I've been standing on the edge of this publishing dock for ages, and all I want to do is jump in... or is that all I want to do?  Yes, I think so.  I've always thought so.  It's been somewhere near the front of my mind, if not in the front of my mind, just about every waking moment since I got off the road three years ago.

So why don't I just do it?  I mean, I've already published online for free and on Amazon for a buck or three, so why not finally introduce myself to the agent or the publishing company?  Well, one of themes I write about is developing one's intuition, and trusting it once you've become familiar with it and learned it yields positive results.  So whenever I say, "That's it, I'm doing it!" the same intuition which has successfully and safely guided me around the globe, again and again, pipes in with, "Whoa... just wait, trust me. Trust me, it will happen when you want it to.  I know, I know, you've been waiting forever, and you know this is the only logical next step in your journey, and that the people you've been telling about it who probably don't even care anymore are probably getting tired of hearing you say 'I just gotta start getting a wider distribution...'  I know, I know, I know... but you have to trust me on this one and keep living the life you're supposed to until then.  There is much before you to improve you and prepare you for the right moment when it does come."  Sometimes I smile and accept, and other times I rage and throw a fit (inside my mind).  But that can only go on so long.  Arguing with something no one can see and no one else can communicate with (that is, unless they've found their own personal channel) is, well, frustrating.

You see, if this water jump thingy weren't a metaphor, I would easily, speedily, and enthusiastically jump in.  I do it all the time... with real water.  The water might be cold sometimes, but I know it's going to be cold, so it isn't a problem.  But with this metaphor, I have no idea what the temperature is going to be.  Or whether or not there's a six inch layer of ice awaiting me.

Just about every hero I know has warned me that the reception is probably going to be frigid, or at best, lukewarm, and will slowly get better through time and repeated jumps.  Yes, reality, but not exciting after ten years of practice.

Were this a real body of water, I also would know whether or not the waters are shallow or deep; whether I'll be able to swim gracefully with the waves... or will be nursing some broken bones for months to come.

And when I'm jumping into a real lake and not just a figurative one, I know if people are watching me or not.  I know if people are going to celebrate if I make a huge cannonball splash, or laugh if I cry out in pain at the water's temperature or the zebra mussel slicing my toe.

Scariest of all, when I jump in the water, I don't hang in the air for three weeks to six months, depending on just what kind of jump I'm attempting.

On top of all of that, when I can see the water right there in front, as a physical entity, I'm aware that this is the correct body of water in which I should be jumping.  I know I want to be jumping into a lake, or river, or running into the ocean, as the case may be.

My final reservation about this whole business is, well, the business.  If I want to exchange money for goods and services, I have to sell the things I produce.  Once that gets going, fine, but temporarily becoming my own agent and businessman and marketer and so on is a role I have never had to play.  Thinking and writing is a completely different pursuit.  And then there are the results of the jump: what if my life changes drastically with success, or worse, what if nobody notices?

Having read the above, I've concluded several things.  1st, I've decided that jumping off the dock isn't a great metaphor if I can find plenty of reasons for why the metaphor isn't apt.  More importantly, I've realized that all of these fears are pretty much the same fears I've had before traveling, or making any large life decisions: I don't know what is going to happen, so I must trust my judgment, and if that doesn't work the first time, keep trying, and trust the creativity of the universe to bring about a pleasing publication.... that is, once I've jumped in

I wake up to a world that gives me the life I love, even if I have to work hard at enjoying life by helping others enjoy life

Thanks, Cap'n

Well, I never used to cry while listening to "Born to Run," but I guess that's going to be a thing now

If I had kept a journal back then, I would know if it was actually the exact same day...

You see, in the year 2006, I was living in Brooklyn, one of the five boroughs of New York City, that place everybody knows wherever you happen to go.  I had just moved into my first official apartment, making me a resident of the city, that is, if you don't count the month I'd spent in my friend's apartment before we all got evicted because they were all behind on rent and utilities.

Anyway, we'd had to move during a heat wave, when the temperature exceeded 100 degrees several days in a row.  On top of that, I'd moved into this place with my friend's roommate, and I didn't know her that well.  The pressure and immediacy of needing to move found us sharing a railroad apartment together.  That meant we had to walk through each other's rooms to get to the living room, kitchen and bathroom.

Obviously it would be awkward, but she had a boyfriend, and I'd had a female roommate in New Zealand, just as part of a larger group, so I thought it would be alright for the foreseeable future.  Then again, I didn't have a job or really know anyone in the city since my friend had left.  I just knew I wanted an adventure and I wanted to tell a story about it later.  Well, I got a good start for any poetic adventure: in a powerless apartment on a hot night in a noisy, dirty city.  I say powerless because the previous tenants had been so far behind on their electric and gas payments that the power company had actually had their meters removed.  Thus, we couldn't just call up, sign up and flip a switch.  They were going to have to come in a few days to install new meters, and since Queens had been experiencing brownouts for about a week, it was going to take longer than usual.  I remember after we'd moved the final boxes inside and we were standing in the kitchen.  She was looking out the window, smoking a cigarette.  I realized I didn't know who she was at all.  I looked around.  Our new apartment was much smaller than I'd remembered.  And it was dark. And I didn't know anybody else.

So I went to visit relatives on Long Island for a few days.  That's where I'd grown up, made friends, became obsessed with sports, and worshiped the New York Mets and various other teams, before moving to upstate New York when I was eleven.

When I returned, the power was on, and I happily took a shower.  If I remember correctly, it was the next day that I got an email or a call from my former girlfriend's new boyfriend (and future husband).  We were all friends, and that turned out to be a very good thing on that day, because her future husband offered me four tickets to a taping of The Daily Show the next day.  They had entered some lottery to get seats a long time before, but it turned out they wouldn't be able to use them, and knew that I'd just moved to the city.  I was happy to oblige, but I didn't know who I could share them with.  My roommate had to work, and her boyfriend wasn't my cup of tea.  I offered him the ticket, and he said he'd rather see The Colbert Report, which... what?  Yeah, that's a great show too, but if someone offers you a free trip to Hawaii, you don't say you prefer the Bahamas.  Anyway, he had to work also.  So I got a hold of some friends of my friend, whom I had met a few weeks before, and they said they could go.  Then I learned a fellow comedy writer from college was in town for the summer, so I texted him and he accepted as well.

We had to wait in line for a very long time before the show, which was strange, because we were supposedly guaranteed tickets.  Luckily, since it was in the upper 90's, they gave us red, white and blue ice pops while we stood in a roped area mostly in the shade.  Thank you, Jon.  'Twas delicious.

Before that, the friend of my friend's friend had ridiculed my other meal in line, which was a piece of admittedly lacking lemonish cake I'd quickly purchased at a nearby bodega because I was in a hurry.  I admit it hadn't tasted good at all and wasn't good for me, but I was new in the city and didn't know where to get anything, let alone cook healthy meals for myself.  He went on and on about the evils of high fructose corn syrup, and really wouldn't let it go for a long time.

We got halfway through the ice pops when I pointed out to him that the thing he was sucking on was practically pure high fructose corn syrup, which promptly caused him to freak out, offering the rest to us.  We did not oblige him, so he threw it away.  Then he asked us to hold his place in line while he went to smoke a cigarette.  Ya gotta love Williamsburg.  Soon after that they finally let us in to get seated, and there it was, the studio I'd seen on television so many times...

Since I'd grown up on a farm without cable or satellite television, it wasn't until the spring of 2003 that I first watched The Daily Show, which also happened to be the beginning of "Operation Iraqi Freedom," which they accomplished very quickly, and everything has been going swimmingly in that area ever since.

I was a freshman at Cornell, and I was the only one in my group of friends who was openly against the war.  I remember the first time I'd even heard of the idea on network news, the previous summer, and I'd thought, "Seriously?"  I'm sure a few others might have entertained doubts about the mission quietly, but they didn't care enough to make their opinions known.  That's how I found myself debating the issue with several other people playing Mario Kart 64.  Yes, that's who's gonna run your future, world: people who discuss politics while racing plumbers against giant apes, talking mushrooms, smiley dinosaurs, fire breathing dragons and princesses.  The strange thing is, that game had made all of them more passionate than they'd ever be about politics.  On this night, though, everyone had ganged up on me, even the ones who claimed to be Democrats, and soon I was being attacked with eventual name calling.  That's when I walked out of the room.  They could disagree with me, but I wasn't going to have my intelligence insulted by people who were getting their information from a cable news station on in the background while they played more video games.  And yes, I know The Daily Show is on cable, but I was getting my news from about 100 sources at the time, because I cared, and I loved that other people could share their opinions by writing and making me feel less alone because my heart was alive and others were helping my mind learn how to keep that going.

We didn't talk much about the war after that, but within half a year, at least the ones I remain friends with to this day, conceded what the war had turned out to be just what you would expect war to be, and mostly for the same exact reasons I had given them during the epic Mario Kart debate of aught three.  And none of them had been any of the name callers to begin with anyway.  That is, during the political debate.  We called each other all sorts of names because of Mario Kart 64.

That's when Jon came in.  Well, not into the room, literally, but he was on the TV.  At the time, I just thought he was another comedian with a television show.  He wasn't the obvious leftist he openly describes himself as now, so the other guys, even the conservatives, would sometimes watch him, as long as he was funny.  But for me, I felt like I was finally hearing someone doubt America's actions in public for the first time since that day in September.  I love this country, so that's why I didn't want us to stir up a region that might create a larger anti-western organization in the future and yeah, yeah, you know the rest.  That, and I didn't want people to kill each other or bombs to be dropped on children.

After that, Jon became one of my major lifelines for sanity.  At the time I was pretty depressed about the college adjustment, being away from my family and friends, and the stuff I was learning about politics wasn't exactly making me optimistic either.  The Daily Show, with ace hosting by Jon Stewart and impeccable support from Stephen Colbert, Ed Helms, and Rob Corddry, not only helped me laugh it off, but also enlightened me.  They brought me stories I would never see on the network news.  Best of all, as time went on, Jon found ways to put some of the ideas I'd had in my head into words.  Not only that, but he had the courage and skill to say it on TV.  The knowledge that other people were seeing him and mostly agreeing with him seemed to make the world a better place in and of itself.

I think it was a pretty steady bet that during the four years I spent in college, a large majority of us would be watching The Daily Show at 11 pm on any given week night, whether or not we were studying, writing a paper, drunk or stoned.  I kept it up until I graduated and moved to New York City, because I didn't have cable, and wouldn't buy my first TV until several months ago (I still don't have cable).

Thus, it was pretty special to start my journey in New York City by seeing one of the great masters do his thing in front of us.  I have no idea what the theme was that day, but it was worth the wait in line.

I somehow survived that year, and moved to Queens with some friends.  They had a huge TV and wanted cable so they could at least watch The Daily Show live.  I was into it for a little while, but I had a lot going on in my mind at the time, and politics wasn't doing it for me at that time.  I was in love with a new girl, I had a new job, and I was looking for some answers to some pretty lofty cosmic questions.  On top of that, I was feeling disillusioned about the political process, having spent four years learning many of the systemic patterns which drive history and just how much compromise is needed by even the most goodhearted and well-meaning politicians to get anything done to actually make life better for most people.  Also, while in college, I'd met certain liberal representatives in the student assembly who were completely full of it.  They would pretend to be your best friend the moment they met you, and then organize people to help them put up banners and flyers for their campaigns, and then act like they didn't know you as soon as they got elected or joined a rich fraternity.  There's one in particular I can think of who wouldn't even give me a look of recognition when we had government classes together junior year, and he had been roommates with someone who is still one of the best friends I know.  He eventually got ousted for some sort of scandal involving misconduct in the elections, or something to that effect.  People like that made me wonder about the kinds of humans who run for office, regardless of their platforms.  And on top of all of that, the Bush administration was winding down, so we wondered where Jon Stewart would get his material.

To make a long story short, it was years before I began watching the show again.  In fact, I haven't really watched any TV consistently in the past nine years except for The Daily Show, South Park, and Louis.

I started watching again in 2013 because I lived in a pretty bare room near the 101 freeway in San Francisco, having spent the better part of three years traveling.  I didn't know many people in the city, and the few I did know had flaked on me.  I just had a job teaching foreign students to speak English.  My mattress sat on the floor, and I had a coffee table I'd found on the street, but no desk, and only a camping chair in which to rest.  For some reason, watching Jon Stewart each morning made me feel connected somehow.  When all those cars were racing by in the morning, I remembered the world out there was real and alive, and his reporting of the news of the day helped me keep going.

You see, even though I had just done a pretty thorough job of getting to know America's landscapes and the people who enjoyed them, I felt like a stranger in this country.  Whatever I saw on TV or read in a paper made me feel disconnected from the mass.  I could do fine with anyone if I met them in real life and had a conversation, but as for the zeitgeist, I was out of the loop.  So when I finally stopped running and got myself my first apartment in the states in four years, I felt like I needed to hear a familiar voice.

After all, someone had to explain to me why I'd read a news article about the "outrage" of the supposed "Tea" Party (few who truly drink tea express outrage, at least, that is, soon after having consumed this gift from the Gods) over the amount of taxes they had to pay, and how most of them were reasonably affluent.  That is, at least in comparison to the limbless orphans I'd been encountering in southern Asia.  Someone had to call them out in public.  I knew he was doing it anyway, but I really needed him to, and I'll always be thankful that he did.

----------------------

I had ten pages left in this book when I got off the subway on the way to work last night.  The last sentence I read before entering the classroom was about Boston's "86 year championship drought."  That made me think of '86, when the New York Mets defeated the Boston Red Sox to win their most recent World Series, forcing the Sox to wait another 18 years to win it all.  I had been 2 at the time, so as far back as I can remember, I entered a world where the Mets were the best team in baseball... even if they would be the worst team in baseball when I actually started watching their games in 1993.

Part of the lesson involved asking embarrassing questions so that the students could practice avoiding questions by responding, "I prefer not to answer that."  I playfully picked on something about each student so they could answer, and then they got a chance to say the same to me.  One of them, a Dominican student, was wearing a Mets hat, so I asked him why he was wearing a Mets hat, hoping that the "I'd rather not say" response would be comical somehow.  I actually got a serious answer.  Thus, I soon found myself teaching baseball terms ("front runner," "underdog," "favorite," and "fair weather fan," i.e. me with the Mets lately) and the story of Game 6 of the '86 World Series to the Dominican student in the Mets hat.  It turned out he really loved the Red Sox, because of David Ortiz.  The Mets hat was actually an All-Star Game hat from the year the Mets hosted.  When I learned this, I informed him that as long as he didn't like the Yankees, we would still have harmony between us.  If you like the Yankees, though, we can still enjoy each other's company.  They're hitting a ball, after all.

Then again, what they do with that ball can make even my heroes cry with joy.  When I got to work today, I knew I was going to make my "Raise the Issues" class watch a few Daily Show clips.  I pulled up the website on the desktop and saw that the thumbnail for the previous night's episode was of the New York Mets and the National League East baseball standings.  The Mets are in 1st place.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Mr. Stewart was very happy about that.  I also heard he's moving to a farm in New Jersey, the Garden State, supposedly the arch rival of my homeland New York... I'm happy for him.

Speaking of which, Jon is taping his final show as I write.  Either that or he just finished.  Whatever he's doing right now, today is 8/6, and I hope he knows that, whether he feels this way, he's been hitting walk-off homers on a daily basis for far longer than any human could be asked to, and he's been doing it for all of us blessed enough to understand why he's worked so hard to make laughter, and learn to love learning about the world in which we all have to live with each other

Good things that happened today:

I met my new class of students in the morning, having completed two months of business before vacation.  I am once again with students of the highest level, but now I am teaching a class called "Raise the Issues" with listening's from NPR.  I was happy to learn that the class is overbooked, with 23 students, and five already on the waiting list.

When I returned to my evening classes, I was greeted upon arrival in the hallway with plenty of, "Teacher!  How was your vacation?" from many a warm, familiar face.

As I arrived at my apartment in Harlem, I heard someone say from behind me, "Hey Ben!"  I turned around, very confused, and recognized one of my old students from the evening classes, a music producer from Ecuador.  He was with a smiling girl.  This was actually the second time he'd walked by as I'd entered my apartment, the other being upon return from a visit upstate.  That time he had invited me to a free meal at the restaurant he manages up the street.  He reminded me, and I think I will soon

When I spend a lot of time in nature for so long, I start to wonder why I live in such a crowded city, especially since the Newport Jazz Festival just showed me how you can have a funky yet sophisticated music fest in a gorgeous outdoor setting.  There is so much space out there!  Then again, as I have learned, people stand in subway doors all over the world, and they drive slowly in the passing lane when there are only two lanes on busy weekends, and they somehow fit in real human conversation and meetings of eyes in between all the attention spent on those small screens... and I feel blessed when these true humans make me feel welcome, wherever I am

Thank you, musicians, and thank you landscapes, for a perfect vacation

festival!