Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program: After the Fire

Yesterday morning, my "new landlord" came over to the apartment I have been happy to end up in after this mini-saga, and pointed beneath the weeds which have overgrown the garden to a narrow path of gravely rock that leads to the back of the garden, where there is a crescent-shaped platform-like area surrounded by low shrubs and a short olive tree that was originally created as a meditation space. Because the house has mostly been inhabited by lawyers since the meditation space was constructed, nobody has ever really used it as a meditation space. Until now.

I kind of spoke about my meditation path a coupla blogs ago; I don't write about it much, or even talk to most of the people in my life about it because it's hard for me to explain. Since the beginning, I have had a difficult time getting my mind to accept many of my teachers' teachings. I've been told that I am "a tough nut to crack". I'm sure many of you reading will agree, I am definetely one tough nut.

So the idea that I've had the hardest time getting my head around after nearly 2 years of meditation is the idea that in order to progress spiritually, one has to surrender one's will or "do-ership". I mean, I can get my head around the idea of ego-surrender to a certain degree... but surrender of one's doership in the world seemed like taking it a step too far, and for me, up until last weekend, completely out of the question; or at least partially out of the question.

We have so many things tied up in our sense of agency in the world. Our hopes, our fears, our expectations. What we think life is supposed to be about. And then we revolve our lives in small orbits around these things. Alternating cycles of success and failure; personal, professional, artistic, athletic, whatever. And we are taught since infancy to measure ourselves against these yardsticks, as if these things could impart to us a sense of who we are and make us whole.

But asking us to give it up, the struggle toward success in the world... the striving... its like telling the rat caught up in the maze that there is no cheese at the end of the game. Your mind tells you that if you give up the race you will be a failure, your options will dwindle, you will be an anonymous nobody with nothing to offer. That is the fear.

I went out to the meditation spot at the back of the garden again this morning and pulled some weeds. Never in my wildest imagination could I have conceived last week that I would be living in a quiet place that had a garden with an outdoor meditation area built-in. My greatest hope as far as my living situation was concerned fell far short of what my present situation has now so gracefully extended.

Everyone knows that fears hold us back. But it occurred to me tonight that it was actually my own hopes and expectations that had kept me from even imagining a situation like this. It occurred to me that maybe the lesson in all this for me is that in asking me to give up my sense of agency in the world, my hopes and ambitions -- the relatively transient things that I use to define myself --my teacher is actually asking me to give up things which limit and keep me tethered and in chains. Perhaps I may stand to gain things my limited imagination cannot yet concieve of.

And now the irony of the lesson is that I have to be ready to give it all up at any moment, everything that has been a tool to teach me this lesson. The lesson is not about cultivating success in the world i.e. having a nice place, or nice stuff in it, or a great job to go to, or trophies, prizes, applause, or other forms of recognition... its about enjoying these for the moment but ultimately recognizing their place in the larger scheme of life as transitory. Mere detail.

Smoking Is Gross

I just got sent this email from my friend and former co-worker Nicole who *used* to smoke and is now sick from it and has found time between vomiting up blood and choking on her inhaler to convince you to stop if you haven't already... Here's what she has to say:


Hey everybody..I know it's been a while since I've been in touch with
many of you. You may or may not now that I've been really sick for the
past several weeks. What started out as a cold became a bronchitis which
became a respiratory infection which culminated in full-blown acute asthma.

*What it's been like*
I had a rough time breathing between massive coughing fits that have
left me weak and dizzy, with a constant headache like I'd been at a
speed metal concert. I wheezed like a creaky rocking chair, and haven't
been able to go to work or socialize much since Xmas. I couldn't sleep
through the night for over a month, which made me even a little more
crazed than usual.

The cough is insane. I've coughed so hard I've peed. I've coughed so
hard I vomited at the table at the Beach Chalet. A couple weeks ago I
had a coughing fit so severe that I when I was done I found myself lying
on the floor, not knowing exactly how I got there...thankfully I was
only out for a moment or two and was at home in my room when it
happened. I'm down to only about a half-dozen coughing fits a day now,
and they are less intense, but still scare anyone in the immediate
vicinity...the gagging, the few loud gasping inhalations it takes to get
my wind back after every one.

It's bizarre to cough like this. Every fit - and I use the word "fit"
with purpose, as it really is like I'm taken hold by something I can't
control - focus my attention on one thing - not panicking. If I panic, I
might pass out again. If I don't panic, I can calm my lungs down enough
to be able to breathe. I work to stay calm when I've coughed out all my
air but can't yet inhale, knowing that in a moment or two, I'll be able
to start with little sips of breath, like those dreams where you can
breathe underwater a little, then be alright.

I've gotten over the intense fatigue, and only sometimes wake myself up
at night.

*What I'm doing about it*
I went on a massive drug regimen (mostly various steroids) to get me
back to a relatively normal state, and it's finally starting to work. I
was on three kinds of steroids, am now down to two. The prednisone
killed my taste buds but they are coming back now that the course is
over. The powder inhaler I take twice a day is very much like sucking
dust into my lungs, and leaves a weird film on the back of my teeth,
like I just ate unwashed spinach. I try to avoid the Albuterol inhaler
as it buzzes me up like bad speed. I am dosing myself sparingly with the
codeine cough syrup, saving it for when I'm really exhausted and need
uninterrupted sleep, or when I know I have to be somewhere public for a
few hours.

(I'm damn lucky I have health insurance now, so that I only had to pay
$60 worth of over $300 in prescriptions for this month and about $500
worth of doctor's office visits & chest X-rays...also lucky that my
company has been really cool about me telecommuting part time from home,
so I've only missed 2 full weeks of work.)

*Adventures in the Outside World*
My purse is now stocked with my inhaler, the cough syrup, Excedrin for
the headbanger headaches, kleenex, and a heavy-duty handkerchief to spit
into when I need to. A blast of exhaust or waft of strong perfume on the
street will still have me doubled over in the middle of the sidewalk. I
can't wear any makeup because my eyes tear up when I cough, and lipstick
smudges every time I reach for the hanky. If I start coughing, I head to
the nearest parking meter or lightpost for support. I'm avoiding driving
a much as possible.
I cough and spit in the street like the old ladies on the 30 Stockton.

I am totally gross.

*The Prognosis*
I was very relieved to find out this week that my X-rays showed no
other, more serious problems, but the fact remains that I now probably
have a permanent health condition from smoking cigarettes. The asthma
may or may not ever go away.

I've felt isolated and scared, worried about working, worried about my
now ongoing health care costs and needs, worried about my dwindling
social life, worried that I have a whole new sensitivity to cleaning
products and fuel and incense and any kind of smoke...and any cloud of
dust. I'm *33 freaking years old*, and probably have done irreversible
damage to my lungs.

*Where You Come In*
I'm not telling you my sob story for sympathy. I don't need any help
(and please no more advice). I'm on my way to getting this acute episode
under control. I will be able to hang out and talk your ear off and get
back to my life soon.

But I am going to ask all of you, smokers and non-smokers alike, for
something very, very hard: I want you all to stop pretending that
smoking is OK.

I tried quitting smoking several times in my life. I was successful for
a year one time, ten months the next, etc. etc., but I always came back
to smoking. It's an addiction, we all know. It's bad for us, we all
know. We do it anyway, because we live in an intense denial that it
won't seriously affect us, that we won't be the ones to get sick, that
nothing can happen until we get old. And we do it anyway, because our
friends do it. We secretly feel annoyed when our friends quit, then we
secretly feel better when they come back to the fold, so we don't have
to feel as guilty about not quitting.

I know that every one of you smokers have thought about quitting. Maybe
it was some hungover morning when you felt like death. Maybe it was some
time where you were the only smoker in the group having to duck outside
in the cold, windy rain. Maybe it was that time you saw your grandpa
with emphysema, or heard about your coworker getting lung cancer. Maybe
it was, it is, all the moments you think about becoming a parent. Maybe
it's every time you pick up someone else's moop-y butt from the playa.
Maybe it's just right now.

I'm begging you, on my knees, steroids in hand, to do it now. Do it
together. Make a pact. No last smoke, no complicated ritual, no saying
goodbye, no hypnosis, no master cleanse...just stop telling yourself and
each other it's OK. Do anything, be it positive or negative
reinforcement, to saturate your consciousness with the realities of
smoking on you, and of your effect on those around you.

Happily gain that dreaded ten pounds - you can lose it later (and let me
tell you, ten lbs is nothing compared to what you gain when you're on
steroids).
Get really agro and snappy with everyone and don't worry about it - you
can apologize later.
Stock up on chewing gum, cinnamon toothpix, and altoids for your oral
fixation.
Keep rubber bands, yo-yo's, those annoying Chinatown clicking-frog
things in your pockets to keep your hands busy.
Turn every nicfit into a make out session with your honey.

Remind yourself that every time a child sees you smoking on the street,
she is receiving a message that smoking is a cool, grown-up thing to do.
Remember that even though you don't smoke in front of your own child,
she will grow up knowing that you do, and thinking it's ok
...and have a 50% higher likelihood of becoming a smoker herself.

Remind yourself that all tobacco companies are ALL OWNED BY RIGHT-WING
REPUBLICANS, EVEN AMERICAN SPIRIT
http://www.reynoldsamerican.com/Who/corp_factbook.asp .
You roll-your-own types, too...Bali Shag may be Canadian, but it's still
right-wing.

Stop hiding behind the fact that no one in your family had health
problems from smoking so you probably won't either -- it's not just
about you. It's about you setting an example for everyone else who
wasn't blessed with your hearty genes.

Think of me, the once-glamtabulous Nicole...picture me doubled over,
choking, red of face, trying not to panic while pulling on breaths like
a rope, hawking up mucus like Neo getting out of the pod in the first
Matrix, then fainting...actually blacking out for a minute before waking
up on the floor with no memory of landing there.

Yeah that's right. Smoking-induced asthma isn't that cute little
wheezing you see on TV, and it isn't immediately helped by sucking on
that cute little inhaler. It's ugly, painful, embarrassing, dangerous,
and gross. And it really could be you.

Denial has put my health at serious risk, and I am *lucky* that it's
*only* asthma I've got right now. I'm considering it a blessing that my
body gave me something terrifying but manageable to get me to deal with
the reality of what I've been doing to myself. I'm asking you all to
face the truth, stop denying what you are doing to yourselves, and love
yourselves enough to give up the immediate gratification of smoking for
a longer, healthier existence.

*All you non-smokers and social smokers*
Stop enabling your friends and lovers to do this to themselves:
Be the bitch, be the dick that steps on your buddies' good time when
they want to smoke.
Throw away their cigarettes when they are not looking.
Let them know when their clothes stink, their breath stinks, their cars
stink, their bodies stink, their hair stinks.
Don't politely suggest breath mints or a change of shirts.
Be annoyed when they need to duck out of a conversation to go smoke.
Tell them you *do* notice their smoker's wrinkles, their ashy pallor,
their enlarged pores.
Give 'em the stink eye *without* makin' it funny.
Don't let them off the hook spending $5 on a pack of cigarettes when
they they haven't bought you flowers or beer this week.
Don't "respect" their needs and personal time.
Don't have that occasional social smoke with them over a drink.
Withhold sex, pancakes, child visitation...whatever will get their
attention.

Don't let them think it's ok for even a second. You have every right to
be irritated, so start exercising those rights. Those of you who already
did this with me - especially Stefanie, Jo, and Rebecca - I'm sorry for
repaying your good sense and concern with resistance and dismissiveness.
Addictions are truly selfish and protective, and mine is no exception.

Everyone - you can do it. I know you can. I will do anything I can to
help you.
Call me so I can cough into your ear.
Let me know you've stopped and I'll make you a badge.
Let me be the voice at the back of your mind nagging you, pleading with
you, strengthening your resolve.

I will be that voice in person just as soon as I am able. It is my goal
to make smoking cigarettes the single most socially retarded thing you
can do. It is the television of social interaction - you are buying into
advertising, corporate malfeasance, image-making, and your own
subjugation as an intelligent, expressionistic individual...no matter
how cool and happy you feel doing it.

Every time you smoke, you may as well be chomping a Big Mac and wearing
sweat-shop Nike's while buying a gun from a homophobe at Wal-Mart to go
be a Minuteman on the Mexico border during a Pro-Patriot Act rally,
because it's the same damn thing...you are helping to keep in economic,
governmental, and societal power the very anti-individuality forces I
know each of you privately and culturally fight.

Plus, you are (sometimes not so) slowly killing yourself.
All of you.
Even you.
Yeah, you.

Thanks for making it to the end of this message. Btw, if you are getting
this, it also means I miss you and am sorry it's taken so long to get in
touch. And to the NY crowd, I'm afraid I have to postpone the spring
trip as I've eaten up all my vacation pay.

~N~

p.s. please feel free to forward this far and wide.

I Don't Even Know What To Call This One

I haven't posted in a few days because on Saturday at 1pm I came home to pick up a few things after my meditation group and found that the house I live in was on fire. I saw the smoke from at least 8 or 9 blocks away but didnt know exactly where it was coming from; for fun I calculated the chances of it being our place in my head. I figured it was about 1 in 300 from where I was at. As I got closer the odds began to tumble, and by the time I was about 2 or 3 blocks away I knew in my gut what was happening. There was traffic ahead so I pulled into the oncoming lane of South Van Ness, ran a light and stared up at the giant fire truck ladder extended up to the roof above my apartment. I totally understand what the phrase "I couldn't believe my eyes" means now. I kept looking up at it, trying to understand something that just wouldn't go into my brain.

It's been a few days now and it's a good time to write about it. I think we are all finally starting to process it on an emotional level now that we're out of emergency mode. The most amazing part is that although the fire started on the ground floor, my nextdoor-neighbor's apartment up on the third floor was hit the worst. Standing down on the sidewalk, knowing everyone was out of the building and Rafiki the wonder-cat was safe because Tim just happened to have returned home about 5 minutes before, I did a quick check-in with myself about how much I cared about my stuff. Turns out I don't really care that much. Which is ironic because although my nextdoor neighbor's apartment was pretty much incinerated, mine was completely untouched and as it turns out neither CC nor Tim nor I lost one possession, even though all of our neighbors in the surrounding 3 apartments seem to have lost pretty much everything. We didn't even suffer any smoke damage. Truly a miracle for us.

The fire went to two alarms, which means there were alot of firefighters (hooray!) running in and out for quite a while with hoses and tarps full of destroyed debris from our neighbor's apartments. The two teenage kids that live downstairs said it started when a space heater got knocked over without anyone noticing until it was too late. Their Mom was gone for the weekend in Reno, so of course the joke was that they were never going to be left home alone again.

All in all, the casualties consisted of a chihuahua that lived with them downstairs that got scared and ran out onto Cesar Chavez and got hit by a car, my nextdoor neighbor's 2 cats who hid under the bed and suffocated from smoke inhalation, CC's fish Gold Lame (lamay) who had to be moved into tap water and didn't make it thru the night, and all the birds. The firefighters were able to save my neighbor's third cat, a kitten pretty much still that they found passed out and were able to revive by putting her on oxygen in an ambulance.

The additional stroke of luck (which I don't actually think is luck and I attribute to God and my wonderful meditation teacher) is that it just so happened that on the very same day of the fire, somebody moved out of a one-bedroom apartment in a house with a big garden for Fiki in a better neighborhood very close-by that is available now and kind of just fell into the proverbial lap. They say it will be anywhere from six months to a year before anyone can live at South Van Ness again. Wish CC's parents luck and keep your fingers crossed for them.

Here are some pictures.














The next two are interesting; the first one is of my neighbor's bedroom, and the next one after that is my place after the fire. These two rooms are less than a foot from one another.

Finally... Somebody Starts Making Sense

A Muslim cultural institute in Germany has come out and criticised Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad for disparaging the Holocaust(which the Iranian President claims is a conspiracy to jusify the creation of the Israeli state), daring him to visit the Auschwitz concentration camp.

From the article:

By denying the Holocaust, Ahmadinejad not only denigrated the Jewish victims of the genocide but also the 200,000 Roms and Arabs murdered in the "gypsy camp" of Auschwitz-Birkenau and other camps, the institute spokesman said.

Thanks for having some brains. Thank-you. Link

Jumping the Shark

The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) has actually warned AGAINST installing the new Google toolbar because it enables information about the contents of your hard drive (yes, you read that correctly) to be uploaded to Google and stored on their servers for "up to 30 days". Holy crap! This comes as the Department of Justice and Google are sparring over whether Google's search index should be subject to subpeona.

The EFF (the good guys) say, "Unless you configure Google Desktop very carefully, and few people will, Google will have copies of your tax returns, love letters, business records, financial and medical files, and whatever other text-based documents the desktop software can index."

The phrase "Google Divorce" comes to mind.

The grinning Googler to the left is quoted as saying, "We think this will be a very useful tool, but you will have to give up some of your privacy." No shit: if "some" of your privacy means, well, all of your privacy.

Google tries to assure the un-informed reader not to worry, that all data transmission will be encrypted. Gee, thanks. I think I trust a 12-year old hacker that breaks into the data transmission (probably an xml feed or something) with my information *more* than I trust a megalithic corporation to "store" it.

My predictions of Google as Evil Empire 2.0 are beginning to take form even quicker than I had previously imagined. Yikes. Link

My New Favorite World Leader

Venezuela's Hugo Chavez wins the prize. This week, responding to Tony Blair's comments in British Parliament that Venezuela (Chavez) would be better served if they realized that they would be more widely respected if they abided by the "rules of the international community" and that Venezuela's alliance with Cuba would be better served if Cuba were a functioning democracy, Chavez called Blair “shameless and subordinate to the commands of Washington," then called Bush “the genocidal murderer” and warned Blair to “not mess with me.”

Coming in second in the race for "most childish exchange" between world leaders this week was the exchange between Washington and leaders of Lebanon's Hezbollah over the stupid Danish cartoons depicting the image of Mohammed (PBUH, r!) that incited riots all over the world. After Washington accused Syria and Lebanon of inciting violence, Hezbollah fired back that Bush and Condoleeza Rice should "shut up".

Now if a cartoon can incite World War III, then I say we all deserve to be incinerated. But I certainly admire the candor of these regimes that are taking the gloves off and keeping it real in the world of international relations. George Bush and Tony Blair are certainly not the two to be lecturing other world leaders about abiding by the rules of the international community; their raging, sanctimonious hypocrisy from behind desks and suits and layers of media handlers is actually more amusing than outrageous to me. I'm glad Chavez and Hezbollah are there to pull the mask off and expose these diplomatic exchanges for what they really are.

Next week: Hair-pulling at the UN.

PETA vs. The Superbowl

CBS rejected this 30 second commercial by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, nimrod) for the Superbowl this past Sunday. This one is awesome but was banned, too: Milk Gone Wild.

I guess the only udders the unwashed, beer-swilling fleshy beings out there watching the Superbowl want to see belong to Janet Jackson. Screw you, CBS. I'm glad my job is to work on internet video, putting your selectively censored, robotic zombie-box business in its grave.

For more information go to PetaTv.com

And if you want to make sure the government never gets its slimy paws on the freedom of speech that *is* the internet, you should support EFF (the Electronic Frontier Foundation).

End of speech. Enjoy the videos, they're pretty funny.

FOOTNOTE: When I showed it to Tony to try and cheer him out of his puzzle-pirates funk (dont ask) he sent me back this video. Word Disassociation

Incompetence 101

Link

Fat, Age, and Stress: The Coot-Off

Terror Alert: Purple

I've been working on a big long article for my blog lately so I thought I might distract you with pictures. Because it looks like fun to be a gay man.