Brothers And Sisters

So on Sunday nights between 10 and 11 I watch "Brothers and Sisters". It's really quite good and I certainly enjoy it. But I'm wondering about some things. Kevin, the gay lawyer, in his attempts to make partner went to dinner with his boss and a potential client. Prior to this, the boss asked Kevin to leave his partner, the adorable Scotty, at home. Which Kevin did. At dinner Kevin then proceeded to talk about his wife, to whom he'd been married to since "last May". The day after Kevin decided to draw a line in the sand so he wouldn't have to go back into the closet. And yet, when faced with the prospect of making partner he folded under pressure.

Where is the line? Where does integrity end? I wish that I could live a life of ideals, a life full of integrity. But as my grandmother tells me over and over, "Ideals are nice, but they won't get you elected." And it's true. Let's take a look at politics for a bit. Obama and Hilary were pretty far left on the spectrum, but once Obama made it onto the national scene where he needed to win over more people than before he drifted towards the center. Had he kept his views during the primaries, he would definitely not be doing as well as he is doing right now.

Even so, a price was paid. Integrity was lost. Pragmatism gained. Ideal? Psh. Thrown out the window. Kevin too threw his ideals out the window, but he sacrificed his identity as well. The ends supposedly justify the means. Thank you Machiavelli! But do they? Going back to the Obama bit, he would not get elected if he didn't make a few compromises along the way. Ideals are nice, but they simply will not get you elected. Not in this day and age. Anyways, won't you be able to do more once you are in office? 

True, you can't do much if you get elected. And you cannot get to the White House without giving a few comforts up. But once you are there, promises have been made, speeches have been given, statements are on the record. You reach the goal, but you're tied down now. Sure, Kevin might make partner, but then what? Does he have to continue living a lie? As an out gay man, I am incensed by this. How can you give up what you've spent your life fighting for? Personally I cannot imagine that happening to anybody. I tend to be able to imagine anything, but I cannot imagine that at all. 

And pragmatism leads me to ask the question, "What can be done?" And the answer is simple. Nothing. Unless there is a global, or nationwide upheaval, nothing will change. One person can make a stand, but they will be blindsided and ignored by the masses. But wouldn't that be the best way to be ignored? Making a stand for idealism and sticking to your guns even though nothing comes of it? Maybe, just maybe that will be enough. After all, dominoes don't just fall. You have to push one of them.

A Free Style College Essay.

Dear Reader,

  This is not for you. Neither is House of Leaves but that's for another day. What you are about to witness is a great leap in myself. I, since I have to start thinking about these things, am going to Free Style a college essay that I will probably shorten and edit and clean up. Perhaps I'll even use it! Anyways, here goes nothing.

As essays go, a common question is, "Write about one experience that you feel changed your life." Though it may be worded differently, all forms of this question carry that basic meaning. And as the admissions officers plow through the seemingly endless piles of these essays, they will no doubt discover many interesting and embarrassing anecdotes that "changed" the prospective students life. What they may or may not realize is that what they have just read is a lie. Little Sally Jones may very well have traveled to Nicaragua and built houses, that isn't the falsehood. The falsehood lies in the very nature of the question. Lives do not travel in straight lines until they reach a certain experience. That's the falsehood. What many do not realize is that life is a process and a journey. My life, your life, everybody's life is in a constant state of flux. Everything that is done, everything that is observed, said, felt, touched, seen, tasted, heard-everything changes your life. These little events may change things in a small way, but it's impossible to calculate the impact that it will have on the rest of this person's life.

I believe that our lives are in a constant state of evolution. I believe that at this moment, here at my computer, I am being pulled along by the subtle currents of life. Things make impressions, just as we do. Something as simple as looking out of a window on a plane may inspire a lifelong desire to fly. Or it may last for a week. Or it may terrify the child so much that they begin to have those nightmares where you fall and fall and you close your eyes and you are still falling until you fall into you sunlight bathed bed in the morning.

What happens in these so called, "life changing moments" is simple. It's not that our lives suddenly shift. It's not that the world suddenly inverts and begins spewing sludge. It is simple that we realize. Suddenly we stop, take a look around, and breathe it all in. And we realize how far we've come from the starting gate. How far we have yet to go. And we realize that we are no longer the same person. Our life doesn't change, our life is change. We are just realizing that it happens. So I suppose the question that I'm answering is, "What is life and what causes change?" And the answer is simple. Life is change. We are the change.

I have no idea where this went.

Sorry,

Daisuke

An Excerpt

Dear Reader,

Hello. It's been some time. I've been wrapped up in myself for too long. I've been writing this really random piece that seems to be an examination of myself via narrators and characters named after my future children. Here is an excerpt.

The man on the train stood up, his shapeless pants falling around him. Uncaring, unaffected, or perhaps unencumbered by his appearance, he reached up to grab his umbrella and briefcase. The umbrella, made of wood, cloth, and a silvery metal clearly stated, "I, the umbrella, do impose my will upon the rain and not it upon I." Oh yes, it was a piece of work with a bunch of problems stemming from its childhood as a tree. It fit the man, and the man and the man the umbrella. The briefcase that belonged to the man not the umbrella (Although it could certainly be construed differently.) was different. Made of mahogany leather and gold colored metal, it imposed its will as well, though on paper, pens, and a calculator with dying batteries. The man was a serious businessman, all facts and figures and pie charts. In contrast to his other accessories, his suit suffered from a terrible inferiority complex. Bought for $100 at a wholesale warehouse, it disliked its second-class status, unlike the umbrella and briefcase, both of which were gifts from his soon to be ex-wife. The man, totally unaware of the various qualms going on around him, held them and wore them like weights. Which makes sense since they are made of mass and since they served as anchors to a job he disliked. This man was utterly unremarkable save for one thing. As corny as it sounds, he was remarkable in how remarkable average he was. Of almost exact average height, weight, hair loss, he was nearly invisible. Despite this feature, he was in fact, a bit odd. However, he got off the train like a normal man upon which he noticed that nobody noticed him. At all. 

As he got off, perhaps as a testament to his remarkably average invisibility, a boy in a purple hoodie ran into him. His briefcase, still imposing its will upon the paper, pens, and calculator with dying batteries within, was knocked form his hands. It went up, remembered the laws of physics, and promptly fell onto the tracks. It broke open upon landing hitting a nearby rat with a presentation on commodity trading. By now, that boy (Who we will focus on shortly.) had sat down while the man stood at the edge debating if he should jump down and get it. He could tell from the frantic manner in which people were running to the train that it was getting ready to leave. And if it left, it would run over the briefcase. His plight spread through his body, making him visibly upset, although nobody noticed except you. And that's only because your narrator pointed it out. And in the noise of the train leaving, and in the noise of the briefcase breaking, the man screamed. It had been a long day. The suit smirked in a way that only suits can. After all, it had never liked the briefcase.

Well? Any thoughts? Please, don't hold anything back.

Sincerely,

Me, your humble narrator

The Jerusalem Declaration

Dear Reader,

          Allow me to direct you attention here. Click on it and read it. And now look at this. Long ago, the Church split, creating Roman Catholicism and Greek Orthodox. All that was over whether or not icons of Mary and Christ were false idols. And now we reach a turning point. The Catholic Church has made it's position on homosexuality very clear and it stands by it now. However, the Episcopal churches of the world have not. And that is the foundation of why GAFCON is not showing up at Lambeth and why they created The Jerusalem Declaration. But I tell you now, I do not accept this. I reject this fully. 

So, homosexuality is wrong. Let's go with that assumption for a bit. It's wrong and all who practice it will go to hell and burn forever and be flogged and (Insert torture here) etc. Oh yes. It's a sin. Now, let's go back to the GAFCON statement. They uphold that "The doctrine of the church is grounded in the holy scriptures..." Yes, well let's get our Bibles out, shall we? Oh look, God is smiting Sodom and Gomorrah and Lot's wife has become a pillar of stone. Hmm... I don't think I know that God. That God used to smite and destroy what did not fit. He was like a young child trying to put a square peg in a circular hole, getting frustrated and finally blowing the damn thing up. Where is your God now?

So we're still assuming that homosexuality is a terrible abomination. God had no problem blasting the shit out of what he didn't like, if it's so terrible why haven't I been struck by lightning yet? Where is your God now?

Let me tell you where God is now. God is dealing with everything else in existence, because all that stuff is important. Oh, and because homosexuality is not an abomination. I like having cocks up my ass. I like kissing guys. Whatever. You know, if you have sex you will get pregnant and then you will die. 

And you know what? I could care less. I could care less if this is a mental condition or a disease. I could care less if I burn for all eternity. I'm a flaming faggot and I accept that and all the possible consequences. 

They have made their declaration, so now I will make one of my own, a Manifesto of Fire, The Pound Ridge Declaration, if you will.

1. I rejoice in my existence, in my life within or without the church and the gospel. I love and will be loved by those who surround me and those who I know.

2. I believe in myself, in my heart, and in my head and that they shall be the world that has been created and that I exist in. 

3. I uphold my integrity and my belief above all others that would have me reviled.

4. I reject all those who would see me vilified and all those who would spoil and contort the true messages of their faith.

5. I gladly proclaim and rejoice in my existence, regardless of hellfire or salvation, sin or judgement. 

6. I will never sacrifice my identity for want of my life, nor will I deny myself for want of salvation, nor compromise my soul or ideals for any and all people who would see me on my knees, begging for repentance.

7. I acknowledge the creation or evolution of both men and women, and the union of men and women with either sex and that love is the unchangeable standard for which a union is to be based upon. I reject any and all requests for forgiveness for straying from the path of heterosexuality, for it is no crime and no sin to be a homosexual.

8. I will uphold and revere justice as it is meant to be dealt, care for the forsaken, and bring hope to the lost.

9. I am committed to the unity and fellowship of all peoples, regardless of any affiliations, race, gender, or sexuality and do encourage others to follow my example as well as celebrating our differences. I pledge to work with the aforementioned to make a more perfect world for our existence.

10. I reject the authority and do not recognize the rank of those who subjugate or deprecate all people of this earth. I ask them to join us in our quest for unity.

11. I will live my life to the fullest as each moment of each day is the culmination of history to that point.

12. I will preach no false gospel, nor will I adhere to any thought that I deem false, but instead shall follow my soul to where it leads me.

13. I will love whoever I choose, and I will do so regardless of whatever consequence may come as a result, be it the fiery abyss of hell or the pearly gates of heaven. I will be a martyr for love if the time comes when I must choose between my life and my love. As such, I reject and deny and negate all who would limit or exclude or deny any and all people from love.

With joy and with love and filled with light,

Daisuke

The Wizard of Oz

Dear Reader,

          The Tin Man has a heart. I've decided that. I mean, he goes through the entire movie caring and worrying about Dorothy, even though she's a ditz. But for whatever odd reason, he thinks that he has no heart and all he wants is a heart. But how could you want things without a heart? How could you care about anything without a heart?And when he finally does get his "heart", it's a clock with red sparkles on it. Is that a heart? No. It's clockwork. It is no heart. He's had a heart all along, but it's not like in Kingdom Hearts where you smack a baddy with a key and out comes a glowing red thing. A heart is something else. But supposedly I don't have one. Supposedly I am devoid of either the clockwork or the glowing red thing. All I have is a muscular blood pumping organ, although some will tell you that it is doubtful if I have even that. 

So what do you want? What the hell do you want from me? Do you want me to walk around proclaiming how I feel at all times? Do you want me to fall on my knees in front of you and sob? I don't understand, and I usually understand everything. To you, does having a heart mean crying because you don't get what you want? To you, does having a heart mean that I simply lather affection on all of you? My heart is no loofah and I don't think Oil of Olay would go too nicely with it. It might sting. Scratch that. It would sting.

My heart is no carnival, it is not a freak show for you to gawk at. It does not prance around, looking for attention. My heart is no show dog. My heart is not yours to hang on a wall. It is mine. And it does not belong on my sleeve. My heart lies in my breast and it pulses slowly. I feel everything that you feel, probably even more. When you've lived as long as I have, there isn't a way to not have a heavy heart. And oh, mine is weighty indeed. It is heavy and you have no idea what lurks within. You say I have no heart, you say I have no soul. I am the Tin Man. I am hollow inside. But you are wrong. And I don't feel a need to prove anything to you.

Suck on that bitch,

Daisuke

Therapy

Dear Reader,

          Hold onto something now, I'm about to divulge and go personal. Something so intensely personal, so cathartic, that your head just might break. Or turn into a jigsaw puzzle. Just a warning. But, all that aside, on to the show!

Between the hours of 12 and 1 AM on what is channel 11 for me, therapy comes up on the screen. It's a cleansing ritual that I use to clear my head and relax and just take a breather. Yes, back to back, occupying the 12-12:30 and the 12:30-1 time slots is Sex and the City and Will and Grace. I sit on m couch with water and I watch the two shows one after another without any bathroom breaks. And it works. I forget all my troubles, and though it is very lonely, it's therapeutic. I'm not alone with my mind, I'm alone with sitcoms. 

(The End)

Daisuke

The Broken Hearts Club

Dear Reader,

          If you don't know, this entry is named after the rather excellent movie that bears the exact same name. If find that certain books and movies just trigger something or push a button that makes me sit down and write. Perhaps they are that good, or perhaps they just reflect something so deep that I can't hold it in anymore. Like right now, I'm listening to Feist's I Feel It All, and it's about to change to My Moon My Man and I have no idea where this is going. I don't know what to write about or what I will write about. Unlike the other entries, I have no guiding light. I'm just opening up the container of orange juice and pouring out the contents. 

It's really a brilliant movie. Really, but I'm just stalling at this point. Worlds shift all the time, but I've never noticed more shifts in my life than in the past six months. Perhaps I'm becoming more aware or perhaps everything is just changing at a more rapid pace. I want to say something, but I don't know what it is that I want to say. Maybe I'm too afraid to dive that deep, or maybe I have no depths to dive into. I wonder, is that it? Or is it the fear that I have no depths to dive into that is paralyzing me. I'm sure there is something, and that would explain the stream of consciousness that I'm doing right now. I'll probably wake up one night, splattered with moonlight (Interesting word choice there...) and I'll realize what it is I'm trying to get across. And then I'll just grab a piece of paper, no doubt my AP summer assignment and I'll scribble something down on it. Of course, once I faint from exhaustion and wake up in the morning, I'll realize that whatever I wrote is completely illegible. Maybe the quest and the grail can't coexist in the same universe. There is no grail without the quest and without the grail there is no quest. So if I do find the answer, it would have to vanish, otherwise what is there to live for?

Or maybe I'll find the answer and then find another question. If you can't tell already, I still have no idea where this is going, but something is starting to formulate, so bear with me. Of course, if you bear with me, you'll have to deal with more paragraphs of this nonsense. Which, on a tangent, is an incredible word. The meaning is in the form. It's so structuralist. Look at the word nonsense. Non. Sense. Nonsense makes NO SENSE, and the word itself makes that very clear. It's wonderful. I'm broken. I don't make sense. I recognize that and I feel like I'm going insane (Right now it feels like I have fiery wings growing out of my head. I'd say about 128 fiery wings.) and I'm caught by this mania, this insanity to write. I'm not even writing anything of substance, anything that relates to anything else I've written, I'm just writing. It's like somebody has taken over my hands. Right now I'm look at my hands and wondering whose they are. Really, the only thing that's holding all of this together is my punctuation and my strict adherence to the rules of grammar. Oh, and my nearly impeccable spelling. But ignore the fluffing of my ego, it won't fit through the door.

I know something and I know that I know something and I know that I know that I know something, but as I've already said, I don't know what that is. And apparently I don't even know what I'm talking about since I'm referring back to something I've already written. So clearly there is some thread holding all these shards together. I'm tired and cold. I'm bent and crooked. But I'll love my crooked neighbor, even if it's just myself with my crooked little heart. And thou shalt love thy crooked neighbor with thy crooked little heart. Neck in neck you'll walk and walk and walk on the shore. And as you walk you'll detach from the spiral and you'll watch your mind shift perceptions. It's the oddest sensation, becoming aware that you are watching something, that you are perceiving something in a completely different manner. It's like lying very very still on the ground and feeling the rotation of the earth. And it spins a lot. My head spins a lot. People spin a lot. This is becoming increasingly fragmented and I don't know why I am putting all of you through this, I don't know why I'm writing this. What can I do but cling to the hope that there is a reason for writing this, that there is a purpose this existence. I'm so sorry. I'm becoming needlessly dramatic. And I just didn't spell dramatic correctly although you'd never know it since I have spell check. Thank God for machines. Although it is rather pompous that God capitalizes his name. I mean, the Jewish God doesn't even use his name, he just uses initials and all those are capitalized. Rather pretentious although I fear that I'll be struck down with lightning for saying anything.

Wait for it.

Nothing. I haven't been smote. That was a close call, although considering the circumstances it probably wasn't. I guess I'm condemned to be free and to live and yes I stole that very observant of you want a cookie? And I'm sorry about that last sentence, I appear to be losing my grip on something though not the something that I'm trying to find. A different something, something that I would call reality, but I don't actually know. I tend not to know. But I'm not as happy as I think I should be if we/I assume that ignorance is bliss. I guess I just disproved that unless I'm grossly overestimating the state of bliss. Or maybe this is just a period of Self Discovery! That must be it! I'm just experiencing a rather late period of DISCOVERY! I FOUND THE NEW WORLD NOW LET'S GIVE ALL THE NATIVES AIDS! And then they will all die and we'll call it Thanksgiving. Amen to that and let's stuff our faces full of flesh. The turkeys will rise one day and kill us all if the robots don't get us first! Wahoo! I'm going crazy! My hands feel like they've detached from my body although I suppose I can't refer to them as "my" hands anymore. No. The hands that used to be mine have been detached from what was my body. I think I'm just some incorporeal spirit floating above all of this watching my mind whir and spin and gyrate on its axiom. I mean gyrate on its axis. Unless I didn't. I really don't know anymore and I should be finishing this soon, but I get the feeling that I won't be done for a while. I should see a shrink or get my head shrunk. Maybe it'd fit through the door then. I think I have moments of super clarity maybe. Moments in which I can see through things. Like super sanity. But these are very rare and I could be making all of this up. I mean, no I don't mean, I say, "Where does all this come from? Is there some spring of eternal thought that these just well up from?" I said it, but by using quotations it feels like I didn't actually say it. A character named Daisuke Kawachi did.

A new paragraph.

Another one.

And a n o t h e r one.

Space and silence say things, but the people get tired of it. They want solid things. So I'll defy them and give them void! 

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    (           )

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Connect the parentheses and it's like some fabulous building.

I'm done!

I'm not really but I have to go to my dead end job tomorrow and I need sleep.

Assuming I can sleep after this.

I wonder what I'll dream about.

It's a statement now, not a question.

Love perhaps, Caution yes, jazzy riffs on a keyboard no,

Daisuke=Kawachi