One Brain, Two Voices

Okay, we haven’t looked at these in a while:

Here are my revised goals as of November 2, 2014:

1.I am bicoastal. I have beautiful residences that I love in both LA and NYC.

2.I weight 260 lbs and have 15% body fat.

3.I lift or do CrossFit six days per week.

4.I write for four hours every day.

5.I have written 25 movies, 10 TV shows, 25 plays, 5 novels, 5 non-fiction books, a book of poetry and a short story anthology.

6.I am married to the man of my dreams.

7.We have three sons.

8.I make $110K or more every month.

9.I live off 10% of my income and direct the rest to do good on the planet.

10.I head a very successful non-profit that helps Iraq and Afghanistan veterans. We teach Pure Peer Support techniques, host weekend retreats, sponsor creativity workshops, and offer paid internships in the entertainment industry helping them to find work that fulfills them and sustains them financially. It has  big, beautiful workspaces and headquarters in New York City and LA.

Here again is my Life Mission:

I co-create a world of Excitement, Wonder, Magic, and Mystery to positively transform the consciousness of Planet Earth in a good way by unleashing the Powerful Warrior Poet who lives inside me.

My Life Affirmation:

As a Queer Poet among the masses, I am powerful! 

How you doin’ with those?

What do you mean how am I doing with them?

Well, are you making any progress toward them?

Uh, well, I’m in California deciding if—

That would be a no.

Huh?

You heard me, that would be a no. A definite no.

You made that list of goals convincing yourself that if you got those goals then you wouldn’t be so fucking miser—

It’s true! If I achieved those goals I would be happy. I know I would!

Okay, then if that’s true, how you doin’ with those action items?

Well—

Do you even know what the action items are any more?

I do.

What are they?

Well, with regard to what goal?

Any of them.

Okay, well, the… the uh…

Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought!

Please don’t be mean to me. I’m doing the best I can.

You are? That’s your best? Well I’m goddamn surprised you’ve ever gotten anything done in your whole pitiful life if that’s your best.

Please don’t call my life pitiful.

Well what else would you call it? How did you spend your day today?

I went to the gym.

Well congratu-fucking-lations! Faggot goes to the gym. That’s certainly revolutionary! Who else did you see there?

Huh?

Who else was at the gym when you went there?

I don’t know what you—

WHO WAS AT THE GYM WHEN YOU WENT THERE INSTEAD OF DOING THE ACTION ITEMS ON YOUR—

Faggots! Other faggots!

(laughing) So yeah, that’s what I meant when I say that you really shouldn’t be standing in line for any goddamn medals for going to the gym! You’re a fag in LA. That’s what fags in LA do! They go to the gym. So don’t expect me to blow you for doing something that almost happens automatically for your kind in a place like this! What else did you do to get any of that shit on your list don—

NOTHING!

(silence)

NOTHING OKAY? I did exactly what I did for the entire ten years I lived here before! I bounced around all day not doing anything to get my goals done! Happy?

Why would I be happy? I’m just trying to help. Don’t pitch a faggoty little fit at me! So you thinking about moving out here again?

I was.

Instead of New York?

In addition to.

Ha!

What?

You thinking you gonna be a bicoastal faggot now?

Please stop calling me that.

You say it all the time.

When I say it it sounds different. You use it mean.

What would like for me to call you?

I’d like you not to call me if you’re not going to do anything but rip me apart. It may not look like it but I’m trying very hard to straighten out my life. I’ve had a rough go of it for the past couple of—

Yeah, we’ve heard! Dead Daddy blahblahblah, abusive husband blahblahblah, divorce, ripped off by ex “husband” blahblahblah— yeah, we’ve heard it all you whiney little—fa— oh, sorry, we’ve heard it all you poor victim you.

Please don’t.

What, you don’t want to be called vi—

I’d rather be called faggot.

Look man, I don’t want to bust your balls but it’s getting sort of embarrassing don’t you think? I mean you’ve made these goals public, you’ve listed action items for each— in a very public sort of way and now you’re just incredibly busy not doing them. What’s up with that?

I’m scared.

What the fuck you mean you’re scared? You went to war for fuck’s sake! You gonna tell me you’ll drive that piece of tin foil through a foreign country through IED roadways underneath sniper infested overpasses and you’re scared of writing? 

Absofuckinglutely. I’d rather get shot at than sit down to write.

Wow.

What?

Just wow. That’s fucking insane. I don’t know if I’d admit that bro.

It’s true.

It’s still insane.

So maybe I’m insane.

Maybe so.

I sat in the gym this morning wishing I could kill somebody.

What?!

You heard me.

Where did that come from? Talk about non sequitur!

Not really. You said I’m insane. I just thought I’d give you a little free evidence. I sat there on that bench wishing I could go back to Iraq and open fire on some religious fundamentalist who wants to kill fags in the name of Allah!

Why go halfway across the world to do that? You can find fundies right here who want to kill fags for God!

Good point. But it’s only in certain contexts that you can kill them and not be imprisoned or killed for it. When I’m wearing that uniform I can do it and I’m a hero, if I do it here and kill some Kentucky right-wing fag-hating Christian, I’m doomed. I’m a murderer.

Man that’s pretty sad. You are seriously spending your time sitting around killing people in your head? Some peace activist. You sure talk a good game with all that peace shit. What if people knew you were really sitting around thinking about killing people?

Well they’re the ones that trained me to.

Huh?

These “people” you’re talking about. It was their money that trained me to kill. Is it my fault that when I get into a place of extreme frustration and fear that I should go to “kill?” Don’t you remember bootcamp? All that “kill-kill-kill” shit we were always screaming. The “pink cloud?” All that shit. It stays with a fella.

Hmm.

“Hmm” what?

I don’t know man, it’s just kind of scary. You supposed to leave that shit behind when you leave the military. When anybody leaves the military—but especially when somebody leaves the military to start flitting around he world talking about “peace” all the time.

Flitting?

‘beg your pardon?

Did you just say I started “flitting” around the world talking about—

Oh come on dude, it’s just a word!

A very loaded word.

Well you—

Uh yeah, I think we’re pretty much done here.

(incredulous) Really? Over tha… Has anybody ever told you you are waaaay too fucking sensitive?

Yeah. Just about everybody I’ve ever known. Thanks for being ordinary. Now fuck off.

(sarcastic laughter) Well good luck with those “action items” tomorrow Buddy! You really should consider putting “dick sucking” on there. At least you could feel like you’d accomplished something.

Fuck you.

Right back at you pro!

(see y’all tomorrow)