Flirting with sloth.

Ever so slowly but surely, people are becoming more accustomed to doing absolutely nothing. Why would they need to? All things can be found on the internet and through phones, television-- all delivered to the comfort of your own home. You're reading this online now, and the most productive portions of my body are my fingers and my mind as I type this.

Not that writing is without merit, by any means. It's a wonderful way to present most things, be them opinions or desires. Do people want to read much anymore, though? Not really. Not when you can get it on a podcast or a show. Visuals, aural -- all things that don't require much effort. If it has bright moving pictures, it will capture the attention of many.

Devolving into a sloth is a very casual thing. Remove the simple pleasures in life-- going outside on a beautiful day just to be there, taking a hike, a bike ride, a walk on the beach.

All of this can be lived out in fantasy, so it's not as needed. Now it's just too hot to go outside. I'm tired. My show is on. But we can order in! Maybe tomorrow...

Can't find the show you want on right now? Order it on the computer. The DVD will arrive shortly.

I just can't wait for that. Oh, it's online! Good.

All of this done in a matter of ten minutes, ten minutes that could have led you down the road to a park. You know the places with trees and grass? Yeah, those still exist.

Of course, some people say they don't want to take the risk.

If you go hiking, what happens if you fall and hit your head?

If you go for a drive, what happens if you crash?

What about parks? People get robbed there.

I could trip on my own foot.

The sun could burn me and I could die.

Presumptuous people may think I cannot see the merit in a good, restful day. That's hardly the case. Should every day include rest? Of course. I tend to do that after I pull the covers up, but I am hard to keep still.

Even if you're not a hyperactive adult child like me, there should still be some limits to keep "rest" from becoming sedation. After a time, watching that show becomes more important than other things. You can't go out that night, I need to see what happens next.

What about your own life? What would have happened next for your reality?

A calm collective of humanity is much easier to contain and control than one that is ready to get up in arms about issues. Armchair politicians run rampant, and you can simply log on to a website to sign a petition. People assume they have no power anyway, and if anyone else does, they'll handle it. There is a better chance of seeing someone take an online poll to express an opinion than them going out and voting on a proposition.

American freedom of choice has locked people into a sense of security in their money and on their couches. You're safe at home. Let the television lull you.

Being complacent is going to be the end of our species one day. The general populace delves into nothingness while the aggressive ones take over, and we complain about the wars. People are demanding, but mostly of more additions to their lives they don't even need.

Children are mostly at risk. It's easier to park them in front of a television than to take them out and give them exercise. They need better toys. Faster internet.

People have children and assume they are stuck inside forever.

They make strollers for that.

Read to them. Show them the outside world as stimulus instead of colorful characters on the television that shapes their mind.

You can look as far as a person's car to see how much comfort they need. You can load up on satellite radio, DVD players, vibrating chairs, seat warmers... all so that even in the five minute ride to the grocery store for more delicious fatty foods, you can be assured that entertainment and stimuli are at your fingertips. Luxury has been taken to extremes, and you will hear people complain to no end if their cable goes out for five minutes. I can remember when having AC in the car was considered a huge luxury. Now, if it goes out, you can't go out.

That sun is still lurking up there, ready to ruin your fun.

From medications to calm us to music to sooth us, places to relax us and entertainment to hold us, we're losing touch with the foundations of our own existence. Survival is no longer down to food, shelter, and health. It's being unable to function without your cell phone for a day, making sure you get home in time to harvest your crops, what would we do without this cable internet?

Remember dial-up? No...?

As I sit here in this coffee shop, I am watching people and listening to their complaints. Everyone complains about things many people in other countries would consider trivial. They ran out of blueberry muffins? Oh my god, what ever did you do?

There is a teenage girl about ten feet from me at the counter, whining about how her mother makes her ride the bus so she can understand the importance of money and saving to get a car.

I wish I could meet her mother.

We can pass by the homeless man on the corner asking for a bite, because we have to get to that darling Mexican place with meals for only $15 because Jill told Mary it was très chic.

Perhaps one day, as I'm walking just to walk, I'll run into someone else just walking to walk.

It hasn't happened in a long time. People resort to walking if they must be somewhere. There's an ulterior motive to much of the physical activity people engage in, and it isn't always just for the sake of it or to stay healthy. Let's go to the gym to pick up chicks. Maybe if we walk down the beach, someone will notice we exist.

I have made quite a few people upset with my go, go, go needs. I don't have to be running circles constantly in order to be content, but at least doing something. Going for a drive to discover what's around. Maybe there's a place over there we've never seen. Taking a walk to feel gravel crunch or the see what is on the other side of that hill. Go to a swingset and remind yourself why you loved it as a kid. Talk to people. Learn about them. Learn something new. My memory likes to soak things in-- so while I can quote banal, amusing moments from a movie, I can also tell you the tale of a man I met on the train tracks in Fort Lauderdale one night. When you're used up and you've reached the end of the line, do you want to remember back to all the times you diligently watched the newest fad shows every week, or about the adventures you got into?

Want to spend time making memories with someone you love? It doesn't have to be on the couch.

Rest is good for everyone. It's healthy, it's wonderful. Life, though, isn't one big break. EARN the rest. EARN the time spent collapsed on the bed, thrilled at all the amazing things you managed to pull off that day.

You want to be a rebel?

Go climb a tree.

Take a swim.

Take a hike, you lazy bum.

Black Tar Syndrome

Sometimes she can be your only friend. A cold, heartless friend; a warm and loving one.

A violent, twisted one. But she's yours, and you adore her with a flame like no other. She beckons to you, begging for mutual adoration. Without you, she'd have no lore. No tales of her victories. She may act the whore-- everyone uses her-- but you can own her, part of her, for those glorious twilight hours when the world shuts down and all that can be left behind are your musings and desires. If she complains, it can be the death of you... or of others. When she does choose to kill, it is so often an extreme show of force: brutal, twisted and torn. Fabrics of existence ripped into nothingness, reduced to mere primordial leavings. But she's yours. You love her.

There seemed to be more appreciation for such feelings for the road in the days of Burgess, Burroughs and Thompson. It was understood that in order to be successful in writing, there were some things you had to understand about life. Listening to the streets happens to be a recurring ideal. Much of the best written word has come about from a strange and beautiful combination of sleep deprivation, drugs, and driving. The world opens up to you in ways that it normally wouldn't, as you are witness to the silent failures and achievements of society when on a late night crusade. Nothing else seems to come quite as close to understanding human nature, be it your own or whomever else is skulking about in the night.

Some people treat their commutes as harsh realities, things to be avoided. Nobody is really a fan of traffic jams and the resultant tardiness. It is pervasive and often enough is the cause of rage-fueled deaths. But when you choose to (and sometimes not, for happy accidents do occur) own the road for yourself, that's when things make sense. To some, sadly, even a late drive is nothing-- just another day, just another inconvenience. It takes a certain kind of personality, a distinctive mindset to truly love to drive or to be passenger. The kind that can find beauty when most see none, an intelligent set that knows what is important. Giving yourself that time to explore the inner workings of your own mind is necessary, especially for those types. I, for one, can spend days staring out of a window. No talking is needed. While music is an important part of the experience, it is not always absolute. It all comes down to the prosaic nature of the simple tar below you.

Death there is different from most. No matter what the cause, a car in twisted metal and flame always raises emotions in the passing drivers. The innocent run down on the road, left for refuse. Human viscera thrown from the steel carriage meant to transport, pulverized. It happens every day, yet we continue to trust our man-made mistress. We cannot help it. She brings out the best, and worst, of us-- especially when some roads lead to death of other sorts, be it by the hand of man or their machines. The joy of driving can be lost in the banshee cry of a drug addict or an armed gunman. Sometimes though, under such circumstances, that's when driving is at the peak of freedom. The act of leaving such a place with intent to never return is one of the most liberating feelings one can hope to strive for. Prolific though those ghettos may be, escape is possible.

A reminder of my childhood comes into play, here. My mother would often get me into the car late at night, turn up the radio (Aerosmith was oft the choice) and drive to nowhere. I'd thrust my head out of the window just to breathe in and feel the life around me. The world made sense during those times, no matter what hardships we were in the process of escaping for a few hours. All it takes is a clear night and a heavy mind to bring forth the writer, the artist, the genius or the horror found in all of us.

We are all suffering and surviving the human condition. It doesn't have to be to our ruination, nor to our being afflicted with ennui. Taking steps to remember what we're really here for, moments allowed to reflect on our own existences and the beautiful, silent world around us. Dreams and hopes can come and go, but the road is always there for you.

If the world can come together into coherency even amongst the rubble and chaos, even our deepest and most profound troubles can be assuaged for a time.

So... roadtrip, anyone?

As the world explodes into delightful horror, we dance in the rubble and continue to shine.

The times, they are a changin'.

Little time left for writing, so it seems. A horrible way to live.

So it is no longer. Too many things have gone unsaid, too much time passed, far too many events left to the dust. History is meant to be recorded, no matter how benign it may seem.

Dedicating time to the expulsion of thoughts into text or script is often a necessity for my survival. The mind becomes burdened with far too many things to grasp at once, and clarity seems elusive.

Keeping pace with the mind is not a simple task. Writing is often key.

The writing project 750words has been helpful in keeping me on track. Give it a shot, maybe you'll find it helpful too.

So many things, and some new people to dissect story-wise. By the end of the month I will have four new stories to tell. Many things to be said. Perpetual inconvenience be damned. There are triumphs to be celebrated.

So what will become of this year? Hard to say, yet. It has been one of fantastic change and disturbing loss. We've all had some sort of altering event hit in a short amount of time. Can you handle it? Can any of us?

We're strong enough, I bet.

Let the roller coaster begin.