage to commit to yourself, to translate the genius in your mind to a digestible morsel for the masses, that is exciting to me. If during the course of that journey you are derailed or inspired to stream onto a path that materializes out of thin air and it somehow brings you back to your thoughts coloring them in a way you hadn't thought possible, well then, you have achieved the elusive alchemy of true improvisation.

These are my personal aesthetics on the form, I'm sure many will disagree with me but finding freedom in the form is exponentially harder in my opinion than finding form in the freedom.

Other than that I had a pretty decent time, ran into some peeps who I hadn't seen in a bit including, oh my, this chick who I met years ago who happened to live in the building behind me. Melanie. Blonde. Although now she was brunette and short hair (oy why must women chop their hair, just me talking, I just loves me the long hair) she looked great though, just took me completely by surprise. I had lent her a book, Conversations with God, which she told me she had read but only after resisting reading it for two years. Good to know it was read and enjoyed. I've given out many many books to women over the years and they almost never come back. I want to say that I will refuse to ever lend a woman a book of mine again but I get so excited when they mention something that reminds me of a book that they should absolutely read, and if I have it it's hard to not offer it. Get a number nothing comes back, give a book nothing comes back, I know I know, shoosh, enough of that yuck yuck.

Weirder thing too was last night I had a dream of my ex of 12 years ago Melanie, also a blonde, how interesting that the only other Melanie I've met popped into my space tonight.

Oh, as for my detox symptoms and all that, it was a relatively peaceful normal day; I turned the corner.

Ummm, well, I think that's all I got right now. It's past 2. Glad I rallied the troops of my solitude to get myself out in a social situation again. I do have the gift of gab which is enjoyable to use.

Not a poignant enough ending again, let's go to the iTunes for the random generation of a song most apropos for this moment as it has miraculously crystallized songs that perfectly summed up the post.

And the track for today is...

Higher Level by KRS One.

Yup. On my way.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Nineteen

2010-01-22T22:34:00.000-08:00

Weepy Whiny Friday.

Headaches all day long.

Nasty ones. Hard to focus.

Weird ebb and flow of this whole process. Used to be it took forever to get clear and happy until late in the evening. I shortened the gap on that and flipped at some point where I was now waking up completely happy. However, it seemed that happiness decreased as the day went on to the point where the gap was shortened to being happy again. Now, it's completely arbitrary, no rhyme or reason to any particular moment. I'm stumped by the fluctuations in my mood and at this point I'm detaching as best as I can so that I can be more of an observer of my turn as a chameleon.

Wait, didn't I have Chameleon pop into my space just recently? Yeah, like a few days ago. Yeesh, someone cue Synchronicity by The Police while I'm at it.

I have no plans for this weekend at all and depending on what second you get me I'm either thrilled or morbidly upset about it. I've had hundreds of 'not going anywhere at all' weekends so you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

Saw 500 Days of Summer tonight, very good, 4 outta 5, a lil' contrived, lotsa great moments delivered the waterworks at the end. Yes, I will see your chick flick Missy and raise you a sensitive lovy-dovey period piece, oh yes I will.

Ohhhh man, my head. What does blood, lymph and skin hav e t o d o wi th my b ra i n. toughest day o the week.

Received a bit of warm fuzzy news late this evening. My buddy Gabriel who is currently with the Army in Afghanistan just got my Comedy Special DVD that I sent him and is going to watch it later with some other soldiers. How cool is that? In no way am I pulling a Bob Hope and entertaining entire infantries but I'll take several grunts, is that what they're called? This really tickles me inside, something very fulfilling about it. When I allowed people to download my special for free many did but I never heard back from anyone if they liked it or not which of course sent me down the 'man they must've really hated it' road which is nothing but my own fear painting a picture. But knowing that a bunch of guys are going to no matter what laugh at some point later because of something I said is very comforting.

No matter what's going on with me it makes me feel so wonderful that somewhere on the other side of the world I'm making some people laugh, some people who really need it and...gosh getting weepy, what am I?!? Pregnant?!?

At the heart of it that's all I want, send me or pieces of me all over the world to make people laugh thereby giving me more opportunities to create more things that will continue to make more and more people laugh, and then think, and then get better.

Awww, somebody just sent me some positive vibes on a FB post, thanks man! I needed them. Aww, okay I'm gonna fritz out my Mac from saltwater if I don't watch out.

What more can I say? Something poignant to end? Why don't we let the iTunes have the last word again...and it's...

In a Sentimental Mood by Coltrane.

And...cut.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Eighteen

2010-01-22T00:41:00.000-08:00

Went gallivanting today in LA's wet windy wonderland out to Santa Monica to meet up with a friend who I hadn't seen in over 2 years, no she wasn't one of my 'Break Silence in Case of Emergency' girls, strictly cool platonic vibe. Driving out there at times was like being in a log ride at Knots Berry farm what with all the splashing and the endless buckets of cloud pee.

We met up at Tudor House on 2nd Street which I've known about for years and was very much looking forward to...k...I'm breaking down a bit...

I thought just doing a quick lil' recap of the day would get me going into this but after coming home in the late afternoon about 5 it's been rough, dunno why. Had a wonderful time today and also spent some time with an unexpected visitor and her lovely son but, yeesh, I got home and it was a downward spiral of emotions for no apparent reason since I was feeling quite happy and joyous once I got up despite the gloom and doom of the window settings from outside.

Yeah, I'm gonna have to do another deep cleaning tonight of my chakras and cords, I missed some stuff from several nights ago and I think it's grown and looking to find its claim on my energetic real estate. Blecch, I feel like I've just wasted your eye movements if you've read this far, my apologies. I'm not clear on the cause. I'm coming down the home stretch. I mean, Sunday is the last day of the Internal Cleanse. Then I get a week off and finish up with another Parasite Cleanse so I thought it would be easier. It is physically but there's so much other mishegas that's been stirred up that I'm not getting a complete handle on yet.

Ouch, it's my heart, 3rd, 6th is cloudy, 5th has barbs sticking in it, sigh...I think it's mostly my own doing too.

You know this just hit me today while I was driving. A little episode I had with this female last night at the gym.

So I get there last night, hit the locker-room to drop off my hoodie and made a beeline straight to the Ab Machines. As I approached them I noticed this radiant woman on this bicep machine opposite them. I mean, beyond physically attractive, a smile that grabbed me and shook me awake. Nope. Ignoring her. Not interested. Still smarting from whatshername, confidence a bit low. I am not here to talk to anyone, thanks for playing, probably has a boyfriend. Nope. I got a work-out to do.

Minutes later on my way to the oblique machine, there's two, both occupied, she's on one of them. Ha Ha. Funny. Not falling for the banana in the tailpipe. I'll go to the freeweight area, danke schoen. On my way back, no sign of her, off to the leg machines, three spots down from where I end up she's back, doing her thing, making conversation with some dude, glowing like a lighthouse, hypnotized for a bit I try to make out their convo, the devil on my shoulder hops off and kicks me in my chest, back to my business.

She starts on the calf machines, I finish, beeline away banishing myself to the freeweight area again which is packed, nothing open really, dammit. Off to the courts to distract myself, lil' flouridated poisonous water for my system and back to the machines. Right out of the Basketball court she's now right in front of me on some machine. I can absolutely look her in her eyes and acknowledge her or try to make eye contact. Nope. Blinders up. Glaze my eyes. I walk past and flick some energy out of my 5th chakra in her direction. I'm more befuddled than I am annoyed. At the time I was just thinking, this is weird I keep seeing this woman.

I mean, my gym is far from small, lots of opportunities to miss someone who might be there or to have your paths cross maybe once or twice at best. That's usually the norm, a two, maybe three path-crossing. Not to bore you with my entire work-out but her coming into my view or doing her thing near where I was doing mine happened another three to four times.

Reminder, this woman is by far the most beautiful woman I've ever seen at my gym in the two plus years that I've been a member there.

ooh angel, hi, need u, please stay for later

So, I'm done, off to stretch, get my hoodie and leave. I do that, exit the locker room to go to the elevator which I never take but it's raining.

She's standing there. Earbuds.

?

I walk over, wait for a second or two, not looking at her, screw this, I get impatient, no way I'm riding down with...nope, I turn to go and take the stairs. Well, that's that.

I get to the escalators look over my shoulder, elevator hasn't arrived yet, yup, that's that. I get in my whip, start her up and zip off to go. A car zips in front of me as I'm about to turn in the underground parking garage. I almost hit it.

It's her.

I slam the brakes, I see her half smile or something. Uhhh, what?!? How did she? I was ahead, I took the, no, where was her car, it couldn't be, we're on the same level and...now I'm following her. Following her. No, no, no. Get to the exit there's two lanes to exit, I am not staying behind her, I get in the other lane, look over, she's not looking at me, ah ha, see this is nothing. I scoot out and turn before she can catch up.

Right on Hollywood, rearview mirror, she also takes a right, I'm going straight, light. She gets in the left lane to get onto La Brea, okay, finally, off you go from whence you came! She turns before I can go. That's that.

I take the first left on Hollywood past La Brea onto Formosa cuz I see that the light has turned red and I don't wanna wait, I usually go further up but traffic was coming and I beat it. I hustle down to the stop sign on Havenhurst and, lol, no way, just taking a left onto Formosa from Havenhurst is, you guessed it! Batgirl who just came from the gym.

Oh, get this, all day in my head, we remember how songs from out of nowhere have been coming to me during this detox, random songs, Passover ditties etc. So I've been singing 'Superwoman' by Stevie Wonder all day long. I have no idea why. Especially this part, over and over:

When the winter came you were not around
Through the bitter winds love could not be found
Where were you when I needed you, last winter, my love?

Don't know why. I had been singing this refrain over and over prior to my going to the gym.

I finally made it home and half-expected her to jump out of my fridge. Kidding, actually I thought nothing of it until I pieced it together today. Now throughout my years of educating myself over the fairer most beauteous sex I've learned many lessons, some may be invalid at this point but some stay the test of time. One of the many that I've learned is that if a woman is interested in you she will find a way to be around you. Now that may seem blatantly obvious but it's missed by many men out in the field. This holds true especially in bars and clubs. One might think that it's impossible to gauge a woman's interest in you amidst a crowd and loud music unless you actually approach her. Pas de tout. As long as you either throw a glance or two her way or show up a few times near her area you're good to go. It's the Zen way. If she's interested she will somehow magically appear close to you. It may be with her friends and she may completely ignore you but in my experience it's a fail-safe way to know when to break the ice with someone who wants you to approach.

Ahhhh, this is really making me feel so much better, this writing, thank u God, I get it, writing is my elixir and my lover.

Now, back to Superwoman. Let's just state the facts.

This being took me by complete surprise a day after I considered myself completely clean of any possibilities in the arena of romance. During the course of my 45 minute work-out and exit this human appeared in my field around eleven times or so. If the average is two to three, maybe five to six in a club over the course of hour or so, this person double or tripled in half the time with lower probabilities due to the numerous proximities of the space we were in.

Hmm...downloading in my left ear now, one sec.

Okay. Now, do I think that this person was into me. Consciously no. Subconsciously maybe but will that manifest into anything tangible. I will not nor cannot say. Perhaps it was just a portent of things to come for me, more symbolic than real. Another interesting tidbit was that she seemed much larger and taller when I saw her doing her work-out but when I stood next to her at the elevator she was totally my height and not as bulky as I thought her to be.

I am not going to go back on the same day and same time in hopes of finding her. Not gonna do it. This is not up to me. I am not in control. Nope, not me. I'll go whenever I go, those three times a week, three random times that I always go which could be from any time in the morning, afternoon or night, there is no rhyme or reason to my exercise regimen I do it as often as I can but there is no set pattern.

But if I do see her again, oh I most certainly will say something, with no attachments to a result, no scripted line or vibe. I'm sure the right sounds will work their way out of my mouth.

And if you think I am being totally Spock logic about this and shutting off every drop and sprinkle of emotion from this, oh u betcha! Hollywood's had enough drops and sprinkles this past week no need for me to add to the flooding :)

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Seventeen

2010-01-21T00:33:00.000-08:00

Up is down. Left is right. Inside is most definitely outside.

It has been a rollercoaster of emotions today. For some reason I was up at 6:30am and had no idea why. I wandered around the apartment and then began the wild swing from happiness to sadness to joy to self-loathing to a bowl of organic oatmeal with flaxseeds.

I crashed four hours later as if I had done the day already.

There's something that my Freshman Year Acting Teacher at NYU said that I'll never forget, she said as artists you must laugh, cry, scream and love every day. I tend to agree with that statement, that every day we must allow whatever emotion is there to flow through us, to not hold onto a drop so we are always in our truth in every moment.

Ah the inimitable Ms. Saskia Hecht, she was such a character. You would be doing a scene or something and she would blurt out 'Jackson Pollock! Jackson Pollock!!!' which meant that she wanted to see more of you, to just splatter and attack the space with every color that you could dream up; explode into your work. She would also tell you to 'Come from your asshole!' which when delivered with her accent was hard to not break up into laughter but there are times in my work since then where I've connected to sphincter energy to propel me through a scene. Those four years at The Experimental Theater Wing at NYU really shaped me as an artist and to this day serves as my foundation for my work, deeply grateful for having gone there. I cannot wait to be directing someone one day and to tell them to come from their asshole.

I believe the root of my zig-zagging mania is that as I peel away the layers of my belief systems, one Russian Doll revealing another smaller one, I'm journeying to the center of it all, unearthing the core, no more disguises. No more deceiving myself or the world. No more tainted confessions. No more inauthentic conjuring in my work.

My blood is being detoxified, the rivers of my body. My lymph. My skin, the largest organ that I have. Yes there is a joke there, you fill it in, too obvious. They saved the biggest for last. In the previous two weeks it was Wednesday when I got hit the hardest and the same sort of held true today although it was much different. I got worn out and exhausted again but it wasn't physical. I wanna say it was mental but it was beyond that. As weary as I am at this moment it's not at all debilitating, if anything it's more of a relief.

It has rained 4 days non-stop here in Los Angeles. It may rain again tomorrow. I can't remember the time it was like this. Actually I can, wait...lemme check. Yup. Found it. I remember writing about this a while ago. It was the exact date 5 years ago, January 22nd 2005. We had almost a week of rain that week as well. You can read my post on that here: Let the Rain Come Down.

Five years ago I was at a completely different point in my life and in my relationship to my life and to this city. That was the halfway mark. It took me five years to finally let go of my connection to New York and my home and to embrace this city as mine; to surrender. Now five years later I'm doing the exact same thing. But this time I'm embracing myself and all that I have been and know that I am meant to be; surrendering my control, my expectations and my obsession over the hows. This deluge is taking the last remnants of that fearful self off into the pearly grates of Hollywood. Never to be seen again? Hardly. I'm sure at some point I'll down a glass of that paradigm, could be tomorrow. But it's knowing that when it comes time to assimilate those molecules into my system or not I'll confidently choose the latter.

I'm not sure what I'm going to be like once this is all over in a couple of weeks. I daresay it will be anything evident on the outside, perhaps negligible tweaks that those who have known me for quite some time may notice. But while many may get themselves detailed on a regular basis so that they look as new as possible for all to see, I'm having my entire engine realigned and replaced.

So while my vehicle may look the same on the exterior, under the hood I'm gonna have a whole new bunch of Warrior Power to accelerate me on my path.

In the words/sounds that were made by Speed Buggy from the cartoons of the seventies:

Vrooom a Zooom Zooommmmmmmmm!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Sixteen

2010-01-20T00:33:00.001-08:00

Ohhh man, add another stand-up bomb to the history of the Verbal Warrior.

A deflating sigh wafted out of me as I walked into McCabe's in Santa Monica. I didn't know what I was expecting but I shouldn't have had any expectations. Perhaps I was deluded into thinking this would have the Irish Pub vibe of Dublin's back in the day when it was the absolute spot to be seen in Hollywood as a comic. This? This felt like I was walking into a Landmark Forum get-together where they invite you over to their homes so you can be inspired to join their life-changing ways. Well, "I had an upset" over my eventual performance, comprende Landmarkaroonies?

I dunno. It was a work-out room you know, comfy couches parallel to the pool tables on one side of the space, casual vibe, low key, people just hanging out pounding beers and fried greasy food. Plaids, jeans, guts, fears, hey-howz-it-goin's, hair-ties, flip-flops, scribbled notes...jeez I really cannot stand when comics bring notes onstage, I don't care how insignificant the performance might be or if it's an open mic, like know your sh*t and go from...sigh...Janeane Garafalao once did a Comedy Special with notes onstage, I just don't get that, it's as if actors were walking around onstage with scripts during a theatrical production. It even bugs me when a quarterback in football reads from his wrist during the huddle, really? You think people playing King Lear read from their wrists dude? You think you have more crap to memorize than the most complex language in the history of the planet?!? Know your shizznit sucka!

I didn't give myself a fighting chance up there. I half-assed my set preparation. Rather than going through what I usually do before deciding on my set I kinda just sprinkled some topics on a txt file and printed it out figuring it would be enough to go on once I was onstage. No bueno.

Honestly, I was last, and sitting through the comedians, I just, dammit, it was like the standard self-deprecating uber-filthy stuff, like do I really need to know about the masturbatory habits of every male comic? I was wincing through most of it, there were some funny bits and all, but I just felt totally out of place and sitting through it all took away any gusto I might have had going into it. So I got it into my head that I was going to do a recap of every comedian once I got onstage, judgmental egotistical b.s. I was also going to comment/deride the space, great going Issac! Way to endear people to you. Rather than rising above it and bringing some light to the space I sunk to the lowest denominator and became a sardonic critic of it all as if I had the right to say anything prior to showing them a higher form of comedy, like who the hell was I?

Needless to say any material that I may have thrown out after this middle-finger barrage fell flat before it could aerate. A group of about six who were nestled deep into a couch near the stage and who were probably buzzed beyond recognition were so moved by me that they were compelled to actually get up and leave during my set. Now that was an accomplishment! Need help motivating your sorry ass outta bed in the morning? Issac Bright's comedy can make you wanna run from the comfort of your home! It's like a fire in your home without all the damage!

Look, I'm not gonna get bent outta shape over a bad show but it's like another marker in the road that has me questioning myself all over again. I had a similar experience at the beginning of last year when I put this enormous effort into creating a show. I ended up losing all this money and having an awful experience onstage, the turnout was low all things considered and the people I partnered with did not deliver in any capacity which caused me to rethink my entire approach to my art.

I just don't know where I'm supposed to go. I've never found my niche, my group, my people and I've been through more than I care to remember. I know there's an audience out there for me, a rather large global one, I just don't know what my entry-point is to begin that dialogue. God, so drained and confused. It's cool u know, I feel it's all a component of this detox.

One of my closest friends in the world, God bless her, said to me tonight that perhaps the lesson I was learning from this was to see how I used to be as a comedian. How I was raunchy and combative or low-frequency and how that's not who I am anymore. I can dig that, totally, but now what? That being the case then my whole Comedy Special DVD thing is completely invalid at this point, why promote a piece of art that is not who I am anymore? It never took off, it was filled with business complications, as much as I've received great feedback on it nobody's really jumped out of their skin after seeing it. Again, I dunno, maybe I'm being overly critical.

Just to side-step for a moment, and this is gross so don't read, scroll down, but as far as my second day of this blood, lymph, skin part, man, right before I left for my show I had a poop rampage. I went five times in less than thirty minutes, once when I was literally out the door and then stopped 'What, are you kidding me? More?' Once I got to the space I had to unleash another rampage in the Starbucks next door, something poetically justified in that. Crazy. Feel great as far as the biological aspect of the detox. That should be the name of a punk band: Poop Rampage.

To add to this momentous day, and it is a monumental one I finally bottomed and zeroed out on the female front; bottomed, yes, I am an ass man after all. A situation I was excited about went poof! before I even had a chance to get a word in edgewise, edgewise that is (lil' Foghorn Leghorn reference 4 ya :) It hurt really bad but miraculously I'm feeling completely better about it. Normally this would've ate at me for weeks but, interesting how I bounced back after several hours of ickiness. It did hamper my efforts to prep for my show but I'm not using that as an excuse, I had ample enough time while I was there to right the ship and chose not to.

Man, I really thought this woman...oh well. I also took it upon myself to delete the remaining numbers I had of other girls from my phone. I said I already did that but I had several 'Break Silence in Case of Emergency' chicks left and after much turmoil and whining I deleted them as well. So I've got nobody. Not a single female on my radar. Nada. I can't say I remember the last time I was in this position. Even though I may never have ever gotten together with any one in particular there was always somebody I had to think about or wonder about. Now I'm...phew...I mean I could meet someone tomorrow if I wanted to but I don't know if I just wanna meet someone for the sake of meeting someone.

Maybe that's what this whole process is about. I'm literally becoming a new man with a new perspective, a new body, a new concept of who I am meant to be, a new relationship to my heart; a total clean slate. Wow. It's quite a lonely feeling though, releasing almost everything and everyone from your life, old thought patterns. I get that I'm creating the space to allow for the better and the new to come in but the purgatory between the two worlds is quite disorienting at times.

I've always been one to want to have something or someone tangible to look forward to and now I'm truly standing in the epicenter of the unknown.

What an ecstatic wondrous frightening place to be.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Fifteen

2010-01-19T00:20:00.000-08:00

Whoa...where did the day go? I feel like I just got up fifteen minutes ago and now it's past midnight. I feel a bit stumped tonight, as far as blogging goes. It's never been an afterthought and now it's one of those 'oh man I almost forgot to...'

Well, I started Day One of cleaning my Lymph, Blood and Skin. Nothing major to report just yet although by Wednesday I'm sure I'll be crawling on the carpets of my apartment cursing in Arabic, Hebrew and Yosemite Samish unleashing blood curdling cries of agony; or maybe not.

I'm a little pre-occupied in my head because I have a lil' gig tomorrow night. Doesn't matter how big or small a show is for me I always love to prepare for it. My dream is to always be preparing for something, a show, gig, film, play, whatever, if I am constantly in a creative space and being compensated enough for it so that I don't have to work doing anything else than I will be as happy as I've ever been in this lifetime. That's really what I ask for more than anything else, well, the Woman is a verry close second, and a Knicks Championship, uhhh, while I'm at it, a room full of exquisite high-end loose leaf teas, Batmobile, peaceful home away from the madness of life, purple velvet suit, umm, yeah, that tops the list for me.

I am far from perfecting my approach to a show but tendencies seem to coalescing into a standard step-by-step from idea to microphone:

There's lots of pacing and staring out into space. Lots of daydreaming with txt files on desktops and post-its frenetically filled out with typos galore. I love using my Audio Recorder to blabber on but that's filled to the hilt right now, seems like it's always filled to the hilt or out of batteries. Last night at 2:30am I spit out an entirely new set from outta nowhere that lasted more than fifteen minutes and could only jot down the major ideas and jokes onto my laptop before conking out. Yeah it's a bit haphazard to say the least.

I've been diligently working on getting all of my material from years gone by into one place and it's no small task. There's a slew of word documents and audio files; digital and analog. Man, I haven't even tapped into the mini-cassettes yet which probably has over an hour on each tape if not more and there's like eight of them. There could be full bits on there or quick hitters, who knows, this is like a decade's plus worth of stuff most of which I'll probably never do. What also happens is that when I'm going through this stuff it inspires me to either think of new stuff or build on stuff that I've just discovered so it's not really a straight shot up the PCH it's more like a slow family trip down the New Jeresy Turnpike with lots of stops in between.

I'm not unhappy about any of this, I'd rather be prolific than not. Knowing that I have a gig I suppose the normal thing to do would be to go and find stuff that I've recently did that worked or choose something from the archives that I wanna try out that's never been given the audible freedom but instead I get a bit overwhelmed from going backwards so I just ruminate on a idea that may have popped into my head and before you know it, bam, I've got all this new material that comes out fully cooked sometimes and sadly it may be the best delivery I'll ever have of it. Then I'll write some stuff out, take a piece of paper of lil' notepad thingy with me to the spot, go over what I want to do and then once I'm onstage it all could get flushed down the toilet if new stuff comes to me or if I'm reacting to audience or previous comedians.

Many Comics do several shows a night, dozens a week, I've never been that way. I think I may have done two shows in one night once and the most during a week, maybe 4. I guess I'm definitely not a mic whore as much as I might think I'd like to be it never works out. I'd much rather focus on one major show and put everything I have into that versus little ones. Hmmm, there appears to be a direct corollary between my comedic life and my love life. While I think I might wanna whore myself out and do and be with lots of women, I don't or it never works out. I'd much rather focus on one or prepare for one ultra-fantastic date. I've always been built that way so why do I fight against it?

Essentially my Scorpion need to control and quantify my art is in all likelihood a hopeless endeavor and I should allow myself to let go and trust my work more but I gotta tell you, I've been finding some real killer gems lately that I'm glad I've gone back to retrieve so, yeah, balance balance balance.

I think that's all I got tonight, ooh, well, I wanted to write something about this woman I'm thinking of but, I mean, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be reading this at all but, I don't wanna tag the wall of the web with my...so let's just say...no, no expectations, I'm letting go, it's out of my hands...

Okay, I'll let my iTunes shuffle to whatever needs to be said for this moment, it's usually so right in times like this, here we go, and it's...

Chameleon by Stanley Jordan?

Ummm...

Yeah, I've got a gig to prepare for.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Fourteen

2010-01-18T00:16:00.001-08:00

Let the rain come down...Let the rain come down...17 days.

A classic Prince song for a perfect flag in the sand to commemorate my 17th day on this Internal Cleanse, three days prep and fourteen days actual cleanse. Plus it's blissfully raining in LA to add a coda to this week of purification so there is wonderful synchronicity in that, wait lemme go pop it on while I jibber jab this keyboard.

So two down one to go, actually two to go I still get to do another Parasite cleanse to kill the babies a week after I complete this three week process. I know, gnarly, but hey, why get rid of the adult buggers if the baby buggers are just gonna take their place? Hmmm, sounds like how politics work, people forget to get rid of the baby parasites in waiting as well.

I feel really good, a bit spent, lil' lonely but used to that, a slight crave for a burger but not overwhelming...oh wait! I found this spot near me. Oh my. It's this raw vegan yummy eatery that's literally a five minute walk from me, and it's been open for 3 months!!! How the hell have I missed this? You know, I saw it but, I dunno, it's not really clear, I mean I passed it a lot while in my car and saw the chairs and stuff outside but for some reason I thought they were selling furniture or something. Arrghgh, having this for the previous two weeks would have made it so much easier and convenient to have the foods I need to be eating but oh well, better late than never and I get to enjoy them for good now.

They're called Elderberries and they're on Sunset Blvd. near Sierra Bonita. Jeez, Abbot's Habit which I go to a lot is probably no more than 100 ft away from them. I popped in there last night and, well, you know when you walk into space and you can feel the higher frequency and good vibrations, it just passes through you like a calm caress, this space has an abundance of that.

There was nobody in there when I showed up but Dotty who owns the place and makes the food. What a delightful woman she was, we had a lovely chat. A little inspiration for all of you out there as far as her story. They had wanted to open for a long long time and they finally did by getting the produce they needed for their menu as a loan because they had the space but no other money. So they were going on complete faith that they would sell enough to pay back what they owed for the food and they did and subsequently people have been showing up here and there to offer their help, support or publicity to get the word out about them and now they're chugging along growing day by day; sometimes you just gotta jump namean?

And the menu...ohhh...it should have said 'Issac please eat us' at the top. Now, I am not a Vegan and I do intend to return to eating meat every now and then after this cleanse is over but I love me some raw food and it's so hard to find fresh prepared raw or Vegan in Hollywood. Ooh! And there's this new non-dairy, non-soy, non-non no-nuthin yucky cheese that's out called Daiya and it's the best! It tastes sooo good, I had this Vegan pizza thing with it and olives, spinach, tomatoes and all that good stuff and it was quite scrumptious.

Dotti was so funny while making it. Apparently they had sold out of all their food last night because, get this, they had a comedy show there! How have I missed this frikkin place? According to her the place was packed and the show had a bunch of headliners who rocked the raw cashew butter out of its jars. So yeah, gonna call this girl manana about possibly performing at my new fave raw vegan spot that's five minutes away from me :)

Though a bit vexed by having missed this place I love that, when in life something that's been there for a while just happens to present itself to you. That happened in New York all the time, buildings that you walk by for years reveal themselves to be something completely different to you one day 'Wait, this is where the performance/gig/audition/secret meeting/you (insert adorable female) live?'

Excited for the upcoming week and weeks to come, the coils are coming off and that speck of light is flexing its rays insisting on its right for a grander display of luminance.

I also get to have my first Elderberries breakfast of Raw Granola and Cashew milk, life is a beautiful thang.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Thirteen

2010-01-16T22:05:00.000-08:00

Had a bit of a tit for tat on the Book of Faces today over my comment that nobody should give to the Red Cross if they're looking to donate to the people of Haiti.

As much as I may have gotten some grief over it I'll stand by my statement on this horrible organization. I'm not condemning those who volunteer or work on the ground for them as I'm sure their intentions are pure and for the right purposes. The indictment is for those who run the books and sit at the top of the pyramid, they are noo bueno. I'm not about to blast a bevy of links for you to click on to back up my claims. The information is out there if you care to do a bit of investigating. From Oklahoma City to 9/11 to the SF Earthquake to Katrina these cats have consistently horded funds from those who needed it.

A link I will post is a powerful article on the history of this country and how the US has consistently sought to suppress and control the proud courageous people of this land throughout the century: Global Research Article.

Look, once you see Papa Bush and Slick Willie sneering on camera saying they're here to help and on their way it should do nothing but trigger your gag reflex. I wouldn't trust these sickos to carry my groceries to my car.

I believe that all these sweeping text barrages of giving money along with the telethons and e-mails brings up a deeper question to the fore and that is how one should be charitable in a situation such as this or any situation for that matter. Is a disaster what it takes for you to be charitable? Is a homeless mother and child that lives on the street a mile away from you less deserving of need than those thousands of miles away? Does this invalidate the plight of Tibetans or Africans any more? Is a homebound elderly person now pushed aside for more pressing needs from those who choose to give?

Charity is a way of life, not an event.

Only you can attune your internal compass to what feels right for you and no one can truly tell you what is right versus wrong in that regard, being charitable is most certainly a private affair in many respects. You do what you can when you can and in a manner that makes you feel good about whatever it is you give be it time or money. That really is the underlying emotion as selfish as it sounds, do what makes you feel good. Surely you do it selflessly but even Mother Theresa admitted to her desire for her own personal gains through the work she was doing. It is perfectly fine to seek a sense of contentment or joy through a selfless act.

I give monetarily to a lot of causes and organizations. Some months I give a lot, some not so much, some not at all. Sometimes I'll choose a gift that may be larger but that will have a greater impact such as something from Heifer International or sometimes I'll just give ten bucks to a local food bank. It may feel arbitrary but ultimately I feel it's not.

Also for three years, once a week, I would deliver meals to the elderly or sick through either Meals on Wheels or Project Angel Food. It was an honor to do so and brought me many wonderful moments that I cherished. But at some point I began to feel it becoming an obligation more than an act of charity. Circumstances arose where I had to stop for a bit but when I was able to return I chose to continue to take a break from the deliveries. Why? Because I wanted to be coming from a place of unconditional love and not from wanting to not feeling guilty and that's what in my humble opinion is where the crux of charity lies; that you do it from your heart not to assuage any pangs of guilt you might feel by not giving. I'm returning to Angel Food and the time away was a much needed respite. Now I'm doing it with the same enthusiasm and beneficence that I did when I first started.

Nobody from any cause should ever pressure you or make you feel guilty for not giving to something. Oy vey! They always these people outside of Whole Foods with the clipboards and twinkle in their eyes and it drives me batty. I already felt the neediness from the chick shucking and jiving at the lil' table for the new superfood product and now I have to time my exit to scoot behind someone else so I'm not confronted by having to heal the world with raw organic kale salad in my privileged hands.

Earlier this week these two cute chicks were outside, which made it worse of course, ohh man why'd they haveta be cute! So I shuffled outside with my 70% raw cacao $5.99 chocolate bar in my Richie Rich possession and this girl says this to me 'Would you like to take a moment to save the life of a child today?' What?!?!? Oh come now. How the f&Hk am I supposed to respond to that if I don't want to? No I have no interest in saving a child's life right now I'm trying to rush home to catch Pardon the Interruption on ESPN so I guess that kid I could have saved is going to perish, oopsie! Ooh, is that a piece of overpriced chocolate on my mouth, my bad. What I always seem to do is smile while glancing away and saying something unintelligible, literally I either say something in gibberish or I say 'No, I'm good' as if I was being offered a free drink at a bar. So basically I'm saying to the cute charity worker, 'No, I'm not interested in poisoning myself with your free offer of being a good human being, I'm fine being the evil leech on life that I am'.

They did get me once the cute charity chicks, I couldn't resist one a year or so ago. Of course I had to get her number and I did. Oh come on leave me alone I had to do it! I never called her but you know, seems like I've gotten a number from almost any situation and back when I thought like that about meeting women it was a challenge that I wanted to meet and I did so nyeh. What makes that any more incredulous than a guy buying a girl a drink at a bar as a way to get her digits? At least I'm giving my money to a worthwhile cause in pursuit of a number. The way I see it they should have bars and clubs where you could only buy women charitable contributions. Hey, what's your name? Hi Cindy, well you seem really cool can I interest you in a $20 donation to The Fresh Air Fund at the bar? Better that than a Long Island Iced Tea to add to the inevitable puking and wailing of how men suck later in the evening for the babe.

Anyway that's all I got on charity. For the record I did not give to Haiti this week, instead I gave a gift of enrichment for a native youth to the Seva Foundation a beautiful organization where there is not an iota of doubt regarding their motives and purity.

As for my Detox, today was a much shinier day than yesterday although I still didn't accomplish much but my overall disposition was much more grounded and happier. I seem to have mirrored the trajectory of last week as it grew and got more intense with Thursday and Friday being the roughest days and then it mellowed out on the weekend.

I'm happy :)

Well, going to wrap this up and get to working on some material before I glide into bed, got a gig on Tuesday night. Glide into bed sounds so much more relaxing than the 'hit the sack' phrase people usually use no? What a violent castrating declaration, I'm going to hit the sack. I suppose I'd then wake up and pound the pavement while looking forward to coming home to choke my chicken before slamming some grub into my system.

Language has a sneaky way of programming you doesn't it?

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Twelve

2010-01-16T01:31:00.000-08:00

Well, getting in front of this screen to shimmy my fingers was a chore. I really didn't wanna post today but, hey, can't just relate the amazing stuff, gotta reveal the icky as well.

Honestly, I cannot remember when I've been so unproductive in a week. so unmotivated, every little task a monumental achievement. There's a brillo swirl of lines spinning above my head like Charlie Brown when he gets frustrated in the comic strip. Man. I thought after last night and the manifestation I had I'd start the day bounding out of bed but it was just the opposite.

It seems this week it takes me longer and longer to get my act together from when I arise in the morning. I'm guessing some of this can be attributed to the cleanse but all of it? Today was the worst day I've had in quite some time; sick to my stomach from the self inflicted scrapes on my spirit...it has taken its toll.

Don't even know what to do at this moment. I had some thoughts I wanted to get down on here about some topics and various thoughts but my internal hard drive feels like it's crashed with the files scattered to...ouch my heart. I thought this was the Kidney part dammit!

Thank God for tea. I mean that.

You know what's weird. I've been smelling like almonds. Really. I don't stink much at all, I rarely use deodorant and when I do it's the ultra non-toxic unscented kind with zero chemicals etc. But I've been smelling my pits lately and they smell like almonds or vanilla. You decipher that one for me I don't have the cognitive function right now.

You. Is there a you? A you reading this? I feel like I'm in a closet scribbling on the walls. Funny, I did that in a past life when my mother used to throw me in the closet to punish me for my mouth. Ohhh that tea is scrumptious, wow, best feeling of the day.

I'm sure these words will be scrutinized and pored over once my level of popular recognition and awareness explodes and I really don't care. I was considering taking down some of my more incendiary newsletters from this blog that included wild political rants and raves as well as a few pieces that were doused in misogyny but decided against it. I am a composite picture of all the viewpoints and attitudes that I have experienced through every moment in my life and I am not ashamed nor regretful over any of them. The beauty is knowing that whatever I believe today is completely open to being reinterpreted and shifted. That to me is the key.

Awww, just realized 'Someone to Watch over Me' is playing on Pandora for me, thanks God. Oooh, Coltrane 'Things ain't what they used to be' by Coltrane was before it, very cool. And now I get...Coming Home...hmm, some solo piano piece, quite tranquil and ahhhh relaxing.

Phew, wow, I'm feeling better already, I should have sat down here hours ago. I'm drinking the Green Tea they say to drink during the cleanse that they provide you with and I've barely touched the bags the past few weeks. Dude, follow the frikkin' instructions stop being so stubborn all the time, yeesh. Amel Larrieux track, love her voice...exhale...okay, how do I get here to start my day? I cannot go through another day like this, I have to start off on the right foot but meditation and yoga hasn't been doing the trick. Walk outside? Get some Vitamin D?

See problem is I'm so isolated these days, social life is all but non-existent, by my own design, purge purge purge, so when you're releasing your own crap energetically and physically it's a challenge to keep you and your space constantly clear and grounded. I just have to buckle down somehow. I'm just gonna keep typing, I really could give a rats ass who reads this at this point, it's really soothing right now.

Saw District 9 last night, that, was an insane movie...The End by The Beatles now, hmmm, okay...I loved the fact that they improv'd the entire film, that was really exciting to find out after watching it...oh snap the Beastie Boys snagged this riff for Paul's Boutique, wow they sliced a piece of everything for that album...in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make...aha, I get it, thanks again, you rock, oh yes you do a pooja poo.

Wow, tempted to delete everything I just splotched down on this screen, ah screw it, I don't have the energy to write a completely new post from scratch at this point, it's 2 and I gotta get my cute lil' bum to bed so I can give myself a fighting chance for Saturday.

Just laughed for no reason, okay, I'm back for the most part. I deserve it by Madonna...you know I'm just gonna sit here until the messages stop...

Many miles, many roads I have traveled
Fallen down on the way
Many hearts, many years have unraveled
Leading up to today

I have no regrets
There's nothing to forget
All the pain was worth it

Not running from the past
I tried to do what's best
I know that I deserve it

Damn Madge. Actually you know this is the only Madonna song I have in my iTunes.

Aite, I have some cords and chakras to deal with. Here's to a restful attack-free slumber and a purer connection from this moment to the beginning of my Saturns Day...Sweet Surrender by Sarah, it just doesn't stop :) You know what I'm gonna do, I'm going to get up tomorrow morning and watch some Loony Tunes cartoons while chowing down on some cereal and get happy really quickly. I bought the Loony Tunes Golden Collection Vol. 1 when the Yankees won the series, won a bet with a Phillies fan ;) So yeah, Saturday Morning cartoons and cereal. Difference now is my cereal is organic and mixed with Hemp Milk and not Honey Nut Cheerios and 2% but I will pretend that I'm playing hooky from Hebrew School, now if I can't get happy from that then I'm blasting Prince for 3 hours straight and I'm putting an end to this malaise and self-deprecating caca!!!

Bugs, Hemp Milk and Prince, Breakfast of Champions baby!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Eleven

2010-01-15T00:22:00.000-08:00

New Moon...You saw me meditating alone...manifesting a life...that had a babe of my own...

Loves me some New Moon action. No I don't mean that insipid drivel with teenie-boppin' bloodsuckers, I mean good ol' Diana in the sky. Tonight was one, 11:11, now that is some ultra-magnetic numerological yumminess.

Seriously, all this hoo-ha over the New Year is so silly to me. You can give yourself a fresh start every month by connecting to the cycles of the moon. The energy is ripe for putting out into the Universe exactly what you most deeply desire, but why would the powers that be want people creating the lives that they want every month when they can delude them into following some arbitrary calendar devised by some Pope way back in the day to heap all of their hopes and dreams on one shivering night amidst awful music and the everflowing rivers of hooch and moonshine (pun intended). A new year starting in the middle of winter, what a joke.

Anyway, it felt great, I feel great right now. Tough tough week for me as this cleanse took me out in a much more subtler way. I got so apathetic and lazy, I could not motivate myself no matter how much I vowed to shift in every moment. Ultimately I just surrendered, took it easy and forgave myself for not being as productive as I could have been.

You know...wow feeling hot all of a sudden, nice lil' confirmation...it just hit me that the shame that is associated with the kidneys, and how they're basically being healed right now, is being exhumed from my system and that the key to overcoming it was forgiving myself as I manifested in this new moon. I literally stood up at the end, more grounded than I had been in a week and took as deep a breath as I had taken in weeks, and how apropos that it was during the time my lungs were being cleansed. Yes, I can feel...wow sweating, hello there...feel it.

This country is all about go, go, go, do, do, do, and that's perfectly fine but where it misses the mark is by leaving out the most critical component to that equation which is be, be, be. Being who you are meant to be, what you wish to become, not just breaking down doors, going full tilt, letting your ego push your buttons. Sometimes you just need to take a breath and let go of it all and know, really know that you're not in control.

It's all about the timing and I should know a thing or two about timing being a Comedian or whatever it is you wanna call me. Had success come to me in my teens it would have left just as quickly. Had success come to me in my twenties I would have crashed and burned and would have allowed myself to be manipulated and led down a destructive path. Had success come to me in my early thirties I would have brought disease and unnecessary conflict into my life due to all of the anger and rebellion. Had it come any of the past three years the professional relationships I had cultivated would have compromised my creativity and artistic freedom for years. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Here. In this moment. Typing away in the middle of the night for reasons I am still not 100% clear on.

You are exactly where you are supposed to be whether you can accept that or not. Every single millisecond up until this supposed present moment in time has been an immaculate conception of your own design. Knowing that truth how could you possibly doubt or fear what is to come.

Whether conscious or not you are writing one amazing story for yourself in this lifetime. Sometimes you have to sit and brainstorm a sentence or cram in a plot device.

And sometimes...you just have to let the letters fall in front of you one by one and let the words form by themselves.

Namaste.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Ten

2010-01-14T01:13:00.000-08:00

It was like there was a big manhole cover ratcheted onto my forehead as lethargy seeped into my bones, its debilitating intent seeking out my marrow and ambition.

A bit dramatic but going on Day Three of the Kidney part of my Cleanse I really can describe no other overriding emotion or effect other than the sludge of torpor I've been mucking about in. Even this act of blogging is hard to focus on, I want to become a new letter in our alphabet, wedge myself into the keyboard of my laptop between the Z and the X and will it shut so that I may enter sleep mode.

I did get out of the house thank goodness, it was to finally see Avatar of which I had been goaded to go see by many of my friends with the constant sentiment of how I would love it due to its spirituality.

Saw it in the IMAX, first experience there, and well, I loved this film. Absolutely loved it. Wouldn't go so far as to say it's one of my favorite of all time but there were many moments that moved me and choked me up and the IMAX experience made it truly a magical ride. Real quickly, I thought Coraline which was also in 3D made better use of the 3D effect in comparison and that is a film I also enjoyed immensely.

Anyway, back to the Blue Brothas and Sistas. I believe this is an important film for the masses to digest contrary to what a lot of alternative information people are saying. I've read many interpretations and breakdowns by some who claim this film is full of Globalist Agenda and a blueprint for all kinds of tyrannical schemes that are coming down the pike for humanity. Look, I'm as hyper-sensitive as anybody out there when it comes to mass media and entertainment and the symbolism, subliminal messages and ideas that may not hit people on a conscious level if they're not aware of them to begin with. I can honestly say that this film contains no trace of anything that could be deeply construed as conspiratorial or deceptive in its message. This was no Pinocchio.

At the core, it's just a love story. On other levels its 'Dances with Wolves' with a dash of 'Pocohantas' thrown in for good measure. I cannot see how this can be interpreted as anything but Anti-War, Anti-Imperialism and Anti-Militarism. Clearly there are a lot of images and sequences that glorify the army mentality and comraderie but in the end I don't necessarily see how this is going to inspire scads of young people to join unless they were so enthralled by the prospect of operating a walking 100ft robot; hmm, don't put that past many. You know, they did air this ridiculous propaganda commercial for the National Guard before the film screened so I'll grant you that that was a blatant attack on the senses of the unsuspecting yutz majority but the film must have eventually wiped those implants away for the most part.

The only message I saw that echoed current ideologies for war was when the General blared 'We'll fight terror with terror' but even that came off as moronic and the average person could see no other viewpoint than how stupid that maxim is when the Natives are only reacting to their home being obliterated. I got a little antsy about the notion of consciousness what with the lead character transferring his crippled body into the wondrous new body of the N'aavi. I thought it was going to go down the stairwell of escaping one's current reality through virtual means to realize one's dreams but I don't think that became a focal point of anything other than a plot device to integrate him into his new world. Now the 'Alice in Wonderland' movie that's coming out, that's another story, can u say Mind Control and hypnotism? Oy. Keep me away from that one.

As for the Spirituality of the film and the theism of nature as Goddess, protector, compassionate co-inhabitant of life and death, yes, all for it. There were many offerings on the nature of the inter-connectedness between beings and the planet they co-exist with and I was touched on many levels by the imagery and commitment presented by the filmmakers in this regard. I wish I was at home watching this so I could have let go when my tears welled up. I release sound as well when that happens so in being a considerate moviegoer I held it in. Had I been with a date there would have been a lot of hand or thigh squeezing; actually there would have been a lot of that no matter how deep the film would have been :)

James Cameron has put a powerful film out into the cultural zeitgeist. He did it in a way that was conveniently palatable for mass consumption by bracketing it with aggressive war imagery along with technological wizardry. While many may choose to focus on those two aspects what will not be lost is the communication being made on a deeper level about the standard operating procedure of the Corporatocracy that currently rules this planet. If anything this movie is subversive in its nature, almost on par with 'V for Vendetta' which is one of my all-time faves.

Loved this movie.

The only annoying thing about the evening was the dude sitting next to me. What a Putz. Okay, when I was standing on line I noticed these three chicks who were together. One of them was reaallly cute. As my friend and I were searching for a place to sit that was not too close to the screen we somehow, not by my design, ended up in a row that she was sitting in with her friends. There were seats available right next to her but I chose to leave a seat between myself and her rather than sitting next to her which I normally would do.

Why did I not? Because I'm done. Done with approaching women just because I think they're hot or cute. Done with the whole pick-up game and nonsense of texting and chasing someone down for a rendezvous. I'm done. I've deleted a whole batch of numbers just recently of women who were wastes of my energy. Unless you move me or cause me to catch my breath when I see you, or hit me on a deeper level that speaks to something beyond the two of us, something fantastical written in the stars, a contract signed by us prior to us entering this plane again, then I'm not interested babe.

Okay, why the verbal diarrhea? Right, so, there's a seat between me and this cute girl. I get up to go to Starbucks so I can get a Tea to sneak into the theater. When I get back there's this young dude sitting next to the girl. I knew why he was there, it was cascading off of him. I saw the quick glances to the right, the slight edge of nerves, it was almost as if it was me like five or seven years ago. Anyway, so this guy is kinda fidgeting during the film, answering texts, a couple discontented sighs during the emotional/spiritual parts. Film ends and seconds later he's asking the girl what she thought and how he loved the movie and blah blah blah. Aite, good for you dude, throw that yang out there, handle it. Homeboy starts asking the 'where r u from' thing, flirty flirty yadda hotta hotta. Then...he gets up...and jets...uhhh...what? Dude. How are you NOT asking this girl for her number?!? Or something? We should blah blah or Facebook or e-mail or I'm performing or look how big my shlong/cash wad/car is, something! I had to endure you for almost three hours and you don't ask for digits! I could have gotten them for sh%ts and giggles just to show you how it's done. I'm not sure why I was perturbed by this but man, you did the work why not? It's like buying all the intricate ingredients to cook a special meal and then jumping in your car to go get fast food.

Anyway, Avatar, see it if you haven't.

Cute girl in the movie theater. Had I met you two months ago you would have had a higher form of entertainment for your Avatar experience instead of the Putz you ended up getting.

It's all in the timing.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Nine

2010-01-13T01:14:00.000-08:00

Phew...a bit spent.

I got hit today pretty hard by something that I know is related to this part of the cleanse. I was really tired yesterday and it continued today and then right around eight or so I got overwhelmed and had to rest. Just got dizzy. Plus I've been having a lot of mucous, I know not sexy news but neither was a can count. I experienced the same symptoms yesterday.

Really tired, now my head feels like it's in a metal box if that's the...dammit get off of my grounding cord you bastards...right up my left leg, errggh hold on...

Yeah, been tough to ground today as well, had some spells of being emotional, a spot of whimpering and a dollop of self-pity. All this so diametrically counter to the way I've been feeling for the most part especially at the end of last week which means this aspect of what I'm focusing my detox on is being affected.

Lungs, yeah, feeling a bit congested and hard to breathe at some points. It's also been about my bladder and my kidneys. Okay lemme break this down...

All of your organs are not only biological they are also connected to your emotional body as well as your spiritual self. For example, during the Colon Cleanse it was all about releasing old belief systems, ideas, ways of expressing myself, the past etc. which is why it had such a profound effect on me; it was long overdue and emancipating myself from those antiquated structures and thoughts was deeply impactful.

Then I moved on to the Liver and Gallbladder along with the Parasite cleanse. Now the liver is connected to your anger and I really didn't experience much of that at all especially with my focus and shock of parasites being expelled from my system. But this phase is different.

So the lungs contain emotions of depression and fear, you hold those in close to you by limiting the amount of breath you take in to your system so that's going on for me, I don't have a lot of that but I believe what's happening is that I'm breaking up what's holding myself back in there so I can inhale a completely new life, an expansive paradigm shift in my breath, my sound; yup.

Now the bladder/kidney purification system that's what's getting me all twisted up. Those organs hold emotions of isolation, shame, insecurities, thoughts of wanting to have done more than what you did which is a huge issue for me. I always dwell on what I could have done differently, 'Oh man I wish I did that on stage, I wish I said that to this girl, I wish I made that phone call, I wish I knew not to get involved with these people or that group and on and on and on. Whatever residue of that stuff is sunk in the caverns of my system they are being picked away to gleam in the light and it is causing me to experience them, hence me wanting to shut down and just sleep or coil up like a fetus to sigh and coo.

Bladder/Gallbladder also contains emotions in relation to the opposite sex and as much as I've healed that there's going to be pockets of roar and ouch that are going to be rustled up. Probably not the best week for me to go out on a date which is why I'm kinda holding off on contacting anyone.

Phew, yeah I'm whooped.

This wasn't the most funniest post, not by a long shot. Definitely a bit too much exposition but when you're not talking about your Batgirl fantasy in your fantasy Batmobile I guess there's going to be a bit of drop off in content.

I wanna say something cool or witty before I end this one but I just think I'm gonna climb into my new bed and use whatever energy I have left to protect myself before...'drifting on a sea of forgotten teardrops, on a lifeboat...sailing for your love...sailing home'.

Jimi.

Nuff said.

Ciao.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Eight

2010-01-12T01:42:00.000-08:00

Lungs, Kidneys & Bladder here I come!

Nothing really momentous out the gate except feeling really groggy and lethargic for most of the day and then rallying around Midnight to bounce around in One-Man Show mode; a mode I get in where I zip around my space as if I'm on stage but I never say anything I just visualize or twirl possible ideas and bits that I would perform in my head.

One might consider that mental masturbation yet I attribute my visualizing to be key to my art. I need to have the absolute confidence of knowing that I can see what I want to do happen before I can let it all go to be in the moment when I perform.

So no Wacko took me up on my offer to rip my Anti-Obama stickers off my car so I ended up doing it myself. That was more earth shattering of a flush than any poop I took today.

I'm still not 100% sold on my replacement stickers which came today. I love one of them for sure, it says 'Raising my Vibration Was an Inside Job'; definitely a winner. Love the allusion to another 'Inside Job' and the reflection of where I'm at. Plus it's purple, which kinda clashes with my red car but...hello, it's purple.

The other one is a split-level black and white sticker which says 'The Best Things in Life are not Things'. Now while I tend to believe that I do love things every now and then I'm just not ruled by them. It just has a gloss of being a bit hokey. Like something you'd get in a saccharin sweet e-mail that some Jesus nut would forward to you. Or you'd get it in a pamphlet as one of the bullet points in a talk at some spiritual convention from a guy with a pony-tail. It could totally be a chapter heading for a Deepak Chopra book who I can never take seriously anymore now that I saw Mike Myers' 'Love Guru'; awful film but now it always makes me chuckle at Deepak.

Maybe I got it because I'm making a comment about people's priorities and would want to impart that to someone while out and about. Maybe it's a way to affirm within myself how I'm devoted to creating romance in my life this year. Whatever the case may be, it feels a bit hypocritical at this juncture since I've been really vibing off of my new HDTV and PS3. I mean, they're not the best things in my life, but maybe I need to go on a retreat or chew on a burlap sack for a week before earning the right to say that. Wait a minute, I'm doing a frikkin' 3 week detox with no meat and low sugar intake! I had a chintzy 27 in big booty TV for 15 years! My Toaster Oven is so crusty I could put a miniature flag in the middle of it, take a picture, and it would look like the surface of the moon!

Things, it's just a matter of when you deserve them or need them not when you're catering to wants or the pressure to maintain this manufactured pace by industries clamoring for your doolers. Look, I'm gonna buy an expensive car one of these days. Hell yeah, I want that Electric Tesla car, think I don't?

And then, ooh my future wife and I are gonna argue over this one, wait, no we won't, she's gonna luv it! I want to ride around in a replica of the Batmobile from the TV Series of the Sixties. Oh yes I do and yes I will. You can get a kit to make one if I'm not mistaken for like ten grand or so. I figure I could get the entire she-bang hooked up for eighty to a hundred g's. Oh! And I want a lil feature that when I'm looking for my car I can click on a remote control button that will shoot a light into the sky with a bat signal that will have 'Verbal Warrior' in the middle of it. Oh yes I do and yes I will mofo!

Then I want the love of my life to dress up as Batgirl for me to swoop around town in my Verbalmobile. Yeah, I got the hots for Batgirl and Batgirl suits way more than the other standard Batman or Superhero females. Check it out - Wonder Woman: Too heroic, too much woman for me, Amazonian, nope. Catwoman: Too S&M. Princess Leia and the Gold Suit: Not a Star Wars Geek. Harley Quinn: Too Fetish. Poison Ivy: Too Burning Man. Super Girl: Too White bread.

Batgirl is perfect, why? Cuz she was a Librarian during the day! How hot is that? All into her books, intelligent, demure, discreet, then at night she gets into a skintight purple suit with a cute lil' yellow cape, straddles a motor-cycle and goes out to kick ass, now that is a woman! Alicia Silverstone was a boring Batgirl in the recent over-the-top Batman movies. Who could do it today? Hmmm, Anne Hathaway could rock it. Ooh you know who could knock it out the box if they went ethnic? Paula Garces, for sure. Anyway, future wifey, Batgirl outfit, purple and yellow style, hook it up ;)

Lastly, I'm killing the Can Count. Yes, I know, I can hear the collective groaning and teeth sucking out there but it lost its luster as it sort of plateaued into a median number of around 4 or 5; nothing drastic. It would've been much more exciting during the Colon Cleanse but now that I'm past the Parasites it's pointless.

It's 2:30 and I wanna go meditate still but I'm jonesin to play me some Arkham Asylum, no, too much stimulation before shut-eye. I'll just add in some visualization of my future and my very first Batmobile ride, 'til manana...

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Seven

2010-01-11T01:11:00.000-08:00

So one week is in the books.

Had I just done this part of the cleanse it would have been enough, Dayenu. Wow, again with the Passover reference. Next week I'm onto the Lungs, Kidneys and Bladder, the purifying organs. Clearly my purification will not be as mischievous and as easy on the eyes as Appollonia's Lake Minnetonka purification but I'm sure it'll deliver more laughs.

What a week, being sick as a dog, bursting into song, having revelations, shivering, getting Hebrew hymnals stuck in my head, getting a new bed, a new TV and being one kick ass Batman on my PS3...unnhh!

Plus quite psyched that I blogged every day this week no matter how tired or cranky I was. That type of discipline is gonna help me get back on track to working on my novel and molding my new one man show.

I was tired today, beat, run down, I thought it was another effect of the cleanse but upon further investigation it was a combination of that and some junk I picked up last night at that art party. My heart has been hurting all day, like in a heartbroken kind of way, and I didn't even ask anyone out or get rejected at all so I know it's some energy I picked up last night from someone. Gosh, being an empath has its pluses, minuses and responsibilities. I just cannot go out with having my protection up, even if I'm vibrating at a high frequency I have not developed the deep reprogramming to not subconsciously suck up other people's stuff yet, working on it, believe me you. I feel blessed to at least be aware at this point as to what's going on.

So I decided to finally remove my Anti-Obama Bumper Stickers from the back of my car. Time to let them go. I've made my point. Tough letting them go but it's not a jumpsuit I wanna slip into everytime I get in my car. There was an inherent aggression and finger pointing that came with driving around with that on no matter the mood I was in. It's almost impossible to not look in my back mirror when at a stop light to see the reaction if there was one. Man, lemme tell you, I've had it all, anger, appreciation, thumbs up, nasty looks, laughter, confusion, blank slackjawed stares, pointing. I've had people actually rip them off of my car...rip them off! Can you believe it? That's vandalism. They've been so programmed by this false demagogue that they are compelled to dig their fingers into the side of a car and scrape off a counterpoint to their belief system.

What are the stickers you may ask? One has Uncle Sam doing his iconic 'I want you' point but instead my sticker says 'Don't Trust Obama'...love that one. The other says 'I'll keep my money you keep the change, NoBama'. I also had a replica of the Shepherd Fairey 'Hope' image but mine said 'Nope', that got ripped off twice. Damn them! I wonder what these people looked like. Or if they had people with them who were cheering them on, 'Tear it off! Tear it off!' I'm surprised I never heard from any of them, my website verbalwarrior.com is on my car, I could totally see one of these nutsos stalking me down and e-mailing me something ridiculous, 'Missing something A$$h01e? Maybe it's your ignorance, I took it and crumpled it lol, yeah, screw u! I 'changed' your car Ha Ha!'

Anyway, this cleanse is assisting me in sooo much and now it's given me the release to let these messages go. I mean, really, the guy is so low on the Totem Pole as far as who makes the decisions for this country, why should I contribute to that wasteful focus and energy. I had a joke that I would make about Bush in my acts sometime, actually I only think I told it once. I basically said blaming Bush for the problems of this country is like blaming the bed for your partner's adulterous tryst...or something like that. Same goes for Opeanutbamaandjellyjamma, or the Corporate Speakerboxxx Below as I like to call him.

I ordered two new bumperstickers. I was going to keep them Political but opted for the clever spiritual type. I dunno, I'm still a lil' torn over them, like if I wanna use them or not, even though I already bought them over the web. We'll see, hmm...

Can Count: 4. Maybe my first one of tomorrow will finally rid myself of these Bumperstickers.

I'm ready to let them...hey! If my Sticker Stalker is out there why don't u...I'll park it on the side street of Whole Foods, u know with the meters, leave it there for an hour, low traffic volume...have at it! Yeah, I know, I gotta do this myself. Well if you're reading this, I'll be there Monday afternoon so this is your chance to prove how tight those Horse Blinders are stuck to the sides of your face.

Putz! Yeah you! C'mon, rip 'em! Rip 'em good!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Six

2010-01-10T02:04:00.000-08:00

Today was by far the best I've felt since beginning the Internal Cleanse, literally jumping around the apartment exuding beams of light. I mentioned this to a few people after completing the Colon Cleanse a few weeks ago but for the first time in my life I could honestly say I was genuinely happy about where I was in this moment, that my joy rested in the now and not in what was coming.

I've always known in my heart of hearts that my future was luminous but could never sit in the present circumstances and be deeply grateful for what I had. I knew conceptually that this was the bridge from one reality to the next but it was always lip service when I spoke of it, now it is an absolute truth and baby, what a relief it is to be rid of the angst and fear of the how it's going to come.

Also, my taste buds are radically shifting along with my sense of smell. I've definitely had a heightening of my senses as my psychic abilities have started to blossom over the past several years but this cleanse is having the most profound effect on my taste. I've always loved my sweets but now it's hard to eat some of them. I went and ordered a lil' salad thing from Aroma Cafe round the corner from me and as usual they threw in a free pastry concoction as they know I likes my pastries. Yet I could hardly eat it, it was sooo sweet, unbearable, I had to stop, plus other foods are now coming off as too salty and uniform in taste. My buds are highly attuned to juices and foods that really contain the best ingredients in them more than ever.

You know we are so bombarded as Humans when we enter this plane. Our senses never stand a chance, especially in this day and age where the orders from on high is to overwhelm the five senses through chemical additives, high decibel levels, lightning quick cuts and subliminals, all in the name to widen the gap between you and those senses that connect you to the spiritual more ethereal realms; the realms of your intuitive self and otherworldly incarnations.

Pulling another cord out of the back of my neck.

Went to a very cool gallery opening/party downtown tonight. Loved the vibe of the space and the crowd, splendiferous paintings and people. Here's my wish. Somehow someway I'd like to combine Hollywood crowds with Downtown artsy crowds and make an uber Hybrid of them both; especially for the women. I'm all for the earthy spiritual connected love vibration in females but...see...somethin's missing for me...it's what the Hollywood babes possess, that clean, smooth polished veneer of beauty, the attention to detail, fierce yet understated fashion, a sexiness that's confident and sometimes brash, very girly, God, I love girly girls, the Hollywood women seem to me to be more connected to their femininity as bizarre as that seems in relation to the Artsy Types who you would think would be more deeply invested in the creative expression of being a woman.

And the faces, this is going to sound really bad, pardon me, but, I, I love an exquisite beautiful face, it can captivate me in ways that sears the image onto my mind for eons. My experience, again mine, is that Artsy types seem to have bad skin more often than not. Not sure why, one would think that with the healthier lifestyle and diets they'd be radiant but, not so much. Maybe it's the facials or some amazing concealer but the chicks in Hollyland are cleaner, at least externally. See that's it! I want the external and internal beauties to have a pow-wow and join forces to become the Baddest Women on Planet Earth. That combination would be unstoppable. I meet one every now and then, boyfriend of course, so they're rare but my goodness, to be with one must be a dream.

So let's get these communities together somehow. Have a convention. Go to a Sweat Lodge. Start a Website. A Secret Society. An underground Yoga/Shopping/Meditation/Waxing Movement. If you need me to get a Benefit together for y'all I'd be happy to provide the Entertainment, you name it. That would be the sh%te.

Speaking of sh%te...

Can Count: 6. Now that's more like it!

Begone ye Buggers Begone!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Five

2010-01-09T01:16:00.000-08:00

I'm better!

Last night I could feel the yuck yuck slough off of me like a snakeskin and was feeling the giddiness that I had felt during most of the Colon Cleanse. Again, this was highlighted by me breaking into song. Remember, during my appropriations of the tinctures to this current cleanse I had begun singing Passover Songs.

Now, I can't stop singing 'All of Me'.

Have no idea why that popped into my head but it's on a loop and I am riffing on it, zinging in some harmonies and skatting on top of the melody non-stop. My falsetto is sounding really tight all of a sudden. Kill Parasites...Hit your High Notes! I've been boogieing all over the crib today but keeping it chill, still feelin' a bit whooped from having gone through what I've gone through the past 4 days and I know I've got a ways to go, no need to burn out just yet.

Alll of Meee....Why Not Take...You know that movie is one of my all-time faves also 'Put Edweena Back in Bowl!' I know everyone considers 'The Jerk' to be Steve Martin's quintessential movie but in my opinion his work in 'All of Me' is transcendental genius. His physical comedy work rivals anyone's in this film; simply brilliant and gut busting hilarious. I'm gonna have to go get this for my neewww telluhbiizshun.

Can Count: 3. Hmm...maybe I got nothin' left in me? I mean if I made the effort I probably could've read War & Peace as much as I've been to the Dubla Vay Say recently. I made it out to the gym today for a brief work-out and managed to weigh myself in the locker-room and man, I'm back down to 118 again. Before you don a mask of aghast disbelief, look, I've always weighed around 124-127 pounds, no more. The most I've ever weighed is 131 and that was after a week in New Orleans where I indulged in some hefty gastronomic fare. Lately I've been around the 122 range but to lose another 5 pounds or so is a little disconcerting...I know I know, listen if I could somehow take my approach to food and my general appetite and put it in a bottle to sell I'd be a Zillionaire.

So. HDTV. Wow. Just got one this week and the first time I turned it on I could hardly watch it. It was soooo bright! I literally was wincing and shielding my eyes during my first few viewings. I got a lil' dizzy and head-achy from it, could be the cleanse helpin' out there but Jeez, it's like going from the Rosy Palms to the Holy Vavoomski. I've been watching Telescreen on a 27in RCA fat box for the past 15 years and this 37in HiDef has left me speechless.

Okay, do I really need to see every blemish and shave bump on Bobby Flay's mug? I can see HD for Sports and even then I don't need to see every Curly Q in an NBA skirmish. I can concur that HD is relentless and unforgiving to those with bad skin, zoinks!

The Coup De Grace was hooking up my PS3 to it. It might be challenging to get me out the house for a bit. I...phew...ummmm, k, so, uhh, starting playing 'Batman: Arkham Asylum' and...wow...I uh...yeah, drooling, the graphics and...look I've played video games for decades and never in all of my experiences have I ever played a game that looks this fantastic and is sooo riveting and fun. I completely understand why kids do not go out and play and why goofy NFL players feel obliged to run in Slo-Mo in commercials to get kids out of the house. Now that I know what they're up against I cannot see any appeal in running in slo-mo with a bunch of Football Herbies when I can track down the Joker in HD.

This could get problematic. I'm going to have to up my discipline for my creativity time and exercise regimens or I could end up having my face suction-cupped to my new TV. I also watched my first Blu-Ray and was floored by the resolution. You know I had 'House of Flying Daggers' in my Netflix Queue for years. I always felt like a film like that should be watched in grand fashion. Well, I finally had it delivered and it was truly art in motion.

You might say 'Well it's about time you joined us all in the 21st Century Z Luv' I am not one that is quick on the uptake when it comes to technology, gadgets, cars, fashion and all that. I have never been materialistic and am loyal to what I have and own to a fault. I put extreme premiums on the foods I eat, my health and my dedication to my art and everything else boils to down to fun distractions but not absolute necessities. Of course I haven't included the whole Female thing into that equation and that is for sure an enormous piece of my time pie with most of that pie being stale crust and empty filling.

Aww, don't cry for me Argentina I'm really great and know that this is the year for me and romance to finally synch up. I can feel it in my marrow. I can also feel how annoyed I'm going to be when women just pour out of the woodwork and come at me non-stop once I commit to someone.

I've already written a 15 minute bit on it if you can believe it.

Hit it!

Take my lips...I want to lose them [I changed the next line a little]
Take my hips, I want you to abuse them ;) Woo Hoo!
Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry
How can I go on Baby Baby without You...Unnnh!!
You took the part that once was my heart
So why not take....

Why not take Sugar Sugar....

Why not take aalalalallllll of meeeee skoop de doop de doop dee doop da dahhhhhhhh!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Four

2010-01-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

Aite. I'm sick. Woke up with hangover symptoms and I never drink.

Going on 5 days now I must accept the fact that this is because of my cleanse and it's time to honor it and allow my body to purge itself. I can't even remember the last time I was feeling ill for more than 2-3 days, it must be over a decade if not more.

I had a hair appointment that I had to keep today so at least I'll look fabulous while being put through the ringer. It's around 75 in Hollywood today and I'm in a Run DMC hoodie curled up on my loveseat shivering like I'm a teen outside Madison Square Garden in freezing conditions waiting to purchase my Lovesexy Tour tickets.

The following may be a bit much for most of you so now's the time to click to another page in your browser but what I'm about to reveal about you and your health might be worth the nasty so I'll leave it up 2 u....

So.

Today is the day.

Can't be any more obvious.

No doubt mistaking them.

I am...

releasing parasites from my system.

Lots.

Yup, gnarly, but man get these buggers out! I won't describe them but suffice it to say one look at what's there and...I know, gnarly. Look, as I'm sure I've mentioned before I am one super healthy cat. I don't claim to know everything about health but I can confidently say that I am aware of many modalities and approaches to one's well being that the average person is not hip to. Yet understanding the role of parasites in one's systems and how they are so detrimental to your body, how they contribute to so much dis-ease, how we all have severe imbalances when it comes to good parasites and those that literally feed off of you, cause your cravings, corrode your organs; I am amazed that I have never included this powerful knowledge into my regimen.

I was speaking with someone from Blessed Herbs today (the place that I got these kits from to which I will eternally be grateful for) and she was telling me that parasitic infestations and infections are paramount to the degeneration of our bodies and that when super healthy people get ill all of a sudden or develop debilitating symptoms that confound most doctors, what is almost always overlooked is how parasites are major contributors to them. I found a really good article on parasites, might wanna check it out: Parasite Article

You don't have to be in a Third World country to get them, the foods we eat here in the states, the soils that are so poorly treated, the nutritional deficiencies in our food, the meat, oh my goodness did you hear, quoting Mike Adams:

"The hamburgers served at most fast food restaurants in America are made using cow parts that are injected with ammonia in order to kill all the pathogens and make it pass inspection with the USDA.

This is the meat that used to be sold off for dog food. But now, thanks to ammonia injections, it's now deemed by the USDA as "suitable for human consumption." Link to article And you wonder how you could get so junked up so easily? Even if you indulge just a little...

Can Count: 5. Parasite Count: Uhh, no, not going there.

I got better as the day progressed but fortunately for me I have been blessed not only with a new mattress but with a New HDTV! So I'll have something to entertain me during my exorcism...Woo Hoo! You might ask where I'm getting the funds for such purchases. Well, the answer is that I won my Fantasy Football League...for the Third Year in a Row! Yes. I rock. Thank you Sidney Rice. I love Fantasy Football, been in this league for 17 years with a bunch of dudes I've known since High School. Nobody in the history of the league has ever won two titles in a row and I won three; I've been very fortunate to say the least. While I love playing it I don't think I could ever be in a league with a bunch of strangers, part of the whole fun is talking smack to bros you know. Who cares if I beat some putz in Utah that I've never met

For some reason a lot people who know me always get bewildered when they find out I'm such a sports nut, not sure why. I suppose by my act and previous newsletters they must think I scour the web for alternative information all day long while texting flaky actress types. If I'm not doing that I'm in a yoga class or meditating amongst a sea of crystals and protected energy fields. Well, yes I do all of that stuff but I most definitely allow myself to escape with the distraction that is professional sports. I've been a die-hard Knicks, Yankees and Giants fan for my entire life.

Difference is now I won't be emotionally devastated if my team wins or loses as I used to be when I was younger. There won't be apartment rampages and week long scowl fests. That being said, I will collapse in a heap and bawl like a baby when the Knicks finally win a Championship if it ever does happen in my lifetime. And for the record I do not want LeBron James. Screw him, keep your raggedy ass in Cleveland homey, no need for you on my squad. I will not buy into this whole 'Oh Great Messiah Bron Bron, save my franchise', u can have him. He's another false prophet of success like Obamalamaadingalingdong. For real, what has he won? Skee-wat. I'd take Kobe over him any day of the week. Let Jigga get you to join the Nets in Brooklyn where he'll teach you all the Masonic hand symbols to use after you dunk the ball.

I'm telling u, Knicks are really not that bad, they have a solid core of talent, they just need a legit big-man and true floor leader. If they could somehow get Pat, Oak and Harp on this team they'd be title contenders.

And if I could somehow approach the Knicks City Dancers with the confidence and wisdom that I have now when it comes to women as opposed to when I knew some of them while living in the City over a decade ago, well, let's just say I'd have some pretty dope ass seats to the games ;)

I'm off to HDTV land, hit y'all up manana. Begone Buggers, Begone!

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Three

2010-01-07T01:38:00.000-08:00

Okay, quick follow-up on my new Ms. Wang bed.

First of all my evaluation of sleeping on it for the first time is a bit tainted since I was dealing with the Sinus Fairy all night and woke up in pain intermittently but from the neck down I felt really great so looking forward to the total experience.

Secondly, it must look bad that I bought a mattress named after an Asian chick what with all my recent material in my shows and Comedy Special on Asian chicks. I suppose you could call it a Freudian subconscious attempt of some sort, 'Ah now not he gets to toss and turn and lay on top of one of them every night'...oh c'mon.

Seriously, I wanted a latex mattress, it was the only one they had in the showroom, I had the sick coupon, end of story. My only regret is that I've kinda retired all of my Asian jokes and that would've been a dope punchline to end all of the Asian bits; suppose I could use it somehow, I'll make a note of it. There, another comedic note, added to what seems to be an insurmountable pile of material that I have yet to get to.

I think I'm over the whole Asian phase that I had. I did a purge of phone numbers recently focusing on ridding myself of numbers from useless women. I deleted about 15 or so and now have no Asian chicks that I wanna date in my phone. The last one I had was this cute tiny lil' thing from Iowa of all places that I met at a restaurant opening for a Mongolian BBQ in Silver Lake. Yeah, I dare you to beat that for random word associations in a sentence when it comes to meeting someone. I've got tons of those. As my new year starts I've whittled it down to 3 Latinas. I luuuuv Latinas, always have, that is a mainstay of mine from New York although you don't get many Puerto Ricans out in Los Angeles. Well, I did meet one...oh I'm not going into her, too painful.

So I'm not sick anymore, at least at this moment. Was feeling the icks for most of the day but got myself over to the mother lode of all Juice Bars in LA, Beverly Hills Juice Club on Beverly near Orlando. It's a white tiled sliver of a shop that's easy to miss but man their stuff is the real deal. One of my secrets to kickin' any sickness out of my system is getting their Apple Lemon Triple Ginger juice, works wonders. Not sure why I forgot to get it the two other times I was there since I got sick, I stocked up on their Organic Big 10 Veggie Juice and their Coconut Coconut Water which after each sip makes you make sounds like you're getting an amazing massage. I'm about 93% better and trust that Vera will hook me up for the other 7%.

Can Count: 5. Was 4 but during my blogging ... :) As I flipped the page on my dosage calendar it mentioned that during the Parasite Cleanse I really should be checking for them in my stool especially if I'm having averse reactions to it, feeling itchy or getting rashes. Now, I'm not sure if my getting sick was because of having parasites but I did have a lil' bit of the Nympho Inner Thigh Itchiness going on...hmmm...I'm gonna haveta call them tomorrow. Thing is if I do have them they recommend doing another round of the Parasite cleanse once I'm through.

People let me tell you, you probably have no idea what kind of crap is in your system, seriously. I am one of the healthiest people I know, if not the healthiest and I was shocked by what was coming out of me. To live in the country we live in and to eat the foods we eat no matter how vigilant you are it's inevitable your body is compromised, it's just a matter of the degree. The average person has around 40-50 feet of waste in their system that their body cannot get rid of. Read that again. Yeah, makes me look at people in a whole new light. Although I thought that it would be a great equalizer with beautiful women but, nah, didn't work. You've heard of that one right? You know, think of a girl that you really like or obsess over and picture her on the can and you'll realize she's just like everyone else. Well that never worked for me so I thought of this one girl and the 40-50 feet of waste thing and...no dice, "Really, your doctor said you actually have 100 feet of waste in you? Wow, well let's get a tea over at Urth and talk about it, pick you and your parasites up at 9?"

Funny thing I've been doing during this detox and I have no reason why. When I take the tinctures which come in these bottles with droppers I have to take 3mls which is basically three dropperfuls for each of the two tinctures for parasites. The first day I took them I counted the dropperfuls out in Hebrew, Ehad, Shtyim, Shalosh. I don't know why. By the 3rd day I'm now reciting a song from Passover when I do it. It's called Ehad Mee Yodea or in English 'Who knows One' It's a song they sing towards the end of the Seder and I think it goes up to 12, I could only get to 5 before forgetting the others, I believe that's in line with when I stopped singing when I was a kid 'No way I'm doing another 7 of these especially with the 'One lil' Goat' song on the way!'

But...why am I doing this? Did I poop out a parasite that has been preventing me from singing Jewish songs? Am I gonna break into a rousing rendition of Adon Olam while working out? I literally was belting out Ehad Mee Yodea in my car on my way home from the Juice Bar. Crap. Do I dare Google the 7 remaining verses? Maybe I ate some Goy Shiksa food a long time ago that caused me to stop practicing Judaism!

Can't wait to be sitting next to someone who complains that a song is stuck in their head 'You got that Rihanna song in your head? That's nothing. How'd you like to have Ehad Mee Yodea on an endless loop in your noodle! And not know what comes after 5!?!?'

Maybe I'll feel compelled to attend a Passover Seder this year which would be a first in quite some time. Thing is, I'd have to be granted a chunk of time to stand up and give my spiel over the Astrological/Allegorical roots of Passover and the 'Myth' of Moses. Plus I'd have to give a little Diatribe about my disgust with the whole 'Four Sons' thing. If you don't know about them just Google 'Four Sons Passover'. I always was annoyed that they called the 'Wicked Son' wicked. All he asked was 'What does this Service mean to you?' that's it. Seems like a reasonable question right? Definitely something I asked as a kid, like what's the point, why am I eating Aunt Bernice's dry turkey to commemorate Jews leaving Egypt? If they knew that one day they'd have to suffer through her cooking I think they might've weighed the pros and cons and stayed. So now I'm wicked? Seems to me to be the perfect way to dissuade kids from questioning authority and the reasons for the customs and to just accept the fact that you have to bring Matzah to school for 8 days and deal with it while all the Goys shove chocolate donuts in their mouth right in front of your face.

Yo, answer the f*%@in question. What. Does. This. Service. Mean. To. You.

Wow, getting a lil' undy crunched over all of this. You know the Liver and Gallbladder are where you store emotions of anger in your body, might be that I've got some of that being released from me as I cleanse those organs as well. Innnnnnteresting. I'll let you know if more Yid stuff starts coming out.

If I start craving Gefilte Fish I think I will have gone past the point of no return.

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day Two

2010-01-06T01:11:00.000-08:00

Is there anything worse than when you have to deal with the Sinus Volley when you go to sleep? You know of what I speak. When one half of your sinuses are clogged up causing immense pressure and pain as you sleep on one side, so you turn over and it just pours right into the other side. Then you try and outfox it by somehow getting it to teeter in the middle creating a second or two of relief. If you're emboldened by the rush of breathing through both nostrils you bolt up out of bed snatch a tissue and dare to blow it all out of your system. Problem with that is that the moment you lay back down the Sinus Fairy appears and pours a fresh batch of mucchi juice into your face before fluttering away. Oy. The Sinus Fairy makes Gremlins look like your favorite masseuse.

I did feel a whole lot better today but still plagued by the heel in the right side of my face. I was coughing a lot more and since starting this particular detox I am always thirsty no matter how much I drink and I've been downing more liquids than I ever have since I began this whole thing.

However a blessing looms on my horizon because...my new Bed arrived today! Whoopee! Oh my Dad would be proud of me...I bought it with a coupon. I could hear him jingling all around me as I slapped that bad boy on the salesman's desk. Got this shwanky Vera Wang Latex thingamabobbie for $125o instead of $2500 cuz yours truly did a lil' zippin round the ol' webaroo before descending upon the market and stumbled upon a Golden Virtual Clipping. Of course now I realize I need new pillows and sheets but ohhhh, the mattress is a joy. First one I've had in over a decade. I already posted the cheezy comment about who gets to join me on it on Facebook so I'll spare you the pathetic entreatment for intimacy.

Had a lil' embarrassing moment as the dudes delivering it were taking away my old mattress. I totally forgot that underneath my bed I had stashed this plastic, uhhh, hmm, how to describe it? It's like a red plastic riding crop but at the end of it is a cut-out of a hand which is supposed to be used to thwack your loved one on his or her buttocks. I had never used the damned thing. I remember buying it along with some other silly sex stuff for a scene that I did in an acting class about five years ago where my character was this crazy dude dealing with this prostitute or something. I dunno. I remember that one of the things I also bought was a pacifier with a tit for the sucker; yeah I threw that one out. But apparently I decided to keep this one and stashed it away under my bed for some reason. I suppose if the moment had presented itself over the years I would have told my rumpus bumpus babe that I was engaging to wait one second as I mischievously dipped below my bed to procure my naughty slapsie instrument "So, u think I'm Vanilla huh?" Whapoooosh! Omigod Issac I didn't....Whapooossh Whapooooshhh!!

Sigh...yeah never happened. I did date this chick about 4 years ago who was all into that hurt me beat me thing but either I did not deem it to be appropriate to unveil my Red Handed Tushy Thwacker to her or I felt that if I did all hell would break loose and I would be the recipient instead; I'm gonna go with the latter. Yeah, smack you around before sex? Not a turn on. More like a workout. If you want me to beat you up and strangle you at least hide my Prince Bootleg CD's and say you destroyed them or wear a Michael Jordan jersey to bed but for me to get all rough and tough for no reason? Not my style, Sade not De Sade. So, yeah, very nonchalantly kicked it to the side this morning as if it were nothing more than a backscratcher. I can only imagine the two ese's in the van right after clinking cervezas and laughing at the maricon with the slapping fetish.

Can Count: 4. You scrolled down, I knew you would! You cannot deny your growing infatuation with my can count, it's okay, submit. Yeah, lil' less than yesterday although my food intake is dropping little by little. Since I'm also in the middle of a parasite cleanse the kit says that I should keep an eye out for unwanted visitors in my stool. Yeah, I get enough unwanted visitors in my energy field that I have to kick out on a regular basis so not about to get a magnifying glass for this. If I have them then they'll be rooted out and I'm sure I'll feel something of which new adjectives will pour through my thoughts to describe the euphoria.

Had a lil' epiphany just a few hours ago: I'm gonna be moving soon. I've thought about it for the past few months as a 'That would be nice' but tonight it hit me that it's a done deal, somehow someway I will be in a new place by the summertime. It is definitely time. I've lived in the same place for over 10 years and while I do love it it's time for a change. I had the Salvation Army come today to pick up this piece of furniture and a coupla bags of clothes and one of the neighbors apparently saw this and told my neighbors who then knocked on my door asking if I was moving to which my mind immediately replied yes but my voice replied no. I would love to actually put a down payment to buy a place and I'm not ruling that out but right now I'm nowhere close to being able to afford the money for that but I will continue to visualize my new space and allow the Universe to work its magic behind the scenes for me as it always does.

Man, I'm beat, the Sinus Fairy is getting impatient with me, 'Damn thee thou Pixie of Pain! Thou mayest inflict thy curious affliction 'pon my regal pate yet Vera Wang shall heroically rescue me from the fangs of thy restless playground!'

You know I just realized my mattress is named after an Asian Chick. It just never ends does it?

The Internal Eternal Detox - Day One

2010-01-05T01:16:00.000-08:00

Damn that blinking cursor! Phew, okay well, words, good deal. Nice job out of my synapses firing to produce a brainwave to dictate my fingers to poke, jab and cajole a bunch of white plastic buttons to paint a barren screen. Well, if that's how it has to start so be it. Who said the start of something has to be epic and memorable. There will be no John Williams conducted symphony to begin my journey nor a sustained chord from an organ played by Dr. Fink of the Revolution to sound a beacon to the masses; just some self-indulgent finger fiddling.

Good enough. Here we go.

I am not feeling well at all...ooh an Angel just flew in...wait, Angel? Hiding, hmmm, gonna have to look at that later. Anyway, yes, sick, nooo bueno. I never get sick...ever. Maybe I'll feel a lil' scratch in my throat every now and then or a twinge of ickiness or ache here and there but it is swiftly expelled as an illegitimate bastard symptom reduced to begging on the street for someone who eats fast food. So why am I sick?

See, I began this wam bam humdinger of a detox a coupla weeks ago. Profound experience. In fact I considered it the greatest thing I did all of last year and have vowed to do it every year for the rest of my days on this planet. It was the colon/digestive cleanse from blessedherbs.com that I'd been meaning to do for sometime but never had the resolve to buckle down and do it. Man lemme tell u, I was on the can non-stop and laughing like a Hyena while doing it; I know a visual you'd be waiting to drop into your thoughts for weeks if not months and now you've been provided it...glad to be of assistance.

At any rate, after the 5 day liquid fast that ended the cleanse I got a day to slowly reintroduce food and then 4 days off to just eat whatever. Oh my goodness did that Estancia Grass Fed Beef Burger from 8 oz on Melrose tasted like sex in my mouth. So after that I had 3 days to prep for what I just began today, the Internal cleanse which begins with my Liver and Gallbladder and adds in a Parasite cleanse to boot. I got sick the day before I started it. Now few possible reasons: One. I got so clean inside that eating the food that I ate, healthy as f*ck but included a gorging on sweets on NYE, caused a slew of toxins to release in my shiny new system hence getting sick to expel them. Two. My body intuitively knew that it was going to have a much more intense experience this time around and shut down so as to possibly postpone the inevitable. Three. I had a gig tonight and my body was trying to get out of it so it could be fully invested in my cleanse. I vote for all three.

Can Count: 6. Let's take a moment at this juncture to note the amount of times the Verbal Warrior went, mozied, rushed or crawled to the can due to the Detox. Today was 6. In comparison I was canned upwards of 15-20 times during the Colon cleanse. Yes, you crave that stat, you will notate that stat in a secret txt file on your boxes and hide it where you hide your porn. I will not judge you but when we pass on the street you will knowingly glance at my buttocks and we will jubilantly exhale simultaneously.

So yeah, had a gig tonight, sick as a dog, over at the Electric Lodge in Venice, Max 10 on Mondays where anything goes for 10 minutes and 10 performers. Have done it 3 times prior this being my fourth and I had a blast as always. I sooo love being able to just let er rip on a stage with no expectations of what's about to come next. Their stage is quite large relatively speaking to Comedy Club stages, and there's no microphone so I'm truly free to be me as raw as...hmm, sushi is way too cliche, lemme get back to this metaphor.

Do Asian Women Bake? Just a thought I had on the way to the Gig. I mean, u see all ethnicity's bake pastries, cookies, cakes and pies but I don't think you can say the same for Asian women no? They're more prone to picking up some platters or beverages or having their events catered and for some reason they always have exquisite napkins; the silk kind or something that you hesitate for a split second before wiping your mouth 'Wait is this a Kerchief or Mini-Cape to put in front of my mouth to seduce someone like I'm a Bullfighter?' Seriously, I think Asian chicks may make you a Mochi Ice Cream surrounded by Soy Paper but never a batch of warm chocolate chip cookies and if you wanna prove me wrong then my cup of tea awaits your sugar concoction to shift my perception of your culinary acumen.

The day is over and I'm as sick as I was when I started which is even more of a milestone since the rare times that I am sick I knock it out with a killer regimen of herbs, tonics and vitamins so something's going on. I went to Erewhon on Beverly today to get their Immunity Shot and this amazing Tea filled with all kinds of goodness that this sweet girl from New Jersey made for me. What a cool person to chat with as my body was supposedly healing. Always nice to talk to someone about crystals, white light, astrology and such and then have them mention how they thought they were a freak by knowing about all this stuff 'No, I'm a freak too, Woo Hoo!' I also purchased the 'Wow that's a bit too healthy for a sandwich' meal and a serious helping of Carrot Ginger soup. Throw in my meditation and other ways and means and by 8 I figured to be Bing Bing Bing Ricochet Rabbit for my gig...alas, I was a Whooping Cough Crane. Of course I was bouncing off the walls and going full tilt while onstage but oof I am feeling it.

Oh! They had all these Angel Card decks at the Tonic Bar and I shuffled one while asking specifically about a girl and I pulled the card of the Angel that said he was there to assist me to bring love into my life and that the energy of a love relationship is all around me. Do NOT sweat my Angel Card skills. If Vegas had an Angel Card table I would clean up!

I am schnurfly, achy, kvetchy and it feels like a fat chick is sitting on my sinuses, must retire for the night. Must muster some resolve to check that energy whip that just flew in here...sigh...

I will do my best to report daily on my progress.

An earthly Angel inspired me to do this and I am grateful to God for using her thoughts as a way to get me tap tap tapping away. Whether a continent of souls or a solitary being takes anything away from the next three weeks...

I will be here for you...doing the Can Can.

Search Light

2009-10-24T02:07:00.000-07:00

I am in a rut.

My forehead has been having a love affair with the palm of my hand.

My professional life in neutral or park, my romantic life non-existent, a droplet of confusion drifting in a sea of indifferent females, my spiritual life being avoided for I realize how powerful I can truly be and it’s a bit daunting to say the least.

It’s pretty easy to realize you’re a Super Hero. You become aware of your super powers and it’s exciting at first but then comes the need for discipline and responsibility and the thrill gives way to obligation. Then once the ego gets a hold of it good luck in trying to wrest it back from its sinewy fingers. But even through all of that, it’s still the easy part.

What gets glossed over in all the stories about Superheroes is the invention and creative pursuit of one’s costume. Cliched montages are the rule of the day as somehow these magical fabrics, buckles, belts, boots and perfectly sewn cowls and capes appear out of nowhere; as if Korea Town has a weekly sale on hero gear. I also never knew Heros were such adept seamsters and seamstresses. Nevertheless, it’s the Hero’s costume that ultimately bridges the gap between the world of one’s mind to the world of collective recognition, ridicule, expectations and inevitable duress.

Just because you can belt out a high C in the shower doesn’t mean you’re ready for Simon Cowell, you’ve got some hemming, mending and stitching to do.

I suppose some just hurl themselves with reckless abandon onto their Kenmore 15358 and zip zap zoop away as their skintight garments and accoutrements take shape. If you are that person I commend you. Me personally, I see the outfit in my thoughts very clearly but do not seem to have the gumption to detail its patterns believing that at some point in the future a Korean is destined to drop into my lap with shimmering purple velvet and some knitting needles.

So I am left to walk amongst the mortals without my super garb on foolishly wondering why nobody notices my heroic countenance and innate omnipotence. Then when impostors stride before the masses in leaps and bounds while being regaled as saviors and harbingers of wisdom it only adds to the maddening reality of those who have yet to step into the light as their fateful character.

Korean with some knitting needles...any day now...ho hum...aw c’mon...but...sigh...

They tell me to keep writing I tell them I know. They tell me to keep creating and I tell them I’m ready to take down the Jokers, why won’t they let me help. They tell me I’m not ready. I grit my teeth and grumble in dissent. They laugh. My tail splits the atmosphere in defiance. They say we told you so and tickle my ear. I laugh and resent the fact that I did.

Files from a desktop in the distance twinkle and beckon me with the joy of discovering words that latch onto each other like a bunch of colorful legos from my childhood. I rise and they cheer. Moments later the words are wrapping themselves around my toes, weaving themselves into a complex sacred geometrical cross-stitch pattern that I’ve never recognized.

I’m too busy frittering away at the letter combos to notice their progress. Somewhere off in the distance gears creak and whine as they slowly move my searchlight into position. Its light source not truly defined yet and its lens not fully attached; my Symbol materializing in harmony with the words around my feet.

They’re waiting for me to get out of my way so they can let me turn it on myself.

No Witty Title Comes to Mind

2009-10-02T00:17:00.001-07:00

Just came back from an odd stand-up gig I did in Silverlake. It was at this barbershop cum art gallery where they set up all these chairs and called the event Local Culture.

I was one of four artists that performed. As I am wont to do I always find the space where I can be by myself and just scribble on my notes and breathe. I do not like to be out with the huddling masses chatting away before I perform which is why I abhor hosting so much; one has to be so personable and greet everyone...not my thing when I wanna bring the ha ha. At a Bar Mitzvah or as a Best Man sure, I'll hook it up, lovely.

Anyway, I found this lil' nook where they wash the hair at this salon cum gallery cum comedy spot...sigh...I will look back one day and realize how far I've come from the days when my green room was shared with rinsing sinks and shampoo ledges.

So the show goes on, a cellist and guitarist who sings sounded pretty decent then some Mexican poet who read his work with as much gusto as a saggy sack of cotton balls dunked in a vat of thick hair styling gel. Then they showed 4 music videos or something, mind you I'm seeing none of this since I'm hanging with the faucets then they announce me and say something non-inspirational and out I go.

I'm not gonna detail the show, it went fine, got some good laughs, some awkward moments, some moments that surprised me and excited me and some that I wish I had back but overall a solid showing by yours truly, I left nothing on the barbershop floor.

I always get so absurdly lonely after anytime I perform. I can absolutely understand why comedians are drawn to drinking, drugs and wanton sex. Unless you have a leather skinned exterior and a titanium heart you are bound to feel a bit empty and spent after a comedy gig. If you wish to be successful onstage you must reveal a piece of yourself; a piece that you may not want a bunch of strangers to see but in service of your art and in the knowledge that a successful show hinges on your ability to courageously expose your foibles insecurities and shortcomings you have no choice but to peel away at your own personal artichoke.

So here I am, jabbing at my keyboard instead of drinking smoking toking poking snorting or banging. I could care less about all of those verbs although I definitely wouldn't mind the banging part, but see through its temporary fix as well. Having never been with anybody at any point in my life that I was seeing when I performed I can honestly say I do not know what it feels like to have someone jump into your arms after a show and shower you with kisses; looking forward to that one.

I haven't used this blog very much since transferring all of my newsletters over and proclaiming how this would be my new forum for my thoughts and writing. At this hour it felt like it's the only thing I had to channel some energy into before meditating and bed so thank you blogosphere for that.

I have nothing poignant to say or to end with; no grave aphorism or witty bon mot to tide whoever may happen upon this wayward construction of letters.

I do feel bit better though.

Yes.

Better.

A Sprinkled Infusion of Mystery

2009-05-21T02:43:00.000-07:00

You can choose to smoke your denial cigarettes for as long you want. Let the ashes of your obstinate rebukes flutter to the pavement along with my desire to convince you otherwise.

I wish nothing more for you than to breathe, to breathe in that beautiful inhalation of freedom from the thatched ceilings imposed upon you since your birth from those who deny you your true nature of being born from other galaxies and existing in other realms.

I have probed through the astral mines of the in-betweens and outer rims with crystalline forms capturing the dash dot dots of codes that patter listlessly on the ephemeral landscapes of my projection; the stray strand of a vanilla whisker jerks its electrical queries onto the blur.

Conjoining with zero points and cosmic switchboards I am dialed into the truth, it sears the parchment of my scrolls, a phantom baring its soul, scarlet letters that need no necklines to impact their form upon the masses.

I can only hope to regurgitate it into the willing beaks of those who deem flight to be a viable option in their journey to the center of their mirth. May I be so bold as to recommend a steady diet of holographic murmurs along with a strict regimen of elegant curios culled from the dreams of your ancestral heritage?

Let me be the subliminal suggestion that hides behind the screens of your daily excavations. Allow me to place shimmering galactic trinkets on your path to innocently stumble upon; I will not judge you when you act astonished by your discovery.

Eyelashes stroke at the illusion of reality.

Fingerprints scoop up photons in corrugated corridors of flesh.

Tingles congregate on reservoirs of auditory canals.

The fast forward on the rewind machine has stopped the pause of your recording ejecting you from the stage of your play...

I can only trust that this will at long last turn your power on for good.

A Delicate Dance of Taste

2009-05-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, so admittedly I haven’t figured out this whole blog thing. After transferring over my entire newsletter archive back in January I’ve posted once and that was after a Prince concert where I was zooted on notes from another galaxy.

I’ve had some half-assed attempts at some posts: a commentary on the whole shenanigans of the bail-out, a recap of a detox I went through where I was speaking in tongues for the first day and hallucinating that the cast of A Midsummer Nights Dream was parading through my apartment; finally there was an aborted rant on the absurdity of this whole swine flu pandemic. None of them made it to this space, their crumpled up possibilities strewn to a heap of ‘Fuggedaboutit’ that always exists on the periphery of every writer’s existence.

I feel like I’m standing in a sliver of a shadow in a nightclub peering from the depths of anonymity at a beautiful woman as my possible approaches duel each other to the death only to end up wiped out by their indecisive self-hatred. This is so unlike me, I am not one to bite my own tongue or shackle my fingers away from writhing in orgasmic purpose in deference to the never-ending thoughts churning through the linguini of my mind.

I suppose I feel a bit captured, staring at walls that don’t exist, a lonely camper stranded on a bunk-bed in the middle of Parents Day not sure how to take advantage of the silence. I often voyage through the pavements of my impetuous Wood in the pee wee hours of the morn feeling as if I’ve missed all the camp activities for the day and can only dance on the fields as a solitary pantomime interpreting the humans for our invisible campmates.

Perhaps I can’t agree on the contractual dedication of this empty saturation due to obligations borne from a canned confluence of my character.

My past keeps crashing up against the bumper of my current self and yet I’ve been choosing to ignore its repeated attempts to have me pull over and exchange contact information, somehow someway I just want to make it to the exit without the drama. Though it would mean emerging from the off-ramp with a sullied abused vehicle I seem to be willing to accept the wounds so long as I’m rid of the raging lunatic that I’ve embodied in the many sorties and treks of my personal Genesis.

To varying degrees we all resist who we are, who we were and who we are meant to become and in many instances we measure an equal cup of each for a hyperbolic recipe of our own perceived identity.

I have been delving into the myriad of menus I’ve dreamed up for the past decade and some of the offerings are providing me with gastric distress; gurgling acidic vitriol spewed and stewed in crockpots of fearful immaturity. Snorting at the nausea will only excite the bubbling pangs of denial, no it must soothed with the forgiving salve of acceptance. The cravings that forced the toxic ingestion are voids of ever changing shapes and we must experiment with what configuration is meant to mold into our evolving helix.

My art has been scattered and squeezed into endless nooks of procrastination. Too voluminous to process in earth time it has taken it upon itself to dive into parallel realities ambushing vibrations with their uncooked unfettered jabs and comedic inquiries. Ashamedly I have been refusing to police their reckless behavior, rather choosing to birth more children into the fray adding to the spiraling undisciplined corkscrew of my divine purpose.

Yet for the past couple of weeks slowly, bit by bit, zinger by zinger, tickle by tickle, I have been calling them all back to me. As the wand ricochets off the sides of the triangle and the call to supper echoes through my collective creativity I am witnessing every aspect and every tense of what I am come to the table. Simply put they have all been hungering for the same meal...a heaping helping of my voice.

I’m not sure how the negotiations will proceed for the rights to jiggle in this arena. Heretofore it’s been the stubbornness of both parties that’s prevented the guests from coming over for din din. I do know that this ‘Thought Spatter’ is part of a balanced diet for Verbal Warriors and I will be looking to incorporate its fare into my daily joy on a more consistent basis. As far as how this nourishes those of you who have braved through this wordplay to peek into the filaments of my psyche? Well...

I have donned my toque and have grounded myself into the official streamlining, reinventing and imagining of nouvelle cuisines from personal ingredients that tower above my empty crockery; all for your delicate tastebuds.

Hmmm...how about a pinch of this...

Purple Majesty

2009-02-26T01:06:00.001-08:00

My ears are still ringing, my head buzzin, my skin still glistening and my face still plastered with a smile that looks to be a product of a million happy endings...I just saw Prince perform.

Wow. It's 5:00am Monday morning and there's no way I'm gonna be able to focus myself into writing right now so I'm gonna blast out everything I can remember from the set-list so I don't forget it and I'll get back to this at another moment when language makes sense again.

Just know that if you hovered above me as I sleep this morning it'll look like I've just been slain by the Joker; life is a beautiful thing...so beautiful...g'nite!

Okay I've finally touched down three plus days later...man, it all happened so quickly. Sunday afternoon, day of the Oscars, got the text from the one and only Denise with the hookup and the 4 double uno, texts, jeez, seriously I would not be surprised to hear that people are saying their vows to each other on their wedding day via texting.

Didn't really hit me for a while that I was going to see him, it had been a coupla years, I've been kinda mad at him what with all the Jehovah stuff (see Purple Pain in sidebar for previous Prince ranting). Got my 'quasi-pseudo-not-really- date' with a beautiful female friend and we were off, looking scintillating together to say the least.

Cut to me standing five feet away from him the whole night as he ripped through a jam-packed hell-blazing soul-jarring set. I hadn't been this close to him since Roseland NYC in 97 or 98 so this was a real transcendent experience. Trust me, when his guitar wails and you can sense his fingers coaxing the notes out of GOD you can't help but feel moved on many levels. This was the about the 2oth time I've seen him and the first time he wasn't wearing heels. He had on some white sneakers with the red lights that go off when you walk; I know, awwww. Here was his set-list in no particular order:

Controversy, Glamorous Life, Cream, Miss You - The Stones, Honky Tonk Woman, Come Together - Beatles, The Bird, Jungle Love, Brown Skin by India Arie (by far the Sexiest song of the night, thank u Cheryl), Shhh...Break it Down, I Feel 4 U, Crimson & Clover/Wild Thing (Amazing), When will We be Paid, Hollywood Swingin', Play that Funky Music White Boy (yes I know) and 7; I know I'm missing some.

After one of the songs Cheryl turned to me and mentioned that it was like a double shot of heroin and I would have had to concurred had I knew what that was like but in some ways this man's music and his shows have always been my drug of choice. I've never done the drink, smoke, pot, drugs, tabs, E thing, never appealed to me, I always preferred chatting to an exciting woman over all that nonsense. But if I was forced by our local jackboot police thugs to confess to my dedicated opiate it would have to be the performances of His Royal Badness.

Yeah, cuz I was all kinds of high...

Sunday night...I forgot everything: Who I was, what I had 2 do, what I owed, what I was due, where I was and what chakras needed cleaning. I just knew I wanted to keep dancing, singing and screaming at the top of my lungs like a lil' kid. Mr. Eckhart Tolle probably got his inspiration for his famous book from being at a Prince gig because I am always in the now and in the moment at his experiences. I become so present that I barely remember what happened once it's over; kinda like my most perfect times on stage or during a very rare blissful and spiritual sexual connection.

Also, I deeply love the fact that the crowd is so incredibly diverse at every Prince show. Here's a breakdown of the people just standing around me:

Older heavyset light skinned Black guy in a suit who mouthed all the lyrics, much older gray-haired white woman behind me who was always smiling, portly frizzy-hair Jew chick with glasses, short Butch Lesbian in jeans and white t-shirt, tall skinny Latina with suffocating perfume, shorter Latina con mucho attitude y mucho make-up, bald dark older Black dude who couldn't stop singing and dancing, short Asian woman in front of me who was the sweetest person there, she said so many nice things to Cheryl and I; thank you Ann...Latino dude in a ponytail, short cute blonde chick with large tetas in a dress from Robertson Blvd. with her Valley friend, slick mulatto brotha in a dapper jacket with a beautiful dark skinned Sistah in a slamming dress, weird silent androgynous white chick, tall muscular scruffy Middle-Eastern dude on crutches (yes crutches), long haired Italian musician dude with his blonde haired male friend from Sweden and their cute female friend from Brazil. Then there was me, the freaky haired Israeli Jersey boy in the sexy purple with his hot French-American friend in a ridiculously hot black fringe top...sizzlin ;)

Where else are you gonna find that? The DMV? Whole Foods? Central Casting?

At any rate, I'm back and there's no hangover or pain associated with the come down. Just a renewed sense of focus and appreciation for all that I want to do with my life. Suffice it to say I'm happy with my galactic soul brother again and am looking forward to his new musical offering Lotus Flow3r.

He & I still get to have a sit down one of these days 'Aw c'mon man, just once, play 'Head' just once more, Jesus would most definitely approve'.

Birth of the Blog

2009-02-12T02:00:00.000-08:00

I have drawn a line in the sand...again.

It's a Scorpio thing. It's what we do. The constant need or imposition of destroying or being destroyed. If we can't do it to ourselves we'll make sure someone else does so we can engage in our favorite pastime: The Creation of Something New.

We rise out of the ashes in the ultimate hope that we will be shot down from our apex knowing full well that the descent will be shorter and shorter each time.

Behold! My words, thoughts, feelings, ideas and beliefs below me and to the side of me in this blog. There are many I am proud of and many that I am not but none that I regret for they have all sculpted me to be the being that I am today.

I am no longer a Verbal Assassin as I was ten years ago but a Verbal Warrior. I am no longer a writer who uses an abundance of curse words in my writing (although my stand-up act still loves them) but a writer who delights in handpicking morsels of rare letter combinations from the Universe. I am no longer a man who can call a woman a bitch for it makes me nauseous to the core but a man who calls her beautiful, sweetie, darling, guapa, cherie and one day my love. I will not dishonor my ancestors again.

For I have entered the wide open arena of my heart and it can be a frightening solitary place to stand what with so much space around you and so much opportunity to be assailed by the envy and cowardice of those who bristle at your exposed vulnerability.

Yet I will not be moved. For this is where life is meant to be lived, the joy, pain, anticipation, defeat and victory. It has not been easy to remain in this expansive battleground. I have been jostled and violently punched square in my chest by the certain actions and confusion of people who know not how to deal with someone who expresses himself so truthfully and unconditionally.

But this, this is the Way of the Warrior. A way that eschews the use of hardened armour and sharpened weapons and opts for naked devotion. Anyone can hide behind their shields while anonymously slinging their barbs at the objects of their resentment. Yet our Heroes are those who choose to peel away the layers so that their light and purpose on this planet is fully exposed.

My Heart is Open. My Vision Clear. My Spirit Eternal...

...And my jokes ready to pierce through the toughest of lies.

Now get out the way and gimme that Mic!