inherently different

I don’t hold anything sacred. Seriously. Nothing immediately comes to mind that I’d get offended by. Everyone has opinions and even if those opinions differ greatly from what I believe, I won’t think less of you or get angry at you because you disagree with my position.

I can have a heated discussion/argument about religion, politics, race, culture, war, homelessness, baseball, football, art, or literature with you without becoming angry even if we fail to find common ground on that particular topic. I mean, we’re all more than just a collection of opinions and no one opinion should cause you to dislike someone.

My blog is probably one of the few places you can voice your honest opinion, no matter how misguided, and I won’t delete your comments. Ever. You can call me names, write in all caps, question my heritage, heck, club baby seals, and I won’t care. I won’t even close comments to avoid an argument or decline someone the opportunity to challenge my beliefs. I think that open discourse is important even if it makes you uncomfortable. I know others don’t feel the same way and have seen fellow bloggers close their comments when things get out of hand or people start resorting to their base instincts. I don’t fault them that, but wouldn’t ever resort to those tactics in order to keep the illusion of peace. Even if, by some miracle, you manage to make me angry, I find it too much fun to find ways of getting under your skin to close comments.

I’ve often held unpopular opinions, but I won’t be offended if you don’t see things the same way I do. For instance, I think terrorism is cowardly, but understand the philosophy behind it. Say what you will about islamic extremists, but they at least are willing to do what their enemy is not in order to achieve their goals. I would imagine that if the US resorted to the same tactics as the terrorists, few such organizations would risk attacking US interests.

Another example of my unpopular views include politics. George W. Bush is about as inept a leader as this country has ever had. He says the wrong things, at the wrong time, to the wrong people, but he isn’t the anti-christ. Laying all this country’s problems at his feet is about the dumbest thing I think normally intelligent people can do. It gives him way more power than he deserves and much more than he actually has. When I see people attack his policies, all I can do is shake my head in confusion. I know people will seek the path of least resistance, often shutting out reason, in search of the answers for difficult moral dilemmas, but blaming Bush for the terrorist attacks, the war in Iraq, the massive loss of life in the South in the wake of Hurricane Katrina is just plain simple-minded. Corky from life goes on could present better arguments against Bush’s policies than some of these people. I digress.

I just think censorship is a horrible thing. Since I see things as black and white, I believe that you should have as much right to promote your own views here, however misguided, to lend an air of democracy to this blog.

An excerpt from my novel, “Mother’s Of Invention”

She was born in a two room shack in the middle of the Sonora desert. The daughter of a dirt farmer, she grew up money poor, but family rich. The youngest in a family of eight, she dreamed of the bigger and better things her older siblings seemed willing to leave unimagined. The character-building found through struggle was not in line with her plans and the sooner she could break free, marrying the first man who showed more than a passing interest if she had to, the better off she’d be. For the whole first half of her life wished to find some time to be alone, away from her smothering family.

I would imagine that she’d take it all back if she had known what being alone was really all about. Dying is bad enough. Dying alone is infinitely worse.

After I received the phonecall, I sat, numb, in the kitchen. I wondered what it was that she was thinking in those last few moments. Was she engulfed by the notion that time has run out to right her wrongs? Did she feel remorse for the path she’d taken through life? If there was a god in heaven, she found her answers staring back from the abyss of eternity.

There was never a question about whether or not I would attend the funeral. I owed her less than nothing, but it was not out of indifference to her existence and her demise that kept me far away on that day. It wasn’t even that I could not go and pretend I knew, or cared for her, in a way that only sons can know, and care for their mothers.

I’ve spent a lifetime surrounded by people who feel that forgiveness frees the spirt. I disagree. It’s the weight of anger that keeps us grounded. Of course, anger wasn’t the reason either.

A few months ago my downstairs neighbor passed away. I lived above him for 12 years, but knew little about him. I didn’t go to his funeral either. Compared to my neighbor, I knew even less about my mother. Who she was or even what she was were questions that were not readily answered. Everyone who knew her before I did was dead and buried. Except my father and when it came to my mother, his perception couldn’t be trusted.

I believe that my father knew less about my mother than even I did. He still loved her, though. For what it was worth, he never loved another woman in quite the same way. Mostly because my mother knew how to ruin men in such a way as to render them completely useless to any woman who had to follow in her wake.

To further justify my review of the new Nine Inch Nails album, you can listen to With Teeth free right here courtesy of the Monkey Diaries. While the sound quality of my little player pales in comparison to what you’d get if you downloaded the entire album from a p2p network, you’ll still get an idea of what the album is like without having to fear the heavy hand of the RIAA slapping your happy ass like a pimp putting the beatdown on one of his tricks. Enjoy.

As hard as it is to believe, sometimes being outside, even on Maui, isn’t a good idea. The sun hangs over your head like a guillotine just waiting for you to stick your neck out. At those times, you find indoor pursuits that offer relief from the heat and the tourists. A good place to do that is in a theater. Not only are theaters here on Maui free from tourists, they’re usuallly free from locals as well.

Yesterday, the Red Queen and I took in Kung Fu Hustle and spent a good portion of the experience bent over at the waist, laughing uncontrollably. Possibly one of the best films released this year, second only to Sin City, I suggest you make your way out to catch this film if you haven’t already.

In other news, I picked up a copy of the new Nine Inch Nails CD, With Teeth. Amazing. Everytime I think Trent Reznor has plumbed the depths of musical mayhem, he turns around and shows me there is still a long way to go before we see the long downward spiral of his talent. With Teeth has amazing depth both muscially and lyrically and shows us that the 6 years between this album and the last were spent finding yet another level above where he last left us. Dave Grohl, ex-Nirvana drummer and current Foo Fighter frontman, lends his drumming skills and they fit as naturally as if he was in the band from day one.

Along with the radio friendly Hand That Feeds, other notable tracks include the quiet, yet blistering All The Love In The World, The Collector showcasing how perfect the hammer and anvil drumming of Dave Grohl fits within the Nine Inch Nails universe, Only which is possibly the closest NIN will ever get to playing with a pop sensibility, and finally, Right Where It Belongs where Trent shows us that he is still capable of mixing random sounds together to create beautiful noise. I give this album 10 out of 10.

“I’m built for comfort, I’m built for speed, got everything a good girl needs!”

Those are the lyrics to a modern blues song written by Ry Cooder and performed by Joe Seneca for the movie Crossroads. I’m a fan of The Blues in case you didn’t know. I like The Blues for many reasons, but the main being that it is sheer honesty set to music. It is the only music that tells the truth about life in all its low down and dirty incarnations. It is when I forget how hard life is that I look to The Blues to remind me that I’m just one knucklehead among millions who doesn’t know shit.

I’m not whining, just trying to clear the air about the idea that you can be built for comfort AND built for speed. Unlike the song, reality doesn’t always allow for a happy medium. I started a blog with the idea of updating everyday, come hell or highwater. I managed to stick to that schedule for a time… at least until life interceded.

Granted, my regular freelance gig did its best to throw a wrench into the works, but that wasn’t the reason why I’m always late coming to the table. I blame The Brady Bunch.

I know what you’re saying right now…”What does a television show have to do with E’s inability write something for his blog on a daily basis?” Good question. Um… er, its like this:

I was a latchkey kid and television was my babysitter for much of the early and late seventies. I found the inspiration for the life I wanted to lead sandwiched between 30 second spots for Calgon and Mr. Clean. One of the shows that kept me from robbing old ladies and pimping hoes was the Brady Bunch. This fucking family went everywhere from the Grand Canyon, where they befriended some blood-thristy savages dressed in denim, to Hawaii, where they found themselves cursed by Vincent Price. I’ve since spent a good portion of my life trying to recreate their adventures.

That’s really how I ended up in Hawaii. Though Vincent Price is long gone, I thought that there might still be a few curses that I haven’t been introduced to yet. A tiki carved from lava stone has nothing on a spurned girlfriend looking to shower you with paternity suits. Again, I digress.

The idea that you can be both comfortable and quick is completely untrue. I’d like to think that the latest incarnation of the Monkey Diaries is built for comfort, but since I update once or twice a week at best, I’d have to say I can forget speed. Like the saying goes, you can do something right or you can do something right now, but not both. I could write quickly and post more frequently, but then there would be nothing special about my little missives. Somewhere along the line, I had to decide which was more important. Comfort won.

But that isn’t such a bad thing. I could be like many other bloggers out there and post pictures of cats eating, or babies smiling, or worse yet, cats eating smiling babies, but I don’t do that. No bad poetry… er, while I’m on this subject…

You are not a poet. Your poetry sucks. If your name isn’t Dr. Suess, William Wordsworth, or Lord Byron, you’re just a poser and the world would be better off if you just keep your inane rambling to yourself.

I feel better. Anyway, as I was saying it could be worse, but because I care about you, my audience, I control the urge to be average.