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Turn on that 2nd Stereo (or d.A.D.D.)

“Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties”
-Erich Fromm

“Well, its my old friend the future again; continually restoring the old face; reacquainting it with that which has yet to be.”
-Sun City Girls

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oh no, dad took over the drawing table again

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my block stacking ability hints at the repressed desires of an would-be architect

Though I have never been diagnosed with any attention issues, I am willing to spend time arguing about how boring things are and how much more engaging and exploratative conversation can be when jumping from subject to subject and back. Even regarding learning I find that when we leave the matters open to constant slight tangents, we make the interaction of learning more relevant and meaningful, no matter how silly the tangent may seem…. may be I would even argue that schools are failing (in the most generalized, agreed upon sense) because they are boring rather than the students home lives are hyper-stimulated through electro-media.

Anyvays….I find the constant juggling of roles and responsibilities, or the metaphorical spiraling of day-to-day engagements best handled when having the space and ability to jump from interest to interest. I say that cause I have this functional vision of spinning through a vortex of relationships, engaging with my partner, my 9 year old, my toddler, my friends, my work, my projects, my father and sister, as well as with food, drink, intoxicants, and all the other funk. I find this visualization useful cause it acknowledges the cyclic reality of habit structures. If I feel like if I was un-engaging in any of my relationships, I can address it again soon. I also see the day like this, as if our brains are spinning like the earth, handling our biz while we face the sun, until we spin some more and switch conscious states towards rest.
Some projects, I dream up with no realistic sense or situation of achieving them, for now, and they drift off into some future time when the conditions or necessary partners comes into site, often through some long drawn out triggering of unknown trajectories…

All that’s just some blab bout the manifestation of ideas and the patterns of necessary human interactions, I mention it cause we all possess deficits in attention to some things, yet we still go on with our lives and interactions. I may seriously have an attention deficit to paying bills and doing stupid shit. So we define it as a lack in amount or quality, a deficit, that is. It’s latin root describes it as wanting. Attention wanting disorder? So do we lack a want to be Attentive, or do we want to be paid attention too? Either way, my answer is still the same. Shits too boring. I blame the centralization of popular culture and non-development of local relevant culture. But really…I blame that junk for everything.
This is not why I chose to write this, damnit. I am a dad that gets bored getting kids to do boring stuff.

I often turn on a 2nd stereo with music I have picked. That may be what sparked some of this. If you have to turn on a second stereo, you may be easily bored, or your house may not be super stereo wired to kick speakers off and on in different parts of the house and yard. I guess I’m both.

wheres the dad shit? Oh, right. D.A.D.D.
So you know it takes quite some grooming and instruction to get these human types to not piss and shit themselves. Theres no set date or month but it takes almost 3 years to let go of the sweet satisfaction of shitting yourself. Say you pee 5 times a day and poo about once. That’s 1000 shits you are going to take that some other adult person/parent is going to clean off of your junk. About 5,000 bladder drains. And we think we so smart.

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my creativity oozing forth through mr. potato head

Ahem, so uh, as I uh…became a dad, or whatever, haha, uhm. ..
I have my 9yold with a previous partner and we did cloth diapers back then and homebirthed her and gave her, her own last name. With my partner now, we also homebirthed, are doing cloth diapers, and gave her the same last name as her sister. When Azs was in diapers, we had a cloth service that would pick up a giant bag of shitty diapers 2 and 3 times a week. It could sit on the doorstep for a few hours in the sun before the diaper fairy would snatch them. I cant imagine why that went out of business. This time around, we are washing them at home in the wash. Its normally no big deal, but we are almost 2 years deep into this and the other day I (hope I) hit one edge of the extremes.

Now when I dad-out or bond with other stay-at-home-moms, we relate on this basic level of dread when discussing the cleaning of diapers. Its mostly left at that, the gory details are left unspoken like the idiosyncrasies of your own bowel movements. I want to point out though, that unless you have hand washed the “fiber,” or the shit off of a dirty diaper in shit water with your bare hands daily, your diaper woes just aint the same.
You can kind of cue in to the behaviors and expressions of your toddlers, develop a pattern of food intake and output, but not always. I think this baby dumps 1 every 21 hours or so. I bring it up to this babe, Indy, and often she responds acknowledging but not excepting.
“Are you wet?”
Defiantly, and definitely, “No.”
“Do you need a diaper change?”
without pause, “No.”
I do not make it a big deal, nor do I reprimand. I’m just aiming for understanding.
You also have night time diaper changes where the parents/partners try to do the least amount of work as possible…often a quick, prepped change, with the soiled shorts finding a temporary home on the floor until morning when you actually admit you have to get up and do things. In between the quick change and the standard changing table change is a giant grey area with a number of variables. Its an extra sketchy situation when two drowsy adults experience a “night poop” and have to be brought form out of a dead sleep and hastily handle wiping unexpected shit off of a sleepy baby.

The other day while moms was scrambling to get dressed, done, and out the door, I dropped the baby onto the bed for a quick change, popped the snaps open to handle one of the quickest changes ever, only to reveal a heap of dark fibrous stank.
Fuck. I panicked and tried to contain the funk within the diaper, yet the baby who was already squirmy, quickly smacked her hands into it.
“Ahhh!!! Moma, I need help. Fast” darting to the bathroom, she had already smeared her mud paste onto the sleeves of my light grey sweater and her shirt as well. I felt like I was tasked with disarming a bomb and it had already gone wrong. Red wire, green wire. Fuck! I’m holding a shitty diaper with the surface spread of a half jar of chunky peanut butter, an irritated baby with a contagious stanky funk coating her grasp, wearing a contaminated sweater, feeling like a helpless confused puritan unable to fathom the next step towards soul sanitation. I was caught cursing the function of processing organic matter and our desire to shit ourselves. I doubt I could have handled this shitty situation if moms hadn’t grabbed the baby and threw her into the tub. Finally, sense was restored in the universe and this disastrophe had reached the final scenes.
While I am interested in carrying-on about funny and silly interactions between me and the tiny, we are already 1200 words deep and theres a few diapers I must be washing…

Fuck Your Money

fuck your money

I get between 3 and 10 phone calls a day asking about repaying credit card, student loan, and contractual debts. At times I answer and see if I can make the interaction at least interesting, if not humorous between us. I think its funny, that I’m the only one who ever answers my phone, yet they want to confirm that my address and identity are the same as it was yesterday. I quit answering unless I am in a mood of entertaining or experimenting. Lately, I’ve been answering, and when they ask for me, I say hold on a minute, put them on speaker, and allow them to listen to my music, video, or toddler babble. I figure it’s the least I can do for them. I’m sure their job sucks so any help killing time on the phone is greatly appreciated. It would just be depressing to speak with me about money I don’t have. I’ve asked if they would hire me, tho admittedly, I do not consider debt callers a real job. If people had the money to pay back, and felt obliged to do so, the debt callers job would dissolve. I think another idea would be to invite the caller specifically to invest in whatever new project I have so I could make more money and give it back. Theres’ got to be some debt rider I could convince…

It excited me to hear all the talk about the fiscal cliff… for a multitude of reasons. I mean, what is money but an agreement between peoples tying them together through services and resources. Unfortunately, the printers and regulators of “the money system” have centralized and absorbed much of the energy control systems resources. Not to crack open a can of… wormholes, which, money, really is, lets just say I have a dismal distain for the dismal science. And although I am almost always up for a good discussion on energy control systems and bio-survival tickets (Robert Anton Wilson), unless one is willing to let go of basic economic assumptions, it could be pointless.

Before I delve into details, I want to point out the bias. I understand that I am an able-bodied, intelligent (enough), educated, white male, with no felony charges, in the richest country in the history of reality. I understand that many people the world over struggle for clean water, decent food, warmth, housing, and live off of less than 2 United (states) tickets (I prefer to call fed notes tickets) a day. So, while I may share thoughts on circumstances of perceived struggle, I realize many in other circumstances would really appreciate the level of privilege I have personally as well as we enjoy generally in this country. That being said….

I feel like I am constantly walking along the edge of a fiscal cliff with one foot on the seemingly steady ground of grabbing tickets and the other on the constantly shifting loose sands of ticket takers. There are the systematic routines of paychecks towards rent, bills, and food, and then the less regular (but still almost predictable) routines of house, car, and career maintenance. I don’t have a career, but I like to pretend that my hobbies, oddjobs, and degree, are my career. You get the point right? You can fill in the blanks of my itemized budget. If the general notion rings true, and most people live from paycheck to paycheck, then indeed, most of us straddle a fiscal cliff. I find it not only disempowering, but depressing, disenheartening, and I’m sure theres a dozen other feelings that start with dis, I could name.

Its fascinating to think about corporate giantism, health, economy, pollution, and the industries that got bailed out. Bail the banks? The people and institutions that make money off of money, the bookies and dealers need better odds at the casino? It just seems absurd. The auto industry as well? Automobiles will be our coffins. We are sacrificing the future so we can feed a decaying present. Of course people need to contribute and a livelihood, but back at the auto factory…? And the auto jobs helped swing the re-election? I’m not trying to write an essay about these topics, it just trips me up. Automobile industry and its culture is a suicide pact.

I consider myself underemployed, though anyone doing statistics or asking me for debt probably feels the same way. I am seeking professional work, through whatever sites I can find. I do however prefer to do something rewarding and engaging that will utilize my powers, but I am open for many different things and spend time scouring employment sites, as well as turn in resumes to places that sound promising. Seldom does anything turn up. I make drinks at a local indy coffee shop, do odd graphic design and sewing jobs, as well as assist for an artist, doing graphics work mostly. My hours are somewhat limited because they are intertwined with a partner who works and a baby…but if I could find decent work, I would retire as Mr. Mom and allow mom to assume that role.

On that note, I have to admit, tho I owe more money than I can calculate, I do find it best that I am able to raise my child rather than someone else. She is of course getting older, and I could find time even with a “real job” but I do feel that there is no one better to raise my kid than me. I should probably raise some other kids as well…I just need a space and some funding…

I think its that idea of a real job I find most taunting. You know, something professional, where like my studies and ideas are taken seriously. I mean, I guess I should have thought about getting a job before I got a degree in cultural anthropology… yet theres not many businesses I feel like have any decent work to offer as it is even. This complicates the frustration. While we need tickets to play the games and ride the rides at the carnival, the carnival itself is a carnal, carnivorous, incarnation of carnage.  There is no righteous Empire. There is no equality with billionaires. Too big to fail is the self-calming whispered chant of a wounded Leviathan.

Back to job hunting…