Why I'm Debating Less And Less......

I often find myself drawn into arguments that I've no business investing my time. I don't mean that in the sense that I'm ill prepared. It's the hard truth that my attempts at making sense or using logic typically recieve a cold shoulder. People don't like intelligent discussion. They employ limited intelligence in forming an opinion and then use that lack of support in discussion. The longer they've lived with this self absorbed truth, the more difficult it becomes to have a rational conversation. They end up offended that anyone dare challenge their preconcieved notions about the matter at hand, which is exactly what they are, mere notions. I end up looking like the bad guy, the pretentious, talkative ruin of whatever it is they're attempting to say. It all ends in a mess of heated discourse, each participant more frustrated than before. And I find myself silently infuriated that I got caught up in the wave.


So I've begun to ration my arguments for the subjects I feel are truly, truly important. This election season saw me go to town on a number of issues: my Libertarian political beliefs, my idea that my faith and other peoples private lives didn't need to have any correlation, my distrust of both major candidates, my disgust with organizations like the ACLU and PETA, the fact that gay marriage doesn't bother me a bit, my annoyance with both the far left and extreme right, the ineptitude of Michelle Bachman, my hatred for the very notion of gun control, and about four hundred other issues.

I had people on both sides of the aisle criticize me for for a number of reasons: How can you be a Libertarian and have Christian values? How could you possibly be okay with gay marriage? Why do you cuss here and there in your blog posts? How can you be fiscally conservative when people are starving? What's wrong with Obama? What's wrong with Romney? What do you mean Sarah Palins not intelligent? You're in your twenties and you don't know a thing. What do you think God thinks about your politics? How is PETA bad? Do you hate animals? What do you mean evolution and faith are connected? (The list goes on) I realized I was spending way too much time defending myself.


Sometimes we spend so much needless time trying make people understand, we don't get to enjoy our individuality. The most surprising discovery I made these last few months was just how ill informed large portions of our population are. When you have politicians who can't explain a five point plan, you know you've got issues. When you've got Christian ministers that don't realize just how different the King James version of the Bible is from the previous translation, you've got some red flags. When atheists give you crap for being sure there's a God and then turn around and say they're sure there isn't, you've got some severe hypocrisy. I got tired of the noise. I retreated into my own mind a bit, where it was quiet. I found out I kind of like having a distinct set of opinions. I rather enjoy not being everyones favorite brand of human. If that's pretentious, sue me. I sleep like a baby at night.

The Good, The Bad...And Me

Recap: It's been a minute since I sat down and blogged about anything. Life, as it tends to do, got in the way of me having the time, energy or semblance of thought to construct another diatribe. I have been living, for the past four months, in Las Vegas. It has been a rewarding, challenging and overall life changing experience thus far. My wife and I live in a comfortable 28 foot 5th wheel. We have settled into a world that is diametrically opposite from the rural southern landscape we were raised on. I feel like we have adapted well, learned the ropes, the lay of the land if you will. We have found something good.

I'd love to write a nice little blog about how things are going. They ARE going quite well. I am enjoying life in a general sense very much. But this blog is not about that. This blog goes in a very different direction today. It's more personal and more vulnerable than I'm used to being. The point in bringing up Las Vegas is that moving from place to place can change your outlook, your sense of humor and even some of your long held social views. But, it can't change the inherent things you have to contend with internally. And I have had some deep rooted issues for some time now that I tend to dismiss or bury under my mostly positive outlook. These issues deal with anger, a sort of subversive angst I have always  carried.

I cannot, for the life of me, tell you where it comes from. I just know that its been a part of me in some way for some time. And it is, among other nasty things, harsh, remorseless and cold. It bites, stings, and it tears down. It has no conscience, no moral compass. It exists to feed off me, the self proclaimed "good guy". The way it starts is something I can't explain because I never do see it coming. It's like a slow burn that finally tapers off and causes mass collateral damage. There's this excellent Nick Drake song where he refers to the beast within himself as "kidding that he's just a teddy bear". I totally relate to that.

I have recently blown up in the face of the simplest things, common happenings, annoying elements in typical conversations. I become jaded to a point of seemingly no return. Then it all goes back to honky dory, to positive vibes and good thoughts. I'm not sure why, after all these years, it has started to become more apparent. I am frankly embarrassed that it has found its way into my social life. Trying to explain to people who think of you as a well mannered, laid back guy why you suddenly burst into a rage is one of the more difficult beers you'll ever talk over.

And the issue is I don't really have an answer. I'm not really angry at anyone or anything. I'm just, from time to time, frustrated in a way that confounds me, that doesn't promote maturity. In fact, its very much a regression if you ask me, a decline in reason. I have a lot to be thankful for, A LOT. Its just I think some of the  ghosts of time passed unknown must be visiting my nervous system. Because at times, I feel like my rib cage is quarantining a riot squad.

I know deep down its all stupid, all part of the male psyche, something I'm sure God  allowed for when I was put together. I'm also quite sure it serves some kind of purpose. I just don't know what that could be. I certainly haven't found a good use for it. Maybe its a side effect of passion and drive, something with a little esoteric depth to it. I don't know. I just know I don't like the loss of mental facility that comes with it, the darkness that imbues the message it conveys. For reasons of sanity, I tell myself  its just human nature. But that's a cop out and I know it.

This isn't one of those clever blogs where I have a solution at the end. It's one where I know there are people who relate, therefore I share. If you're in that camp, why don't we make a promise to ourselves and one another that we will work on these things and try to become better people. If you will, I will! Okay? Deal?

Embody love,
Max

"Do you think you can cope? You figured me out?

That I'm lost and I'm hopeless
I'm bleeding and broken though I've never spoken
I come undone in this mad season"-Matchbox Twenty

Why Intelligence Is Useless....

I think I have come to the conclusion that all this knowledge I have attained, all these facets of growth and learning that I use to guard myself, that like minded pretentious people use to guard themselves, is, as I get older, becoming more and more useless. I think somewhere between digging into books by people I admire and forcing myself to read those by people I despise, I have learned far too much, become so jaded by the naivety of society and of the people that share my convictions and beliefs, that I've given up on any semblance of hope for the world I live in.

If that sounds sad or selfish, I'll be the first to agree. I'd gladly give back what I know to be that stupid, grammatically challenged ten year old from Georgia. He had faith in people. He looked forward to things. The twenty five  year old me has no faith in people and mildly enjoys the prospect of things to come. He stews in his sarcasm, dreads the next caffeine fueled Facebook debate. It's all a cycle, a vicious cycle of my intellect vs your intellect. The issue isn't who's smarter. It's that it doesn't even matter. 

The wisest of men often die the greatest of fools. I never understood that growing up, discovering Flannery O'Conner in high school, openly rejecting Mark Twain in college. I could not comprehend that intelligence had this epic downside, this sort of enveloping darkness to it. You come to a point where there's not someone who's got a last confession about the real world left. You come to a point where adults you once assumed were brilliant become painfully stupid satires of your youthful concept. That's where the depression of reality becomes all too real, where you'd give anything to be ignorant, to be simple. 

Your brain, my brain, is a prison. And all we have to fight it with is love.

The truth is that love is beyond intelligence. It seeks something of us not taught in a school or a television special...or a book. Love gratifies the ignorant and informed alike. None of us are immune to that possible glimmer of hope that it provides. That's why we need it, why we should strive to embody it. Our best minds cannot decipher love as a concept. We, ourselves, are clueless. I think I can live with that if it means there's one thing I can't get enough of, that attacks my darkness with light.

Love is a lot of things, the wife sleeping next to me, the sound of "Master Of Puppets" in shitty headphones, miles of beach, newborn babies, the taste of blood after a good fight, broken people lifted up....and maybe the way cracked neon looks in the darkness of the Nevada desert. Old things can become new. Water can be turned to wine. And for all the distress my knowledge brings me, love, in the form of a good nights sleep, will detoxify today's cold reality so that tomorrows can be less of a drain.

Figure it out, smartass.

The Dark Knight: A Spoiler Free Review

We waited four years for an epic conclusion to Chris Nolans Batman pantheon, four years of curiousity, debate and fanboy speculation. The wait is over. I attended the midnight premiere last night. I was actually supposed to wait until my buddy got back into town to see it....but alas, the pressure became too great. I caved. Sorry sir.

The good news for Dark Knight fans is that this movie, while not as easily digestable as your typical summer blockbuster, has the wonderful effect of meaning more to the viewer as they have time to ponder it. It is a different animal from The Dark Knight, which was a study in both nihilism and perserverance. Rises is more of an exclamation point, a final war for Gotham to face before the caped crusader can finish his work. How that work gets finished and who we say goodbye to will not get spoiled here. I would recommend not reading Wikipedia or the newer reviews. They give away far too much.

Tom Hardy's Bane is a visceral, tactical barbarian, an evil, driven mastermind of remarkable scale. To compare him to Heath Ledgers Joker is not only unfair, its completely beside the point. Where the Joker was all about testing Batmans morality, driving him ever closer to the edge, Bane is something else, a sort of "final boss" at the end of the game, one who's skill as a fighter greatly exceeds Batmans. 

Anne Hathaways Catwoman (we never hear this title used) is a classic femme fa tale, sexy, deceptive and lethal. Miss Hathaway is a revelation here, dodging the camp of Michelle Pheiffers fun but unrealistic portrayal in Batman Returns. She embodies the so called 99%, an angst for Wallstreet her main pet peeve. In a film where bleakness is the norm, she provides the occasional one liner to keep the proceedings on an even keel. 

And more so than ever, this movie is about Batman, about Bruce Waynes endless war within himself. Bruces ongoing dialogue about Batmans relevance and importance is at the forefront. Bale is as exemplary an actor as ever. Whereas he rightfully took a backseat to Ledgers Joker in The Dark Knight, playing the straight man to the late actors wild card,  he's the main focus here, a man torn and beaten from years of service to his city, pondering his destiny and caring less and less about his own mortality. 

His triad of worthy father figures, Alfred, Lucius and Jim Gordon, are, for once, at a loss for words. They, in the face of this films events, finally seem to have run out of  sage wisdom. Jim Gordon, above all, is a shell of his former self. Gary Oldman rings every last nerve ending out of him here. Micheal Caine shows Alfred in a light we've never seen him, completely vulnerable and angst ridden. It's glorious to behold. Freemans Fox is still our favorite intellectual badass, though for once, he looks afraid.

And I was afraid, more times than not during this fim,  that it would veer off course and ruin the trilogy as Coppola did with the final Godfather film. Rest assured, it did not. In fact, the more I've had time to let it sink in, the more the films briliance has manifested itself. It's not an easy movie, not the instant gratification lesser minds may crave. What it is is a thoughtful send off for these much beloved characters. Enjoy.

What I'm Listening To, Reading And Watching

This is my occasional blog where I list what I've been listening to, watching and reading lately. It's my excuse when a gnarly case of writers block ensues. So, in case you're interested, here's the rundown for summer....

Music:

Paul Simon, Graceland- It's such an iconic album. This was a very well produced record. I am in love with the lyrics to "The Boy In The Bubble". Simon was really good at sad words married to joyful noise.

The Beach Boys, That's Why God Made The Radio- A nearly flawless endless summer album. I love that Brian Wilson and Mike Love got their shit together and did something worth its weight in gold.

Slayer, Seasons In The Abyss-Probably my favorite metal album by anyone. It's just really dark and well structured. To this day, it holds up.

The Louvin Brothers, Satan Is Real-This is one of those epic country gospel outings from the late 50's. The harmonies are ridiculous and the production is warm and lived in.

Kid Rock, Born Free-The whole album is a breezy, beer tinged ode to Tom Petty and Bob Seger. It's a great desert drive soundtrack.

Dave Matthews, Stand Up- I just dig this one...not a lot to say.

John Mayer, Born And Raised-Sounds like Neil Young and Joni Mitchell had a love child. This era of Mayer may be his best yet.

Movies:

Thin Red Line- I like Malick. It's a tone poem, the usual 400 shots of nature.

Batman Begins: Nolans first outing with the Bat. Love it as much as I did the first time I saw it.

What's Eating Gilbert Grape: Underrated film for sure. I tell people that everyone should see this movie before they die.

Jonestown: A Documentary-Fascinating, heart breaking and loooong.

Books:

Ernest Hemingway, True At First Light- He's the best of his era, uncomplicated on the surface and yet deep when you let it sink in.

Willie Nelson, Life And Other Dirty Jokes- Nelsons a great storyteller. His jokes are actually really dirty and memorable. I've stolen a few.

Jonathen Franzen, The Corrections- I'm not done yet but its pretty entertaining thus far.

Flannery O'Conner, The River - No one dealt with racisms ugliness better than O'Conner. Her short stories illuminate just how satanic the old South could be. 

An Interview With Max Barber

The following questions come from the Proust Questionnaire, a wonderful little interview that sums people up in a few words. If you want to, copy and answer them yourself.

What is your current state of mind? 

Agitated, excited, pensive and reactionary. I'm a walking contradiction this month.

What is your greatest fear?

Losing my sense of self deprecation. I pride myself on a lack of ego.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

Sometimes I say the wrong thing at the worst time. I have a very healthy sense of dark humor. The problem is that not everyone understands the concept of irony. Sarcasm and dead baby jokes have gotten me in a pickle or two.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?T

Ignorance. I think my biggest pet peeve is people with these big opinions about things they've never taken the time to understand. Whether its religion or politics, it seems all these people have such concrete aversions to everything. 

Which living person do you most admire?

Paul Thomas Anderson restored my faith in the film industry. There Will Be Blood  floored me. It made me want to write, to create. He's really set the bar high, Chris Nolan as well. The Dark Knight was a total departure from typical comic book adaptions. He made Batman dark again.

Which living person do you most despise?

It's a tie between Pat Robertson and Paul Washer, two men who, in their own special way, are killing Christianity's relevance in modern culture. They're heretical to me...and dangerous to the faith I claim as my own.

On what occasion do you lie?

I lie mostly to myself. I say "that will get done tomorrow". It never does.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

My wife. She's the one person I can confide in without any apprehension. She knows me in a very surreal kind of way, almost telekinetic. We've been together for a long time. It's so nice to have someone understand you without you having to say a word. 

When and where were you happiest?

Friday nights as a kid sleeping over at my Granny's house. The routine was frozen pizza, ice cream and a movie from Blockbuster. I'd go back, man...in a second, I'd go back.

Which talent would you most like to have?

There's a part of me that would love to have been a composer. I mean that in the sense of Randy Newman or Warren Zevon. They took their cues from Stravinsky and Gershwin and they did something fresh and smart. There is a cinematic quality to their music.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I worry about stupid things. It's a hereditary thing. I'd love to just enjoy life.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Graduating from college and actually having learned something. I had some of the best English professors in the nation. They challenged me, pushed me to go outside the box as a writer. I miss class, honestly. There's always more to learn.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would it be?

I'll use the Ronnie Van Zant answer. I'd be a bird because there's nothing more free than that.

What is your favorite occupation?

Writing, writing, writing. Give me a Red Bull and three hours. I'll tell you a story.

Who are your favorite writers?

Flannery O'Conner, Ernest Hemingway, CS Lewis, Emma Goldman, Don Miller, Jack Kerouac, Steinback, Cormack MCarthy, Mickey Spillane and Stephen King. 

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

Probably Frank Castle. He's more of an anti-hero, but his conquest is just. I absolutely love The Punisher. I think Frank Castle is the closest we come to reality in the comic book universe. After that, its definetly Bruce Wayne. I'm such a fan boy. Frank Millers Batman is so dark and esoteric. You can really get lost in those stories.

Who are your heroes in real life?

Johnny Cash, Rich Mullins, Theodore Roosevelt. 

What are your favorite names?

Weiland, Hetfield, Scarlet, Ryman....all rejected possible baby names when we have some.

What is your greatest regret?

Not sitting at my Grandmothers bedside when she passed. I really wish I'd manned up and been there. I miss her. I think being there would have left things feeling complete, full circle. It's something I think about quite often.

How would you like to die?

 On the deck of a Pontoon boat in the late afternoon...whilst sleeping, with Ryan Adams Heartbreaker playing in the background. 

What is your motto?

"Think for yourself. Educate yourself. Live for other people"

The Issue Of Hate

I have long been an advocate of loving people without limitations, knowing that even the hardest of hearts has a crack somewhere in its frame. I really have always believed that, the idea that there is good in everyone, that people of every background and culture, whatever its atmospheric dilemma or challenge, has some modicum of love within them. I have pressed that point in conversation, preached it to friends who felt vitriole and angst for others. My solution was the ever popular "love wins out". Despite the events of this previous week, which felt both Godless and harrowing, I still feel that way. But, I will admit, I felt tested, tested like Job in the Bible and tested like the old man in Hemingways The Old Man And The Sea.

I don't like being tested. I never did well with tests in school. The timing, the memorization, it all made the work at hand feel forced. I never felt like I learned anything. Whatever I have learned came from reading books, books by smart people, people who also hated taking tests. Those people went on to write books that tested the testers, bucked the system, took a swing at the status quo. For them, the test was life, the biggest of them all, a test with an unknown time limit and a million ways to screw up.

This past week, I was reminded that life is "the test". And its a complicated test, where you're being asked to answer different questions at various intervals.The question for me, this go round, was could I truly embody my own principle of loving everyone? Could I rise above the easy way out, to hate passionately?

The answer is yes and no. At some point this week, a complete stranger threw a wrench into mine and my families life, a wrench that none of us expected or saw coming. It wasn't personal. It was thrown by a desperate, selfish individual who took advantage of a situation that presented itself to them. In the process, I and my wife have felt like prisoners in our own home, afraid of venturing outside the walls that usually mean safety and solace. For a typically positive person who has no trouble holding back their anger, I became something I can't stand this week, an angry man. I resented the situation we were put in. I resented that it was brought upon us by no wrong doing of our own. That resentment grew,  blossoming into something ugly and grotesque. It eventually became hate, pure, unadulterated hate for someone I did not know from Adam. This hate pushed me to a dark place, a place I'm not used to going, where everyone and everything annoyed me. I lashed out at friends, at family. I went to bed a few nights clinching my fists. I felt helpless.

I woke up this morning with a feeling of sadness that seemed to come from nowhere, just a pit of exhausted rage that had faded to solemn regret. There's a Metallica song titled "Wasting My Hate". I think that's what happened. I hated someone so hard that it died. It went from hate to mild indifference. I went from "I hope you get hit by a car" to "I don't care if you get hit by a car". I'm working, as I type this, to get to "I hope you almost get hit by a car and it teaches you a lesson". I realized that hating this person did not make me feel better. It made me feel worse. It made me resentful when I should feel thankful, thankful' for badass parents that raised me well, for excellent friends that have been there for me, thankful for my amazing, incredible wife who has stood by me and given me so much to be joyful about. I began to feel sorry for this person, for whatever befell them prior to this situation that has made them so selfish and delirious. They have a story too, a story I don't know. It scares me to think their place in life is a direct result of someones down fall or issue. That makes me realize that, as much as I want to be angry, I have to see things from another lens. I have to assume that their selfishness is not self taught but learned. I have to forgive them a little bit....for my sake.

I'm not telling you this is easy. It's tough. There's no part of me that likes this person. I still want to see them taught a lesson, to see them pay for the damage they've done. But I no longer want it to ruin them, to destroy their life. I've found myself hoping that, through this, maybe they see their attitude, their disease of the mind, for what it is. I've found myself hoping they get their life together and find something worth living for. I really do.

So yes I have hated and no, it didn't win out over love.

From here, I just want this ordeal to be over. I just want peace.

What I've Been Watching Lately....The Annual TV Rundown

Twice or so yearly, I document my current stable of consistently watched television shows.
Here you go.....

Game Of Thrones: Epic, very adult take on the fantasy element. It's like somebody took Lord Of The Rings and added more Old Testament grit to it, unreliable protagonists , incest, decapitations and...well...dragons. I finished the first season in about three days. It's worth the time spent online matching characters with their names. Watch it expecting to be shocked....and impressed.

Madmen: I never tire of Don Drapers slow, agonizing descent into misery. This show is so consistent, so well written and acted, it sort of becomes an extension of your life...except everyone on the show has less shame than the people in your own life whom you thought shameless. If The Sopranos is the best show in television history, Madmen just may be the smartest.

True Blood: It's trashy, surface level emotive...and me and my wife have been addicted from episode one. It's mindless entertainment written very well by the great Alan Ball (Six Feet Under, American Beauty). There's blood, pretty people and....more blood. Leave your brain at the door.

The Big Bang Theory: My wife recently convinced me to start watching this. I begrudgingly sat down, awaiting the onset of yawns  and eye rolls to come. Instead, I found myself laughing like hell. It's genuinely one of the funniest sitcom's since Seinfeld. It's glorious. Sheldon is probably the second or third greatest cable television character ever dreamed up.

Swamp People: There's something about ass backwards Cajun people shooting alligators and speaking mumbo jumbo for an hour that keeps me glued to the screen. I don't have a reason why. I just wind up watching the entire episode, wondering quietly if the alligators are ever going to win.

Mob Wives: I generally hate reality shows. Reality shows about women are even worse. Nothing annoys me worse than a room full of obnoxious, self obsessed chicks. This little hellion, though, is a different entity altogether. These girls are connected...by blood, by marriage to the mafia. Needless to say, my years as a fan of gangster movies and extensive useless research into the history of the mob persuaded me to check it out. It's vile, its ugly, its ruthless...and its awesome. There's no scripted drama here. These chicks are hot bloodied tigers, full of vitriole and angst. They scratch, claw and cuss their way into your home. The best part is the fact that I loathe all of them. I can watch the show laughing at their stupidity and their botched plastic surgery  because, truth be told.....they're horrible human beings.

Deep Space Nine: I like Star Trek. I had never seen Deep Space Nine. So far, so good.

Batman: The Animated Series: Bought the box set, took me back to being eight years old on Tuesday nights. The animation, dark storylines and epic soundtrack made this, in  my book, the best animated series of all time.

Charlie Rose: Great interviews.

Bill Dance's Fishing Show: It has a strange likability. Plus, he's such a jackass.

The Daily Show: They don't think Obama's doing so hot....neither do I. It works.

Diners, Drive Ins And Dives: Guy's pretty rad. It sucks to watch him eat all that good food when all you have at the house is Colby Cheeze Its.

Time Lifes Disco Classics Infomercial: Every night, I can pass out to this without fear of needing to watch it.

What Does It Mean.....

Don't ask  questions....just read the following...and interpret.


Theres this man, pushing eighty and looking it. He's been a citizen, a patron, a father, a husband and a believer. Those roles are all he has, all he will leave behind, definitions of external worth as seen by his society. His life, the endless string of disappointments, successes, close calls and what ifs, stands to be over quite soon, assuming his pack a day habit has been quietly whittling away at the lungs  behind his rib cage. Who knows? Who rightly cares?

Tomorrow, nothing is happening, nothing of definition. For him, if something must occur, it need be worthy of defining as monumental, even in a fractional way. Considering today's events, which amounted to nothing, it is safe to assume tomorrows happenings will follow similar structure. He's quite alright with that. It means he doesn't have to put his shoes on..or his pants. He can keep his Notre Dame boxers on, as well as the wife beater he hasn't changed in two days.

Comfort, for a man in his twilight hour, is key. The routine is what keeps hims sane. There's a wonderful succession of television shows to view from sun up to all hours of the deep night. He'll sleep in waves, stirring at the same times to catch the tail end of Law And Order or half of 60 Minutes. The idea is to sleep, watch TV  and remember to eat some of the cereal he sends his neighbor out for once a week. It's some generic stuff, a store brand flake of banal description. It's not that he likes it. It's that he just doesn't  care.

That's not all he doesn't care about. If you were to visit him, and you never would, you'd notice the dining room table, which he doesn't use, is covered in unopened mail. None of its bills or coupons. His bills get paid by the military. Coupons are for queers, or so he says. No, this mail is from people who love him, who miss him. They write notes, send Christmas cards, birthday gifts, invitations to weddings. He always pulls the envelopes from his mail box and carefully alphabetizes them by each childs name...Ron, Sue, Jill  and Jane. The boy is a soldier. The girls are all hairdressers.

He doesn't like salons. He gets buzz cuts from barber shops that still advertise a "close shave". The men who cut his hair are near his age, all a tad heavier and more jovial than he. They watch Fox News on a muted screen and chew tooth picks as they lather shaving cream on the necks of other aging, disheveled American men. The conversations he has with them, when he goes every two weeks, are narrowed to football, politics and car engines. Outside of these talking points, the only semi-breached subject is wives. His is dead, so he doesn't have to say a thing...which pleases him.

His day is something of a revelation. If he times it right, the shows on his flat screen segue into one another ever so gently, meaning he doesn't have to be alone with his thoughts. That's what its all about...keeping the thoughts out of his head.

When he dies, no one will find him for a week. He'll be stiff. They'll close the casket for sure. Some people will cry, a eulogy built on hyperbole will be read. Then people will crowd into the church hall and eat fried chicken with green beans and mashed potatoes. Amongst them, a couple with hold hands, knowing they've created life..and soon...very soon...it will begin again.

Marriage Vows

A few friends who attended my recent wedding suggested I post my wife and I's personal vows. Here they are....


 Kat, we read in Genesis, "Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother and cleave unto his wife," and in Proverbs "Who so findeth a wife findeth a good thing." In you, I have found the best thing, a strong, independent woman who loves me unconditionally, supports my ambitions and dreams and knows me in way no one can pretend to. For nearly eight years, I have had the pleasure of growing up with you, loving you more still each day. You have been my solace, my strength, my source of joy and laughter. You are truly the best thing about me. When I think of us, I think of Johnny Cash and June Carter, a love unchanged by time and built on a trust that knows no limits. As we stand here, surrounded by people we love, family and our dear friends, I am so honored to take you as my wife...and so thrilled that we get to take this journey together. I love you.


 Max, On this April afternoon , I am reminded of the verse James 1:17 which says, "Every good thing bestowed and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow." With a gift such as you, I believe that with all my heart and soul. I was sixteen when I fell in love with you. You changed how I thought, how I dreamed. You made me feel such hope. Your love and dedication to me have never faltered. There is no one I trust in and care for more than you. For close to eight years, I have laughed with you, cried with you and all the while felt at home in your arms. I am so very excited to take you as my husband and so very ready for the next chapter in our lives. I love you.

Writing A Screenplay

There's nothing more or less rewarding than screenwriting. It's a constant "how does this sound" vs "how will this transfer to screen" debate. There's the never ending self esteem issues that come with writing alone, as in you never know how good or bad something is until you let people take a gander.

I've been blessed thus far with good reviews on the occasion when someone sits down and takes it in. That gives me the courage and where with all to keep going, keep bettering my style and pace. I love it. I hate it. It has become as natural as rain. I miss it when I take a day or five off. I loathe it when I write for too long. There's no comparison to the feeling when it all comes together, when your characters stop being characters and take on their own personalities. That's the sweet spot every writer craves. There's no other rage like when you remember you're writing and everything comes out contrived. It's a great contrast of emotions.

I think with independent screenplays, with any script really, the idea is to convey a group of ideas that may or may not be your own. That's where a lot of patience, some imagination and the will to go out of ones comfort zone play a huge role. You have to lose all sense of self in order to construct a fictional world full of fictional people. Distance is key to that sort of process, distance from your own opinions, distance from your convictions and ideals. It's imperative that your story become an entirely separate life force, complete with a heart beat and a mindset all its own. At the core of your message, there must, I think, exist a universal element central to all humanity, something each person can take and make their own.

From there, its this emotional process of investing some aspect of who you are into the characters, maybe just something simple. You have to relate to their guilt, their decision in some manner. If you can't, you won't be able to make them come off the page and into focus. That last ingredient of self is vital to the final product. When that piece is added to the puzzle, all things unclear become transparent.


My original attempt at screenwriting was awful, a fifty page mountain of cliches and overwrought monologues. To this day, I cringe when I pull it out. The characters talk too much and they have no real arch's. It's all flat and pretentious and overlong. But I keep it, as a reminder that we all start somewhere. It helps me keep my head up, knowing I'm able to grow as a writer, that stagnation has not yet kept me back.

The highs make up for the lows, though, and I'm fairly confident in my ability to deliver. My first full length project was a script for one of my last college classes, an advanced writing course. I had no idea what to expect going in. I was nervous as I could be. I wound up reading the script, which had some rough language based on it being a long conversation between two Army vets, with my professor, who was a woman. Hearing her lady like voice reading such harsh dialogue made me feel sort of honored, like she let her guard down to play the character I created. When it was all said and done, I got a standing ovation. That was my first clue I wasn't delusional. One of the tougher hombres in my class took me aside and told me "you need to do this for the rest of your life". He was a veteran himself and he felt I'd nailed the dialects and the verbage well. He also liked the rather morbid ending.

The truth is, you have to find a voice you can call your own. You can read scripts you like, watch movies you dig and quote people you like all day...in the end, its up to you to make a difference, take some chances and get it done. That's where I'm at...and its an interesting place to be.

Titanic 3D: My Thoughts

My pretentious nature with film is probably extremely annoying to the average Joe. My angst and vitriol for the Transformers films alone is worth at least ten volumes of written dissection. I hated them, not as much as George Lucas god awful prequels to the best fantasy film trilogy ever created. I reserve a sort of otherworldly hate for Episodes 1-3, not unlike that of Hitler for the Jews (please, no hate mail...take a joke). The point is, I'm serious about what I like and what I don't. And sometimes I'm the only guy defending what I like (Waterworld anyone?). Sometimes I'm the only guy downing films I hate (Avatar). I am a polarizing critic. I'm the guy who trashes your favorite movie so well that you might end up hating it by the time I'm done. I take pride in that.

I say that to say this...I have always enjoyed and defended James Cameron's Titanic. For all its shortcomings, cheesy dialogue, actors finding their way, virtually no character development beyond the two leads..and a very underused Cathy Bates, I found the film to be on par stylistically and thematically with other bloated epics (Gone With The Wind, Ben Hur, Spartacus, Cleopatra). By bloated, I don't many any disrespect. Big stories require a grand scale, lush visions of the grandiose, dramatic lighting, etc. That's what Cameron set out to do, make a sweeping dramatic love story with the Titanic as the back ground. Don't kid yourself, because that's what the movie is.

Titanic is not a biopic about the ships maiden/final voyage. It's really just a throwback early 1900's love story, written with the same sensibility that any Cary Grant or Jimmy Stewart film of yore would have been, cheesy dialogue included. Cameron was smart enough to realize that the only way you get both chicks and dudes crammed into a movie theater is to cross breed ideas. Guys want to see a movie about a ship that crashes into an iceberg and kills thousands of people. Women want to see a forbidden love story that winds up tragically unfulfilled. Cameron divided the movie up nicely, with the first and second half equally giving the opposite sexes their desired experience.

The magic was how the romantic half wound up affecting dudes. Guys suddenly found Kate Winslet reminded them of their wife or girlfriend. The script, tightly arranged, managed to pull them into this world of forbidden romance. The longer they watched this love blossom, the more they quit thinking about the big crash silently looming. They began to forget about the momentary teen idol fandom of Leo Dicaprio and started rooting for the character of Jack, who's underdog status appealed to the every mans working class nature. This movie stopped being about that damn ship.

When the time came for what they originally wanted to see, the guys in the audience suddenly didn't want it to happen. That's the sheer talent of James Cameron. Every other movie he'd ever made was a total dude movie..Terminator, Aliens, Terminator 2, True Lies, etc. He took everything he knew about the male mind and applied it to the Jack and Rose love story. Somehow, with one frozen Leo Dicaprio, Kate Winslet hoarsely weeping and that door she was floating on bobbing her up and down like a red headed buoy, James Cameron made just about every heterosexual guy in America, machismo aside, shed at least one tear. And this was not the "man tear", that solitary, epic tear reserved for Gladiator or Braveheart. This was the "why, God, why" tear, the tear/tears usually cried by a woman.

For these reasons, and the fact that I don't mind crying the "why God, why" tears (you wanna call me out, I'll kick your ass), I love the movie to death. No, its not a brilliant piece of work on any esoteric level. Yes, the dialogue is about as original as the latest nu-metal rock group. No, I don't place it in my top ten. BUT, I place it on equal footing with Gone With The Wind...making it number eighteen on my list of best movies ever made.

What can I say? It's a great movie.

How did I like the 3D version? I loved it, save for the fact that I totally forgot I was watching it in 3D very early on. It still holds up after 15 YEARS. I feel old now.

Watching The World Burn....From A Pontoon Boat With A Line In The Water

I think the greatest sin a person can commit is to lose ones sense of irony. There's something tangible, unifying even, about a sort of very distinct love of the ironic. Some people really dog sarcasm and dark, depth perception empowered humor. People, those especially obsessed with some utopian illusion, they like their world all wrapped in this exquisite bow. Their whole niche in the universe is to put more make up on the corpse, shove sunshine so far up your butt that you start to believe their hype yourself. That's where I think you have to put on the brakes, slap a few faces red and say "laugh at your disposition".

I can't, in good conscience, be a positive person. One look at two dysfunctional political parties, a long line of self serving world leaders and two minutes of the evening news, you start looking for a knife that'll hit the vein clean. It's dire. And if I was some dim witted, happy go lucky type, my mojo would be dying out like the AIDS crisis. I just don't feel the need to have hope for humanity. I think we're beyond hope as a people. We're just too jaded and too selfish and too out of touch with any sense of duty or humanity ourselves, it sort of seems like we're begging for a meteor to end it all.

My remedy to that is irony, pure unadulterated irony. And with that comes the dead baby jokes and the endless string of other inappropriate things I say to combat the rigors of a mentally polluted world. It's not meant to be pretty or to improve the situation, declining in quality as I type. It's meant to be a last middle finger to the tight wads, a defining stance against complacency and legislated moral culture. It's something trends can't filter into mainstream acceptance. No, its the vital enemy of all that, a machine of lacking character and growing clarity. It's all resolute with me, simple and clean and not at all arbitrary. The best part is it comes from the nebula of good will. It's there so you can laugh at the dogmatic enema that is our governmental system. It's there so you can shake your head, drink your coffee and pick up the dog shit off the sidewalk...with defiance.
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And all it takes is the raising of an eye brow, a knowing glance....the sense to be ever present among the lemmings, the drones of televised instruction. It doesn't mean the meteor doesn't cook the skin off your bones and reduce you to dust particles not unlike those hanging mid air in your double wide. It means while every other loser on the planet is crying, screaming and cursing God for what they perceive to be an unjust ending, you'll be laughing your ass off, winking up at Him, and quietly saying "I totally understand".

"When our kids are grown
With kids of their own
They'll send us away
To a little home in Florida
We'll play checkers all day
Until we pass away"-Randy Newman

Writers Who Inspire Me

I am a veracious reader of books, articles, and blogs. I love to soak up information. Through the broad medium of literature, I have found a great many people who inspire me. Some of them I could say I agree with and others I have nothing in common with at all. What inspires me about people I agree with is their dedication to their beliefs and their pursuit of the truth, whether in real life or inside their fiction. What inspires me about people I don't agree with is their dedication to their beliefs and their pursuit of the truth. Inspiration, for me, can come from unlikely and unsettling places. You'll notice some of these people are polar opposites. If you know me, you know my faith and my politics, so you can surmise who in the list I do and don't agree with on a personal level. Forget that for a second and try to understand why they are influential in a general sense....


Flannery O'Conner

CS Lewis

Donald Miller

Johnny Cash

Emma Goldman

Ernest Hemingway

Cormack MCarthy

David Foster Wallace

Stephen King

JRR Tolkien

Sylvia Plath

Micheal Crighton

Claudio Sanchez

Kim Neely

Mickey Spillane

Dee Brown

Ray Bradbury

Steve Earle

Tolstoy

Herman Melville

Jonathan Franzen

Karl Marx

Joseph Conrad

John Cheever

What Is A Libertarian?

I am often asked, based on my more political blog posts, what my exact political beliefs are. I am a Libertarian and VERY, VERY proud of it. But what, you ask, does that mean exactly?

To be Libertarian means quite literally to believe in liberty. I believe that, on the majority of issues, people have the right to make their own decisions, without a liberal "big government" or a conservative "moral government" to interfere.

What we as Libertarians hope to do is help individuals be just that, individual. That means taking the government out of most private decisions. (Like a lot of modern Libertarians, my only concession to this is abortion, which I am strongly against)

We want to abolish both halves of the welfare/warfare bureaucracy (privatizing real services) and liberate the 7/8ths of our wealth that's now soaked up by the costs of a bloated and ineffective government, to make us all richer and free.

We work to oppose tyranny everywhere, whether it's the typical variety fueled by greed and a lust for power or the more subtle, telling folks what's good for them work over.

We don't believe in legislating morality. Even as many of us are members of a faith (I myself am a devout Christian), we do not support a government that forces religious will upon its citizens. There are many reasons why we oppose this. It's dangerous and its not in the best interest of a free nation. People's personal decisions, whatever their outcome or consequence, are their own. We draw the line at any act that harms another human being.

All libertarians want to live in a society based (far more than ours now is) on free trade and mutual voluntary contract; the government's job would be strictly to referee, and use the absolute minimum of force necessary to keep the peace.

Libertarians concede that all human beings are entitled to equality before the law and fair treatment as individuals responsible their own actions. We strictly oppose racism, sexism, and sexual-preference bigotry, whether perpetrated by private individuals or by government. We reject any and all racial discrimination, whether in its ugly traditional forms or in its newer guises as Affirmative Action quotas and "diversity" rules. Yeah, that's right. We see it both ways.

We understand that bigotry will always have an unfortunate place in our world. The only decent laws are those that never mention the words "black" or "white"; "man" or "woman"; "gay" or "straight". Bigotry on all levels is the same as attacking ones religion. We oppose that with full belief.

We also believe the drug war is a major waste of your money..and ours. 85% of all crime is related to drugs. We believe in legalizing all drugs. It's controversial, but you would be surprised by the changes in crime level. The government has spent untold billions on anti-drug programs, many of them nothing more than propaganda with misinformation. Drugs are not good and most Libertarians are not users, but we respect the right of an individual to ingest what he or she desires without interference.

This is an extremely simplified explanation of my political party. We are very much in the middle of the two popular parties and widely misunderstood. But I promise you, we care about our country and her people more than you know. We believe in the Constitution as it was written. We believe YOU have the right to make more decisions concerning YOU than the so called government.

The Sopranos.....Contrasting Elements

I fight as a viewer to be engaged with the material a writer presents on television. I wrestle with logic and with plausibility, even though I'm perfectly aware that television is escapism. I, like many opinionated viewers, enjoy a healthy dose of reality inside the realm of whatever show I watch. That's why my list of favorite shows all qualify as having some very basic, realistic elements inside of their fabric.

Television, like the movies, is about distorted reality, its about epic happenings. That's why we tune in week in and week out, to find some adventure lacking in our own American lives. Some shows are better than others at effectively blurring the lines. Those are the shows that can place grounded characters in larger than life situations. My all time favorite show did just that.

The Sopranos ended its six season run over five years ago. To this day, it has meant more to me as a cinematic achievement than any other program...OR film...that I have ever seen. It's hold on me, enthralling in depth and substance, was uncommon. Rarely did I take such ownership in a television show, in a cast of characters. There was something uniquely pivotal about the show, about its depiction of these terrible, awful people who all seemed to be one decision away from the bottom of a river.

The magic of the Sopranos, the magic of David Chase, was that common, law abiding Americans with no desire to commit a crime of any nature, were enthralled by a drama that dealt with a man who spent most of his waking hours doing just that. The embodiment of human sin, of flesh and blood, Tony Sopranos heavy set figure cast a new kind of shadow on the formulaic world of tv drama.

At first, we thought of The Sopranos as a show about bad guys, nothing more than a really engrossing gangster drama. What I came to understand is that it was never about bad guys or good guys. It was about people, real people, people who made some very distinct and morally reprehensible decisions in life and yet, at the core, were all about family. No other drama had ever contrasted two opposing elements so adeptly. For as often as you hated Tony Soprano, wanted his blood on the wall, almost as often you felt he had a heart, that part of him could have been a legitimate citizen. That's the beauty of The Sopranos.

It's not about rooting for a good guy or a bad guy. It's about watching the morality play of one mans life and the various negative and occasionally positive effects it has on those around him. That is how it must be viewed. Too long had audiences been force fed all too black and white stories of good vs evil. As much as we'd like it to be that simple, it really isn't. There is evil in the best of us and there is good is the worst of us.

What The Sopranos did, at least for me, was put this hard truth on display, allowing audiences to judge and sympathize accordingly. There is no denying the level of depravity these characters exuded. But, there is also no denying that none of them, with the exception of one Phil Leotardo, was heartless. That, in a nutshell, is why we love the dichotomy.

The Toughest Decisions....

I have been seeking the best vantage point for my entire young life, a place from which to survey my existence in the most logical and orderly fashion. Sometimes, whether I know it or not, I stand in a position of question, of where the road leads next. You walk many a road in your life, variations of the same basic scenery, the turns and occasional bumps articulated to the precise moment in time you are passing through, transcendental blues intact. The mask I wear these days is not quite one of Irish fatalism. I'm not that brave. It's one of decisive rumination, of changing tides and open doors. It fits, if only for a moment, so that I may see where I tread just a trite more carefully. Soon, it will come off..and I can breathe again.

For the last six months, I have been planning the next stage of my life. It has been interesting, exhausting, awkward and intensely motivating. I have spent more time in conversation with myself than ever before, more time in deep, concentrated thought than I have ever, in my life, wanted to. Change is something we all find to be both tempting and horrifying, at once because it carries a promise of new beginnings and, at the same time, means leaving certain things behind. I have always been a proponent of change if it means possibilities arise different from the ones already available.

In my case, and the case of a coincidental number of good friends, it seems such a change has come along, different for each of us but holding in its core a unifying idea...that nothing can ever be the same. That scared me. Sameness equals comfort...comfort equals lack of worry..and lack of worry equals I'm enjoying my life with no barriers. This is isn't a change of comfort. It's a change of necessity, a change of pace, of direction. It's everything I truly desire and yet its only a migratory step in the right direction.

That first step puts me at odds with everything I have ever known, all the familiarity in the world. It means, for once, I am, in many ways, on my own. I'm not alone in the physical sense or really the emotional sense. I get married, happily and ecstatically, in a little over two months. But in my soul, where these decisions are forged like steel, there is a rebel heart, a man apart from all that has sheltered him. In that way, I am on my own, my own judge, my own worst enemy. It's all a big mess of titles I can carry under the "OWN" banner.

And damn it, its hard. It's harder than I think anyone could imagine to make these decisions, to suddenly take the risks to get to where I want to be in life. And there's nothing pretentious, selfish or egotistical about it....nothing. If I don't make this change, face these hurdles, my career ambitions, life goals and dreams stagnate. Then I am left, for the rest of my waking days, with what could have been. That's totally unacceptable to me.

I want something very badly. I feel, with no airs about it, that I have a talent worth fighting for. And, for all the risks and potholes and the ever annoying "what ifs", I can honestly say I am confident in my heart and soul that I won't regret where the road leads. So, with some vagueness to my post, I say, soon the West stands a chance of being won...and this pathetic redneck is considering his method of take down.

What I'd Love To Say......But Can't

Every day I type out a new blog...and every day it goes to the drafts section, or "print purgatory" as I call it. The problem is not that each post isn't worthy of your eyes and thoughts. That's not it at all. The issue is honesty hurts. And, for all of my existential flaws and personal shortcomings, I am, at the end of the day, a fairly honest guy. I try not to wear my heart on my sleeve. I attempt to dial back my aggressive tendencies as a writer. I try. I try. I try.

And that's why there are thirty unpublished, almost fully written blog posts you will never read just sitting in my computer alone. I'm kind of ashamed of that. I'm ashamed that I can't be as honest as I want to be. I'm ashamed that my opinions are so controversial, it could start a heated debate with friends and maybe even family.

But man, do I wanna unload. I've got a volley of tirades, of critical analysis just waiting to be devoured. Yet something cordial within me keeps them at arms length. Thanks to where I live (that's changing hella soon) and what the popular opinion is, I feel the need to be a little less of a soap boxer. I feel the need to respect differences a little more.

What's sad about that is, this MY blog. This is the one place where I should be able to sound off. You actually have to seek this blog out to actually read it. I mean, hell, its called "As I See It". You should know what you're getting into.

I don't know, guys. Part of me is considering letting fur fly. I am strongly considering posting all thirty articles. I really am. So, if you're afraid of the unknown. If you think you like me, be prepared to get blindsided. I am not in the business of conformity.

Alas, time will tell.

Until then,
embody love.

What I Believe.........

I have touched on my faith here before. I explained why, in such a cruel, crazy, beautiful world, I could have it. I'm not a preachy person by any means. I don't expect everyone to believe what it is I believe.

However, I had a friend of mine the other day ask me to explain my faith in a simple way. He said that people always explain what they believe to him in complicated terms. For that reason, I decided, in a very non-preachy way, I should explain the basis of my faith in simple, easy to understand terms for the curious.

I had prepared a four paragraph explanation of it. I was actually quite proud of it if I do say so myself. But, then I was listening to some tunes, mostly Metallica and some Springsteen, when a Rich Mullins song came on. If you don't know who that is, don't worry. He never got the respect he deserved and consequently isn't as celebrated as he should be. Mainstream Christians thought he asked too many questions. I, as someone who hates the insipid nature of most Christian music, have been a fan now for sometime, mostly because his songs were so honest, so raw and real. Anyway (I tend to ramble ), a song of his came on just as I was about to publish my blog on Christianity. The song is called "Creed".

It just so happens that this terrific song wonderfully encapsulates everything I believe....and very much in order. So, instead of boring you with my pretentious explanation, here are the lyrics to "Creed". This is 100% what I believe with all my heart and soul. This is my life:

I believe in God the Father almighty
Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth
And in Jesus Christ
His only begotten Son, our Lord
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit
Born of the virgin Mary
Suffered under Pontius Pilate
He was crucified and dead and buried


And I believe what I believe
Is what makes me what I am
I did not make it, no it is making me
It is the very truth of God and not
The invention of any man

I believe that He who suffered
Was crucified, buried, and dead
He descended into hell and
On the third day, rose again
He ascended into Heaven where
He sits at God's mighty right hand
I believe that He's returning to
Judge the quick and the dead
Of the sons of men


I believe it, I believe it
I believe it
I believe it, I believe it

I believe in God the Father almighty
Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son,
Our Lord
I believe in the Holy Spirit
One Holy Church, the communion of Saints
The forgiveness of sin
I believe in the resurrection
I believe in a life that never ends



I believe it, I believe
I believe it, I believe
I believe it, I believe it



(I should probably note that Rich Mullins disliked fame, gave most of his earnings to the poor, and lived out his last days on a Navajo reservation. He died in a tragic car crash in 1997. He was a humble, honest man...and his incredible words live on.)

This post was not meant to "shove Jesus" down your throat. I'd be doing you a disservice if I claimed this blog to be from the heart and never opened up a bit about my faith. It's what I believe, what's kept me going all these years. And honestly, it took realizing how adult and violent the Bible really is, not a bunch of happy go lucky advice, to really appreciate it growing up. I was blessed to have some interesting and "out of the box" people help me along. That's why I tend to be a little weary of mainstream Christianity, of marketing Jesus. To me, it has to be a little more raw and visceral than its made out to be. Anyway, peace out.

What Is Love?

The following was written at 4am, aided by a Red Bull, Kristofferson playing on the stereo and my usual late night epiphanies that seem so half baked in the morning.....


Love is something that science cannot decipher. It's something psychoanalysis can't understand even after hours of chair time. Love is not a feeling, not some emotional connection. If it were, we'd be screwed, really screwed. Our emotions are some of the most untrustworthy aspects of who are. They want us to do this, but they hate us later for doing it. They beg us for that but later say they were just kidding. With love, emotions can't be the fuel for our fire. They just can't. Love is deeper, darker and more passionate than that.


I was sitting on the couch today, still tired from working literally all night the previous evening. My fiance called me on the phone. This is our normal routine. She calls me when she gets off work to see how I am, just to check in and say she loves me. She does it like clock work. It occured to me that she doesn't just do this because she feels like it. There's no way she always feels like calling me after talking to a classroom full of kids for eight hours. The last thing I wanna do after working all day is talk more. I wanna come home and veg out on the couch with a Mountain Dew and play Red Dead Redemption. But, nevertheless, she always calls me when she gets off. I realized after thinking about it for a minute that her calling me no matter what is a perfect example of what love really is. It's being compassionate and caring and sweet even when you want to be cranky and pissy and sarcastic. And that means the world to me. My ritual has been, for some time, to make sure I periodically tell her she means the world to me, that she's the best thing that ever happened to me and that my love is unconditional. I do this a few times a week randomly....just so she knows.


I always want her to know that my love for her is one of the few things in life that keeps me grounded. In seven years, she's taught me so much about compassion and honesty. She's done this through basic communication. It's in the finer details, the simpler things you do. The person you love notices these things. They latch on to your quirks and your weirdness and love you all the more for it. I don't need Dr. Phil to tell me that. You don't either. The key, if you're asking me, to a good relationship, is defining what love is and what it isn't. Love isn't egotisitical or selfish or domineering. It's patient and kind and honest and real. It takes time and dedication and a willingness to grow. Most of all, I think it takes ignoring the impulse to be impatient or egotistical or domineering. Do we all give into this impulse from time to time? Of course we do. In truth, how we handle the ramifications of our occasional shortcomings set us apart as well. Understanding and fulfilling another person on multiple levels takes time and effort. It takes pursuing the goals you share, planning your lives accordingly and sacrificing your wants when its needed. It also means that you make this person your number one priority. All of the things you used to do for you...they're gone. You're now doing them for two. Act accordingly...make the phone call, express yourself, etc. Be love embodied.


Anyway, that's just an observation. I don't think it explains the vast complexities of love, but I think it emphasizes the power and beauty of it. I'm happy I have a love that is not based on momentary emotions or ideas. I have relationship based on my full dedication to another human being, someone who has grounded me, energized me, challenged me and saved me. Hopefully, if you are in a relationship, nothing is conditional. Conditions mean you're not committed. A true loyalty means you're there in the best of times and the worst, all too often the same all at once.

Be love,

Max

The Secret To Life.......

There have been a lot of people claiming to know the secret to life, that magic process of cultivating what might one day be dubbed a life well lived. Some of them have, I think, gotten close to the heart of the matter. Others have made money off impressionable people who took their "advice". Depending on what faith you claim, the secret to life is obviously very different.

But, there is something most faiths have in common, a shared "secret" that really isn't so secret after all. In fact, its really more of an idea that gets ignored because it requires self sacrifice. And God forbid we sacrifice anything for the greater good of humanity. It truly is a fool proof method for getting what you want, assuming what you want is to be happy.

So what is it? What is this wonderful "secret"?

It starts with identifying the people around you, who they are, what they do, what they believe and how they think. Once you've figured that out, you have to figure out what it is that person most desires in the world, their ultimate goal or dream. What do they want? Is it good for them? Can you help, even in a small way?

If the answers yes, do something to help that person get what it is they want. Forget about yourself. Devote some time to helping people, learning from them as you go along, taking stock of whats important and what is not. See how they react to forward movement in their lives. Comprehend their struggles, their victories. See what you have in common, what you share.

Then take all this and apply it to yourself. Ask yourself if what you want is what you need, if its good for you. If the answer is still yes, devote yourself to the ideal. Go for broke, fight the good fight.

If its not, play video games.

(The idea is that less focus on self helps us decide what really matters after all...aka "what I want" vs "what I need". They can be the same, but often they are not.)

Drive: The Best Film Of 2011.

My contempt for the Academy is quite long winded and would, if expressed verbally, come across as a volley of four letter words hellbent on taking whatever, if any, credit they might have still owned and dashing it against the rocks.

Why you ask?

Because the best damn movie I've seen in a dogs age was denied any true accolade. This is a movie I sank my teeth into, languished in, felt encompassed by. This was a film created for me, for people like me, people who still have faith in cinema. This was something on par with Cagney in Angels With Dirty Faces or Nicholson in The Shining. This was a magical, cut to the tendons moment in Hollywood history.

The film, if you didn't already know, is called Drive. It's an independent wonderland of tightly drawn expressions, shadowy criminals and broken hearts. It comes hammering out of the silence to a pulsating, 80's throwback beat. It drives, no pun intended, from open air location to closed off intimacy with the grace a slow motion gun shot. And when the bullet breaks skin, when the shit hits the fan, the gore and sinew pull you under like a low tide. And it works, every frame, every minimalist line. It all cohesively molds a diorama of sexual tension never consummated by more than a stare. It's a film all about not getting what you want...or what you need. It's about getting what you're given and dealing with it. That's why it works, why it manages to avoid cliche and why it sears its hero, cocooned in his scorpion jacket, into your brain. You feel his blood running through your veins. You know this guy.

It's everything a noir should be. It's the anti-thesis of the stupid car chase movie. You might think, from the opening seconds, that you're watching a car movie. You just might. But what you're seeing is a man that can never be free, never hold anything to call his own. He drives because forward movement with no destination is all he has, an endless road ahead, beset with snares and obstacle. He can't have a future. You want it for him. You can see it in the way Gosling and Mulligan tear one another part with nothing but a stare, a longing stare containing ample doses of emotional discourse that never finds an external means of reception. It's beautiful, valiantly stunning stuff. It kicked my ass. They just don't make stuff this good anymore...except this time, they did.

There's something to be said for Nicolas Winding Refn. He takes a script originally intended to be a disposable Hugh Jackman speed thriller and turns into a tour de force of art house cinema raping Steve MQueen car mythos. It all works. The looks shared between Mulligan and Gosling contain paragraphs of unwritten dialogue. That alone is Oscar worthy. There is a sexual tension there more palpable than anything cooked up in any romantic film this decade. And there's enough violence to give David Cronenberg a migraine. That violence is the anti-Tarantino...no gloss...no style....just magma sized chunks of blood and flesh poring off the screen. And for heavens sake, it isn't predictable.

And if you plan to ignore the Academy's recommendations this year, go rent it. Sit down with your beverage of choice, make no assumptions and get lost in the haze of LA. It's worth it.

The RB Philosophy

I'm a very happy and content person in a general sense. I enjoy life. I'm extremely blessed beyond measure. I am in no way a depressed or angry person. But, I will be the first to tell you I worry about everything. It runs in the family I think. Whether it be micro-managing or paranoia, worry seems to be a genetic vice. I constantly fret over the dumbest details and issues. It's not something I'm proud of, not in the least. But, its simply something I find, especially as I get older, is an unfortunate aspect of existence...at least for me. Not everyone I know is like that.

One person stands out from the crowd, a man who has probably enjoyed his life on a level unparalleled by anyone else in existence. I mean that, too. That is not an exaggeration. He's the one guy I know who could enjoy a cigar with full knowledge that the world was ending and probably not bat an eye. I'm talking about my Dad. He's literally the most laid back human being I have ever known. His sense of calm has confounded, annoyed and helped me for the last twenty four years.

It's confounded me in its depth, in its utter transcendental nature. By that I mean it can adapt to whatever he's going through in life. It rolls with the punches. Times change. Dad does not. You could tell him he has a terrible disease, that tomorrow Siberian assassins are coming to kill him. He'll still be calm. He'll probably even have something funny to say about it. Most of all, he will not panic. The dude does not freak out. It's eerie. He's as calm as a Jimmy Buffet record in a hurricane.

It annoys me because I envy him. I see how calm he remains in hard times, when there's drama or when something generally goes wrong. He assesses the situation from a point of laid back thought. Me? I cuss, yell, turn red and generally have to make ten apologies after the fact. That's not fun. I could stand to take a page out of his book.

When I was sixteen, and knew everything, I could go on a tangent, blah, blah. He'd sit there until I ran out of steam. Then he'd talk to me calmly. He never got angry back. It wasn't worth it. He knew I was wound up tight and also probably a little stupid..as most sixteen years olds are. I never could make him mad. That also frustrated me. Every teenage son goes through their little rebellious stage when they want freedom, independence, etc. It's tough to feel rebellious and cool when your Dad ain't buying it. He was a fortress of calm.

Dad's sense of calm helped me at all the right times. The few times in my life I've done something stupid on a large scale, and everyone was pissed at me, Dad stayed calm and made me feel like it wasn't so bad after all. The first time I ever took my Moms car for a drive, I managed to scrape the garage pulling back in. It was loud. It was bad. I thought I was gonna get crucified. My Moms face turned about eight shades of red. I thought for sure Dad was gonna let me have it, just really tell me how stupid I was and how I was never going to drive again. The first thing he did was manage a half smile. Then he told me a story about how he backed into his mailbox as a teenager. He went out of his way to make me feel less stupid. It floored me. You expect fire and brimstone and you get a shrug and a laugh. That's Dad. He probably thought it was funny as hell.

Another time is much darker, much harder to talk about. Pardon my French, but it was the shittiest day of my life. My Grandmother, or Granny, as we call her, passed away. I hate going to funerals for family members. I despise it. I hate seeing dead relatives. I hate memorial video montages and flowers. I hate the smell of funeral homes. I hate having people telling you they prayed for you when its quite obvious they probably didn't. I hate it all. The one thing that got me through that day, that god-awful, terrible day, was my Dad. He didn't say anything to me about Granny or give me a speech on life and death. He didn't tell me everything was gonna be okay or toss out any false sentiment like everybody else. He was CALM. He was calm in that way only Dad can be, that calm that's wise and gives off the vibe of peace. And man, did I need peace. It was like he knew just what to do. He was very comforting without being depressing. He managed to get me to laugh on the way to cemetery somehow. He put a single hand on my shoulder during the service when I could not control my tears. That hand was all the reassurance I needed in the world that life would go on. He was everything I couldn't be at the time, reserved and tranquil. That really, really saved me from a breakdown. In a room contrasted by honest to goodness tears and people there for the food, in all the insanity, at least Dad was still Dad. As long as Dad can still be Dad, I will find comfort in times of pain. If I find out I have cancer tomorrow, I'll be okay if Dad can still be Dad. It goes a long way in promoting the idea of inherent happiness when, even in the rough moments, one can keep a cool head and find ways to make light of the situation.

My Dad is, bar none, the happiest guy in the room. We went to Vegas in 2008 for my 21st birthday, and I've never had a better time. It was the first time I got to hang out with him as an adult. We played the slots, ate some good food and stayed out way too late. It was epic. When I picture Dad, Vegas always comes to mind. It's a good representation of his personality. On that trip, I got an idea of Dad's philosophy in life. It's simple: Life is short, so have a good time. Enjoy every single minute. Don't waste time worrying about the things you can't change. If you can help it, don't worry at all. Be good to the people in your life. Be open minded. Don't think too deeply about anything not worth the time. Like what you like and if other people don't like it, that's just tough.

I don't know that he'd admit to having a philosophy. He's a pretty humble guy, not the type to make himself sound like anything special. I think his philosophy is more organic than anything pre-conceived. It's my hope that I can adapt at least some of his philosophy myself. It's not easy, not when you're both ADD and eccentric to boot. But I think I can at least come close to some semblance of it. The first thing I'm doing with his philosophy is taking some chances in life, knowing its short and I plan to have a good time. I think that'll make him happy.

"I ain’t here for a long time
I’m here for a good time
So bring on the sunshine
To hell with the red wine
Pour me some moonshine
When I’m gone, put it in stone
He left nothing behind
I ain’t here for a long time
I’m here for a good time"-George Strait