Atheists are so trendy right now

I see the trend of atheism upon us. Bill Maher, Adam Carolla, Paul F. Tompkins and all the other cool kids are coming out of the closet. They are standing on the mountain top and proclaiming: "There is no God!"

The cool thing about the little atheist movement that seems to be getting some steam, is that they are pointing out how ridiculous religions are.

So you have an imaginary friend in the sky who talks to you? OK, fine by me just don't start killing people because of it. Don't start telling me what to do because of it. Just get out of my life. I think that's the big gripe. Religion is causing too much damage. When you have an organization that is raping children and then covering it up, it's not OK. Eventually the lid is going to blow wide open. When you have people flying airplanes into our buildings in the name of God then maybe it's time to re think this whole God business. When preachers are becoming so rich and powerful that they can hold down the minorities in our society then we have a problem. When children are corrupted with the idea that they are going to burn in hell if they have sex or even masturbate then let's step back and maybe start to question what's going on.

Religious people do not like to be questioned. If you start to poke fun at religion to a religious person they will attack you. Why do they attack? If they already know the truth then why are they attacking me for questioning it? If someone tells me that 2 plus 2 equals 6 I don't attack them. I don't get offended. I know the answer is 4.

Religious people are scared that they are wrong on some level and this is why they attack you. They're scared that they are wrong but they want to be a good little boy. "Mom and Dad told me this stuff so I have to go along with it. I'm a good boy. I'm following the rules." Many people just want to follow the rules. They don't want to stick out from the crowd they want to do what's expected from them and get an ata boy from Dad.

But then they see someone else having fun. "Why does that guy get to have fun?" they say. "Why doesn't he have to follow the rules?" "Why is he getting away with it?"

They don't want to see you getting away with something. Not after all the sacrifice they've done. Plus they're scared that they might be wrong. They hate rational questioning.

Denial is powerful. Denial can be good. It can be warm. Denial is like a warm blanket.

The truth is, no one knows what happens when you die. It's scary. I don't want to die (at least most of the time). I want to hang out, have sex and eat pizza. I don't want to spend my time worrying about dying, I want to relax and enjoy myself.

So we make up some stories to make us feel better.

Now I can have fun.

Wrong.

Someone just stole my Iphone.

OK, so we make up some more stories about what happens to you when you die if you steal an Iphone, and it's not good.

OK, now I have my warm blanket of denial on. It feels pretty good. Until that asshole comedian rips off my warm blanket. Of course I'm going to get mad. You get mad when someone wakes you up to early in the morning. You would get even madder if someone through cold water on you in the morning.

We like our sleep. I love to check out. This life is painful and as much as we are scared to die we are also scared to live.

We wear a blanket.

Being around people is fun. It can bring happiness. People have a need to be around people. Church and religion gives us this. It's called fellowship. It feels good to hang out with people. It feels good to know you are a part of a community that would help you if you needed it. It feels good to help someone else who needs it.

I wonder if some atheists are throwing the baby out with the bath water? There are good things about religion. There are certain truths or wisdom that can lead us in life. The problem is all the bullshit.

How do we get rid of all the bullshit and keep the good stuff?

If you are going to pull someone's blanket of denial off of them then you should have something better to replace it with. That's great if you can see all of the problems crystal clear, but if you don't come to the table with any solutions then you're really not that cool.

Phil Jackson says that he has to give 5 compliments for every criticism to get his players to perform effectively. Maybe we need to pull out 5 strengths of religion before we take down to bad parts.

The bad parts aren't that many in number they are just very huge in size.

Let's give up the whole I'm right and you're wrong. The killing. The judging. The hurting others. The pushing my religion onto you. Hurting children. The shame and the guilt about sex or any other natural human being experience.

If your religion is so good, how about you just practice it and when I see how happy you are I'll ask you what the secret is. Other than that shut up about it.

Hey religious people, be an example of your own belief. That's it.

Hey Atheists, find some strengths before you rip down the weaknesses.

Stand Up Comedy

So you think you're funny? You're not, you stupid fuck. Go home. Go home and cry.

OK, so you're done crying. You want to be a comic? Be in heavy denial. Be in denial and think you are funny when the crowd doesn't laugh. Or just go home and cry. The fact is you have to go through a lot of pain to be good. If you are going to be really good you probably go through more pain because you are a sensitive person. If you are not sensitive then you can go through the motions quicker and get some laughs quicker because you have a certain amount of fake confidence. But fuck you, you sound like that other guy.

It takes a true man to come out and be different. March to his own drum.

I don't really know what I'm talking about right now.

Go to an open mic. Don't tell anyone that you want to be a comic. Don't invite anyone to your shows for at least a year.

Go to an open mic and bomb. Feel like shit, consider suicide, question life and then get up the next week and do it again.

Make friends that are open mic guys. Meet people.

Listen to your act. What was funny? What did people laugh at? Do that again. Drop or rework what they didn't laugh at. Write every day even if you don't know what to write. Work the muscle. Fucking break through the pain wall, just like Arnold.

Make more friends.

Come up with 7 and a half strong minutes.

Then write an additional 7 and a half minutes.

You need 7 of these 7 and a half sets to be a headliner. Comedy is about the hour. Get an hour of comedy, that's the goal.

Write you stupid son of a bitch.

Write, write, write and then fucking perform and then rewrite.

Get obsessed. Listen to comedy podcasts. Get addicted to comedy podcasts.

Listen to great comics. Listen to more great comics. Immerse yourself with comedy.

Write more jokes. Listen and observe your world. Play out.

It's a marathon not a sprint.

Write some more.

Become comedy. You are comedy. Your life is a joke. This is all one big joke. You only see a joke. Live it. Say goodbye to sanity. Everything is on the table.

Get passionate for life. Live life to the fullest. When you live life to the fullest you take risks. When you take risks you put yourself on the line. When you put yourself on the line you get hurt. When you get hurt bad enough you make comedy.

Get hurt. Feel the pain. Experience the life. Walk through life awake and pay the price for doing so.

Laugh.

Write.

Stand up.

Depression

This was the word that came to me at 6am. I just did some yoga and I feel a little better right now. I heard that depression has a hard time hitting a moving target.

Was listening to the Al Madrigal interview on the Comedy and Everything Else podcast. Al was complaining about doing stand up. It's hard to do the road. He's got kids at home. His career isn't as far along as it should be. What's the reason to care? He cares too much.

Jimmy said that it sounded like Al was in the first phase of depression.

I guess I was depressed as a kid. That was my constant question through high school, what does anything matter? I could never understand the reason why people liked to watch sports so much. Who gives a fuck. I could never get myself to care.

Then I find myself in some midlife crisis, starting a talk show, yet feeling tied down to a wife and kids and then just falling deeper in the hole.

OK so depression has a tough time hitting a moving target. So I just did yoga and before that I cleaned up the house. Keep moving.

My fingers are moving now.

What comes out is not my problem. All I need to be concerned with is that my fingers are moving.

Stream

My inner workings of a life. My inner mind of a demon. My intuition is stuffed down like a pillow to the face and my depression is trying to suffocate any light. Open my eyes and I'm dreaming in. I'm focused on nothing. I'm clear around nothing and this is the place of ghosts. The place where I'm frightened to go is the place downstairs. Keep the light on in the hallway. Keep talking to me. I know the book by heart. Before you hit me can I tell you something? I love you. Fuck. I'm sick. My friends are here and fun is abound. I don't want to go to sleep. Let's stay up all night. Frightened by the killing film? I'm not. You're a dork.

Why would I publish such a thing? I'm going for 90 days. After 90 maybe I will feel better.

I have nothing to say. I'm saying nothing loud.

Fuck off and stop reading this as I publish it to the world. Deep down is the sickness deep down is the truth that no one can ever see not even me. It's too real.

Cry yourself to sleep and then never cry again. Repeat this for generations. Am I an animal? Is this the reasoning for my lack of I don't know. Calling myself phony. Calling myself leader. All names can die. Clean it away. Get rid of everything. Throw it all away it has no use for you.

OK enough with the depression. ok more depression.

What does that fucked up voice in my head say? (I'm just giving him some time)

Fuck you Duke. Stab yourself Duke. You suck Duke. People think you are a phony. You are one of those guys that just wants to become famous. So much so that you turn people off. You want to take short cuts. You want to ride the coattails of people on their way up. You can't do it on your own so you want to piggyback. You are not real. You are not a real number one fan. You just want a free ride. You are a fake. You have no talent. You are a fraud. You are a fake. What are you doing? You are ridiculous. You are a thief. A lier. Selfish. A joke. Stupid. Old. Your life is wasted. Fuck you. Why try? You will fail. You are a failure. Your entire life proves that you are a failure. You're fat. You don't have what it takes to do anything you think you can do. You just can't do it. Fuck off.

OK enough of that.

I can do some stuff. I can write and do yoga everyday for over 40 days. I can do stand up each week. I can write every morning. I can play with my kids. I can make them laugh. I can have fun with my wife. She is beautiful. My children are beautiful. And they are both really funny. I love my family. I can help my son with his homework. I can read stories. I can go swimming, on bike rides and walks with my kids. I can make people laugh. I love to laugh. I love to have fun.

Loosing your mind!

This is the topic I gave myself? Loosing my mind? That's what jumped out at me. First thought best thought, right?

I'm getting crazier and crazier. Do I want to keep going down this path or will I make a u-turn and head back towards sanity?

Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.

The talking in my head gets so loud sometimes that I start talking out loud. I'll start mumbling and then I'll say, "I wish I would stab myself." Is it weird if you think of something stupid you said or did and then your mind starts saying that you should stab yourself? I get this sentence coming at me a lot lately.

The older you get the more suicide seems like an option. I remember thinking how I would never think of such a thing.

Don't worry I don't have any specific plan or real intention to carry this out but the thought does occur to me. It sounds so pathetic too. Thoughts like, "The world would be better off with out me" or "Things are definitely not going to get better it might be a good idea to swerve into oncoming traffic."

Is it so bad to talk about this stuff. It sounds pretty silly now that I'm mentioning it. It's those thoughts that are too frightening to verbalize or write down that can really fuck you over. How many people have dark thoughts that they don't even want to acknowledge to not only other people but even themselves?

"I don't have dark thoughts." They declare in there inner dialogue and they are probably the hardest to judge those that do talk about that kind of thing.

I'm fucked in the stomach right now. Major turmoil. Major artistic crisis. Fuck!!!!!!!!!

My head is restless. I have know idea where I am or where I'm headed. What am I a new school skater. That was the complaint from my mentor about new school skating. Their skate boards go in both directions. They don't have a direction.

I always thought that just because they can go both ways doesn't mean they don't have a direction. The direction is up to the skater. Not what society tells him.

What the fuck am I talking about? What's my direction?

You have to know what you want before you can choose a direction.

A skater picks his move and that determines his direction? Maybe.

What's my move? What move do I think I can pull off. I'm lost in the desert. For forty years. Is my time here almost done. Is there a new reality awaiting me?

I'm talking about one here on this dust ball.

Am I too much of a pussy to admit what I want?

I think I am.

The Fuck Yeahs!

One day in another life I had a spiritual advisor and I was open to advice. I was open to learning something new. I was teachable. I knew nothing and I knew it.

My spiritual advisor didn't like the way I was dressing. I guess I was wearing some thrift store clothes. Pants that were close to being bell bottoms with tares and holes in them.

He came over to my house with big plastic hefty trash bags. He said, "Today we are going to go through your closet."

"These are the rules," he stated, "I will take out an article of clothing and hold it in front of you Duke. I will say,'Do you want to keep this?' and if you say, 'Maybe.' then we throw it out. If you say,'I don't know.' then we throw it out. But if you say,'Fuck yeah!' then we keep it."

Sounded good to me. Like I said, I had an open mind. Sometimes when you have an open mind things happen.

We started.

He grabbed a shirt,"What do you think?"

"I don't know." I said.

He threw the shirt in the trash bag and grabbed a pair of pants,"What about these?"

"I don't know." I managed to say and they headed into the big hefty bag.

He grabbed another shirt. This time it was one that I loved. "Fuck yeah!" I blurted out. We kept that one in the closet.

We did this with all my clothes and by the end a couple hefty trash bags were completely filled.

He explained to me that nature abhors a vacuum. What this means is that nature doesn't want to see an empty space. Nature wants to fill that space.

What I learned is that if the space is already filled then nature can not fill it. If your closet is filled with "Maybes" and "I don't knows" then there is no room for the good stuff.

You have to make room.

You have to get rid of the "maybes" and "I don't knows" to make room for the "fuck yeahs!".

What are you keeping in your life that is a "maybe" or an "I don't know"? Get rid of it for nature to bring you the "fuck yeahs!".

Life lessons with Duke

OK if you are reading this for life lessons you have most likely come to the wrong place. How can a guy who is really down on himself give life lessons? I guess we will have to read on to find out.

OK what life lessons do I have stored up in my head. Too many to remember. Remember this life lesson: You only remember what you remember and the rest you forget. So write shit down.

Alright I'm barely into this thing and already I'm throwing down a gem.

Course correction. Wire balancing.

The fuck yeahs

When you grow the people around you get repulsed.

Blame is a sign to look at the signs.

Don't attach unspoken strings to your relationships. People will let you down.

Ask for help and follow your heart. (What the fuck is that cliche sounding piece of trash?)

Focus on the things you can change and let go of the things you can't.

Find out what you are good at. Do that.

-------

OK I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm trying to write everyday and I seem to be blocked. Is it possible to be blocked while typing rapidly?

Maybe this is the point. Just write. Just write and something will show itself.

I'm depressed lately. Typical story. (Maybe that's why I want to rack my head for any wisdom that's there so I can figure shit out.) I'm not happy. Something is nagging at me and I don't want to ignore it and then watch years slip by.

Here's a piece of advice: Sometimes in life windows open. Will you step in or not? This is the question. These windows of life don't always stay open for very long and when they close you don't know when the next time they will open is going to be. It could be years. It could be never.

I think that's part of why I kept going strong with my talk show for almost three years because I had been in a 13 year slump when I made a choice to get out of the creative window. I didn't want to go back.

I really relate to that movie awakenings with Robert Dinero, directed by Penny Marshall. That movie didn't get great reviews but it felt like it captured my life. This guy was in a coma state where he couldn't move his body or talk for over 30 years. They gave him a drug and he came to life. He danced. He was a normal person. Unfortunately the drug wore off and he went back to the dormant state. It was sad. I cried.

It was my life.

I've only been alive for brief, fleeting moments. Sometimes a window will come by and when you step through it you feel alive. I didn't want to give that up. I don't want to be dead.

Grown ups tell me that I'm ridiculous. I'm immature. I'm childish. I can't help it. I want to be awake. I want out of the dream. I want the real thing.

Some is not enough. I want it all. I want it now.

No advice here, just another wanderer trying to find his way. Where do I go? I want the signs to be clearer. I want the directions to be louder. I want GPS for life but it doesn't exist.

Maybe she was right. The girl that said you make choices and then the world turns out the way it's going to turn out and you live with that.

I want the feeling that what I am doing is the right thing. I've had glimpses. I know I could feel complete but I just can't get a grasp on it.

No one is there I guess. Everyone who says they are is a guru lier trying to make a buck and get laid. Who isn't trying to do that?

I want to be the best. I want to be adored. OH fuck did I just write that shit. It's true. I want people to look at me with respect.

Who am I some guy joining an inner-city gang or Rodney Dangerfield?

------------

Blocked or not I did my job. I showed up. Showing up is my biggest asset. It's also my liability. What do you do when your asset is your liability?

Get a job in show business.

IA and girl reunion part VI

We head to my ex-girlfriend's house. She said she was having a party, something inside me knew it probably wasn't a good idea to go but when I'm drunk I love to say, "Fuck it."

We arrive very late. I take out an amplifier to get Evan out of the back of the van. We knock and she answers.

The night before was magical. We reunited with a kiss and a future opportunity seemed like a reality. She invites us in. I think we might have woken her up. The house looked like there was a party there as evidence by all the empty beer cans and band equipment from some band that played the party. I'm in the kitchen talking with her about the party when we hear a girl scream from the bedroom. My ex runs out of the kitchen to see what the problem is.

It turns out that Damon went straight to the bedroom, got naked, and then proceeded to get naked and jump into my ex's roommates bed. This particular girl was a virgin from the catholic college (not that that move would really work on any girl.)

Damon comes running into the kitchen where I am. He sees a purse and reaches into it and grabs out a handful of cash.

"What the fuck are doing?!!" I yell at him. I grab the money from him and at that second my ex-girlfriend comes in the kitchen and sees me with the cash in my hand.

"Get the fuck out of here!" she says in a very not fun way. Then I think she says something along the lines of, "I never want to see you again. I hate you!!!"

She takes the cash from my hand and we leave.

I wake up the next morning crushed. One night the dream I had dreamt for four years came true. In the next night the dream had been smashed. This was the weekend before thanksgiving. This was the moment I decided to quit drinking....right after the holidays.

Within a couple days I had poison oak all over my arms, neck, chest and dick. I was fucked. I went to a party in a turtle neck and passed out on the floor. As people walked over me they pulled back my turtle neck to laugh at the poison oak that surrounded me.

That was the best / worst weekend of my life.

IA part V

Once again I don't want to fuckin write. I'm depressed and I'm hating everything and everybody, present company included.

So David D is about to punch Damon in the face. Damon is swearing up and down that he put the gas in the tank. Dave doesn't believe him and heads back to the gas station for a second trip to fill up the red little gas can.

Dave gets back, I unknowingly have poison oak all over me, and Damon is telling Dave with assurance that there is something wrong with the car other than gas. Dave puts the gas in and instructs Damon to start the van up. The engine starts right away. Damon is a fucking idiot!

We fill up and head to San Francisco. It's probably 2-3am. Damon likes to talk about stuff he knows nothing about. He likes to bullshit. He wants to be a politician. We're heading towards the bay bridge.

Damon says, "I'm going to run through the gate without paying."

This was a comment meant to get a reaction out of Al and myself. It was my van, the whole side door had already fallen off hours earlier and it didn't phase me. When you are drunk life is so much more fun!

"OK, Damon go for it!" I egg him on. I love to call people on their shit and this was the perfect opportunity.

"I'm gonna do it." Damon nervously bluffs.

"Fucking do it! Run the car through the gate you pussy!" I yell at him. Al is saying the same thing.

Damon goes straight for a gate in a closed lane on the Bay Bridge and stops.

"You pussy, I knew you couldn't do it. Wait here." I jump out of the car and physically lift the gate up on the closed lane of the bay bridge. Damon drives through and I get back in the van. We take off without paying and I never hear from anyone about it.

"Hey guys I know where there's a party." I say and give Damon directions to my girls house.

----------That's it for me, hopefully tomorrow is the shocking conclusion.

IA part IV

It's fucking late right now and I don't want to write. At least I'm writing that I don't want to write.

Some guy that I met when I lived in Santa Cruz, the land of the liberal and politically correct, named Damon was with us this night. This guy was the only republican in Santa Cruz. He wanted to be a politician.

We talked him into driving us.

The van is packed with equipment. Evan is in the very back literally trapped between PA speakers. I'm sitting shotgun, Damon's driving and Al is in the first back seat.

David D is in a car behind us. It's weird that I don't remember David D in this story at all until this part.

The van runs out of gas on some desolate windy road. Dave's car pulls up from behind to see what the problem is and offers to go get gas.

We're waiting.

I'm fucked up.

I open up the passenger door of the van to take a piss and fall straight into the brush on the side of the road. I stand up and take a piss.

Dave comes back with the gas can. Damon puts the gas in the tank. The car still won't work.

David D is pissed. He says to Damon,"Did you even get it in the gas tank?"

"Yes I definitely got it in the gas tank. The problem isn't gas," Damon replied.

David looks where the tank is and sees gas all over the ground. David wants to kick Damon's ass.

David goes once again to get gas and comes back to fill it up himself.

The car works.

(when I fell out of the car I fell all over poison oak. It got all over my body and then on my dick.)

What happens next is the kicker, stay tuned.

IA saga part III

I really didn't want to write today. But fuck it. I ate a bunch of junk food and ice cream and it's still morning. OK this really has nothing to do with the story.

Where did we leave off? I had found musicians to play drums and bass for Innocent Addicts. We traveled to St Mary's, took off our shirts, and put vests on. Evan cold called a bar and told them that we were going to come over with 200 people and a band.

Dan T was nervous. Moraga is a small town and the school was even smaller. He reluctantly came to the bar with us.

It's a dive bar. There's maybe 4 regulars sitting at the bar. We come in with 12 people and start loading equipment. Evan is wasted, and the rest of us are right behind him.

The band is ready to go.

I have the money from the stranger Frat gig from the night before. I notice Dan T is nervous in the corner.

I walk up to Dan T, "Hey Dan, what do you say you let me buy you a drink?" Dan puts a smile on his face and I put my arm around his shoulder. We walk up to the bar and I say, "Bartender, get me and my friend the cheapest shot of whiskey you got!."

Dan's smile faded quickly as his thoughts of a Samuel Adams disappeared. I took the shot and grabbed my guitar.

We kicked off the set with our first hit called "Bitchen". I start playing guitar with my teeth. Now I'm playing guitar on my back. Now I'm dancing on my back during the drum solo.

Next song..."Electronic dance floor". This is our rap slash dance song.

Next song is a cover by four non blondes, "What's going on."

Next song electronic dance floor again.

Next two songs: "What's going on." followed by a faster version of Electronic dance floor, and then for our closer "What's going on."

A local from the bar says he like's that song. At this point the drums have completely fallen apart. They moved about ten feet during the show.

I walk up to the bar and say, "Give everyone in this bar the cheapest shot of whiskey you've got!" After a couple more shots I say, "I'm going to throw up." as I'm about to throw up on the bar the bar tender carries me outside. I puke in the bushes.

The band equipment gets shoved into the van. The packing of the equipment wasn't done properly and when someone tries to force the door of my van shut, the entire door falls off onto the ground.

I say, "It looks like we won't be using that door anymore."

Somehow we get the door back on.

What happens next is the best part, but you will have to wait for part four to hear it.

Stranger, Girl, & IA part II

And now for the exciting next installment...

Evan was now the drummer for IA but what about a bass player? A close friend from high school Josh E was my band stranger's touring manager. He had bought into the dream of living the life of a rock and roller and was around for the ride. (My band years were a great ride too)

Josh had no music experience, but no musical experience was not an obstacle that could stop Innocent Addicts. The band is now complete, we taught Josh how to play bass in a couple minutes.

And now for the final piece, we needed a gig. This is when my brain seems to work best. I racked that old brain of mine and the answer that it computed was a small town called Moraga, which was the home of a little catholic college. Catholic schools love to party. Actually I think most schools love to party. My great friend Dan T was my point of contact.

Dan T was a twin that went to a rival high school of mine. In 9th grade I was arrested for LSD and my school found out. The school said I could stay as long as I played football or did some type of extra curricular activity. I played football for two years, got a trophy for being the hardest hitter and paralyzed a kid for 12 hours after one of my hits.

I didn't like football and knew I had to do something else. I ran for president. The activities director tried to rig the election so I would loose. The kids threatened a school walkout. The principle ordered a re-election and I won by a landslide.

That summer I went to student council camp and met a fellow student leader by the name of Matt T whom I spotted having a cigarette. We became best friends for the week and when we got home he invited me to see a free concert with Jefferson Starship where I was introduced to his twin brother Dan T who got me high on marijuana.

I needed a gig for IA and the answer my mind supplies me with is Dan T at St Mary's college. I get Dan on the phone and ask if he can get our band to play at the local bar. Dan is probably drunk and not thinking clearly and says, "Sure."

Innocent Addicts needs to have a theme when we play. The theme determines how we dress and puts the band into the right mood. We also need to drink many beers before we go on stage, it's kind of a rule. A couple past themes: Rodeo yet Hawaiian and Howard Stern yet lone ranger. We planned this gig very last minute so we didn't have time for a theme.

To Dan T's surprise we actually show up to his dorm room. We bust in telling him we need a theme! The band members take off our shirts and some how acquire vests. So our theme is no shirts with vests. We're drinking vodka, it's the only thing Evan drinks.

"When do we set up for our gig Dan?" I ask as I check myself out in the mirror with my vest.

"I thought you guys were kidding." Dan says.

"We were promised a fucking gig Dan. Now what's the name of the bar?" I shot back.

"Murphy's is the name of the bar but there's no way they're going to let some random band play at the last second." Dan said trying to reason with us.

"Dan we came here to play a gig and that's what we're going to do!" I confidently retorted. I turn to our new drummer, "Evan call up Murphy's and secure the show."

Evan somehow gets the number to Murphy's and calls, "Yes hi, we are celebrating a friends birthday and we were wondering if we could bring the party to your bar. We also want to bring our band to perform." Evan pauses while listening to something the bar tender is saying, "We have about 200 people. That's great we'll see you in a little bit."

We had maybe 12 people at the most.

-------My three year old needs me to play wii, stay tuned for the next shocking installment.

Stranger bombs, I kiss, and IA plans to strike!

I was in a band called Stranger. I never really liked the name but it was the one people knew us by. The band started in high school and stayed together till I was almost 22.

A friend from high school Ted C went to Berkeley. He was in some frat.

The gig paid a couple hundred bucks. Berkeley and Stanford have a big rivalry and Ted hooked us up to play after the big game. We have to be there at 2 in the afternoon right after the game. The rest of the band was in San Francisco. I was the first person to make it to the gig at maybe 1pm. Ted paid me a couple hundred bucks. Free food and free booze, my favorite things, my favorite price. I ate and I drank.

People started to arrive. I called the San Francisco house where the band was and didn't get an answer. "They're on their way." I thought.

2pm comes and passes. I begin to stress. I drink more. The place gets completely packed with people. I hear people start to yell, "Where the fuck is the band?!" The frat boys start asking Ted, "What's up with your boys?"

I begin to get the sense that Ted went out on a limb to book our band. The frat guys are starting to treat Ted like shit. I over hear guys talking shit about Ted behind his back about how he's a fuck up. Voices are yelling about how the band is a bunch of losers.

I call the house in SF again, the band just woke up and they're going to start heading over. People at the party are talking about how this party sucks. The party is starting to thin out. Someone writes on a big chalkboard that Ted is a loser. I'm hiding behind some trees with my beer. I offer Ted his money back but he tells me to keep it.

The band shows up at 8pm. There's maybe 10 to 15 people left. There was close to a few hundred when we were supposed to play. We set up and play. The lead singer gets drunk on vodka and screams instead of singing. I feel embarrassed. The entire band basically feels the same way.

We pack up and the frat basically never wants anything to do with us again.

After the frat debacle I go to a party at my old high school girlfriends house. I have long hair and long sideburns. I think I look cool. The ex girlfriend is single. Her friends think I look cool too. I go for a walk with this girl around the block. We talk. I'm pretty drunk but apparently coherent enough to initiate a make out session. This is like four years after we broke up. This was what I had wanted for four years! It was one of those moments that I couldn't believe was happening. It was surreal in the way that it wasn't as good as I would have imagined it to be but it was everything that I thought about everyday for years coming true. It was almost as if I was out of my body watching myself make out with this girl in San Francisco.

I left and she invited me to come over the next night for another party.

Innocent Addicts was my alter ego band. I loved this band name. Albert P was one of my best friends in high school and probably the funniest person I knew. He was in town and I knew we had to get IA a gig to redeem myself for the Stranger fiasco at the berkeley frat.

One problem, we didn't have a drummer, a bass player or a gig. I knew we could get around that. Evan, the lead singer of Stranger, was not only a drummer but a big fan of IA.

Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the story. (Lesley just walked in)

Pancakes?

There's a new restaraunt opening up right belopw my house. It's been under comstruction for over six months. The name is something like "Pancake Stacks".

Is that really what the world needs right now? More pancakes.

We are a fat country. In every way. Our bodies are fat and our appetite for crap is fat.

The world doesn't need more pancakes.

I'll probably get some when the store opens.

I miss my family

Little Rock airport. An hour before the flight. Laptop is out and plugged in. Phone is plugged into the laptop. I don't want to write.

I'm a wanderer. I'm wondering the Earth aimlessly. I'm an outcast. I don't fit the mold.

I miss my family. I did video chat a few times with the kids. Indy said he misses me and Stone said I look stupid. Lesley called me up last night about to loose it with Indy. He wanted to make a costume and Lesley didn't have any ideas on how to make one. Indy needed it now and was throwing a temper tantrum. I got him on the speaker phone and said I had a cool idea for a costume. I told him to make a rad costume out of tin foil. He stopped crying and said, "OK."

Lesley emailed me some cool pictures of Indy in his tin foil future suit. I got teary eyed.

I miss my wife.

I'm a fuck up.

I'm supposed to have bought gifts for everyone from my trip but I didn't. There was some cheap jewelry in the Little Rock airport that I was going to get for my wife but I couldn't commit to anything. I have a layover in Dallas, maybe they will have something good.

So much that you are expected to do in this life. Be a good Dad, be a good husband, eat right, excises, meditate, write, create, make money, make something of yourself, organize, and be a friend. I don't know if I can do it.

I don't want to litter. I don't want to help people litter. I don't want to be a part of the problem. I don't want to help to numb our population. I want to be part of the solution.

(The national security level is orange)

Anyone can complain. You want to complain? Fuck you! Be a part of the answer. What's the answer?

I don't know.

Be a good Dad.

Be true to your heart. Do what your intuition tells you.

Forgive.

Be accepting.

Politics, wars, corruption, corporations taking over and all the rest of the bullshit. What can one man do. Get your shit together. Get off your ass. But start small.

Treat your family right.

I miss my family.

I love my family.

I love my boys.

I love my beautiful wife.

Church

I'm in my hotel in Springdale Arkansas, day 6. I have that lonely feeling accompanied with light anxiety, covered with the usual, "What are you doing with your life?" feeling.

I'm behind schedule once again. Behind on what I'm not so sure.

I believe in the Spirit of the Universe. I believe in the laws of nature. I believe in realities beyond the one I'm seeing. I believe if you do certain things then certain things happen. I believe in stuff I can't explain. I believe I sound crazy.

I believe in the search. I believe in the search for God. The people who are searching for God are the one's who are cool. The people searching for the answers are the one's I want to hang with. The people who have found the answers (or accepted their parents spoon fed message without question) are the one's that frighten me.

This religious shit can fuck you up. It took me years to un-brainwash myself and I'm still plenty brain washed.

I've lived with a strange sense that I've been sleeping for most of my life. I've seen myself go through the motions but I'm not really alive. I think spirituality could mean being alive. Being awake. This is why I find it so important to follow your passion and do what your heart tells you to do, because that is when you feel alive.

I'm still searching for what I'm good at.

What are my assets? (This is all stream of conscious writing so fuck you if you think it's incoherent!)

OK...what was I saying? Oh yeah, what are my assets?

I'm good at speaking in front of people. (But only if I have something to say)

I seem to be good at getting people together (But only if I have something good to say)

I can be funny in front of people

I can obsess on something (This could be good or bad)

I'm a good leader

I can write songs

I can talk to people from all walks of life's (From artists to suits)

What to do with these talents?

1. Ignore your talents, push them deep inside of you, and try to focus on the teachings of the church.

or

2. Half ignore and half acknowledge your spiritual emptiness and live your life behind schedule while sleeping it away

or

3. Shake yourself awake at every corner and decide to become the searcher today.

OK I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about but it kind of makes sense to me and that's who I'm writing for write now.

Wake up and search. Search for the deeper truth. Who knows maybe a vocation of some type will make itself available to me while I'm searching.

When does it stop being overwhelming?

Each morning I jot down some thoughts first thing. I try to write some joke ideas, ideas for youtube videos, for an episode in my fantasy TV show, a scene for my movie script, and I'll write something to blog about. I never give it a second thought, I just write it down and move on.

This morning for my blog idea I wrote down: Kids are overwhelming. As I began to write this I started thinking about life and how I was overwhelmed for most of mine. It didn't start with kids, although kids definitely give you a new perspective on the meaning of overwhelmed.

I was a latch key kid. I didn't have any adult supervision when I was young and when I think about it I'm pretty glad I didn't. I think having adults around when you are young is extremely important but in my case the kind of adults that would have shaped my perspective, had they been around, did me far more good by not being there. The little influence that I did get from them fucked me up enough.

No one cared if I did homework when I was a kid. I might have been made to feel bad about myself for a few days after the report cards came out but other than that there was no day to day logistical concern of how I was applying myself in school. I had no organization or priority control whatsoever. If I was given a book report due in 3 months I would wait until the last minute and take two straight days to read the book and then stay up all night the night before the due date writing the report.

If there was homework due I showed up empty handed. The teacher yelled at me and I felt bad but the motivation never came. I was overwhelmed.

I was always overwhelmed with school work all the way through college. I was also overwhelmed with my mothers expectations of me. Nothing was good enough, I was too dumb, too young, unreliable, all ways the irresponsible child (even in my thirties), and didn't possess good values in her eyes.

Maybe being overwhelmed has to do with perspective.

When you are young you find ways to cope with growing up and your situation and you eventually come up with a way to deal with life.

My way was the "check out". I learned early on how to check out. I checked out mostly through TV. I could watch TV all day long. Morning to night and not take my eyes off of it. If there wasn't TV I checked out into my head. I learned early not to say what you were thinking so I just became quiet. When people I didn't like (certain adults) talked to me I would always tell them to fuck off in my head. They would just go on talking as I would talk to them silently in my head, "I don't care what you're saying right now, I'm not listening. I don't like you"

So I don't know what that has to do with kids being overwhelming except for the fact that I have an escape mechanism when I get stressed out. Now that I have kids I want to be present for them. When I'm trying to check out and they are trying to get my attention is when the strain enters the situation. I can't get them to do what I want.

Recently my house and life were a mess. The kids room was out of control. I told the kids that we need to find all the best toys and get rid of the ones we don't like. When we are left with the best toys we need to find a place for each toy. A permanent home for each item. We did just that and we took out my label maker and put a label with the toys name right in the place the toy was supposed to go. The kids now know where their toys go. Life for them is organized and structured.

We know what we are supposed to be doing. They feel secure and I feel calmer.

Organize and be less overwhelmed.

The End

More of nothing

No need to read this! Unless you love Duke.



I'm writing to write today. My brain is stuck. My life is stuck. How do I get it unstuck? The million dollar question.



I've done 90 days to a beach body a couple different times in my life. I had turned thirty and I was depressed. I was a nobody. I had such high hopes for myself and I felt that I had slept my life away for many of the previous years. So many years wasted on the couch in front of the TV. I was thirty with nothing to show for it. My dreams all failed and I was crushed. I saw two infomercials, Tony Robbins and the P90X.



I ordered both.



The P90x made my body more sore than I had ever been in my life. I was completely out of shape. But when I start something I will finish it, many times something that shouldn't be finished. Luckily this start something till you finish it quality I possess was working for me in this area of my life. After week one I wanted to quit, week two I wanted to quit, week 3 and 4 was the same thing. I kept doing it even though my brain was giving me every plausible excuse in the book not to. Even when I thought it was doing nothing I did it. After the first month I began to see some results. I had a little more motivation.



Still my mind would mind fuck me and try to get me to quit. I ignored my mind and went through with it. Eventually it began to feel good. Eventually I was getting great results and I was feeling stronger than I ever had before.



I guess what I'm trying to do is paint an analogy for myself that will encourage me to keep writing because my brain is beating myself up right now. I'm hearing self talk about how I'm not that good of a writer and that I'm not that good at anything.



Fuck you voice. Fuck you, and damn you to hell!



I love these theories that I keep in my brain that I haven't experienced yet but somehow believe to be true. The theory here being: If you are a half way decent writer and you just commit yourself to writing everyday then magic will happen. If you write every day then inspiration will kick in. You don't have to worry about writing great things you just need to focus on writing. Just write and don't worry about the results. Let writing be the pleasure.



I actually am feeling better right now. The act of writing is making me feel better. I want to do things that truly make me feel good. Not the kind of fleeting good feeling that comes from instant gratification but the good feeling that sticks with you. I want the feeling that comes after three months of hard work and you are now in great physical shape. Or the healthy feeling you get after eating well.



Or maybe the good feeling you get after writing.



Let writing be the goal. Let writing be the obsession. Let writing be the fix.

feel good

I just want to feel good. That's all I've ever wanted. I just want to feel OK. How can someone who wants to feel good feel so bad?

Worry, anxiety, fear, negative self talk, shame spirals, deep depression, loneliness in a crowd, and a million other things that sum up the bad feeling inside of me.

When you do something that's right then somehow the world seems right. I've experienced glimpses of this. I've tried to bottle this feeling and save it for later but the feeling is fleeting.

I used to think that if I just went to church and cleaned up my act then I would have nothing but smooth sailing. Doesn't work for me. What people tell me I should do doesn't work for me. Never has. I want to be great. That's part of the problem I guess. I can't just be a worker among workers. I have to stand out. I've been made to feel wrong for it.

That's me. I'm different. There's something a little different about me. I guess that's what everyone says about themselves. I've spent years trying to tell myself that I'm not different but I can't shake the feeling. Trying to fit a circle into a square peg is the perfect analogy for me. I don't fit. Where the fuck is the circle?

This is the question. Find the circle and find the secret to feel good.

I don't want to write

I have all the time in the world right now and the last thing I want to do is write. I want to surf the Internet for hours accomplishing nothing. I want to jack off. I want to fucking get out of my body! I want some fucking escape!!!

I'm in Arkansas in the middle of nowhere. Sitting in my hotel room with nothing to do. Work was canceled.

Great! I'll work on my screenplay, which I haven't started. No.

Huge panic attack hits me. What the fuck body? I'm alone in a safe neighborhood in a safe room. (It's a pretty nice Holiday inn actually) What the fuck is up with my body? I get depressed when I get a panic attack. Isn't that weird? Getting depressed when your anxiety kicks in.

Panic attacks make you're body believe it is in a life or death situation. Your body thinks you are about to die!! At any second!!

I don't know about you but I don't like my body telling me we are about to die.

When I was young, age 15, I first started getting these attacks. I had attacks at three different periods when I was 15 and I can't remember which one was the first but I think it was this one.

I had a best friend that lived three houses up from me named Jason. We used to hang out every day from 1st grade till 6th grade. We stopped hanging out as much when I started smoking pot and he didn't. We would still hang a little after junior high but it was becoming less and less. (I'm not sure how this is pertinent to the story but fuck you) Another unimportant thing that I'm remembering right now is when we were in maybe 3rd grade I remember noticing that it was me that called him everyday. He never called me. I remember asking him why he never called me and I don't think he really gave me an answer. (once again, doesn't really matter to the story but fuck you anyways)

When I was 15 I heard that if you hyperventilate while moving your body very quickly up and down and then have your friend choke you, you can pass out. So one day we were doing the "Let's make each other pass out game".

This, by the way, was after I had fallen in love with LSD and after I was arrested for it.

So I thought it would be similar to tripping if we made each other pass out while listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the moon. So I turn on the music, we're in my bedroom, and I start hyperventilating. Jason chokes me and I pass out onto the bed. I come back and I'm feeling a little out of it. I'm trying to get into my body like when you trip on acid. I'm listening to Pink Floyd. I'm thinking this is awesome!

I'm perfectly relaxed and then out of the blue my body is slammed with a rush of adrenaline. My heart starts racing and I'm turning white. I jump out of bed and I see the devil next to the wall. I tell Jason, "I think the devil is trying to enter me."

Keep in mind that I'm fucked up on religion. My Dad died when I was twelve, I'm fucked up from that and I'm obsessed with the fucking devil.

I tell Jason, "I have to tell my Mom." He's begging me not to. I run into her room, she's half asleep and I back down from telling her that the devil is trying to take me over and just spit out something along the lines of, "Uh....I don't feel well." I think she just told me to rest.

I come back in my room and I'm still freaking out. I turn off the music. All of a sudden in my mind the music is evil. The fucking church imprinted the gnarliest fear of evil into the core of my being.

By the way when I was in 9th grade me and my friends were into conjuring up spirits. We used to go around the corner of the lunch hall and play light as a feather, stiff as a board. Supposedly you were getting spirits to help lift someone up and you could lift them with your finger. I remember tripping out as a 15 yr old when we would lift up one of our bigger friends with our fingers and it just felt easy.

Then somehow, and I don't know how I'm remembering this because I haven't ever really gave it much thought, we got a hold of some which craft spells or Satan spells or something that was supposed to allow us to connect with the dark side so we could get stuff that we wanted.

One day a friend of mine took me aside and told me to stop messing with that stuff. We were at a catholic school and we were young so I guess most of us just accepted that there were spirits or demons or basically weird shit out there. My friend said, "If you get too close to the dog he might bite you."

So here I am, after making myself faint and getting attacked by Satan, thinking of my friends words, "The dog might bite."

Fuck, he's biting me!

I went on vacation with two friends to Hawaii when I was fifteen. I started having panic attacks and I was sure that I was having acid flashbacks, or the devil was fucking with me. I remember telling my friends about it and we were keeping it a secret from the adults. We were in a skyscraper and I was having panic attacks every time I got in the elevator. It was the beginning of my mind trying to make sense of this and I was trying to avoid whatever was causing these attacks. I began to build up a fear of elevators. Then I started attacks while surfing. I developed a fear of the ocean.

They lasted for maybe 4 days and eventually went away.

I went to church youth camp and they kicked in again. I thought for sure the devil was fucking with me. I remember having them during the tug of war game, during the canoeing, and during the group picture. I had myself documented during a panic attack. I told my self that I wasn't having them whenever I was in the church and I sort of made that my place where I felt comfortable. I went to accept Jesus in my heart because I wanted these fucking acid flashbacks/devil getting me episodes to stop. They lasted the whole week.

Panic attacks were gone for a year. I forgot about them.

I ran for class president the following year and the activities director rigged the elections. My school revolted and a re vote was demanded. I won but the school faculty hated me. This is an entire ten blog story for another time.

At the same time I went to another church retreat in the mountains skiing.

When I was 16 I had been masturbating already for 5 years. I did it all the time but I never spoke of it and neither did anyone I knew. People were ridiculed for it at that age, that was something you would be made fun of for life if anyone found out. One of the friends at church camp got us all to admit we jacked off and we just talked about masturbation for the entire weekend. I remember how relieving it was to find out everyone did it.

When I masturbated (I know this is too much information) I would be able to start and finish in like 20 seconds. I could do it fast.

So I remember my friend telling me that he would masturbate for like 20 minutes. I couldn't believe it but when I got home I tried it. Maybe ten minutes in I started having a panic attack. I quit masturbation of a year.

That's how gnarly panic attacks were and are for me. I quit masturbation for a year!

So now I'm 37, I'm in a hotel in Arkansas, and I'm having panic attacks. When I was younger and had attacks I would lock myself in my room for a week, but after a week they were gone. When I got in a relationship with Les I had them for three months straight. When I started a talk show I had them for 6 months straight and on and off for over 2 years.

So when I get one now I can't think to myself, "Don't worry this will be over in a week." And that's why I get depressed. I don't know if the next week or the next year is going to be ruined.

On the bright side, when they get bad enough I seem to get motivation to do whatever I know I should be doing in life. Maybe focusing on spirituality, maybe exercise, or just getting out of my procrastinating ways that hold me back from being creative.

This blog is my new creative outlet as is my comedy. I'm also taking up a home yoga practice.

OK enough of the ramble, my work here today is done.

Blank head

I'm not sure what this blog says, no need to read. I did it on my iPhone on an airplane so warning: grammer errors ahead.

A blank mind

My mind is blank on topics at the moment.

Ok, what is good about a blank mind?

First off there is two types of blank minds. The first is the mind that went blank because the computer overloaded, crashed, and everything went blank.

My mind has experienced mostly overloads my entire life. The mind just turns numb.

This kind of a blank mind is bad.

A good blank mind is when you have all the neccasary data on external harddrives.  The ram is empty.  The mind is sharp.

There is no need to have the same thought twice, unless you enjoy having that thought.

We are all stressed out these days.  The amount of information is incredible.  We can't possibly take it all in, process it apropriately, and then function at a high level with out incorporating some type of system to help us navagate our way through this mess.

Despite what some women say, you really can't do more than one thing at once and perform it at a high level.  Our brains need to focus.  When you get to the point where your mind can be blank an you can focus on the task at hand then you can operate at the pro level.

Empty your mind.

Empty it on paper.  Catagorize it. Figure out what the next step is.  Put the next yep into a list of next steps for all your junk.  Do the best next step.

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

G.O.D. - Good Orderly Direction.

Your subconscious knows if you are fucking up.  You planned on doing something but haven't done it.  Your sub consciousness knows.  It beats you up.  You feel bad.  You get cancer.  You die.

For me I need to have the clutter gone. I want every physical thing in my life to have a place.  Everything goes somewhere.  If you don't know where something goes then it goes anywhere. When things go anywhere they build up.  They turn into clutter.  When clutter builds up our minds get over loaded and the creativity stops.  It all stops.  We cut ourselves off from cool shit happening.  From feeling good.  From having fun.

When we get like this we wanto ignore it because it feel insurmountable.  Let's turn everything off.  Let's run.

Turn on the TV.  I need to masturbate. Give me food.

I threw it all out.  I organized.  My home is in order.

I clean out a closet and I seem to get more energy.  It kind of like working out.  I don't have energy for it until I do it.

Start small.  Underwhelm yourself.  Take a small action and build momentum.

This blog is a little self helpy and preachy.  Who cares. I'm feeling good.  I feel like I'm heading in the right direction and that's good.

Do you believe in God?

I used to spend all my time asking the questions that are unanswerable. What happens when you die? Is there a God? Is the church fucked up? Or are they right? If my church is right are all the other churches wrong? Who is God? Who am I? What am I doing here? I don't get it. Nothing makes sense. Who made God? How did we come from nothing? I feel like my brain is exploding.

These were my thoughts all day, every day from about age 12 to age 22. My formative years.

I was fucked up. The sermon I remember most from Church was the one about hell. The pastor said, "I hear a lot of people say I want to go to hell because that's where all my friends are going and we'll just have a party. These people are sadly mistaken. In hell you will be isolated. You will not be able to see because your eyes will be welded shut. You can't move because your wrists will be welded to your ankles. You will burn for eternity.."

So much for the party idea. Don't you hate it when someone smashes a perfectly good idea of hell?

As a kid this stuff fucks with you. Satan was real. I was scared. This shit was imprinted into me all the way to the core.

I did a blog a little bit back about how I hate it when people are full of shit about something. I can not stand it when someone takes something that they don't know the truth about and starts spewing words as if they are an expert. I explained that I always seem to remember their words and then at the moment I learn the truth, and the contradiction, of what they were saying I put it in their face. I guess I love letting people know they are wrong.

Religion, the afterlife, and everything that goes with those two words is the ultimate playground for the bullshit artist. This is probably where I began to develop my bullshit radar. Maybe the church people are the ones that first pushed my buttons and maybe it's them that I'm really calling bullshit on every time I prove someone wrong.

The thing I hate about bullshit artists is that I can never prove them wrong in the moment. What a better place for someone full of shit to dwell than in the world of the after life.

How many people do you know that are dead?

None, because they're fucking dead, and when people die they tend to stop speaking.

My problem is with people who say they know, when they don't. Religious people claim they know, it's heaven or hell. Atheist people claim that they know, nothing happens when you die.

The point here is fuck you! You don't know. I don't care if you are atheist or religious, you both just suffer from wanting to be right. When people want to be right then they need others to be wrong.

I believe in God. God is a fucked up word. Too many people for thousands of years have used that word with the certainty of fact. These same people never came close to experiencing even a glimpse of the sacred. You don't know. Why can't we just all come together and agree on this one point? No one knows. This is the only truth, we don't know the truth and we never will until we fucking die, or not even then. We definitely will never know while we breath here on this dust ball.

There's a big movement to be atheist. I feel it coming down the pike in the years to come. More and more people are coming out. I feel it's the pendulum swinging the other way and I guess that sometimes when we need to change we need to swing the pendulum all the way to opposite end of the spectrum. But I feel it's obvious that we need to come to a meeting point which is in the middle and I believe the middle is "We don't fucking know."

When you are in a place where you don't know, you leave yourself open to learn. When you know there is no room for growth, only room to let other people know they are doing it wrong.

It doesn't matter what you believe as long as what you believe doesn't matter.

Don't fucking push shit on me and I won't push shit on you.

That being said I will state that atheist are probably right. But they are a miserable group of people. Just as preachy as the other guys. I am glad they are there to tell the religions that they are a fairy-tail story and ridiculous. But I don't want to be the grumpy old man in the coffee shop talking about how God doesn't exist, it's not fun to me.

I want to be happy, I want to enjoy myself, and I want to have fun. Atheism is not fun. Religion is not fun. They're both fucking right and people that are right have a fucking stick up their ass.

Both of you, get away from me!

I believe there are some strengths in religion, different religions might even have different strengths. Atheist might even have something to offer. Can I just take the strengths from all the religions and leave the rest?

I want to be like Bruce Lee. Bruce Lee said, "I will fight anyone and kick their ass in less than a minute." (This is a paraphrase from something I heard second hand, but stay with it because it works.) Bruce Lee studied all forms of marshal arts. He knew all the strengths so he could fight anyone.

I want to spiritually kick anyones ass. I want the strengths.

There's too much to say and I am going to revisit this.

I believe in laws of the universe. I don't understand the universe but I think there is a system in place. Read the Tao Te Ching. This guy points out certain universal laws, obey the laws and reap the rewards.

I guess I believe in a universal spirit. I don't understand it, but I like to think it's there. If I want to play by the rules I do believe I can reap rewards.

More on this later.

Midnight ramblings (again)

It's happened before and it'll happen again. Late night mutha f'er!!

Don't read this!

Welcome to hell. Straight from the depths of hell.

Old creepy guy was looking at the girls underwear in the dryer at the dry cleaners. I read that text at my show.

I opened the night off while the guy running the show stressed out on the PA system. I was told to be there at 7:15 and when I arrived I was told that the show would begin at almost 9:30.

I did get to write jokes while waiting.

I'm learning. I see light but its probably a mirage. Just when you think you know something you get slammed with a little taste of reality.

I think I did good for a group of people not listening.

Listen hard.

I felt the flow tonight. I was waiting for a long time and I started to write. I was writing tags to premises and the words were flowing. I believe I am arriving to the door. You know what door I'm talking about. The door of inspiration.

There's a J Crew looking model who is just eyeing me through the peep hole of the door. She can't wait to start feeding me material. I felt it seeping through the cracks. I feel it coming. Sleep is urgent but my writing is important.

Yoga, meditate, write and sleep.

goodnight

Public Humiliation

If you are going to do stand up comedy get ready for public humiliation.

Two important things about life: It's not fair and you're not going to get what you want.

Understand this truth and you may pass the test young grasshopper.

A comedy contest? What the fuck am I thinking?

10 contestants. Four winners and 6 people humiliated.

Sound like fun? Get used to it.

The professional focuses on his craft. You can't get emotionally attached to the daily swinging results. The pendulum of my ego so quickly moves from one extreme to the next. So much so that I'm surprised I don't get sea sick. One minute I'm the greatest new comedian in the world and in the next everyone in the world wishes I was dead.

I can't be so attached to the results but I guess what I'm looking for is validation. I just want mommy to say that she supports me.

You can't get water from a stone. And you can't win contests with Christian judges while doing christian bashing material. (Just some life tips)

It's late, I've been sleeping 4 or 5 hours a night and it's catching up to me. I just want to live in the place where music is free. The best kind of music, the kind that no one has ever heard but they all want to hear. I want to live in a place where I take dictation from the Gods.

I'm sick of my bullshit. I want to make lightening with my fingers. I want to be a channel for some God fucking lightening.

I want some angels.

Stay in the craft. Write. Observe. Wake up. Look around you, the signs are there.

Again, wake up!

The signs are in front of you. Keep writing, keep making money. More is on the way. This is the Gods talking.

Ramblings from an angry madman. I can see wisdom when I touch it. I can tough it when I'm immersed in my work.

I'm half sleeping right now, while drinking "calm" tea.

People will show you. Circumstances with show you. The angels will lead you.

Go to bed and dream. Dream the dream of little truths that build into one. The most complicated ideas can be made simple with longs thoughts into one short sentence.

Call on no one else. Look no further. Funny is something within. It's coming to the surface, the wisdom.

Just fell asleep a little.

Fuck the typos let's roll this puppy out. And then let's buy a puppy with a horse and a pool.

Falling more. Must sleep.

This blog means nothing

In the Bedroom part II

OK part two is off the cuff. I'm in my car typing while I'm parked. I'm also spying on someone for work, as someone spies on me.

I told you my secret, something inside of me blames Lesley for the show not working.

I have worked for myself for most of my work life. I'm not good with autority figures, never have been. I had a company that grew to 24 employees and then failed. I took a miserable job, in a miserable office doing debt consolidation. I was depressed.

My beautiful wife was the one who said,"You need to start your own thing."

I heard these words and they rang true. I started a talk show. Very naive yes, sometimes naïveté works for you. Not knowing the odds or the highly probable pitfalls keeps you in enough denial to go for something that is really crazy.

My wife had a job at the time that was making her 6k a month. At the time our monthly nut was probably 8k or 9k. Sounds crazy, what the fuck were we spending each month? I can't even imagine it now.

I'm good at inspiring people. I tell myself that I'm going to give this talk show three months. I'm heavily deluded into seeing succsess right around the corner.

Lesley is getting bummed because I'm not making it work quick enough. I begin to hear comments in passing that basically state that she would have been a succsess by now if it were her who started the business. Meanwhile, I feel that things are going well for me. There's a buzz. There's somethig magical going on. At the same time I'm very stressed.

I've started this new entity that was taking on a life of it's own but it was also taking me over. I was becoming stressed out beyond my capacity to do a good job. The editing, the planing, the booking, the organizing, the promoting, the growing, and every other new obstacle that was hitting me from every direction.

This on top of having two crazy little kids. We had a babysitter to help.

I'm all about following your dream. This is my mission. In my head I'm thinking about getting to this place where I become successful and then deliver speeches of how to go from nothing to something great.

Lesley is having problems at her work. Her job is selling yoga and she is teaching also. She has worked her commission deal so well that she was earning way more money than the regular yoga teacher. She's an incredible sales person.

The problem is Lesley's work. The people in the pay roll department are seeing these big checks that they are writing to Lesley. They get upset. How is a yoga teacher earning double what they are making? They complain. The company starts to give Lesley a hard time. They don't want her to teach yoga anymore during hours when they believe she should be selling.

She's fucking selling already! Anyone selling "yoga teachers" should be a "yoga teacher" you stupid yoga fucks!! She's making a lot of money because she's bringing you business so fucking leave her alone!

Lesley has a sales partner. The company wants to get rid of the partner. Lesley is loyal, plus she sees the company turning corporate. Any company that turns corporate goes from being cool and relaxed to being uptight, micromanaging, and basically turns everyone into back stabbing pricks. Lesley's been through that before and sees the writing on the wall.

The company isn't even that focused on what she is doing, they just want to be the 24 hour fitness of yoga. My wife sells yoga to people at work. They don't care about what she does.

My wife sees that I have given the finger to the man. This is inspiring to her. She says to herself (this is me speculating her thought process) "I don't need to be in this job that's trying to hold me back. I can do what Duke did and start my own thing, but unlike Duke I will quickly become a success."

She asks me, "Is it OK if I quit my job and start my own company?" But she says it in a way that really means, "I'm quitting my job and you better say yes because you are 'Mr. Follow your dreams' and if you say no then that means that you don't support me."

What the fuck am I supposed to say? I'm at critical mass here with my show. Great things are happening, I have something cool. I'm trying to be delicate with it so I can keep it that way. I'm juggling too many plates. We need Lesley's income at this crucial juncture. Looking back I should have said no, but we were in a bad place at the time. I added stress to the family but this decision for her to quit her job was really pulling the roof down over our heads.

I said , "Yes, I support you." But I didn't want to. Not because I didn't support her but because it was a terrible decision. It wasn't rational. I'm already being incredibly irrational so I felt that I had to let her be irrational too.

So eventually I become the bad guy for quitting my job? What about Lesley quitting a job with awesome income? Fucking bullshit!

OK, hindsight is 20/20. But I knew at the time it was not a good idea.

She quits. She starts a business.

Starting your own business with no base salary is stressful and has many more obstacles than anyone can foresee. She begins to see them. We are loosing money at an incredible rate.

Like I said, it soon becomes my fault, for quitting my job to "follow my dream." That is all that anyone seems to remember.

We are now both earning nothing. Credit cards are becoming maxxed out. We no longer can afford a baby sitter. I am with the kids all day. I have no time or energy to edit the shows anymore while caring for the kids all day. The magic begins to seep out of my fantasy, as if a bad decision pricked a small hole, and chemistry slowly began to leak from my balloon of a dream.

I become way behind on the editing of the shows. The magic of the first wave of shows carries us through the first six shows at the veteran's hall but my inability to focus and keep the train on track begins to catch up with us. Very slowly things begin to unravel, but it takes two years until the wheels fall off.

So I blame Lesley for pressuring me to let her quit her job and start a company when I was at a critical point in mine. She didn't see how much energy and time needed to go into this thing. She would give me shit for not editing her parts of the show quick enough, but never offered the time to help me do it. I felt she didn't give me the support that I needed.

On some level she didn't want me to blame her. Just like she didn't want me to blame her for the dream of being in a band getting smashed. But she didn't want me to succeed on some level. OK maybe that's harsh, but she didn't believe I could do it and because she didn't have the vision she didn't give me the support. She didn't try to contribute or get involved further than doing what I asked of her as a cast member. And she would always do that complaining.

I really thought I would write this article and it would become clear to me that I shouldn't blame her. But right now all of my secret thoughts and reasons seem to be backing up that thought.

Maybe I'm right, that she was the one that brought the momentum of the show to a halt. Maybe she didn't believe in me and secretly wanted me to quit from the beginning. Or maybe she is more comfortable seeing me fail so she can continue being a victim. Maybe she likes to point out that I'm wrong. I'm not saying that this is conscious.

Let's say all that is true. I still believe there is no place for blame. (After re-reading this I understand that what I was attempting to do was impossible, so it's hard to fault anyone for not believing you can accomplish the impossible. Maybe impossible goals should be kept to yourself.)

This is my new discovery. When you begin to blame anyone for anything, all it means is that you need to become aware and you need to look at the signs. (this is a Duke original)

It was this time that I was learning how to generate hits on youtube. I knew that the people who were successful were edited, short, clean videos. 98% of the successful videos on youtube were coming from just one person. Much of my stress was coming from organizing everyone together and at the same time getting the cameras in sync with everything. It was too much and I knew no one who was successful at doing such a thing. I could have focused on comedy, working on my act. I could have started making short, edited videos on my own.

A rich guy told me at the time that I needed to develop as a comic. He said he would help me. I didn't listen and became offended.

Maybe sometimes you need to listen to what offends you.

The blame only got worse. Not only did I blame my wife but I was blaming everyone around me. The signs were there. The sign is blame. When blame first enters your inner self it's not a bad thing, at least this is my opinion at the moment. The second blame reaches you is the second the universe is telling you to look around for the signs. What are your assets and liabilities and compare these to the signs. The universe is saying that it's time to make a change.

My wife is beautiful. She's a beautifully flawed human being. Just like me. I love her for all that she is. It doesn't matter what issues my wife is going through, the hard decisions are mine and mine only. When I say the hard decisions I mean the decisions of the soul. The decisions of your character. What is your truth? What is it that you were called to do? Doing it is turning from evil. Resistance from doing what you were meant to do is the real devil. That is true evil. Is it eating? Exercise? Meditation? Following your dream? Following the signs?

You know what you have to do, but no one but yourself can ever do it. Not following your gut gives you no one to blame.

When blame comes it's time to make a change. Change is very scary. Some people are so scared of change that they are willing to fail. Others are so afraid of failure that they are willing to change.

Midnight ramblings

I wanted to talk about how I blame my wife for everything and then come to the conclusion that blaming people for stuff is stupid. And then I was going to have a revelation that whenever you catch yourself blaming someone for something, it's really just the universe telling you that there is a different door for you to walk through. This door is closed for you, so walk through the other one dumb shit.

Now I will do yoga and then go to sleep for a couple hours. I placed second in the preliminary round of laugh down tonight and someone invited me to perform this sunday. Plus some of my new material hit tonight.

Ok, now it's yoga then sleep.

In the bedroom

Have you ever blamed someone for something that went wrong in your life? I tried a stupid hacky joke last night that went, "Stop blaming your friends for your life turning out bad, grow up and be a man, blame your parents." It received a marginal laugh. I'm scratching it.

I have these certain thoughts that I don't express sometimes involving blaming other people. I think when you have these thoughts deep down in the darkness of your psyche they can feel so real. Not expressing them, at least in an honest way, makes them a big deal. This is a little bit of "airing my dirty laundry", but one, no one reads this, and two, discussing something you've never verbalized is dirty laundry that is in need of cleaning. So I'm just going to blurt it out.

I blame my wife for my talk show not working!

OK I already feel like a jerk for even saying that. That's why I keep shit to myself. Now I'm going to attempt to explore why I blame my wife and then at the end I will determine wether or not this thought holds any weight.

My wife is happy when we are making money. That's kind of a general statement, who isn't happy when they're making money? At least in some sense. The fact is my wife has a very high earning potential, at least she did. We met when we were young, she's three years older than me, she graduated high school 4 years before me, and she basically had a head start on me.

Be fore I met my wife, I was dealing with how to clean my room, feed myself and shower everyday right before we met. I was becoming interested in spiritual stuff. I was reading spiritual books and surfing everyday. I'm an all or nothing person. I surfed everyday in San Francisco for over 100 days straight. If I'm going to do something I do it all the way.

I'm a loner by nature. Only child. I can deal with time alone, although I admit I spent a lot of my time focused on loneliness and thinking about how I would be alone forever. The girl of my dreams wanted nothing to do with me yet I still held on to the dream of soul mates for an extra five years after we broke up. Secretly. Except for an expression of feelings through song. Sounds creepy, but I kept all the creepiness in my head.

Through the spiritual journey I had embarked on I was become more aware of myself. I became aware that I had to stop dating someone who wasn't dating me. I wrote her a letter. I told that girl that I couldn't be friends with her. I was in love with her. My heart would beat every time she walked in the room. I couldn't go on pretending that we were friends. I wanted her to be with me.

I had basically pretended to be her friend while secretly in love with her for 5 years. This letter I wrote ended the charade. I remember feeling so fucked up as I wrote it. Driving to the mailbox was fucking huge! I took a picture of me in front of that mailbox that I still have to this day. Putting that letter in that box was the equivalent of Laird Hamilton dropping in on a 40 foot wave. That's what it felt like to me. It felt like jumping out of a helicopter with no parachute.

She wanted to see me. What would she say? Would she go for it? I was fucked up, but I had got this secret out of my head and was doing something about it.

Long story short. She had a boyfriend. It wasn't me. We were never going to be together.

The lesson I learned here was huge, it's hard to find a girlfriend when you're going out with a girl that's not going out with you.

Put in a different way: Nature abhors a vacuum.

What does that mean?

Nature likes to fill up space. If you have open space in your life then nature will take something and put it there. If you have stuff in that space then nature will pass you by.

I had a girl in that space. Nature couldn't give me a girlfriend because I already had one. So, as I just said, I wrote the letter. She said, "no." Something in my psyche changed and I had broken up with the girl not going out with me. I was a free man. The space in my heart for a girlfriend was no longer taken up by that fantasy girl. It was vacant. When it's vacant nature can begin to work.

Here's a long story short. My wife came into my life. We spent every minute together. We moved in together. We got married, we had kids.

Remember how I loved to surf? That lasted for about a second with my wife. I think she came to Santa Cruz with my friend JP and I once for a surf session.

Small tangent. JP was the first friend I made in San Francisco. I was 22 and he was 18 so I felt like I was decades older than him but for some reason we hit it off. I loved hanging out at his parents house in the city because it reminded me of home. And they had a full refrigerator.

JP and I went to a musical that my wife (then girlfriend) was starring in. I had just started dating her. I'll never forget JP leaning over and saying, "Check out that chick, I want to fuck her."

"That's my girlfriend asshole!"

He quickly apologized.

JP and I drifted apart as I became a relationship guy. Years later I heard he died in mexico on a scooter. I didn't make it to the services because I found out late and I didn't rush to get over there. I regret that. I loved him, he had so much spirit. He was young.

OK the tangent is over.

I loved surfing. Every day. I met my girlfriend. The surfing came to an end. I eventually blamed her.

I became a couch potato. We watched TV together. That was our thing. I became numb. At some point I have to take responsibility. It happened to both of us. If you're caught up in that weird rut, with someone else that just wants to become numb, it's on you. I know that now, but I'm just observing the blame my mind wants to put on it.

I always wanted to be in a band. I guess I was always attracted to performing. I couldn't sing. I had drive. My wife could sing. We started a band. I had a never ending drive to become a performer. The unfortunate thing is that my tunnel vision only visualized me accomplishing something if other people did what I wanted them to do. Lesley didn't want to practice. I wanted to force her. She resented me for it. I wanted to put 100% into music. She didn't. I could see greatness in what we had if we put the work in it. She didn't share that vision. It became an unspoken, me walking on eggshells type of thing.

I blamed her for crushing my dreams. She felt my resentment and blame brewing. She said, "I don't want you to have any regrets. If you want to go on tour then do it."

She was basically trying to step out of the way of the blame truck that would inevitably roll her over in the years to come. She wanted to have at least that one piece of ammunition. She wanted to come back at me and say,"I told you to chase your dreams years ago. It's not me that stopped you."

But in my head, there was no chasing the dream without her. She was the missing link to the completion of my dream.

Why didn't I start doing comedy 13 years ago. This is a regret I have now, or at least a voice in my head. I used to speak at meetings back then and people would frequently ask if I was a comedian. When I said no they would say you should be.

Why didn't I listen to the universe? The answer was there. I had no children for years to come. I was in the perfect city to learn how to do comedy. What the fuck! I could have been someone by now. (This is the voice in my head talking.)

So I guess this is a lesson that I'm learning right now as I write. As I blamed my wife for crushing my dreams the universe was directing me towards my dreams. Maybe if I stopped blaming and starting looking around at the signs I could be a happier person.

I feel better already. My new tool (this just in): Stop blaming, and start paying attention to the signs. Follow the signs.

Here's my recreation of history:

I used to blame my wife for not committing to our rock band. I needed her, but she wouldn't come through for me. Because life wasn't working and it felt like I was forcing something that wasn't going to work. I took a step back. I took an inventory of my personal assets and liabilities. I came to realize that if I were to make it in a band I would need someone else's help because I couldn't sing.

I decided that I didn't want to put myself in a position where I would be reliant on anyone else. I began to think about what I was naturally good at. It crossed my mind that I was funny while speaking in front of large groups of people. It also crossed my mind that people were telling me I should be a comedian and I wasn't giving that remark a second thought.

I started to think about comedy. Comedians can say something. They can point out a truth that most people didn't see. I also came to realize that comedians worked on their own. Their success wasn't necessarily dependent on any one person. I started to get excited. It's basically what I was looking for. I wanted to be the lead singer. When you are a comic you are the lead guy. The one everyone is looking at.

I quickly found the nearest open mike and soon was obsessed with comedy. I emerged myself with it. Day and night. I wrote every day. I wrote so much that soon material was just flowing through my pores. I couldn't stop the universal comedy god from whispering in my ear.

I had years of pain as I learned the craft but I was growing. I was learning and I was getting funny. I finally started getting gigs at the comedy club. Real shows! I was becoming respected. I respected myself. I had found something I loved.

The best part of it all is that I thanked my wife everyday for giving me the gift of not pursuing music. I thank my wife every day for giving me the gift of comedy. For allowing me to find a road that would allow me to become successful. I love my wife with all my heart and I encourage her to explore her gifts the same rewarding way that I have.

That's my revisionist history.

--------

I want to do part two tomorrow and do this with the talk show blame. That actually just now worked. I really, while writing this, don't blame her for the band not succeeding.

Until tomorrow, Overandout,

Duke

I'm watching you!

I recently broke my 2 and a half year streak and took a job. It's the perfect job for me, I take pictures of people working to make sure that they're working. A company flies me around the country, puts me up in a hotel room, rents me a car, gives me a camera and says, "Make sure these guys are working."

Sounds like a big brother thing huh? I suppose it is. It's not as bad as it sounds and it's not as "James Bond" as you might imagine. I'm working outside. The workers are all outside. I'm not really sneaking around, the workers know I'm there. Some people with my position are like rent a cops who take their job way too serious. They think they need to be total micromanaging pricks to the people working.

The people I'm watching work, don't have the easiest job. It's 104 degrees out and they're walking from house to house four 10 hours straight. I'm in my car and have A/C. Those rent a cops like to show people who's boss. They want to be the man. They demand respect and the way they demand respect is by belittling people.

Have you ever respected someone more after he made you feel like shit? I can't stand this type of person. The people that think they know everything.

A little tangent. One of my character defects: I can't stand people that are full of shit. People that talk like they know everything about a subject, but you can just smell their bullshit. I hate it when a person starts yapping about something, I know he's completely full of shit, but I can't prove it. I have the memory of an elephant for this shit. I look at them and listen. As I listen I think to myself, "You are so full of shit." But I say nothing. And every word that they say somehow gets saved to the permanent hard drive in my brain.

Now it's a waiting game. Could be a month, a year, five years, it doesn't matter to me but the time will come. There always seems to come a time when the information that I didn't know at that time becomes available to the two of us or time wen the person full of shit has completely forgotten what they were talking about and they start to contradict themselves.

I am the king at this. It's my patience. It's the fact that I don't fight it at the beginning but instead I let them dig their grave by giving me all the ammunition I will ever need to destroy them in the future. And when that day finally arrives I deliver with impeccable timing. I'll say, "But weren't you saying the exact opposite thing the other day?" "Didn't you say with complete conviction something different that one time?"

Basically because I couldn't call them on their shit at the time I wait until I have absolute proof and I say, not in these words, "You are a liar. You are full of shit. I guess you're a complete fraud. Is everything you say completely untrue?"

These people love to bullshit, but they hate to be wrong. They love to put on the facade that "they know everything" and when someone is able to definitely smash that image in a way that is inarguably unmistakable, it just fucks with them in such a way that I apparently can't get enough of it.

I don't know what that says of me, but it probably says that I'm fucked up on an even higher level.

So I don't like to treat people like shit. This is my wrap to the workers and usually they are kind of bummed that I'm there when they first see me. I say, "What's up guys? I'm just here to tell the company that you are doing a great job. I'm going to take some pictures of you guys working and the work you've done so I can report back how great you're doing."

What's so hard about saying that? Phil Jackson says that when coaching he's learned that you need to give 5 compliments for every criticism. If it's all criticism you drive people into the dirt. Let the workers know you're happy with them. Good job. Everyone wants to be appreciated. If something goes wrong let them know, but don't be a dick.

If you are a boss and you're never around and people don't get any feedback on how they're doing, they're going to stop giving a fuck. They're gonna slack. That's why you hire me. But I don't have to be an asshole. If you're motivating people to work let them know you care, that you're working on this too, you're on the same team and then people won't hate you as much. Be present, let people know how they're doing. Let them know you're there and you give a fuck so they don't slack. And then just be cool, don't be a dick. That's how I see things.

So that's what I do. I travel around and take pictures. Then I have the night to myself to do stand up comedy. Right now life is pretty good.