Relationships

Relationships make putting a gun to your head sound sweet sometimes. It's fucked up. Relationships are fucked up. Your fucked up. The way you can find that out is by getting in a relationship.

I want to be "James Bond" Duke. I want to be the Duke that's really cool, says and does all the right things and everyone loves. I want to be "Super Duke". "Super Duke" doesn't fuck up or get embarrassed or regret what he did or said. The last thing I want to be is "regular" Duke. "Regular" Duke isn't cool. "Regular" Duke has to do regular things, and just be, well you get the point, "regular".

You know what the fucked up thing is? When you meet that chick for the first time, you get to be "Super Duke." You get to look in that girls eyes and see a reflection of yourself that you never thought you could be. You're funnier, wittier, smarter, handsome, cool and a bunch of other stuff that makes you feel high. That's what it is, it's getting high.

You want to know a universal need? Getting fucking high. Everyone wants to get high and that's a fact. The only thing is some peoples means of getting high is socially unacceptable while others can get high and not be criticized.

Some people like to pick up a drink , some people like to pick up a drunk. The guy that likes to drink, maybe to take the edge off, he's the problem. That's what they say, "Look at that drunk, why does he do it?" But please, everyone just wants to take the edge off. Everyone wants to check out. Some people shop, some fuck, some try to control people, some gamble, some eat, some succeed and some lose. We do all these things to take the edge off, even if it's for fucking 2 seconds!

The bottom line is it's uncomfortable being human!

It's uncomfortable in these bodies. In these heads. We've got brains that don't shut the fuck up and appetites that won't back off, and feelings that keep trying to surface.

"Just give me some cake so I can deal with this disappointment."

"Let me judge that person so I don't have to think about me."

Let me hang out with a fuck up so I can lie to myself and say, "This guy has a problem. Don't look at me, look at that guy. When I get as bad as that identified problem then maybe I'll do something. But I don't have to do anything, because I'm not as bad as him. Now let me go just kind of spend my money irresponsibly."

So you meet this new romantic friend and you get high. It's fucking awesome because none of your problems exist right now. They go away. A new relationship has a way of erasing all of your flaws and your pain. It gets you high and it feels great! You're fixed, you're whole, you're feeling like you know a human being should be feeling!

The only problem is that stupid law of physics that talks about "what goes up has to come down." Someone gives you the one thing you've searched for your entire life. They give you yourself. They give you completion. They give you validation, and the feeling is so authentic that you fall for it hook, line and sinker. You fall deep.

Then the other shoe drops.

The person that gave you the greatest gift in the world begins to renege on the gift. Those fuckers take it away. They might as well rip out your soul. Why not just spit on your face?

That day comes when you look in their eyes and you no longer see "Super Duke". You're no longer the greatest thing that came into their life. Your just, you guessed it, "regular Duke".

You're not a super hero anymore, you've now become that guy that picks his nose and puts the boogers behind the couch. You're that lazy fuck that doesn't follow his dreams. You are now back to everything you feared you might be. All of your worst fears are reflected right back to you through the eyes of this lover. Your heart sinks, but then it begins to fill with anger, rage and resentment.

Relationships are fucking hard and anyone who tells you different isn't in one. They're borderline impossible, it's that fucked up. If you want to survive a relationship and live to tell about it you need to go deep down inside yourself. You need to visit dark places, places you don't want to go and you have to face demons. It's no longer about that other person it's about you. Do you have real balls? Do you have what it takes to face the hidden parts in you that never want to see the light of day?

Sometimes being in a relationship is about being alone. Alone with yourself, the worst parts of yourself. The parts you never wanted to even acknowledge their existence. Parts that you didn't know existed.

It's this relationship partner that holds up the mirror. They show you the ugliness that is you. Do you have the guts to deal with this person. This is real shit. You can't get this when you move from person to person. You also can't get to the other side if you just ignore it.

You can ignore all that scary stuff and hide in the basement for the next thirty years working on your wood carvings. These guys are dead men walking. You can adapt to a long term relationship by killing off the man you could be. You could be a shell of yourself. Or you can walk through some fucked up shit. Maybe you'll even find a "regular Duke" that's actually a pretty cool guy.

I just hope today I can walk through this mess of Duke.

Inspiration

I love the book The Art of War.

A little backstory on an experience I've had, or a state of mind that I've experienced. There was a point in my life when inspiration had struck me. I took it for granted. I thought it would last forever.

When I was younger the dream was to be in a rock band. I loved everything about the idea. The lifestyle, the attitude, the fun, it just embodied everything that I wanted.

My first real song I wrote on the guitar was a song about my Dad and lost youth. When my Dad divorced my Mom at the age of 5 I lost a little of myself. When I was 12 and my Dad died I lost a lot of myself. I think I was 17 when I wrote the song about the loss of my Dad and the loss of what was real within me. The real part within me that seemed to leave and was replaced with numbness and confusion. So that was my first song.

My second major song was to the girl of my dreams that dated me the summer after junior year in high school. She went out with me for three months and I went out with her for five years. She broke up with me right when school started I believe. I cried, I wrote a love song. The song was mostly about how she was great but when she left me she made a pretty bad mistake and she basically didn't know what she was doing.

I wrote a few other a few more songs over the next couple years. Then there came a point when my band was playing all the time. I hit bottom with alcohol. I quit drinking. I started writing. Feelings were coming out left and right and the guitar was there to filter them into song. The band was there to make the songs come alive.

This is the good part. Because I was playing so much music and writing so much, a strange phenomenon began to take place. I couldn't stop. Songs were coming to me from nowhere. I would write one and then another would be right there. I could write 3 - 4 songs a day. I remember knowing that I could write as many songs as I wanted, I just had to sit down and do it.

I had a band and they could only learn so many songs. We wanted to record a CD and we could only put so many songs on it. I remember thinking that I was writing too many songs. I was actually telling myself to not write so much. Just concentrate on what you have.

This space is the greatest place an artist can hope to be and I was there. I was there and didn't realize what I had. I took it for granted and after a few years I slowly lost it.

The songs were gone. The channel was turned off and only then did I realize how special of a thing I had. That was 15 years ago and I think back often to that time and wonder if I could ever get there again.

Today songwriting isn't my playing field. I've declared my sport to be comedy and I've been wishing that I can reach that place that I was once at when I was younger writing songs.

I love the book The war of Art. This book explains what happened to me when I was younger. The artist needs to create. There's no worse feeling than the one of an artist who doesn't create. The Art of War basically says that you can't wait for inspiration. The artist must sit down and make art. The writer must write. It doesn't matter if your art sucks or your writing is terrible it's the act of doing it that brings you to the new realm. The realm where angels whisper in your ear. The realm where the art is so good that it's not even coming from you. The place where the art is just a matter of dictation. The Gods are there ready to give you greatness but you must meet them on the playing field.

The playing field is where the magic happens. If you know what your passion is or what you are good at then focus on that. Everyday. Do the work and don't worry if it's crap or not. If this is truly your field then the brilliance will come but only if you have the balls to do it.

I'm going to write and I'm going to talk to the angels. I'm going to dance with them in the realm of stoniness. I'm going to trip balls with the deities, and will translate their words into human ones.

Either that or I'll write a bunch of crap.

The point is the inspiration comes when the work is being done in the field you excel at.

So fuck off and go write something!

A clear Head

Why are my writings like a self help book lately?

I've hit bottom recently. This seems to happen every year or two, the baggage of my life becomes so overwhelming that I have a mental break down, go through a great deal of pain and then do something about it. When I grew up I pretty much learned nothing, at least none of the important stuff. Didn't learn how to eat right, didn't learn how to clean myself properly or take care of my teeth right, didn't learn how to talk with people, how to dress, anything about money or the real world, how to take care of my body, and definitely didn't learn how to get in touch with what was going on inside myself. What I did learn was how to ignore anything that resembled a feeling, how to isolate, and had the ability to turn off my head and watch TV from the morning till I went to bed. Watching TV the entire day is not an exaggeration.

I'm 37 now and I can't hang on to the "Mommy and Daddy didn't teach me anything" excuse. I've learned through people I respect, books, and mentors how to live. I used to think to myself, "I want to eat healthy, but I don't even know how." Or I would think, "I want to get in shape but I have no clue where to start." I've learned these things. Now what's the excuse? It's weird when the excuse is taken away and it still doesn't make a difference.

For me I guess I need pain. The hard way is my way. The soft way doesn't work. (Insert "That's what she said" joke here). Sometimes creative people are the worst procrastinators. I procrastinate but I also do.

This is me: I want to get in shape. OK I'll work out to those P90X videos (90 days to a beach body). I've done it twice. Each time I was in the best shape of my life at the end of the 90 days. I just can't keep the momentum up. "I have a beach body, that's great! Now let's go eat Krispy Kream".

I have so many things I want to do with my life. So many thoughts swirling around in my head. Every time I remember something I want to do I get a little bad feeling in my stomach because I'm not doing it right now. Then something in the real world tugs me away from the thought like having to pick up the kids from school or pay attention to my wife.

Solution: write everything down. I can't keep all this stuff in my head. I spent hours the other day listening to George Carlin interviews. He said early on someone told him to write everything down and file it. What point is writing something down good for if you can't find it later? I write it down and organize it.

After everything in my head is written down then I can decide what's really important to me and focus on that. One of the things I got out of the book "The Art of War" was that someone who really gets "work" done likes order. Someone who really wants to accomplish stuff needs some level of organization. Avoid drama and create order. Once order is established on the ground level then your head can clear away space for a channel to open for you to do your work. What really needs to be accomplished.

I want to be a comic right now. I think I have something. But I'm also fearful that I don't, but in the back of my mind I know I do. I used to want to be a singer but I knew in the back of my mind that I didn't have the natural ability to pull it off no matter how much work I put into it. I did the work anyways, and didn't get the results. You see terrible comics doing this at open mics. Some of them do the work but it doesn't matter, they don't have the natural talent that it takes and will rise to mediocracy at best.

Now I know that I'm funny but my fear is "Where is the material going to come from? How do I write a joke? I have 6 minutes that I like but where will the rest come from?"

You see people trying out for American Idol and they want it so bad, but it's plain as day to me that they don't have what it takes. Something inside of them is telling them they have what it takes though, what the fuck is this thought? This is my greatest fear, so great that I don't want to mention it because it sounds like those guys on American Idol. Here goes; I have a belief that I have something great in me. I have a belief that I have what it takes to be not just good but great. What the fuck!! This thought is fucking with me. I really have tried to tell it to fuck off, but it's there. Is this thought or embedded belief a result of growing up in America where they say you can do whatever you want? I don't know. It scares me. I don't know how to write my material, this blog certainly isn't funny, but I know that I have moments of magic, on stage, where people really laugh. I don't think those laughs are a lie, but come on, I really only perform at my Tuesday open mic. I want to get out.

Don't know where I'm going other than to say that I have currently wrote stuff down and have created order at the ground level of my life and now I'm attempting take off. This is where I am. I do know from the past about course correction, keeping my eyes open to the signs, and the importance of adapting to change.

By the way Drugstore Cowboy is my favorite movie. It's all about the signs.

Universal human needs

Go ahead and hate me and discredit everything I say. I like self help crap. There I said it. I think they're valuable. A lot of people make fun of them and the faces to the books and seminars are pretty easy to make fun of. But I like it. I think there is value in trying to expand your horizons about yourself and to attempt to learn something about that special person that looks at you in the mirror each day.

Because the names associated with these self help books sometimes immediately turn people off, I want you to forget about them. I'll just steal their ideas and then you can associate my face with the knowledge, because I know that my image can only invoke awesome vibes and rad feelings.

Now let me get inside your head right now and break it down for you. If you want to enjoy anything in life to the maximum, fullest, and totally all the way-ness then you need to familiarize yourself with the 6 greatest human needs. Let me just spit them out for you.

1. Certainty
2. Variety
3. Community
4. individualism
5. Growth
6. contribution

Include all six into your daily activity and you will be stoked on life. You're gonna say, "Duke you are a pretty cool dude, thanks for being you. There's no way I would have heard this from anyone else."

Let's break it down.

1. Certainty

Everyone has a need, an inner need, to know that some things in life are certain. I have a home to go to. I have food to eat. I have clothes to wear. And then for the luxury problem people: I need a cell phone that's fully charged and receives email. I need my WTF podcast, which by the way is only coming out on Monday for the last two weeks!!! What the fuck!!!! I need to be certain that the podcast comes out every Monday and Thursday and when you fuckers change things a little bit of my life is thrown off. I need certainty.

2. Variety

Notice that each need is paradoxically opposite of the last. Variety, change, something different, these are the opposite of certainty. We have a need to be surprised. We need some change, some flavor for our fare. Spice it up. We can't be bored with nothing new ever, so variety is a need.

I already feel my self half assing this writing but fuck you for reading this blog.

3. Community

We all want to be a part of. We want to be in the cool group, or just any group. A place where we are accepted by our fellows. Some people have church, some people have AA, book groups, chess groups, gangs, sewing groups (Stitch and bitch), surfers, nerds, jocks, you know what I'm talking about. A place where everyone knows your name and their always glad you came.

4. Individualism

What's the opposite of the group? Individualism. You guessed it, once we're in the group we want to stand out from the group. "We're not like all these people, we're special." Everyone has a need to express something unique about them. This is my Deepak voice in my head which talks about dharma. We all have something completely unique to express, it's our job to cultivate it and express it.

On a side note I think our society has gone way too far into being a part of the group. It's like society says, "Get into your cubicle, keep your head down and ignore the feelings inside. Everyone else is doing it." Doesn't it seem like everyone is becoming the same? Our world is becoming smaller with the internet, everyone has jobs they hate, and we all love starbucks.

How much better would the world be if we were encouraged at a young age to look within ourselves to find out what we are good at. What we enjoy doing. What if we were encourage to do what we truly feel we should be doing and each person was inwardly fulfilled by utilizing his unique talent.

Ok I'm back from dreamland. Just worry about yourself Duke.

5. Growth

If we don't grow it's not good. How smart is that sentence? We need to push ourselves if we are going to truly quench that thirst in our bellies that says, "I want to learn." Or you can just make that feeling go away by overeating. Have you seen any fat people in this country? I don't want to grow that we. Having an open mind is important. If you've learned it all then you become right. When you become right other people become wrong, when other people are wrong then it's time to go to war.

I'm solving the world's problems in this blog. Keep an open mind, learn something new, push yourself and you will feel good. It's all about feeling high. That's what everyone wants. Some people smoke a joint, some people pick up a drink, other people pick up a drunk. That shit doesn't last.

The road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck, he says that maturity is delayed gratification. It takes work to exercise and the results aren't instant. Ice cream tastes great now.

I remember when my mentor taught me how to surf style skateboard down the hills of San Francisco with the unborn Buddha mind. Going down is fun but he taught me how to enjoy walking up. I think that is some growth we can all use, learning how to enjoy walking up.

6. Contribution

We can't just take, for the full stoney high to take place we have also got to give. It's the final need and most important. This is a tricky one because some people try to help and it ends up hurting. Maybe you can't help unless you are truly embodying the previous 5. The best help is by example. We need more examples of greatness not more midlevel power trippers telling us what to do. So reach deep inside your self and start helping people by becoming that best that were meant to be.

Now that I've solved the problems of humanity I'm going to work on my podcast, Duke's World.

Overandout

Pinball wizard

Whenever I am visiting an establishment with with a pinball machine I will tell whoever is with me, "I have to let you know, I'm a bit of a pinball wizard." They usually don't believe me until they witness their turn lasting 30 seconds and my at bat lasting 10 minutes. I love it. Whenever I list out every goal I have (Which isn't that often) owning my own pinball machine comes up. I even have a left wrist that hurst when I play and when the pain acts up and I'm in one of life's random circumstances I will tell people I have an old pinball injury.

I have a memory of my Dad kissing my mom when I was 4. "My Dad loves my mom." I thought. This feels right. Looking at my parents through the eyes of that boy and seeing them happy with each other reminds me that it made me feel good. I'm just consciously making the decision right now to be affectionate with my wife in front of the kids. It's nice for her, it's nice for the kids, and everyone is happy.

My next memory is them arguing. Not good, probably the opposite feeling of the kiss.

Next memory is the story I got about how dad has to leave for a while. I remember they gave me some story that seemed like he was going on a long vacation. I later learned that another word for vacation is divorce.

We lived in Southern California and now he lived in Sacramento. I got to visit during the summer, Easter, and Thanksgiving. I loved it. And you know what one of my favorite things about my Dad's house was? Besides the large jar of M&M's. The pinball machine.

The name of the game was paragon. To this day it's probably one of my favorite pinball games. When I was making money years ago I was looking on the internet for one and when I make money in the future I'll buy one.

I remember one time I came to my dad's house and there was a big hole in the wall next to the pinball machine. His friends would get mad every time they lost the ball. I do the same thing to this day when I play any video games. My dad eventually bought on of those blow up punching things that you can hit and they bounce to the ground and back up. There's no way that punching that thing could bring anywhere near the satisfaction of putting your fist in the wall.

Why do men like to put their fist through the wall. So much anger and no where to release it I guess. God knows I have stuffed up anger in me. I learned the game of paragon and became great at it.

My dad passed away and the game was shipped to my home in Southern California. I mastered it, I flipped it, and then I stopped playing it. We put it in the garage and when I was 19 my friends burned down my house with a cigarette. The game was gone with many other things.

To this day I have to play pinball whenever I'm in a pizza joint and I love it.

Chaos and order

I'm sitting at a table under an umbrella at our friends community pool. I have spent a good year avoiding doing certain things around the house and lately I've been on a get your life in order kick. Everytime I went into the cluttered chaos that is my kids room I swore I was going to spring clean the he'll out of it. Then everytime I would have an extr moment to do something I was physically exausted. I would only have energy enough to watch tv and take a nap.

There's never a right time to do a difficult thing. Today was the day. The wife left me with the kids but fuck it, it's their room so why shouldn't they be there when it gets cleaned. Went through the drawers the closets and all the toys. Filled up my car with donations and put a bunch of stuff in the attic. It took for ever but it was worth it. Sometimes when you're not feeling good you just need a little spring cleaning.

As I have some time now that I'm licking my wounds from the wreckage of the talk show I'm getting everything in order. Sometimes you need to do the little stuff to have a good perspective about the big stuff.

My wife is making fun of me now when I told he I'm writing my blog. Now that I'm getting my life in order she's becoming the identified problem. I hope I can stay on top.

Will the universe take care of you?

I pitched a story for this American Life. The title of my pitch was: Follow your passion; Is it really a good idea?

I went through the story of being sick of my day job and having a deep yearning to do something creative. I stumbled across the idea of starting a talk show and dedicated my self to it. The talk show can be viewed here http://www.dukefightmaster.com. I didn't end up replacing Conan O'brien (Which was the original goal) and I caused myself, my family, and the friends around me a lot of stress.

(Just a side note- My son Stone is blasting the movie Cars in the background right now and I can't think worth shit. I think it's part of my mind trying to get me to not write. I have the voices telling me to stop, but I'm going to keep going. Now my kid is yelling, but enough of this let's continue writing.)

I have a problem with emailing famous podcasts. I emailed Marc Maron about how we should be friends. I didn't hear back from him for what seemed like forever. I went through all the self hating doubt and "You suck Duke" type thinking. Just when I settled in on the thought that he probably thought I was a loser the producer emailed me and said Marc wanted to talk with me on the phone for the 100th episode. I stressed over how the phone call would go, then I did the phone call and then I stressed about how it went wrong. Then I went to Marc's show and sat next to him on stage without hardly talking to him. I just wasn't feeling a friendship brewing.

I emailed Dave Hill and asked if I could be a field reporter for his show. I never heard back from him and had convinced myself that I was the lamest person in the world. After the depression of my email to Mr. Hill had long since sunk into the core of my being I got an email from him telling me, "Sure send in a field report."

I hear Dave Hill talking about how he is a contributor to This American Life and I listen the Marc Maron talk about how the coolest people listen to this American Life and how the TAL never ask him to be on a show. I said, "What the Fuck" and decided to email TAL my story.

Same thing. If I don't hear right back I feel completely rejected because that's how amateurs feel when they put themselves out there. The pro doesn't take it personally and keeps his head to the grindstone, focusing on what's important, the work. I just wish I knew what the "work" was when it comes to me.

To my surprise I heard from a producer of TAL. She left me a phone message saying she was interested in talking to me and that it seemed from my pitch that things got pretty bad for me. Then she chuckled at my life's wreckage and then she apologized for laughing at my pain.

My head can go from the worst to the best so quickly it's surprising I don't get sick.

When I spoke with the TAL producer on the phone she opened the questions with, "Did you really think the universe would take care of you just for doing something you're passionate about?"

I replied, "Yes."

She shot back, "That's sounds so naive to me."

Right then my heart sank. I'm overly sensitive but I felt like I was being ridiculed from the start. Sounds stupid but it felt like I was being bullied. She wasn't bullying me on purpose, it just felt that way. When someone disagrees with you and it comes from a place of, "There is no chance in the world that Duke could of been on to something." It felt like she was saying, "How stupid are you to believe the universe would take care of you?" She kept saying over and over that it sounds very naive.

Then she asked, "How old are you?"

I said, "Are you trying to tell me I'm naive again?" She already mentioned that I was naive like 5 times by now and we were only a couple minutes into the phone call.

She knew how old I was. She just wanted to slam me with the whole you're naive thing again. She told my that she thinks life is just choices, you make them, and you live with the results. I started to feel that she's from NYC and people from NYC think they are better than other people. People from cities are like that, it might even be true to some extent but I was feeling the opposite end of that perspective. When I lived in San Francisco I probably felt that way a little.

I wonder if when you question someone's entire perspective on reality it makes them defensive? I think that is how I choose to look at her opening barrage of questions, designed to label me as wrong, now. Maybe something from her ego had to slam me down because if that statement were even slightly true her reality would be smashed.

I had to think about it for a while. I'm in between perspectives right now. Is there things in life that are meant to be? Or is life just a series of choices that you need to live with?

I was listening to a podcast host speaking of how physicists say that Deepak Chopra's physics don't match up to science. It's probably true but I still enjoy his book on the 7 laws of success. The seventh law is called Dharma. Basically Dharma is knowing what you were meant to do. Every person has a unique gift that they can express better than anyone else, Dharma is the expression of this gift and when you are in Dharma basically the universe takes care of you.

---------------The procrastination demons have taken me over, I can't write anymore so I will finish this later------------------------

--------It's hours later. Both kids are here with two more kids and they're playing the wii in between going crazy, being hysterical, and laugh-crying. So I'm attempting to ignore all this and continue writing.-------------------------

I think there are certain truths that words can't explain. Words can give you direction to the unspoken but you must let go of them once you make it there. That's how I answer the criticism to Deepak. His science doesn't match up because maybe it goes to a place that science can't answer yet and words can't quite describe. We can't hold on to words or truths too hard. Just enough to let us maneuver through the world. I personally live on different levels of perspective and it gives me the flexibility to move through the world and into different realities with ease. I know this doesn't make much sense and I don't have the energy to go deeper into it but I will throw down an analogy.

I am a spiritual tool man. A tool man collects all the tools and learns to use them all. A tool man understands that some tools contradict each other. A philips head screw driver and a flat head screw driver contradict each other, but this doesn't bother the tool man. He knows that one tool is for one job and the other is for another job. Then we have the hammer which is for a different job altogether. Could you imagine what a house would look like like if the carpenter only used a hammer? Some people find one tool (perspective) which allows them to deal with life. (Ex. Life is choices, you make them and then you live with them.) And then they live their whole life just on that perspective.

All I'm saying is that if you can collect multiple perspectives you can keep your peace of mind in different areas of life. Bruce Lee said, "I can kick everyones ass in a minute." (I'm paraphrasing) Bruce Lee studied all forms of martial arts to he could beat anyone. What if we didn't limit ourselves to one religion? What if we were like Bruce Lee and took the strengths of all the religions? That's what Bruce did, took the strengths from all of them and kicked ass.

So do I believe that the Universe will take care of you if you find what you are passionate and good at? I do. I also believe the world is choices and we live within them.

Was it naive for me to start a talk show? It was naive if I was only going to settle for the result of replacing Conan O'brien. Was it naive to try to replace Conan O'brien? No. I don't think there is anything wrong with setting your goals high. Setting your goals high somehow gives you momentum. When I think about it now it was when Jimmy Fallen was announced to take over the show that the wind was knocked out of my sails. The naive part was too not course correct and set a new goal. When there was no replacing Conan I was just wondering the desert for the remaining episodes looking for a direction.

I'm at my best when I'm having fun and my life has some order. Clutter, chaos, and confusion took over the circumstances of my life and I was no longer having fun. It's hard to be funny when you're not having fun, that was one of the big lessons I learned from the experience.

Calling someone naive is a mask to hide your own fears of what might amount to walking through fear. No one wants to walk through fear. So much so that we don't even want to look at our fear and we want to criticize those who do as naive or whatever other name works for the situation.

This is what I believe. You can't just choose something and be passionate about it and that's it. Some of us (I'm talking about me) have hidden who we really are deep down. We don't know what's deep down inside of us and it's scary to look. We don't know who we truly are. This is me. I don't really know who I am. The thing with me is that I'm looking. I'm trying. I believe that you need to know yourself, know what you are good at, know what it is that you can really do. What's your thing? Discover this, cultivate it and I do believe that the universe will take care of you if you are trying to do something with this talent.

I heard someone say, "If you try to make something happen, then something might happen. If you don't try to make something happen then something probably won't happen."

Just trying to make something happen is the key. This is how something might happen and it might be something completely different then what you were trying to make happen. But it's the trying to make something happen that gets something to happen. And this is the choice that must be made.

Get to know yourself, try to make something happen, and then listen to what the universe is telling you and follow that.

I hate you, now you're dead

Have you ever hated someone? Have you had that person hate you? It's happened a couple times in my life where I hated someone and then they died. I don't engage in too much magical thinking and believe that I can kill people with my thoughts but sometimes I go there and it feels good. Ok I'm a bad person. Or maybe I'm human. It should never feel good when someone dies right? Stop shoulding all over me.

The guy that introduced me to my wife I ended up hating, but he gave me a lot. I guess you could say that all the good family stuff that's in my life was a result of this guy. I'm sure that's what he thought. I heard he was upset that he wasn't invited to the wedding, that's what he told people and that he introduced us. I actually forgot that he introduced us until I heard of his complaints. We probably would have invited him if I had remembered that but the wedding was expensive enough and the guest list was getting ridiculous. The wedding was pretty ridiculous too in the fact that it was a sober wedding but half my friends were drunks. The wedding is a different story altogether.

How did I meet my wife? I thought I was going to write about hating people to death but here we are at the romantic stage of my love affair with my wife.

On a tangent it seems like every time I try to string a story together I have to jump years back to give the listener the back story. I usually get so frustrated in my head thinking that the listener needs to know all the facts, but then I think the listener wants the condensed version and then I start stressing out that I don't have the condensed version and then my story ends up being me stuttering a group of incoherent words together. Later on or probably right at that moment I begin the negative self talk and shame spiral.

Fuck it, no one is reading so tangents and backstories here I come.

My mind went back like three more stories just giving it a second to think. I went from the ninth grade study skills class where I made a list of goals. My list was a group of actions to be in a rock band.

But then my head went back to junior high. We rented a guitar and I banged away and made recordings and songs before I knew a chord.

I wanted my own guitar and my mom got me one on Christmas the day after I tried acid for the first time. That was when I was a freshman in high school, the same year I heard purple haze and the Beatles later albums. I also listened to the Dark side of the moon and thought that I met the devil after my friend and I were making each other faint while listening to Pink Floyd and I triggered my first ever panic attack at age 15.

Then my mind went back to fourth grade. In 4th grade were allowed to join band. For some reason I thought the saxophone was really cool. I imagined myself dancing around in a cool way playing jazz. Music was the beginning of not practicing and my relationship with procrastination. I rarely did homework in school too and I'm remembering, always showing up empty handed. I remember Mrs. Mays yelling at me.

Let's get out of elementary and go back to jr high. I met Jason E the first day in 7th grade in band. We both played sax. I said, "Are you good?" And he replied, "Yes." Jason is now the equivalent of the town drunk. How did such a sweet guy, who was my junior high band friend end up there? I remember when we both wore Don Johnson jackets to the 7th grade dance.

In seventh grade I signed up for the school elections. The position I ran for? 8th grade rep. I know, you're thinking this Duke guy is pretty cool. I remember my friend Chris's Dad helped me write a speech. I lived with Chris's family because my Mom worked so much. I was a latch key kid but that's another story and I'm already working on about 7 stories now.

I was Joe Isuzu.

I just took a moment to watch a couple videos of Joe Isuzu on youtube.

He was a commercial spokesperson for Isuzu who was known to tell corny lies. He would tell a funny lie and then there would be words at the bottom of the screen which would tell the truth. I was Duke "Isuzu" Fightmaster running for 8th grade rep. My friend David K came up on stage with me in front of what felt like 1000 kids. Dave was carrying big signs with words on them that I put together with my friends Dad's help. I told the School, "If you vote for me I promise free limousine service to and from school."

Dave held up a sign that read, "Look for large yellow limousines carrying 50-60 kids".

I said, "If you vote for me I promise no charge on Nachos."

Dave held a sign that read, "No charge, cash only."

As I'm sure you can guess I won. People were calling me Duke "Isuzu" for the whole next year.

The following year the student government class was at the same time the 8th grade band was so I had to be in the 7th grade band when I was in 8th grade and I wasn't into it. By the way, just thinking of the student council class right now reminds me of Amy, another student leader, coming up to me crying and showing me where she cut her wrists. She also told me that if a girl puts her legs together standing up and the thighs don't touch each other all the way up to the crotch then the girl has perfect legs. I came into class one day and Amy was sucking on a popsicle called a big stick and she asked me how my big stick was. I also remember her talking to another student leader about Friday night. She was saying that they were going to meet high school boys, who were going to take them out, then to a party and then they are (She said this last part in a screaming, giggling happy voice) GOING TO RAPE US!!! YEAH!!!!!!

So like I said I didn't want to be in 7th grade band when I was in 8th grade. They were all nerds including the teacher and I was pretty cool as you would have guessed.

---------got to go pick up one of my crazy kids now-------------

--It's like 7 hours later. I went to an audition in Santa Monica. Had a big panic attack at the end that lasted half of the ride home. I'm depressed about the recent panic attacks in my life and don't have the energy to keep the home in order. I also keep eating candy.

I did meditate this morning, which is a good thing. Now back to the blog------------------------

My friend David K was in drama in 8th grade. It seemed like fun. I remember him telling me a story about how they were improvising in class. He had to walk on stage and a girl walked towards him from the other side of the stage.

She said,"Are you Dave?"

He replied,"Are you Cheryl?"

She said, "Yes."

"Then I'm not Dave." He walked off the stage.

I thought that was a funny story and I wanted to be in the class. It just sounded fun.

I told my music teacher I wanted to quit band and be in drama. The band teacher said I couldn't quit until she met with my Mom. I still remember to this day waiting for my mom to get out of the meeting with the music teacher after school. I remember I was trying to show off in front of a band student in front of the school. For some reason I had my Mom's car keys and I was taking up my friend on a dare to drive the car. I was in the drivers seat and had the keys in the ignition. I kept stalling the car because I didn't know how to drive a stick.

My Mom came out finally, I didn't get caught driving the car. She let the music teacher convince her that I needed to stay in music. I still resent my Mom to this day for that! I think I would have been good in drama. 8th grade was perfect timing. Fuck you Mom. How lame is it to still be mad at your mom for something in 8th grade?

My resentments towards my Mom go back to birth. My Dad was a John Wayne fan. He wanted to name me Duke. My mom got cold feet and put Paul on the birth certificate (Paul was my Dad's name). Then she brought me home and decided to call me Duke. Typical wishy washy Mom move that will effect somebody's entire life! All through school I had to explain that Duke was my real name. Still to this day at jobs or any type of paper work I have to go through the hassle. JUST FUCKING PUT DUKE ON THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE!!!!!!!

When I was fooling myself into being a music vocal major at SFSU I took a theater class and really enjoyed it, so I know at some point it's my fault for not following up. The signs were there in college. I should take a class now probably. Stop shoulding all over me Duke. OK, I could take a theater class now.

So in ninth grade my teacher had us write out a goal and all the actions to achieve this goal. Although that teacher didn't like me too much, out of all the teachers she was the one who had some lasting impact. My goal was to be in a band. I took the actions and did it. We had fun, we rocked, we broke up, but that's another story.

I'm 22 years old now and the band has broke up. I moved to San Francisco to chase the girl I was going out with that wasn't going out with me. That girl wanted nothing to do with me. I'm sober and going to meetings. I'm writing a ton of songs and I guess people knew that I played music, at least Tom (the guy I eventually hate) did.

Tom approached me and said he was the drummer in a band and said they had a three hour gig and were looking for musicians to join them to play their original songs with them. I agreed.

I remember showing up to the practice space. One of those dirty places downtown. I walked in the room and saw this beautiful blond. She was wearing bike shorts. I remember trying to look away because all I wanted to do was stare at her. I remember thinking this girl is hot, not to mention she can sing and she's singing my songs.

The gig was great. Lesley and I danced together and the song "sleepwalk" became our song. I remember trying to hide my boner. We became inseparable and started our own band. There's another 40 stories with me and Lesley but that's another time.

This Tom guy was and artist. He would have art shows with bands.

A little tangent. I told my mentor Lord Ha that I wanted to start a skateboard company. He said to call the company "Broken". "Broken" was the one tattoo he ever gave anyone. To a girl who ended up saying she regretted it and then hung herself but that's another story. Lord said to have a mascot, I guess he would be the broken guy who would skate around and break things. He would break a church, a sidewalk, or maybe a car. Our motto would be EFW Eat Fuck Win!!

I hired Tom to draw the character. He said he would do it for $25 a drawing, which I know is really cheap (maybe it was $50 I can't remember). I asked him to do three. He did two and I paid him for two. Then one day he called me up and asked for the rest of the money. I told him I wanted the third picture if I was going to pay him the rest. He said he would bring the picture and wanted to meet me right then. We met by Van Ness and jackson. He didn't bring the picture.

He said, "Do you have the money?"

I said, "Where's the picture?"

He said, "I forgot it."

Then he told me how he could go back and get it but it was in a tone that said, "Duke you are an asshole if you don't give me the money right now."

I reluctantly gave him the cash. I never saw the picture and I just felt burned.

Like I said Tom had art shows with bands. He had multiple bands lined up to play and he told us we were to play last. I hate playing last by the way. Even comedy, you want to hit the sweet spot, right before people are getting sick of what's going on. The 2nd music act finished and it was maybe 10. The place was pretty full with people. It was the perfect time to play. I asked Tom if we could go on then. He said no you guys are last . I watched 5 minutes go by, then 10, then 20 then fucking 45 minutes went by and we could have finished playing by now you mother fucker!!!!!

Finally his band went on and played forever. By the time we went up most of the people were gone. I was so pissed! I swore I would never step foot in his studio again.

Tom had a toothache. It got worse but he ignored it. He got sick and kept thinking it will go away. 2 and a half days later they took him to the hospital and the doctor said the infection spread through his body and he would be dead in a few hours (This same thing happened to my friend Paul Cohen who had his feet amputated but it was too late. He got to call his best friend Cody and make amends on his death bed.)

I didn't get any death bed amends. I don't think anyone did because Tom went so quickly. When you resent someone and then they die it's a strange thing. Part of you doesn't feel bad, but it's not a good thing to hold on to that anger. The anger then just gets stuffed deep down and comes out years later in the form of a panic attack at an audition in Santa Monica.

The thing I don't want to see is how I'm that guy. I'm the guy that I hate. I can be so wrapped up in my own world that I don't care about others. I can screw people over without knowing it. I don't want to be hated. I want forgiveness. If that's what I want then that's what I have to give.

I forgive the debt Tom. Keep that picture for me in the after life. I also forgive you for not letting me play the sweet spot. There's more sweet spots that I will hit in this life.

I also want to thank you for bringing me to play with your band. I met the most beautiful woman in the world and made an unbelievably rich life with her. Many thanks to you for the love that surrounds me and continues to grow in and around me.

Rest in Peace Tom.

Crazy me crazy you

Believe it or not, I can be an almost articulate speaker. That's what the old guy told me at the place where crazy people hang out. I was asked to speak in front of a group of 50 people who have a problem with being crazy but surround themselves with money to take the edge off. This group of crazies also likes to fight within themselves. Just so you know I'm not talking about the voices in my head, although that description would work.

People are crazy. They say, "Let's get all the crazy people and put them together in one room, then they can help each other." Sounds like a great idea! Half the crazy people like to think they're not crazy. These are the craziest. In fact I think if you are legitimately crazy you don't know it. The people that are honest about being crazy are the normal ones. This is "Duke psychology" so don't use any of it.

At this speaking engagement for the insane I decided to talk about thinking. Crazy fucked up thoughts that come into my head. About 12-13 years ago my girlfriend (Who is now my wife) and I were holding hands, walking around the block in San Francisco. I looked down at the sidewalk and noticed that someone left a car battery there. I started laughing. I told my wife,"Wouldn't it be hilarious if I took that car battery and smashed it over your head?" I thought that was the funniest thing in the world to say at the time. I couldn't stop laughing. My wife made it clear that she didn't think that was funny. Why would such a random crazy thought pop into my head?

I have an old friend in his late 70's named Ben. I said,"Ben, I have crazy thoughts that pop into my head sometimes. Does this ever happen to you?"

He said,"All the time. One time I was carrying a hot cup of coffee in one hand and I kneeled down to look at this baby in a stroller. I told the mom,'Wouldn't it be hilarious if I through this hot cup of coffee in this baby's face?' She got very upset and left."

Thanks Ben for sharing that with me. I'm not alone. At this point it's 7:10 am and as I'm sharing this story in front of 50 crazy people they are staring at me in silence. Why does sharing thoughts have to be so controversial? OK they're fucked up thoughts but why can't we just say, "Hey I had a crazy thought." and then not be judged so harshly. I think everyone thinks fucked up shit. We all probably have dark, strange or plain weird thoughts that we tell ourselves, "No one can ever hear this. People will think I'm crazy!"

We keep telling ourselves this and we say, "We shouldn't even be thinking this." And we try our best to stuff the thoughts down. Deeper down until they lie just below the surface. This way our thinking above the surface can be clean, like the Stepford wives. The only problem is we end up going to meetings for crazy people at 7am and then getting offended when anyone begins to discuss those things we thought we hid deep within us. We tell ourselves, "I can't wake up that monster within." So we get angry and we sit in silent resentment as we shoot daggers at Duke.

Sometimes I'll get a thought that pops into my head that says,"You suck Duke!"

Where did that come from?

Second thought,"I do suck."

Next thought, "You should die."

Other voice,"I should die, but how? A gun? A rope? A mob of crazy people that go to meetings for crazy people?"

I don't stop this line of thinking I just plow ahead. I know this might be a good time to stop thinking like this but I can't help myself I want to keep thinking like this.

Follow up thought,"Who's going to be at my funeral? Probably a lot of people."

I'm looking at them from above. They're very sad. But then I see her!! That fucking bitch is not my friend. I'm looking at this girl that I despise. She's telling people how close we were as she cries. I do not like this person at all.

Next thought,"Fuck her I'm not going to die!"

These thoughts are very uncomfortable. My muscles have all tightened, my stomach is in knots, and my headspace is on the "I'm fucked up" side of mental health.

This is the point I'm trying to get across to these crazies listening to me talk:

We are not responsible for the first thought that pops into our head , but we are responsible for entertaining that thought thereafter.

I suggest that when the first thought pops up, consider writing, talking to a friend, or thinking about something that we enjoy thinking about. My first mentor encouraged me to learn the difference between thoughts and feelings. A feeling is like the weather, it's hard to change the weather. It's either cloudy, rainy, or sunny. That's that. But a thought is something you can change.

So instead of saying,"I feel like I suck and want to die." try saying, "I think I suck and I'm thinking about dying." Then you can easily say,"Why don't I just think about something else, that didn't make me feel that good." There's two real emotions: Pleasant and unpleasant. If you're feeling unpleasant then try doing something different, something that makes you feel better. That's another thing I've heard:

It's hard for depression to hit a moving target.

Back to the crazy meeting. I've finished my share and the group seems to be split. Apparently I'm a polarizing speaker. Half the room is thinking, "Hot coffee on a baby's face? Duke is out of line!" And the other half is thinking, "I have crazy thoughts too and I appreciate hearing some solution."

One lady shared about how she was driving down the highway the other day and she saw a jogger up ahead. Her thought,"I wonder what it would feel like to run this guy over?" Not a good thought, but hey it's just a thought. She also explained that by becoming aware of her thoughts she knows when she has to do work on herself.

Then about halfway through the portion where the audience makes comments a gentleman, a very uptight gentleman, says, "I don't like what Duke shared. You shouldn't talk about those things. You're going to scare people away." He went on and on basically saying that I'm wrong.

Now there's a strange thing about being attacked in front of a group. As a comedian you have to go through all kinds of painful stuff in front of people. The awkward silence when you want them to laugh is the worse, then there's is the times when no one listens at all, and then there is the most jolting, being booed by 150 people on a Monday night at the Auld Dubliner, but that's another story.

The room is silent and this guy is disapproving of me in front of the group.

I've got to back track for a second and let you know that the guy who asked me to speak gave me a big Starbucks coffee. I'm high on caffeine. I'm in my head and I'm staring at this disapproving gentleman as I'm getting called out at group level. Then my body slams into a different reality.

God damn panic attack!

Sweaty palms, heart palpitations, an out of this world craziness flowing through my veins. A panic attack is like an acid trip gone bad. A panic attack is like the scariest part of a nightmare movie only it's going on in your head.

I ride it out but now I'm in a different realm. I'm tripping in a different dimension and panic attacks can do that. Maybe they make you hyper aware or bring you smack dab into the moment, but either way your thinking is different and so is your reality. They say it's the same feeling your body would give you if you were about to be attacked by a lion. The fight or flight response. The only problem is it's a feeling out of context. You are in no immediate danger. And this is why I say it's trippy.

After this meeting I strangely walk over to an old man sitting by himself. He has white hair, looks like he's someone who was successful in life but there's something a little off about him. I sit down and start talking with him. Turns out he was a motorcycle racer and he recently got in his fifth accident. The man starts crying right in front of me.

I don't know what it is but I do have a strange ability that allows people to share their feelings with me. Sounds weird because I share my feelings with no one.

So I'm on the after effects of what was a bad LSD trip and now an old man is crying in front of me. The doctors have told him he has an aneurism and he will begin to quickly fade away and die shortly. I let him talk for twenty minutes. I told him that sometimes in life something happens which gives us the ability to see what's really important. He said his wife was mad at him for dying. Turns out she's his 4th wife. He said it's his great grand kids that are important but he's never met them. He apologizes for crying in front of me but says he feels better and we go our separate ways.

This makes me want to focus on what's important in my life. Sometimes I feel directionless but lately I feel some order sweeping into my life that feels right. I think that's your best gauge, Does it feel right? If not make the course correction until it does.

Moonshots

I don't want to be here writing. I don't want to sit down right now. This is going to suck...blah blah blah!!!!!!

Fuck it I'm writing. Duke you are so lame for writing shit and publishing it on the web. Yeah maybe I am lame...fuck you. No fuck you. No fuck you and shut up while I write.

OK enough of that.

I had a business at one time. I don't know how it happened. One minute I'm in my bedroom working in my boxer shorts all day listening to Howard Stern and the next thing you know I'm in an office building with 23 employees whom I was doing the payroll for and basically responsible for paying their rent. What the fuck? How did I get here? That's another story. I have a lot of "That's another story" statements within my writing I'm noticing.

I'm getting paid pretty good but I'm stressing out because it seems like a headache each month to keep this business going. My partner and I are having huge power struggle arguments and confrontations, so much so that we go to therapy. But, you guessed it, that's another story.

So many bills, so many costs, so much money freely flying every which direction. I feel like a guy trapped in a wind box with flying money all around him desperately trying to grab what he can but it just keeps slipping through my hands. I have my own office and I spend my days procrastinating from making hard decisions that could effect peoples lives. People with families and bills of their own. I've got my wife in my ear, and it always seems to be pulling me in a direction of comfrontation. I can't get a grip of things.

I heard of this company called Score. Score is a company, I believe they are non profit, that is comprised of older successful business people that want to donate their time and experience to young entrepreneurs like myself. I remember going to meet with this guy at the score office. I waited in line. The guy in front of me was some guy with a business idea just asking questions like, "will this work?" "How do I start a business?" and other general questions coming from a guy in the first phases of wanting to step out and do something for the first time in his life.

I probably was feeling somewhat cool when it was my turn and I started off by saying that I have a business with 23 employees. I told him about all of these seemingly random expenses and bills and payrolls and overall business confusion that I was going through. I was basically telling him that I was lost in a sea of confusion that seemed like a sand storm of important unmade decisions that left me feeling both stressed and numb at the same time, if that's possible.

He introduced me to some accounting techniques, the main one being the cash flow statement. He said even now that he's older and successful he looks at where the money is going and coming at the end of each month. He will sit down with his wife and discuss what they are spending money on and what it is they they want to spend money on in the future.

This guy (from Score) Bill was cool. He was a multi millionaire who started an electronics business from his garage in the suburbs. I think he might of took the idea from someone else and just did it better but that's another story. He ended up selling the company for something like 20 million dollars. Now he lives on the beach and donates his time to score. He also spends time making music on the computer which I thought was pretty cool for an 80 year old guy. One other thing about Bill is that he drove just a regular small pick up truck. I remember my partner was so curious to see his car. I think sometimes the truly successful people don't care about showing off their money. The habits they learned regarding living within their means has remained deeply ingrained in them. But this is another story. We set up an appointment for Bill and his friend Jim to come to our office and give us some free mentoring.

I love the idea of a mentor. Someone that has accomplished what you want and they are willing to take you under their wing to guide you past the pitfalls that they learned from their experience so you to can achieve success. I've had one true mentor who taught me more about life in a short period of time than I had learned in the 22 years before I met him. I wish I had another mentor right now but these are two different articles for another time.

Jim and Bill came over to meet and mentor. Jim turned out to be the talkative one. He was the controller at a few very successful companies and apparently a genius when it came to accounting and numbers. He started by telling me that I need to watch everything I spend and put each item into about 15 categories. Then just like Bill was telling me at the end of each month we will look at the expenses and see if anything jumps out at us. Then he asked if I had ever heard of the term "Moonshot".

He went on to explain that in the 60's the term "moonshot" was very popular. Everyone was constantly thinking about going to the moon and business experts came up with this particular metaphor titled the "moonshot".

When a rocket gets launched into space with the goal of landing on the moon it's never a straight shot. Inevitably the rocket will get off course. It will start traveling too far to the left. The people in control of the rocket, I don't know what these people are called, space ship navigators?. (Hey reader, don't worry about it just keep paying attention to the lesson.) When the rocket goes too far left they make an adjustment to the right. Then it starts getting back on course. But, I bet you already know what happens, it's on course for a while but then it starts going too far right. So what do you do? You make the correction. It goes off again, make the correction.

You don't just say,"Oh I guess it's going too far left, that's that." and watch it race pass the moon. You make the correction and you keep doing it until it hits the moon. This is called "course correction." "Course correction" is definitely a lesson I need to learn. I've recently been looking back at my life to see how I just kept the course with no correction. Many rockets in my life have passed the moon. Maybe most of them have.

There was the time when the girl from high school dated me for 3 months yet I dated her for 5 years. On retrospect I could have done some evaluation and course correction which would have saved me some pain. Since junior high I wanted to be a rock star. The band broke up and I blamed the lead singer. I said I will be the lead singer, and be reliable. Problem is I can't really sing. That's not a problem I thought, "I'll learn to sing." I took lessens. I went to music school at San Francisco State. I tried out for the vocal program. You have to get in front of three professors and sing for them. They quickly realized that singing wasn't my forte and said I can't be in the "vocal major program" but I can major in general music and take the voice class. I took this particular voice class over 8 semesters in a row and practiced constantly. The teacher said I was definitely tenacious. (To my credit I did improve as a singer) but I never became this natural talent and I wasn't going to make it as a singer. I went years and years with this thought. Some self analyses and course correction was definitely in order.

Let's not even mention the time I decided to become the replacement for Conan O'brien and did 114 talk shows in 2 1/2 years on my own dime.

How many times in my life have I kept repeating the same thing that doesn't really work over and over because I'm scared of being wrong and scared to try something unfamiliar? There's a fear of failure that holds us back. Because in order to succeed we have to alter the course and every time you alter the course chances are the new direction you take will not be the one that hits the moon. It'll in essence be a failure and will be painful. We know the direction we are currently heading and we become attached to it. It feels comfortable, it's what we know, and worst of all it becomes a part of us. Maybe each time you course correct you are loosing a part of yourself. Each course correction is a little like death and we're scared of death. Maybe success is death and when they say you are scared of success it really means you're scared of death. Maybe being successful means you need to kill off who you are, the loser part. You need to become someone else and that's scary because we imagine this someone else as being like some complete kook. So we stick on the path that is familiar and slowly it eats us up inside until we die of cancer, literally or metaphorically.

Maybe we're scared of becoming the type of person we detest. We don't want to change. We don't want to become someone we don't like, but ironically it's by not changing that we become the person we hate.

I'm making a guess and have a theory that when we "course correct" and head toward success, we become nothing like the person we detest but with every "course correction" we become closer to who we always wanted to be. Our best.

Fuck you amateur!

Let me start off by breaking my rule which I seem to have been breaking a lot these days. My rule: No disclaimers. Don't give fucking disclaimers. Don't get up on stage and start telling everyone that you haven't practiced or this is usually funnier or whatever kind of bullshit excuse you have to let people know why you are about to suck. Sometimes you've got to say "Fuck it" and just go for it. Most of the time people don't know the difference and anyways the reason something doesn't suck is usually because you deliver it with some sort of balls.

Man I really forgot about this rule of mine. I'm going on a tangent already but what the hell. I turn on the microphone and just start letting my brain take over. The brain that wants to self sabotage and say "You suck Duke!". I guess you've got to be honest sometimes and that kind of expression has it's place but you can't live there.

So what was the disclaimer I was about to start with? Oh yes I remember. Most of my ideas, probably all of them are unoriginal. Most of my thoughts are stuff that I heard from people I thought were smart at the time and then I just regurgitate them and repeat them as my own. I recently read the book "The Art of War" and it was inspirational and eye opening to say the least. So any opinions that I now claim as my own that might have came from this book I'm freely admitting that I steal outright. But come on, is the stuff this guy wrote really original? He even claims himself that inspiration is a universal thing and open to everyone who pursues creativity in a persistent and honest way. He basically says the genius he has is not him but it's angels whispering to him when he is in the creative zone. They want to whisper to everyone and are available for everyone but only if you have balls. I'm attempting to use my balls more and more these days.

The thing a professional knows that an amateur doesn't is the difference between what's urgent and what's important. A while back I was asked to host a fund raising auction. People donated goods and services, I talked into a wireless microphone, and money was made. One lady donated photography. It was labeled as a "$500" value. Right off the bat I've got to say that if I'm spending $500 bucks the picture should have a somewhat decent result and the photographer should at least show up on time.

This fucking bitch could not have been more of a headache. I hosted this auction maybe over 6 months ago. At first I asked her to come photograph me at Club M when I was hosting the Duke Fightmaster show at a night club. She's supposed to show up at 630pm. She keeps texting me that she's running late. I'm stressing out on setting up the show as I did every week by myself with out the help of all my freeloader friends but that's another story. 7 pm text, "I'm almost there." 730 pm text ,"Where is it?" 8 pm text "I can't find it." 805pm she's ringing me.

Hey lady I can't answer your stupid call because I'm delivering a fucking monologue right now! Why don't you walk to the fucking address? Why don't you ask somebody where Club M is? Why are you so incompetent yet you claim your services are worth $500?

She just gave up. We tried to set up schedules for more shoots in over the next few months with the same results and I finally just said, "Fuck this lady I will never deal with her again." If someone is consistently upsetting you and letting you down, drop them. That is a lesson that I seem to have had to repeat often. Meanwhile, just enough time has passed for me to let her rope me into her little world of dysfunction.

I want to tell the rest of the story but I have to pick up my youngest son Stone and although I am in the middle of the question "Is it urgent or is it important?" It is urgent to pick up Stone and it's important to write but I guess it's also important to be a dad. So here I go being an important dad and I'll be back for the finish maybe.

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Ok I'm back 7 hours later. I've had crazy kids in your face energy for for 7 hours straight and I'm completely burnt. We just had dinner. Mom's gone. I'm empty. Got a text from Lesley asking the last time we had sex and I couldn't remember. It was actually pretty recent for us but I still couldn't remember. She's uses an "IUD", is that the name? Or maybe it's an "AUD"? Anyways it's something they shove up into the you know where and then you can have all the sex you want with your partner without the worries and stresses that parenthood can bring. I can't even imagine having another one. Three kids would be a nightmare and I would like to save this discussion for another day. Let's get back to the topic which I believe was "Fuck you you amateur bitch!" or something along those lines.

So this lazy photographer feels guilty because she donated her services and knows that deep down she is a loser and hasn't lived up to what she said she was going to do. I'm hard on this lady but it's probably because I'm hard on myself and I see myself pull shit like this. I know what it's like to have a voice at the core of your being which says "You are a loser." I have that voice and I've hit the bottom of my core one time and started crying but that is another story in itself. Every now and then the photographer lady has this thought that says she has not done what she said she was going to do. It crosses her mind and so she wants to reach out to me so I can get my picture taken and cure her guilt.

So we go back and forth for a few weeks with her ambiguous talk and unreliable words. I sent her a text Sunday night and asked if we could meet tuesday morning. She said yes. More red flags arose as she was telling me she wanted to take the picture in Laguna beach on the sand or on the top of the world which is a cliche scenic spot for terrible family portraits. I tell her I just want a comedy headshot. Now she has the ideas for comedy shots that start to scare me. I tell her I just want a shot in front of my van with the Indian and the curtains. She says that's not funny and that she knows funny because she used to write comedy. I say text me your email. She never does.

------- OK kids just went crazy again. I told them to take a bath as I was writing and they got in a fight in the tub. I ran up and got mad. Finished the bath , read stories and now they're in bed. With that I continue.

The next day is Monday. Our meeting is scheduled for tuesday. She calls Monday morning and asks if I want to meet at 10am. I said I thought we were meeting at 8am. She says 8am passed. I say we are scheduled to meet tomorrow. She says she has it in her calendar for today. I say the text message clearly says tuesday. This chick is so amateur on so many levels and so am I because somehow I am still dealing with her. I tell her I have to pick up my son in an hour and a half. Long story short I convince her to come to my place after arguing with her on what would be a funny location. I don't even care about funny anymore I just want her out of my hair. I just want her to take the picture get her guilt relieved and get out of my life. I give her directions to my place and she's on her way. She tried to come up with another excuse about how she wanted to go to her farmers bank but I convinced her to just come now and get it over with.

I immediately go into "Duke is going to get stuff done mode" and create a set on the street in front of our house. I get all the talk show stuff down from the attic. I put the van in the street hang the Indian and the curtains down the side of the van. Hung the applause sign, hung my suit on the van and lined up my old school skateboards. Then I ran an extension chord to make the applause sign light up.

As I was running in and out of the house Lesley made some remark about how she was waiting for me to do the dishes and laid some bullshit martyr like comment while she did the dishes. I quickly snapped back,"I clean the house everyday after I drop off the kids! I have a photo shoot right now so back off!"I keep the a clean house and do more than my part to keep the place in order so I don't have too much of a bad feeling about our exchange. If she wants to lunge out and bite me don't get mad if I bite back. But that too is another story.

This photography lady shows up. It's 858 am and she tells me she has a call from Britain at 9am.

"You have a fucking what?!"

So right when she begins the shoot the phone rings. I can hear the person on the other line asking if she needs to go.

"No I'm a professional. I've been doing this for 30 years. I'm a multi tasker."

This lady is so ridiculous and so am I. She continues to take the pictures while talking on the phone for about 5 minutes and then says she thinks she's got it. I make her take a few more and then she's gone.

Don't you love it when people go out of their way to tell you they're a professional. It's always the people that have to constantly tell you how good they are that you need to watch out for.

I'm sorry but you're not a fucking professional you are an amateur. You don't know the difference between what's urgent and what's important. And by the way you are not a multi tasker. You are a lady that takes bad pictures while talking on the phone and you are a lady that has annoyingly inattentive phone calls because you try to take pictures while you talk. Your life is a mess. Your mind is a mess and your sphere of people you come into contact with are annoyed and a mess.

So to you I say "Fuck you amateur!"

I hope I get a good picture out of this.

Being excellent or being annoyingly lame

First off, if you are reading this then you are reading something not really meant to be read. Don't get me wrong if you want to continue reading then be my guest. I don't mind if you read this I'm just telling you now I'm writing for the sake of writing, not for you to read. I'm in a place where I just want to figure out my creative outlet. Like many creative people people I suffer hard from procrastination. It's not that I won't do it, it's just that I can always do it tomorrow. The only problem with that is the next thing you know you're 37 years old and you're writing a blog meant for no one to read.

Self promotion. What's up with that? That's me wearing a sports coat with the sleeves rolled up in a Seinfeld voice. I have always said that there is nothing worse than that guy that invites you to see his band play on Monday night. He's almost kind of guilting you into it. You want to support the guy but you really don't want to go out on Monday night. You're burnt from work and you just want to zone out in front of the TV, overeat, masturbate and then fall asleep. You see him inviting another guy at the other end of the room and you try to avoid eye contact and make it by him, but no, you've been spotted. He makes a B-line for you and you're caught. I inevitably agree to go, with expectations that this is gonna suck. Having expectations of it sucking, dreading the event, and thinking of ways to get out of it probably don't set you up for a mind frame of having a good time.

Is it the guy who is asking me to see his band play the one that puts me in this negative space? He obviously, at least consciously, wants to have good vibes spread about in regards to his band and his Monday night show. So how does he ironically pass out the bummer vibe? It's anyone who shamelessly self promotes we seem to have an aversion to. I love the Movie the Tao of Steve. He had three rules for getting the Ladies and I'll try to paraphrase here: 1. Do something excellent in their presence. 2. Be desire-less. 3. Walk away. I'm pretty sure this was the general idea of the Steve philosophy for getting chicks.

So I go to see this guys band and guess what? The whole thing sucks. The music sucks, the singer sucks, the drummer sucks, songwriting sucks and the overall mix is wrong. They talk in between songs about how this song is going to be on their next album. One girlfriend in the audience is really excited. The audience is about 8 people who were most likely dragged to be there. Chicks don't give a fuck sometimes. If your in a band it just turns them on, they love the rock and roll bad boy. The guy sucks lady!! What is your problem? It's women like you that are allowing this guy to think his band is good and I blame you for me being guilted out tonight. But enough about my resentment towards women.

Back to my point, this guy in the band is breaking all the rules. Number one he's supposed to be excellent. Just be an incredible band and we'll love you for it, but no these guys suck. So instead of doing something great for us they decide to do something terrible for us. Number two is be desire-less. Don't want it. Be able to take it or leave it. I remember a business guy once told me that the best and strongest sales tactic was indifference. Don't give a fuck either way. These guys gave a fuck. These guys tried so hard, so hard that I wanted to puke. Number three is walk away. In the movie it was the guys that hung around the chick and clung to her and tried to hard that failed. It was the guy that was awesome in front of her, didn't give a fuck, and then walked away that the girl went for.

I listened to a podcast with Dave Hill on the Sound of Young America and he spoke of how he wanted to do comedy so he started an hour long talk show. The first show was awesome. The next four shows sucked and no one wanted to come see them anymore. His first thought was that he just started doing comedy, so why was he trying to do an hour right from the start? Maybe he should do a couple minutes? His realization of why his show began to suck? He tried too hard. Lesson learned: Don't try hard. Just open the nozzle and let it flow freely.

When I first started my talk show I had found something special. It felt new and it really felt like I was on to something. I'm a natural leader always have been, President of 6th grade, student council in Jr. High and class president my Junior and Senior year in high school. One thing that I have been able to do in the past on a number of different occasions is bring people together. I was bringing people to my talk show and it was something different. I wish I could say that I didn't care but I did. I think the physical act of bringing different and strange people into my bedroom was what ended up being some type of secret ingredient that turned the beginning of my show and overall vibe into something new and excellent. It wasn't me but it was the result of this perfect storm I was creating that was excellent.

I was always self conscious about becoming the guy asking people to see his band play but now I was not feeling that at all. People were approaching me to come to the show. I was mentioning to people that I was starting a talk show at parties and it was an interesting and fun thing to talk about. Even if I invited someone to come to the talk show I didn't mind it because it didn't feel like dragging people to something they didn't want to do it felt like I was letting people in on a secret that they were excited to learn.

I've written enough now, more on this topic later