Story arc: It goes up, and then down, and kind of up and down, and then up, but reminder, to keep it up, because it's always "study through exertion" if it's an adventure worth having.
― Maya Angelou
Yesterday was the most beautiful day I've spent in this new city since I moved here. It was like spring truly began. The sky was clear, blue, and crisp, the sun sparkled on all the newly budded green leaves, and I felt amazing, despite three hours of sleep the night before. Usually I would be mad about that, but instead I felt a strong urge to get moving on a project and to teach a great class. I began the day by asking the students to write about a quote that I found in my friend Russ's guest room at the beginning of my move west (10 months ago... man, it's been a while). It says:
I told each student to think about something that they thought they did really well, even if they weren't exactly the best, and after half an hour they all shared with the class. The whole day went really well. I think it was the best class I'd taught so far, and I learned a lot about the special talents possessed by these humans I was spending time with every day.
The lack of sleep made me sad again at night, and even though I was wiped out I couldn't fall asleep early, and this morning I felt really low. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't see the point. I couldn't imagine facing a room full of people expecting me to lead them in learning again. But I got up, showered, ate a quick breakfast. I looked at the door and there was a note from the manager saying that the man who I had to kick out of the house for possible domestic violence a week earlier was officially not allowed in the house anymore, or any of her other friends for that matter, until the new "unfortunate situation is resolved". I sighed, opened the door and walked up the incredibly steep hill to the pyramid on the corner, the sun shining brightly above it, and then turned down the street to get my car. I was listening to The Streets' "Stay Positive". I got in my car and drove to work.
I usually have to walk half an hour just to get to the subway, but I didn't feel like it today, and was willing to pay for parking in the garage at the civic center. I can't say every lyric captured my emotions, but I liked having his cool cockney accent coaching me through chaos back to connection.
I decided I didn't want to be in a bad mood anymore, I had let that run its course, so I scrolled and scrolled and couldn't really scroll because the stop light was changing from red to green, so I saw Tom Waits. I just lived up in Sebastopol in Sonoma County for a few months when I first got to California, and I learned that he lived around there. "Grapefruit Moon" seemed attractive, since I loved watching the half-moon. It reminds me of the Cheshire Cat, or the queen of love, or simply that the sun is still shining even though it's night time. Just about every line made sense to me at some time in my life, except the one about smoking cigarettes. It changed the emotions from cool indignation to just flat out depression. But the good kind. The Butters Leopold Stotch kind. Okay, I'm a 28 year old man, not a 10 year old cartoon boy. I was feeling the song anyway, and Tom Waits is a man.
Tracy Chapman was nearby on the artist list after Waits finished up. "Fast Car" made sense while I was driving. I should be so lucky to have a car. I haven't had one since high school. The song didn't help my mood, although, once again, it felt right. My mom played that song a lot when I was a kid, especially when we were on the highway at night on a long journey, and I always associate it with riding past the Bronx or Baltimore under the city lights. I actually think more about the people I live with than my own life when I hear this song, or all the people my mom had to take care of as a social worker, or any time I felt like a failure or meaningless in the world, something anyone has to fight at one time or another. When I pulled into the parking garage, I didn't want to get out of the car. I felt like I was in the wrong place. Maybe not now, but not down the road. I wanted to be further down the road, and now. I knew I was qualified, I just didn't know the next steps to take to share it with the people in the best possible way. I had something to say, and I could write it and capture it in pictures and put movies together and the perfect music, and I had been through so much and met so many people and learned so many stories and noticed things other people didn't notice, but sometimes it put smiles on people's faces, and that put a smile on my face, and they both seemed like good reasons to do whatever it is I do. I think the thing I fear the most is having my life be summed up by something I did that wasn't the best thing I knew I could do, better than anyone else. This was something, and it was related, but it wasn't that.
I just wanted to drive away. I have choices, after all. It may not have been a smart choice, but the option was there.
I walked to work, to the American Academy of English on Golden Gate Ave, and found four students already waiting. It was 9:13, and class starts at 9:15, and I'm lucky to have one student by then. I usually give them until 9:30 because that's what the previous teacher did. The school is so lax compared to school I remember growing up because it's not compulsory, and they are choosing to be there for their own good. It is open enrollment, so students come and go whenever they want, and there's no real full year commitment on anyone's part. I'm even allowed to take a two or three week vacation if I want to, I just wouldn't get paid. I just teach week to week, basically, and try not to repeat myself. Yet it's kind of depressing without any overall goal in sight, other than making the most of it and trying to get something out to the experience, just like anything else you go through on the journey.
One of the students commented on how I'm always on time, and I thought, "Shouldn't I be? I'm the teacher."
I honestly didn't know what I was going to teach when I got to class. I was aware of where we were in the vocab and grammar books, but there's still a lot of other time to fill. We're together for five and half hours with a 30 minute break and a 15 minute break. I have to make it fun and informative the rest of the time, even if it is a grammar text book.
I was worried that for once I wouldn't know what to say, or how to stand in front of them with confidence and authority. I realized that I needed their help, or I wouldn't make it through the day... or maybe other days after.
I wrote on the board to write about someone who inspired them, their "hero", and convince us why this person is important and worth knowing about, whether it was someone they knew personally, a stranger they saw on the street, a celebrity or public figure, or a fictional character. Then I went up to make copies of the reading explorer.
When I came back the class was filled with 20 students, earlier than usual, which surprised me. I waited for them to write for about 30 minutes, and then I learned the following:
A man from Turkmenistan said his hero is a Japanese cartoon character named Naruto who never gives up.
A woman from Siberia said she read an article about a famous climber who had an accident on a mountain in Russia, and had his legs amputated, but he got artificial limbs and is climbing again with fake legs.
A woman from Kyrgyzstan she said that Lady Diana was her hero for all of the charity work she did.
A man from Brazil said a little known Brazilian soccer player named Romario is his hero. He scored 1000 goals and brings attention to poor families in Brazil, and exposes contractor fraud (taking too much time to build houses for poor people and running up the price).
A woman from France said that Leonardo da Vinci is her hero because he was a Renaissance Man who had infinite curiosity and an inventive imagination.
A man from Venezuela said that his hero is his mother. They found out she had cancer two years ago, and he said that nobody knows what cancer's like until it happens to them or someone they love, and they slowly watched her go, although she never stopped fighting and tried everything, chemo, radiation, whatever, and kept fighting until the end. I was so proud of him. He never broke into full tears, although he was on the verge of it.
A woman from Thailand said that the King of Thailand is her hero because he works hard to make the people of Thailand have a happy life.
A woman from Thailand said that her parents are her heroes because they are the best listeners and advisers, but now her roommate is her hero because she takes care of her when she's drunk and lends her money.
A woman from Japan said the people of San Francisco are her heroes because she came here alone and didn't know anyone, and she was in a very bad living situation for a while, and then eventually people helped her out of it and she enjoys life here.
A woman from Japan said that her dad is her hero. He would catch snakes and hold them up to her to show that she shouldn't be afraid of poison. He once slept with his arms about a beehive, to show her she shouldn't be scared. He always tells her to trust herself and takes the family on lots of trips.
A woman from Japan said that her tennis coach was her hero, even though he was really tough on everyone. She broke down once and the coach told her not to take it personally, that she had improved a lot, and if she worked hard she could achieve anything.
A man from Brazil said his father is his hero because he has worked a hard, humble life, and always makes his family happy.
A woman from China said her older friend is her hero because he started a successful film production company and always works in science, and inspired her to study abroad in America.
A man from China said his professor from Northwestern is his hero because he told him to come to the US to study music.
A man from Thailand said his father is his hero. He was an engineer and worked hard for his family, but he got lung cancer and died quickly, and didn't get to enjoy any of his money, but he gave it all away to his family before he died.
A woman from Thailand said her father is her hero because he is pure, hard-working, family-oriented, and everyone knows him as both a tough and funny guy. He is her "ideal hero".
A man from Kazakhstan said the people of Palestine are his heroes because they keep fighting for their place to be even though they have such a small army.
A man from Thailand said that Mother Teresa is his hero because she organized so much charity for people throughout her life.
A woman from Thailand said that Angelina Jolie is her hero because she is a very professional actress, plays great characters, does what she loves and has a handsome husband.
A woman from Thailand said that a woman named Crunoi (I might have spelled that wrong) adopts homeless children, and got cancer, but still raises money for them without help from anyone else.
A man from Tunisia said that his father is his hero because he was always protecting the family and never stopped looking after them.
My heroes are my family and friends.
Papa and Grandma taught us to "strive to be excellent, and never think you're better than anyone else." Mike Sullivan extended his hand to whomever he met, and the first thing he said to anyone was always, "Is there anything I can do to help?". He got run over by a truck when he was 8, and walked home several miles from school with broken ribs. He also got in trouble a lot as a mischief maker, and enjoyed his life. Barbara Sullivan taught history in high school, and one of her students wrote about her that she always put herself in other people's shoes to see their point of view, and encouraged them to fight the injustices and inequalities that always hurt her heart. She was disowned by her favorite aunt, the one who supported her to be a rare woman at a good school, because she married my grandfather, a Catholic, when she was a Protestant. Michael Sullivan met Barbara Sullivan in the hospital after she had been in a car accident. He had hitched a ride with her friends who were going to visit her, and he kept coming back, despite her bruised and bloodied face.
Grandpa Ted and Grandma Hazel are my heroes. Grandpa Ted was always interested in something, infinitely curious, and learning how to do it on his own by trying and making mistakes. He loved the outdoors, and had many adventures. He volunteered to fight in World War II even though he was fifteen, and he lied about his age to do it. He became a state trooper because he wanted to help people, and he said 5/100 troopers are there for that reason as opposed to an authority trip. Grandma Hazel has always loved reading and encouraged us to read as well, and she sacrificed her own dream of college to take care of her younger siblings growing up. My first day of school was a lonely bus ride home, but when I got there Grandpa and Grandma were waiting for my sister and me with snacks and encouragement.
My dad is my hero. He's a Renaissance Man.
My mom is my hero. She is the greatest listener in the world. Infinitely kind.
My sister is my hero. She shows me to be myself and express myself no matter how many weird looks or snickers I might get in the process.
My sister's husband is my hero. The night before I went on my big journey around the world and was worried about how lonely I was going to be, he simply had a conversation with me and encouraged me to enjoy it and take advantage of what a great opportunity it was going to be. He was right.
My cousin Dan is my hero. He's tried a million different things, and he always throws himself in with full passion, whatever it is.
My cousin Mike is my hero. He does what he loves, and even though he's an IBM computer game guy and I'm a poet journeyer, we know each other so well from the beginning, and have deep spiritual connections and conversations. He summed up the search for truth as "a respect for and curiosity toward everything." He is happy to be himself, no matter how much Dan picks on him for the computer games.
My friend Brad is my hero. When I was seventeen I had my only true girlfriend ever. There have been women since, but not in an official monogamous commitment. Things were going bad, and one day I knew I was on my way over to her house to officially get dumped. It was also the same day as our final game as a team at the 2-on-2 basketball tournament for the school. He and I had been basketball partners since seventh grade, and now that the varsity season was over, the school tournament for pairs was the last chance to play together in a competitive setting. I was feeling physically and mentally sick, and was hoping my girlfriend would at least come to watch, but she declined. We had to play our math teacher and former coach, who was much taller and bigger and more experienced, and a short punk JV kid. We played the best game of our lives, and fought as hard as we possibly could, and made absolutely amazing shots, and jumped on the floor a million times, and scraped up our knees, and everything we had ever learned as teammates was on full display for whoever was watching, and I gave Larry just one step too many to create space for him to take his shot, and they won in overtime. I went straight to the locker room and collapsed on the floor in complete exhaustion, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was bright red and coughing up yellow phlegm, my body coated in sweat. I heard Brad step up behind me, pause, and say, "This is where the best friend says something..." That's all he had to say. We still play one on one, and it always makes me better at life. He's an accountant and just bought a house, and makes me laugh my insides out. But sometimes, no matter what, whoever your heroes are, or no matter who believes in you, you have to play alone with your destiny. There's always a game, and sometimes you get a rematch. That wasn't the real game anyway.
My friend Robert is my hero. He got me into music, and is always the most cheerful, respectful, open-minded and warm hearted person I see. His mother had multiple sclerosis since he was seven and as long as I've known him, and she died when he was sixteen. His dad is rarely around for reasons. His grandmother is an amazing woman and always treated me like her son too. Rob had to go through drug court to battle the types of addictions one might expect from a musician who's father wasn't around and mother had died young, but he did it right for two years and graduated, despite all the pressure. His grandmother had a stroke right before I left, and she died in December. He had to move out of the house he's lived in his whole life because the bank owned it, but now he has his own apartment, is working, and is still making music that inspires me, on every journey, whatever it may be.
My friend Dan is my hero. He grew up in a trailer, and sometimes he got teased. One of his punk neighbors said in front of people that his family was a bunch of quitters, and I know his family, and that's not true, but Dan didn't care. He has the strongest heart of gold of anyone I know. There's no one I could think of who I would rather have behind me in an intense situation, because I've seen him defuse several situations throughout my life simply by sticking his chest out for his friends. He got married in right before having a kid when he was 22, and despite him being the most energetic and rambunctious "big kid" I know, he has never missed the call of duty. Now he shares his own house with his wonderful wife, and when I see him with his daughter and his son, I sometimes wonder if any of my own accomplishments measure up in any way.
My friend Joe M. is my hero. I wrote many people letters in January, probably about 100. The old-fashioned way. I didn't expect replies, and I just wanted to make people happy and let them know I was thinking about them and why I admired them, and nobody wrote back. Many people send me thankful e-mails or quick facebook messages or texts, which I appreciated greatly. It made me very happy that I did it. Still, no mail. I called him, amongst others, one day when I was really afraid I wouldn't find work, and I needed to hear someone's voice. He didn't seem too prepared to hear me sounding desperate, and I thought he didn't care or understand. A few days later I got a job, finally took the canoe out on San Francisco Bay, and when I got back there was a hand-written letter from Joe:
"Keep up the positive energy. Remember, _______ struggled at times, but it was always an adventure for him. Soon winter will be over and we'll both be back in and on the green mountains! Be well, Joe."
My friend Glenn is my hero. He taught me how to have fun by breaking rules that your average person might furrow their brows about, but that it's actually the right thing to do most of the time, and you can still be a wonderful, loving person in service of the betterment of mankind. He is always the most hilarious person I have and will ever meet, and sings and dances more than anyone I know.
My exchange sister Linda is my hero because she taught me how to bravely live in a foreign country, excel at many crafts, and be personable and bubbly to just about everyone. She was also doing long distance running, and taught me a thing or two about stamina.
My friend and only ex-girlfriend, Michelle, is my hero, because she was sad so much all the time, and even though we hurt each other, we became great friends again. The last time I saw her was right before she married her husband, who she met a year after we broke up. It was in Brooklyn, right before I moved to Japan for a year, and she was so fun and encouraging. I love her husband because he has made her this happy.
My friends Jack, Jim, Greg, Chris, Joe S., Joe W., Brian, and Russ from college are my heroes, because they always taught me things I didn't know and helped me enjoy life, and they still do.
Jack once gave me his last piece of bread when I was visiting him in Philadelphia, and told me that his greatest spirituality is when he's "loving other people". He coached me to hitchhike, and sat there for me with encouragement during the hardest moments of my life. He bought me my ticket to the top of the pyramid in Mexico.
Jim's catch phrase is "I'm not too worried about it", and always listened to me in New York when I thought I was going crazy with all of the new strange lessons I was learning, whether through life, books, or my own mind. He also introduced me to my favorite artist, Hiromi.
Greg taught me how to have fun more in college, and once gave away all of his possessions and drove across the country. He couldn't control his impulses for a while, and now he's in a great relationship and is one of the healthiest people I know, in body and soul.
Chris is a doctor, and even though he's constantly confused by how ridiculous the world is, he still devotes his life to relieving pain. He also beat his own cancer in college, a year after becoming my hero by doing the best funny dance in the world when I got back from Bill Palinski's funeral, during Paul Simon's song from the album Graceland "You Can Call Me Al", a song I've been listening to on family road trips since the Baltimore days.
Joe S. is my hero because when I met him his favorite song was "Mayonaise" by the Smashing Pumpkins, and it was mine too, and he threw a football with me the third day of school, and jumped into the gorge with me, and always tried to convince me to get out of my room and be social, and played "Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness" and "Fade to Black" so beautifully on the piano in the dorm when I was low. He also lived with me in New York, and made me laugh a lot when I was sad.
Joe W. is my hero because he always talked with me about spirituality and believing in your dreams and your journey, whatever it may be. He was always open about his feelings and emotions, while at the same time being totally ripped and hunky and desired by all the girls. He gave me hope as a writer when I got back from my first journey.
Brian is my hero because he introduced me to so much amazing art and music in college, and played Mario Kart with me freshman year constantly when we were both being lame and not partying like everyone else. Racing down Rainbow Road at the end of the Star Cup a zillion times as Mario or Toad or Donkey Kong came in handy last summer when I was racing all over the US in a real car. We both learned how to party the next year, and he got me into Radiohead, which changed my life. He always had extremely intelligent conversations with me, and although we often disagreed because of a mutual tendency to play devil's advocate, he made me smarter and better at supporting my points.
Russ is my hero because he taught me how to simultaneously kick back and enjoy yourself while undertaking long journeys that required organization, exertion and perseverance. He also introduced me to Bonnaroo, which is where my journey as an adult truly began. Once I was down over a girl in New Zealand, about eight years ago now, and he told me, "You're a cool guy. Don't ever let a woman tell you different."
Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips is my male celebrity hero, because he puts on the most fun, magical, and freaking rock circus in history. It's hard to top coming out of a spaceship from the lights above, giving the crowd laser pointers, dancing Santa Claus's and go-go girls, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Do You Realize?? and Fight Test performed live, or saying every show should end with the song "Moonlight Mile," and doing just that during the first show I saw him perform. When I got back home, my grandma died on her wedding anniversary in the same room my grandfather died two years earlier.
Wayne says that the world is a beautiful and terrible place, and people are so easily drawn to the terrible things and say that that's real life, and "any time something has any sparkle it's treated as whimsical, but that's not true; it's all real. I think the fact that people are ever kind to each other is already a kind of magic." He also is the most up front about drugs of anyone I've ever known. People are doing them anyway, and misinformation is never a good thing. This is what he says about drugs in an interview with Brian Heater at www.popmatters.com on September 1, 2006:
"Heroin, cocaine, and crystal meth: Don't bother with them, don't hang around people that do them, because it's dangerous to be around people who do them...they're made of horrible substances and hanging around people who do them will get you killed or get you AIDS, some horrible s***." Hard s*** aside, the rest of his response rings a bit more true for the long-haired commander of troops of magic rabbits. "I think there's other drugs that are left up to the individual. If you're young and you're seeking some intense experiences, there are things like LSD and ecstasy and peyote and marijuana that let you have a subjective, personal, intense moment, and they let you get a little bit braver or have a different mindset. If you don't want to do them, you shouldn't do them, but there's elements of experimenting with yourself that I think are wonderful...I've found the best option for me is to be healthy and be awake. But I would never want to restrict anyone."
I've never done the drugs he says not to bother with. Barack Obama and George W. Bush have admitted to doing at least one of them. But I have joyfully explored my mind, the world's mind, as have many others, by experiencing the world in its many forms, whatever it is that you're being at the moment. Sometimes they have names and you just do them, and sometimes you say no because they aren't the step you're supposed to be taking toward good life. We're here to have a good life, right? I have been lucky enough and done my best to always embrace newer possibilities for magic in the world, connecting with and understanding other people, whether it's a new person, place or thing. Food is a thing. Water is a thing. Drugs, whether aspirin or acid, are things. I haven't done cocaine because I'm not interested, people I know who have done it told me that I'm energetic enough without it, and it really messed up my favorite aunt, and she died of cancer on a day that otherwise should have been a celebration. One of my friends did it a lot for a while, but I didn't stop hanging out with her because of that. I respected her enough to let her make her own choices, and she stopped eventually after having some health problems. My first year in New York I was in a room twice where everyone was doing cocaine, and I didn't. They were all friendly and enjoyed themselves, and I wasn't uncomfortable. One girl snorted a line and told me everything I already knew about life, but spot on, but very quickly, and said I'd always be fine because I "know how to talk to people" even though we'd only met for about five minutes. She was on her way to Australia the next day, but first she left to hang out with an unfathomably lame and boring rich guy who lived in West Egg (setting of The Great Gatsby). I haven't seen it since. One of my friends snorted heroin once because it was offered, and he said it just made him really tired and he never tried it again.
Once I was living outside in the snow for thirteen days in November and December, in the Grand Canyon, Zion, and Bryce Canyon, in northern Arizona and southern Utah, and I decided I wanted to go back to civilization, so what better way than to gamble my way to Las Vegas the old-fashioned way, hitchhiking? After all, my favorite song is Wagon Wheel. I got three rides and it took five hours, beginning with waking up in 0 degree weather surrounded by snow, packing up my tent, walking to the highway, waiting an hour, getting a ride from a nice park employee who worked in the Grand Canyon before, got dropped off in the middle of nowhere an hour from anywhere except cars on a major highway, with one turn-on and all of them smiling and wishing they could say yes, until the truck with my name on it actually did come, and I got dropped off in St. George. I waited an hour, got flipped off by some teenagers, left alone by at least five cops, even though I was legally hitching on the entrance ramp like you're supposed to, with a "Las Vegas" sign and a thumb out and a smile, as much effort as that required at the time. Finally two people pulled up in a car that clearly had some problems, and told me to hop in. I did. They told me it's illegal to hitchhike with your thumb out in Utah. You're allowed to have a sign, but that's it. No thumbs up to the world. No wonder it's the most conservative state in the country. We had a great talk all the way on the two hour drive, and then the guy went an hour out of his way in Friday night traffic to deliver me to my friend's cousin's boyfriend's house, arranged by texts the night before from my tent. I should mention that without anyone ever saying exactly what they meant, I deduced that they were in town to pick up a lot of a "very bad drug" that... the lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers had a big battle with. I read about that in the book "Scar Tissue", and it really sounded like something to completely avoid, just like cocaine. He went through it, I don't have to. I do my own things, and I love moving too much to sedate myself, and I think too fast and think about my own story too much to take a speedy ego-enhancer. Ghostface Killah talks about it a lot, and he raps well about a lot of things I don't know about, but he raps really well about a lot of things I can relate to in some way. Enjoying thrills and overcoming imbalances is everyone's battle, and as long as we share honestly, and if possible, creatively, the world will be enjoyed more. The baddest thing about drugs isn't the pleasures they give you. It's the pleasures they hold you back from. You don't want to lose your life over them, or your freedom. Luckily I've managed to remain free and avoid any encounters with lawmen despite my fun.
In Japan I met some nice people in normal functioning society. Later they really surprised me when they told me that they'd done a lot of crystal meth a long time ago and that it was bad news. But by then I could just tell that they were living a life where they were working hard, being positive, sharing with and supporting many people, displaying empathy, and living for the most they could, despite their faults, which we all have. They seemed to love and be loved, so I pass no judgment, and nobody elected me judge over anyone else besides myself. All I can learn from you is whether you're giving me a "green" or "red" or "rainbow" clue. I heard about it a lot as a huge problem when I was riding Greyhound's in the south. Everybody seemed to have a cousin or an uncle strung out on the stuff. Some people ruin their lives really quickly with that stuff. Some people try a little bit of everything and come out alright, although they wouldn't necessarily recommend taking the same path. Whatever you do in life, whether it's a person, place, or thing, there are consequences and trades. A lot of my friends have experimented with minor drugs or with more major but definitely universally reviewed as awesome and across the board beautiful connections to God and the universe, but some of my best ones ever have never. My dad is as clean as you get in that respect, but he has his own...consumption vices. You don't get to be Santa Claus just by being generous :) My mom said she only tried pot because her hippie older sister she looked up to did everything back then, but she didn't review it well and didn't get it. I got it, but I don't have to get it. I prefer it to beer, but I can be social with beer or liquor or whatever people around me are connecting with, so long as I feel like it and I want to and I feel safe and am confident I will have a good time without endangering anyone else.
Wayne Coyne is my hero because he puts on the greatest cosmic circus show in the universal flow. He isn't my hero because he did some drugs, although he is my hero because he explored the territory first, peaking from his perch higher up the pyramid, reporting the beauties and terrors he sees, and telling us which to embrace and which to flee. He's my hero because of his music, and because he talks openly about important things that everyone else sweeps under the rug and simply hopes for the best with while the situation gets worse and worse. He's my hero because he clearly senses quality in what he does and gives it his best creativity and ingenuity, a gold hearted freak Da Vinci, with a divine sense of the universe's heartbeat, humor and imaginative methods of encouragement for anyone tuning in.
"Coyne, who will cop to possessing an overdeveloped work ethic, spends the rest of our afternoon in Oklahoma City running errands. As we climb into his green Ford pickup, he mentions that he's read a story I wrote about Pete Doherty. 'I'm going to give you my version of a Pete Doherty story,' Coyne says. 'He's going around scoring crack, I'm getting duct tape.'
"See, I believe in doing things. That's the problem with most artists: They just dream and dream and dream. You gotta do stuff." Coyne delivers the line with a smile, but he's mostly serious.
My writing hero is Tom Robbins. Whenever I feel like I have finished one of his books, it's like I just walked through the arch after a four day Bonnaroo, see the magic all around me, and am ready to make it even more magical with the magic inside of me. I know he did mushrooms and LSD and a lot of other stuff, some of which I've done and some I haven't. I read his book sober, but I understand them more because I've explored the world in many open and many secret ways. Everyone has their own secret paths that give them delight and tune them in to their best bliss.
The best experience I ever had by opening my mind through something I ate were these magic seeds from India while floating in a canoe on a lake in Glacier Park, Montana, watching the sun go down, seeing the stars in a whole new beautiful wonderful magically connected way, a way that we are all from and part of, and a way many others have seen...then the moon smile coming out, and then the sun returning.
I only had these seeds because I helped a friend paint once, and he knew someone in a pharmaceutical company, and they actually got popular in Hawaii, but they're originally from India. It's no mistake that the Buddha and every Hindu has another mark for an extra eye on the middle of their forehead. There's a lot to explore in there and out there. But be careful. And don't travel alone before other people teach you how to travel first.
There are always new types of magic seeds, both open and secret, but I can't imagine any other way I would come across those ones again. I don't play Nintendo or even really watch The Simpsons any more either, although I still draw on their lessons and survival skills they helped me practice: imagine, try new approaches, laugh, and share your life with others.
I warn you that out of all the "magic" seeds or beans whatever you want to call them, these ones were like that substance from The Princess Bride that Westley handles like a champ but kills the guy who depends on logic too much, because pure logic can only take you so far when you're on the path in the dark. You need to see some other way. Westley knows about and can handle the substance that kills the lesser man because he has been training himself in as many useful ways as possible to handle whatever comes his way, so he can show the princess bride the best time in the big Bonnaroo circus fireworks display on the magic fun time spin ball, and keep it going as long as possible, whatever it takes. Although hopefully the princess bride will fight more of her own battles, infinitely curious and inventive, like the woman in the Flaming Lips song about Yoshimi, and we'll meet each other at the top, whoever she is.
You learn by embracing what you sense the way you know how to sense it. If it's new and exciting and going to make you feel better in the long run, then go for it.
"I don't know how a man decides
what's right for his own life
it's all a mystery..."
-"Fight Test", The Flaming Lips
“If you don't like something, change it.
If you can't change it, change your attitude. Don't complain.”
― Maya Angelou
"Let them know you realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world
spinning 'round"
-Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips
Yesterday was the most beautiful day I've spent in this new city since I moved here. It was like spring truly began. The sky was clear, blue, and crisp, the sun sparkled on all the newly budded green leaves, and I felt amazing, despite three hours of sleep the night before. Usually I would be mad about that, but instead I felt a strong urge to get moving on a project and to teach a great class. I began the day by asking the students to write about a quote that I found in my friend Russ's guest room at the beginning of my move west (10 months ago... man, it's been a while). It says:
I told each student to think about something that they thought they did really well, even if they weren't exactly the best, and after half an hour they all shared with the class. The whole day went really well. I think it was the best class I'd taught so far, and I learned a lot about the special talents possessed by these humans I was spending time with every day.
The lack of sleep made me sad again at night, and even though I was wiped out I couldn't fall asleep early, and this morning I felt really low. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't see the point. I couldn't imagine facing a room full of people expecting me to lead them in learning again. But I got up, showered, ate a quick breakfast. I looked at the door and there was a note from the manager saying that the man who I had to kick out of the house for possible domestic violence a week earlier was officially not allowed in the house anymore, or any of her other friends for that matter, until the new "unfortunate situation is resolved". I sighed, opened the door and walked up the incredibly steep hill to the pyramid on the corner, the sun shining brightly above it, and then turned down the street to get my car. I was listening to The Streets' "Stay Positive". I got in my car and drove to work.
"Just try and stay positive
Just try and stay positive
Just try and stay positive"
I usually have to walk half an hour just to get to the subway, but I didn't feel like it today, and was willing to pay for parking in the garage at the civic center. I can't say every lyric captured my emotions, but I liked having his cool cockney accent coaching me through chaos back to connection.
"It's easy, no-one blames you
It's that world out there that's [messed with] you
You're no less of a person and if God exists
He still loves you
Just remember that - the more you sink
the further back from that brink
Searching for yourself you find demons
Try and be a freeman and grasp that talisman
Cause you're the same as I am
We all need our fellow man
We all need our Samaritan.
Maybe I'm better looking than you though
Maybe I've got more dough - but am I happier... no.
Get the love of a good girl
and your world will be much richer than my world
And your happiness will uncurl"
It's that world out there that's [messed with] you
You're no less of a person and if God exists
He still loves you
Just remember that - the more you sink
the further back from that brink
Searching for yourself you find demons
Try and be a freeman and grasp that talisman
We all need our fellow man
We all need our Samaritan.
Maybe I'm better looking than you though
Maybe I've got more dough - but am I happier... no.
Get the love of a good girl
and your world will be much richer than my world
And your happiness will uncurl"
I decided I didn't want to be in a bad mood anymore, I had let that run its course, so I scrolled and scrolled and couldn't really scroll because the stop light was changing from red to green, so I saw Tom Waits. I just lived up in Sebastopol in Sonoma County for a few months when I first got to California, and I learned that he lived around there. "Grapefruit Moon" seemed attractive, since I loved watching the half-moon. It reminds me of the Cheshire Cat, or the queen of love, or simply that the sun is still shining even though it's night time. Just about every line made sense to me at some time in my life, except the one about smoking cigarettes. It changed the emotions from cool indignation to just flat out depression. But the good kind. The Butters Leopold Stotch kind. Okay, I'm a 28 year old man, not a 10 year old cartoon boy. I was feeling the song anyway, and Tom Waits is a man.
Tracy Chapman was nearby on the artist list after Waits finished up. "Fast Car" made sense while I was driving. I should be so lucky to have a car. I haven't had one since high school. The song didn't help my mood, although, once again, it felt right. My mom played that song a lot when I was a kid, especially when we were on the highway at night on a long journey, and I always associate it with riding past the Bronx or Baltimore under the city lights. I actually think more about the people I live with than my own life when I hear this song, or all the people my mom had to take care of as a social worker, or any time I felt like a failure or meaningless in the world, something anyone has to fight at one time or another. When I pulled into the parking garage, I didn't want to get out of the car. I felt like I was in the wrong place. Maybe not now, but not down the road. I wanted to be further down the road, and now. I knew I was qualified, I just didn't know the next steps to take to share it with the people in the best possible way. I had something to say, and I could write it and capture it in pictures and put movies together and the perfect music, and I had been through so much and met so many people and learned so many stories and noticed things other people didn't notice, but sometimes it put smiles on people's faces, and that put a smile on my face, and they both seemed like good reasons to do whatever it is I do. I think the thing I fear the most is having my life be summed up by something I did that wasn't the best thing I knew I could do, better than anyone else. This was something, and it was related, but it wasn't that.
I just wanted to drive away. I have choices, after all. It may not have been a smart choice, but the option was there.
I walked to work, to the American Academy of English on Golden Gate Ave, and found four students already waiting. It was 9:13, and class starts at 9:15, and I'm lucky to have one student by then. I usually give them until 9:30 because that's what the previous teacher did. The school is so lax compared to school I remember growing up because it's not compulsory, and they are choosing to be there for their own good. It is open enrollment, so students come and go whenever they want, and there's no real full year commitment on anyone's part. I'm even allowed to take a two or three week vacation if I want to, I just wouldn't get paid. I just teach week to week, basically, and try not to repeat myself. Yet it's kind of depressing without any overall goal in sight, other than making the most of it and trying to get something out to the experience, just like anything else you go through on the journey.
One of the students commented on how I'm always on time, and I thought, "Shouldn't I be? I'm the teacher."
I honestly didn't know what I was going to teach when I got to class. I was aware of where we were in the vocab and grammar books, but there's still a lot of other time to fill. We're together for five and half hours with a 30 minute break and a 15 minute break. I have to make it fun and informative the rest of the time, even if it is a grammar text book.
I was worried that for once I wouldn't know what to say, or how to stand in front of them with confidence and authority. I realized that I needed their help, or I wouldn't make it through the day... or maybe other days after.
I wrote on the board to write about someone who inspired them, their "hero", and convince us why this person is important and worth knowing about, whether it was someone they knew personally, a stranger they saw on the street, a celebrity or public figure, or a fictional character. Then I went up to make copies of the reading explorer.
When I came back the class was filled with 20 students, earlier than usual, which surprised me. I waited for them to write for about 30 minutes, and then I learned the following:
A man from Turkmenistan said his hero is a Japanese cartoon character named Naruto who never gives up.
A woman from Siberia said she read an article about a famous climber who had an accident on a mountain in Russia, and had his legs amputated, but he got artificial limbs and is climbing again with fake legs.
A woman from Kyrgyzstan she said that Lady Diana was her hero for all of the charity work she did.
A man from Brazil said a little known Brazilian soccer player named Romario is his hero. He scored 1000 goals and brings attention to poor families in Brazil, and exposes contractor fraud (taking too much time to build houses for poor people and running up the price).
A woman from France said that Leonardo da Vinci is her hero because he was a Renaissance Man who had infinite curiosity and an inventive imagination.
A man from Venezuela said that his hero is his mother. They found out she had cancer two years ago, and he said that nobody knows what cancer's like until it happens to them or someone they love, and they slowly watched her go, although she never stopped fighting and tried everything, chemo, radiation, whatever, and kept fighting until the end. I was so proud of him. He never broke into full tears, although he was on the verge of it.
A woman from Thailand said that the King of Thailand is her hero because he works hard to make the people of Thailand have a happy life.
A woman from Thailand said that her parents are her heroes because they are the best listeners and advisers, but now her roommate is her hero because she takes care of her when she's drunk and lends her money.
A woman from Japan said the people of San Francisco are her heroes because she came here alone and didn't know anyone, and she was in a very bad living situation for a while, and then eventually people helped her out of it and she enjoys life here.
A woman from Japan said that her dad is her hero. He would catch snakes and hold them up to her to show that she shouldn't be afraid of poison. He once slept with his arms about a beehive, to show her she shouldn't be scared. He always tells her to trust herself and takes the family on lots of trips.
A woman from Japan said that her tennis coach was her hero, even though he was really tough on everyone. She broke down once and the coach told her not to take it personally, that she had improved a lot, and if she worked hard she could achieve anything.
A man from Brazil said his father is his hero because he has worked a hard, humble life, and always makes his family happy.
A woman from China said her older friend is her hero because he started a successful film production company and always works in science, and inspired her to study abroad in America.
A man from China said his professor from Northwestern is his hero because he told him to come to the US to study music.
A man from Thailand said his father is his hero. He was an engineer and worked hard for his family, but he got lung cancer and died quickly, and didn't get to enjoy any of his money, but he gave it all away to his family before he died.
A woman from Thailand said her father is her hero because he is pure, hard-working, family-oriented, and everyone knows him as both a tough and funny guy. He is her "ideal hero".
A man from Kazakhstan said the people of Palestine are his heroes because they keep fighting for their place to be even though they have such a small army.
A man from Thailand said that Mother Teresa is his hero because she organized so much charity for people throughout her life.
A woman from Thailand said that Angelina Jolie is her hero because she is a very professional actress, plays great characters, does what she loves and has a handsome husband.
A woman from Thailand said that a woman named Crunoi (I might have spelled that wrong) adopts homeless children, and got cancer, but still raises money for them without help from anyone else.
A man from Tunisia said that his father is his hero because he was always protecting the family and never stopped looking after them.
My heroes are my family and friends.
Papa and Grandma taught us to "strive to be excellent, and never think you're better than anyone else." Mike Sullivan extended his hand to whomever he met, and the first thing he said to anyone was always, "Is there anything I can do to help?". He got run over by a truck when he was 8, and walked home several miles from school with broken ribs. He also got in trouble a lot as a mischief maker, and enjoyed his life. Barbara Sullivan taught history in high school, and one of her students wrote about her that she always put herself in other people's shoes to see their point of view, and encouraged them to fight the injustices and inequalities that always hurt her heart. She was disowned by her favorite aunt, the one who supported her to be a rare woman at a good school, because she married my grandfather, a Catholic, when she was a Protestant. Michael Sullivan met Barbara Sullivan in the hospital after she had been in a car accident. He had hitched a ride with her friends who were going to visit her, and he kept coming back, despite her bruised and bloodied face.
Grandpa Ted and Grandma Hazel are my heroes. Grandpa Ted was always interested in something, infinitely curious, and learning how to do it on his own by trying and making mistakes. He loved the outdoors, and had many adventures. He volunteered to fight in World War II even though he was fifteen, and he lied about his age to do it. He became a state trooper because he wanted to help people, and he said 5/100 troopers are there for that reason as opposed to an authority trip. Grandma Hazel has always loved reading and encouraged us to read as well, and she sacrificed her own dream of college to take care of her younger siblings growing up. My first day of school was a lonely bus ride home, but when I got there Grandpa and Grandma were waiting for my sister and me with snacks and encouragement.
My dad is my hero. He's a Renaissance Man.
My mom is my hero. She is the greatest listener in the world. Infinitely kind.
My sister is my hero. She shows me to be myself and express myself no matter how many weird looks or snickers I might get in the process.
My sister's husband is my hero. The night before I went on my big journey around the world and was worried about how lonely I was going to be, he simply had a conversation with me and encouraged me to enjoy it and take advantage of what a great opportunity it was going to be. He was right.
My cousin Dan is my hero. He's tried a million different things, and he always throws himself in with full passion, whatever it is.
My cousin Mike is my hero. He does what he loves, and even though he's an IBM computer game guy and I'm a poet journeyer, we know each other so well from the beginning, and have deep spiritual connections and conversations. He summed up the search for truth as "a respect for and curiosity toward everything." He is happy to be himself, no matter how much Dan picks on him for the computer games.
My friend Brad is my hero. When I was seventeen I had my only true girlfriend ever. There have been women since, but not in an official monogamous commitment. Things were going bad, and one day I knew I was on my way over to her house to officially get dumped. It was also the same day as our final game as a team at the 2-on-2 basketball tournament for the school. He and I had been basketball partners since seventh grade, and now that the varsity season was over, the school tournament for pairs was the last chance to play together in a competitive setting. I was feeling physically and mentally sick, and was hoping my girlfriend would at least come to watch, but she declined. We had to play our math teacher and former coach, who was much taller and bigger and more experienced, and a short punk JV kid. We played the best game of our lives, and fought as hard as we possibly could, and made absolutely amazing shots, and jumped on the floor a million times, and scraped up our knees, and everything we had ever learned as teammates was on full display for whoever was watching, and I gave Larry just one step too many to create space for him to take his shot, and they won in overtime. I went straight to the locker room and collapsed on the floor in complete exhaustion, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was bright red and coughing up yellow phlegm, my body coated in sweat. I heard Brad step up behind me, pause, and say, "This is where the best friend says something..." That's all he had to say. We still play one on one, and it always makes me better at life. He's an accountant and just bought a house, and makes me laugh my insides out. But sometimes, no matter what, whoever your heroes are, or no matter who believes in you, you have to play alone with your destiny. There's always a game, and sometimes you get a rematch. That wasn't the real game anyway.
"If you reach a cul-de-sac
The world turns its back
This is your zone, it's like blackjack
The world turns its back
This is your zone, it's like blackjack
He might get the ace or the top one
So organize your two's and three's into a run
then you'll have [upped] him, son
And for that you'll be the better one
So organize your two's and three's into a run
then you'll have [upped] him, son
And for that you'll be the better one
My friend Robert is my hero. He got me into music, and is always the most cheerful, respectful, open-minded and warm hearted person I see. His mother had multiple sclerosis since he was seven and as long as I've known him, and she died when he was sixteen. His dad is rarely around for reasons. His grandmother is an amazing woman and always treated me like her son too. Rob had to go through drug court to battle the types of addictions one might expect from a musician who's father wasn't around and mother had died young, but he did it right for two years and graduated, despite all the pressure. His grandmother had a stroke right before I left, and she died in December. He had to move out of the house he's lived in his whole life because the bank owned it, but now he has his own apartment, is working, and is still making music that inspires me, on every journey, whatever it may be.
"Just try and stay positive "
My friend Dan is my hero. He grew up in a trailer, and sometimes he got teased. One of his punk neighbors said in front of people that his family was a bunch of quitters, and I know his family, and that's not true, but Dan didn't care. He has the strongest heart of gold of anyone I know. There's no one I could think of who I would rather have behind me in an intense situation, because I've seen him defuse several situations throughout my life simply by sticking his chest out for his friends. He got married in right before having a kid when he was 22, and despite him being the most energetic and rambunctious "big kid" I know, he has never missed the call of duty. Now he shares his own house with his wonderful wife, and when I see him with his daughter and his son, I sometimes wonder if any of my own accomplishments measure up in any way.
My friend Joe M. is my hero. I wrote many people letters in January, probably about 100. The old-fashioned way. I didn't expect replies, and I just wanted to make people happy and let them know I was thinking about them and why I admired them, and nobody wrote back. Many people send me thankful e-mails or quick facebook messages or texts, which I appreciated greatly. It made me very happy that I did it. Still, no mail. I called him, amongst others, one day when I was really afraid I wouldn't find work, and I needed to hear someone's voice. He didn't seem too prepared to hear me sounding desperate, and I thought he didn't care or understand. A few days later I got a job, finally took the canoe out on San Francisco Bay, and when I got back there was a hand-written letter from Joe:
"Keep up the positive energy. Remember, _______ struggled at times, but it was always an adventure for him. Soon winter will be over and we'll both be back in and on the green mountains! Be well, Joe."
My friend Glenn is my hero. He taught me how to have fun by breaking rules that your average person might furrow their brows about, but that it's actually the right thing to do most of the time, and you can still be a wonderful, loving person in service of the betterment of mankind. He is always the most hilarious person I have and will ever meet, and sings and dances more than anyone I know.
My exchange sister Linda is my hero because she taught me how to bravely live in a foreign country, excel at many crafts, and be personable and bubbly to just about everyone. She was also doing long distance running, and taught me a thing or two about stamina.
My friend and only ex-girlfriend, Michelle, is my hero, because she was sad so much all the time, and even though we hurt each other, we became great friends again. The last time I saw her was right before she married her husband, who she met a year after we broke up. It was in Brooklyn, right before I moved to Japan for a year, and she was so fun and encouraging. I love her husband because he has made her this happy.
My friends Jack, Jim, Greg, Chris, Joe S., Joe W., Brian, and Russ from college are my heroes, because they always taught me things I didn't know and helped me enjoy life, and they still do.
Jack once gave me his last piece of bread when I was visiting him in Philadelphia, and told me that his greatest spirituality is when he's "loving other people". He coached me to hitchhike, and sat there for me with encouragement during the hardest moments of my life. He bought me my ticket to the top of the pyramid in Mexico.
Jim's catch phrase is "I'm not too worried about it", and always listened to me in New York when I thought I was going crazy with all of the new strange lessons I was learning, whether through life, books, or my own mind. He also introduced me to my favorite artist, Hiromi.
Greg taught me how to have fun more in college, and once gave away all of his possessions and drove across the country. He couldn't control his impulses for a while, and now he's in a great relationship and is one of the healthiest people I know, in body and soul.
Chris is a doctor, and even though he's constantly confused by how ridiculous the world is, he still devotes his life to relieving pain. He also beat his own cancer in college, a year after becoming my hero by doing the best funny dance in the world when I got back from Bill Palinski's funeral, during Paul Simon's song from the album Graceland "You Can Call Me Al", a song I've been listening to on family road trips since the Baltimore days.
Joe S. is my hero because when I met him his favorite song was "Mayonaise" by the Smashing Pumpkins, and it was mine too, and he threw a football with me the third day of school, and jumped into the gorge with me, and always tried to convince me to get out of my room and be social, and played "Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness" and "Fade to Black" so beautifully on the piano in the dorm when I was low. He also lived with me in New York, and made me laugh a lot when I was sad.
Joe W. is my hero because he always talked with me about spirituality and believing in your dreams and your journey, whatever it may be. He was always open about his feelings and emotions, while at the same time being totally ripped and hunky and desired by all the girls. He gave me hope as a writer when I got back from my first journey.
Brian is my hero because he introduced me to so much amazing art and music in college, and played Mario Kart with me freshman year constantly when we were both being lame and not partying like everyone else. Racing down Rainbow Road at the end of the Star Cup a zillion times as Mario or Toad or Donkey Kong came in handy last summer when I was racing all over the US in a real car. We both learned how to party the next year, and he got me into Radiohead, which changed my life. He always had extremely intelligent conversations with me, and although we often disagreed because of a mutual tendency to play devil's advocate, he made me smarter and better at supporting my points.
Russ is my hero because he taught me how to simultaneously kick back and enjoy yourself while undertaking long journeys that required organization, exertion and perseverance. He also introduced me to Bonnaroo, which is where my journey as an adult truly began. Once I was down over a girl in New Zealand, about eight years ago now, and he told me, "You're a cool guy. Don't ever let a woman tell you different."
Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips is my male celebrity hero, because he puts on the most fun, magical, and freaking rock circus in history. It's hard to top coming out of a spaceship from the lights above, giving the crowd laser pointers, dancing Santa Claus's and go-go girls, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Do You Realize?? and Fight Test performed live, or saying every show should end with the song "Moonlight Mile," and doing just that during the first show I saw him perform. When I got back home, my grandma died on her wedding anniversary in the same room my grandfather died two years earlier.
Wayne says that the world is a beautiful and terrible place, and people are so easily drawn to the terrible things and say that that's real life, and "any time something has any sparkle it's treated as whimsical, but that's not true; it's all real. I think the fact that people are ever kind to each other is already a kind of magic." He also is the most up front about drugs of anyone I've ever known. People are doing them anyway, and misinformation is never a good thing. This is what he says about drugs in an interview with Brian Heater at www.popmatters.com on September 1, 2006:
"Heroin, cocaine, and crystal meth: Don't bother with them, don't hang around people that do them, because it's dangerous to be around people who do them...they're made of horrible substances and hanging around people who do them will get you killed or get you AIDS, some horrible s***." Hard s*** aside, the rest of his response rings a bit more true for the long-haired commander of troops of magic rabbits. "I think there's other drugs that are left up to the individual. If you're young and you're seeking some intense experiences, there are things like LSD and ecstasy and peyote and marijuana that let you have a subjective, personal, intense moment, and they let you get a little bit braver or have a different mindset. If you don't want to do them, you shouldn't do them, but there's elements of experimenting with yourself that I think are wonderful...I've found the best option for me is to be healthy and be awake. But I would never want to restrict anyone."
I've never done the drugs he says not to bother with. Barack Obama and George W. Bush have admitted to doing at least one of them. But I have joyfully explored my mind, the world's mind, as have many others, by experiencing the world in its many forms, whatever it is that you're being at the moment. Sometimes they have names and you just do them, and sometimes you say no because they aren't the step you're supposed to be taking toward good life. We're here to have a good life, right? I have been lucky enough and done my best to always embrace newer possibilities for magic in the world, connecting with and understanding other people, whether it's a new person, place or thing. Food is a thing. Water is a thing. Drugs, whether aspirin or acid, are things. I haven't done cocaine because I'm not interested, people I know who have done it told me that I'm energetic enough without it, and it really messed up my favorite aunt, and she died of cancer on a day that otherwise should have been a celebration. One of my friends did it a lot for a while, but I didn't stop hanging out with her because of that. I respected her enough to let her make her own choices, and she stopped eventually after having some health problems. My first year in New York I was in a room twice where everyone was doing cocaine, and I didn't. They were all friendly and enjoyed themselves, and I wasn't uncomfortable. One girl snorted a line and told me everything I already knew about life, but spot on, but very quickly, and said I'd always be fine because I "know how to talk to people" even though we'd only met for about five minutes. She was on her way to Australia the next day, but first she left to hang out with an unfathomably lame and boring rich guy who lived in West Egg (setting of The Great Gatsby). I haven't seen it since. One of my friends snorted heroin once because it was offered, and he said it just made him really tired and he never tried it again.
Once I was living outside in the snow for thirteen days in November and December, in the Grand Canyon, Zion, and Bryce Canyon, in northern Arizona and southern Utah, and I decided I wanted to go back to civilization, so what better way than to gamble my way to Las Vegas the old-fashioned way, hitchhiking? After all, my favorite song is Wagon Wheel. I got three rides and it took five hours, beginning with waking up in 0 degree weather surrounded by snow, packing up my tent, walking to the highway, waiting an hour, getting a ride from a nice park employee who worked in the Grand Canyon before, got dropped off in the middle of nowhere an hour from anywhere except cars on a major highway, with one turn-on and all of them smiling and wishing they could say yes, until the truck with my name on it actually did come, and I got dropped off in St. George. I waited an hour, got flipped off by some teenagers, left alone by at least five cops, even though I was legally hitching on the entrance ramp like you're supposed to, with a "Las Vegas" sign and a thumb out and a smile, as much effort as that required at the time. Finally two people pulled up in a car that clearly had some problems, and told me to hop in. I did. They told me it's illegal to hitchhike with your thumb out in Utah. You're allowed to have a sign, but that's it. No thumbs up to the world. No wonder it's the most conservative state in the country. We had a great talk all the way on the two hour drive, and then the guy went an hour out of his way in Friday night traffic to deliver me to my friend's cousin's boyfriend's house, arranged by texts the night before from my tent. I should mention that without anyone ever saying exactly what they meant, I deduced that they were in town to pick up a lot of a "very bad drug" that... the lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers had a big battle with. I read about that in the book "Scar Tissue", and it really sounded like something to completely avoid, just like cocaine. He went through it, I don't have to. I do my own things, and I love moving too much to sedate myself, and I think too fast and think about my own story too much to take a speedy ego-enhancer. Ghostface Killah talks about it a lot, and he raps well about a lot of things I don't know about, but he raps really well about a lot of things I can relate to in some way. Enjoying thrills and overcoming imbalances is everyone's battle, and as long as we share honestly, and if possible, creatively, the world will be enjoyed more. The baddest thing about drugs isn't the pleasures they give you. It's the pleasures they hold you back from. You don't want to lose your life over them, or your freedom. Luckily I've managed to remain free and avoid any encounters with lawmen despite my fun.
In Japan I met some nice people in normal functioning society. Later they really surprised me when they told me that they'd done a lot of crystal meth a long time ago and that it was bad news. But by then I could just tell that they were living a life where they were working hard, being positive, sharing with and supporting many people, displaying empathy, and living for the most they could, despite their faults, which we all have. They seemed to love and be loved, so I pass no judgment, and nobody elected me judge over anyone else besides myself. All I can learn from you is whether you're giving me a "green" or "red" or "rainbow" clue. I heard about it a lot as a huge problem when I was riding Greyhound's in the south. Everybody seemed to have a cousin or an uncle strung out on the stuff. Some people ruin their lives really quickly with that stuff. Some people try a little bit of everything and come out alright, although they wouldn't necessarily recommend taking the same path. Whatever you do in life, whether it's a person, place, or thing, there are consequences and trades. A lot of my friends have experimented with minor drugs or with more major but definitely universally reviewed as awesome and across the board beautiful connections to God and the universe, but some of my best ones ever have never. My dad is as clean as you get in that respect, but he has his own...consumption vices. You don't get to be Santa Claus just by being generous :) My mom said she only tried pot because her hippie older sister she looked up to did everything back then, but she didn't review it well and didn't get it. I got it, but I don't have to get it. I prefer it to beer, but I can be social with beer or liquor or whatever people around me are connecting with, so long as I feel like it and I want to and I feel safe and am confident I will have a good time without endangering anyone else.
Wayne Coyne is my hero because he puts on the greatest cosmic circus show in the universal flow. He isn't my hero because he did some drugs, although he is my hero because he explored the territory first, peaking from his perch higher up the pyramid, reporting the beauties and terrors he sees, and telling us which to embrace and which to flee. He's my hero because of his music, and because he talks openly about important things that everyone else sweeps under the rug and simply hopes for the best with while the situation gets worse and worse. He's my hero because he clearly senses quality in what he does and gives it his best creativity and ingenuity, a gold hearted freak Da Vinci, with a divine sense of the universe's heartbeat, humor and imaginative methods of encouragement for anyone tuning in.
"Coyne, who will cop to possessing an overdeveloped work ethic, spends the rest of our afternoon in Oklahoma City running errands. As we climb into his green Ford pickup, he mentions that he's read a story I wrote about Pete Doherty. 'I'm going to give you my version of a Pete Doherty story,' Coyne says. 'He's going around scoring crack, I'm getting duct tape.'
"See, I believe in doing things. That's the problem with most artists: They just dream and dream and dream. You gotta do stuff." Coyne delivers the line with a smile, but he's mostly serious.
-From "Okies from Outer Space", June 30, 2006, Rolling Stone magazine:
My writing hero is Tom Robbins. Whenever I feel like I have finished one of his books, it's like I just walked through the arch after a four day Bonnaroo, see the magic all around me, and am ready to make it even more magical with the magic inside of me. I know he did mushrooms and LSD and a lot of other stuff, some of which I've done and some I haven't. I read his book sober, but I understand them more because I've explored the world in many open and many secret ways. Everyone has their own secret paths that give them delight and tune them in to their best bliss.
The best experience I ever had by opening my mind through something I ate were these magic seeds from India while floating in a canoe on a lake in Glacier Park, Montana, watching the sun go down, seeing the stars in a whole new beautiful wonderful magically connected way, a way that we are all from and part of, and a way many others have seen...then the moon smile coming out, and then the sun returning.
I only had these seeds because I helped a friend paint once, and he knew someone in a pharmaceutical company, and they actually got popular in Hawaii, but they're originally from India. It's no mistake that the Buddha and every Hindu has another mark for an extra eye on the middle of their forehead. There's a lot to explore in there and out there. But be careful. And don't travel alone before other people teach you how to travel first.
There are always new types of magic seeds, both open and secret, but I can't imagine any other way I would come across those ones again. I don't play Nintendo or even really watch The Simpsons any more either, although I still draw on their lessons and survival skills they helped me practice: imagine, try new approaches, laugh, and share your life with others.
I warn you that out of all the "magic" seeds or beans whatever you want to call them, these ones were like that substance from The Princess Bride that Westley handles like a champ but kills the guy who depends on logic too much, because pure logic can only take you so far when you're on the path in the dark. You need to see some other way. Westley knows about and can handle the substance that kills the lesser man because he has been training himself in as many useful ways as possible to handle whatever comes his way, so he can show the princess bride the best time in the big Bonnaroo circus fireworks display on the magic fun time spin ball, and keep it going as long as possible, whatever it takes. Although hopefully the princess bride will fight more of her own battles, infinitely curious and inventive, like the woman in the Flaming Lips song about Yoshimi, and we'll meet each other at the top, whoever she is.
You learn by embracing what you sense the way you know how to sense it. If it's new and exciting and going to make you feel better in the long run, then go for it.
"When you feel better tomorrow you'll be a hero
But never forget today. You could be back here
Things can stray
Carry on through the estate,
stare at the geezers so they know you ain't lightweight
And go see your mates
And when they don't look happy
Play 'em this tape
But never forget today. You could be back here
Things can stray
Carry on through the estate,
stare at the geezers so they know you ain't lightweight
And go see your mates
And when they don't look happy
Play 'em this tape
be thankful that everything's cool in your world
Respect to BC
Positivity"
Positivity"
-The Streets, "Stay Positive"
Writer: Skinner, Michael Geoffrey
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer: Skinner, Michael Geoffrey
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
from Original Pirate Material
"Destiny has a lot to do with it
but so do you
you have to persevere
you have to insist."
-Andrea Bocelli
"Without leaps of imagination,
or dreams,
we lose the excitement of possibilities.
Dreaming, after all,
is a form of planning."
-Gloria Steinem
U
are
hero
for giving
words such
a place to be
in another mind
are
hero
for giving
words such
a place to be
in another mind
Thank
U
for your
precious time.
U
for your
precious time.
*If I listed you as a hero and you think I revealed something you wish I hadn't, even though I didn't reveal your last name, please tell me privately and I will remove it.
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