A Little Slice of Heaven

Walking back from work today I ran into one of the city's street angels, a homeless man with a big smile named Kevin who for weeks I have seen sitting on the steps of the Cathedral of Hope or on one of the benches that line Penn Avenue in East Liberty. Whenever I walk past we smile and wave and occaisonaly exchange a few words with each other, and I would be lying if I didn't say his presence wasn't one of the reasons I continue making the 45 minute walk each day instead of rushing to get my bike fixed.

Kevin has never asked me for money, though today I did give him a cigarette. He motioned for me to sit on the bench next to him and he asked how my life is going. I said "wonderfully" and gestured to the lovely day around us; and then he started asking about what I do, and why I dropped out of school, nodding his grin as I told him I have learned so much more about myself and life from being out in it and not stuck in a classroom. "Of course" he said, "you look happy because of it, quite comfortable in your skin. And there's nothing more important than being happy." He laughed, and then asked about my religious beliefs. "That's a tricky question to answer these days" I said.

My friend Z and I have an ongoing debate about spirituality, in which she claims she doesn't understand why people need to look for something larger than themselves to believe in. Personally, I was raised Christian, but never believed in their conception of God. But I did learn that being able to believe in more than youreself is a good thing, and since I was young the world has done nothing but show me that this is true. Even trusting in this community we have is believing in something larger than myself, much less trusting that our whole civilization has to operate together to survive, or that the sun will rise tomorrow. It's kind of kin to the myth of self-sustainability, I can't deny that I am just a little part of something much larger. Escpeically with how mind-bogglingly complex and mysterious it all seems to be.

As for "spirituality," that word is one of the more loaded terms I'm stumbling around these days. It comes from the Latin spirare, which means "to breathe." And as far as I am concerned, that is all spirituality is, being aware of my every breath, and with it being fully present in every moment of being alive in this crazy world. Of course, the common usage of that term has so much more packed into it; churches, and communions, and elaborate rituals that have very little to do with the simple act of breathing, and so it is difficult to have people understand what I mean when I say I am a spiritual person. Not that I don't practice rituals, or even once in a blue moon attend mass at the Cathedral of Hope, but for me it is not about "praying to God" or "summoning spirits" but about being directly focused on my actions and their affects. All the symbolic hoopla just gets in the way sometimes, as amusing as it can be. I can reach the same state of awareness from washing dishes that I can meditating in front of a candle flame, and on the more brilliant days everything I do is done with that same presence of care and intention.

"Well, Kevin," I smiled, after explaining a little of this to him, "right now my religion is being here and talking to you, and enjoying the sunlight in the clouds, and the smell of spring flowers that is still noticable through the rushing traffic."

He smiled, and said that if there is a place we go when we die he hopes we run into each other there.

I laughed, and said that I am sure we will run into each other many more times on this street while we are both still here.

Perhaps tomorrow...

Who is the Everyday Avatar? Why you of course!

I'm sitting at work, fighting off what may be a flu? And I realize it's been a week since I posted last, even longer since anyone else has. Is the EA movement already dead?

I dunno, but I was thinking about the concept again the other day. I ran into an old Fraternity Brother on Saturday at Home Depot.

He's a professional artist, and of all the people I may know in town, he's really the one guy I see the most, but we never actually get together and talk.

I'm finally going to call him when I feel less like shit, and what I was wondering was how to describe the past 15 years. He's been a guy with focus and vision, all he's been doing since college is creating art, I've been a guy with a very lack of. I've lived many different lives since then and now I'm just this guy. I don't really do much. Sure I'm learning guitar, and I bike ride, but it seems that the fire has gone out of my life. Perhaps it's a youth thing, perhaps I've been stepped on by The Man too much, who knows. What have I to say to this guy?

Then I remember that I am a god wearing a man suit, and it ceases to matter. The person that is Cap'n Marrrrk is a shell of experiences, some interesting, some not. Who's to say which is which? Certainly not I, as I have no perspective about myself and it all becomes of no consequence because we are all gods posing as humans. All are equal in the big picture.

So I'll call Phil and go down to see his gallery and have a chat knowing that it's not issues of self-esteem or history, but one of everyday godhood.

Meet...Puppet

Last night I did something small scale stupid. I helped my mother purchase a camera on Amazon.

All in all a small thing, right? Unfortunately, that camera was expensive, my mother is living way beyond her means and I should have said "no", I will not help you.

And then the ground opens up for me and I fall into the Abyss, as the excuses, rationalizations and tone of voice that come across the phone begin to sound identical to the ones I made when I wanted my guitar. I bought her knowing full well that any day Alessandra and I would have to pay a shitload of taxes, but damn it I had, had, HAD to have a guitar.

I have mentioned here that I'm an Alcoholic, but that is a 1/2 truth. I am an Alcoholic Personality; it's less about the drug itself than the mental and physical aspects of having that constitution. The constant obsessions, physical cravings and what they call in AA "the mental twist", which causes you to come up with an excuse to have your desire at nearly any cost. It's a fucking drag, and you constantly have to be aware of it or you end up wondering why everyone is mad at you when all you wanted was a little....x.

It's a rude slap in the face and shows the sometimes-great divide between how I perceive myself and how I can behave.

Some say that we choose our bodies and our karmic path before birth; others claim that we can change our bodies and minds on the fly. I don't really much know about that, but I do know it sure sucks to do battle with ones self and desires when it seems to be built into the physiology.

There is of course more, the idea that there are probably deep structure lessons learned from my mother also embedded in me, also disturb me because I am a harsh critic of my mother's behavior and lifestyle and here I am echoing that same behavior. Can we ever escape from parental influence? I'm 38 fucking years old; you'd think I'd be past some of this crap. Let's leave the issue of my inability to say "no" to the therapist. I'm also pretty pissed about that.

I'm currently angry at myself and my weaknesses, even though I love myself unconditionally, it still sucks because I still have desires and cravings for other things that I sometimes take myself up on, even though they are bad for my health.

Today I am not a god disguised as a man, but a god trapped in a fragile and fallible meat sack.

The lesson here, barring the esoteric of which I know nothing, is: "It is what it is". But right now, it is unsatisfactory answer. Perhaps I will have to take a dive into esoterica, but my only problem with that it can lead to head-up-your-assery, and based on my addictions and manias, I am prone to, which is why I ditched to it begin with.

I got me a Soul

Last Sunday I woke with the word "Fuck" groaning from my mouth. The problem with wearing your own Death on your left shoulder as a reminder of your mortality is that you get reminded at off-times YOU ARE GOING TO FUCKING DIE! Really, not the optimal way to wake up on a lovely Sunday morning with your lovely wife sleeping next to you.

I decided at this point, that I'm sick of that kind of bullshit, the kind of torture I've been putting myself through for the past few years. I decided that it's time to start believing in the Soul again.

It's been a few years since I had such thoughts, and I know I have no proof of Soul, no Overmind, nor any sort of post-life experience, but when looking at the Void, I decided I'll take fantasy over fact in this instance. Really, waking up with "Fuck." on my lips and not as part of the sentence, "I love it when you fuck me while I sleep." (which I've never uttered by the way), is just not a good way to start the day.

Theoretically I'm dead anyway. My thoughts are a byproduct of my biolotical processes which are in turn just things that happen. The atoms that make up my body are no different than the atoms that make up rocks, so at that level all is the same.

I live in a phenominological world. Shit happens all the time without my awareness. Honestly, what do I know? Why the fuck not believe in a soul?

So there you go. I guess the bottomline supposition is if I'm going to run a blog about taking on the aspects of gods from drawn from the various sources of fiction and/or collective unconscious, there is no harm in believing that I have a personal soul that lives on after I die.

I once spoke Russian

Or at least, had some people believing I could.

Years ago when I worked for Trader Joe's, I noticed that we had a rather sizeable Russian customer base. So I decided to learn a few simple phrases to impress them with at the cash register.
Real simple stuff:
Zdravstvujte! How do you do?
Do svidaniya! Good bye! (Literally: See you next time!)
Izvini (te) Excuse me
Pozhalujsta Please or It's a pleasure
Spasiba Thank you etc.

Some co-workers happened to overhear me use these phrases with customers, and I'd beam at their looks of puzzlement, and mild astonishment.
I have always made a habit of putting on the overcoat of mystery and intrigue when around other people. I like to keep them guessing about me. I would say it was a motivating factor in my learning those phrases, just as I had done at another job with Japanese (little of which I now recall).
It often backfires.

One day, it backfired. I get a call over the intercom that a group of Russian ladies need my help.
So I head on over, and four little Russian ladies barrage me with questions in Russian.
Trouble was, I never learned how to say K sozhaleniyu, ya poka ne govoryu po russki.

You try prounouncing that.

This was embarrassing enough. But another night, years earlier and this time a drunken one with my girlfriend and her friends whom I had just met, I tried something similar.
Only this time, I started making up shit that I thought sounded Russian,attempting to quote John Cleese from A Fish Called Wanda, thinking there is no way any of these people spoke Russian. They were just some goth kids after all.

To the short, one of the girls spoke fluent Russian.
None of that nonsense was Russian, she proclaimed in English, then Russian, and none of it sounded remotely like Russian.

Thaedra broke up with me the next day.

But just imagine the uncomfortable silence that followed. Imagine how the night progressed from there.

Clash of the Avatars

I saw the Forces of God battle with the Forces of Satan today in the local bakery. Or maybe it was a couple of lunatics stomping on an innocent elf. It's so hard to tell.

I was waiting in line to get a loaf of sourdough. Tourist season has begun around here, and there were two tourists -- a guy and his wife -- in front of me, dithering about what kind of coffee they wanted. These were your usual "rich & retired" tourists, the most annoying members of the tourist beastiary. They often combine arrogance, rudeness, idiocy and the power of wealth in a single package.

On the third try, the guy finally decided that yes, he wanted a cup of coffee, and yes, he would like it to go, please. I heard the whole line behind me thanking their personal deities for helping the gentleman with his momentous decision.

I didn't mind waiting too much, really, because the lady working the counter, Norta, was one of my favorites. She's pretty and all, but what she really is is sexy. The way she moves, the way she looks at people when talking with them, is sexier than hell. I can tell from watching her over the past year that she doesn't do this on purpose. She doesn't behave any differently with the men or the women, the children or the adults. It's just how she is.

So I passed the time enjoying watching her. A festival is going on, and she was wearing a pair of short, cute little horns she picked up there. She wore them well, and they combined with her sensuous smile in an infernally erotic way that will undoubtably be fuel for my fantasies for quite some time. Perhaps, I thought later, she was having the same effect on the indecisive tourist. It would explain much.

Suddenly, the guy's wife pipes up.

"What do those horns represent, young lady?" She actually said "young lady". The tone of the question was such that if all the latte-sippers suddenly jumped up from their tables and upended them in preparation for a coffee-bar brawl, it wouldn't have seemed out of place.

"What do you mean?"

I didn't understand the lady's next question, but swore I heard the word "horny" in there somewhere. Norta looked a bit taken aback, then smiled uncertainly and said "no, they definitely don't mean that."

With that, the lady stormed out of the place, literally shoving aside a few customers to get to the door, dragging her husband along. There was a whiff of fear and anger about her, and she couldn't get out of the place fast enough.

Norta looked baffled. "What did she say?" I asked. "She asked if my horns meant I was a bride of Satan," she said, "but they're only elf horns!"

It is a curious battle indeed that leaves the victor unaware of the fight.

The Right Reverend Cap'n Marrrrk

Today I get to be a wedding officient. I like officiating weddings because it's then when I can become the Everday Avatar because I am the Shaman at the Transformation. I was given Carte Blanche to write the vows. Here is what I came up with:

I went looking for good quotes about marriage, but they were all very disparaging. Really, who wants to hear things like:

“Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.” Or “Love-matches are made by people who are content, for a month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar.”

No one wants to hear this. These are words from cynics. Marriage is one of the most rewarding endeavors one can face, second only to Parenthood. And here you are stepping through one threshold and looking down a very short hallway to the next doorway.

Marriage is what you make it. It is an organic construct that you have to be conscious of at all times or it will be hi-jacked by your most basic, selfish desires and die.

With a shortened timetable between Marriage and Parenthood it is imperative for you both to learn about each other’s needs, weaknesses and strengths; intertwine and compliment them. To build a strong house. And when Baby comes, remember to not focus solely on the child and transfer all of your love and affection to him or her, but keep a large portion for yourselves. Remember that love is inclusive, not exclusive, and not limited by number.

As it was told to me, and as I share it at every wedding I perform: Marriage is a transformation of two individuals into Family. A bond has been created that somehow transcends time and space yet is rock solid. You are Family and that means everything that comes with it: the terrifying, the tediously mundane and the victories both small and large.

So it is at this place where I am done talking and offering unasked for advice. I turn it over to you both.

Please repeat after me:

I, Brian, promise to infuse you with my love and not hold you to any conscious and unconscious, wifely preconceptions that I may have. To stick by you through all the joys and hassles-big and small that life will throw at us, to do my best to love and respect you above all others. I also promise not to let you get kidnapped by evil clowns and sold into slavery in Morocco. If you say, “Yes”, I'll worship you as my Best Friend, Lover and Partner.


I, Ashley, promise enfold you in my love and allow you to be the person that you are. To keep you in my heart through everything life offers, and to do my best to love and respect you above all others. I also promise you that I really do think Rovers are the greatest vehicle ever and to never tell anyone about that thing that you do, that you made me promise not to tell anyone about. If you say, “Yes”, I'll worship you as my Best Friend, Lover and Partner.

oops, gotta run

Whattayaknow...it sometimes works...

As remarked upon over at No Touch Monkey!, shit was going to hit the fan today at work. However, not mentioned there as it was not the place, I had managed to invoke some sort of spiritual avatar right before the meeting. I had, earlier in the day, and last night, spoken my affirmation and reminded myself that my Death rides my left shoulder. There are problems in the world that go far, far deeper than the wrong ad going to the publication. I experienced a sort of bi-location of above and below, as if I were a god wearing a Marrrrk suit, and I was ready to stare my professional death in the eye.

Fortunately I didn't have to actually test my resolve, but I like to think I was ready. I wasn't too scared, but then again I wasn't there for anything I had actually been responsible for.

There you go and so it was.

I'm sorry to report that the Mailman story has a mundane ending.
Turns out he did know it was her.

In other news, it occurred to me last night that my wife might have placed a spell on me some years ago that makes me invisible to other women. If I break the barrier and make contact, I creep them out. It's not like I'm trying to seduce anyone, either. Just trying to make friends, but I keep coming off like a perverted old man.
I'm not lerring or drooling, just being friendly.

It has been said that a good number of women find men my age attractive. I have yet to meet such a woman, besides my wife, who is around my age anyway.
Maybe in 10 years, when I am 50, this phenomena will kick in.

Temporary Setback

Fear runs amok in my life. Most of it had been in the form of freefloating anxiety, apparently for a long time. I was a rotten doper. I'd get high enjoy it for a half hour or so then freak out.

Now it's mostly episodic, and it comes and goes. Unfortunatley after only a few weeks being gone...it's back.

EA here is about the victories and the daily failures of what happens when we try to invoke a god(dess) avatar. (I know the ladies swing by occasionally ;). ). Right now it seems that I am too grounded in the material to touch the divine within me.

I have occupational issues, and I wonder if I'm suited for my occupation. Worse, I fear that my employers question my occupational suitablity. I also question my own diminishing attention span and increasing forgetfulness, and Fear it's some sort of Alzheimer's precursor.

Perhaps I'm going through a midlife crisis. I don't much know. I don't have anything to compare it to.

So, I've been saying my Affirmation daily, but the ability to channel any sort of spiritual energy seems to be choked by the daily dose of fear I am currently experiencing. Of course this is not an Internet call for help. I have a shrink I can see about such things. I'm just keeping you all abreast of my daily excursions into and out of Everyday Avatar.

A Better Condom?

Like most men, I have a hate-hate relationship with condoms. On the one hand, they help you avoid diseases that can kill you or worse. On the other hand, they make intercourse less enjoyable.

Reducing the stimulation of intercourse wouldn't be so bad, really. I like it as much as anyone, but it is only one part of a lot of things that I like. If it's not quite up to snuff, it's a relatively small thing. However, having problems keeping a raging hard-on going is something I've had when using condoms. It makes me fear them a little -- not many things are more uncomfortable and embarrassing than trying to cover for an iffy stiffy.

These condoms sound like they could at least fix that problem. It could be a huge step forward in getting more men to wear the damned things. I'm eager to give them a shot.