And the word is not 'fudge' ...

A dear friend of mine sent me this so I thought I'd share with you all.

Blessings,

Julian

When it's okay to use the ' F ' word ...

Wear Sunscreen

Baz Luhrmann, the director of "Romeo & Juliet", "Strictly Ballroom", and "Moulin Rouge", has created a spoken word poem called 'Wear Sunscreen', and it's filled with good advice.

"Some of the most interesting 40 year olds still don't ... "



I am cleaning my shabby studio & trying harder. My clock was reset so I am graduating in May after all. I am going to try reaching my dreams before time runs out and I am left with nothing more than teaching. And I know I'll have to let my opprotunity to be coarse, vulgar & obscene go once and for all.

Here are the words and hopefully they'll inspire you as much as I hope they'll inspire me.

Blessings,


Julian

**************

"Everybody is free to wear sunscreen"

Lyrics by Baz Luhrman

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97,

Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis or reliable then my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice....now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, nevermind, you won't understand the power and
beauty of your youth until they've faded, but trust me in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of
yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind: the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts; don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive; forget the insults. (if you succeed in doing this, tell me how).

Keep your old love letters; throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of Calcium. Be kind to your knees -- you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40; maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body: use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or what other people think of it; it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance...even if you have no where to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions (even if you don't follow them).

Do not read beauty magazines; they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents; you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings: they're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but what a precious few should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps and geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old; and when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse, but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you are 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia; dispensing it is a way of wishing the past from the disposal - wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me, I'm the sunscreen.

http://www.icdc.com/~dnice/sunscreen.html

Daddy vs. Daddy

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The Unnamed Dog

"If you name it you'll want to keep it." ~ Old Saying About Pets

I always walk my dog in the mornings, and for the last few mornings, a few blocks from my shabby apartment and in the same spot along a patch of scrub brush, a rotted tree, and ancient barbed wire I found him. He sat there pleasantly, smiling softly, and just watching the world go by without a thought. His fur clung to his bones, showing the details of his ribs, and he was never crying or yelping. I don't know how he slept, or if he was waiting for someone's return.

He wasn't tied to the fence, despite his staying in the exact same location for the three days I passed him on my walk with my big yellow dog. Tropical Storm Ike stranded people and orphaned pets in the shelters around town, so he couldn't be taken in immediately. So, after bouncing a check for some measly groceries, I crushed some bits of beef jerky and fed them to him. It was dusk, and I had forgotten all about my other obligations in trying to so this one good deed.

He is gonna be a big dog, and would have a good home, and make a family very happy. Much happier than I could make him in my shitty little hovel with few funds and limited time and too much clutter strewn about the only extra room. But I couldn't name him, and I did want him with me ... maybe to fill the hole inside me.

I fill that hole with sex, diversions such as books, pornography, writing obscene perverse things that would make some people cringe and run hiding into the darkness. I loathe religion, and I don't want to be bothered by people any longer. I just want a house, a chance to love someone, or something, and be living a quiet life.

He left tonight with a teacher I know from one of the local junior high schools. He's gonna have a yard, a family, and kids to romp and play and grow with for a long time to come. And he deserves that; if he spent longer than the days & nights I saw him in that one spot, maybe waiting for the person who dumped him there who's never returning, then he does deserve all the happiness in the world.

~pause~

If I've ever complained about money before, I am doubly-screwed now. My university has notified me that I won't receive my Federal student loan because I am not enrolled in enough hours for this semester. I just dumped Wild Turkey into my iced tea, weeping a little, wishing I could truly be bad, and fuck the consequences. But I can't. I am sad, broke, and just a little worried if I could lose my car or my home.

I cried when the lady with the university told me, "Well sir, since you're not enrolled I can't see you recieving any funds until January." I told her that just the one class was a financial strain, and I may need to drop the course since I won't be able to afford it.

"Sorry."

Nothing else. No options, no other way ... fucked.

I've stated before I feared the zombie apocalypse. That's not entirely true. I really only fear one thing: 'homelessness'. Being alone in this world, completely cut off and lost to the grid and the lines of life.

I see them, begging for money, little scraps of life, and I give to them. Could that be me one day too? Should I fall on my sword and my pride and just move home with my parents and see my life is more a tale of sadness from Will Eisner's graphic novel, "Invisible People" than "Failure to Launch".

Right now I'm sad & confused. Maybe there's never been anything real ... anything tangible to me, anything of substance. Am I finally cracking up or is this the darkness before the bright light of day? As I mentioned before in my previous blog, should I solicit my friends for cash or just wait for my soul to take flight and finally be happy, hopefully?

Right now I am gonna go to bed. I don't need to do anything but stop thinking and walk the dog in the morning, making my life a little more joyous that the Unnamed Dog has a home.

One day I'll have one too.

Thank you for listening - sorry about the tears.

Always,



Julian

Through the Doorz

The Soft Parade Lyrics
Artist(Band):The Doors
***********

When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!

Can you give me sanctuary?
I must find a place to hide,
A place for me to hide.

Can you find me soft asylum?
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door.

Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy,
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled —
One is to sleep and the other is travel at dawn.
One is a bandit up in the hills,
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home.

Catacombs,
Nursery bones,
Winter women
Growing stones,
Carrying babies
To the river;
Streets and shoes,
Avenues,
Leather riders
Selling news,
The monk bought Lunch.

He he he, he bought a little.
Yes, he did
Woo!

This is the best part of the trip.
This is the trip, the best part
I really like it.

What'd he say?
Yeah!
Yeah, right!
Pretty good, huh
Huh!
Yeah, I'm proud to be a part of this number!

Successful hills are here to stay,
Everything must be this way.
Gentle streets where people play,
Welcome to the Soft Parade.

All our lives we sweat and save,
Building for a shallow grave.
“Must be something else”, we say
“Somehow to defend this place.”
Everything must be this way,
Everything must be this way, yeah. Aah, yeah!

The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum.
People out to have some fun,
Cobra on my left,
Leopard on my right, yeah.

Deer woman in a silk dress,
Girls with beads around their necks,
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night.

Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter,
The radio is moaning,
Calling to the dogs.
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard,
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed.

Tropic corridor,
Tropic treasure,
What got us this far,
To this mild equator?
We need someone or something new,
Something else to get us through, yeah. C'mon!

1st voice 2nd voice 3rd voice
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
But it's gettin' harder Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' in the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the gods.
You gotta
Meet me Too late, baby!
Shoot a few animals аt the crossroads Too late!
let out in the yard.
But it's getting harder Whoa!
Gotta meet me You’ve done great, hey!
at the edge of town, Having a good time.
You’d better come along
outskirts of the city Let’s fun!
Just you and I
and the evening sky. We are so alone.
Better bring your gun You’d better come along.
You’d better bring your gun.
We’re gonna have some fun! Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure.
“When all else fails,
We can whip the horse's
Eyes and make them sleep
and cry.”

http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/The-Soft-Parade-lyrics-The-Doors/F6CB7BED4BCF951C4825689700347737

****************




***************

I am listening to this incredible song by "The Doors", and I am reading the lyrics. Maybe Morrison is right: "You cannot petition the Lord with prayer." The song is a mishmash of several styles, all incorporated into a almost sweet song for the radio and yet, the song has a drummed edge, a touch of the rebellious.

It's a confusion and still a mirror, compared to the previous journal I wrote. It has a question in it: "Do I really think I can sway God with my petitions or promises? Or am I unable to see that I am more fucked-up with need that I am with greed and selfishness. Or am I just confused with the needs of my life, confusing them with the lack of spiritual depth in my black soul?

~sigh!~

Maybe an answer will come soon ... maybe a check will come soon sparing me the need to be charitable. Of course, I am greedy all the time now so I guess we'll see what happens next, right?

That or we'll make a decision that will finally change life for the better.

Maybe I need to board 'The Crystal Ship' instead.

Adios for now,



Jules

Are You A Dummy? Am I? I Think So ...

Grandpa George: "There's plenty of money out there. They print more every day. But this ticket, there's only five of them in the whole world, and that's all there's ever going to be. Only a dummy would give this up for something as common as money. Are you a dummy? "

"Are You A Dummy?"

Ike has come & gone, and I am waiting to see when my Federal funding will arrive. I am hoping that my student loan will come in soon so I can spend it luxuries like meat, rent, air conditioning, and flash drives and art supplies. I scrape buy, with a little help from my friends & family, working odd-jobs and making little craft to keep me afloat from time to time with my hands. I am getting by just enough to keep my dreams more alive than in the past. When I am not working into prayer for money, I am scribbling,typing, or sketching. I can't finish my art as its' in need of a light table to grasp the finer details and new ink pens to make the image come in to their own personality.

I am also buying books all the time: blank sketch books, journals, spirals in color patterns of all kinds and many many pens. Ink, ball point, gel pens, colored inks, fancy or simple, from common or specialty stores.

Of course, there's also my vanity. I need my shirts starched, my slacks steamed or pressed, shoes polished and the nicer breads for my sandwiches, brand-name sodas, and gas for my Cobalt. How I am squeaking by is a miracle or mystery. I am drowning, but still treading water.

I keep trying to incorporate my art (actually my paintings) more than anything into my art, and I've seen what passes as art today, and my heart is a little jealous. I know there are many ways to express oneself, such as print, grafitti, painting, sculpture, movies and photography. I have only posted my photos as I am guarding my paintings very carefully. Since I'm not Pollock's heir, I am always worried about any comparison made to my abstracts. They're not for everyone but ... they make me happy.

How can I combine happiness & money making? That's a head-scratcher. I thought about a dog-walking service but people let their dogs roam the streets until its' time to get dinner from their masters hand. Art is not a big seller in this area of town, and I don't feel like having someone hold onto one of my paintings until it's sold with a hefty or lost when the small business closes. A gallery won't look at you until you selland they won't sell anything until they know you so it's a catch-22 for me. Can't sell till you're know and you're not known till you're selling.

Scripts? Hasn't happened, and probably won't unless I sell them or produce them myself. Also, like I've mentioned before they were all produced/written on a Brother Word Processor so I am hanging sheets of paper from my old scripts at eye-level and retyping them. I could hire someone with secretarial experience but I don't know if they'd be comfortable reading my perversions and not wanting to edit them or baptize me since I am a vile fuckin' sinner with the shit I've created. Thus, I am typing them myself slowly, arduously, carefully trying to use a simple format versus buying a script-writing program.

Now I do groan softly when I see Jenna Jameson's book, and know that it was on the New York Time's bestsellers' list for eight (8) weeks. THIS was on the Time's list but I can't crack a MySpace blog placement above 300,000, meaning there are a quarter of a million people above me, so noone's reading me but the people that already know who I am. And I guess that's why I am working so hard at Google's 'Blogger' site instead; that and with Yahoo killing my last blog on their 360 page.

ASSHOLES!! FUCKIN' SCUMBAGS!!!

Interviews? I don't think so. Who am I going to interview, chatters & deviates? Other freaks & pervs? I don't think people seeking anominity would like their counter-lives being pushed up into the limelight nor should they have their 'real' faces shown. After all, would you want to see your kids' teacher is really they orgy mistress or their soccer coach is a dom-who uses young women as footstools in his cyber-life, or anything that could even get weird. (Yes, these are the tame things on-line; if you can't imagine the worst things in life as a norm then you're DEFINATELY not ready for these people! Trust me, there are some real weirdoes out there!)

So I need money, but what? Forgeries? Counterfeiting? That's very 'iffy' since the Secret Service WILL come down on my fat-ass & leave me someone's pet in a federal lock-up for 05 to 20. Actually, that would be for money, but art, IF SOLD, would be a felony for the amount of money the client is bilked out of after I think, $2000. That's where a misdemeanor becomes a felony for the dollar amount. Vermeer was a little-known Dutch artist, to whom about 35+ portraits were attributed, and during World War II a artist made 'undiscovered' paintings for Vermeer and sold them as the real thing. To not be sentenced as a Nazi collaborator he had toshow just how he made the fakes.

I've seen other pieces of art from a website where you can balance the art against the walls of your place or the couch, which we called "motel art", meaing it should match the scape of the room, not be something trulyspecial or intriguing or meaningful.

I don't want that in life either. Motel art, cheesiness or trite items don't nor would make me happy.

Something needs to come from my soul ... a reality check that won't bounce or burn up! SHIT!!
Am I an idiot? Or am I just scared? Lazy? Do I need self-motivation?

Is cyber-begging the answer? "HI ... I need $25,000, but have no reason to ask other than I am sure you have a way to make money and I am an uninspired, lazy or idiotic shithead so please send me money. And yes, I'll make sure you have a chance to see me say 'Thank you' in one of the MANY fuckin' lines of people. And THAT will make you special, so send me your cash, no matter your situation. Just make it a money order or send some bills in a dark envelope. Be careful - there's a $35 fee if the check bounces."

~lol~

Should I strip? I saw this on-line when I was investigating money-forgeries-counterfeiting and the like, and found an ad, which reminded me of the one "HUSTLER" magazine ran a while back. Tuition assistance, just by shedding your clothing or fucking the nasty guys for DVD's, porn sites and cumshots in their magazines. I know that I could see the double-standard working on my behalf, as women who've done porn are ostracized but men who do anything vulgar aren't given notice in any way.

~Sigh!~

(To be continued ... )





********** REFERENCES NOTES & LINKS **************

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0367594/quotes - Charlie & the Chocolate Factory
http://delicious.com/Ambersn/money - money on a blog/HellNotes
http://www.cruelty.com/money/ - Tracking money
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Girl_with_a_Pearl_Earring_(film) - Book currently being read
http://girl-with-a-pearl-earring.20m.com/ - Studying the book/times of story in depth
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Han_van_Meegeren - forgerer during World War 2 who was thought to be Nazi collaborator.
http://www.savekaryn.com/ - Needs help to make her coverage for $20,000 in bills.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karyn_Bosnak - biography about web-panhandler
http://brianx.com/br2csendmoneytrend.html - Cyber-begging explained
http://dir.salon.com/story/mwt/feature/2002/10/02/karyn/ - more about Karyn Bosnak
http://countrystore.blogspot.com/2002_11_10_countrystore_archive.html - College tuition
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_to_Make_Love_Like_a_Porn_Star:_A_Cautionary_Tale - Ain't This A Best-Seller
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080914/ap_en_ot/obit_wallace - Writer dead @ 46

The Class of 1985 - Like So Many Others

I was visiting my folks on the Labor Day holiday, having a bite with them, my siblings, and their spouses when my mother pulled me aside, asking, "Did J~ from your old high school have an older brother?" When she noticed the quizzical look on my face, she showed me a clipped obituary from the newspaper.

It was J~'s brother. He had died of some mysterious disease. Granted he was a bit of a drinker and smoker when I knew him, and was not what you'd call civilized, but a good guy. When J~ and I were in high school we'd watch his older brothers' porn tapes, drink beers, and wonder a little about him as he was reclusive and quiet. I never knew much about him but that he was a physical guy, liked mechanical work, and would grab either of us, wrestling us to the ground, in a very older brother manner.

I'm 41 ... and I keep restating my age for the fact that I don't think I look or feel my age. I can't say I am 'in shape', but I am not crippled, haven't had any body parts in a sling or cast (that I can recall currently) or had to undergo surgery. I'm not a college veteran, well-liked or even remembered. I loathed my high school years as they were awkward & social-degredations of my personal being. I hated it so fuckin' much.

That's why I've never acknowledged it, nor will. If people think I'm a geek now, Lord only know what they'd see in the old images of me I have stored in a box in my shabby studio.

(Pause)

I called J~ later in the week, talking to him briefly. He told me the family was in turmoil at that moment still and just couldn't handle what had happened, especially his folks. They say the greatest tragedy for a parent is to outlive their child. I can't imagine that now in my life in anyway, as I have none. We see each other every so often, are glad to see each other, and chat for a bit. This time he didn't want to be bothered; he was just heartbroken. He didn't want to know I was somewhere in
the shadows or the past, he just wanted to mourn.

The call was abrupt. He hung up without a 'good-bye' ... and that's his right.

Life is moving a little faster each day & I wonder if I'll reach my goals. Have I been asleep for too long? Have my dreams come and gone, or least their opprotunities? Or am I trying too hard and letting depression slip over me again & again, overtaking me, making me sad? I remember the movie, "The Doors", and Jim Morrison (Val Kilmer) and the band are at a loft party for Andy Warhol, and they want to leave. Morrison says they should stay or follow the night, and see what happens. Ray Manzareck (Kyle McLaughlin) says, "Jim, this isn't our scene. These people are vampires."

Am I surrounded by Vampires? Have I succumbed to the veins being drained of my soul and hopes? Am I depressed and sad moreso than a man my age should be or is it just the cause of my own personal unfulfilled sadness?

After hearing the misery of my old friend, and knowing I can't do anything for him in any way besides pray & light candles, I wound up driving out to run some errands. I had to move quick since there was an obstructed item in my vision and I cut off two (2) vehicles, just barely missing them. A moment later I found the same guy chasing me down, screaming at me to pull over with a nutso psycho look in his eyes! I tried apologizing but I could not do anything more than drive faster,
and I was not gonna stop with his insanity. THEN I decided, 'I will go to the police substation' just in case this guy acts like an asshole & tries attacking me. Teachers aren't allowed to have felonies on their criminal records and a fight is a felony.

That night after filing my police report, I still ran my errands, and went home. Granted, I was very cautious, always looking at verhicles to see if I'd suddenly encounter this nut & be trapped into defending myself. I spoke to an old friend of mine who's an attorney, and he told me that if I were to get into a fight, it would probably keep me from being hired if I'm not in a school where I could be defended by the district's lawyers.

So that would end ALL the need to teach. I need the money until someone buys a script or a book or a graphic novel, but until then I have to have some way to live and this would be it. And if I am criminally fucked-up on my record then I'd be disallowed to teach in any manner. And I just can't afford that in any way.

I was browsing the internet for handguns & shotguns. I didn't look for permits ... yet. I don't want to contemplate harming anyone, but if it really came between me & him I'd choose me. There is no way to make the case for killing another person, but I don't feel like being a stratic.

And this neighborhood is becoming shabbier. Ex-con assholes are taking over the duplexes so the management can rent out the apartments to make a profit against all the renovations they have done to bring the place up to code and to more liveable a place. I love my dog and my life currently, but I should never have to rethink my life like an episode of "Law & Order" should I? Is that just being a realist or am I fucked?

I'll have to wait & see what happens next.

Blessings,



Julian

***********

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1985 - People & events of that year

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1985_in_music - Music that year

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dMmNcT3ouo - Bowling for Soup

http://www.infoplease.com/year/1985.html - A capsulation of the year

http://www.answers.com/topic/1985 - More events of the year

http://uscode.law.cornell.edu/uscode/html/uscode42/usc_sec_42_00001985----000-.html - The Law of the Year 1985