Expose

The Filler Episode.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch."  Jack Nicholson

Remember in the middle of the third season of Lost when these two attractive extras were granted a speaking line or two and you wondered who the hell are they and why are they taking up my precious screen time on a Thursday night.  And then you wondered for a second if they were going to become an integral part of the show, a key to a door that held the answer to one of the many mysteries of Lost.  Well maybe you shared these thoughts or more likely you carried on with your life.

Five years ago, when this happened, I was thoroughly absorbed with Lost.   Along with countless others perched in front of the television on this Thursday Night, I became a victim of a dirty trick set by the Lost writing team.  The writers went ahead, and, drum roll, gave them their very OWN Nikki and Paolo centric episode, RIGHT when the season was building towards its final  five episode climax.   They didn't stop there now that they had your attention too! They delivered a perfectly timed, well conceived and in-and-out torturous..dun dun dun.. filler episode!

To make this quick, because I'd rather not think of it.  The plot had nothing to do with the rest of the show and they had the audacity to kill the two characters at the end of the episode.  And those bastards in the writing room, who've successfully detracted your attention for a full hour and offered no light or new perspective into the rest of the Lost universe, were probably laughing their heads off because they made you enjoy it.  I was so angry that when the twist ending happened, I couldn't appreciate the.. *takes deep breaths* well-made episode.  The feeling of reluctant anger brooded within me for a week and then the next episode blew me away and we got right back on track.

Well, Lost is over now after six years, and I miss it, but I live in Hawai'i, so life goes on right ... right? :)  This post wasn't meant to be about Lost, rather, it is a 'filler post.'  Something lighter, after-all, taking it easy and laughing til your stomach hurts are VERY worthwhile pursuits!

In light of recently rewatching High Fidelity, I'm making some conventional and some not so conventional Top 5 lists with conventional and not so conventional selections.  Try posting some of your own Top 5 lists or borrow some of mine!  It's a fun exercise that helps express how you are feeling in the moment.  Even if you don't share them.  

Dream Jobs (realistic or not)

Working as a Park Ranger or Tourguide on the Moon

Pirate, minus the pillaging and plundering - the parrot, beard, life at sea, bartering, and of course, rum.

Landowner, home builder, family man - build good community, own lots of land, have lots of animals, grow lots of edible and medicinal plants and fruit trees.

Cirque du Soleil Trapeze Artist

Film Director and Writer

Working in the wilderness with children, teaching a survival skills class

Head Chef, Co-Owner and Supplyer of Produce for 'The Green House: an Eatery made from Ground Up.' 

(So I went two over.  It's better to dream than not.)

People to share dinner and a movie with

Jenny Lewis (singer)

Penelope Cruz (goddess)

Charles Bukowski (poet)

Johnny Depp (Johnny Depp)

George Carlin or Steven Wright (comedians)

Songs preferred in high quality, high volume speakers

Oh Sweet Nothin'  - Velvet Underground

Uncle John's Band  - Grateful Dead

Good Vibrations - The Beach Boys

Octopus Garden - The Beatles

America  - Simon and Garfunkel

You Can't Always Get What You Want - The Rolling Stones

Comfort foods (limiting myself to one food category)

Fresh out of the oven cinnamon raisin bagel with lox and cream cheese

A scoop of vanilla ice cream over a warm brownie drizzled with chocolate sauce.

A slice of New York pizza

Homemade Warm Berry Pie with Lattice Top and Whipped Cream

Good scrambled eggs with onions, meat and potatoes, smothered in cheese and gravy.

Un crepe de gateau. :-)

Places you'd love to Visit

The Pyramids in Egypt

Ireland

Mt. Kilimanjaro

Italy

Milford Sound

Brazil

Ideal places to fall asleep

Beach (sound of the ocean and the stars)

Tree House or Hammock (falling asleep suspending in the air, you know, like an ewok)

Jurassic Park

In the woods by a fire

Warm bed at home

Sensory experiences

Headphones in bed at night, possibly with a single candle lit

The silence and atmosphere at the summit of a mountain on a clear day

Seeing an action film in theaters roughly 12 rows up in a decent-sized stadium seating theatre

Being around a bonfire at night with friends, guitars and drums

Watching butter melt on fresh bread 5 minutes out of the oven, then consuming it!

Impractical Personal Items you Would Love to Travel with

A really nice set of pots, pans, knives, temperature gauges

Bean Bag Chairs

Typewriter

A Library of books (don't feed me the you can carry every book in the world in your pocket bs.  I like to read print, and dare I say the soon to be obsolete lost art of 'handwriting.')

A portable yurt (there's a task for Apple, build a shelter that fits in your pocket)

Poets with an instrument, be-it pen, mind, guitar, what have you.

Jimi Hendrix equipped with a guitar

William Blake equipped with words

Guy Garvey equipped with a voice (Elbow's Lead Singer and Lyricist)

Jack Kerouac equipped with knowledge of how to live

Leonardo Da Vinci equipped with a brain.

Relevant quotes you'd like to share with the 'leaders of the free world'

If we could read the secret histories of our enemies, we shoud find in each persons life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.

We cannot live only for ourselves.  A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.

Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you.

What does Marcellus Wallace look like?

What's in store for me in the direction I don't take.

All my answers are prone to change in 5 minutes. I'm not going to revise this, though I might make some late additions.  It turns out this takes a little more time and thought than in the pre-scripted movie.

Stay Tuned for Scenes from Next Week's APW Blog:

WOMAN: You hear that?

MAN: Hear what?

WOMAN: Everything around us, it's beautiful.

MAN: You talkin' birds and traffic and stuff?

WOMAN: Yes, it's always playing, and it's so pretty, even the silence.

MAN: Yeah, it's allright.  I like the sound an inflated balloon makes when you let the air out.

WOMAN:  All the sound in the world is music, one big beautiful melody.

MAN: Yeah, suppose I should pay more attention it. 

*MAN belches, hums a tune, and walks off.*

BOY:  When I grow up, I'm gonna be an astronaut.  I'm gonna go find life in space and trade my skills

as a super-cool spaceman to live with them.

GIRL:  When I grow up, I want to have 12 kids all one year older than the last, and I'm going to cook

all day long and bake the bestest cookies.

BOY:  I'll be a better astronaut than you a cookie baking mom!

GIRL:  I'll bake space cookies that will attack your belly once you eat them.

BOY:  I won't eat your cookies now that you told me!

GIRL:  I'll shove them in your mouth when you're sleeping!

BOY:  I'll learn in space how to build an immunity to dangerous space cookies that attack your belly!

GIRL:  Well, I'll be here, on Earth, building a family and being good to others.

BOY:  I'll be in space, exploring new frontiers, finding how to make mankind better!  

GIRL:  We all play our part.

BOY:   We may as well put on our best performance.

Worthwhile Pursuit: Poetry

Poetry plays an important role in my life.  It has become an outlet for me, a filing cabinet to organize the ideas in my mind and my soul.  On my 19th birthday, after living a full 18 years, I wrote my first poem, and wrote over 50 in the next 6 months.  Over the past 3 years I've compiled another 100 or so. I plan to continue to write throughout my life, unless something compels me to stop.

I wish to unveil here a sample of my poetry. I have both longer and shorter and different attempts at poetry, but I generally stick to free verse. I've never shared this on a public scale, only to friends who have been in the same room as me. This is a personal subject, though some poems are more personal than others.  I share here a few, because more than anything, I'm interested in feedback. To improve at writing is to learn to be criticized.  Well, hope you take something reading this, and if you don't feel comfortable leaving any comments, I thank you for allowing me to share this with you.



forgoing sensibility

clyde sleeps
in his two bedroom apartment
accompanied by nurturing blankets
two tall impressionist paintings that hang symmetrically
on each wall
a final thought of forgiveness and
one eye open

his hunger his paranoia his tribulations
all rectified through his
one eye open

clyde dreams
in his floating misty castle
just the right temperature
six martian women
all immaculately curved

his face saturates the bed with sweat
his paintings breathe life
his ceiling plunges to an inch below his face

clyde swims below
to meet his adversary
in a game
of chess

clyde desires and insists
that he can beat anyone at chess
while conscious
while sleeping
while dreaming
all with one eye open

as clyde’s expected adversary
i wonder
i assume
i hope
that clyde wears an eye patch


Dartboard on a Hot Air Balloon

I cracked a joke and
reached behind my back
to grab my bow

a frog pulled my pant leg
apparently he was against
aimless shooting

ignorant frog!
I was targeting the hot air balloon
carrying 600 school children
wearing the exact same uniform
that will pass precisely at
midnight

waiting
immobile as a cliff
I hoisted my arrow back to
its breaking point

inanimate objects, oxford commas and frogs
all hope for a
bulls-eye
in the name of
perfection

I hope      
for their sake
I don't dissappoint them


A Story Met With Derision

I awoke into a third dream
apparently two wasn't sufficient
this one though
was penultimate
I could feel it

the chainsaw was difficult to come by
but when there is a will
there is a way
I've never destroyed
like I did that night
and boy,
I finally felt
springtime

a cowboy, a fighter pilot, a pirate, a boxer
and a stage for us
against evil
against me,
I'm ready

this one plays out
as I write
and reminisce
the times I didn't get caught
having sex in public,
what a rush

here’s to a life
upholding irrational claims
hoping sloppily organized words make sense
when the lights dim
cheers


want

they want a war or a lawsuit, a way
to justify their lives with a social logic
which coincidentally falls asleep with the sun
not a tiptoeing gypsy racing against highway traffic
or a mocking laughter causing the contours
of our faces to cringe the way they would
after a beating from local fists.

bukowski wants a quiet finish line
even if that entails enduring a quiet surrender
while drinking in the irony at a fixed race
my ears want ceaseless drumming
to remind my heart not to shrink and
shrivel
when the inevitable is asked of it

this poem wants to evolve but is
inhibited
by the space on this page

we want our words to rest
in decrepid alleyways
where we singsong most lucidly
in crevices of bedroom floors
where we rarely lay supine without a
cushion
though the spiders never complained

i want a time machine to correct the wrongs
my blackened eyes witness
just as the moon every couple of weeks
is able to reboot and shine onto our laps
its fresh burning soul

i want to run
until the ends of time
to a sacred green field
where the grasshopper
and preying mantis
exchange phone numbers


The Spirit of the West

when you're at a loss
fret not, an infusion
of vibrations
will express themselves to you
in gift wrapping with your name
on it, signed by:
the mystics

I tipped the bartender double,
(he shares your forename)
Frank the bartender;
he wore shades, a hat and
an irrevocable smile

Frank, not you, served me
a double shot of whiskey to which
I replied ‘thanks,’ and
left him some green placed
neatly under the coaster

I discreetly made my way out
with casual clicks from the sparks,
a tip of the hat and arms outstretched

following tradition, I busted
through the loosely hinged
double doors without the intent
of looking back

under a slanted hat, two
incandescent eyes from the dingy corner
scrutinize my every step
enabling me to question
what lights my feet as I walk outside,
if not the sun?


Long Island Doldrums 

I hear the train coming
as
I trespass
into northern skies

she
Tells me
I’ve accomplished more in my room
than
The zookeeper’s elusive daughter

take that
            Alley cat.      
enjoy your breakfast, I bet
it’s as delicious as yellow fever

she
Reassures me
the walls are not shrinking, ‘It’s
you
who is growing.’

with a hand supine
and
fingers on the fringe
of sussing the candle’s wick,

the Watch’s hands tick
ticktick      

tick


Mahalo,
Matthew K.

Forgot Daylight Savings Time Doesn't Apply Here

Quick Disclaimer for my All New Pursuits Worthwhile Post:
This post evolves from a movie review into a thought about artists into a promotion for 'All (New) Pursuits Worthwhile' into a self-examination into a poem into a concluding thought.  Similar to way the world is shifting, there is a lot of movement in a short period of time.


Kill Bill Vol. 1 - A shocking, violent revenge film with a purpose.  Tarantino aims to amaze and exceed expectation and  he doesn't fail to deliver.  In the first installment of this samurai meets western movie about a woman whose sole purpose in life has become to Kill Bill, we are taught that every extreme action brings about an equal or greater reaction.

When a bride wakes up from a four year coma to discover her baby is dead and her most recent memory is of her former lover putting a bullet between her eyes after killing everyone else at her wedding, including the 'colored organ-player,' you can expect her to retaliate.  And when super trained bare-footed assassin Uma Thurman puts on her tone cold and utters with a comical face tone "it is mercy, compassion and forgiveness that I lack," you know her, and Quentin Tarantino, mean business.

And the rest of the names on her compiled Death List mean business too, last of which is Bill, the leader of the Deadly Vipers.  Among the vipers is Cottonmouth, Oren Ishii, an elegant, japanese looking angel who will decapitate as you begin to tilt your head back to laugh at your own bad joke.  Who better for the role than Lucy-Liu?  She heads the Yacuzzas, the Japanese Mafia that run all of Japan.  Every scene in the story is another punch in the face to help justify a woman killing over 100 bad ass people and the audience not finding a drop of sympathy for any of the characters.  It is much more the second volume that draws on dialogue and emotion.  This pacing is superbly achieved by great writing and direction.

He gives you your money's worth for this ride. The visual is synchronized with the emotive, sometimes genre out of place but still never hitting a wrong note, soundtrack making this a real sensory experience.  The time spent in the editing room of this movie goes to show how intentional each scene was filmed.  Every character's emotion, inflection or severed limb is highlighted by the tones of the music or hues of light (or blood) splashed across the screen.

I appreciate a well thought out and executed piece of art.  With most masterpieces, and here lies no exception, an ego is usually to be found at the hands of the artist, though it is to an extent deserved.  A film like Kill Bill will inevitably claim its place in history.  Even though a 'masterpiece' may have been brought into existence from the corners of his mind, his work is not complete.  Paul Thomas Anderson thought Magnolia was his magnum opus, but if he stopped there, we wouldn't have his far superior There Will Be Blood.  Everyone, as artists and creators in this world, are in perpetual pursuits of building out of what is given and repairing what is there.  We might find our glasses overflowing with influence and means of construction rather than yearning for thirst on a dry summer afternoon in the Mojave.  No matter how the good the times are, we must never lose sight of when times were harder.  I've personally found myself riding some long, beautiful waves and getting lost in this perfect ease, but then the ocean knocks me on my ass and humbles me yet again.

So this brings me to adding a single word to the title of this blog.  Not for renaming, but for the sake of this post.

All (New) Pursuits Worthwhile

Over the course of the past 3 years, I've spent most of my time outdoors.  I've learned survival and camping skills, cooking, baking, gardening and construction, communication and teaching children, those my age and older, and how to live independently and sustainably.  ­­It is near the time that I would be­ graduating, assuming I stayed and gathered enough credits for the whole four years of college.  I hear from some high school friends about their apprehension to face the 'real world' after being in a comfortable box for the last 21 years.  The proverb "life is what you make it" manifests in brand new ways once you leave the walls of the institution.  My advice, having been on the road for a little now, is get off your ass and try something new.  Put yourself out of your comfort zone, open the windows and let the breeze in, and do something that may inadvertantly change your life.

Do I have any regrets about voluntarily dropping out of college?  Nope.  And I wouldn't even say it was too soon or too late, the timing played out perfectly.  It brought me to where I am today, and if I've met you in the past I am grateful, and if I meet you soon in the future I will hopefully be ready.

In this powerful present, where reflection converges with vision, a poem seems appropriate.

what is the world to someone without eyes but a song?

afternoon birds chirpin' and fillin' our air so lightly
swiftly shaping sounds in circles so sprightly
to echo like a wave would in echolocation
to seek a hidden solace in the earth's vibration
melting paradise with the ylang ylang scent in a metaphorical pot
swingin' in a hammock between two trees of life growing over rock
to be without a complex or agenda, you'll find your intention pure
cooperate with the sun and the trees, they'll shade your every fear
walk with the wind on your bare back, guidance will be given if you listen
travel to the furthest four corners, the center will reveal itself
the spring clouds allow long glances from a friendly sun
the green palm fronds rustle in the wind like inverted hula skirts
when words trail off and silence hums, you become a perfect grain of sand
drawing breaths with the water, goin' for a ride with the tide
tis the season not to be alone, tis the season for candlelight
tis the season for full moons, on full beaches, on exceptionally starry nights


And I leave you with this:

Something to chew on,
like a goat digesting food
for four white stomachs

The Moths Beat Themselves to Death Against the Light

Either when you've traveled far and wide or widened your gaze near the land you call home, you can begin to appreciate and realize the value of a portable sanctuary.  Where you go, there you are, and will always be.
In the quest to finding all pursuits worthwhile, one needs to find out what is important to them.  Is it giving back to humanity, adopting a puppy, planting a tree, starting a family, donating to a cause, finding happiness within, attaining your dream job, seeking enlightenment, or finding a life long mate that offers you fulfillment.  I've discovered that I need to be happy both internally and externally.  I know I can't overcome every circumstance and I have to learn to embrace or sit with feelings of vulnerability, pain and hopelessness.  I've learned that it is better to have mistakes and learn from them than go through life effortlessly without conflict.  Conflict helps defines the character and to know this world and your place in it, you need to know yourself - both your limits and your potential.

I have found both physcal and intangible sanctuaries in holy gardens, temples, sacred ancient cities, the stillness of the desert, the ebb and flow of the tide, a passage of time, a microscopic seed, a kind word from a friend, a laughter from the belly, the fur under my dog's sun-kissed ear, and lying on the fallen leaves in my backyard.  We all inadvertantly seek these places or concepts every day.  It unconsciously eases our breathing, relaxes our soul, and slows our heart.  It allows us to wake from last night's dream and fall back into a new one each night.

I have located another sanctuary right now, writing this on a red sand beach near the birthplace of the great Queen Ka'ahamanu, Kamehameha's favorite wife.   Though these thoughts are flowing like Johnny Appleseed down a damless river, I am trying to prove that you can transcend location and find this sanctuary everywhere.  Recognition and awareness are all that is necessary.  It becomes a practice, like a meditation, which is also deeply embedded in routine and tradition.  Living and reinacting thousands of years of history: taking a solitary walk outside, playing an instrument, starting a fire.  Going to church every sunday, temple every sabbath, praying to the east 5 times a day, feeling part of a whole.  The community and congregation all are holding onto these ideas of something bigger, looking for an intimacy with the unknown.  You're certain to find this portable sanctuary if you want it and keep at it.

I am starting to notice these miracles that exist and they help me reenter my sanctuary everyday.  A plant's daily growth, a sun falling into an ocean only to be followed by a cool starry breeze, a smile from a stranger's happy soul.  I am seeking it in the unfortunate circumstances, though it is more difficult.  I'll admit to completely losing site of it on grumpy mornings.

We should strive not for the top, but the center.  The top position is already filled.  It is the air we breathe and the fruits we eat, it is the light and it is everything and we are borrowing time from it to find harmony with it and not try to control it.  The mastery is attained in the balance, in gravitating towards the center of two opposites.

"Sometimes the cause of civilzation is best served by a hard stare into the soul of its opposite." - Michael Pollan 'The Botany of Desire'

We seek this balance internally and in the environment we choose to be apart of. We seek it in a community where everyone plays their role to create a sustainable life.  We study the past and see civilizations meet their end not when they no longer are prosperous, but when they  lose sight of their roots, which were founded on sustainability.

I helped my friend with his taxes the other day and quickly discovered I could have been an accountant.  I'm fast with numbers, patterns, and organization.  However, working outdoors with bare hands and feet in the soil has gradually put my mind more towards ease.  I find this work more demanding, stimulating, and endless in terms of potential.  Here I'm working with land in different climates with different elements and problems and advantages.  I will never be bored or tired of a routine because each day is different.  In an office setting, the mold is a little too firm for me.  You can shape the clay slightly, but it's been set for so long that not only is it extremely difficult, it isn't encouraged.

And in my portable sanctuary, which can be aptly named both my body and soul, I've come to discover there is no end.  And with these thoughts implies there is always time for reconciliation and improvement and most importantly potential.  Every possibility is filled with potential.  Even to deny an impossibility is to succumb to a chained spirit.

Besides this daily practice, I've begun to regularly attend 'Maui Church.'

"A beach tells many lies but somewhere the truth is always written." - E. Hemingway 'Islands in the Stream'

It began in the sixties, like many other worthwhle revolutions.  Every Sunday at Little Beach, sitting north of Wailea, home of Maui's most expensive hotels, the locals have gathered for nearly 50 years to form something special.  To a tourist, or even a quick glance, it looks like a crowded beach with a lot of naked people.  The sand is powdery and soft, there are no tiny pebbles in the clear blue waters.  The snorkeling is excellent.  You can spot old sea turtles from the lava rock shore and swim with multi-colored tropical looking fsh, including state fish humuhumunukunukupua'a.  The weather is sunny, nearly cloudless, year long.  The view to the east is Haleakala, green sloping hills, and a Kiave forest, and to the west, an ocean framing a view of Kaho'olawe, also known as the Target Island, once used as target practice for dropping bombs during the war.  If the vog is low and the visibility is good, you can see the red planes and jagged hills on the mountain jutting out of the sea.

If the physical landscape isn't stimulating enough, the vibe is bound to turn an atheist into a believer.  The drum circle starts around noon and continues into the night.  There are plenty of regulars, but anyone can bring whatever energy they want onto the beach.  Last week, I saw a brass section for the first time.  A trombone and saxophone player, who both wore accessories that would compete against Flava Flav and MC Hammer's, played with the drums for a while and sang songs where phrases such as 'Space is the place' were repeated with progressive enthusiasm.  At night, expensive digital light projection toys were brought out and fire dancers began to play lustful cat and mouse games under the stars and in between the growing circle of the remaining beach's population.  The scene builds, not towards a climax or a finale or a breaking point, and it builds some more.

Here at Maui church, the congregation comes in all shapes and sizes, clothes, piercings, tattoos, hairstyles, and lack of clothes.  People cheer on the sunset like at a football game, yelling cat calls when a whale breaches.  Tooting their horns like cartoon characters worshipping Jessica Rabbit when a whale releases water from its blowhole.  Every beach activity from drinking a beer to playing frisbee to building sandcastles in the wind to bodysurfing to dog walking to dancing to dreaming.  The beach embodies a freedom of expression, and with an ocean as vast as the Pacific at your fingertips, it's hard not to feel the power and beauty this world offers.

And when this happening begins to fit into your life once a week, the way it has for so many people, you start to realize that if this world is one giant borrowed portable sanctuary, everywhere you go is home.

Some suggested reading that indirectly influenced this post:

Jose Saramago   In Search of the Unknown Island
Haruki Murakami  Kafka on the Shore
Jorge Luis Borges Circular Ruins
Jack Kerouac  Dharma Bums

Some songs that influenced this post:

Modest Mouse   World at Large
Elbow   One Day Like This
John Coltrane  Serenity
Bliss N Eso  Eye of the Storm



The moths beat themselves to death against the light,
Adding their breeze to the summer night.
Outside, water like air was great.
I didn't know what I had that day.
Walk a little farther to another plan.
You said that you did, but you didn't understand.

I know that starting over is not what life's all about.
But my thoughts were so loud, I couldn't hear my mouth