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Rant Some

September 17, 2012

It’s called a free-write when you just sit down and let your fingers do the thinking, disconnecting your brain from the writing process. You’re not supposed to edit your spelling or grammar and you’re not supposed to stop. Stopping means you’re thinking. Editing means you’re worried someone might read what you’ve written. That’s not what a free-write is about. The function of a free-write is to come up with ideas. Now, this is a little different because I fully intend to publish this piece of writing on my blog-site – straight from my brain to yours – and I can’t help but correct typos on the way. It’s how I’m wired. Also, I’m eating cheese and crackers and that’s its own interruption.

So. It’s ten-twelve at night and I should be heading to bed, but today I drank iced coffee with lunch, which means I’m not the least bit tired and won’t be for hours. I could probably last through an entire movie, to my daughter’s delight. Earlier this evening, after putting her to bed, I called my sister – my nephew Kane answered and we told jokes and riddles. Most of mine came from The Hobbit, the scene where Gollum first meets Bilbo Baggins. At one point Eva hollered from her bedroom “Hobbit!” I started whispering; she was obviously straining to hear every word of the conversation. It reminds me of my own childhood; I’d lie in my loft for hours before falling asleep, listening to my parents in the living room. If they were on the other side of the house I’d visit my dream world instead. This is what it looked like:

Myself, Thomas and Timmy Takeshita, and Villy Negre (three boys from St. Anthony I played with after school while waiting to be picked up) were superheroes. The particular heroes we resembled were from a toy franchise popular in the 80’s known as MASK. I was Stiletto. There was another power we all had: when we went to a toy store, all we had to do was touch a toy and it would be copied and transported immediately to our houses. We all lived in our own houses (with secret entrances, of course) in a section of my family’s yard known as Berry Corner. I don’t remember much of what we did during those late-night dream adventures, but I visited that world almost every night for years. Obviously I was being put to bed far too early, but I can’t blame my parents because waking me up in the morning was never an easy task.

My dad would come in – the first time – and say “Bo, it’s UP-time!” and I’d groan and roll over in bed. The second time he’d turn on the light to my loft. It was on a three-way switch which I could reach with my foot. Then he’d turn on the main room’s light; I got very good at throwing a stuffed animal down the ladder such that it would graze the wall exactly where the light switch was and turn it off. Well dad, karma has finally kicked in: now I have to wake Eva up in the mornings and it can be just as hard.

Actually today went well. My cats helped. And she enjoyed her morning shower so much that tonight she asked if she could take another one tomorrow morning, to which I replied ‘yes, if you get up early enough.’ Wow! She asked to take a shower! This means two things: 1) she is awesome, and 2) I don’t shower enough and am setting a bad example. When I was a kid I caught a lot of flak for the fact that my name is spelled B.O. and my initials are B.M.: Body odor and bowel movement, thanks a lot parental units! Well, I’ve matured a little; I won’t make a stink about it. It was much worse during the Bo Jackson years. Bo knows this, Bo knows that… It didn’t help that I was a dead ringer for Doogie Howser. Ugh. However, recently I received a much higher compliment in being compared to Heath Ledger. Sir Oric von Lichtenstein at your service!

This is the moment during meditation when you realize that you’re not meditating; you’re thinking about something. I’ve lost my train of non-thought and am wondering where to go from here. For some reason it reminds me of Mrs. Jacqueline Arante, a former writing teacher who spent 90% of class time telling stories. She didn’t teach lessons. She assumed we were doing our requisite reading in the textbook and thought our time could be more valuably spent learning from her life stories. It may have worked. Similarly, I’ve found it unnecessary lately to come up with a ‘modern pioneering’ slant on my blogs. Instead I just want to share my life with the world, with you, and let you take from it what you will. Am I special or something? We all are, which (as some kid points out in some movie I don’t remember at the moment) is just another way of saying nobody is. I don’t have delusions of grandeur. But I do think I have a take on American culture that’s different from the norm, and valuable. It comes in part from growing up in the country in Hawaii, raised by hippie parents. It comes in part from foregoing the accepted route of education upon finishing high school. It comes in part from taking LSD and mushrooms in my teens and early 20’s and seeing beneath the veneer of this reality we’re trapped in. But most of all it comes from intuition. I don’t know why I do the things I do, but when I’m on the right path I know it. I may try to justify my actions with words and rationalizations, but as often as not they confuse both those around me and myself. It’s not until events reach fruition that true understanding is achieved.

I am a philosopher. An explorer. It matters not that I’m charting waters duly mapped by thousands of years of like-minded individuals. Nothing may be new under the sun but there’s always a unique way of expressing it. If even one person gains a glimmer of truth from my writings then it’s been worth it. Hopefully my perspective will reach its own fruition and have a life beyond mine. Don’t we all want to be remembered? At times I’ve felt like my work on this earth is to survive beyond the end of the world in order to spread a new mythology amongst the survivors, but perhaps my words can do that work without me. Apocaloptimism indeed. Look it up.

It feels good to just let go sometimes. Like I said, put your brain on pause and let your fingers do the thinking. Who knows where they’ll go when left to their own devices? When was the last time you let some other part of your body lead? I’m not talking about your reproductive organs, people – though there’s merit there as well. Your heart, your hands, your hunches… nourish them. That’s it, I’m done, I’ve said my piece; the rest is up to you. What are you waiting for?

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From → Rants

4 Comments
  1. Brandon permalink

    Thanks for the non-thoughts, Bo! Fun read!

    • Hey Brandon, thanks for reading! It’s great to stay in touch… night before last Eva dreamt that your family hadn’t left town. She hasn’t been able to stop talking about that dream and how she wishes it was true. She’s doing well though, branching out to playing other activities at recess with other friends. Take care, brother! -Bo

  2. Prana permalink

    Funny yet deep!

    • Hey Prana! It looks like I get to install a speaking tube between two bedrooms in my next remodel! Those were the days…

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