Dawn of the Day

It dawned on me the other Day - how random things are.  I ran into an old friend.  Just walking to a grocery store, and there was this talking bottle of Heinz 57 Ketchup - mixed from authentic backgrounds, but as western as an old dirty cowboy.  He rustled up to me in his chinks and boots, smoking his Malboro.  Well what the fuck?  I thought the same.  In all of the vast area of the city, we ran into each other at the parking lot at 9:30 pm.  I was searching for toiletries; he was out on a date, typical Wayne. 

It also happened a few weeks back, Day's it seems though - walking along a path to nowhere, with somewhere in mind - I passed a dog I was in love with - an Akita Inu.  These breeds were first introduced to me by a sweet angel, and here he was – the first I ever witnessed and knew – an Akita Inu.  I mindlessly passed the owners, when no further than twenty paces, I turned to look again at the dog.  At the same time, the owner turned around, familiar with my face, and he asked if we knew each other.  He was from my hometown.  On some random road, at some random time, in another time zone, he realized the randomness of it all, typical Ty.    

By pure randomness while writing, I typed in Akeda while searching for a picture of the aforementioned Akita.  A random link posted – The Binding of Isaac.  These words were never planned to be published, but in the event of the subject hour, I decided to re-shift my attention to this random path.  And this is truly a subject that I think is random – Religion.  A topic I seldom like to discuss. 

I have not read any Religious passages in detail, with the exception of the Tao Teh Ching.  As mentioned, I’ve picked and prodded, but this random link to the Akita led me to Akeda, which led me to the Binding of Isaac.

Genesis 22 / Hebrew – English Bible / Mechon-Mamre

The passage begins with a word from God, requesting the sacrifice, or slaughter, of a man’s only son. 

The passage continues with a 3-day travel – the man’s son curiously wondering the final journey – curious to a fault. 

The passage is fearful when at the end of the travel, the man builds an altar, binds his son and lays him upon altar and wood – and the father draws a knife blade. 

The passage is calmed when an Angel appears, a voice of the LORD assuring to the man that it is known that he is God-fearing – and that the sacrifice is not necessary. 

This passage is why I do not understand some Religious beliefs. 

I cannot openly accept that any overseeing power would ask us to sacrifice that which is most previous to us – children - I would never accept to send any of my children to sacrifice. 

I cannot openly lead a child to danger, no matter what the journey – their curiosity needs protecting.

I cannot openly hurt a child.  Never even in my wildest dreams.  If I did – I would consult Freud.

I cannot openly believe in a God that casts fearful doubts of love to his disciples.

There has been much recent controversy surrounding a group of Atheists in London campaigning for the free right to advertise their cause.  For the longest time, I resented their pushy cause for preaching – I don’t need to hear anyone’s Religious beliefs, thank-you.  It wasn’t until recently the other Day, that a random path led me to a discussion which allowed me to realize that they weren’t necessarily preaching, they are getting their fair share of advertisement blitzing.  After all, if a faith that follows passages dictating us to sacrifice our sons is getting radio, TV, and all types of media play – why can’t the Atheists? 

Just to clarify, I don’t consider myself an Atheist.  It was the Tao that taught me that

Names can be named, but not the Eternal Name. 

It was from the Nameless that Heaven and Earth sprang

 Nameless and Eternal sounds find to me.  

The Shot Heard Round the World

Bobby Thomson... up there swingin'... He's had two out of three, a single and a double, and Billy Cox is playing him right on the third-base line... One out, last of the ninth... Branca pitches... Bobby Thomson takes a strike called on the inside corner... Bobby hitting at .292... He's had a single and a double and he drove in the Giants' first run with a long fly to center... Brooklyn leads it 4-2... Hartung down the line at third not taking any chances... Lockman with not too big of a lead at second, but he'll be runnin' like the wind if Thomson hits one... Branca throws... [audible sound of bat meeting ball]

There's a long drive... it's gonna be, I believe...HEEEY-OH!!!'' 

Warm-up

As you may be able to tell, I love numbers and equations - carry the 3 to the C, balance the S and voila - molar balance!  I think it all started with baseball.  The timeless pastime.  When America was new and ignorance was bliss, simply playing a game of theque, la balle au baton or the later evolved, Gaelic game Rounders, baseball involved all the blissful disregard for your surrounds as any good pastime could.   

With such a beautiful pastime dedicated to the outdoors, we felt invincible.  And when we feel invincible, we seek challenges - you think you're better than me?  Oh we'll see....  

Statistics started it all.  I nearly flunked out of statistics in school.  It was partly due to the early class time, and also partly due to 'future-telling' aspect to it all.  I didn't want to know the future, or what the likelihood or probability of a distribution analysis tells me - I don't get it now and I didn't get it then.  I don't think I ever want to understand it.  But numbers I do like.  Baseball statistics I do like.  RBIs, RISP, OBPS - all these statistics to try to be able predict the future.  A gambler's wet dream.  

I fell into the baseball statistical dream - I collected cards, compared stats and marveled in the capability of a grown man reacting so fast that he could hit a 98 mph fastball into the heavens...

First Pitch

You dig in, eye down the pitcher - it's just you and him.  No one around you.  You've got to focus on his release point, is he throwing a curveball this time?  I hope it's not a change-up - fuck it, i'm gearing up for a fastball, crap here it comes get ready....And in a sudden rush of senses, the world around you opens up.  You hear the crack of the bat, the cheer of the crowd and as if a lifetime has just passed, the thousands of fans strong, stand up to their feet.   "Run you fat sonuva bitch! Run"   the crowd bellows in a strange unison.  You dig your feet in further, round first base and you are as attentive and fast as a Gazelle escaping from it's prey...  you can smell third base.  As you touch second, you can hear the crowd roar louder - they feed you unnatural portions of adulation and praise - run faster!  You peek through the corner of your eye to see that the throw from the outfield was accurate and on pace - this is gonna be a close one!!!  You see your target, your mentor, your trust is in sight - your coach!  He's yelling at you too, and with all of the thousands of voices, his is the only one you hear now - DIVE!!!  You leap from your feet, flying like superman - the Great Corrupted Rose, into third base - falling face first into the soft earth - you taste the dirt and dust but keep your concentration - blindly feeling for that safe haven - third base.  You feel a sharp 'tag' on your shoulder, with a vicious bite to dislocate, but you first felt the sweet touch of third base.  The dust settles amongst the war zone, the crowd on the edge of their seats waiting for the Gladiator's judgement.  Out of the panic and chaos, a voice bellows: SAAAAAYYYYFFFEEE!!!  The crowd cheers.  You dust yourself off.  The adrenaline still pumping - you are the hero of the moment.

Connection

I loved baseball.  I don't anymore.  In the midst of rising revenue and popularity, immediately following the season which saw the World Series winner come from a team that calls home outside of the U.S. for the second consecutive year, a labour strike happened.  The Montreal Expos were having their best season in franchise history, but the players locked the doors.  No fans, no sport, no adulation, no dice.  It all stopped.  Over what?  Money of course.  Some collusion and closed door politics of soon-to-be commissioner Bud Selig.  

Rounding First

The strike cancelled the first world series since 1904.  For nearly 90 years, these players and owners and fans got along to cheer together.  And now that was destroyed.  The next year, after an earthquake in L.A., a genocide in Rwanda, and an aircrash in Pittsburgh, and in the midst of tragedy in Oklahoma on April 19, 1995, a nation forgave it's beloved past time.  Stadiums were re-opened, loyalties renewed.  Baseball was back - and seemingly better.

Injected with Cupid's Arrow

Born July 2, 1964 in Havana, Cuba, Jose Canseco found his way out of his native country, and into the land of the free, the United States of America.  After some education in Miami, Canseco was drafted right out of highschool by the Oakland A's.  After some time in the minor hitting 500ft "looters", Canseco burst into the MLB scene - hitting 33 HRs and 117 RBI's - amazing statistics for a 22 year old!  A year later, his close friend and co-patriate in the Bash Brothers, Mark McGwire, the great American Lumberjack, burst onto the scene - clobbering 49 HRs and shattering the rookie record.   

At the time of the healing, Canseco was struggling to revive his career after injuries due to knuckleheadedness (like coming into pitch the 8th inning and blowing your shoulder out), but McGwire, was just starting to find his groove - clobbering 39 HRs in 319 AB - quite a feat.  Baseball was back!  

Rounding Second

Pressing the fast forward button 4 years later - and after the mourned the death of a princess, hunger in the Sudan - earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, cyclones and hurricanes around the world - we're back - baseball again.  The glorious HR Chase.  For decades, Roger Maris' record stood there as a timeless piece of art.  Maris broke the record in a mystical fashion.  He was in the proverbial 'zone' for an entire season.  Breaking the great Babe Ruth's record.  *61.  McGwire, in the season of 1998 - was on such a pace as well - and what a pace it was.  All told, he hit 70 - shattering another record.  

At the same time of this year, whispers were starting to roar - what is androstenedione?  Hmm... a steroid precursor.  Why would McGwire need a steroid precursor?  

Tripping on Third Base

Fast forward 3 years later - the siege at Columbine - Flight 990 fell- Y2K crazed us - and the great magic before our very eyes - Barry Bonds.  I remember I had his trading card when he first came into the MLB.  Skinny kid, slender, you could see he was fit, like he could run like a gazelle and throw like a catapult.  But in 2001 he was different.  He had a mechanical arm attached from his right forearm to his bicep, wrapped around his elbow.  His neck was bigger, so was his head, so were his legs, so were his arms, so were his veins, so were his eyes, so was his hunger.  He was chasing down a record - the fabled story of McGwire's past.  One October night - Barry Bonds launched #73 into the air - the crisp Autumn air accepted his gifts and charted a path to the heavens.  

Slidding into Home

One final stop on this trip to heaven - 2007 - Gorrila killing ebola was the new plague - Mosque bombings were happening in Iraq, Russians were being poisoned, Saddam was executed, aids feverishly devoured parts of Africa and the U.S. troops surged - Virginia Tech cried and Larry King interviewed Paris Hilton - and Barry Bonds was immortalized.  In a sport that brought racial segregation to it's knees with the introduction of Jackie Robinson, Barry Bonds could now be classified as that.  Or could he.  By 2007, Canseco had released a book, pointing the needle of rampant steroid use across the plains of America's pastime.  Eloquent in it's design, is depicted a story and timeline - click on the As It Happened Tab.

Barry is being blamed.  Barry is being bruised.  Barry is being battered.  Barry brought this upon himself.  

Alex will be the white knight.  Alex was a teenage phenom - and continues to be an adult phenom.  Hyped as the next latin american hero to challenge the battered and bruised ego of baseball, Alex was going to save it all.  He was squeaky clean - not too big, not too small -  the perfect specimen for baseball - that was Alex.  

He's Out!

We now sit at 2009 - second month, February.  Alex Rodriguez has tested positive for steroid use.  For baseball, this is a dark day.  For the U.S. has lost it's way in it's pastime.  Baseball is lost.  Salaries are too high.  Drug use is rampant.  Collusion of greed is occurring.  And Pharmaceutical companies continue to break Laws in generating these illegal substances.  If anything that the U.S. Congress should step into to do, is to expose this rampant corruption in baseball.  There is something wrong when baseball's new hero had to inject himself with corruption.  This is wrong.  

Or Safe?

I want to feel that crack of the bat riding up my arm again - I want to breathe the grass and sun and drink the beer that baseball defines.  I loved it once, I can love it again.  

Dayman

I normally start my day off in a haze. Stuck in that conscious awe I spoke of earlier. I used to wake up to blaring music. Not anymore - I get to pick when I wake up now. It takes a while to get me out of that zombie state, but if I cook bacon - wowza, I'm alive. If I were to wake up to a smell, it would probably be to bacon.  

Fighter of The 

The nightman cometh and he taketh away

I used to work for a corporate minded company. Run like the military - everyone communicating and cooperating. Human resources were in place to find employees, managers selected the right employees, executives would select the right managers and a board of shareholders selected the right executives. It was when those shareholders that had more power and more say in a company's operation, was when I saw failure. A single mind or entity of minds, shaping the control of an enterprise.

Nightman

This type of enterprise, in my experience, was bad. This type of enterprise has the ability to control production, price, delivery and supply of the materials it creates. If competition is available, perhaps that may subdue to a Bell Curve , but if competition aligns to collude and conspire and continue the entropy of greed, a stratification of income occurs shifting everything to the top like it's climbing a great Egyptian Pyramid.

Champion of the Sun

The food we eat, at some point, is grown. It grows from the earth and sun, we eat it, but we also share with our animals. But then we eat our animals too. These are natural. These are pure. At least I thought they were. I wrote early on as well that I've grown skeptical.

Skepticism is another 'ism'. It makes us wary of a truth we once thought right. When skepticism is reached, I hope that wrong is exposed. What is right and what is wrong.

This is a short film which helps me understand right and wrong (6mins):


と友好のために誰もがマスター空手

Anyways, the food that I put in my mouth, I like to savour. I like to indulge the flavours and devour the satisfaction. When our food is being modified to satisfy other urges than my hunger is wrong. This cannot continue. We need to make this a bigger issue in our consuming lifestyles. What the hell is this tripe that I'm eating?

For some reason, growing up, I got called a naysayer, a whiner, a complainer by people.  At that time, I called them ignorant assholes - and it wasn't until recently that I realized maybe I too am an ignorant asshole.  

Ignorance, is simply a state of floating on a cloud - bliss as i've been told - from ignorance, skepticism is born - where the truth truly exists - as truth exists, true ethics can be instilled, taught, learned, with the benefit of developing true principles.  When I see colluding forces whirling up entropic storms, their destruction of my blissful cloud will cause it to rain and evaporate.  But then again, it's always sunny in philadelphia.  

A Rainy Day Note

To those who know me personally, they've known that I haven't really been employed for roughly a month now. I haven't earned an livable income in the new year - but I suppose i've also lived like a squirrel. Stuffing goods away for that rainy day.

Retirement

I took some time off in the summer and fall of 2007. This was my first stint of retirement. Previous to that, I had been 'slavin away at a desk. I went to school, got an education and went to work - fullfilling my duties. Over that summer I relaxed, saw two oceans and witnessed a lifetime pass. It was also an education. I thought. I read. I concocted.

My first idea was to grow jerusalem artichokes. These things are amazing and apparently tasty. I started a small garden and am still waiting to see them grow to their full potential.

My next idea was to go back to work - it had been a fortifying 5 months and all, but to re-retire, I figured I needed to stash a few more nuts away. This first un-retirement brought me into a world of ideas - the latest cutting edge technology in fossil fuel extraction and combustion techniques, complete with emission abatement. What I discovered were plenty of ideas floating around - contactors, absorbers, membranes, surfactants, catalysts, all these processes in a chemists' wet dream! The solution is there - not perfected yet - but with time and spending - a solution will emerge.

Faster, Bigger, Stronger

What I had grown to notice however, was a race for product development with pure strategic interests in mind. Patents were flying at me left right and centre, and couldn't understand this rat race. I always questioned, why are these ideas so protected? Are they providing a map to the Fountain of Youth? In a sense, yes. A lot of the patents were to benefit the environment or health. But the urge to outcompete a rival for the same goal seemed asinine. If the two of us individuals work on this alone, we might individually reap bigger rewards in the end - I may win and you may lose. A healthy competition. But at the same time, I may lose and you may win - that didn't seem all that great. I wondered, if we both work on this together, we both reap the rewards. We both also may lose, but at the same time, two minds are better than one and our chances for success would be better right? Well, I suppose my thoughts weren't all that accepted. And as it now stands, the idea may be at a standstill and I am out of work.

Re-Retired

Unemployed. To me, this has such scary conotations. Unemployed. Like it's shameful to be unemployed. But after all of the bullshit i've seen while working - I stopped caring about being employed. I haven't worked for a month, but I've been enjoying my time getting to know people and thinking. I'm not worried. My time off this past month has taught me not to worry. I'll survive somehow. For some reason I can't throw away food. Even if it's grown new legs, for some reason I like to eat left-overs. It's that Independent George in me spotting the floating chocolate eclair. A wasteful mind is a wasteful thing I guess.

Renewed

I think i'm starting to figure a few things out now. It might be my mind wandering too much, but the peaceful silent times I enjoy are there. In the midst of the peaceful times, i've come to enjoy peaceful documentaries such as Wild China, Himalayas, Life of Mammals and Planet Earth. Every once and a lot I enjoy some crack, in the form Sunny Philadelphia - a profile of asinine behaviour. It causes my head to blow up in laughter here and there.

Noted

Anyways, this was simply a post of my past years and recent weeks lived. Valentines is coming up, but I'm not big on Valentines, so I don't think I'll post a blog on consumerism again - I'm getting tired of 'isms' lately. But simply wanted to post a thank you note for the unemployment.

Getcha Popcorn Ready

Superbowl's over with - reach deep into those couch cushions and find some leftover popcorn for this - 1hr 49mins:

Principles and Ethics

Everyone's got 'em.  Ethics help us decide what is right and what is wrong.  Principles are formed when we later review our ethics, and determine if they were indeed, the right choice in retrospect.  

I've studied ethical behaviour.  Just a fly on the wall, observing from afar.   At times, the overlords would swat, telling me to go do something, or be somewhere else.  I obliged.  I didn't want to get stomped on or anything - I was fearful.  Mostly I was fearful that I may lose my job.  I did like that job at times - mostly the people around me.  But after mindlessly obliging for a period of time, I kept observing and observing, finally noticing a true corruptness be created - greed.   They kept pulling and pulling on me to devise a set of lies that led to the profitable venture for an enterprise - that was purely built on lies.  This, along with my activities, were purely theoretical electromagnetics - but if we showed we could do it a little - imagine the spectacular speculation!  

I got sick shortly thereafter.  Very sick.  I spent a week soaking in a tub to hold back the vomit.  Literallly.  Food tasted bad, I couldn't keep anything down - even water - I lost patches of hair - I was literally withering away to nothing - I was sick.  

Figuratively, my sickness happened at the aforementioned job months before my actual sickness.  My wonderful thoughts strayed to, why is this happening - what are they doing, is this right?  Is this wrong?  Is this right, is this sinister?  Is this right or is this left?  I don't know which way to go!!! I finally was pushed to the edge when they decided to ignore my melting pot - the environment.   A batch of oil went off into the forest - if a forest falls in the woods - does anyone really hear it?  Unfortunately, I did.  In a figurative sense, the tree fell on me.  

I left that job for a period - sick of what I saw and what I did.  I gave up on my dream job to richness and wealth.  At that point, I had to start my own.  My own path with my own definitions.  My ethics and principles may be different from yours, but I know we're both right, on some level.  

Manbags and Berets

It follows suit that one week after the new moon, all the crazies come out.  I was at the grocery store buying some ingredients for a delicious chicken with tarragon, ginger, coriander, red chilies, stock, onions, cilantro, ghee, coconut milk and garlic, and I caught myself appreciating the organization of it all.  All doing our part to get our food and personal effects - then I noticed the crazy guy.  Tucked away in the corner of the deli section, picking out samosas - he just budges the line.  He went around the line up formed and found a clerk and got the desired samosas, ahead of like, 3 waiting customers... what an asshole that guy is - wearing his green beret all proudly of sorts.   I didn't see him again in the grocery store, but this guy decided he was going to cut the rules that 'normal' folk abide to, just to get his way...  asshole.  Then again, I've got to admit, I admired his contempt for the rules, his finding of a solution to his impatience of waiting in a line, and his acting on it.   Maybe he was just a good actor?

Anyways, a few days back, I was approached by a local 'beggar', or a street-person.  Where I reside, the people living in the streets in the depth of winters still work.   They peruse the back alleys to pick, prod and recycle any valuable material.  Old phone?  New bottle?  Sweaters?  Crazy huh? 

Spare Change

Some decide to pray on more aggressive tactics.  Some approach without reserve, complete strangers requesting the infamous: "Spare Change".  

"The homeless first started arriving in Evergreen about 3 months ago. At first they were only a few of them, asking for change, sleeping in the parks. But then more showed up. And we realized there was something different about them. They fed off of our change to the point that they could actually start renting apartments. We knew it wouldn't be long before the homeless actually started buying homes. And then we'd had no idea who is homeless and who wasn't. People living in the house right next door to you could be homeless and you wouldn't even know. Nobody could trust anybody. Fights broke out, war! That's when I starting suspecting my own wife, who I'd be living with for 20 years, was actually homeless. So I had to burn her, in her bed, while she slept. After she died, I vowed I wouldn't let the homeless destroy our town. So we came up with a plan to get rid of them once and for all. " - South Park (Night of the Living Homeless), 2007

So, the above quote came from an episode of a sick and twisted cartoon parody show, which warp young minds to points of immaturity, or craziness.  It's creators are two crazy entrepreneurs that came up with a paper cutout animation design and decided to parody society, pop culture, religion and politics with unique satire.  Sometimes brilliant, sometimes moronic, sometime insane.  Or is insanity imaginative?  It was Einstein who said insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.    But then again, we do know Einstein was imaginative, or maybe he was just insane and trying to protect himself... hmm...

Accessorizing

So this guy was wearing this green beret, and I thought to myself - who the hell would wear a green beret?  Isn't that a bold statement?  Like a man carrying a man-purse, or a wearing flip-flops with socks... I don't really understand.  Flip-flop sandles let me show off my feet - and let me tell you, sometimes I like to gaze at my feet.  But to put socks on 'em?  Not putting on shoes with socks tells me your a little lazy and didn't want to tie your shoes... Lazy-assed crazy!  Then the man-purse...  I suppose, besides the obvious weird attention I would probably get on the street, is that I don't like to carry alot on my person.  I never understood carrying shit in my pockets.  Keys, gum, credit cards, money, ID, spare change.  I hate carrying it all in my pockets.  I do understand that a man-purse would solve all of those problems, plus Jack Bauer carried a man-purse in exciting Season 5 of the hit TV show 24.  But I've been accustomed to carrying my backpack - almost all places I go.  Sure it may not look the professional-type like the acclaimed attache case, but my backpack can carry everything I want.  What I don't want often and don't keep in my backpack is spare, or loose change.  In a generation that typically pays between $10 - $100 an outing, I do go out and spend this amount.  By the end of the day, with all of my shopping with cash, I have a pocket of loose change that I contemplate what to do with.  Do I give it to the beggar?  He may be on the street because of addictive paths...  Do I keep it?  It just collects dust in my change bottle - although I do end up saving a good $200 - 300 per year that way.  

Recipe for Disaster

My loose change is often unwanted.  I do find a few worthy homeless that I donate this loose change to.  I once took some leftover Crab Bisque to a homeless man in downtown Chicago.  They seem in need.  

I'd like to one day run an experiment - a social experiment in a sense.  Perhaps a little to do with psychiatry, but mostly to see what consequence an action brings.  I'd like to approach my neighborhood corner store or grocery store, and discuss the possibility of leaving a small glass jar for loose change that would be put in place to start a homeless fund.  By the evening has set, the change will be collected, and be entrusted that it is going to a legitimate purposeful cause.  

This purposeful cause, explained, is the collection of materials and lumber, the construction of a facility, small in size at first, but with room to grow, followed by the collection of more materials, food and room.  Those that come into the shelter would be fed.  Those that have eaten too much will be turned away.  But it will start this way.  As more room grows, an office can be set up.  Perhaps a small program like this could get some help.  Perhaps a doctor of psychology or therapy can step into that office.  There to listen, to provide advice, or to provide prescription.  The doctor would not be there to pass judgement, the path that has led to those that come cannot be traced - it is a diverse world.  But if even one or two or three of these individuals can be helped in any way, the doctor may be the solution.  After a bit of growth and healing grace of the doctor, a room can be built.  Cots, blankets, heat and warmth.  A shelter from the cold hard winters, the rains, the sleets and the snow that embitters even the great Postmen - men with blue berets and man-purses.  

Empty Tank

How much can you really buy with $0.71 cents.  I can't even buy a gallon of gasoline for that much.

The experiment hasn't begun yet.  I just need the motivation.  What am I doing tomorrow... hmm... I hope I'm not homeless soon... I do have my pop bottle full of change and plenty of pockets...  Maybe i'll adjust that beret a bit and put down my man-purse.