The Official Site of Jason Paul Field

INHALE...EXHALE....(REPEAT)

Jun 2, 2008 1:48 AM

Back to the old drawing board. Tomorrow I am going to wake up and start all over................... again.

Ive got a few more tools for this job.

Im feeling oddly centered.

My brain is logg jammed.

Im gonna have to start back small on here and work it back up. Lots of rust on the fingers. Brain dipped in batter. Heart full a holes but still hoping.

Im giving it up. Turning it over.

Lets see where we go.

For the first time in my life I can honestly say....I have no idea where I am at or which way I am going.

And oddly....I feel just fine about it.

Faith.

But I have to pursue the faith with action, not Distraction.

I hear the echoes of discontent. I feel the dull pangs of a fallen love. The aches and scrapes are scratching my bones. The familiar ghosts that coast the dark unswept corridors of my soul are swirling and moaning. The tightly wound heart strings that assemble my emotional grid have been pulled to their furthest tension. The steam of resentment brews deep in my belly rising up to heat the angry spirit that lies in wait.

All these personal demons are alive and shaking the walls of complacency...demanding release, attention, JUSTICE!

But, instead, I choose to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. REpeat.

And in that infinitesimal pause between the inspiration and expiration.

God speaks to me.

He slips in through that narrowest invisible gap and communicates his gentle power.

"Im here"

And with that slightest affirmation I feel the waves of my troubled ocean become calm. Still. The warmth of the angry spirit receives a cool and reassuring breeze. The steam of resentments disappear into tiny wisps without a scent. The ghosts retreat to their cracks and closets. The strings of my heart relax and fall in tune.

I am fine. All is well. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

When your born a lover.
Your born to suffer.
To all soul sisters and soul brothers.

Goodnight.

THE SYMBOL OF THE STORM....

Jan 5, 2008 3:45 AM

Storms:

A violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually rain, lightening or snow.

Yes, we all weather a few storms in our lifetime don't we?

Tonight as I sat in my car in the parking lot of a dimly lit service station parking lot I listened intently as pellets of rain that had formed thousands of feet above my head came splashing into their existence upon my windshield only to be carelessly tossed aside like a lost poker chip by the spider like arm of my rubber wiper.

It is amazing to think about how many raindrops there are, yet they all have a unique and individual path.

The winds play a part in the path of those raindrops. Exerting its influence by swaying the flow of air to move and rearrange the drops as they free fall towards their demise.

Thunder pierces our eardrums as a warning that things could potentially be hazardous.

Lightening strikes. showing us flashes of danger and exposing the fury and power that it possesses, reminding us that at any moment we could be evaporated leaving nothing but smoke and ash.

Poor little raindrops.

What courage they must have.

What spirit.

What a leap of faith.

Some survive the fall to earth and join together to form groups which we call puddles. They remain still and hold on for peace having faith that their fate is one that will leave an impression and help carve a resting place for future falling drops.

Some join together and run from their fate in frenzied fear, creating streams that flow as fast as they can to any position which might offer them safe harbor, but curiously wind up being sucked down by mysterious sewer holes that drain them into an endless abyss of catacombs and darkness.

You catching my drift here?

God is the storm. Almighty. Self creating. All powerful. Master of change, transformation, new beginnings and tragic endings. Unpredictable but necessary.

We of course are the raindrops. Formed without any choice in the matter. Shot gunned into a world of wonders, mystery, chaos, and confusion.....knowing we will not survive but for a brief amount of time we must all fall on our own.

The wind, thunder and lightening could represent the devil, or distractions, or bad karma....whichever floats your fancy. They bully us, frighten us, and inject us with fear causing us to sometimes alter our path creating conflict between what we want and where we are destined to land.

But, no matter what, and no matter where. All the raindrops land somewhere. The storm gives them all a little place to fall.

And thats when the raindrops really begin their lives. After they have fallen, after they have been bullied and scared and thundered at. After they have been knocked off course but still managed to arrive here on the planet.

Its then that they start to make their own choices.

Do they wish to be a individual drop forever? Holding fast to a single window pain to be admired by the eyes on the other side of the glass... only to dry up alone in the warmth of the forth coming sun?

Or do they bond with other raindrops who are aware of the difficult journey they have taken recognizing that it is only in their existence and sharing with one another that their time on earth can really achieve any truth or meaning? These "puddles" they form are open for as many drops that want to join. And the more that join, the larger impression they make together to create a safe harbour for future raindrops formed by future storms.

And then there are the raindrops that choose to deny their mortality and instead spend their lives trying to outrun their fate. So entrenched in fear that they can't stand their ground on a pane of glass, or sit still and join a puddle, so they run, run, run, seeking some purpose that always alludes them as they slip down silently into the waiting vaults of despair and deprivation. And even when they land in the depths of the sewers they keep running, wondering how they can be working so hard only to find themselves sinking deeper and deeper into the very pattern they themselves have created.

I must have sat in that parking lot for at least an hour. Just observing the masterpiece of the storm. Like an opera it fell before me, around me, on me. I heard its warnings, saw its dangers, and witnessed its swaying winds bend back the branches of the trees.

I stared at some beautiful individual drops that managed to find a spot on my windshield. They swelled and danced for me showing me all their brilliance and complexity. And I smiled because I understood them.

Then I watched as other drops joined and ran into the streams which flowed furiously through the crevices searching for something or somewhere to save them as they swiftly got swallowed by waiting and hungry sewage holes and winding cavernous drains. And I cried real tears because I empathized with them.

And then I stared at a huge puddle that had formed under an overhang and was lit by a luminous neon glow from a nearby florescent light. I watched as it sat there still and open being a receptacle for any drop in need, who cared to join. And as the impression of falling drops joined into the puddle it was as if they were dancing with joy. And with that idea I burst into both laughter and tears at the same time because the idea of it unfolded so vividly before my eyes it caught my heart asunder.

We all are going to die. That is a fact. No way out of it.

But how are you going to live? That is the choice God gives you.

As I drove slowly home drifting from lane to lane I contemplated what type of drop I had been, what kind I was, and what kind I want to be.

I used to be in the streams, running scared through the shadowed streets seeking refuge in darkness and tricking myself into believing I was actually getting somewhere.

Then, Until a few months ago, I had become the drop that has been clinging to the window pane, desperately trying to hold my ground thinking that it was my world, and I controlled it. And that others should view my spectacle and want to emulate it.

But lately, I have been making my way towards the puddle. I don't want to go through this life alone seeking purpose in darkness or in self preservation. I want to live and dance in joy and make an impression with other drops, that will be of help or service for all the millions of drops yet to come.

Yep. I wrote all this out only to tell you that I want to be in a puddle:)

Now, I'm not there yet. To start a good puddle, you gotta find that special drop to get you started. And if you join with that special drop you get a little bigger. And then you can reach out to other drops. And soon can swell and and expand to become as deep and as wide as the storm will allow. You can celebrate as other drops join in the dance and all become a part of what has now become a very full and meaningful existence with purpose and peace.

And tomorrow, when the sun shines, the individual drops will dry up quickly evaporating into tiny stains that will serve only as a faded memory.

The streams will have dried underneath the surface never having known what the sun looks or feels like.

But the puddles will sit. Calm and still. Together. Feeling the warmth of the sun and watching nature command its place into the future. As the days press on the sun will slowly begin to lift those drops from the puddle back up into the heavens and it will decrease in size from the outside in. And it will be the drops that initially initiated the puddle, the earliest drops that formed who had the most security around them that will last until finally they too are elevated back into the sky.

Perhaps they will be used again? Maybe come back as a snow flake? Or maybe after serving their purpose well and leaving a nice impression for future drops, God will give them an eternal life of pleasure serving as the big slip and slide in the sky.

Life really is a wonderful gift.

What an amazing opportunity.

Thank you God.

And so....good night.

THE TIME IS NOW.

Jan 3, 2008 7:48 PM

I woke up unlogically early this morning. Judging by the red line, I will assume unlogical is not a real word but I know what I mean when I say it and I think you understand it therefore it is a word. Its all about expression. Communication. I have created many words in my life. It's low on my life's priority list but I just might make my own dictionary one day. I mean, why does Webster get to have all the fun?

Anyway. Im stalling. Its New Years Eve Day and the last two or so weeks of my life have brought on a dramatic emotional upheaval. I went back to look in an old closet to see if it was really clean and realized I had left a few scattered dusty articles in there that I had "somehow" ignored.

For the last two and and half years I have been really reconstructing myself. Working towards being the essential me. The real me. The me GOD intended me to be. Its a real drag sometimes. Its unfamiliar. Lot a potholes needed patching. Construction signs hard to read sometimes. And it gets real lonely late at night on these long dark winding roads.

But years end is a natural time to reassess. To check the rearview and see if the eyes looking back at me are still mine. Maybe I should pull over and see if I haven't had this map upside down all along. (Should I have made that left at Albequerque?)

So, how far have I come? Far, but not far enough. I have work to do. Real work. Work that maybe I thought I could bypass has circled back in front and found me again. If you cut corners on your own life you just keep having to double back. Exhausting.

If I want it, I can have it. I just have to go and get it. It is all there for me. God has a positive plan for me. It is a good plan. If I am obedient and reach for my blessings, God will provide them.

I want truth. But, I have to be true to find it.

I want to be trusted. I want to trust. I want to live a life full of love and laughter and great health.

I want a best friend/partner/lover that is loyal and capable of navigating a storm with or without me on the boat.

I want to share my thoughts and my affections freely. Without worry or doubt. I want to snuggle every morning and every night with someone who loves to be snuggled and can snuggle back.

I want someone who is worthy of me. I want to be worthy of the person I am with.

I want to have two children. I want to provide them love, protection, security, knowledge, and opportunity.

I want someone who appreciates my ebbs and flows as a creative person.

Can anybody find me this person?

Well, I know she exists. Proobably more than one exists. (I left the extra"o" in probably on purpose because I think its funny)But finding her is only one part of it. The other part is...am I prepared for it?

And whats the order? Well, I think you have to prepare yourself for it first. That way when she comes around the mountain you will be ready for it.

And that is what I set my sights on this new year. Self preperation for a meaningful and lasting relationship. A relationship that offers opportunity for a future.

More to come....I know I always write that then never continue, but who knows....maybe I will this time!

Be well lovers.

SSHHHHH.......HERE I COME.

Jan 1, 2008 9:31 PM

I remember in Los Angeles it was about 1997 or 98. I had a little tan Toyota Tercel that I bought from a Mexican guy for like fifteen hundred bucks. I had come out to LA to do a play and had been discovered by a manager and had decided to stay and claim my stardom. Problem was...and I didn't know this at the time but, I was a "holic" Alcoholic. Drugaholc. Sexaholic. You can pretty much come up with anything and I would "holic" the shit out of it.

I blew through a pretty good chunk of money in a relatively short amount of time just kinda "hanging out" pretending I was pursuing an acting career when I was really just "hanging out" waiting on someone to give me something I thought I deserved.

Then one day I had to zip down to Ralphs and buy some cat food for this fucking cat I had to take care of while I sublet this apartment I was staying in over on Sycamore Street in Hollywood.

I took the side street down and came to an intersection where I had to try to cross over four lanes of traffic to continue on my way. I started creeping across the first lane, poked into the second lane. The oncoming car in the second lane saw me and slowed. He then looked back and waved me on as if to say..."your clear...proceed". So, I hit the gas to zip on through.

I remember just a milliflash of recognition that something bad was about to happen. Before the thought could even form a big white 70's buick ripped into the front end of my little rice-burner and sent me whirling. My car lurched violently and I recall it spinning around in at least two full circles before slamming up against a curb and bobbling awkwardly to a full rest.

In the midst of those spins I have several fractured memories. I remember thinking, I gotta feed the cat. I got acting to do....I have work...to do. I remember thinking...I gotta save the family. I gotta make it big...I want to be in love. I want to know love.

I honestly, and sincerely recall all of those individual thoughts in the few seconds that my tiny tercel spun around on Beverly Blvd. that summer day in 1997 or 98.

The last one very vividly. "I want to know love". The reason I suppose I recall that memory so vividly is because it shocked me. I knew love. I had been in love. I had been in long relationships, lived with girls, cried tears, burned pictures the whole shebangola.

The front end of my car was almost completely severed from the vehicle about one foot in front of my legs. Had I zipped out maybe one full second faster....these fingers wouldn't be typing this shit right now.

My seat belt snapped at impact and my head had been thrust sharply against the steering wheel, then had jerked up oddly and smacked the rearview mirror which stayed connected but shattered. Magicaly I would up right back in my seat although the spring had busted and the seat was teetering towards the center console.

My next memory is a physical one. And it is similar to the feeling I have right now but because of a very different kind of accident.

It was a moment of silent numbness. My physical body striving to catch up with what the mental mind was comprehending. That a major impact had just taken place. Something that was not intended met something else unintended and they slammed into each other and then spun away. Both affected. Both changed.

The sensation was somewhat exhillerating and made me for a moment understand the whole turn on of car crashes and sex. The thrll junkie in me perked up for a moment...but it was quickly subsided by my next memory.

That was the memory of me looking up to my rearview to make sure that I was alive. That what just happened had actually happened.

There was glass imbedded in my forehead and face. Blood had been drawn from these small puctures and had dripped wildly down my face so that I looked like a victum in some old slasher flick. I had recently had some expensive dental work done so I smiled to see if my teeth were crushed. They weren't.

And with that, I began to chuckle. A slow inward chuckle that quickly burst forth into a hearty laugh.

It was at this moment that I recall people around my driver side window clammering to see if I was ok. I calmly reached over still laughing and wound down my window which was in tact.

After that its all pretty normal. The police and paramedics showed up. There was a report filed, insurance info exchanged....well his was...I had no insurance.

The paramedics offered to take me to the hospital but I declined even though I was quite dizzy. I was afraid of how much it would cost.

A tow truck showed up and towed away the wreckage and after what seemed like a very short time...maybe 45 minutes....it was as if nothing had ever happened. People were driving by right where I had almost been ended- and everything just kept right on moving. It was as if I wouldn't have made any difference.

And had I died that day....I can't say that my life would have mattered very much in the big scheme of things. I hadn't done much other than graduate college and accomplish a few minor acting jobs.

But I did live. I did.

And as I walked back toward my apartment holding the gauze pad to my forehead tears began to form.

Not from pain although my head did take quite a wallop and perhaps I suffered a minor concussion that day.

But it wasn't my throbbing head. It was that thought. "I want to know love"

It really fucking irked me. Because I thought I knew something about love but as I stumbled up sycamore street that afternoon realizing I had just about lost everything I had in the last year and I realized that I didn't know a whole lot about anything.

And so from that point started a slow dance around the idea of wanting to find out what was love. How did I define it? How did I get it?

Now 10 years later I have some insights....but I can't share them right now because I have to go.

To be continued.

YOU JUST KEEP ME HANGIN' ON......

Oct 31, 2007 1:23 AM

Some days are just born into a starkness that I cannot avoid. It is as though the next day silently slips backwards into my sleep the night before and starts churing behind the forced tautness of my eyelids. I sense light and shadows. I hear traffic, conversations, laughter-- all blurred, distorted by the constant low purr of an electric fan. I mechanically twist and writhe into positions on the bed in hopes of inducing sleep. But there is a hidden goblin lurking behind the backstage curtain of my concioussness who is high diving into the emotional abyss of my lonely, aching ocean of anxiety.

What're ya gonna do? It was one of those days.

Awakened by a shivered restlessess about 2am. I guided myself out of bed and down the narrow mirrored corridor to my latrine. I squeezed out a mid evening stream as I stared blankly at my shadowed reflection in the mirror before me. Within the outline of my head I began to imagine other faces on mine. Faces that I did't recognize, yet they all seemed distinctly farmiliar. As though they were people I used to know, or had met in some type of drunken haze in a dream from long ago. As I often do in my waking thoughts I began to hear distant voices as if engaged in conversation. Sometimes I recognize the voice of my mother as if she is talking on the phone. I remember as a child listening to my mother talk on the phone for hours and hours, laughing, gossiping, and telling secrets. I took great comfort in my mothers voice as a child. She was and is a vivid and imaginative story teller and I owe a large slice of my talent pie to her. But, unfortuately, the comfort of her voice chatting away quickly takes a dramatic turn and there are voices of conflict and fear. Troubled, argumentative inflections and tones enter. Not audible in spoken words but rather living panic chords being plucked like a piano string from somewhere deep inside the construction of my human spirit. I make attempts to focus and listen to the conversation with the idea that I may be able to mediate. That is my astrological function as a clasic Libra male. But the power of the opposition is too great and a whoosh of overwhelming helplessness consumes me and I take a short sharp breath to try and unscramble the thought. An attempt to avert the natural thought flow of my nightly darkness.

I witnessed many horrid tradgedies in my home as a child. Great bouts of dischord and marital malfunction. They were not intentional. Just two trapped souls fighting for love and survival in a relationshp cofined by a generational need to "stay together for the kids".

Im not here to shed shit on my parents. Everyone fights. I'm just talking about the remnants that lodge in ones memory when you are a child and so sensitive and succeptable to the flying emotional shrapnel. It sticks and lodges into places so deep in the mechanism. And at night, twenty five years later...they surface from the compartmentalized basement of your suppressed anger and they tread like ghosts into your current reality. still searching for resolve to the argument. Still striving to find peace.

I follow the dark carpet stip back to my bed. I pull my eye pillow over my face and try to re align my thoughts awy from the voices...the panic...the violence that seems to be playing out in the next room like an old re-run of Archie Bunker...but drunk. My breathing becomes shallow and constricted. SHort moans escape my lips as I feel the gut wrenching grip of unknown demons desperate to escape.

I give up and chew a melotonin tablet in hopes it will dull the distracing thoughts and allow me to trick myself away from this place and think about the beautiful beaches of Southern France. The coolness of the damp cobblestone streets near Temple Bar in Dublin Ireland. The lazy lap of waves slapping up against the broad side of Gondeliers in Venice Italy. I try to ecape as far away as I can. As I guess I have been doing physically, and emotionally for years. I supose that is part of the need to continue to pursue my craft. Its not a choice...its a need.

Without street medications, I am here alone with these thoughts every night. These demons come to party every night. Sometimes I lure them to bed with me...sometmes they insist I join in the ritual of playing out those extreme close up memories that download and play like a film trailer projected onto the inner walls of my skull.

You don't get over this stuff. You learn to deal with it. You spend your ife struggling with how to accept, forgive, and find peace within yourself to rise above and levitate out of harms reach of the magnetic force that wants to drag you down into the bed, below the sheets and through the guts of your mattress. Down splicing your flesh through the careless coils and jagged springs. Splintered through the wooden backboard and finally to the dust laden vast blackness of the floor beneath your bed. Beneath your soul. Beneath your adulthood, your adolescence, your puberty, your masturbation, straight down through all your lies and half truths and good intentions and debauchery and sin.

Straight down to the heart of you.

And there you sit. Pinned. Cold . Naked.

And you find God there. You have to. Because he is the only alternative to the angry weights that are pulling you down.

The only hope.

And he tells me to hang on. Its a welcome warmth like a mothers hand inbetween my shoulder blades. A touch that says...sleep child. Demons you go now.

And they go.

And I fade into a lulluby for what seems like all of ten seconds before I feel the warmth and bright glow of the california sun break through my curtains. A door slams. A horn honks. I flip my eye pillow upand peek to the clock on my TV tray that acts as a bed side table. Its 7am.

I lay and stare at the ceiling and perform monologues in my head. Various characters and phantom souls I have created that still lurk about in the wings of my mind awaiting a reprise. Still trying to capture the ultimate dramatic cresendo like a die hard surfer in search of the perfect wave.

Fially after exhausting the possibilities that I might wake up as someone else, I give in to the reality of my actual existence. I sit up in my bed and gaze at my guitar for a moment before picking it up to humm out some of the melodies burned into my brain from the nightly adventure.

Now, its time to forge ahead into the waking hours of searching deeper into my purpose.

What will come of me?, I wonder...as I stand up and stride out of the bedroom and into the day.

ANOTHER DAY...ANOTHER STEP...

Oct 27, 2007 2:42 AM

Scratch...scratch...scratch. Its like the rats that used to live inside the walls of my old New York City apartment. I could hear them, deftly aware of their existance although never quite able to distinguish their exact location. Distant squeals would echo through the chambers of dry wall and plaster. I often wondered if they were squealing for joy at the fact that they were safe and secure behind the confines of the inner structure, or if they were squealing from the misery of being trapped, condemned to a life in hiding waiting only for moments when things would become still enough, dark enough, that they could crawl out into the shadows to feed their hunger. To fill their tiny souls with whatever crumbs of fullfillment they could find.

Many a restless nights I listened to them scurrying along the plumbing pipes, their tiny webbed feet clinging to the cool iron as they drank rusty water that undoubtedly dripped from the ancient internal water system that ran through that Pre World War II building.

At first, I hated them because they were another ember to the restless fire that burned in my brain during my New York times. They were a constant reminder that I could not control things. Not even the rodents- in my tiny room, in my little apartment, stacked in a modest five story walk up among the bustling heart-mangling metropolis of Gotham city.

If you've never lived in the city, and by The City...i mean NEW YORK CITY...you don't know what it is to be consumed by the darkest darkness of the night...to feel your hallowed lonley heart shreik with need as you cling for comfort in your sweaty sheets. Cockroaches cleaning your dishes and nesting in your silverware drawers...as the rats await behind your walls. Keeping you under constant surveillance. Watching your every move...learning your habits. They know when you are sleeping. They know when your awake.

And if you are just the slightest bit careless. Leave the bread bag untied. Some uneaten chinese. An apple core near the top of an open trash container. Some chicken fat sliced away that sticks to a countertop. Salmon skin gristle in a pan on the stove.

They patiently scratch and squeal you into a terrible nightmare of anxiety and hopelessness as they plot their moonlight feast.

But then one night as I sat pouring myself about six fingers of Makers Mark into a terrific oversized coffee mug that still had the cream ring inside from not having been rinsed out in several days, I slowly began to feel a kinship with the rats.

I had arrived home earlier that evening from having had dinner with an Aunt and Uncle that were in town for the weekend. I love when people visit New York and somehow then imagine that they understand what it must be like to actually live there. To survive the daily unforgiving grind of the the most influential city of all time. Its altogether exhausting but understandable.

Upon my return home I noticed that the welcome mat was gone...I was pretty zoomed up from having had much wine with dinner, stopping at a Times Square dive to partake in a few cocktails and had even been persuaded into a few bathroom stall rondevues with the candy man to elevate the whole scenario of my struggling existance. In short, I was feeling no pain, so the welcome mat being snagged from my front door was a mere annoyance. It was when I opened the door and saw that all the furniture from inside my living room was gone that things started to really scramble around on the internal hard drive. As my mind raced for conclusions my eyes met with one. A post it stuck to a mirror that hung above a make-shift shelf where I laid my keys, pocket change and wallet.

It was a note from my five year live in lover...Ellissa. It was short, brutal, and to the point explaining that she had recovered some dangerously flirtatious emails I had exchanged with a girl whom I had every intention to commit an infidelity with when the opportunity arose. She had had enough, and was gone. And took everyting with her except my clothes which lay strewn across the apartment like tinsel tossed aside after throwing out a christmas tree.

I moved slowly around the apartment as if by moving slowly I could somehow stop time. Maybe even turn it back. My addictive demons were in full force in those days so it seemed like a perfect excuse to sit down on the floor. Pull the Makers Mark out that she left behind because she only drank the severe clear. And drink.

But then I heard the rats....scratch...scratch...scratch. Feet scrambing along the wall studs. High pitched squeals that you heard first in the center of your stomach before it moved up through your chest cavity and finally resonated in the circumfirance of your skull.

I stood and ran my hands across the walls. I imagined the tunnels thay must have worked for years together to carve away excess plaster, dust, wood particles and other obstacles. I thought about the ones I had caught and killed with the broomstick or the moptop. Others were slain by my trusted alley cat I called graystoke at the time. I could almost feel the slick tussled short fur on their hunched backs. The slithering skin tails that dragged behind like unhappy memories. Their squealing increased as I began to hit the walls, first with open hands, slapping and banging high and low. Within seconds I was punching close fisted and hard. Battering the walls of my living room and yelling for them to SHUT UP and LEAVE ME ALONE!

As I crumbled with drunken humility to the floor I drank deepy from my cup only then looking up to notice the blood dripping down my walls. My knuckles and fingers were scraped and shredded horribly and bleeding profusely. First I lit a Parliment before wrapping a couple of mismatched socks around my bloodied paws and huddling the bourbon between my fists as if it were the only thing that might sustain me till the sun came up.

And then I noticed it.

Silence.

The rats had heard me, felt me,...felt for me. They called time out. Even the rats knew I needed to hear myself think. To get my thoughts straight.

I lived in that apartment for about six months after that with nothing more than a mattress on the floor. Paying $1,750 I ate standing up over my kitchen counter every day with my cat freely licking the milk out of my cereal bowl as I ate. I never rinsed out my great mug. I liked the cakey creme stain that lined the inner rim and the sticky sweet stench of melted bourbon. It reminded me. Over that period of time I saw several rats in the apartment. They scurried from corner hole to corner hole with various leftover crusts, empty soup and tuna cans I had left about. And although greystokegave chase every now and again, I never so much as raised an eyebrow after that.

See, since that night six months prior, I never heard them scratch or squeal again.

Perhaps it was the season. Peraps it was that the newborns had grown up and moved on. But I think that it was because, we had come to an understanding. I realized that I was one of them. Scratching and squealing behind hidden walls. Plotting and planning for that given moment when I might be able to slip out in the safety of a shadow and find that hidden treasure that would fill my void and give me respite from the constant demands of carving pathways over endless obstacles. I too, was a short haired slickster carrying a long trail of disease behind me. Risking my soul daily just to keep myself alive one more day. One more step.

I have taken many steps since then. Most of them thanks to the Good Lord in a better direction. But, now and again, late late at night when my eyes are closed and canvassing the inner caverns of my soul, I hear the echoes of distant squeals.

I open my eyes and inhale a deep drink of fresh california night and know that although I have relocated and realigned and reinvented and re-just about fucking everythinged.

The rats are still there. Waiting. Watching.

Can you hear them?

Scratch...scratch...scratch.

Jason Paul Field 10/27/07 2:33am

A BLAST FROM THE VAST.....

May 14, 2007 1:08 AM

Yep. Long time no....Nothing. Not that there hasn't been a lot happening. I think it is more that there has been too much happening. Flying at me like snowflakes in a blizzard and just like a child I been running around with my tongue out trying to catch as many as I can before they hit the ground. Or before I hit the ground.

Its been a blur of work, music attempts, formulation of a new short film idea and script, and somehow trying to forge ground in a potential relationship that every time I start to feel comfortable...like I really want to pursue it, I get the rug pulled out from under me and I lie there on the ground looking up exclaiming..."What happened?!"

Ah life. So mysterious with its little burbles and blunders. Never letting you get balanced long enough on the teeter totter to really relax and enjoy it. Flux. Keep moving. Breath. Try again. Get up. Try harder. Wipe the tears away. Focus. Maybe a different angle. Simplify. Listen to your heart...no wait, follow your instincts...are they one in the same? Shake it off, stay positive. Move forward. Don't look back. Explore, discover, breath, rest, get up...and round and round she goes! Where it stops nobody knows!

Let it be, baby. Gotta just let it be.

Im trying to refrain from getting too specific here tonight. Been catching a lot of flack via these cyber waves. None the less I think you get the picture.

Nobody said it was gonna be easy.

I have been processing so much information this week. About myself, my situation, my position in life. What I want, how to get it. Sometimes I feel so confidant that I have gotten my brain around it. That I just might have figured out enough to make some significant progress, and then just as I think I might want to pat myself on the back the universe responds by humbling me in very short order reminding me how little control I really have over anything.

I miss home. I miss my friends. My home friends. The ones who have been there through it all. Who know me from both sides of the shadow. I miss just sitting around and cutting up. Laughing and being loud and belligerent with nothing but a good time in mind.

i remember a night getting drunk with my man Heath downtown in Akron, when his wife called and we suddenly had to go pick up her dog and rush her to the emergency vetinary clinic. Her whole family came. It was a huge ordeal, and we were hammered through the whole event trying to get through it quick enough to make it back to the bar for last call. Which we did. Then we got back to his house at three in the morning and wrestled on his living room floor like a couple of horses asses waking up and frightening the bejesus out of his wife.

Good times.

Anyway. I really don't mean this to be somber. I guess I am just a bit homesick and I want some respite from my own thoughts. I needed to clear some space because my hard drive is too full. And this is my external hard drive. Where I stop and dump all the crap I don't need floating around on my main system.

I'm well. A little frustrated by the holding patterns. I want it all. I want it now. You know, the usual little blast of impatience that catches up to all of us from time to time.

I wonder if I will read this when I am old and laugh...or cry. Or both. i hope I achieve both. You know deep down its all about being a good drama for me.

What will these next chapters bring? Your guess is as good as mine.

Goodnight lovers.

LITTLE JACK BAUER FROM AKRON.......?????

Jan 24, 2007 11:33 PM

First day of the commercial shoot and I wake up early to drive to Long Beach. I get there with time to spare but can't find the crew parking lot. Its an industrial area and suddenly somewhere deep in my colon that second cup of Starbucks french roast bold blend has crossed paths with my high fiber Kashi cereal. Something needs to happen. I get on the line and call the production assistant....who isn't on location and only has a crap map to read to me from. I pull over so as to better be able to focus on clenching my butt cheeks while pretending to understand what this dipshit is trying to say over the phone. I suggest she call someone on set and have them call me to navigate since the crap map is just that. She agrees. I hang up. I get out of the car and start walking toward a building. I don't know what type of bussiness it is....some big hangar, but I figure if people are there, they must have a bathroom.

I walk through several glass doors and find myself in a small dingy office with a second hand desk. Behind it sits a strangely sexy woman of asian descent who has a crossbreed expression of "where did I go wrong?" and ...."ahh screw it". I stand there amped up on caffeine, a few beeds of sweat forming on my brow and my glutimus maximus trying to hold back the gates from the forthcoming revolution. Needless to say...I look lost and pretty desperate. I make a short brief attempt at charm...."Hey there...how's your morning? She just stares blankly at me....she almost appears to begin forming an actual syllable when I cut her off....."Do you guys by any chance have a bathroom I could use?" The look in my eyes is one of urgency and need. I hold her gaze so as to let let her off the hook and give me the cold shoulder. "Right over there.." She points to a small wooden door that seems to narrrow to actually be the door to a room. It is literally five feet from where she is sitting. No time for further formality. "Thankyou...I'll just be a second" I say as I strangely almost gallop to the door. I swivel in and sit down. There is a strange silence before my flatulence echoes abruptly into the the silence bouncing off the porcelin and sending ripples of sound reverberating. Then at the same time as I think about how awkward that asian woman must feel listening to me unleash my ass-matic fury, see there is no toilet paper. No paper towels, onme of those old cloth pull me down and find the clean spot jobs. Then my phone rings. Its the PA with the directions to the lot. I turn to my wallet and carefully use to bank slips to tidy up the sphincter gates. I pull up and answer the phone. "This is Jason". I say, as I stride out of the cramped bathroom space with the confidance of a wall street broker with a reliable tip. I shoot the secretary a wink as the remainder of my breakfast swirls into the LA river.

I shoot over to the crew parking. It was squeezed in between three access roads and was virtually invisible. I jump out and into a waiting van marked "talent". (Those little moments are very gratifying) I hop in the front because I find drivers for production companies some of the nicest people on set. We chat for a moment. Then he stops.."here you go".

I hop out. Another hangar. I make my way over and see a group of people who look totally out of place because I know they must be actors as well. They are making small talk and I quickly spot the craft services truck and grab a fresh cup of joe and a yogurt.

Soon I get my trailer and I spend a few moments enjoying my nomadic triumph of having my own trailer on a wendies commercial shooting in Long Beach. Then I get ito wardrobe and get escorted to the set. I get put into a truck which is eerily reminiscent of several work trucks I have been in. I then proceed to take two bites of a Wendies new Buffalo chicken sandwich about twenty five times!

LUNCH! They call. Yeah, right. I'm stuffed. I wait through lunch and then they tell me I am done for the day. "We'll call you back Friday to shoot the main segment".

Cool, I can make it back home before traffic gets thick. I get a ride back to my car and the driver tells me the best route back to the freeway. I quickly zip onto the 405 North and start making time.

Next thing I know....a freak rainstorm. In LA. Are you kidding me. I'm two miles from home. You know what they say about two miles from home...? Exactly. Just as I am thinking how this commercial might finally give me that little financial push ahead that will allow me a little, just a little cushion. The brand new Black Lexus surburban in front of me slams on the breaks in front of me. I try to pump the breaks but the wet LA expressways just turn to oil slicks when it rains. And I just hydro glide right into him.....BLAM!!!!!!!

My airbags deploy and my face bounces off of it. They pop. Did you know that? Well, mine popped anyway. Then there was smoke which suddenly freaked me right the fuck out. I quickly unlocked my doors and seatbelt and got out of the car thinking perhaps it would blow up.

Its raining. Everyone is honking. I look up and realize that I just blasted the back of a vehicle that costs more than my entire life. And out come two terrorist leaders of the Taliban undoubtedly heading the LA cell of international terrorism.

More to come

THE RETURN...........

Jan 21, 2007 10:49 PM

Hi.

Anybody still out there?

Yeah, I know. But you know....sometimes you just get carried away.

But- all that aside, lets get updated.

After finishing the short film project TOUCH, I set to work on my debut music CD. I have the first four tracks near completion with the whole thing slated to be done by the end of April. I am super excited and believe that it will be my most revealing artistic project ever.

In the midst of that I have been auditioning for commercials and doing voice over auditions like crazy and finally.....FINALLY!!!! Last week went a little like this.

MONDAY: Wake up and go to work for an opening lunch shift. Get out and retrieve messege from agent to go to a commercial audition. Fight traffic. Spend thirty minutes to park. Ten more to walk to audition. Wait an hour and a half.

Act for ten seconds.

"Thankyou"

Walk out....digging deep to figure out the angles. What you did, what you could've done...should've done.

Go back to work, work dinner shift.
Go home, go to bed.

TUESDAY: Acupuncture. First visit- trying alternative methods to help me with a shoulder injury that is ruining my life. I talk to her for an hour or so about all the things that are "on my mind".....if you read this with any regularity you know there are things always on my mind:)

Then she takes my pulse for a very long time and looks at my tongue with great curious interest. "You should prepare yourself for a reaction" she says. "I normally don't do the back on a first visit but you have some serious stagnation in your spirit and you need a major release".

"whatever" I murmur in my head....."just stick me"

I lay on my stomach and she proceeds to stick me with quick efficient strokes. For a moment I think of bulls when they are being stabbed by a matador but quickly realized the comparison is totally ridiculous. Then she starts in with some breathing excercizes and starts pressing some points. My shoulders began twitching...almost convulsing. I swear it was like I had no control over my limbs. They were just jerking at random. "You need to release some of this energy so just let it go" she says, her voice is steady, focussed, serene and calm. Her hands emit heat as she presses them into spots that seem to be yearning for attention. I hear her hummm and for a quick second I think of Mr. Miyagi in the karate kid and I start to laugh. No, I mean I really start laughing. Out loud. And I can't stop. Soon I am almost hysterical with laughter...."thats it....let it go" and next thing I know tears begin to stream down my face. I mean streams of tears. Tears for all the thoughts that have made me want to cry for the last God knows how long but I held it. I dealt. I compartmentalized. I didn't allow myself to feel because I was too afraid of the pain. And there it was. All backed up inside of me and she unlocked it, or at least the beginning of it. I sobbed. Loud and hard, my stomach gripping tightly but unable to hold it in. I could feel the needles like spines in my flesh. Tingling. She kept her hands on me and I could hear her almost pulliung these demons out of me. Im serious here. It was dam near a freaking excorcism.

After... I was dizzy, weak and felt hollow. I coughed up an endless amount of phlem. I tried to walk but haD trouble maintaining my balance so she sat me down and massaged my head and neck until I re-centered. I paid her and walked out feeling lighter than I had in quite some time. Quite some time.

Upon exiting I checked my messages. "Jason you have a callback for Wendies....."

So I jump in my car. Fight traffic. Pay for parking. Walk. Wait for two hours. Act for thirty seconds.

"Thankyou" says the director. "way to persevere".

"Way to perservere?" Thats a random thing to say. Hmmm.

I got in my car and something in my gut clicked. "I got it" ithought to myself. Thankyou God, I know I got this one.

Go out to studio and lay down vocals for "FREEDOM" track with Lino in west hills. Come home...lots of emails, lots of calls, lots of lists.

Wednesday: Work lunch shift. Come home and work on lyrics for next group of songs up in the studio.

Agent calls. "You are being put on avail...call back to confirm"

Avail means you are committing your availability just in case they decide to book you for the job.

REad two movie scripts. Sleep.

Thursday: Go to work....they don't need me. Slow day, so I go to get a granola and acai bowl on main street. I am in line debating coffee or tea when my phone rings. Its my agent. I can't answer, because they are either calling to tell me I got it....or that I am being taken off avail which essentially means I didn't get it.

I order....:"Yeah, I'll have a large acai and granola and a coffee" I try not to look at the waitresses cleavage but then I just give in and stare. Then look up, smile and say...."Thankyou"!

I sit down. She brings me water. I try to make eye contact but she senses my manhorns and skips off into the woods. I can' wait. I go to the bathroom and lock the door. I call my voice mail as I stare at myself in the mirror- stare at this thirty something year old boy still chasing down his dream even if it leads me to locking myself in a bathroom to hide from my own fear of yet another rejection.

But not today.

"Jason...its Jill, good news.....you booked the Wendies commercial, its a national spot- you'll be fit for wardrobe tomorrow, they will call you with details"

Someone knocks at the door.

I burst into a silent celebration dance full throttle in the bathroom raising my hands with childish exuberance. Jumping up and down like snoopy on the way to a all night party. I make no sound so as to not let the stranger waiting for the pisser in on my celebration. I want this all for me right now. I earned this dance. And I want to enjoy it.

Then I compose myself and slip out past the stranger.

More to come.

I NEED A NEW HEART....THIS ONE IS ALL BUGARRED UP-

Nov 28, 2006 11:33 PM

Scratched. Dented. Dents pounded back out. Then pounded back in. Buffed. Whoops- another accident. Rust. Smack! Ding! Repaint. Refurbish. Whoa- I didn't evan see that one coming! Well, back to the heart shop.

Crap...their closed.

Figures.

Anybody got any jumper cables? My headlights are blinking here. My ignition is stuck. I keep turning the key but nothing seems able to catch.

Where is all that smoke coming from?!

I gotta say I can't remember the last time I checked these brakes. And if I am not mistaken I think I am still running off my original spark plugs. No wonder.

Fuel gauge is low. The check engine light is aglow. Interior lights are drained. Radio won't tune in to anything but static. Windshield is cracked. Air conditioning is blowing hot air and the heater won't blow at all.

I think I have done all I can do with this old jalopy of a heart.

Think its time for Triple A. Get this thing outta here. Not evan worth a trade in. Maybe I can get a little for the scrap. I think there might be a working part in here somewhere but your guess is as good as mine.

Looks like I'll be walking from here.

OK. I think I have exhausted (pun) the car/heart metaphors for the moment- although I really could go on.

It an't easy. That is for shizouzz.

There was a time it was. When I was ignorant, irresponsible, self -involved, totally absorbed in my own pleasure or pain (was there a difference?)

There was a time that I would manipulate peoples wants or desires or needs regardless of what harm came to them as long as it brought me pleasure. As long as it served my needs for my world at the time I needed or wanted it.

What a blissful time. But such a waste.

And so now when this beautiful fall blossom gently floats onto my lap and rests ever so precariously upon my knee, I know that it has to take its course. That I cannot impede its due process. It must make its way to the ground so that it can crumble into the earth and disperse its spring seeds. And as those seeds rest in the protection of the soil from the harsh cold they are able to strengthen and replenish so that when the warmth of the sun slices through the bland fractured skies and kisses the ground again. They will then be ready to rise up through the surface. With new roots. Healthy vines pulsing with vital positive force so as to bring new life forward into the fabric of life.

Chances are by that time I will have moved from that spot. Because I am a gypsy heart. But perhaps one day I will traverse the spot again and notice a young sapling and take a short imperceptable breath. A breath that stops me and guides me to its fresh green leaves with burgeoning buds ready to burst forth and make its mark once again. And I will take a moment and remember a beautiful fall blossom that once floated down to rest precariously upon my knee.

And I will smile.

And no one will ever know.

Love will be the death of....my lonely soul brothers
But their spirit shall live on in..the hearts of all lovers.

Ya know...I think I'll hang onto this heart after all. Its got a lot of miles but its still beating along ok. A little body work. A new fuel filter. Some brake pads, one of those air fresheners- it'll be good as new. Yeah. I'll be OK.

.

THE RULES ARE....THERE ARE NO RULES.

Nov 19, 2006 6:20 PM

In light of a very strange and insignificant reaction to one of my recent journal entries I feel the time has come to once again remind myself and those who CHOOSE to come here what the purpose behind this journal is.

This is the domain of my brain. It is a place where I process and sound off to myself in order to refine, better evaluate, or simply splatter paint.

I am very cautious to write the truth on here. So far as I have ever gone back to read entries to help inform myself- there is NOTHING- untrue written in this journal. Now, that may make some people who were involved in these truths uneasy. Oh well.

Oddly- someone who I have recently extracted from my life brought up The Four Agreements to me. A wonderful book of toltec wisdom that I often buy for people who are living in confusion. As I did for this girl who as far as I can recall lives in complete denial of the four agreements yet somehow feels justified to try and throw it back in my face because she is worried about once again...herself. No surprises there.

That aside....I am glad she brought them up. I write by those agreements and do my best to live my life that way and I urge those who read this to examine their worth as well. They seem simple enough but their application is paramount in living a life of integrity.

1 Be impeccable with your word. (tell the truth...no matter what)
2 Don't make assumptions
3 Don't take things personally
4 Always do your best

That is the guidelines I use on here. I do not promote this journal to people. They simply read it if they choose. I do not write for anybody but me. This is my selfish little pleasure. However I welcome responses and usually get back to people.

What was funny about this recent reaction was that she was trying to say that what was written was not true, when it was absolutely true. And she was making assumptions about the intent of the entry and taking it personally when ultimately the journal entry had very little to do with her. I think ultimately this person is just trying to protect her own ass and her little spider web of lies/misdirections/smokescreens and other bullshit.

Very sad really.

I hope this lends some clarity to the readers. I am simply shaking rust off my brain in here. My thoughts and emotions change and evolve every moment of every day. I like to record them so I can come back and examine my thought processes and gain insight on myself. It has been a very helpful tool to me as an actor and a man and I encourage every one I know to start a journal. Perhaps not on a public forum like this, I am a unique individual in that I enjoy the risk of living out loud. I have huge balls. Always have.

Some people prefer to hide their thoughts under a pillow or gabble them to barstools or any vacant ear that will listen.

I choose to lay it out here and give you the choice as to wether or not you wish to enter in.

I will try to do better in refraining from using peoples actual names because I realize that a lot of people out there aren't comfortable with owning up and taking responsibility for the shit they do.

As for me. What you read is what you get. This is me. I an't pulling any punches for anybody. And if your worried about how you might be written about- don't point the finger at me until you have taken a good firm look at yourself.

Any questions....feel free to email me through the site.

On another note....I made a bold prediction on this site last night that the Dallas Cowboys would knock off the previously undefeated Colts.

The power of miricles.

How 'bout them cowboys?!

Hot date is here. Keep on rocking in the free world!

THE INTRACATE SPLENDOR OF IT ALL.............

Nov 18, 2006 11:48 PM

As I headed into this weekend I did so with a fervant and reaffirming vibration. I have spent the last couple weeks transitioning out of one creative endeavor while embarking on another even more ambitious.

With "TOUCH" completed and its complications severed I have been walking with a lighter spirit and found my way back to my true will. Etch a sketch baby. Keep on trucking. A rolling stone gathers no moss. The clay lays before me and this free spirit is full of expressions with not much time to be precious about things that are in last weeks newspaper. I am right here. Right now.
And that is the name of that tune.

I amaze myself sometimes with my own processes. I trick myself time and time again to open up for creativity to pass through me- virtually drain myself to the core- wonder for a day or two if I have lost it all- then wake up one day and say....OK. WHats next. Lets go.

So now I am knee deep into "Soul SHadows". My debut music CD which I have been planning and plotting in the back of my mind for some time now. I am tickled and overwhelmed at the pleasure and the pain of possibility. But I am finally at a place where I am ready and steady to share my songs. They are so very personal to me. Each one is a tiny collision of my inner thoughts/struggles/conflicts and dreams people....I know you know I got dreams!

The hardest part so far has been choosing which tracks to put together. Its like casting a play or film. You want all the parts to get along and share good chemistry- and make sense to one another while at the same time shine as individuals revealing their unique strength.

I am blessed to have Lino Allesio producing and engineering this. I am in good hands. Lino is a friend of mine and we have a certain kindred bond. We are both relatively uncomprimising artists who have been on the battlefield for a long time. We have a nice list of accomplishments and failures between us. But we share a mutual respect and admiration for each others unbridled passion to create with integrity.

My apartment is under a building tent this weekend while they fumigate for termites. Worked out OK for me since they knocked some cash off the rent and I came and stayed at The Ricks for the weekend to stock up on homemade meals, support, love, prayer, and healing. Lots a laughter. Lots of cobbler.

Looking forward to getting the vocals laid down for these first four tracks and then getting back to Ohio for a few days to visit my dad and touch base with the old rusted roots. Revisiting the old stomping grounds of my juvenile youth always inpires me. Energizes and refuels me. Its like jiffy Lube for my innards.

I got an MRI done on my shoulder this week. It was a little uncomfortable as they hit me with several injections into the joint to disperse dye into my soft tissue to try and uncover the culprit of the last six months of pain I have endured. I smiled through the whole thing though. I can't wait to get myself back up to full steam again in reference to my physical health. It really has been a source of tension within myself for a good while now and its time to get myself well. If it takes surgery...so be it.

Very excited about the progress I have made this year. All things considered. I learned some big stuff this year...and more importantly, I have managed to incorporate a lot of it. The application of knowledge. Thats props.

Far from over but.....:)

Plus Ohio State beat Michigan today. Kick ass!

And tomorrow my beloved Dallas Cowboys will pull off the upset of the year by upsetting the undefeated Indianapolis Colts. Tony Romo.....I love you.

Thanksgiving approaches and I feel so Thankful. I am blessed so bountifully. I am so ungrateful sometimes. I catch myself caught up in the "if only I had this" bullshit of this world. I catch myself being distracted and smokescreened by this town and its weak little clowns sometimes. I lean on the tradgedy of it all. But I am putting these crutches in the closet. I have been reminded very clearly of who I am and where I am going this week.

Lastly. I recieved a wonderful call from my sister today. I cannot divulge the content of the conversation, but it was so beautiful. To hear her speak so openly. With such honesty. To hear her standing up again. Thankyou God. Thankyou God.

The angels defend me.
Sleep soundly soul warriors.
Be well.

THINGS THAT MAKE ME GO HMMMMM.....

Nov 10, 2006 12:16 AM

Its funny how one day you think about a situation very gravely and then someone helps you put things into perspective and you kinda go...huh....your right, what the fuck am I thinking?!

I am really blessed to have some real solid peeps around me. The kind of people that last. That really care and know how to care. And they appreciate the care I spend on them. There is respect, and well...love.

I am loved.

And whats not to love, really?!

I was getting a massage yesterday and my guy who is AMAZING---says to me...man, what do you think of you?

I thought for a second as he dug his meatchop knuckled fists about three inches into the side of my neck.

And I surprised myself a bit but it was totally honest I said " I think I am a really great guy" With that he twisted my neck up and over and pressed two fingers squarely into my eye sockets......Just kidding....but he crunched me really good.
It was an important thing for me to recognize. I forget that I have come a really long way. I get so focussed on keeping on that I sometimes forget to look back and appreciate where i am compared to where i was. That I am now a legit great guy. Now, I make mistakes, I have some edges, but I got a lot more working in the positive than ever before. And nobody- nobody can take that away from me.

I mean, if I were a chick. I'd want me. Seriously. I'm sexy. Talented. Smart. Funny. Really very funny. Borderline hilarious. Potentially hysterical if given the right circumstances. I am charming, and I am very perceptive. I know how to get things done and have fun. I am solid. Honest. Loyal. Trustworthy. Hardworking, diligent, cuddly, sweet--And have a certain flair for haberdashery. I have accomplished a lot of things that I set out to do when I left home that balmy August night many moons ago. Climbing Jack Daniels Old No. 7 drunk onto the Amtrak passenger train headed one way to NYC. I don't screw people over. I do the right thing a really high percentage of the time. My decision making skills are getting pretty good too although I admit I have certainly whiffed on a couple. I am reliable, dependable. I say what I mean. And I mean what I say. I know how to apply my knowledge. Which means of course that I possess wisdom. Did I mention that I am rather poignantly humorous? I am a man of action. I know how to back it up. My actions speak louder than my words. I have a deep and very generous spirit. I have a poetic and surround sound soul. I'm cute. I sing pretty darn good and I can pull off rapping in public....which at my age.....a white dude.....thats balls. I am helpful and give sound and fruitful advice because I speak from an empathetic and battle tested heart. I am strong, brave, and have the ability to protect those that need protection. I am willing and able to serve my craft and help those that wish to serve it with me. I'm Almost Seinfeld funny. Ok...Ok...I'm not that funny, but seriously....I am pretty funny. I make an impact. I make a significant impact.

Feels really good to let myself accept these things about me. I will never again give myself to someone who doesn't earn me. Deserve me.

God has gifted me. ANd this tree is continuing to spring up and sprout its branches and bear fruit. I got a bit diverted here with this last project but I learned some very valuable things. And now I am excited to get on and do something with promise in it. Something with hope and inspiration and humor.

I am working on a short script idea. Its very good. Its going to be really very good.

I must now slumber.

Rest easy tonight soul warrior. Your peace awaits you.

LIKE TRYING TO SHAKE POOP OFF A STICK.............

Nov 7, 2006 11:23 PM

ODD night.

As I laid in bed taking a nap in the late afternoon after bustling about all day with various errands, odds and ends, it struck me that I was supposed to play a gig tonight.

I have been doing these little singer/songwriter showcases at this little place in Hollywood called Masquers Cabaret. I play a half hour of original songs that I am working on in the studio right now with this cat Lino. Its real quaint, laid back, with a slight coffee house creative buzz about it.

Anyway, I woke up from this nap with a pang in my gut. I know that pang. It is my instincts. My instincts were telling me something not so great was coming. Terrible thing about instincts. They let youy know something is coming but they rarely tell you what. Until....its too late.

I sat up and cradled my cell phone in my hands contemplating wether or not I should play tonight. I was feeling very drained. And this pang was knocking and I knew something not quite right was out there waiting for me.

But, I stayed the course.

Because that is what I do.

I packed my gig bag, gathered my new room mate vicki and her friend who had decided they wanted to come along. I was happy for the company because I had completely forgot to promote the gig tonight and wondered if anyone would be there for us to play to.

In the car, vicki, monica and I were all joking along famously. The caffeine from the tea I drank was kicking in just a bit and I felt a nice sensation of energy that got me excited to perform. But still....pang, pang.

We got to Masquers and it was empty. I can't say I was too surprised. I hadn't told anyone I was playing and apparently no one else had either. I saw my good bud sharif and this girl who I had played a gig with here at Masquers before. We chatted and joked and we decided we would just make the most of it and have fun playing for each other and a few stragglers and my room mate and her friend monica. Pang.

I went in and noticed a very attractive young dark haired thing with deep chocolate eyes that immediately called out to me. I went over and employed my gift for gab and threw in a few dashes of charm. I had her smiling and playing with her hair and I was already imagining what it would be like to kiss her. She had this great mouth with sultry lips and slightly crooked teeth which have always been a bit of a turn on for me. Don't ask me why.

She was of mexican ancestry. SHe was friendly and open and "real"....which when I bump into "real" out here it is soooooo refreshing because it is pretty far and inbetween out here. Pang. Harris, the owner of Masquers came in and started gabbing and we were all kinda feeling pretty zazzy and looking to make a go of it however it should work.

Then I looked up and all the pangs made immediate sense. In walked a girl and all I could do was chew my ice. It all made sense now. I should have known.

I can only guess that she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her but who knows.

A friend and I cast this girl in a recent short film project. She and I had ....an affair I guess you would call it. We slept together a handful of times and there were moments that I really felt a great tenderness for her. But I knew all the while that she was going to hurt me. But, I put the art first. I always do. I morphed the character and the content of the story and injected it into my life. I blurred the lines. To make the most of the project. I knew we could exploit the chemistry between us.

And the affair lived out pretty much exactly as it does in the film. I tried and tried to connect with her, reach her, tried to help, tried to free her- but in the end- she chooses her ghosts....and I just can't be with her anymore.

Its a difficult thing. Affairs between actors can be intense because we our human canvasses. A lot of passion runs in those veins, and when you put two people together who share a certain chemistry and unleash them into an imaginary world which gives them an opportunity to explore that chemistry. The emotional risks run pretty high. And I am an emotionally vulnerable man. Always have been. I know that. Its a blessing and a curse. It makes me a good actor, and a good person, but it also leaves me open to the takers. And this girl, although she doesn't realize it, and doesn't intend to be it.

She is a taker.

That is what she did with me.

I gave. She took.

The affair kinda petered out as she continued to teeter totter with her "boyfriend" who I am quite sure is clueless that we ever slept together.

I wish we hadn't. In hindsight. It was weakness on my part. I gave in. I blame myself for that. I should never have shared myself with someone who was not available to me. I am worth more than that. I deserve more than that. ANd it did nothing for her either other than complicate her own confusion about her "relationship" if that is what one calls that.

Its sad though. I really did, at times... thought me and her were kindred spirits. I thought we had potential to be a really positive and dynamic match.

I don't know. This whole thing...its really unfortunate. When I saw her tonight I just wanted to clean the air. I didn't want to have these bitter feelings. I wanted her to say that she was sorry, and I wanted to forgive her.

But this girl is proud and competitive...

The conversation was terse and accomplished nothing. SHe poured on about how busy she was doing things that she had been talking about doing for months. Trying to raise money to run a marathon that her boyfriend had already paid for....so now she has to raise the money to pay him back. I wonder if she will ever catch on to how in debt she is to him. I wonder why I care.

You know, there are so many wrongs and rights, blues and reds I could flesh out here. I could probably spend a seriously valuable chunk of time rehashing the string of events from the start to end of this project and its internal affair.

But any way I add it up, the equation comes to the same answer.

And it hurts. My heart.

It hurts.

And trying to shake hurt off a heart is a lot like trying to shake poop off a stick.

Its pretty messy and it stinks.

On a side note....LaToya Jackson came into Masquers and saw our gig tonight. How %^$%$^% random is THAT?!

IT IS WHAT IT IS.............

Nov 1, 2006 10:43 PM

What did the snail say that was riding on the turtles back?

WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

For some reason that is the only joke I can remember. The visual of it comes to my mind every now and again when I start thinking about how badly I want things to progress.

I get some very interesting emails sent to me in response to these journal entries. Some are very heartfelt and some are just emails of encouragement or concern.

They are all read and appreciated i assure you.

A recent email noted a certain yo-yo syndrome of being up one day and down the next. And I agree. There is a certain component of that ingrained in not only these entries but in myself. I am a rather extreme person who is in a constant struggle with balance so as to see more clearly.

For people who live in balance it is sometimes very frustrating to listen or watch someone out of balance struggle with themselves. Life in Los Angeles is very challenging. There is a vast metallic wasteland of lost souls seeking confirmation. There are a lot of cracks to fall through. The distractions are endless and the draining of ones soul must be protected lest ye through osmosis become one of them.

And sometimes you want to just lash out because there is no rhyme or reason to it. And sometimes I make the mistake of taking out these frustrations on myself because I don't want to hurt anybody. And sometimes I talk about my past or things that have had a profound effect on my adult aggravation.

A lot of people have urged me to let it go over the years. My anger and pain. And in large part I have. I won't let it all go though. I like a little anger in my core. A little pain to keep the wounds fresh. It keeps me sharp. On the edge, which is where I am comfortable and best able to create from. You can't let go of who you are. Your history.That is what makes you who you are. It is what it is and you will always be a manifestation of what your history was and how you reacted to it.

And that is what I need to remain focussed on. Is not "what happened" but how am I dealing with it and reacting to it. And I must say with all things considered I have doing pretty well for myself. I live in a sunny climate ten minutes from the beach in a nice charming apartment. I drive a reliable non-descript sedan with a sunroof. I have a job with an office that looks out over the pacific ocean and pays quite well. My co-workers are all very friendly and creative and I have a pretty good time there. I like the high pressure, fast paced stress of it all for the most part.

In the past year and a half I have produced and performed a one man show, played Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire, co-produced and starred in a short film, and am currently in the studio working on a music CD. I have also been getting out and playing my songs a couple times a month and am working on a couple other scripts and projects.

Things could be worse. In fact, they had been. Things were pretty fucking shitty until about a year and a half ago when I got the wake up call to get sober and start making some better choices.

It is a work in progress, and that is good. Progress is good. I have bad days and I have good days. Those are generally the days I feel the need to write about or express.

There are a lot of inbetween days that I don't write because I am not gonna get on here and tell you about how I brushed my teeth this morning and then sat down on the toilet with a newspaper and read the funnies while cultivating a most peculiar gastric motion.

That was never the intent here.

These are my thoughts and I share them as openly and as honestly as I can so as to have a place of reference and history for my thoughts, memories, emotional frustrations, and jubilant celebrations. I appreciate and invite all of your responses and I take them seriously and try to incorporate them into some of my entries here. But ultimately....

I am who I am.

And this journal....

is what it is.

Thankyou for sharing with me.

GETTING ON WITH GETTING ON....

Oct 30, 2006 9:29 AM

Okay, so there you have it. That last entry is me getting overwhelmed by frustration and giving into feeling sorry for myself for no good reason. It is a humbling experience to read your own thoughts and realize what an ungrateful jackass you are.

I must give credit to where it is due. My Aunt Terri whom is my mom's sister has always been full of love and support for me and my creative journey. I am very fortunate indeed to have a family who is there cheering for me regardless of their always understanding the exact direction of my passions.

Now, my Aunt Terri, (who in my friend circles is referred to as my "Hot Aunt" because she is very attractive) she like my mother, is loaded with the positive side of advice. Some of it is generic, diluted Dr. Phil advice which I admit sometimes gets on my nerves. Sometimes when things are bad I just want someone to say....wow, your life really sucks right now!

But with her (and my mom) I know it is heartfelt and genuine. And yesterday she said something that really struck a chord. A couple things actually.

One is that, all that crap I was complaining and feeling sorry for myself for makes me who I am. Those things are the inspiration of my creative imagination and joy. Without my particular past and history I would be someone else. Someone less driven perhaps, someone less on fire, someone content. And that just isn't me.

Second, is that I have a lot to be thankful for. So much more than I have to complain about. Particularly in light of my progress in the last two years. There has truly been some significant progress.

Human progress. Me, as a man, progress. Learning to turn my knowledge into wisdom. (Wisdom being the application of knowledge) Striving to deepen my integrity and my character. To be true to myself and others.

Now, I haven't been perfect, far from it. But not as far from it as I was before.

I got frustrated, angry and I threw a tantrum because I wasn't getting what I wanted or thought I deserved. That is the "baby" in me. Kicking and screaming to because I didn't get my way.

So, I turned it into a deep brooding depression where I just beat myself to a pulp and started clouding my head with doubts, and destructions. Just selfish, self absorbed behavior.

So ,thankyou Aunt Terri for pointing out those things. Thaose reflections have freed my ankle from the trap and I am getting up and moving forward with the understanding of how fortunate I am and how much I have to be thankful for.

I have a family that despite the flaws that happened has rallied to become a wonderful sense of support and material! My dad is a good man with a huge generous heart who has been their for me time and time again as an adult. I forgave him for things past long ago, and it was wrong of me to bring that back out as an excuse for my unhappiness.

My mother, brother, sister, my hot aunt terri and uncle eddie, and grandma and grandpa and---I mean seriously. I got love. Real true support and love that has given me the opportunity to fly.

I have a great job that allows me to pursue my dreams and pay the rent. I have friends that are forever. I have a great place to live, food, clothes, and imagination and creative talent and the ability to put it into action.

Feel not sorry for me. Feel not sorry jason.....ever. You are a very lucky little boy who has been very fortunate to be where you are coming from where you come from.

I gotta run.

I'm back up. My bootstraps are tightened. The horse is well.

Look out....here I come again.

UNLEASHING THE FURY...........

Oct 25, 2006 12:01 AM

I am in a state.

I've heard people say from time to time that I have a bit of an edge. That is usually when I am going out of my way to be nice.

See, my nucleus is angry. Always has been, and to tell you the God's honest truth I have pretty good reason to be pissed off about a wide array of utter bullshit that I have had to deal with in my life since I was born.

Besides the normal abusive dysfunctional fragmented family saga, besides the years of enduring criticism for being "different" or "creative" . Besides being made fun of by kids after my old man's various arrests. Besides having to watch my mothers blood splatter on white walls and drive with her to hospitols with her holding her face in her hand. Besides having her then check out and take me around to bars to "find dad"

Getting the picture at all?

I could go on and on and on.

My sixth grade teachers held a parent teacher conference with all my best friends in elementary school and told them to not let their kids hang around me. I was a "bad seed". "Wild". I went from being one of the most popular kids to being completely friendless in one day with the kids sitting on the wall jeering......."202, except for you know who!"

They didn't even say my name. Just referred to me.

This just gets me to 13. Do you really wonder why I started tinkering with drugs about this time? Do you really wonder why I began to wear make up and spike my hair in various colors? Why I began to deface public property, steal, skip school, wreak havoc in school disrupting classes and driving teachers berzerk?

Pissed off.

Still am.

I had to erase the remainder of this journal entry because it becomes increasingly dark and profane. Suffice it to say, I am in a very fragile and delicate position in my current reconstruction and I needed to vent. I wrote some things that would probably really shock a lot of people and it just doesn't behoove me to reveal that to the public. I just had to write it though. It helps me to process and clear out some thoughts.

I am so mad at myself right now. I walked right into a booby trap. Now I am tasting the pain and the resentment and I got no one to look to but me.

There is a turbulent storm writhing within this man, this boy. Its going to get worse before it gets better. So, if you believe in me, for me, close your eyes right now and pray for deliverance from this storm for me because I just don't know how to stop it.

BRINGING DOWN THE AX.......

Oct 20, 2006 1:36 AM

Today I had a conversation with my friend Jessica Rick. Jessica and I are kindred spirits of sorts. We just kinda get each other and more importantly we seem to look out for one another. Something we both seem to admit we have a hard time doing for ourselves all the time.

In the last few weeks I have been struggling with some indefinable phantoms, and some not so indefinable.

I was holding onto the possibility of a relationship that I deep down knew was no good for me. But I kept trying to justify it. I kept trying to hold out that things would change. I was fooling myself and down right lying to myself that this girl might someway fit what I needed.

Jessica laid it out there in black and white. Everything she said was true and i knew it because I felt the pit of my stomach grip my intestines in that way that only happens when I realize someone is exposing truth onto something false that I am trying to protect.

I am in a pretty fragile place. A place where it is extremely important to have the right kind of people around me. People who have my best interests in mind. Who understand where I am at and where I am trying to go. I can't allow myself to get drawn in to relationships with people who are "confused", "distracted" or otherwise "fucked up". And those kind of people float into my life like fucking asteroids. Its like I am a magnet for people who can't "figure shit out". And there I am am, oh so willing to give every last drop of my precious life energy to try and help them get it together. I easily sacrifice my own best interests to accomadate those who appear to be in need or are conciously or subconciously asking for help.

I gotta bring down the ax better. I gotta start recognizing when people are being selfish and taking from me and close the door. Its nobodies fault. Its just not my responsibility.

Now, beyond the girl- I am struggling with my own disobedience. I've been straying from my path and trying to fight my way through the jungle with a machete. My maverick mentality is not serving me well right now. I am just not accustomed to reaching out. I have always had a propensity to want to handle it. Deal with it. Now in the past I often "dealt with it" by getting hammered. It was more of an escape I guess. A numbing.

Now at fifteen months sober I gotta deal with things for real. With actual concerted thought and profound effort. And you know what? Its hard. Its hard to change your life around. To try and find a new direction at my age, at ANY age, is scary. We all wanna cling to the familiar even if it is not good for us just because it is what we know. But, I'm not going out like that.

Look, I am not where I thought I'd be by now. I really thought my life was gonna be different. But then I woke up one day and starting going :"shit, this is my fucking life!" "who have I become? And I didn't really like or respect who I had become very much. So I had to scale a pretty big wall there. I had to sit down and think about some serious shit. This isn't a joke here. I got one shot to make this thing right. And I spent twenty years feeding my ego and my impulses. It was going to take more than a couple weeks or a quick therapy session to turn this ship around in the middle of the spartan sea.

So, the beggining of change is new and exciting because....its fucking new. But the next level is when all the shimmer and shine setttles in and you are just left with a long way to go. And storms are brewing and they are coming straight for you because when you try to invoke change the universe, God, Sgt. Pepper or whtever you wanna call it will come out to test your resolve. And they will find your weakness.

(Mine is beauty, always been my kryptonite)

They come in sheeps clothing but underneath are ravening wolves.

Oh so true.

I been in a slump. Taking my swings and really hoping for the best but not making good contact. Too many distractions.

I came out here to do something. With a mission. And it wasn't to hook up with hot chicks. It wasn't to hang out and party. It was to achieve my destiny.

And I have the ability to accomplish my definite purpose in life.

Back to work.

LIGHTEN UP FRANCIS.........

Oct 19, 2006 12:16 AM

Jeeeez! Sometimes I go back and read the last journal entry before I come back. Man, sounded pretty bleak for a Birthday didn't it?!

Oh well. My dark side has always been rather active and I entertain him well here in the confines of the LA metropolis.

However, I must say that my life is in a rather stable and ready position. That may ultimately be why I haven't written much here lately. If you follow this thing with any regularity you probably notice that a lot of the entries are me grappling or struggling with some aspect or another of my existence and pursuit of truth in a world based on lies.

My job at The Lobster restaurant has given me a financial security that I have not enjoyed in years. On top of that, I actually enjoy most of the people I work with and it is rather fun, challenging, social, and fast paced. The hours are not very late or very early and the shifts are rather short which allows me to be able to lay the groundwork for new creative projects.

The latest project I worked on was a short film called "TOUCH". I co-produced it and played a leading support role as an actor in it as well. I got pretty involved in every aspect of the creative process. There were conflicts along the way but nothing of major consequence. A few bruised egos here and there, some need for attention, and some peculiar thoughts about who did what.

I notice it happens with me a lot in creative process. I am very giving of thoughts and ideas. I have an opinion and I voice it. I am pretty articulate about expressing my artistic views because I have had a lot of practice. I like to make others feel that they are a part of the process even when really they are just sounding boards reacting to the ideas that I am subliminally selling them. Then later they mention to me that "great idea they came up with"

TOUCH is a nice little nugget. It has a few flaws that I would have preferred to fix before we went rampaging into a competitive swirl of short film festival circuits but it is all just part of the curve. I was aware from the beginning that the thing was going to have certain limitations. Originally I thought it was just a project to sink my teeth into to bond with my new found friend Chriss Boggs but then we got this girl Vanessa White involved and things got a little nutty. There was a great deal of care and passion put into it. A lot of good people stepped up and gave great effort and I was really proud to be a part of it. I hope it gets in to some festival although I have to admit...I am a bit skeptical of our chances. But then, I have always had a propensity to downplay chances.

I am rambling. This is probably the most boring thing I have ever written.

But, nonetheless I just had to come here and say something to get my brain active onto this screen again. See, I need this canvas. I know I have things bottled up inside me right now that are seeking expression but I am a little numbed by my current routine.

So , I figure if I just start coming back here every day I will eventually hack through all this bullshit I am shovelling you and myself right now and get to the heart of things.

Because sooner or later, somebody, somewhere down the line, has got to get at the heart of things.

MY EXISTANCE CONTINUES................

Oct 1, 2006 2:00 AM

On this day several years ago I was born.

Now, here I sit. Alone in the dark staring at the ominous glow of my existence reflecting back to me with cluttered words and thoughts and unexpressed feelings and regrets and accomplishments all stacked on top of each other.

I stare at this pile of memories and intentions and struggles and hopes and dreams and I realize that this is my life. I am the history that I have created.

So where am I? Who am I?

I may be biting off a little more than I am prepared to divulge at this juncture of the morning, but what the hell. I have tomorrow off. Its my birthday.

Well, I suppose the big question which is still in the process of being answered is what kind of stuff am I made of. To what standards do I hold myself to. What standards do I hold those I choose to have in my life to. Am I solid? Honest? Trustworthy? Loyal? Do people seek my advice or scoff at my views? Am I a person of integrity?

How do others perceive me and how does that superimpose with the perceptions I have of myself? Or want to have of myself.

Life is complex. Fragile, and full of impulses, risks, calculations and choices, choices , choices. All of it so delicately woven together thread by precious thread. Suddenly you look down and there are patterns in the quilt. Different colors. Flaws and brilliance standing side by side that are so uniquely different yet still part of the same fabric. It is a constant work of progress. It is a living sculpture and it is ourselves we are seeking to create.

I haven't been writing much lately. Some of that is due to the fact that I have been overwhelmed with transition and complications. Some is that my inspirations have been worn down because of investment in other creative projects and some heart excursions. Some of it is that I have not had a handle on what my life experience was saying to me. And some is just because I haven't had a clue how to articulate all the things that have been swirling inside of me.

Its like I was playing in the waves with my feet firmly dug into the sand. I was bobbing and weaving in, over and under various breaks in the tide. I was moving out further and further into the unknown and was reacting with great agility. And then, for a combination of reasons I could no longer resist the temptation to look back towards the shore. Back to the farmiliar island that I was straying farther than I had ever strayed from. And in that very instant that I lost focus. The very second I allowed my attention to be distracted from the clear path that I was following so faithfully. A huge and powerful wave slammed over me and pulled my feet right out from under me. My body sent swirling and disoriented underneath the pressure of cascading bubbles, weight, and darkness. I felt the absolute panic and fear of not knowing which way was up or down. Sense of balance distorted to an extreme degree so that the simplest task now seemed to be virtually impossible.

I felt myself desperately thrashing to find air. My next breath. To avoid suffocation. Drowning. Eternal darkness.

I think I managed to find the surface but the swells are causing great turbulence and the water is choppy. My feet are not touching and I am a bit at the mercy of the various tides and the surrounding corral beneath that is poised to shred my flesh at any time which will send the scent of my vulnerability to the sharks that would love nothing more than to make me their prey.

A MAN TO STAND........

Sep 1, 2006 11:19 PM

When I was young I was an avid baseball player. Big time little leaguer. I played with great passion. Travelled with a city league made up of all star players. I was a catcher so I was in on every pitch. Every action that took part in the game involved my full focus and concentration. In baseball, the catcher is the field general. He is the guy who is shifting the infield, sending signals to first and third for pick off throws. Alerting the shortstop of double play opportunities and cut off position. He also sends the pitch signals and pitch location to the pitcher based on his research of each hitter. Calls for outfield shifts and depth. Makes sure everyone knows how many outs there are and where all the runners are. He is the captain of the ship so to speak. For every pitch, every out, inning after inning, game after game. And baseball is a long season. Even in little league.

(a point is forth coming)

To be successful, you have to have stamina. A strong constitution, physically and mentally. You can't afford many mental breakdowns because everyone grows to depend on you. They have to trust that you are on top of it because without you they run the risk of being out of position and that can lead to bad things happening.

But- as a season progresses it is easy to get comfortable. Easy to start thinking you got it covered. That you have a system of doing things that you do at a certain level and you can phone it in if need be from time to time. You start underestimating the opponent and feeling a little too overconfident in yourself. And that is when the other team can jump on you and run up the score. Next thing you know, you are sucking dust clouds from their cleats running round and round the bases because you lost focus. You got distracted. Lazy. You got lulled to sleep.

We are all the catchers of our own lives. We send the signals, and reel in every pitch, we shift our defenses strategically to protect our home plate. We are involved in every moment wether we like it or not. We effect every choice that happens in the infield of our souls, the diamond of our hearts, and the outfield of our desires.

And life, like a baseball season, is long. There are ebbs and flows. Streaks and slumps. And you have to maintain a balance of understanding and apply it to the task at hand while keeping perspective on the big picture.

Rome wasn't built overnight, and neither were the yankees.

I remember being in the midst of one season, and we were on a long winning streak, maybe 10 or 12 games in a row. Within that streak we had beaten some excellent teams, some were teams we had never beaten before. We were on a roll. Kicking ass and taking names. We were gaining notoriety as a team to be reckoned with. I was hitting very well. Really crushing the ball and was batting in the clean up spot. My arm was also in great shape and teams were getting reluctant to even try to steal a base on me. We were good and we knew it. We had championship trophies on our minds when we went to Brimfield to play a team that we had crushed several times already that season. They were a team of round, pudgy, soft kids. Smaller, weaker. We walked onto their field like we were the kings of the wild frontier. Laughing and horse playing. Spitting and strutting, our cleats clicking blue off their asphalt parking lot. We were all chewing tobacco and bubble gum mixed together. Cocky as all hell. We were aiming to murder these little weed whackers just for being on our schedule.

I remember strapping into my gear for the first inning. I was thinking about after the game I was going out with my high school honey and where we might be able to park the car to make out. I was thinking about how much money I had for gas. What I was gonna wear. I didn't even bother looking over the hit charts from the previous games we had played against them. Why bother. Dan Heideman was pitching. And Dan Heideman was flat out feared. He was a monster on the mound. I had to wear two batting gloves with a sponge tucked in on my left hand to protect my palm from getting bruised to all hell when I caught for him. He had pro scouts looking at him from the time he was fifteen.

But Dan Heideman's thoughts must have also been wandering that day.

That first inning those clumsy little chubby, scared looking kids managed to put up 6 runs.

We hadn't given up 6 runs in the first all season. We were so shocked we tried to overcompensate with our bats, swinging hard at bad pitches. I remember flailing at a pitch that was over my head for a third strike.

They tacked on two more runs in the second and we found ourselves trying to dig our way out of a deep hole that we were not accustomed to being in.

The tables had been turned and we were suddenly in unfamiliar territory. We had a slip in our mental prep and by the time we realized it, we were down eight runs and had to dig deep and fast.

Now we had good coaches. And we were a superior team. So, we re-focussed, recouped, and eventually came back and overtook them. But it was a much harder battle than we had ever anticipated and I remember us walking back across that asphalt parking lot feeling much different then when we had arrived. We were quiet and doubtful feeling very lucky that we had escaped there with our streak in tact. We left there less confident. Shaken. And we ended out losing our next two games, before bouncing back and winning a tournament trophy.

Now I am not hear to rehash old baseball stories. (Although I could- I possess a but load of them:)

There are a couple of points to this story that relate to the current series I am engaged in the context of my spiritual life. One is that, you have to stay sharp and focussed even when you are on a roll. The enemy will continue to come after you. Even the ones you have beat down time after time. They probably want you the most. They hate you. So they are gonna keep coming, harder and faster, trying to find a way to get to you. A crack to slip in and pick you apart.

The other point is that, even if they do slip in, catch you off guard, and tally up some runs against you.....you don't fold. You dig deeper. And you strike back. A game is not won in one inning. Don't lose your composure and let fear lead you to destruction. Go back to the basics. Remember what got you here. Listen to your coaches. Recoup. And come out blasting.

Now I recently had some runs scored against me. I got a little caught up in a game of hot box between two bases and got myself winded. This gave the enemy ample opportunity to kick me while I was looking the other way and so of course, they did.

But, this game an't over. JPF has chops and I know where I came from and how I got here. I been in rougher infields before and probably will again but this is a good little wake up call. I got shook up. And now I must respond.

And I respond with creation. That is how God wired me. That is my purpose.

Trifling with matters of the heart and all the inherent pitfalls that come with it (confusion, lust, trust or mistrust, miscommunication, resentments, fears, insecurities) is just a way the enemy tries to distract you so that they can slip in and score some runs.

And you have to make a choice to respond to their rally. You have to take a stand and say....NO MORE! NOW TAKE THAT! AND THAT! AND THAT!

How ya like me now.....?!

Life is long, and we all slide off the tracks here and there, but that is where you see what you are really made of. Can you dig deep? Recover and respond? Or do you just lay down and take the beating?

Me, I choose to fight. So long as there is breath.

I may not win them all.

But I am sure as hell gonna try.

I choose to be a man to stand.

SWAYING IN THE GRAY AREA.....

Aug 30, 2006 9:03 PM

Sometimes you just find yourself sailing across the landscape of life with the wind filling your sails, the refrigerator is full, the bills are paid and you find a crumpled twenty dollar bill in the pocket of your jeans from the week before that you had totally forgotten about.

Sometimes you feel so content and happy that you just whistle for no reason hopping from task to task with all life's little foibles just falling into distant memories like old text book history chapters.

Sometimes you start to sense a shift in the core of the earth that sends you a soul signal that the energies of the universe are now tipped to your advantage and the seat bell sign has been turned off. You are free to roam about and do as you wish without any hesitation or concern for consequence.

Now, when this happens, and it happens to all of us. It is amazing how quickly we forget how miserable and hard life seemed not even two days prior. Suddenly we knew all along what we were doing and of course we arrived in the pole position because we are just all that and ice cream too.

We begin to justify all the hardships of the past as subtle genius and .........

Hmmm.... I just caught myself.

I caught myself trying to be clever and write something that people might read and say......"Oh, that Jason".

That is not the intent of this journal. It never has been and I won't let it. This page was created for the purpose of me having a place to spill my guts. And that is why I am here. I got guts to spill.

When one passes a mile marker, you have a propensity to start looking back. There is a curiosity to think about how far you have come, how far you have progressed. But if your not careful and you allow yourself to get lost in the memories of how far you've come, you can break stride and very quickly pull up lame.

Now, in the last thirteen months of sobriety I have made some serious fucking progress. Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially, even sexually.

And when you get through the jungle a bit and hack yourself free, you find yourself in a large clearing. A clearing that you fought tooth and nail to get to.

But why?

You tried to give yourself a better place to make a better choice.

But now you have to figure out what choice to make.

And then you have to figure out how to carve that path.

And that is where I am. I see myself standing in the middle of an infinite field of rolling grass. The wind is swirling and the sun extends across an endless horizon. My backpack is full with food and supplies. I have secure shelter and support at various checkpoints. All systems are go but......

Where do I go......?

You fight for freedom but then if you gain some amount of it, you have to do something with it. Otherwise it is just another missed opportunity.

When I moved to LA two years ago I was so conflicted and steeped in emotional muck. I was spiritually dead and I was in a steady habit of anesthesia in one form or another. My heart was shattered, my dreams were becoming nightmares, my imagination was blacked out, and my hope lights were flickering at best.

LA was an excuse. It was a place to run and hide.

Then I got here and initially I just started to fold. I started to give up...internally. I started to compromise solutions to myself that would make failure seem palatable. I let go of the rope I had been playing tug of war with for so long and just let myself sink into the sand. I quickly found myself doing some hard core self destruction in a variety of forms and for long sustained periods of time. I walked to the edge, and looked a little further over once again. I tested my resolve and for the first time the consideration of jumping off didn't seem like all that crazy of an idea.

Enter God.

Its unfortunate that I had to waste so much time and energy trying to wrestle with demons in order to understand that I don't have to pin demons down to walk with God. I can just walk away, and God will just light the way.

So, I did. I walked away. And now I have been walking away for a long time in reference to my history. And I find myself reaching a place where I say....what now? The last year seems to have been about getting away from the big pile of shit I had been playing in. And somewhere along the way I am starting to formulate a new vision as the light brings clarity.

But now I am sitting here, feeling like I don't wanna go back, but I am not sure in whcih direction to go to keep moving forward. And in the interum I sense the demons are not all that far behind. As though they have been chasing me as hard as I have been running away. They are right there. So I can't rest here too long. I gotta keep moving. Onward. Upward.

I am swaying in the gray between the darkness and the light.

I gotta make a move.

SOUL SHADOWS

Aug 20, 2006 11:11 PM

There is no possible way I can fill in the blanks of the last couple months since I have been here. Its like I stepped in quicksand and have been spiraling through catacombs of lost time in a desperate attempt to catapult something...somewhere.

I must have made a wrong turn at Albaquerque.

None the less I had to come back here. Its like reuniting with an old girlfriend. I am a little nervous and feel slightly awkward but there is a familiarity that lets me know that a connection still exists.

Well, I guess i can tap on the major pop ups of the recent past as I will probably be fleshing some of them out. I am pretty bottled up here. Things are stuffed way down into my soul caverns and it feels like all kinds of things are stuck together and intertwined like a bunch of tangled cords knotted tightly and stuffed into a bottom drawer.

I went to Maui and swam with a sea turtle. I flipped a Khayyak and survived. I met a girl from Israel and should have had an affair but didn't. Danced with a professional hula dancer with whom I should have had an affair but didn't. Then met a hot aussie neighbor with whom.....but didn't. I was holding out for someone who wasn't holding out for me. In the past I would have said that makes me a big fat fucking sucker, but, this time under the circumstances it was me just holding strong against past patterns of destruction that might give birth to a more promising potential situation pertaining to my heart.

Just before Maui, I produced a f Short film with my good new friend Chris Boggs.. Chris has quickly become an integral friend and partner in passion. What is so invigorating is that we are both spiritual warriors who share a talent and passion for stories. It is a rare combo and a real miracle how we came to be friends. More on Boggs later.

We cast a girl named Vanessa White to play opposite me in the film. I fought against it a little at first but soon agreed she was the one to play the role. Vanessa and I have since constructed a very interesting, and a tad peculiar friendship that is surrounded by all sorts of preposterous circumstances.
More on Miss White to come.

Crap. I gotta go to work.

For those who come here faithfully, I am sorry for this recent dormant period. Sometimes as a writer I gotta get out there and let life happen to me for a bit so I have something to respond to and record. Sometimes the words that articulate my expressions aren't available to me. Or sometimes I am just expressing myself in other ways. But, I feel a wave coming so please continue to visit and feel free to respond at any time.

Be well.

YOU GOT TO KNOW WHEN TO HOLD

Jul 2, 2006 1:46 AM

It bleeds.

When you put things away for safe keeping,(such as your heart) as time passes, you begin to grow a certain confidence that you have hidden your feelings well. You easily wisp in and out of each day and no one so much as raises an eyebrow that you don't mention love, talk about love, or even the possibility of it.

Randomly people will ask..."Oh, are you seeing anybody?" But that is easily deflected with a cliche response of your choice, a subtle quip and a redirection of topic.

At times, when you are alone your heart might beckon you from its tightly secured quarters and inquire if you have forgotten about it. It will pull on you like puppy eyes under a dinner table. But you know- if you give it one taste, one bite, it will just want more...and more...and more.

So, you look away. Pretend not to see or hear it. Ignore the scratching on your skin and constant plea for the slightest scrap of attention.

You discipline and train yourself to just acclimate to life with your heart on injured reserve. It is under construction and life must go on. So you adjust, adapt, and keep on keeping on.

Then, after focussing your energy in other areas for some indeterminate amount of time you decide to creep down to the cellar and see how the old heart is fairing. Has it fully recovered? Is it still beating? Could it dare be set free?

You peek into the dungeon and there in the shadows beats a very tender , very protected organ that can lead you to the highest mountains or the depths of the deepest seas.

So, you ponder and wonder when and if you should expose it back into the system and let it assume its position. For better or for worse, until death do us part.

But, now your scared because you have had this thing locked down for so long that you are now accustomed to not having to deal with it. The heart is a fickle and sensitive and complex flower that is at the mercy of all the elements of life, at any given time. Its beautifully unpredictable.

And as you weigh your options, somebody catches your attention. Just when you were sure that you were fine with being alone. Bam. Something divine appears in your path. Something that you have only dared to dream about in your most sacred and solitary moments takes shape right in front of you and you are suddenly distracted.

And in that instant, the cellar door that had protected your heart for so long is left ajar. And in that moment when you look away it slips right out past the guards and into the playground of emotional responsibility.

You quickly try to figure out if you should order your heart back. STOP heart! I command you to stop feeling things! But it doesn't listen. For the heart does not listen to the voices of logic and reason but rather revels in the moments of sheer bliss and infinate pain.

And at first you are happy to see your heart jumping about playfully again. Gleefully bounding through the day climbing ladders and gliding down chutes. It is having so much fun and you sense that it is stronger than before. You convince yourself that it is OK. The heart will not betray you again as it has done in the past. It most assuredly has learned its lesson and can now be trusted to make the right choice.

So you let it go on its merry way, and then when you are actually starting to trust it just in the slightest, the heart hits a snare in the woods and nicks himself.

Just enough to break the skin and taste your own blood.

Just a scratch, but enough that others might notice.

So now you have to decide.

2 be continued.....

WHISPERS WITHIN MY HEART....

Jun 24, 2006 7:04 PM

Its beating again. The dorment volcano that I had cautiously lured into a long, cold, winter hibernation has been stirred. The warm rush of positive energy vibrations are creating vital signs that remind me that as long as there is life, there is hope, and if there be hope, then might there be love?

Love is a word that illicits a lot of debate. Its definition is indefinable, infinate, and everchanging. Is it a feeling, a choice, a response, a responsibility, a burden, or a gift?

I do not portend to know but will take a wild swing in the dark that it is some combination of all these things.

A complex potpourri indeed.

It is a concoction I made a concerted effort to leave behind sometime back opting to focus on the almighty "me". I knew that there was much work to be done to better prepare my soil for the possibility of a future seed.

Now, before anybody starts jumping to any conclusions that the ever introspectre jason has fallen in love.....let me just say, easy killer.

That is not the case at all. In fact, falling in love is not something I seek anymore. "Falling" conotates losing ones balance, and blurring the lines of ones self into someone else so that you become lost. The notion is more fatalistic than romantic in my opinion. Not that I haven't allowed myself to be pulled under by the kinetic magnet of masochism in the past....I have. But, I have reassessed and made a choice to re-articulate my search.

I am seeking someone to stand next to me IN love. An equal with whom I can share and explore passion. Passion with, and passion for. A force to compliment and highlight the gift of life. Moving forward with dynamic power and confidance, in the name of creation and beauty. An alliance of all essential elements...trust, faith, support, friendship, laughter, and really healthy-crazy CrAZY good sex:)

The right kind. The kind that makes sense. That fills instead of drains. That supports instead of distracts. The kind that makes me feel the rush of a mighty wind. The kind that reminds me of waterfalls cascading across my soul and cleansing my emotional debris. The kind that parents approve of. The kind that makes me feel connected to the big picture of unity, the human experience, and the journey through the jungle of destruction to the oasis of intertwining faithful bliss.

A bit much?

Perhaps, but I am here to defy the odds as the retro romantic.

I am not a metrosexual. I am a man.

A man on a mission to get back to even.

There is no time to waste anymore. And prying ajar the rusted door of this old jalopy of a heart is a good thing. It needed to feel the breath of possibility..

And quite frankly I just am ready to fire up the engines and blaze a trail down old thunder road. If for nothing else than to take the chance on winning. To take the chance that maybe it is meant to be, and maybe things can be great and wonderful and perfect. And maybe there is a soul mate out there that makes the whole world make sense or at least seem bearable and maybe true love is more than just something shakespeare wrote about and people make fun of and maybe there is a well of glory that lies undiscovered if I just dig a little deeper and am willing to just expose myself a little more and maybe all the pain I have inflicted upon myself will heal in the waiting arms of the wounded angel that has returned for her soul warrior....

maybe dreams can come true.

Its gotta be worth the race right?

What else have we got?

Playing it safe has never been for me.

I want it all. And I will die trying.

This is my time. I can't change the past but I can choose the future.

Let the games commence.

On your mark...get set...

GO!

GUT CHECK.........

Jun 14, 2006 11:49 PM

I feel like I have swallowed a bowling ball. Its just sitting there in my gut and I can't do a dam thing with it. It is in response to to a swirl of interaction that has been happening in my soul interior as of late with some new people and situations.

Don't get me wrong, they are actually all positive things and people, but I think the overflow of activity and assessment has just taken an overall toll on my constitution.

I started a new job which required a preposterous amount of effort and sacrifice on my part to get integrated into. It is a really good thing, a blessing, yet still it has drained me and I am reeling trying to find time to reload my system so as to make the most of it.

At the same time I have kept my old standby gig which has just detracted from much if any "free" time.

On top of that I have put my hat into an independant short film project that has come with its own set of particular demands and complexities. I think it will be a fruitful result and I really am fond of everyone involved....

Maybe too much so.

I am conflicted as to where I stand in the perceptions of others at times. Its something I have struggled with from time to time in my life. I tend to need to hear things in black and white as opposed to pulling the color signals together to create a clear picture.

I am being vague and allusive here.

Its on purpose.

I am conflicted about some feelings that have been inspired by an unexpected person and I am trying to filter them in a positive way.

Its hard. A little scary even.

The point isn't really about the person so much as it is forcing me to realize that I have really not addressed to myself where I stand as far as what I am looking for in my life in regards to possible relationships.

I have half heartedly entertained some dates, and fancied a few bonnets here and there but with little chase as I have been so focussed on getting my shit together out here.

I use my obsession for creation to divert myself from my lonliness a lot. So much so that sometimes I think I just accept it as a part of life. Being lonely is who I am. A lone wolf. An outsider.

But to respond to my own creed I would have to say, isn't that a choice I make?

I certainly could make more of an effort to play the field but to what end?

That is the question that is plauging me. What is it I want to pursue. Marriage? A long term relationship? A friend with benefits? A booty call? Someone who will listen to my endless pontifications and metaphorical views on human nature?

Sometimes I annoy myself.

Sometimes you annoy me. :)

Whatever.

Part of me just says lay low and be true to yourself and the path that is lit and the right people and things will come to you naturally and you will know what part they will play in your life.

Another part of me says you gotta define what you want and then grab it.

Another part says why play the game at all?

Another part of me says smoke a cigarette and shut the #%$#$^$ up.

I talk too much. And when I do I usually say a bunch of shit I wish I wouldn't of said upon further review.

I am so inspired by storytelling. And I am very open to rehashing old folklore tales about my "old" self and what a juvenile debaucle I was. And afterwards I always feel sick to my stomach because I know that that is not who I am. That behavior was in response to negative stimuli that has been gone from my life for years.

Its like I brag about it to get a reaction and then I am ashamed of it and feel sheepish that I opened my mouth.

But what else do we really have but our history of choices and actions to define ourselves to other people?

Nothing.

This rambling has gotten us nowhere. I still have a bowling ball in my gut and I am going to smoke a grit on top of it and go to bed and hope that when I wake up tomorrow I will cross over into a new atttitude. An enlightened rebirth of sorts and all this will simply be intestinal regurgitation that is nothing more than coordinated words on a empty screen.

I guess I just feel like I have invested and committed so much into making something happen and I just want some big something to come along and sweep me up and fly me off to the moon.

Just to confirm that I am making progress.

But I guess that is what a gut check is all about.

Its about digging deeper than others are willing to for belief in a higher goal.

Its all gonna work out.

It'll all be okay.

Angels will appear and I will be safe.

Goodnight lovers.

WALKING THE WALK.....

Jun 5, 2006 11:13 PM

We all have dreams. Visions. Secret aspirations.

We all deep down inside have a certain idea as to how plausible some of those dreams are.

Some can happen. Some probably won't. Others are a lottery ticket.

Then there are those that can come true, if you are willing to sacrifice. Willing to risk it, and willing to walk the walk.

As I have grown older I have become more reluctant to say what I want because I have become a person who tries to apply the "action speaks louder than words" motto.

If you want something, surmise how you can attain it. Make the effort, invest and commit and it will happen. End of story.

Now, obviously some things are going to be easier than others. If you wanna lose five pounds, eat soup and drink a gallon of water everyday for ten days and your there. BAM.

Want some new shoes....cut your budget somewhere else so as to afford them and they are yours.

But to capture a dream requires a much more long term plan. And the longer term a plan is, the more room there is for diversion and obstacles. The more room there is for doubt and ridicule. You have to have enough spine to stay the course but flexible enough to re-route your game plan if an exit is closed and you have to take the detour.

Its like an obstacle course. An endurance test.

And I am training for the Iron Man.

I just went through a grueling two week training program for a new support job. A job that is NOT my vision, dream or goal. But, it is a job that will give me the opportunity to better pursue those dreams.

Yep. Its a waiter job. But this one is special as far as waiter jobs go. It is a beautiful place right on the pacific ocean. The food is great, the people who work there are cool and happy. They are happy because they make fat bank.

The reason so many actors wait tables in pursuit of there dreams is a simple equation. We need jobs that provide maximum flexibility, and the potential to make as much money as you can in as little time as possible so that you have time, energy and funds to compete in the market place.

Its that simple.

Its not because we all enjoy self debasing, mid-evil mind torture and dealing with condescending rich pricks and clueless pretentious assholes. Although there is great observation opportunities in the waiting profession.

Anyway. This job came as a blessing. I had been praying to meet better friends, and this guy Chriss Boggs walks up to me at the gym out of the $^%$%^ blue and starts talking about he knew me back when. I had no idea who the guy was but he seemed genuine and grounded and I knew that we were placed together. As we began hanging out I voiced my need for a better financial view in order to get ahead on some of my visions. Chris said he used to work at this restaurant and made great cash- but that it was tough to get in. "Would you make a call and check in for me?" "No problem" he says. A couple days later I get a call to head down there that day. Turns out they been looking for somebody but haven't found the right guy. I zipped down there and put on my smiley.

Four interviews later I was offered a position which would be determined by my ability to complete a two week intensive training course which would immerse us in service procedures, food preparation, and wine, wine wine!

You would have thought I was being offered to join Nasau.

Whatever. The point is- I got it. Then I made it through the training scoring in the high nineties percentile on each of our daily tests and then I rocked the three hour half verbal, half written final exam.

This is no job at Denny's folks. This is a place where one waiter made over 70,000 beans last year. Thats not bad for only clocking about thirty hours a week.

See what I'm saying? Maximum money....minimal time.

Thats why actors seek these kind of gigs. And I have been seeking for this kinda support gig for awhile. I didn't want to write about it till I accomplished it, but its done. I am on the schedule. The job is mine to lose but I am not gonna lose it because I have come far enough in my current walk to understand that this is a God giving me yet another chance to walk the line. The right way. The right opportunity to lay the groundwork.

I will have temptations with this job. With money will come the want for more. It is the nature of the beast. But I am going to follow my inner light one day at a time. Chipping away at this redwood tree called LA.

I know you all are probably saying..."great...a waiter job...woop de doo!"

But trust me...out here in LA, if your trying to do what I want to do and you gotta do something else to help you get there, this is the place that can help you make it happen. I have gotten more congratulations from my actor friends out here because of this waiter gig than I did when I booked Streetcar. Why? Because they know the potential involved with the opportunity.

So, here I sit once again. I worked my way from the bowels to the captains deck. Now I got a chance to steer the ship.

In the past this would have been the time when I decided it was time to celebrate with self destruction.

But not this time. This time, I am just going to thank God, write about my joy and happiness to have this opportunity and go to bed.

Its called "The Lobster" by the way.

Well, so...I am a waiter waiting to act.

For now.

ATROPHE....

May 27, 2006 12:11 AM

Sometimes life can deplete you. It demands you to sacrifice all that you hold dear in order to reach a higher goal. There are no short cuts to creating a path to originality. In a world that is enamored with the cross breeding of old ideas- and regurgitating clever slop- all in the name of immediate gratification, it becomes increasingly difficult for the purest to come to light.

But I shall not be deterred.

My purpose remains in tact.

I have had to make some concessions as of late to provide a stronger foundation for my future goals. I have had to deal with some health and physical issues without rest. I have had to learn the hard way just how cold and heartless the market place is in LA. It has put into clear perspective where I stand, who I am, how much time I have left to try and put the pieces of my destiny together.

My faith is being tested and I am responding like a wounded soldier. Frustrated by my constraints- knowing how much I can do but unable to unleash my fury due to nature taking things out of my control.

Patience.

But, as I learn to obey the path that is lit for me regardless of my objections I have begun to notice the pegs of change digging deeper into the soil and the roots of my sacrifice taking hold.

Laying the roots is a painstaking process that requires a lot of preparation and repetition so that when your stem breaks the soil and begins to reach for the sky it can withstand the elements that will inevitably test your resolve. No one ever see's your roots. No one compliments you on the things that they cannot see. They only sense it in the way you react to the pressures when the heat is upon you.

I needed to change my game plan. I had to allow flexibility while at the same time stiffening my back bone to manifest a new shape, so that the shadows would follow suit.

Good choices lead to positive change. Bad choices leave you wondering what happened. And not dealing with the repercussions of your bad choices leads you to gray mass of anesthesia. Overwhelmed, seeking recluse from the storm that you manufactured and wonder why it keeps finding you.

I decided to get out of the rain. I am putting my umbrella in the closet and am going to walk through this adventure called life with my chin up, my eyes forward, and my heart filled with passion instead of fear.

People have always been skeptical of me. Im fine with it. People have often ridiculed me. I deal with it. Sometimes well, sometimes not.

I have had to extract much cancer out of my life in the last five years. Painful emotional surgeries that have at times left me reeling with doubt, emptiness and anger. But, I kept getting up.

Then one day, a little more than ten months ago, I just said-I'm not sitting down anymore. And since then the challenges have become steeper. And I have become stronger. The snags have cut deeper. I have healed faster and the scars serve as reminders to where I am and where I was.

There is much to recover from when you have allowed yourself to be led as far into the den of suffering as I allowed myself. It was in the name of exploration at first- but wandered into self inflicted wounds of confusion and pain.

It is an interesting experience to be a person.

It is a divine experience to become the person you were intended to be.

There is much work to do. There will be tears, blood and sweat. I will experience the sting of lost friendships, lost loves, and damaged dreams, only to realize that their rejection was simply God's protection. Protection from their ills being imposed on my will. Protection from diversion of a useless nature.

I know what to do to achieve the me that I was designed to be. So I am keeping my blistered hands wrapped tight around this shovel and ax. If I am going down, you can bet your sweet ass I am going down swinging.

CATCHING UP WITH MYSELF.......

May 21, 2006 11:14 PM

So- I get back from Vegas and my head is sunburned. Torched. I am talking the scalp. The dome. The encasement of my brain. It is fried up like a pickle pepper in Peter Pipers pickle patch.

This of course, is because we insisted on driving through Death Valley in the peak of the afternoon sun with the top down on our candy apple red '06 Mustang Convertable. I mean, fuck it- if we got a convertable- the top is going to be down other wise, what is the point, right?!!

After carefully dabbing aloe vera all over my head and figuring out how to fall asleep with my scalp feeling like it is prepared for brain surgery- I feel a tingle in the back of my throat.

The next morning I can't swallow. My eyes are stinging and I have a grapefruit size lump of compacted snot where my brain used to be. I immediately concede to the fact that I am ill and go to the Dr.

I walked in and demanded pills. "Give me drugs...make me better" I said half joking to the receptionist as she handed me a clipboard asking all the usual crap that has nothing to do with my paIN. I mean- How many times do I have to fill out my fucking address in this lifetime? I mean, enough already.Is that gonna make me feel better having you know where I live?

There is a paper trail of contact info from here to eternity.

Anyway- I wait. Finally the Dr. saunters in. She is hotter than a Dr. should be and I suddenly felt a little self concious. It's hard to muster much game when she is shoving a cold metal instrument in your ear.

I take some deep breaths and she tells me I have allergies. Here is where me and the Dr. part company.

"Bullshit- I'm sick, give me antibiotics so I can get better fast- I am busy this week and I can't be sick".

She goes into some new age dissertation about the overuse of antibiotics in the medical field. And she has chosen ME to take a stand. I swear I don't make this shit up. My life is literally drowning in constant absurd conflicts which seem so improbable, but....whattya gonna do??!

I am arguing with my Dr. on my own diagnosis and what prescription she is writing me. She tells me not to smoke any more cigarettes and gives me some samples of Allegra and a prescription for an inhaler to clear my bronchials.

The bill.....$128.00

No joke.

She looked in my ear, took my temperature, handed me some allegra (available at your local drug store) and whacked me for a buck and a quarter.

I won't repeat the things that I was saying to her as they ran my debit card but lets just say they were things better left unsaid. But, I was miserable and felt robbed. I really wanted pills.

I took a week of using her stupid remedies but I eventually got kinda better. However, in the mean time I woke up with a neck stinger. Just woke up, and BANG. Couldn't move my neck. Total lock down. And still with the allergies. Oh brother.

Five adjustments and electric stim treatments later I am able to look to my right again.

to be continues.....

I HAVE COME FROM THE MOUNTAIN..............

May 4, 2006 4:51 PM

Every so often in life you experience something that kicks so much ass that you just have to hop on and ride the wave for all its worth.

I have been to the mountain. The mountain has spoken. I have returned from the mountain.

Last Sunday I drove to Vegas in a brand new fire engine red Mustang convertable. I topped out at speeds of 130mph through death valley with Depeche pounding out into the desert. The car was a rental. A gift from one of my Rick chicks, who also decided to tag along at the last second which made the trip all the better. Jessica is a very special angel.

The elements of sun, sand, and wind whipped us into a frenzy as the power of our muscle machine tore past all who dared to impede our mystical tour. Jessica is a novice mode fan, but she had three hours of one of the greatest mode tour guides known to man in me, and by the end of the night she was shelling out money for t-shirts, posters, and CD's.

She has been converted.

Maybe not a devout, but converted.

We stayed at The Tuscany Inn and Casino which I love because it is the antithesis of the big hotel casino's. It is quiet, quaint, with Tuscan landscapes, fountains and architecture. In stead of one big building it is several small bungalows and you feel relaxed and comfortable.

We checked in, ate, and went to the large room with deluxe bathroom to shower and prepare.

We darted to the Hard Rock an hour early on our stealthy topless steed and I peeled out in the parking lot like an asshole and ripped up into the parking garage. What can I say.....I was real excited.

We slipped into the show without delay and found our way to the seats I purchased. Perfect.

She wants revenge came out and opened with a fine little set. Catchy but I bored quickly in anticipation of the earthly melodic masters of musical majesty that were soon forthcoming.

When Mode took the stage the crowd went berzerk. I felt a serge of energy propel through my veins like a shock wave. An electronic current saturated my flesh and I felt an inner warmth engulf me. Dave Gahan the lead singer, strutted across the stage like a peacock in full bloom but without trying one bit to draw any attention., He knew all eyes were on him.

These are my heroes I remember thinking. These are the only people I wish I was instead of me sometimes.

For two solid hours they levitated the crowd with their lyrical genius. It was a passionate and energetic display of perfection, and the crowd responded like school children at recess. I saw people crying. Grown men like myself with eyes closed mouthing each word to songs that spoke so personally to them as so many of their songs do to me. Savoring and basking in the soothing and prophetic sounds that help life make sense to the outsiders that so cling to the ideals that mode represents.

Love and complexity. Truth and pain. Sex and hope. Vice and beauty.

I remembered the first time I heard them. I was 11 years old, my brother had been given a bootleg tape of a few of their songs from some friend of his who had stolen a bunch of underground tapes from a party.

I was immediately drawn and captivated by their sound and remember listening to the song "Photographic" over and over to learn the words. Soon I was dancing in the mirror playing full on concert to the tape in childhood imaginary splendor.

I still to this day sing their songs in the mirror and remember my dream of wanting to be Depeche Mode. Wanting to reach people the way they do. So deeply. So pure. Really beautiful.

And now twenty four years later I was still dancing like a wild cat singing aloud every word of every song, raising my heart in celebration of their universal pull towards epic creation.

I have been high all week from the experience and thus haven't been writing because I just wanted to revel in it. We all have our thing that we reserve the right to protect as our "special" thing. And that was mine. And it was perfect.

My life is flowing in a rush of activity that has me ripe with anticipation as to how things will unfold. I am meeting wonderful new people, having fantastic opportunities unfold, and seeing the fog begin to lift off of what was once an landscape cloaked in smoke.

I wake each day with a little more clarity. I am honing in on my inner gifts, and grasping how to utilize them. I am starting to see the edges of my destiny and I can't wait to wrap my arms around it.

Be well.

GOODNIGHT LOVERS.............

Apr 29, 2006 9:15 PM

Here I sit. Saturday evening, 9:08pm on the eve of my trip to las vegas to go see Depeche Mode. An event I have been waiting for for about four months.

Pretty cool:)

I oddly find myself feeling very serene. Content. I have no plans, and no one I want to make plans with. I am in possession of a great carelessness. Like the one I get at my desk sometimes...late at night....scribbling down through the spirals of my soul searching for the rescue of countless loose ends.

I have spent most of my life swimming against the tide. Daring to be different and defending with every last breath my right to expression. Right or wrong. In sickness and in health, till death do us part. Amen.

It is a difficult path to choose. One filled with endless obstacles and challenges. Doubters. Judges. Followers. All lying in wait to hack at your roots. Test your mettle. Point their sticky little fingers at you and expose imperfections, faults and mistakes.

So, who do I think I am? To what purpose do I maintain this resolve? Why when I could have, at several junctures of my life- turned onto the pre-paved highway to social acceptance by way of money, title, and material possessions have I stayed the course of the lowly starving artist? Scraping at the periphery. Scavenging for acceptance. Shredding my soul.

Because when I draw my dying breath, I will leave this realm with the knowledge that I tried my best to stay faithful to the cause of the human condition. For the love of life and the pursuit of its purpose.

And nobody can take that away from me. Not ever.

That defines me. Thats who I am. A lover. A seeker. A warrior. A sheperd.

As we grow older, people have to start comprimising or sacrificing what they believe in an attempt to gain what they want. Or think they want. Or have been told they want.

As those around them begin to partner, gather and nest, they feel the subconcious pull to join into the masses. Must work. Must pay bills. Must buy this, must buy that, must save, must party, must meet, must fuck, must hurt, must heal, must buy more stuff, gotta get new stuff, better stuff, join with someone else so I can have their stuff, then all our friends will give us even more stuff, then we'll have babies who will grow into kids and then adults who will eventually take all of your stuff. Then you die. And where is all your stuff now. WHat human legacy do you leave. What impression on the energy of the universe did your molecular composition impose. The shifting of dead matter?

What a scam. I'm not buying it.

For some- "stuff" is the purpose. Every decision and sacrifice they make is ultimately to maintain the stuff they got, or seeking a propulsion to more stuff.

And when in that mad sprint on the hampster wheel do you find the time to discover who you are? How you relate to the universe and how it relates to you? Why you were put here? Why you think the way you think and react the way you do? Why are you afraid? Why are you not afraid?

Most people seek these answers in relationships. Lovers, friends, family. They define themselves or their lifes purpose by how they fit in the context of other peoples lives.

Some turn to philosophy or science.

Some turn to oblivion or novacaine (drugs, alcohol, various addictive distractions)

Some pretend not to care for so long they fool themselves into thinking they don't. They cut off the valve to all possibility. Where does all that untapped potential go?

And then their are those who believe in the mystery of God and heaven and angels and devils. That their actions matter. And they will be responsible.

I fall into this latter group. Its dramatic, and infinate possibility attracts me. And it is the most difficult because it employs the idea of faith. Sacrifice. Of being a servant to a purpose higher than your personal existance without fully understanding it.

There is challenge in it. It is the highest tightrope in the history of mankind. The existance of God. And how it relates to us.

Wow. I really hadn't planned on all this coming out. Sometimes my finger just keeps plucking away and the words appear before me and I read them and say.....what the fuck am I talking about? Then I read it and realize that my insides just fall out here. Its my testing site for all the superfluous thoughts I conjure.

I have a very vivid and overactive imagination. An extremely lucid dreamer.

I digress.

To me God is so epic and so dense with love that it keeps me engaged. Keeps me striving. Hoping. Applying.

Without the idea of God life seems so flat. Linear. What? The purpose of mankind is to buy crap and have a kid to give your crap to and move along?

No way, man.

Then there is destiny. Which to me is very God. Destiny is that moment when you find yourself exactly where your suppossed to be and you look back and see that you had nothing to do with how you got there. And in most cases, you look back and see that all the things you were trying to control just got in destinies way. And made destinies job more difficult for no good reason you stubborn jack-ass.

When you fine tune yourself to God. Get into the word. Nurture your faith. Walk the walk. You feel destiny guiding you. To people and situations, or away from people and situations. Its hard to listen to it sometimes because their are so many forces in this world that are vying for your attention. Sometimes those forces live inside you. Lust, addiction, desire, jealousy, weakness, anger. All Trying to get you away from your destiny. Trying to pry you away from your purpose so that you can help fullfill whatever dream they have concocted for their purpose.

If you find this skeptical. Commit to a personal relationship with God. Abolish all your pre-conceived notions based on childhood memories and experiences that had to do with other people-NOT God- and appraoch the creator with a blank canvas....see what happens.

I'm not trying to save your soul here. Well, actually, maybe I am. What's so wrong with that? The media has so warped the way America looks at God and those who serve. Its fucked up.

Well, I am starting to get that stinging in my eyes from staring at my own brain. I am going to have a yogurt, go up to my roof-deck and smoke while watching the planes float down through the clouds en route to LAX. Then I will go to bed listening to Depeche Mode as I so often do.

I have written out several of their songs of late on here and this will be my last installment. These songs I have saved for last not because they are my favorites but because the content of their lyrics are so precious and personal to who I am and how I live my life that they are hard for me to write. Hard to share. I have emotional attatchment and investment in these songs. I am sure that if you are here reading this, you will recognize what I mean when you read these simple but complex songs.

IF YOU WANT MY LOVE

Is simplicity best?
Or simply the easiest.
The narrowest path
Is always the holiest
So walk on barefoot for me
Suffer some misery
If you want my love
If you want my love

You can fulfill
your wildest ambitions
and I'm sure you will
lose your inhabitions
so offer yourself for me
risk your health for me
if you want my love
if you want my love

idle talk and futile promise
cheating judas', doubting thomas'
don't just stand there and shout it-
do something about it-

Man will survive
the harshest conditions
and stay alive
through difficult decisions
so make up your mind for me
walk the line for me
If you want my love
if you want my love

THE BOTTOM LINE

Like a cat dragged in from the rain
who goes straight back out
to do it all over again....
I'll be back for more

Its something that is out of our hands
something we will never understand
its a hidden law
the apple falls
destiny calls
I follow you....

Like a pawn on the eternal board
whose never quite sure what he's moved towards
I walk blindly on

If heaven is in front of me
yeah heaven beckons me enticingly
when I arrive its gone
the river flows
the wise man knows
I follow you

I'm yearning, I'm Burning, I feel those wheels turning.

Like a moth on loves bright light
I will get burned each and every night
I'm dying too
The sun will shine
the bottom line
I follow you

The sun will shine
The bottom line
I follow you

GOODNIGHT LOVERS

SSshhhh......

mmm... mmmmm...

Here
somewhere in the heart of me
there is still a part of me
that cares

And I'll
I'll still take the best you've got
evan though I'm sure its not
the best for me

When your born a lover
your born to suffer
like all soul sisters and soul brothers....

I, I can see the danger signs
they only help to underline
your beauty

I'm not looking for an easy ride
true happiness cannot be tried
so easily

When your born a lover
Your born to suffer
like all soul sisters and soul brothers...
like all soul sisters and soul brothers...

You can take your time
I'll be waiting in line
you don't evan have to give me the time of day

When your born a lover
your born to suffer
Like all soul sisters and soul brothers
Like all soul sisters and soul brothers
Like all soul sisters and soul brothers
Like all soul sisters and soul brothers.....

Ssshhhhhhh.......

NOT SETTLING OFTEN MEANS.... NOT BEING SETTLED

Apr 9, 2006 5:57 PM

I have decided that if I need to deviate from ...Meeting Al Pacino to whip a little brain paint around, then I will do just that. The fact of the matter is- this is my &*@#$@$ website which means I can pretty much do whatever I want all the time....which is basically my overall goal in life for the most part. If I could just figure out how to gain world dominance I really think I could finally rest easy knowing that everything will be ok. Till then..I will have to settle for scribbling on this cyber-napkin.

My senses are very sensitive today. Colors seem vivid and the articulation of objects are particularly sharp. My vital life juice is perk-a-lating and I am excited for adventure. Much to my dismay I am at a loss of where to go and no-one to go with so I am instead going on a sensory journey. Snacking, playing my guitar and singing, listening to music, reading little bits and pieces. The gym. I went to some antique shops and rummaged around. Blockbuster. An art store. Target. Spoke on the phone to some people that I enjoy.

I battled the onslaught of fatigue last night through a date I had been secretly excited about all week. Its strange for me to feel excitement about a date because I haven't in soooo long its retarded. I kept having this impulsive urge to just grab her and kiss her all night. Thankfully, I opted to fight back the impulse. It was a second date and when you are dealing with high quality materials you are naturally more careful. Everrything is more precious, and you want to follow the directions precisely to make sure you arrive right on time....nobody likes it when you show up early to a party half way drunk already. At the same time you can't show up after the cake has been cut either. I am incriminating myself terribly by writing this but that is the price you pay when you make the commitment to share your innermost thoughts on public access. Still I better shut up before I go too far. But I will say she has been on my mind since the moment I left her and I woke up this morning and wanted to see her right away. Which troubled me just a bit. But then I was like #%@$# it. Lifes too short and I am through being cool. So I called her and tried to lure her away for a magic adventure day but she had plans... a BBQ. And talking someone out of a BBQ is hard. I know you would be hard pressed to talk me out of a BBQ. In fact when I take over the world I will implement mandatory BBQ days where everyone has to BBQ wether they like it or not. So if you were to opt out of a BBQ to go on a magic adventure you would actually be breaking the law. Serve hard time for not attending a BBQ. And she is a law abiding citizen as far as I know, and I have left my life of crime behind, so I suppose the old stones song fits here. You can't always get what you want, but you get what you need. (I hate when people say that)

I am ancy again and this entry is just two shades short of buffoonery. I will come back later and try to conjure up something a little more applicable.

MEETING AL PACINO.........(ENTRY #2)

Apr 7, 2006 12:18 AM

I met kiwi in parking lot number 10 on the estate grounds of the Veterens Administration Hospitol which consumed a large plot of land on the corner of Wilshire Blvd. and San vicente in West LA. An impressive lot comprised of several buildings fortressed by a 12 foot iron gate around its perimeter. Like its own little private community. The buildings looked old and rather institutional but the connecting landscapes were maintained and pleasant. Long winding roads connected several large parking lots in front and behind many of the buildings. Older somewhat fragile looking men could be seen walking slowly up and down sidewalks lining the roads. Others could be seen waiting on roadside benches, but for what they were waiting for I couldn't be sure.

I was not accustomed to being up and out of my apartment so early, I had spent the better part of the last two weeks sleeping in till ten, and flittering my days away by tasking myself to death with meaningless crap in order to stave off the forthcoming post show doldrums. I had just completed playing the coveted role of Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire at The Cleveland Playhouse and was not really settled as to how the whole experience of failing to live up to Brando's shadow was going to effect my overall future as an actor.

I pulled my nondescript sedan into the lot #10 to wait and did not immediately see her. It was a sunny california morning and I had managed to snag a Starbucks coffee en route to my first day. I had the same anxiety I always have clenched in my gut when I come to the realization that I have to start some new "situation" that I am doing pretty much because I have no alternative. But I was determined to get my life moving forward and who knows? Maybe this could turn into something, maybe I will meet someone, a new friend, the love of my life, a potential fling, learn a new skill I didn;t know existed, and all that positive thinking bullshit you try to talk yourself into when facing a total brickwall of a future.

A sleek black newer BMW pulled into the lot and quickly slid into a parking space. I could sense that the woman driving it was very attractive before I could even see her. I have always been very instinctual about beauty and style. I have premonitions about pretty people and visions before they happen. The woman who emerged was very well groomed, and had taken careful measure in putting herself together. She looked professional but soft, with a subtle balance between spoiled and pampered. Her shoulder length auburn hair was salon straight and parted neatly on the side. Her eyes were a piercing blue and they were set perfectly on either side of a slender ever so slightly elongated nose that created a crisp contrast in her facial features. Her body was curvacious with some serious custom emphasis in the trunk area that I could not help but indulging my eyes to as she reached into her backseat to retrieve something. She shot me a vague glance over her shoulder as she flipped a large stylish leather bag up over her shoulder and headed towards the door of the nearest building strutting with a "woman of the new millenium" confidance.

"HEY!" I whirled around and there was kiwi. Disheveled hair, glasses and draped in clothes that could very well double as nap blankets. She threw her arms around me in a warm embrace to try and immediately relieve the anxiety she knew I probably had about what was going to be expected of me. We both had Ohio ties and had a very good working relationship that could almost be mistaken for friendship except that we never mixed without a reason.

She took me on a brief tour of the estate which I learned consisted of several medical buildings, offices, and facilities and had been used since world war 2. There were also some mental health wards and a few abandoned barracks. And then somehow they had transformed two of the buildings into live theatres for reasons I still am unclear about. The first theatre she showed me was The Brentwood. It was a five hundred seat space which had a completely rebuilt interior. New seats, new stage, rebuilt sound and light booths, the whole nines. And it had been done right. No half steps in the construction or the rake of the audience. It looked as technically pretty as it gets. "Wow" I said with genuine surprise, "This is beautiful" ...."Yeah" Kiwi replied..."you'll meet the guy who built these theatres, his name is Lovejoy-- and these are his babies". I didn't realize then how literal she was being.

We hopped back in the car and backtracked down the empty winding streets that weren't unlike driving on a golf-cart path on a golf course except that this was LA and you double whatever the safe driving speed is just on principal. We went past the parking lot where we met and she pointed to the building next to it and said "theres the offices where you'll be working but first I wanna show you The Wadsworth". "Whats the Wadsworth?" I said with feigned interest. All I really wanted to do was be set to my task and get it over with so I could get the money rolling. Looking at theatres when I am not going to be working on stage in them just stings. Like visiting a ball field without a ball. Whats the point? Still I wanted to accomadate, as is the plight of the actor existance.for better or for worse.

My spirits quickly changed when she led me through the backstage door and through the blackened crossover to the stage. She left me there and disappeared to turn on the house lights. When she did I was standing in the middle of a grand forty foot wide stage in front of 1,400 empty seats. Modern constructed symphonic sound walls, a traditional balcony, and an accoustic dome ceiling. I immediately went into actor fantasy land and pictured myself in front of a full house of people, wildly applauding in a standing ovation after I had just delivered an apocalyptic performance that shook the stage.

"Nice huh?' quipped kiwi, knowing full well that I was immersed in an actor daydream of grandure. Kiwi knows actors. She knows people. She learns them. And then has the ability to know what your thinking often times before you think it. Pretty amazing.

"That guy Lovejoy built this place too?" "Yep" piped kiwi with a proud smile. "He's the tech director here, you'll meet him at some point. Come on, let me get you situated in the office and introduce you to Rich, and Errin, and Gary."

I quickly had a gut feeling that the well dressed beemer chick I saw earlier in the parking lot was going to be introduced to me as Errin in the near future. I also deduced that Rich would probably be the boss of the production company which was called Rich-Mark Entertainment. I had no idea what Gary would be about, but I was ready to get into the mix.

MEETING AL PACINO.........

Apr 6, 2006 12:52 AM

I am going to deviate a bit from my normal brain splatter here and attempt to record a very unexpected and interesting little side chapter that I have found myself in life. I am entitling these memoirs...."Meeting Al Pacino."

There is a patron saint of actors. His name is St. Genesius. His tale is true and rather disturbing but I will get to that later on in these entries. But make no mistake, he exists. And he is skilled at revealing himself to actors in a myriad of different ways.

Two weeks ago I was just about to drop to my knees and cry. I had returned from a long creative journey to my homeland and found myself with a pretty big load of post show depression. On top of that, I had a pretty sickly financial outlook. So, I did what I always do. Started swinging.

I went through my email address book and sent out an S.O.S. to all my creative peeps who understand the plight of the freelance artist to see if anyone could get me into a "situation".

A couple days later I got a call. It was from Kiwi. Kiwi's real name is Kim, and I had always called her Miss Crabtree since I had met her two years ago when she was the stage manager for a play I was performing in in Los Angeles. Apparently, she had taken on the nickname kiwi as she was surrounded by other kims in her current...."situation". Kiwi was freelance too, but had found herself a more stable position in the management/production end of things. Kiwi is a cross breed of peppermint patty meets chrissie Heind meets a dash of schoolteacher- but a few shades hotter and gay. She has a nice feminine body with curves but rarely shows it off. She opts to dress for comfort and her clothes usually appear to be hanging on her. On her head she wears a fashionable engineers cap which hides her short, but sharp brown bob and allows her caring chestnut brown eyes to pop out from behind her hipster nerd, cat eye glasses. She doesn't fiddle with make-up unless she has too, because she has an interesting and angular face that is very open and accepting to be looked at. But all those things are beside the point. Because kiwi is a woman who has always defined herself by her actions. She has a platinum heart and she backs it up by being loyal to people who she has the ability to help. She has a nurturing soul and a charmed spirit. She is smart and vigilant about staying the course and making sure that if it can be done, it will get done, especially if its on her watch. And her watches are very long......very long, as I would soon discover.

I got the voicemail late one night.

"So listen, I got a situation over here with this production company I am working for, and I could use someone to answer some phones around here for a couple days if you could use the cash. Gimme a call and let me know."

I listened to it three times contemplating ...Answering phones? Well, I had certainly done worse, and it was a short gig and I was in no position to be selective, I'm an out of work actor. I called her back and agreed to working three days for a nominal hourly wage.

That was three weeks ago.

Before I was re-assigned as a production assistant to the cryptic Mr. Lovejoy for the upcoming show of "Salome" starring the beyond famous Mr. Pacino, before my once healthy diet had turned into a streaming barrage of donuts, candy bars and carry out coffee, before I signed a strangers name to thousands of dollars worth of credit card slips, before I would learn how to drive a wide load pick-up in LA, before I would hand the keys to a stranger in an alley one early Sunday morning, before I would learn first hand the influence and effect that power and fame can have on human beings, before I would see all too clearly where I stand in this magic mushroom cloud of make believe life in Hollywood, before I would meet Gary, roseanne, kim, kim,& kim,...erin, rich, tracy, jennifer, fallon, gunderson, annie, and of course........

Al Pacino.

Stay tuned.................JPF*

THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME...........

Apr 3, 2006 7:40 PM

I have been absent from here for awhile. Fotunately it is with good reason. I have been living. Applying myself to the idea that I have to engage life in order to create something with it. It is a partnership, you can't just sit there staring at the sky saying..."HELLO?! Life? I'm waiting...make something happen please" and then blame God and all the christians when nothing happens. Its kind of the theory of fire- having two sticks isn't enough- you have to rub them together.

So- I been rubbing! After returning from the run of Streetcar in Cleveland I came back to LA feeling like an outsider all over again. Familiar territory to me as I have felt like the eternal outsider since I can remember remembering. I had to get back in the sand and start building castles again, but this time I set out with a big bucket of water so as to make them much more stable. I am also hoping to add on some balconies with a view of something beautiful:)

I decided that I had to start shaking the tree without thinking too much about what might fall down and hit me on the head. I tend to obsess over "what-if's" sometimes so I took a deep breath and said, #%$#%$ it!

Since then I have been struck in the head by several random flying objects and have since decided to stop shaking the tree get out of the way and sit down for a bit.

I got one of those things that normal people have.....they are called "jobs". They are like this thing you go to every day and try to enjoy all the while thinking about someplace else you'd rather be or dreaming of the day when you can go to the store and buy everything and just be done with it. Own all things. No matter what anybody has, you already have it. Man, then you would finally be a success, at least until they made some NEW thing.

I had dinner with a girl last night and I was just very taken with her. She has that "thing" that makes it hard to stop thinking about her after she leaves. I couldn't stop looking at her and had to force myself to look away at times so I didn't seem like I was challenging her to a staring contest. Her spirit kind of lingered within me for awhile after dinner and I drove home really slow while whistling.

I guess this means I am dating. Going out on dates. Hangin' out they call it in LA. "We should hang out", "yea, totally- lets hang"... why are we always trying to casualize things that are naturally riddled with anxiety? I mean...its fun to be a little nervous about a date isn't it? Let's not take the date out of dating. "Date" sounds official, committed and responsible. Something you have to show up for and be at your best. Its a call to arms. "Hanging out" is loaded with escape clauses, apologies, and slack. Don't get me wrong, I like hangin'...but I just think we should preserve dates too...I don't want them to become this thing I have to explain to my kids when I'm old...."Back when I was your age we called them "dates". By then people will just be saying.."Lets eat".

Making friends and working at a job, going out to dinner with girls...My God, I sound like a normal adult. #@#$@$%

This is preposterous. Me?! Functioning like a real person? Don't worry ya'll I am just playing the part. Its temporary. I am sure it won't be long before some wrench of chaos comes whirling through space to create a wave of discord that knocks me flat on my ass. Or maybe, I have just finally learned how to keep some semblance of balance. Either way, this is nice. I accept this time of growth and positive stability and opportunity for what might be out there waiting for me wether it be a new friend, a new job opportunity, a romance.

Its off in the distance but I am starting to see some form to the dust clouds. The shape of things to come that I will call "my life" and I will live it. Not sit and pray for it. Live it. Not watch it. Live it. Not wait for it. Live it.

I love so much. I wish I could wrap my arms around the universe and just hug creation. Embrace it. And all its contents and all its people. But I would have to be really freakishly big to do that and I have enough trouble finding jeans that fit right as it is so I will settle for just saying a prayer for all of you out there and thanking God for how great it is to have this experience despite any of the obstacles or unfilled desires.

Angels of the day: Kiwi, Gary, KKT, and Annie. Other angels include Laurie Hall, John Williamson, the lady who cut the foam pad at Jo-ann fabrics for me as well as the woman who unlocked the door to the bathroom for me, the girl at Starbucks who accepted my compliment graciously, and the woman behind me at Hamburger Hamlet who shared my lunchtime exuberance as I burst into song accompanying Prince with "Tonight we're gonna party like its 1999!"

LIGHTEN UP FRANCIS!!!!!!!!

Mar 9, 2006 11:23 PM

I was looking over my past few entries and was like....JESUS! Lighten up!!

I have a tendency to put the world on my shoulders and run around trying to put out fires but seriously...enough is enough- time out for fun:):):)

I went to get screened for one of these medical trials. I thought it would be an interesting thing to do for a fat wad of easy cash. Ya know...be a human guineau pig. Have nurses running around checking my vitals...bringing me juice...changing my bedpan. I have never had to stay overnight in a hospitol and I kinda want too. People pay a lot of attention to you and you get to ask for stuff and people do it. Imagine on top of that if you were getting paid for it!!! Sounded like a win win situation to me. The thing is you gotta qualify for one of their studies. Insomnia, anxiety, diabetes, something.

So- I went in for insomnia---I do have quite a bit of trouble falling asleep at night on a fairly regular basis and sometimes it gets pretty debilitating. So I sat in a room with a bunch of derelicts filling out paperwork and making small talk with weird animal farm type people that looked like they probably hang out in that bar from the movie Star Wars. For some reason as often happens to me...they all seemed to think I was their leader and knew all the ins and outs of how to "get in". Of course, I knew nothing but took it upon myself to deliver long flabbergasting answers that had no basis in fact whatso ever. I mean, look, I ACT for a living so sometimes when a given circumstance lends itself to a little improv....I'm game. And this situation was just begging for self entertainment. I told tales of my past medical trial heroics and how I knew a guy who died while testing a new drug. I mentioned a rondevue with a portly late night nurse, and the piles of money I had made being a lab rat for very high risk trials that involved spinal taps and intestinal probing. It was unfortunate that I did not have a video camera because this was a pretty darn good performance and I even caught myself wanting to laugh out loud at myself a few times for being so totally ludicrous but still totally believable. The performance carried over into my phycological interview and the Dr. was convinced that I was suffering from acute anxiety disorder which had bipolar implications. I was fidgeting, standing up and walking around his office as I answered questions about my childhood in long deceitful detail. I made up stories and used objects in the room for details like Kevin Spacey did in the movie "The usual suspects". Not quite to that extent but I wanted to try it so I didi manage to slip in a few obscure references. He laughed at me at times, and then would get quite serious in explaining my behavior to me. Then I would feign anger and frustration and raise my voice quite out of place and then break into giggles sit down and bury my face in my lap as if no one would ever understand.

He suggested therapy and two different meds and said he could not enroll me in the study because my mental condition needed to be attended to befor any real physical diagnosis would be beneficial.

I was a little bummed because I wouldn't get to stay in the hospitol but I had a blast with my "boy interrupted" performance and they invited me to do an outpatient study for anxiety disorders for the pyhcologically impaired. I took the paper work and told them I had to think it over.

The whole episode was a phenominal waste of time and I hadn't had that much fun wasting time since I used to do heavy shoplifting as a juvenile.

I am going to make it a point to start loosening up. I have been carrying a large load of crap around for a while and its not all my crap. I have been carrying some other peoples crap along with my own crap and that is just way to much crap for any one person to be carrying around. It stinks.

Creative, harmless, slightly....well OK totally juvenile behavior for the sake of fun is really very acceptable nowadays. Hell it is the absolute foundation of reality TV. So, I will feel no guilt. And I will continue to find seriously preposterous ways to entertain myself rather than get pummelled in a bar and throw up. Those days are over. I want to find new things to make me vomit all over myself. I wonder what would happen if I joined an "adults who wear diapers" website. Let me get back to you. Time for sleeping.

WHOSE CROSS IS THIS..........???

Feb 18, 2006 11:37 PM

If you ever read this you know that I believe in angels. I believe God uses people as vessels to channel his messeges to you if you are seeking answers.

I also believe that the devil works in the same way. And if it is destruction you seek, he will gladly surround you with hallow demon filled spirits who will help accomadate whatever vice grip you choose to put yourself in.

If you are honest in your walk with God you start to recognize people with greater clarity as to what they represent for you. An accomplice; or an adversary; and you also learn different stradegies in how to manuever towards or away. It is often surprising what manifests out of people that you thought you knew very well before you started your path. You might suddenly see through the mask of a person you have considered your closest friend for years, and see all too clearly that you need to do an about face. Its very hard. A lot of times they are unaware that they are wearing the mask because they are not living honestly on the inside- so they are confused by your sudden withdrawal. Or they take to the defensive and accuse you of not being "yourself". Its tricky bussiness, and thats no lie.

Seven months ago God intervened in my life and created a situation which forced me to look very hard and long at myself, my family, and my life. I didn't want to look, because I had been running in the opposite direction from those three things since I can remember and I was frightened of what I would see- or maybe more accurately- what I wouldn't see.

What I saw was an abondoned and neglected sense of self, family and life. I saw misdirections and half truths. I saw veils and calculated lies meant to try and fabricate a different reality. I saw cords and wires tangled in dangerous knots of emotional abuse and resentment and pride. I saw masks upon masks. Discarded skin. Projections of false memory and self pity.

I saw a painful, twisted, tortured mess that had been left and forgotten. And at that moment as I canvassed that vision I was faced with a choice.

Get in there and start cleaning that closet. Or close the door and keep running.

Well, I was just plum tired of running. Tired of seeking shelter under the umbrella of "good times" and "parties" and "living la vida loca". I wanted to get in there and put things right. Set the record straight. If not only to save my own life, and salvage some semblence of family, but also to try and reconfigure the pattern so that my children won't fall prey to the vicious cycle that has festered and endured in our family history since its inception.

I decided to stand up. Take the door off the hinges. Pull all that shit out and start the slow, painstaking process of putting humpty dumpty back together again.

I am 35 years old. Fair assessment to say I am half way through life if I am lucky. So I have thirty five years to try and break even. And who knows, if I play the second half better than the first- I might even come out ahead.

So here I am seven months on the straight and narrow and I am seeing progress. Not windfalls mind you. Good old fashioned track work. Brick by brick. Railroad tie to railroad tie. I have had to knock down some bridges, rebuild them and then knock them down and start over again. So, as you might imagine at times it is easy to get so immersed in such a mess that at some point you say..."wait a minute"...."why am I doing this? Why is it my responsibility to save this abandoned warehouse? Are they watching? I mean who cares? Here I am going through this incredible performance and no one is watching!!!!" And your blood starts to boil and your veins constrict and you feel a sudden surge of justified indignation and you feel that you deserve to swerve off the track into the nearest waiting abyss and just stick your head in the sand with the rest of the weak ducklings and stick your ass up in the air and hope the hunter doesn't see you.

Well, I have been feeling that very poignantly as of the last few days. Not for the first time in this stretch but still...this was a notably pointed few days of feeling like I just wanted to slide down the chute and roll around with the rest of the dirty laundry. Questions beckoning. Doubts creeping in through the cracks.Weeds taking root. Feeding on my insecurities and my desires.

So tonight- as I sat and had dinner with my two most intimate friends, Mr. Lonely and Mr. Restless I decided that I would go for a walk. I put on my sweatshirt and my leather jack, half knowing in the back of my mind the final destination might be a dimly lit bar where no one knows me and just maybe I would take the edge off. Just a little. Hell, whose cross is this anyway? Why should I carrry this around while everyone else keeps spinning around in the same little circle. Just get back in the circus. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Then the darkness of Jason past sprung up at this glimpse of opportunity and said YEAH! SCREW IT! GET YOUR WALLET! GRAB THE PHONE! LETS DO IT!

And as my body obeyed each of his commands deep inside I could feel the forces of my center tipping off their axis. I got butterflies. My heart rate quickened. My throat got dry. A numbness started to flood into my concioussness and I just wanted to go there. To numbland. Debaucherouss tranquility. Cash in my chips for just a few hours of ignorant bliss. I scooped up my keys and slammed the door. I hit the button and waited anxiously for the elevator to arrive. DING! It opened and there alone in the elevator starring up at me was a puppy. He was excited but uncertain, his tail wagging with great velocity yet he was frozen in a half squat not knowing what to do or where to go. Then suddenly he became still and just stared at me. As if to say...."Where are you going? What are you going to do?" And in the reflection of his innocent and curious eyes I saw an angel speaking to me. I entered the elevator and he crept to my feet and I began to pet him, and a sudden rush of comfort overwhelmed me and the anxiety relented and I felt myself take a deep breath and sigh out a big bubble of angst. The elevator arrived at the Lobby floor and the pup rushed out and there were his owners waiting for him. He had slipped in the elevator while they retrieved their mail. And little did they know that he had just saved me from taking a very impulsive and dangerous turn. But God was not convinced. The family got in the elevator with the pup and I was left there alone for a moment to try and piece together what just happenned and what I was going to do about it. Jason of Christmas past started whispering..."@$## the dog!" "Don't read into the puppy"......and I started questioning for a second as I stood there in my own lobby starring at the floor with my hands in my pocket in a deep bout of newfound indecision. And then ...."Jason.....WELCOME BACK!" It was Joseph my upstairs neibor whom I have a good repore with but have never spent any real amount of time with other than simple passing conversations about this and that. He embraced me with a genuine hug that suggessted actual sincerity in his being glad to see me. He was smiling and looked radiant and happy. He asked about Streetcar and this and that and I asked him about his fashion show and life in retail and next thing in a total non sequiter he says well, I am just about six months sober! I almost swallowed my tongue and said what? "Six months" he exclaimed again with great pride. I looked at him and without thinking it I said.."me too, and its funny that you say that because I think it is possible that I was just about to slip out and go on a bender". We ended out talking for about twenty minutes. He knew right where I was at and it felt so good to have someone know right where I was at. We are going to be friends. And that is what I need. Positive friends. Joseph set me straight and went up. I waddled over to the 7/11 and bought some Fat free milk for my morning cereal, ignored the homeless beggar and scurried back to my apartment to write.

So, whose cross is this?

Its mine. And I am going to carry it as far as these little legs have strength to stand. With lots of help from my friends.

Angels of the day: Puppy, and Joseph. Thankyou. Thankyou so much for saving me from myself tonight. Time for sleeping.

TENDENCIES......

Feb 16, 2006 9:40 PM

I tend to come here when I am restless. Waves of nausea pass through my system at times and leave me panting for breath. I feel sometimes like I am taking on the whole world. A lone soldier still holding on to the last patch of ground at the Alamo. Blood drenching the soil around my feet. I keep spinning and twisting and willing a way to survive one more second, one more minute, one more day.

I'm a junky. People usually relate the term junky to drugs and I am certainly no stranger to that aspect of the term however that is not what I am referring to. Its interchangeable, being a junky is a person who becomes obsessed with whatever he is obsessing about. And right now I am a creation junky. I am racing around like a hamster trying to clear a path. Beat back the enemies to find the next clearance of escape. It used to be that at the end of a creative splurge like I just had for the last three months would keep me content for a month or so before I started to feel the forces pulling at my core for more. But now, less than a week and I am ravenous. Bloodthirsty. Fluttering around like a bat in the daylight to try and get ahead. Forge an alliance, a foothold with anyone or anything that can guide me to that place of opportunity. I feel cut-throat. Like Jesse James. A bandit bandying about for the next score. Planning, plotting. Gnashing my teeth. There is a rush to the chase but it inevitably bottoms out in frustration because my patience is thinning as each second ticks on the secondhand. I took a meeting with a manager today. I felt uneasy and desperate. People say just be yourself!!! Well, that is myself. Uneasy and restless. That is my natural state of being. Why do you think I am an actor? Its not about a need for attention it is about no option. If I were comfortable in my own skin, if every waking moment wasn't an epic battle behind the curtains of my soul- I would get a stable job and make some money, buy some crap, have 2.2 kids and go to cancun with my friends twice a year.

It is just the nature of actors. Self loathing. It propels us into the shelter of fabricated worlds, on wooden stages, in front of cameras. Other people think sometimes we are brave for exposing ourselves but little do they realise that we are doing is hiding.

I know. I am dark. So what. Get over it.

Sometimes you gotta just bleed it out. Squeeze the venom out so when you lay down to sleep you don't count your hearbeats. You don't re-run your life from the very beggining trying to figure out how you got here. In this bed. Staring at this ceiling. Alone.

Well, its fifty percent. Fifty fifty. Those are the odds when you start in life. For the most part I hear they get worse as you get older so I suppose if I am still at fifty fifty- I must be slightly ahead of the game.

What am I suppossed to do. Act like I don't care??! I do care! I care so much I want to combust. I care so much it makes me tremble. But if you show people you care they repel. So you have to act blasse. Take it or leave man. How do you think the term "whatever" became so popular. It is the the blanket attitude of our society at the end of the debate. We get all worked up, passionate, only to shake hands at the end and say "Whatever"

No winners, no loseres on the surface. But underneath everyone is keeping score. Tallying. And waiting for life to reveal the precious results so they can laugh out loud and say " See! "I told you so!"

Am I not entitled to ask every once in a while? WHY?! Why are there people out there with infinately less potential and ability out there further along in this crap shoot. I persue each day with vigour, passion, attacking every angle only to hear some story about a hack jack wanna be actor who went to Tecumpseh U. getting his own reality show.

Can I just say......what the fuck?! Just once in a blue moon can I just say that out to the whole world and make them listen?

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I tend to come here when I am restless.

THE OTHER SIDE OF SOMETHING, SEARCHING FOR ANYTHING....

Feb 14, 2006 12:37 AM

There is just no way you can ever know. You can plan, plot, predict all you want. But the revolving mirrors reflect more than you can ever reveal to them. They hold more images than you can project with your imagination.

What a blur. I returned home to Los Angeles yesterday morning and spent the last 36 hours unpacking and decrompressing from a two month barrage of creative pressure and passion. I have had little time for reflection since leaving for Cleveland to play Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire. I have much to tell about the experience but will have to drop it in fragments as I gain clarity on the experince through the filters of memory.

My initial impression of the whole process is a little numb. It had so many unforseen and needless obstacles. Glass boxes. Splintered emotions. Raw pain. Heart tremors. Shadows of doubt.

There were triumphs and tribulations and layers of manipulation. The "gel" that often binds a cast in such a production never really took place. There was a seperateness. Fragmentation. The work was done, and at times the crisscrossing of individual efforts lifted us all off the ground but the flight was always turbulent. Too many cooks in the kitchen. No real head chef.

Will expound more on Streetcar experience later.

After Cleveland I flew to Denver to take part in Denver Center Theater's first annual New Actors Summit play reading series. I was booked by Ed Herendeen who is a great apostle of the American Theatre and runs a fantastic theatre festival in West Virginia. I have spent two very creative summers with Ed and it was really great to dig into another project with him. The play was Augusta written by Richard Dresser who is a phenominal writer. Augusta was a great play and I really wanted to live up to the complexity of the role I was playing even though I was still possessed by Stanley. I had to quickly do a possesssion exchange so I could make the most of the Denver Center opportunity. It would be a good showcase for me.

More later. Much to tell. Need sleep.

NOTHING IS OVER UNTIL ITS OVER.....

Jan 25, 2006 10:00 PM

I often equate being a principal character in a play to being the quarterback of a football team. You go out every time and you give your best to execute the gameplan (the play) You try to follow the playbook just like you rehearsed it. And then, when things break down you learn to improvise and try to make the best of it. Sometimes you scramble and make a big completion downfield for a touchdown...other times you get intercepted, and sometimes you just chuck it out of bounds and live to fight another day.

And no matter what you do, your going to be critisized. It just comes with the territory. Everyone is going to put you under a microscope and throw in their two cents just because you are putting yourself out there and trying to make it happen.

Well, here is the news...nobody- not Joe Montanna, Dan Marino, Elway, Farve, Aikman, not one of them- completed every pass, and won every game. FACT.

But over the course of time, you look over their body of work and you see the context in history within which they played, the obstacles, the injuries, the doubts, the changes and you see that their will to win and succeed eventually ascended them to the heights of greatness.

But the road to greatness is paved with constant reassessment. Constant examination. And the only thing that keeps you driving down that road while everyone pelts you is your inner drive, your inner fire, your will to reach that place that you envision yourself to be in your dreams.

Now you can't listen to every critic. You have to choose carefully whose opinions you give worth to, and how much, based on your knowledge of them or their knowledge of you. Friends and family are wonderful and although they have good intentions sometimes they are misinformed or just not appropriately inclined to be the ones to guide you in your persuit. So, you have to seek out teachers. Mentors. Counterparts. Contemporaries. And you have to continue to believe in yourself, and stay true to what got you where you are. Because just like the quarterback of a football team, I am not here by default. I am here because I busted my ass and I earned the right to be in this game. So that everyone out there can take a shot at me from the sidelines.

But come time for the curtain to go up, its me and my fellow actors who will venture under the lights and crawl inside of the bubble of imagination for all those in the outside world to poke and point at. Spewing their venom or their praise. Like animals in the zoo we are on display with an audience clammering to be entertained to all their various standards.

Well. Opening night came and went. I don't read reviews but I have worked in proffesional theatre long enough to know that if they were good- we'd have been told so I am assuming the worst has been said.

But the beautiful discovery in this is that I have reached a point where I honestly don't care. Sure it would be nice to gain the admiration of a critic for my work but my only true critic is God. Then the audience. Then myself.

Two young girls who were in attendance for our student matine the other day came up to me and a couple of my castmates today and told us how much they loved the show. Their eyes beemed with a type of admiration that didn't have to do so much with us as induividuals, but rather what we accomplished together that created inspiration for them to continue to persue their passion.

I will take that moment over any pretentious newspaper critic any day of the week. I became an actor because I wanted to connect with people. Reach them. Touch them. Laugh with them, and cry with them. And when needed, inspire them.

Now, I am still working. Every night I am out there and I am taking the snaps. Trying to execute. Improvise and create success for the team, and for myself to please God and our intended audience. I am not going to be perfect, but I'll be damned if I am not going to strive for it.

A play like Streetcar, a role like Stanley...its precious. Each performance is like a play off game. The stakes are higher. It means something. And I am making strides. Significant ones. I feel things falling into place, and I am gaining confidance in sections that I had feared. Other places where I felt timid and exhausted by, I am now eager and energised.

Gods grace has again provided me with sufficient strength for the war. Even though supplies seemed depleted their for a while, the reinforcements have arrived and I am charging the hill.

I got 14 left. And I am out to win every single last one them. Moment, by moment, from lights up to curtain call.

Nothing is over...until its over.

Angels of the day: Case Western MFA's who did a wallop of a job pulling off an unrehearsed runthrough of a monster play. Lucas Rooney- because that guy just makes people laugh and it is fun to be around. My beautiful cousin Kym and her husband and my other cousins who came to see me tonight. I am so blessed with support.

OPENING NIGHT..........

Jan 18, 2006 8:14 AM

So, this is it. OPENING NIGHT. It all funnels down to a single curtain being lifted to unveil the living creation that has been molded by the imaginations of thirteen strangers brought together under one roof to speak the mysteries and truths written by a fading dreamer.

We will convene early before the show and immediately begin to tussle with our own and each others innate performance anxieties. Like a man on trial we will all be put before the jury (or the audience as we like to call it) and await approval. Confirmation that our preperations and endless hours of rehearsal, imaginary construction, justifications, frustrations, confusion, discovery, passion, conflict and dreams were not in vain- but served to preserve and fortify the art form that we have sacrificed our security to serve.

Absolutely frightening.

Cool, huh?!

All mystery aside, Opening Nights are a lot like New Years Eve. Lots of hype and to-do, but all in all it is just another night. But then- sometimes- when the stars align just right, and the universe tilts on its axis just enough to let the starlights reach the stage......magic baby! They are rare. Very. But a magical opening is part of the dream we cherish. So, as we approach that curtain tonight it is not unlike waiting to take a three point shot at the buzzer for the win. Only difference is- we know it is coming and we have all day to think about it.

This process has been my most challenging to date. A lot of it totally unecassary, but thats the nature of life. Its like coaches preaching not to commit turnovers in football- all week long they drill it into the minds of their players...."DON"T COMMIT TURNOVERS AND WE WIN!" Then come Sunday what happens?? Five fumbles and an interception. And if you notice a player after he commits a turnover, the first thing he does is look to the sky. I wonder why.

Tonight is the night we must cast our creative individuality into the fire with one another, to create a vision that is fueled by the flames of unity. The passion of desire does not burn at it's highest alone, but rather elevates to its peak by combining the forces of all our magic.

Dam, that is well put if I do say so myself. Isn't it amazing that I am single?

ANYWAY-

My parents will be in attendance tonight along with the press and donors of the theatre. I will walk upon that stage with great pride. I left Akron Ohio, fifteen years ago with a dream to become a working proffessional actor. And, I am doing it. Not yet to the level of my full potential, but I am back on that trail. And gaining on it fast.

God has blessed me so bountifully. He has lit my path out of the dark jungle I was lost in and simply because I asked him to, and kept a promise to obey to the best of my ability. God rocks.

Angels have brought me here. They have protected me from my demons and nourished my foundation so that I could survive the spiritual famines that come with these types of stress fueled situations. There are thorns on the roses but still I believe the roses will blossom tonight. They will expose themselves to the elements of human desire and brutality, truth and magic,
and perhaps...just perhaps...the stage will shine out and the audience will bask in the warmth of its glow and we will live inside the self contained world of creative imagination.

Angels of the day: Wendy and her healer friend, Michael Bloom, Tony Brown, Rachel from the coffee shop, and all my family and friends who keep me afloat on the stream of dreams.

A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE..............arrives tonight at 7:30 pm!!!!

NOTHING IS OVER.....IT'S JUST GETTING STARTED

Jan 16, 2006 8:35 PM

WOWEEE!. One week from my last entry and boy howdy doo I tell you what-

That was one brutal **%##$@ blow me down week. I mean beat. Total exhaustion. Hanging on and just letting the beast have its way with me. On top of it we seemed to be a ten headed monster with each brain striving for an alternate route.

It was just a blur. A vast puddle of notes, changes, shifts, adjustments, back and forth, again, and again, and again. Inflated egos, suppressed angers, misdirected intentions, miscommunications, tempers, gratuitous cajoling and slants aimed to discredit and divide. Confusion, mistakes, lack of vision and then too many visions, no voice, then screaming....

CALGON! TAKE ME AWAY!!!!

Ancient chinese secret huh?!

No. No siree henry. (Bobs younger brother) The week left me feeling hollow, frustrated, bruised inside and out, dilapitated and doubtful. But today I awoke and set to getting back on course for the final sprint to opening. Cleared the slate. Did laundry, restocked the fridge, went to the gym and did some good ol' fashioned iron pumping.

I am resting my voice and still wrestling with some beats within the show. But I just might have unlocked them finally with a little visit from the Acting fairy late this afternoon. I love when that happens.

Anyway. I am feeling hopeful. This has been a very challenging process and I have passed through some deeper shades of soul somewhere along the way. I have gone through some periods of serious doubt in this thing. The rapids seemed to be destined to take me under at times but I never stopped fighting. Just kept fighting for understanding and searching for the keys.

I am determined and hopeful. I prayed for deliverance from my frustrations with this whole experience this past weekend. Absolute rescue from my feelings of isolation and feeling lost, disconnected, not just as Stanley but as me. Feeling like I am just whirling through the cosmos and at any time I could just collide with an asteroid and Bang!

Today I sensed the pendulum swinging. Faith coming in the crunch. So reliable yet so hard to rely on.

I want to fall in love again. I have a crush on someone but its silly.

I must rest now. I want to win. I want it all.

I FEEL LIKE THE COMEBACK PLAYER OF THE YEAR.....

Jan 9, 2006 7:20 PM

Man, here I am again. Restless. Mind surging with images, thoughts, regrets, ideas, intentions and desires- All at the same time feeling so hopeful and so helpless.

"Here comes the rain again" resonates from the sweet pipes of Annie Lennox in the backround....some eighties video show which is meant for entertainment, but in my current state of mind just serves as a direct marker of time.

I am looking at the digital display on the microwave that sits to the left of my makeshift desk upon some random second hand end table. I am living in a Shaker Square actor housing apartment complex in Cleveland, Ohio. The diggs are actually quite ample for the purpose of my existance. Which is simply to have a place to hide while I create the life of a mythical theatrical character named Stanley Kowalski. The clock reads 10:23. Today is our full cast day off before going into the chaos and malay of tech week,(a series of 12 hour days in which we integrate and finalize all aspect of our creation) which will run into previews and eventually spill through to a big opening night show and post party event.

It requires a phenominal ocean of stamina, passion, energy, and focus to make through tech week. Especially when doing a big show, with lots of props, costume changes, make-up, lights, music, its just madness.

But, I've been through it a hundred times and hope for a hundred more. Still, it is that last leg of climbing the peak where your center is always tested. Where you are driven to a point where doubts appear and whisper..."What the #$#% are you doing??!!" And you have to answer. You just have too.

This process for Stanley Kowalski has been a battle. First I had to face up and blast through all the preconceptions and preconceived ideas about the character. I had to seek his heart first. From heart create ones soul. Soul hides desires and desires harbor need. There is no absolute science yet at times it is so precisely scientific. A living breathing imaginary man that you step into. He suffocates you, and you fight him at first, your systems natural reaction to being blotted out again. It is a scarry process when you let yourself disappear. You wonder how you will come out of it on the other side. How many erasures can you withstand. They take a toll. All of them. They scrape your surface and they get into your mechanism. They find a cavern and connect to your engine like a parasite at first, but then your system adapts and they just become a permanent part of your emotional make-up. It is one of the many tolls we pay to play the stage game.

Stanley has brought out some disturbing aspects of my emotional past. Has brought a glow back to some of the angry blood that still rages under the bridges of my young adulthood. Aspects that I have carefully suppressed
with each breath so as to try and lure the beast into hibernation. I was reluctant at first. Poking at him half heartedly knowing deep inside that I was afraid. Afraid to wake him in me...to see his eyes in mine. Feel his knots in my stomach.The Pain, need, conflict, and discord. I thought maybe if I roused him gently perhaps he would play nice...but at the same time I knew "nice" was not part of this equation.

It took frayed nerves, frustration, sleepless nights, some cattle prodding from cast mates, soul drenching rollercoaster rides through the roledex of my pain files, and constant pounding on my walls of civilized contemporary man before the walls began to shake and tumble as they did when Joshua fought the battle of Jericho in biblical times.

To construct a map that leads to a man coming to the conclusion and exacting the action that Stanley Kowalski does in the end of "A Streetcar Named Desire" is thankfully a road less travelled. And one I will rope off with caution tape when the run is over. And hope that he goes quietly but I know what awaits me.

I have done my best to put myself into the best position I know how to succeed. Now, its time to put the candles on the cake...light 'em up- blow 'em out....and eat.

A year ago I was a wounded duck sleeping on a buddies couch, and I put it in my head then that I had to find a way back to the right track. It has been a long rehabilitation process complete with some serious setbacks, but I never lost site of what the goal was. To get back to striving for my full potential.

I made it back. I made it.

Now, I must press onwards. Over the final hill. The last battle that leads to the War. Guns at the ready. Locked and loaded. Communication is solid. Directives understood. Tactics, objectives and obstacles are studied and set.

Soon the sun will rise.......

OU WITH THE OLD....IN WITH THE NEW!!!

Dec 31, 2005 1:26 PM

Now, there is just no way I can summarize this whole year in one journal entry without cutting some major corners. But, hey, I am JPF- and as those who have known me since the delinquient days know- I still know how to cut a corner or two:)

Cutting ties after ten years in Gotham city was like a series of dental appointments that I knew were going to be long, painful, and expensive, but just had to be done. I had pocketed to much corrosion and harmful bacteria and just couldn't beat the infection. I was in need of a total root canal. A coast to coast one. It was time to hit the reset button. Etch a sketch my life and do like Big Bad Billy Idol said........StaaARt AgAAAAAin!!!

I packed my whole life into the back of an old red Ford Pickup and peeled out on 10 years of joy, pain, adventure, suffering, shame, love, grit, grime, beauty, war, peace, blood, sweat, and a vast ocean of tears and emotional waterfalls cascading down into filthy rat strewn subway tracks. I looked back once in my rearview at the sun rising onto the sleepless morph tundra and hummed the theme of Sanford and son as thoughts of my first job, my successes, my failures, my adventures, and the true love that almost was, burned into the hard drive of my memories.

The year started with a solid move to LA. A short stack of cash, a used car and a suitcase. Ahh...Hollywood! Boulavard of broken dreams and hustler schemes. It took me two months of random mattresses on floors, buddies couches, and a handful of nights in various LA parking lots reclined back in my 10 year old Nissan gazing through my windshield projecting my visions onto the low glow of the California sky.

A new leaf.

It almost never got turned. I fell into a familiar trap of old habits and formed a couple new ones that rivaled the old. I quickly dug myself straight into a big fat depression with shadows of doubt towering over me. No, agent, no work. No money and no home. Destruction set in to replace lack of creation and I am no stranger to wielding the wrecking ball. It didn't take long for me to pummell myself into a twisted, tortured mess almost void of any confidance before I came across an old script for a one man show I had auditioned for a couple years before. It was called one million butterflies and it chronicled a young ambitious writer on a cross country trip trying to put himself and his lifes conflicts into perspective. Tears dribbled off my chin as the words scorched into my heart and the engine in my actor machine (which is now the foundation of my very core) kicked over for the first time in months. It was sorely neglected and in major need of a tune up. It needed a new passion filter and creative oil change and Butterflies was my jiffy lube. I suddenly became a man with a plan. A new vision. A mission impossible. But then nothing is impossible when your mom is an angel.

She accompanied me to a old beat down theatre on Hollywood theatre row. We haggled a price that was conceivable. But, I was afraid. And she said something that had a most profound effect on me ever since. "Faith or fear, son" "The choice is yours....faith or fear?"

She was right. And I swore to myself at that moment that I would start making the right choices. I knew there would still be moments of fear, but that I could overcome them with faith. That is how courage comes to be. And I aimed to become courageous.

I formed a production company and named it Left Field Productions. It was my mothers suggestion and at first I thought it a bit generic but then I remembered the impact of the slogan from my young days as a competitive ball player. "...and then outta left field,..." to me it resembled where miracles came from. Where the unexpected and unexplainable were created. And that seemed to fit what I was envisioning. Some unknown magic that was born out of thin air had led me to an old script in an old box of crap I just as well could have left in the trash bin behind my nyc apartment. And these words jumpstarted something in my heart and turned the ignition on the engine of my craft that had just survived a demolition derby.

I poured two months of work into One Million Butterflies and although it garnered me nothing in the way of theatrical acclaim in LA, it served a purpose far greater. It redefined my dream. It was a rebirth into the next chapter of my creative journey. I was shedding a very thick layer of calloussed and bruised skin that I had clung to for protection. The new skin underneath was shiny, tight, and eager. Resilient and receptive. Open and hopeful again. It was a me that I had buried under ten years of emotional debris from allowing myself to be led astray down alleys and sideroads searching for good time gratifications and kaleidescope crapshoots.

Born again. And in more ways than one. Once I completed Butterflies I found myself searching to give thanks. And God came back into my life via a fantastic convergence of a loving family named The Ricks, and the open arms of truth that had been there all along waiting for me to wake up.
I recommitted myself to God and the wisdom that lies within his truth. It has been a phenominal source of strength. Strength I would desperately need.

The next chapter of the year entails a personal family matter which is not appropriate to highlight here due to its delicate nature. But, there is a battle being fought on the front lines of the Field Family heritage. Perhaps it is genetics, perhaps demons just don't like to travel too far. Perhaps it is just a cancer that is spreading and is in need of some aggressive treatment. Whatever the case it has led me to what is now six months of absolute sobriety and although I cannot yet say where the destination is....I know that I am on the right path. Sometimes things need to be revealed in stages. God's grace is sufficient and I will follow.

From that time, I shot a commercial, completed my voice over demo and have had successful contacts in that respect. I did a run of Sunset Park with a great company in LA and made some great friends and contacts. I have partnered with a very talented Elizabeth rick to do a cable accesss show that will come out this year and booked the role of Stanley in Streetcar and in my Hometown in time for the Holidays.

Its been a good year. A rags to riches type a year for my soul. And soon the pockets will fill. And more importantly the creative spirit will rise to the elevation it was intended to fly at. 2005 was tending to the much depleted field. 2006 is going to reap a harvest.

I thank God, all my family and friends who share in and support me. You all kick so much ass. I love you.....each and every one.....serious and deep, primal warm glowing life affirming creative love.

God Bless and be well 2005.

And for 2006.......its time to ROCK!!!!!

HOW CAN ANYONE BE SURE?

Dec 30, 2005 4:46 PM

Such a labyrinth. So many hidden corridors. Secret shadows looming. Echoing whispers with distinct but incomprehensible intention. Infinate black eyes peering straight into your core. Judging. Imploring. Influencing.

How can anyone be sure.

Today I peeled another layer of the onion in rehearsal for Streetcar. I enjoyed an interesting & entertaining slice of conversation with Doug Jewell who plays Steve in the cast. Doug has an infectious smile, sad but true eyes that have seen through some very dense life terrain. He listens and engages with an intense and joyous ease which is not put on but expressed effortlessly like pulling on that old favorite flannel. The one thats torn but has a certain pattern to it that makes it genuine. I am always inspired by those who have suffered the artists journey through their adult years. Peaceful warriors. Who have landed safely into their manhood with hope and a plan still firmly in tact.

Jason, another member of the cast who plays Pablo, was also there. Jason has a generous and inviting tenacity. His eyes are naturally fixed with an eagerness as if he can hardly wait to understand you and move on to the next level of conversation. He is bright and full of questions and contradictions which made me smile a wry smile at times in recognition of something vaguely familiar, like an old memory rediscovered by an unsuspecting source. I sense his mixture of excitement and fear at his forthcoming journey.

And there I was. Somewhere between the two of their journeys. And choosing as I usually do, to drink in their expressions rather than worry too much about where my experiences fit. I threw in token fragments of things enough to continue them talking so that I could observe and soak in their vibrations and behaviors and knowledge. I tend to shy away from conversations that start to venture into aetherial beliefs and philosiphies on life and spirituality. Not because I don't have my own, but because I usually have a hard time articulating because my passions sometimes overwhelm me or perhaps it is just that I am so constantly re examining and tweaking and transforming my definitions. Like my work as an artist I am in a constant state of unrest and contentment. Like my old junky days. Living somewhere between the pleasure of the buzz and the desire for the next one.

Our rehearsal ended with a tense conversation where everyone started slinging their opinions and trying to sell them like cheap bacon at a breakfast buffet. Cracks me up when actors start spewing their vivid imaginations onto the canvas of rehearsal room walls and deliver their concoctions with an air of pretentious intellectualism as if they are unmasking some secret compartment of their brilliance.

What a gas. When it was all said and done, everyone went back and did the same $^%%%^ thing they did before except with hotter blood.

I asked questions and avoided conclusions.

DIGG, DIGG, Rock! DIGG, DIGG, Rock!!!!!

Dec 29, 2005 7:11 PM

What is a flight without a little turbulence? I mean, life is not something that we can program to just change elevations due to atmosheric pressure without making the proper adjustments. We don't have an auto pilot option. If we suddenly experience a sudden change in cabin pressure we have to go through our emotional checklist and make manual adjustments to each and every component that is being affected in order to maintain the intended flight pattern. Now, like pilots, the better we know our equipment and the more familiarity and experience we have flying in and out of unfavorable conditions we begin to build up a certain confidance to overcome. We get better at recognizing the clouds, the shifts in atmoshere. We learn to weather storms and learn how to pick out air streams that have the highest probability of leading us to our destination.

Unfortunately. Sometimes people don't know where the destination is. So in desperation they just start flying in errattic patterns that put the sky in jeaopardy. Its when people start flying in loop de loops without any concern for any one else in the sky that we start to get a sense of real chaos in the airflow. Peole diving in and out of cumulus cloud formations at light speed with no regard for the disruption of air traffic.

ANd before you know it.

Vertigo.

No sense of direction. No up. No down. Utter confusion. Its hard to land when you are uncertain where the ground is. And because you have been flying without any purpose for so long you are unable to read the signs that the ground crew is throwing at you. You hear the instructions from the flight tower but you have lost the ability for application.

So what gives? What do you do.

You make a choice. The ultimate inner choice that God places in all of our hands from the moment of inception.

Fly right, or crash and burn.

Thats it. Door number one or door number two. Crash and burn is the easy way out. Just hit the gas let go of the wheel and fuck me or anyone who is in the way.

Or, you focus in deep. Listen hard to the tower. Trust your ground crew and striagten out your bird and get in the flow.

More to write but the coffee shop is closing and I gotta go.

I am in a constant crush. But people. I have crashed and burned and lived to tell the tale. And I am here to say...flying right is a hell of lot harder but has a lot more reward. Stay the course. Maintain elevation and deal with turbulance. Yeah baby!

Peace-out!.

SOMETHING TO REMEMBER........

Dec 20, 2005 7:30 PM

The past two weeks have whizzed and whirled around me and I have just been hanging onto the kite tail as best I can. I have prayed for and received divine energy and used it to the best of my ability to accomplish the tasks at hand. I had five days to remount a production that took me three weeks to do in LA. Granted some things were already in place, but other things had to be completely rethought out and applied to a space that was three times the size of the original space. But all in all. I think some aspects turned out better than the original. Of course, I am never satisfied artistically and there are a ton of little things I will spend the next phases of One Million Butterflies polishing and tweaking in endless persuit of a perfect show. Still, I confess...I am proud, dam proud.

Now, I got a lotta help. The hometown angels spread their wings and people like my brother and my sister in law, my dad, my boys Fu & Heath, the staff at Akron University, and a lot of people I didn't even know made essential contributions to making the flight of the Butterflies possible once again. I'm telling you, there is some kind of magic in this show. I am positive not everyone is receptive to it. But it exists none the less. So many amazing things have taken place that are truly unexplainable in order for these productions to have happened on the level they happened. It is just mind boggling. But then it is also just another example of faith. I am finally started to get my brain around this idea that if you put yourself in the hands of faith...they will hold you. It will turn out. Not that you don't have to bust your ass. You still have to prove yourself faithful. The hands won't hold you just for begging, but if you make the effort, they will make sure you are supported.

It was a real test because it turned out that the two nights of the show coincided with my first two full days of rehearsal for streetcar. Which came after a five day marathon of implementing lights, training sound and light board operators, setting sound levels, building the set, and lets not forget rehearsing the 90 minutes of straight dialogue containing 8 different characters. When I showed up Friday night I was on fumes. Pure fumes. It was one of those situations where my legs were rubber, my brain was just exhausted. I couldn't focus. My body was aching and I had sixty people waiting for me to show them what the hell this One Million Butterflies was all about. I got down on my knees in the dressing room and just said.."God, your grace is sufficient. It will provide me strength. I must perform and I need your divine power to keep the lines coming because right now I can't remember anything!" Then I got the call..."Jason? Places! Places!

I walked out and the music started and the lights came up. I glanced out and saw the outline of people whom I had known since childhood. Family, and cousins and teachers and students all staring blankly at me having no idea what to expect. At first I went into a total panic. My heart started to pound in my head. My arms felt numb. Words started coming out of my mouth and my body started moving but my mind was suddenly handgliding over the landscape of childhood memories associated with people in the audience. I had forgot that this show exposed so much of me and my inner thoughts. I had forgot that I had projected such a different person to these people and that they didn't really know what I was about. I suddenly felt my throat tighten and a huge cloud of doubt descended on me. "Will these people get this?" "Will they understand that these emotional riffs were born and nurtured within the confines of my experiences with them? Will they recognize them, or me? My head was literally swimming with thoughts that had very little to do with the words that kept pouring forth from my lips. I was performing in astral projection. Completely outside watching myself and carefully monitoring the emotional reactions and expressions of each audience member. As the show progressed I would recognise some of the shadowy figures and like a steep downhill skier my mind would tip over a vat of memories that would cascade through my frontal lobe and inform the show in a slightly different way. It was like I was riding a bull I had ridden several times in the past but he was now on some sort of drug and I was holding on for dear life.

Now luckily. I am a pro. I have done a LOT of shows. I know how to cover and I know how to compartmentalize and diffuse anxiety. I know how to channel doubts out the door and infuse nervous energy into performance power. So, the audience was not cognizant of any of this I don't think. But that is the beauty of this site. I can just let it all hang out. What the @$^$%^& its my life!

The next nights performance went much smoother as I was prepared for these little emotional side bends and what not. It was another notch of experience thought to get emotionally loose in front of people whom I had always maintained a certain mask in front of. But it was also very liberating. I got to be me. And in a certain way, I felt like I laid that ireesponsible, juvenile, brash, loud, confrontational, shock value jason to rest to a certain degree. Or perhaps I have just morphed him into a more effective and formidable man child who has battled through his fear enough to stand up and fight the good fight on the battle field of life. I can't say if I will win or lose, but I can say that I like my odds now better than I did a year ago. That progress is taking place. And what more can you ask for out of the journey of life?

Now I am immersed in Stanley Kowalski and A Streetcar Named Desire. I am slipping into a new skin and shedding (but saving) my One Million persona's. Stanley is the antithesis of Will from One Million. He is charm, and snake. A man who lays claim to what is his without shame or doubt. He is a driving animal force who refuses to be out foxed regardless of any limitations. Tennessee Williams wrote a masterpiece here. And it is something special to step into this world. We have a very good cast and a chance at a special production. Let the games commence!!!!

I have so much more to write. But the primal calls for me.
Be well to all and to all a good night.

TOO MUCH TOLERANCE???

Nov 17, 2005 11:25 PM

The truth. The truth. What is truth? What is true?

Hmmm. I'll admit right off the bat that I am on a bit of a digg here. There is something like a rock in my gut and its churning a bit.

I saw a movie tonight.."Goodbye, and Goodnight" with David Stathairn (whom I acted opposite on stage in Cherry Docs-see pics under reviews menu/click Cherry Docs)

Anyway he played Edward Murrow, and it chronicled his stand against Senator McArthies communism investigation where he was basically just pointing fingers at anyone who oppossed him and calling them communists.
The movie was very well done, superbly acted and it was cool to see David up there with guys like George Clooney and Jeff Daniels. David Strathairn had a huge impact on me when I worked with him. He raised the bar. He was more than just a great actor...he was a great man. He had more compassion for humanity than anyone I had known up to that point. He was a bit salty, but it wasn't personal, it was because he was on a quest and not willing to be diverted for something as trivial as courteous formality. At the time, I wasn't exactly sure what was driving him. I was like..."Dude...you have been in some great movies, you have made it...you are living the dream, you hang out with Kevin Bacon, what could you possibly be seeking to quench your thirst." I couldn't figure it out then, but I figured it out tonight watching him, and I realised it is the same fire that burns in me, and perhaps all actors....its the desire to find and expose the truth.

We avoid it almost all the time here in America. We choose more often to just glaze over our life trying to fulfill the domestisized material demands that we were raised to achieve. And when, truth tries to rouse us, causes us to reexamine our decisions, starts asking questions that we don't want to answer.....we drink, turn on the TV, get into relationships, go play video games or golf, whatever we can find to give us an excuse to not have to deal with it. The truth is something everyone claims to want, but very few
are willing to face.

An overweight woman stands in front of me in the line of the 7/11, holding a pastry, she turns and asks me "Are apple fritters OK for me to eat?!" in an attempt to deflect the obvious truth. Which is that she is fat and should be picking out a shiny red apple instead of seeking my approval to continue her addiction to blubber.

Political correctness has blurred our sense of truth. The cry for tolerance has paralized a nation that was founded by a bunch of people who had major balls and said, "screw colonization...we want independance". Fearless of conflict....driven by what was right, not what was politically correct and made everyone feel more comfortable.

It is not really a promotion anymore....to tell the truth. It is more about saying things....the right way. Artfully constructing our words around the potholes of truth that form what we REALLY think, what we REALLY want to say. Its as if life becomes a mission of getting through it without hurting anyones feelings, or causing a ripple.

Depeche mode has a great line in a song "Condemnation" which goes

"if for kindness you substitute blindness...please open your eyes."

Don't get me wrong folks, I am not advocating that we walk up to fat people in Krispy Kremes and slap donuts outta there plump little fingers.

Its just that, I find that a lot of what frustrates me at times in life is that I look back on certain situations and say...why don't I just say it. What I know is true. And a lot of times I catch myself trying to be so accomadating to people that I just say or do what I think they want. Or I fear how they might react to the truth, so I suger-coat things. This may just be in my family. I don't know. I am really just thinking out loud here tonight. But, there is something to this.

I feel as though we are being lulled to sleep in this country. The war, the corrupt elections, corporate corruptions, border patrol issues, the greed, the predjudice. If we just keep tolerating it...a little more...a litlle more....BOOM-
You accept it as truth evan though its not and now it becomes the norm. That my friends is cancer in the system. Spreading bacteria. Until finally the system says .."OK...I am sick...soon I will die".

I better get a few blockbuster movies under my belt so I can pull a Shwarzanegger and get into office. Start landing a few punches. Something tells me my bitching on this website isn't going to exactly create the change I am envisioning:):)

I will pick up this little tirade again later. I'm exhausted with my own thoughts.

THE MOMENT COMES....AND THEN ITS GONE!!

Nov 12, 2005 12:11 AM

Now, I am going to be fair and preface this entry by saying I am feeling a tad....how shall I put it?.......Dark. So, if you know me, and know how I am when I am dark......proceed with caution.

I often compare days of the actor life to poker hands. Sometimes you wake up and look at your hand and you just know you got a great hand to play. You got a pocket full a chips, a couple aces, and perhaps a queen of hearts winking at ya. The competition at the table seems a little sleepy and you are feeling snap, krackle, pop. And sometimes, (like in poker) you get on a roll, where things just keep coming up roses. Its like magic. The cards just keep dropping for you. Marching in to full houses and lining up into straight flushes. Pretty soon, you start to think..."man, I am good...I really got it all covered....no way I can lose".....

Enter "The Joker".

The joker is unpredictable. The joker is a wild card. The joker is a red flag because he signifies a sudden or abrupt change in the current. The joker is a two faced friend. He can be your savior or your judas and you just never know which way the joker is going to play you until the cards get turned up. The chips dissappear, and your just left sitting there with a stomach full of coal. Trying to figure out how the hell that dam joker could be so cruel.

Acting is like poker in the way that you can play it for a long time. You can be really, really, good. But- your still going to lose a majority of the time. You have to build a resilience to that. And sometimes you lose in a blink that goes so fast, by the time you have reacted...the moment is gone. And there is nothing you can do about that moment. Its history. You can replay it, re-think it, re-imagine it, any number of thousand times in your head, It doesn't matter. Its over. Done. WHATEVER.

I spent the last ten weeks preparing for my studio time today where I was to record my professional Voice over commercial demo. I meticulously and diligently worked on applying its principles to a plethera of various material. And I got in there today, and just felt like all my shots were bouncing off the rim.

Now-I expect A LOT out of myself. I set very high standards because I desire to be elite in my craft.

I did a real good job today. Some might even say its great. But in my heart of hearts I felt I was missing the bullseye all day.

Its like the frustration athletes must feel when they fall short on any given day. They know they are good, proffessional athletes. They know that nine times out of ten they make that shot. But not ten out a ten. Sometimes, you miss. And you just have to bite it.

I was given a lot of support to get this demo done today and I felt a great resposibility to make it something really great. I did everything I felt I could. But then you gotta step up to the plate. You gotta produce it. I swung for a home run and I hit a double.

It'll play. Its respectable. But dam..........I wanted to deliver the Whammy!

The joker bit me. He threw my neck out, the night before, woke me up too early, jumbled my morning and put me in a succeptable state of mind. I fought him, I focussed and gave all the effort I had. But the joker is the joker...he is gonna have his impact. Its part of the game.

Now, of course, tomorrow I will be dealt new cards. And the game will continue. I will fight back, get better and eventually I will run the table. And at some point the joker will visit me when I think all is lost and offer me a windfall to set me back up. Its cyclical. A love/hate relationship.

But one of these days...

I'm gonna outfox that fucker....and laugh my ass off.

A MOMENT OF SUSPENDED ANIMATION..........

Nov 9, 2005 10:57 PM

Raindrops echoing with a distant rooftop ting. Engulfed in a warm silence that secures my spirit. My heart is full. My eyes expectant. My soul eager.

A skin shedding is in progress. Actually, this may be closer to a metamorphisis. A subtle, but poignant inner transformation.

In professional sports they talk about how when you start to operate at your highest potential, when you get into a "zone" the game starts to slow down. As if things are happening in slow motion and you feel as though you are controlling the action. You start to anticipate making great plays and they happen. They just come to you. Its not magic. It is a state of mind.

We have all seen it happen. Jordan. Bonds. Ali. Montana. It was as if they knew what was going to happen before it happened. Execution of perfection. Beautiful.

Now, these guys didn't just wake up this way. It wasn't like...Mozart. These guys went to college, worked hard, and stood out. Banged through a few tough times in the begginning years of their careers, even struggled at times. But then somewhere they just elevated above the haze and started playing like jedi knights. And kept elevating until they set a new standard for individual acheivement within their craft. Raised the bar to a place that people had to say...well, I guess if we are gonna compete, we are going to have to play at a different level. They redefined how you had to play the game.

Okay...as you know....I am working towards something of a point here.

Actors are a lot like athletes. The crafts require vastly different applications of ones instrument. But there are similarities in focus, concentration, preperation, execution, and intangible reactions that demand flexibility. They both conjure great emotion and fear. They both require a great amount of discipline. They all work with a supporting cast. (yes, boxers have trainers and coaches) They all have off days, miss shots, and sometimes have to perform miracle comebacks to win over the crowd. They sometimes lose. Their careers can go from nowhere to everywhere in the blink of an eye. Kurt Warner? Rich Gannon? Drew Brees?

How does it happen? You fall down seven times...you stand up eight.

Now, when I first entered the world as a professional actor was really about 1997. Two years after I graduated from Carnegie Mellon University. I moved to NYC and for two years was really just trying to figure out which way was uptown.

CMU is to actors what USC or OHIO STATE is to football players. It is a kick ass program that is nationally recognized for excellence. Now, does every draft pick become a Montana,...no. A majority never even have a career. (Art Schleister??!) Even fewer actors will make it. Just the way it is.

My class at CMU started with fifty four freshman. Only seventeen of us graduated. Of that seventeen, one has done some major stuff, another one has forged a Broadway career, and about four of us are still surviving, hacking away at the base of this giant redwood tree with some notable acheivments but nothing that is going to take us to the pro bowl. The rest have hung up their cleats and moved on to other, more secure careers or families.

Now actors careers are much longer than a football players. Athletes got about a ten year window (tops) for a legitimate shot at greatness. Actors can spring up in their forties and even later. (Kevin Spacey, George Clooney)

A difference that favors athletes though is that, when they get drafted they go somewhere and play. They work at it year round to compete. With actors, we have to create work for ourselves when times are tough....which is MOST of the time. All the greats worked hard. Practiced hard. Prepared hard. Harder. Hardest. Thats how they got seperation. They sacrificed. They were willing to go further. Dig deeper. They didn't have to. (See shawn Kemp) They could sign the big contract and then go drink beer and say #%#$^ it! I'm rich. To hell with practice. But they didnt. Even when Jordan came back and played for the wizards, he was the first one on the court. He had six flipping rings!!! No one would have questioned if he had shown up at half time in his boxers munching on some cheetohs. Thats dedication.

Now, I appreciate that. I appreciate the idea of striving for greatness. Its hard to be great. It is also scary. People want to derail you. People will take every chance to highlight an infraction along the way in your persuit. They will quickly try to save you from failure by offering you easier routes and suggesting things that would require less effort.

Being great comes with a lot of responsibility, because you have to live up to the standard of whatever greatness you acheive or face the masses who will undoubtedly scream for your head. (See the story of Jesus)

This is long ......I know, but bear with me.

Not everyone has the potential to be Jordan. And many who might have the potential will choose not to excercise the option, because they just don't want the responsibility that comes with it. They are scared to succeed, scared to fail, or unwilling to sacrifice certain ammentites they have become acusstomed to. They want the rewards of Jordan, but without the blood, sweat & tears.

I lived the first ten years of my professional acting career like that. I worked hard enough to get into the unions. Get work. I acheived some notable successes that made me a legitimate pro. I was above the curve in respects to credits. My peers respected my work ethic. My talent. And I became pretty content with getting paid to do regional theatre on the east coast, have lots of free time to hang out and look at chicks in bars and be the envy of my friends who cursed their day-jobs. I allowed my talent to slack a bit at times with the confidance that I could snap it into shape come game time. Hey, not bad for a guy from Akron Ohio who came from a broken home, got kicked out of two high schools, graduated with just over a 1.0 and was voted class clown.

I figured hey. I have already accomplished more than I ever thought I would, so from here on out is just gravy. I started to let myself go. Let myself drink a little more often, then alot more often. I stopped reading as much, I numbed my creative spirit and dulled my fire with wordly distractions and desires of the flesh. Just started leaving it all up to chance. Playing the lotto. Hope for the best, and expect the worst.

Then something happened. A moment of suspended animation in which I saw my potential bleeding out of my pores. I saw that I was selling myself short. That I was very fortunate to be blessed with my abilites and that I was squandering opportunities. And for what? Why come this far? Invest this much? Just to walk away happy with a 9-7 season and a possible wild card birth?

Fuck that. (sorry mom, needed the emphasis)

I want a super bowl ring. Not only that. I want to be the MVP of the game.
I know I have that potential. Others have supported that opinion. Yet I constantly undermined myself. But, I am here to tell you- I jumped off the runaway train. I've dusted off my haunches and have recommitted myself to getting this single engine off the ground. I am reinvesting myself, rededicating myself on a different level. A deeper level. I can't change the past, but I can change the future.

Sacrifices are being made. But my arsenal is expanding.

I can feel things slowing down a bit. Everything is in front of me. I got my eyes at 360 degrees. I am starting to anticipate things happening. Good things. Leading to great things.

Get ready people....

The rain has subsided. My eyes are blury. Tomorrow awaits for me to discover its mystery. Will it be the day that will change the rest of my life?

Perhaps.

If not, I do know this.....its one day closer.

CH...CH...CH...CH....CHANGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (in the spirit/stylings of BOWIE)

Nov 7, 2005 11:50 AM

Changes!!! New things on the website!! I told you they were coming o' ye of little faith:):) Actually, I was starting to wonder if it was going to happen myself, but I persisted and the ball is at least rolling.....finally.

So, here is what we got and what is in the works.......

*1)A new headshot shuffle so each time you hit the site you will get a different image. Right now there is only four on the rotation, but many more will be added to break up the monotany of having to see my "brooding edge" look every time you stop by.

*2) A "Songs" page has been added. We took the "faithful lies" tune off the automatic homepage response and created its own page with the addition of a few other minimally produced tunes I have penned. This way you have the option to listen to the songs or not. You can also download and burn them if you wish!

*3) A Character Voice demo. This page currently displays just my character/animation voice over demo which I produced with Leno out at J-Wolf studios.(A very minimally produced rough cut) This Friday I am going into an LA studio to produce my professional commercial voice over demo which will be added to this page as soon as it is engineered and mastered. Then in a few months a fully produced animation/character demo will follow.

*4)" Now Playing" page will give info, description and images pertaining to current projects as well as future projects and performances. This page has not been loaded yet but please keep checking back because it is soon to come and there is LOTS going on!

*5) "Images" is another page still being loaded. When finished it will contain still pics of daily LA persuits, characters, obstacles and adventures that will likely be accompanied by captions explaining their relevance.

*6) "Movies" page. This one I am really excited about! It is still in the loading stage and may take a tad more time BUT- eventually it will contain a myriad of video projects ranging from outakes of Left Field Productions upcoming cable access show "The ActorLife" as well as spy cam video streams of my commercial auditions (so you can get a sense of some of the crazy crap actors have to endure in hopes of a break) It will also contain a trailer documentary of Left Field Productions "One Million Butterflies" and "Karaoke Superstar" . This page will probably have a rating system just like video games....M for Mature content.....E for everyone....and so forth. It is going to be Super-Cool!!!

*7)Left Field Productions page will be reconstructed into a mission statement connected to a paypal donations account that distributes funds directly to Left Field productions. Donations recieved are used soley to benefit upcoming projects that support Left Field Productions and its clearly stated intentions.

The Journal page remains the same as I have been so pleasantly surprised, and touched, and blessed by the responses and support I have recieved by those who have taken the time to read it. This page was originally intended for me to document certain monetary issues for entertainment tax purposes, but it ended out being a great big blank canvas for me to splatter my daily musings on. I have got responses from people as far out as Alaska! Thankyou so much for all of you who come to check in on my progress and the progress of Left Field Productions....these changes were made with you in mind. To make this site a fun, interesting and creative place for you to visit wether it be to get involved, be entertained, find hope, inspiration, or just check in to see whats going on!

Thanks be to the almighty Kevin Morgan who is the creator of this website. He did it for a very, very, charitable price and I feel very fortunate to have him as a friend. You rock Kevin! Even when your a flake!!!:):):):):):)

And thanks be to all of you....Family, friends, fellow artists, soul brothers & sisters, who visit. God bless and keep you.

Peace-out. Jason.

THERES NO PLACE LIKE HOME......

Nov 1, 2005 1:46 PM

I have spent the last fifteen years of my life living in metropolitan areas hunting creation. From 91-95 I lived in Pittsburgh, PA while attending Carnegie Mellon University. Not a mecca of a city but certainly bigger than my hometown of Akron, Ohio.

In 1995 I moved to NYC which is.... "The Mecca". I mean Sinatra didn't sing "LA, LA" or "Hong Kong, Hong Kong" he sang "New York, New York!" And for good reason. Gotham City is nots to be @#@$# with and it truly is a test of survival to pull off living there while persuing creative arts, or anything for that matter. Make no mistake- Its the biggest, baddest, wolf of them all.

In 1997, I moved breifly to Los Angeles, and then to Austin Texas.

Back to NYC in 1999, until 2005 when the winds of fate blew me back out west to Los Angeles for another round. And here I reside, on the corner of Overland and Palms, in the Palms Vista apartments which advertise ocean breezes which I have yet to feel.

A solid fifteen years of chasing the dream. How sweet the flight of a butterfly:)

So- whats with the geographical history blubber?

I'm getting there.......easy, Sergeant Pepper.

In these big towns everyone keeps talkin all this.. "its so LA" - "Thats NYC for ya"- "Welcome to the jungle" and they have a point. LA and NYC are cities that impose a certain lifestyle upon you. You have to deal with the beast in order to survive. There are no "days off" or "getting away from it"....if you live here...your in it. In the guts. Writhing in the bile desperately seeking air, space, seperation from the muck. And it never comes. So, you adjust. You comprimise, and eventually relent.

Or, if you are like me- you fight the dirty bastard every second of the day.

I take pride in where I come from. I didn't always. In fact when I was young growing up on the streets of Akron, I hated it. Cursed it. Couldn't wait to break out of that prison junk yard of drunks and posers. Boredom seekers, and habit formers. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. FRIDAY!-when we switch to our other routine....drinking. There was no end to it. To me it was like living on an assembly line, waiting to be told when to eat, what to eat, where to eat it, when to sleep, what to wear, where to go. And if you dared to break from the norm- or deviate- it was like the Romans chanting around Jesus...."CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!" And I didn't come from a family that had really paved a way for me so, it was pretty much a choice of, a life of labor, crucafixtion, or escape and roll the big fuzzy dice.

I chose the ladder.

But over the years, all the fighting, all the struggles, the triumphs, and the tears. No matter how far or hard I run, Akron remains in my heart. Deep. Rooted. Permanent. It is where the fire began. It is where my dreams were given vision. Where I danced. Where I learned to fight. And to Akron, I pay great homage.

Of course, there is the text book knowledge of Akron...Toy and marbles capitol in the 30's & 40's. Rubber capitol in the 50's to the 70's, Home of AA, and now it reigns supreme in palamer plastics. It produced the likes of DEVO, Chrissie Hind of The Pretenders, James Ingram, and more. And that stuff is all great. But, that stuff is not what defines Akron to me.

To me it is the looming, metallic, steel gray sky with Jumbo jets flying through it that never seem to have the intention of landing. It is the smell of wet leaves congragated into a pile next to a dank sewer. The sickly sweet expulsion of alcohol sweating out of my pores from the night before. Baseball hats pulled low. The wafting of Swensons burgers and coffee. Exhaust fumes. Gas stations and crushed cigarette boxes. Luigis late night neon sign. The sound of water kicking up off the rain drenched street into wheel wells with "Hotel California" echoing from within. Bada- bum -bum-bum.....On a dark desert Highway....Cool wind in my hair......

The scent of my father. The warmth of his hug. The tickle of his stubble against my face when he kisses me. The twinkle in the eye of my grandma who is now shorter than me. The belligerent laughter of my friends and the distinct sound of wonder in their voices as we discover ourselves as adults. The fear that still grips my gut when I see or hear about lost loves, or past bullies. The pounding speakers of the Bucket Shop and the harrowing quiet that engulfs Highland Square in the early morning hours. The college girls stumbling down main street still trying to look "hot" in designer jeans while eating a slice of greasy peperoni pizza. Drenching my sorrows in chicken wings after another promising home team season, comes to another dissappointing end. Krispy Kreme. Spring Art exhibitions at Hardesty Park. Pebble infested dirt baseball diamonds that were once the stage of epic battles to make it to "The day of Champions" Driving with Fu down Akron Peninsula rode very late at night, chain smoking Marlboro lights while blaring Adam Ant, depeche mode, or Billy Idol songs over and over. Finding a dance floor with Tipler, and going out onto it with every intention of leaving our impressions of blood, sweat, and anger for everyone to see...without shame. Long bikerides out to Norton with Mason just to make out with a couple of girls we weren't even sure still lived there. Waking up at the rizopulos's hung over hearing Annette on the phone. Driving backwards in Shaggy at fifty miles an hour with Johnny W. screaming....."DUUUUUUUDE!" Hitting the Ford impassable in Heath Saltis's pick up after Fu's wedding at an improbable speed all the while swilling Gentlemans Jack and shouting "Yahoo!" For real. Countless amounts of steak and eggs stuffed down into booze soaked intestines while recounting the nights events that we would soon forget. (Thankfully so at times) Looking out the window of my brothers house onto a freshly fallen, silent shrowd of snow. The crunch of it under the Goodyear radials as Fu or Heath pull in to pick me up to go run some errands. Passenger seats, looking out the window onto a constantly changing landscape of memories and hope.

Yes sirree. Thats home sweet home to me. And I wouldn't trade ya home towns for all the real money in New York or the fake boobs in LA.

For years I waited for my chance to get away. And now I await my next trip home with eager anticipation. I have something to show you. The excavations of my passion are taking shape. And I want to share it with you. Because, you see, It took me all this time away from home, away from family & friends to realise just how important you are. Its through the goggles of Akron, and in response to my time spent with all of you that has led me to being who I am as an artist, as a man.

Thankyou.

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW THE RAIN IS GONE....(FROM MY BRAIN)

Oct 25, 2005 10:49 AM

Something I wrote a while back that I found somewhere in the corridors of my dreamscapes this morning. I believe it surfaced from the depths for a reason. So, like I do....I'll share.

In the distance
I see all that passed me by
And what all seemed so unhappy
gave way to a subtle smile
Each time I wrestled fear
I became stronger in the moment
Now, that its here... my destiny,
I shall never forget
So, extremes will I challenge
for now and forever
fighting fiercely against the pains and gains of the world
But somewhere
behind the curtains of my soul,
I'll smile
And no one will ever know.

Now the words of this poem or passage or whateverthe@$#@ you wanna call it have changed a tad over the years. I originally wrote the heart of it when I was a confused young actor who found himself studying modern dance at North Carolina School of the Arts in 1989. A school I was eventually invited to leave after being implicated in the theft of a huge mirrored disco ball I stole from the theatre prop room. These born again christians told on me. At the time I hated them for doing it, but in hindsight they were indeed angels. If they had not done that I may have stuck it out as a dancer and would now be wearing tights inviting all of you to my next "Martha Graham" experience. SO next time you go to bag on Christians....think twice...they could save your life.

ANYWAY.

I started scribbling thoughts in High School. Mostly in the form of what I thought would be songs- as I had visions of being, well.....Depeche Mode. That is who I wanted to be when I grew up. Depeche Mode. Those who have known me since High school know this to be true and are smiling right now.
Hey, we all had heroes. Incidentally, I am still a DM devout. AND ADAM ANT LIVES!

The songs I was trying to pen often went off course and became emotional vomit sessions on paper. Angry riffs about whatever was pissing me off. I was a real angry pup. Who has grown into a pretty angry dog. And as you can see, I still spew my vile onto the page. But, as the angry dog grew I sought to season it with humor, humility, some perspective, and hopefully some wider insights.

Well, 16 years later with the exception of some structural improvements and some word advancement, the passage remains pretty much intact and is still as vital to my sense of being as the day I wrote it.

There will be a point to all this.

So, early this morning when I was called to the porcelin for my middle of the night release these words were just pounding in my head. So much so, I couldn't get back to sleep. As I often do when words wake me, I sought them out to investigate their calling. I uncovered this particular stanza at the bottom of a large wooden wine box in my closet underneath folders upon folders filled with scrap papers of scribbles, script ideas and rusted love letters. I pulled it out and started tracking the changes it had undergone since its original birth. I thought deeply about when and why I had changed certain words and lines and was amazed at how easy the deductions were. I saw so very clearly how I had been letting the world define who I was at different times.

I remembered that when I wrote it the first time I had committed to not smoking pot anymore. A huge deal to me at the time. Prior to going to N. Carolina I was a real rebelious egg. I had my hands real dirty. Had been kicked out of two high schools and graduated with the kids that your kids will be taught not to hang out with. The lost. The forgotten. The "who cares- just get 'em outta here" kids. Then theatre came drifting by like a lifeboat and I grabbed it. Or rather was thrown into it by my angel of a high school teacher Miss Beverly Smith. I felt very fortunate to have escaped from my blunder of catastrophes in High School and decided to make a clean go of it in order to make the most of my opportunity. So the poem was written as a preperation for battle. It was a concoction for me to take solace in for when times got tough. Cuz...I knew shit was gonna get tough. And when things got tough I usually wanted to leave by way of the first available substance that would take me on a vacation to anywhere-via the magic carpet ride. The words were written hard in ink. Block capitol letters. As if I were about to embark on a mission that I knew I might not return from. They read with conviction.

The changes over the years were mostly dilluting that initial surge. They were changes that tried to reason with the changes to moderation, responsibility, conformity and convention. (all of which I sucked at!)

I also noticed the changes coincided with times of my life when I slipped back into my novacaine lifestyle. When I was saying..."screw it...life blows so you might as well party while you can"..........FEAR.

Instead of letting the words shine as the beckon they were intended by my young vigilant soul, I tried to rationalize them to fit my failure and curtail to my fear.

It was very evident why the poem had awaken me. Or perhaps my recent actions awoke it. I am four months sober for the first time in my adult life. (For those who don't know me- I am not a gutter drunk woozie swilling feind. Just someone who is trying to cut through the haze) The point is, the words had to be restored to reflect their initial purpose. And as I made the corrections this morning I realized how much poems are like life. You come into them pure. Then defile them with all the wrong influences. Then try to restore them to their natural beauty so you can appreciate and apply them appropriately.

The changes may seem subtle to you, maybe not, but read carefully this last version I had written when leaving NYC. Drenched in depression and having lost a heavy hand of poker to Gotham city. Compare it to the much more original version at the top of this entry.

In the distance
Its all passing me by
what I thought would be happiness
gave way to a bitter smile
Each time I played by fear
I became stronger for a moment
Now that I am here for eternity
I will try to forget
So, extremes I've touched
but soon shall I sever
and give in to the pains and gains of the world
But somewhere
In this dusted shadow
I'll smile
And no one will ever know.

Now both versions are true reflections of where my life was and is.
This version reeks of defeat, self pity, and desperation. The version up top, is very close, I mean very close to the original written when I was 19 years old.

So, perhaps it is not that we are here struggling with ourselves to change this, change that, change, change ,change.

But rather return with clarity to that purity the maker blessed you with in the begginning, before change got ahold of you.

Something to ponder Grasshopper:):):)

Angels of the day: My sister who celebrates her life existance today and I am celebrating her too, along with our whole family. Lisa, I miss you and I am here, fighting with you every step of the way. You will find your way back. Let faith light your path. Wise choices await you. Truth accepts the truthful. Its true!!!!! I love you. Happy Birthday. Happy, Happy Birthday!!!!!!
Yo' little bro'....Jason.

CHMPING ON THE BIT, TRYING TO MAINTAIN

Oct 23, 2005 11:57 PM

Its ON. That little red light behind my eyes that is there as a constant reminder of how much time I have left, and what I have to get done before I go.

I am a man of many lists. I have Lists of life priorities.
1)GOD
2)FAMILY
3)HEALTH
4)CAREER
5)FRIENDS

I also have lists pertaining to each individual priority. So, a priority list within the priority. And within those priority lists I create priority lists within those. It is a full on priority bonanza. A priority buffet. Priority parfait?....no.

Anyway. In my room, surrounding my desk are lists scribbled. Things to accomplish in life, this year, this month, this week, tomorrow, today. Spiritually. In the context of my earthly family. Staying prepared physically, to meet the demands of my career, so I can truly enjoy time spent with friends.

Some things I have more control over than others. My family consists of five very specifically designed lunatics all with very different agendas and apllications, so with that one, I focus on priority number one (god) to help me out with things.

The rest of them have everything to do with choices. You want a relationship with God? Get one. Its free. Go to church, pray, fellowship, read your bible, and test the truth against the deceipts of the world and enjoy. It is just like planting wheat. Tend to your field, and your harvest shall be full.

Your fat and out of shape? Make different choices.
Your career is stuck? Make different choices.
Your friends suck? Make different choices.

Insanity is defined in AA as "doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result". This definately holds true in regards to alcohol. And really it applies in all areas of life.

Now, I respect that change is difficult. I have made a lifetime of swimming against the tide. Think you got it tough? Try a career in the arts in this republican ruled world. I'll; take the pepsi challenge with anyone who wants to compare career demands,or sacrifice any @#$@# day of the week. FACT.

But I digress.

Fact is, I enjoy challenge. It feeds me. If I didn't want to be here, I could make another choice. I could move to a small midwest town and have a successful sales career. Have 2.2 kids, buy a volvo, save for retirement and make out my will. Some people see that as a great life. I see it as a long death. So, I choose to be here. In the trenches. Grinding it out in the most competitive bussiness known to man. I'm constantly fighting with my back against the ropes and I feel alive. Thats just me.

So, here I am again. In the corner with a barrage of left hooks being thrown at me and I am ducking, bobbing weaving as best I can. Taking some hits and picking my punches. Now, I've been in the ring long enough to avoid the knockout punch, and when I am given an opening you best believe I am gonna attack. I haven't made it to these middle rounds by just taking a beating. I strike back. And I won't back down.

ANd thus, the funnell of time and acheivement continues on. By December fifth, I have A LOT to do, and it is going to get done. Why? Because thats the choice I make. And I am willing to take the consequences and stand true to what my maker placed me here to do. And come December fifth, I will stand above another slain block of time which I conquered only to look up and see a new block of time and complicated challenges that have taken shape to rise up to meet me.

The game is in progress.

WALKING THE LINE, JUGGLING MY TIME.............

Oct 19, 2005 11:32 PM

Life is preposterous. There are a few things I need to just let go of here tonight and luckily I have a website to vent on. So without further delay...allow me to start cutting loose some of this repressed emotional guck that is really jamming me.

First. As I venture deeper into adulthood I am reminded with great clarity my parents saying the words....."wait till you get older...you'll see," They were of course warning me on how infinately mind boggling life becomes as you progress and take on more and more responsibility. I also recall quite vividly that they usually expressed these notions upon receipt of some utility or credit card bill.

See, thats what bills do. They remind us of how much responsibility costs. And that is why all the utility offices and cable companies and credit card companies work in conjunction with one another to make sure that you get a flippin bill in your mailbox about every two or three days. Its true. They got it all rigged by computer. As soon as you pay one and say.."whew, thank God I don't have to worry about covering that for awhile" here comes old man cable bill knocking on your pockets. That nugget-head is in kahutes with Captain DSL who usually comes swinging his cup a couple days later. Then the usual suspects elmo electric and gumpty gas stop buy for their respected handouts. In Cali I even get a water bill. WATER! And lets not forget my personal favorite... the cell phone bill- who loves to find some screwball way to justify charging you extra for something almost every month. All the inbetween days are credit card bills that display forgotten cocktails, dreary dinners, unexpected car repairs and that cd you just had to have only to get home and remember you already have it downloaded on your computer. Life is expensive. Especially when your broke.

As if their constant reminder isn't enough to make us feel like pathetic hamsters chasing a peanut tree. They pack the bill envelope with "offers" to help create more bills. I got a bill from the gas company yesterday and the envelope looked like a @!$ %@# Student loan package. I felt like I was sorting through the penny saver trying to figure out how much I owe. Can't they just cut to the chase? One sheet of paper with big numbers on it.
YOU OWE US $55.00. SEND IT NOW OR PAY MORE!

I don't care about anything else when I open a bill. I don't want to read about how for three more dollars a month I can hook my gas line up to my microwave and have indoor BBQ's.

Credit card companies don't even keep track of who already has an account with them. I get credit card offers everyday for credit cards I already have. If I can't pay off the one you already gave me, why would you think I would start another one?!!! What the #$#%# is really going on here?!

Then the student loan people get after me with their whining.

Now, these guys I can empathise with a little. They helped me get a good education. One my family would have never been able to afford me. But then, what made them think if they lent thirty grand to a kid who came from my parents economic foundation they were gonna get it back. Especially considering I was taking the loans to study THEATRE!!!! Are you #%# kidding me??!!! Broadway is in debt and they think I am making enough to spare an xtra three hundred a month. Its really financial entrapment. So every month they call to ask why I am not paying and I simply say I don't have the money to pay them. Then they say but "you owe us". And I say again..." I don't have it." Then they say " well you better pay us" and then I say "are you impaired, or challenged in some way? I ate toast for dinner. I DON"T HAVE IT" Then they usually send me a form and I sign it and send it back and they give me some more time and tack on some more interest. Its just a big phantom as far as I am concerned. A ten year joke where the punch line just keeps getting funnier and funnier.

OK. I think that is enough nega-venom for tonight. Hopefully if you are reading this you will have found some humor in my reflective anomosity. Perhaps the next bill you open you will think of my futile rage and smile, and hopefully that will lessen the sting as you write the check.

Tomorrow is mine. I bow before no man. I answer only to God. Any questions?

RE-BIRTH OF THE INNER KING

Oct 16, 2005 10:37 PM

The cernals of creation are beginning to pop. They have been sauteing in the oil of ambition, feeling the heat of preperation.

"The Actor Life"...Left Field Productions cable access TV show is in pre-production and will air all over Los Angeles sometime in December.

I opened "Sunset Park" This past friday and we are sold out for virtually the whole run already. My role is small but integral - with its own set of unique challenges and I know this show is going to create some new paths for me here in LA. Plus the people I am working with inspire me because most of them are seniors who have survived "The actor Life" for their whole lives..and they give me hope.

I found a wonderful person to sublet my apt. as I will be leaving LA for Cleveland December 5th to begin rehearsals for The Cleveland Playhouses upcoming production of A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE. My preperation for playing the role of Stanley will really start this week.

In the days leading up to the Cleveland rehearsals, I will be reprising my one man play performance of ONE MILLION BUTTERFLIES at The UNIVERSITY OF AKRON THEATRE for a Left Field Production Fundraiser.

November 11th I go into the studio to produce my professional Voice over demo for agent considerration. My coach Nancy is phenominal. I have been diligent in my work on this. I know this tree planted will bear fruit.

Soon to be on this site will be a daily photo blog with captions. New music. Poetry, video streams of "The Actor Life" and periodic video stream journal entries as well as some hidden camera stuff! Keep coming people. I promise it will happen. How long to build rome??????!!!!! (AND HOW MUCH DID IT COST!!!)

This is the song I finished writing on my guitar tonight. I am entitling it:

Star-Crash.

VS. 1

This metallic heart
has suffered dings
chasing ghosts down this boulevard of dreams,
But I- sympathize
with the tears cried
in persuit of these extremes
I won't forget the past-
I'm keeping all my shattered glass
But tonight, I 'll put things right
watch these rusted wings take flight but-

CHORUS

Please don't let me fade away tonight
I'm fueled by the pull of the neon lights
These tracks take me back to where the fire ignited
I wont be going home without a fight
I'm so excited.....

VS. 2

This shaded soul
avoided tolls
creeping through the shadows, down side roads
oh I tried
to justify
avoiding truth, see the proof in these brown eyes
I won't go back to sleep
counting all my fallen sheep
But tonight- I'll escape
divinely guided to the on ramp of this free way so-

REPEAT CHORUS

(BRIDGE)

And they can say....what they wanna say
And let them play....the games they wanna play
But I, I wanna bathe in a moon bath
I wanna dance in the clouds
I want to elevate the night

I...I wanna die in a star crash
I wanna feel the sun blast
And incinerate me.

VS. 3

This weary clown
finally found
a moment to set his suitcase down
collect a breath
confess my thoughts
sort through all of these memories I brought
I don't fight alone
this war goes far beyond flesh and bone
But tonight- I'm making a break
Riding on these wings of fate

So please don't let me fade away tonight
I'm fueled by the pull of the neon light
I swear I don't care if its wrong or right
I won't be coming home tonight
And you're all invited...

Angels of the day: Colin, Jim, Jose Cortez (kicker for the Dallas Cowboys) Gigi, Laura- the perfume survey girl from the mall, Heath Saltis, and Beethoven...whose bust stares at me at my desk reminding me of how much deeper I can dig.

FOR MY NEXT TRICK....I WILL DO TEN THINGS AT ONCE!!

Oct 7, 2005 11:47 PM

OK. Here is the news. About a month ago, I was given the choice to fly to NYC to audition for the role of Stanley in the Cleveland Playhouses upcoming production of A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE. Probably one of the most important roles in contemporary American theatre in one of the greatest plays...ever. On top of that, its in my hometown. The Broadway of the midwest. Now, In the past I have been lured into these tantalizing auditions. Dumping mad cash into impromtu trips, resulting in crushing financial torture. Only to NOT get the jobs and be left broke with nothing but a six hour flight to think about what a dumb ass I am. I swore I would never do it again...and again...and again.

BUT- this time would be different. Why? ... Faith. It is the great thing about deciding to let the truth be your guide. To stop living unconcious. It changes the result of a journey you have taken a hundred times before. This time, I put it up to the man in charge, and said well, I will follow. I prepared like I always do, I spent the money I didn't have like I always do, I felt the pull of anxiety, I took note of the shadows of doubt trying to creep in.

I did do a few things different. I didn't tell anyone. This was between me, and God, and the people at the cleveland playhouse. A theatre I have been trying to crack for seven years. These Theatres aren't easy jobs to get. Like movies...they hire who they know. No one likes to take chances on a stranger. Particularly for the role of Stanley.

But this time I had supernatuural strength. It is strength that was given to me at birth. I know, I remember it. I laid it to rest like a dormant volcano in my late teens when I decided to start being unconcious by anesthitising my brain with alcohol. But now I was sixty days sober and my primal instincts were responding like the kid who won dance contests week after week without ever rehearsing in my early teens. Animal. Stanley.

I got on the plane and I knew. The anxiety fell away because there was no fear for it to feed off of. The shadows of doubt evaporated in the sunshine of my confidance. I walked into the room of the audition like a lion stalking a doe. Expectant. Ready to pounce. Devour. Consume. Triumph.

So....I did. And I left knowing. I went to my callback knowing that it was another chance to leave them without a doubt. And I did. They told me they had to think about it for a week, but I knew it was just because they didn't know what hit em. It was me, but it was me empowered by truth. Empowered by faith. Strength.

A week later I received the email...."You got it" from my agent. I smiled like I do when I finish a fat steak. Then I got on my knees and thanked the almighty for doing what he said he would do. Ask it in his name and it is yours. I did, and its mine. What more need I say?

So- now my life is in countdown mode. Now to December fifth, I gotta tie up all my LA loose ends so I can split for two months and return with things set up. Its no easy task people. Juggling your life around like a circus clown on bourbon. But its just another day at the office. I am in rehearsal for "sunset Park" which opens next Friday...producing, directing, writing and acting in a cable access show, private voice over sessions to prepare for my demo on November 11th, acting workshops on free nights, commercial auditions, teaching, catering, writing three scripts, working on fringe festival show, keeping one million butterflies up to speed for Ohio fundraiser, implementing changes for the website, editing documentary, and the hits just keep on coming.

But- for all my blathering here...deep down. I wouldn't have it any other way. Its my Rocky mentality kicking in. Because when the clouds do part...and they will...I am going to walk forth with the knowledge that I earned the right to split those clouds. No famous uncles, no contacts in the biz, no favors, no nothing but hard work, persistance, determination, desire, a loving family with lots of support great, great friends and faith...faith...faith. I have been making it a point to give myself a little credit lately. I don't intend it to be a "hey I'm great" party. But perhaps a little pat on my own back is OK sometimes. Keep on rockin in the free world.

TILL THE SOIL, PLANT THE SEED, WATCH IT GROW

Sep 24, 2005 11:27 PM

Bob Dylan once wrote...."Times they are a changin"....What he neglected to include in the lyric was....how?

Things change only when you make a concerted effort to affect change. If you have been growing your plant in dry soil, in a pot that is too small, no sunlight, lack of water- then I can pretty much tell you with a great amount of certainty that your plant is a struggling, withered, anemic, little botanical.

To change it, you gotta get your hands dirty. Sometimes the dirt is gonna spill out and smear all over the carpet. You might scrape your knuckles digging into the rotted earth, or against the jagged pot, to try and locate the roots. Its messy. You will uncover rocks, weeds, and parasites.

You will need supplies. Its going to require an investment & a commitment. A new pot. New soil. Relocation. Nurturing. Time and energy. Perserverence. Patience.

Once you unearth your wekened roots and your dying stems. You will have to secure them into the new soil. Encourage them with the support of nourishment. Expose it to sunlight. Give it a lot of attention. Be persistant.

At first, you may step back and wonder...."Why am I going through all this trouble...? REMEMBER-Even God needed a week. Breathe. Focus. Relax. Apply yourself. Give it a chance.

And quicker than you know, the weary stem is rejuvenated. The leaves that were curled and brown, unfold with bright veins. The roots themselves thicken and begin to generate new tenacles to grip the soil. As if to say....I want to live...

The flower heads fill with expectancy and burst open with new life energy. Brilliant colors, textures, patterns, and perfection unfold. The stem fills with strength to proudly push upward the newfound buds to the sky as if to say..."Look at me...Look at what I can be!"

So, if you are wondering about when times are gonna change...ask yourself-
How do I change them? Assess your soil, and start digging.

ANGELS OF THE DAY: Johnny & KRISTA. THE GUY AT THE GATE OF THE CEMETARY. THE WAITRESS AT EL CAYOTE.

FREE FALLING INTO FAITH....AND LOVING IT.

Sep 6, 2005 8:38 PM

Having faith means you don't have to hope so hard. When you get faith, you expect good things to happen instead of being surprised when they happen. When you take care of your faith, your faith will take care of you. Its free for the taking. Its fragile. You have to nourish it. Feed it. Protect it with your life. But- if you do...it will give you the life the way you imagine it to happen. I'm not street corner preaching here. Its just FACT. Like the nose on your face.

I had let my faith lie dormant for a long time while I allowed myself to be distracted by all the shiny, clever, trick-toys the world came up with to divert my attention from the good old fashioned TRUTH. I surfed on waves of bar room logic, book store philosophies, and drug wizard anecdotes. I myself performed more than once at the cynic caberet making sure all who laid witness to my performance got a taste of my bitter and jaded heart-tears. The world was a sham. We were all just here to make money and die. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Fade to black.

Then, the funniest thing happened. By a strange twist of fate, I stumbled back across old faithful. The book was dusty. Real dusty. The leather was tight. But the content was the same. It never changed. Never wavered. Never ran for cover as I had. Never reinvented itself. Never morphed or transformed. Never got angry, never once chided me for turning my back on it. It just opened itself right back up to me where I had left off so many years ago. There it was. Ready...open...waiting. The choice was mine.

There is that saying. Fool me one time, shame on you. Fool me two times, shame on me. Well, I am an intelligent person. I'm not easy to fool the first time. Its a pretty sure bet your not gonna see me trip twice over the same banana peel.

Now...I am well aware that God talk is not popular to a lot of people. It is certainly not considered "cool" from a pop culture standpoint. Some people get very uncomfortable. Some people go into a rage. Others laugh it off with feigned indifference. Some try to customize it so they can get the glass slipper to seem like it fits in public. Some unfortunately, have been in contact with false prophets and charlatons whose tonsil tonic left nothing but a bad aftertaste. But you know what. I stopped joining in popularity contests after high school. I am through being "cool". My rage is righteous. I laugh with full hearted pleasure. I don't have to customize what was made one size fits all. I have entertained the wolves dressed in sheeps clothing and shown them the door. I have been given a second chance to set things right. I only hope I have enough time left to get things back to even before my time is up.

Now, if me being a believer in God/Jesus/faith/ is a source of tension for some of you who might read this, (Long time friends&family included) I gotta be honest- I don't give a shit. But before you pass judgement and compartmentalize your opinion of me into your file banks. I gotta ask. Have you ever really investigated it? Most people that I get into talks with about this that have really big "problems" with God...or think its stupid...or bullshit...or just don't believe it...and when I say most I mean 90 plus percent. They have never even read it. The Bible I am talking about. Never read it. Yet they stand there in my face all pissed off condemming it as some historic fairy tale. Isn't that funny? Would you argue with someone over any other book in the world if they never read it? Makes you wonder.

Now me. I am really just now..really reading it. Investigating it. Trying to apply its theories. And I gotta tell you. I only wish I had gotten back to this sooner. The Truth is unlike the rest of the world. Its black and white. No bells and whistles. Just good old right and wrong. Build your foundation on whats right....see what happens. Build it on whats wrong. See what happens. Just that simple. Now, am I casting a net? Yeah...little bit...but thats just because I want everyone to feel the way I feel right now. I'm not talking religion here. Religion is man made. I am talking about faith. Faith in truth. Period. Don't project your bad memories or brother Joes hand on your ass on me. There are screwed up people in churches just like there are screwed up people in your family. People are imperfect. The truth is not. Faith remains pure. I happened to trip over this thing a second time and fell right into it. Free falling into faith....and loving it.

GO COWBOYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TAKING ACTION & LIVING OUT LOUD..........

Aug 23, 2005 3:45 PM

The words form themselves somewhere in the corridors of our mind. We hear them echo like whispers in a damp cave. Our thoughts. The things we want to say. Our heart beats sometimes throb in our ears. Our veins constrict sending the blood rushing to the nearest open chasm. Muscles tense. But we are paralized. Frozen. Conflicted by instinct and domestication. Constitution and institution. Resolution and revolution.

OK. What in the name of a monkeys bare butt am I talking about?

The little situations where we have been politically corrected out of doing what is correct. The sitiuations where polite, is not always right.

FOR EXAMPLE:

Cell phones at the gym: I do not want to hear someone talk on their cell phone to their bussiness partner in detail about last nights internet connection, while they slovenly flump around on the eliptical machine like a drunken ragdoll. Fragmented sentences. Out of breath. Flinging sweat peas on me.

SHUT UP! GO HOME! At least have the common decensy to go to a remote corner and expose your inability to "hook up" with a stranger. Enough already. I turned to the guy today and said "Your conversation is infringing on my mental state of well being, I am here to try alleviate stress and tension from my life while I have the free time to do so...WOULD YOU MIND PICKING UP THIS PERSONAL CONVERSATION WHEN YOU GET HOME!"

Now, there was an awkward pause as he stared at me trying to pretend like he was unsure wether or not I was talking to him in plain english at a heightened volume. Just to make things clear and assure myself I was not indeed talking to an actual adult retard who had escaped weaver school to run to the gym to get in some cardio....I nodded in exaggeration and said even louder ...."YES I AM TALKING TO YOU>>>THE PERSON I AM LOOKING AT WHO IS TWO FEET AWAY FROM ME CARRYING ON A CONVERSATION AS IF HE WERE IN HIS OWN LIVING ROOM AND NOT A PUBLIC WORKOUT FACILITY!" He then turns his head and gets very quiet on the phone and says to his buddy..." Uh, let me hit ya back, some guy here is getting all up in a bunch...you at the office?...ya...ya...I'll hit you back." I then took a beat and said "Thankyou". He did not respond audibly but instead flambled his way off the eliptical machine like a clown with his legs on backwards, all in a huff , bumbling and grumbling, as if I was the out of line person for calling him out on his rude behavior.

Here is the news folks. I am done with it. All of it. If you are doing something that hinders the progress of harmonious humanity I am gonna get in your grill. I am not picking fights here. Not being self righteous. But am hoping for righteous contagiousness. I am on a mission to start setting the records straight. One by one if I have to. And I encourage all who might read this to do the same. I am tired of letting "PC" rule me. All it does is give free liscence to people who are already swollen sphincters to begin with. The only ones who pay are the intelligent ones. It is time to start taking action and living out loud.

Dammit, every day I say thankyou to the guy at the seven/eleven. I even throw in a "have a good one" and he says......NOTHING. So finally I said to him " You know in America it is customary that when someone says thankyou, you should say your welcome. And if someone says Have a good one...its somewhat traditional to hit me back with a "you too'. We call this common courtesy and it is one of the backbones of the nation you have decided to move to and take advantage of. So just in case no-one had caught you up to speed on that...now you know" He along with the impatient customers behind me all bemoaned my lesson, but they can all "smell my gas" because ever since then that guy is as sweet as a bowl of georgia peaches to me and i am proud that I clued the guy into one of the finer aspects of being American. And helped the world in the process.

Headphones do not give you an excuse to do stupid things and then pretend that because you were listening to your headphones you are somehow not responsible for your stupidity. You are. I won't paint a picture here but allow you to insert whatever moron that has crossed your path.

I really could write a whole frappin' coffee book on all the things that people are now doing in this country that everybody just lets go. And we suck if we are either so lazy or too polite or PC or whaterthe schmeg you wanna call it
to do something.

Cutting in line. Going the wrong way in parking lots. Undertipping. Littering. Hassling waiters with customized orders. Not cleaning up after yourself in public restrooms. Farting in a grocery line. Not looking people in the eye when you adrress them. And on & on & on.

Its empowering. To correct is a good thing. It makes us all better.Try it. Just once. See an injustice and correct it. Stand up and hold people accountable for wrong doing. It will change you.

Have a day of epic proportion. This is my new saying. I thought of it today.

Jason.

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED.......

Aug 20, 2005 2:02 PM

The road less travelled. The very phrase challenges us. It calls out to us to assess how we decide to progress through life. We are all faced with the forks in the road constantly throughout our daily lives. Decaf or regular. Half-nhalf or skim. Sugar cereal or Kashi. Real eggs or eggwhites. Excercize or tomorrow. Cheeseburger or grilled chicken. Bun? Fries or salad. Balsamic or blue cheese. Church or sleep in. Learn something new, or do what we know. Follow the masses or follow our own instincts. It never ends. It is a like staring at a North Carolina sky on a clear night. Infinate.

Still, you have to decide. You have to look at the cards the dealer dealt you and you gotta play them. The cards make a difference, but the way you play them....matters more. This is how the idea of the road less traveled came to be. Making the most of the journey. But let us not go forth without stating the obvious truth.

FOLLOWING THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED IS A BITCH! ITS HARD! IT SUCKS! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Okay. Done complaining? Done crying? Feel better? Get anywhere? No. Of course not. Thats because bitching about your hand doesn't do anything except call attention to the fact that you got a bad deal. Which subsequently exposes your weaknesses to the competition. So now you have made playing your hand that much harder. It is amazing how difficult we choose to make our lives sometimes. Then, on top of it- we start blubbering to everyone how miserable it all is. And here is when it is very important to understand the road less travelled.

To get anywhere on the road less travelled you have to look deep inside of you and decide what kind of stuff you are made of. Its real.... am I a man or a mouse type stuff- except that I am serious. We laugh at these phrases because we fear answering them. That first choice is the domino that sets the whole possibility of your success or failure in motion. Do I want to stand up and fight? Or lay down and hide? That decision sets the tone for your life. Once that choice is made....here comes life with a bevy of tests. Now, if you choose to hide things seem real easy for awhile. Its like cheating in high school. "Working out is a waste of time!" "Life is short I don't have time". So you hang out in coffee shops, go to bars, concerts, experiment with drugs, eat fast food, spend money on crap you don't need, just having a real ball right? Then one day you wake up fat and broke. "Man my life sucks"! What happened? Chutes and ladders baby! Chutes and ladders.

Now listen, I am not spouting all this metaphoric hubba-ba-lub because I am some all knowing master of the catacombs of existance. Those of you who know me know that just an't so. But I say this as someone who has ridden a real good amount of demon drops into the abyss of self-loathing. I have stared at myself in the jaded house of mirrors more than once and cried out victum to anyone who would listen. And when I look back at all that time where I thought I was creating something interesting out of my self deprication, I realise that all I was really doing was wasting time. Mine and yours.

To walk the road less travelled you have to focus. Breathe. Stay in tune. Carry a machete. See scary things and accept them. See things you think are friendly and kill them. It is going to get bloody. There are traps and deception, and doubters. You will not see your progress day to day. Sometimes you will have to fight for days, weeks, months , years before you hit a clearing or a waterfall. You will feel hunger. Thirst. You will get to know lonliness on an intimate level. You will taste your tears. You will feel abandonment. Despair. But just when you think that it is all for not. When you have truly suffered (see the book of Job if you want to know what suffering is) You will come upon a campsite left by another soul warrior. There will be food, shelter, and candlelight. There will be water and wisdom. And you know enjoyement for what it is. A need deserved.

I've spent a majority of my life taking short cuts. I've learned the hard way that short cuts just keep dropping you back off at square one. And I am tired of square one. So, I'm gonna try this other way. Now, I can't make up for lost time because once time is passed its like an x-girlfriend......gone. But- I can make the most of my time left. And that will be spent getting back on the road.

You know the one.

WAITING IN THE WINGS FOR THE NEXT BIG THING

Aug 11, 2005 6:26 PM

Sometimes it is just unbearable. But I love it. It is the pungeant aroma of anticipation. It's like when you put way too much wasabi on a tasty sushi bite, there is that wisp of a moment where you are just hanging there in suspended animation waiting for the rush. You know its coming, you made it happen, but still there is no way to prepare for the blast. Yeah. I am living in that suspended animation right now. I have been throwing wasabi all over this god-forsaken town and sooner or later someone is gonna get hungry and take a bite. And BOOYA! How ya like me now?!

Oh man. I feel rejuvinated. A skin has been shed. I have reached a fresh layer. A new depth. A place of rebirth. My stars are in line. I am ripe for the picking. I got more buzz than a horsefly. I am cooler than ice and twice as nice, I feel famous. It is inconceivable!

Wow. That just had to be said.

Sometimes you just got to write it down. Take those swirly, contorted, passionate, inner blurbs that are writhing inside your core and vomit them out onto a blank palate and just look at them and say there it is...that is what was inside of me. Amazing. There are so many forms of expression that sometimes I am overwhelmed. Its like I want to paint a song.

Look, sometimes life sucks, and man, when it sucks... people can't complain enough! We will complain the same complaint to nine different people in consecutive phone calls. We'll complain ourselves into a depression or a drunken stupor. Why aren't we equally zealous about telling each other how fantastic the experience of life is when the little mistress decides to flash a little skin?! This isn't caffeine talking people, and NO I am not in love- (single and searching) Flab-nabbit! I'm talking about JOY! I feel.... JOYFUL. And although that is NOT a masculine thing to say, I don't give a hot Turkey Nut! I'll take the pepsi challenge with any guy who wants to count chest hairs....believe me!

Alright. There you have it. Today was a good day. Not because anything happened, but because God put me back into a position where I see the possibilities of something happening- if I stand up, make the right choices and apply the blessings he has bestowed upon me. I am walking across the sky through a huge cloud and in the distance I sense the rush of a mighty wind that is going to split this fog and give me a vision of clarity like I have never seen.....if I just stay the course.

Angels of the day: Nancy Wolfson, the dude in the caddy in front of me who gave me the thumbs up, Lee from Ballys, Paul Newman, Fred the antique furniture guy in my hood, my aunt terri, my grandmammy,my mom, and korrin's daughter nicole.

To all those who read these entries, and tag along with me on this convuluded passion slide...I sincerely thankyou. Jason.

THE TOUGHEST FIGHT FOR A FIGHTER IS NO FIGHT AT ALL.................

Jul 9, 2005 12:18 AM

Los Angeles. California. Hollywood. Big dreams, silver screens, and lots of nothing inbetween.

Persevere. Survive. Train. Let the fight come to you. Wait....wait....wait....

The inbetweens are the hardest part. When I was younger in the bussiness I used to wonder why famous actors who seemed to have it made would go down with drug and alcohol problems. Now I know. It's the inbetweens. The vast desert between creative adrenaline ponds. Ever wonder why some actors, when they make it big start making one movie after another even if the movies are total crap? They are trying to avoid the inbetweens.

My latest inbetween deal dealt me a rather slim hand. I suspect the shuffle was rigged. I am down to very few chips and I am pretty sure my competitors are holding much higher cards. So, I try to focus, rearrange the cards to see if there is some combination I am overlooking. At the same time I am trying not to let my heartbeat show. Concentrate. Reconfigure. Keep still. Stay the course. Steady. It's getting late. I am tired.

Percentages...odds...chances...luck. Place your bets! Roll the dice, son! Spin the wheel! Watch out for the glare of the neon lights, the hustlers, the cons, the preachers and the dealers. Everyone is on the take and the only truth you will find is hidden somewhere between twilight and moonlight.

I arrange my cards and carefully place my chips on the pile. I stare straight into existance. I no longer hold my gaze to any mortal man. Its beyond that. I am in this way too deep now. There is no turning back. Its just me and the dealer.....old Mr. Fate. I'm keeping him up late tonight. Pestering him with my persistance. I'm stubborn. Like my old man. A little bit crazy, and a little bit stubborn. It passes for genius at times. Sometimes it just breeds trouble. Either way, I will be the last person at the party once again.

WELL, YOU JUST NEVER KNOW......

Jun 25, 2005 6:46 PM

Two days ago I was on the brink of booking two major jobs that would have created a dramatic upward shift in my lifes work. And one by one, slowly mind you, over the course of three grueling days of anticipation, anxiety, the what-ifs, the what nots, the constant instant replay of my audition performances, the coulda-woulda-shouldas- the exposing myself to hope.

They both floated right on by. So close, yet so far away.

You gotta appreciate it. Its like big-game hunting. Your out in this crazy jungle, battling all sorts of elements and obstacles just to BE IN the jungle, and then on top of that you are chasing an invisible prey who exposes herself to you only to show you how close you got. As she slithers quickly away into another shadowed abyss. Begging you to keep chasing. Smiling and winking as if to say....maybe next time.....maybe next time....maybe next time.....

So you find a nearby tree stump to sit and reassess. You try to breathe deep to loosen your innards which have tied themselves into excrutiating knots in response to another missed opportunity. The expression on your face is one that has been dipped in novacaine. Placid. Still. Yet underneath your tear ducts swell, your heart beat thunders between your ears with the echoes of doubt and resentment. Your throat is clogged with a sudden traffic jam of emotional debris...anger....fear....hopelessness. You look down at your hands that are trying desparately to console one another by folding and contorting themselves into hands of prayer. Your legs feel unattatched. Hollow.
It is the overwhelming and massive descent into rejection. Utter loss. You have spent half your life chasing a UFO. An abberition. I won't lie to you people....it hurts. It hurts a real bad, intimate, deep down, feel the pain, kinda hurt. Whats worse, is that you can't thicken your skin to it in an attempt to prepare yourself for the next one. Its a catch twenty two. To be good at what I do I have to keep my instrument receptive ...sensitive...vulnerable, in order to ingest and create beleivable emotions through the characters I portray. You have to be always engaged at a very high level to the very whims and extremes of your emotional palate and remain completely naked to the elements of hope, hope, hope, which flutters all about you like a newborn butterfly. Its a really #%#$ up deal.

BUT- like any hunter. Hunger beckons. Need. Survial. Nobody is gonna catch your food for you out here. Your solo. Lone wolf baby. So, you do the only thing you can do in order to move on. You take it right on the chin. You sit down, feel the pain and you INVITE IT IN. Let it seep into and fill your every pore. Let it work its way through your flesh, into your bloodstream and eventually it finds its way to the bones and it settles in. Now, it is a part of you. It has become another layer of you. Added another dimension to who you are. Its another wound, another scar. Another paragraph of your personal history book. Its uncomfortable for sure. Like drinking mollasses. It makes you gag, it makes you nuasious, it drains you and shutters your existance.
But if you withstand the storm. Dig way down to that primal place that refuses to concede defeat. Hold fast to the love and support of the people who dare to fill your spiritual tank with encouragement. It passes. And you stand up stronger. Reborn with a deeper shade of soul. More articulately defined. Ready to commence once again in the battle for your life.

I stand. Take a long swig from my canteen. Feel the breeze across my stubbled cheeks. Look up at the approaching night and feel the surge of instinct. Check my supplies, reload my weapons, read my compass and take a step in what I HOPE will be the right direction. They say it an't over till the fat lady sings. I say its never over.....NEVER.

MAKING AN EFFORT TO DO NOTHING.......

May 24, 2005 11:07 AM

When you are born an actor, it is something you have no control over. Its like being born into wealth or poverty. Black, white, asian, latina. Gay or straight. Oh, you can fight it....you can put on masks and drive yourself blind trying to change others perceptions of what and who you are. But at night, when your empathy keeps searching on into the night for a situation of soulful contention, keeping you awake, tossing and turning, relentlessly in persuit of a reflection of the human condition that might help the world and its contents operate more positively. Or understand each other more deeply.

You know.

Underneath that elastic skin, chamelion soul, moody disposition, ghostly spirit, haunted eyes, overactive imagination, and your insatiable need to try and create something out of everything.

You are what you are. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.

People ask me a lot if I have a girlfriend. Why not? Are you dating? I try but it exhausts me. Its frivolous and chatty and as disconnected as apple is to gateway.

But I am in a love affair. An affair that has trancended all my relationships from family to fleeting romances, and friends. An affair that I lay down with and flail around with in my sweat soaked bedsheets, an affair that creeps into my distant thought caverns after I have passed out from utter drain, an affair that I talk out loud to in grocery stores and elevators. It does not border on obsession but rather is a not stop, freight full of coal, full steam ahead, free falling mac truck painted fire engine red.

Its why I am here. I am not fighting against it anymore. I'm done trying to Theorize it, compartmentalize it, rationalize it, ANYTHINGize it.

Winning or losing....? The odds are so stacked against me it is really quite humorous. But then, I have always been at my best in reaction to adversity of great difficulty. Its keeping track of sunglasses and keys that cause me serious "born loser" visions of doubt as to my competency as a homo sapien creature.

Lately people keep telling me I am trying to do too much. Or that I care too much. Its a really popular trend in philosophy. And I understand the theory but its application doesn't work for everyone. I LIKE to try. I LIKE to care. I LIKE being engaged in the fight. I go down swinging, I get back up swinging. Its a choice. Might be wrong....might be right. But unless the choice you have made has lead you to the perfect life you have envisioned all your life I tend to wanna tell you to stuff a sock in your pie hole and show me. Shut up for the love of God already and show me.

I've made an effort to do nothing....and I don't like it. So, I'm jumping up on this wild horse again with full knowledge that chances are I will wind up twisted into the dirt again, battered and bruised somewhere down the line. But maybe, just maybe, one day I will break this bucking stallion and ride off into the distant oasis of my endless fantasies. This IS who I am. I am an actor. This is my routine, its my affair. Fair enough?

STEADY.....STEADY......NOW......GO! GO! GO!!!!!

May 14, 2005 1:47 PM

Tonight I will walk out on a stage and perform three scenes in front of 100 strangers with a cast of pro's who have been doing this play for a month who don't know me at all. I will be "pretending" on a very focussed and intense level. I will be someone's fake husband with a fake wife with a fake baby on the way, I will have a fake sick father and be very fake happy and fake sad and fake mad and fake real.I'll do all of this with a fake accent. I will believe it all in the moment and I will imagine all sorts of visions as well as conjure up deep emotional responses from my own human experience. At the same time I will feel a surreal uneasiness about establishing myself within the context of the play pertaining to the writers intentions, the directors wishes, the casts approval and my own sense of professional self worth as well as the audiences entertainment. Tricky stuff. People in the crowd will laugh and feel their own emotional channels surfing around within their mind index landing on memories or vague recollections that connect them to the world we will create on a twelve by sixteen foot stage decorated with very fake things that look very real. Their hearts will beat tight with anxiety during moments of tension, their tear ducts will swell when they empythize with the situations the characters are precariously placed in, then they will feel the whoosh of exhilleration when they are released into a big old laugh of joy when they realize that the characters just might make it after all. Their energy will feed into our energy and vice versa. We will experience a cyclical stream of life interaction. A very intimate and fragile exploration of truth and emotion. The writer will bring us all to a conclusion that will engage our subconcious and allow us to dig deeper into ourselves, and others, searching for clues, answers and further inquiries. The audience will stand and clap as is the conditioned response and the players will bow and feel a wave of love that they so desperately need to justify their sacrifices. We will all begin to sift through our personal experience of the evenings event and begin to form opinions that we will undoubtedly test on others for their response and through that further define how we think, why we think it and perhaps come away with a little better understanding of who we are.
That my friends, is a challenge. Not to mention, just really #$@$#@ cool. And I have prepared for it. Yet each time I encounter the stage it comes to me with the excitement of a child who has just discovered the hidden cookies. Because, wether I like it or not, I am going to learn something tonight. I am going to engage in an experience with over a hundred strangers all searching for something...and were all going to find something. We might like it, we might not,it might take us a while to understand, but we will have shared the experience and it will then become a part of who we are for the rest of our time. Theatre is an awesome, awesome thing. It possesses a pure power and unlocks caverns that we dare not disturb on our own. And it happens out of thin air and disappears just the same. The experience that happens tonight will differ each night, each moment, each breath, each evening.Tonight WILL be a night like no other. Truly, unique. Not like a movie where its the same every time you watch it. And their will be no mistakes allowed. We will walk the tightrope- live. Succeed, or fail.

I love what I do. I just want to eat it. I want to make love to it. Breath it like my last breath. And I thank the Lord above for revealing it to me over and over and over how simply phenominal it is. And how much it has saved me. And that regardless of anyones perception of my "success".....I am a part of it. I fit in here. I have a voice. And it will be heard. Thankyou God. Time to rock!!!!

LIFE WATER RAPIDS...........

May 12, 2005 10:48 PM

I have been listening to David Gray all week. He puts me into a centered state of mind. One song in particular really gets into my flesh. Its called "My, oh, my. " The melody is very simple, repetitive and augmented. But the lyrics just shred me.

"My oh my ya know it just don't stop, cuz in my mind I want to tear it up, try to fight it, try to turn it off, but its not enough- It takes a lot a love, it takes a lotta love my friend, to keep your heart from freezing, and push onto the end,.,".,,,,,

A lot of love, indeed. This week I have kept myself very busy. In part because it helps me not sit down and get down about my grandpa and the fact that I feel so disconnected from my family. I have allowed memories to flow through me freely and where as apparently every one else in my family has drank quite a bit in their grief, I have kept my intake very low. I feel the need to stay very focussed right now. In fact, I feel the need to stay focussed from here on out. I got a part as an understudy at The Zephyr Theatre and I am going on Saturday night to fill in. I like being under the gun as many of you who read this may have gathered from One Million Butterflies. This is a pretty small role. Three scenes, but a nice little arc and the theatre company are very good people and artists. I also completed a mach voice over demo both with a commercial reel and an animation reel. I emailed it today in mp3 form to a voiceover agent that I want to work with very badly. I think that will be a very successful venture for both of us. I met with him and his assistant a week and a half ago and he asked me to put something together. I wrote all my own material for the animation reel and incorporated about fifteen different characters that I think would be very marketable for radio and CD Rom, interactive video, books on tape, industrials, ect.

I have been feeling very oddly positive. I am being really nice to everyone. Its like I am wearing a doily around my neck. I feel this perpetual grin kind of sticking to my face like dried egg. I think that it mostly has to do with that I am finally starting to see an outline to my future here in LA and it actually seems possible. Like this may be it. My home.You know, transition is not an easy thing. Well, its not a natural thing. Human beings are creatures of habit. Monkey see, monkey do, monkey keep doing. I have fought against that my whole life. Not because I like it, but because I refused to stop until I found where I really wanted to be. I tried to make NYC be that for me, but deep down I knew it might just be my pride that kept me in NY so long. Its the mecca of theatre and I very much had planned to acheive things differently there but the bussiness changed and it just worked out in a different way for me. "You can't always get whatcha want- but if ya try sometimes you just might find, you get whatcha need."So, I kept trying, and I am finding that I am getting what I need here. Things are goonna work out for me. As much as my NYC persona doesn't want to concede I have to say the idea of the wild west, the pioneers, the gold diggers, the purest dreamers in the world is a much more condusive fit to my overall look on life as opposed to the ambitious bussiness sophistications of NY. What can I say, I love them both. But this just feels really right.

Angels of the day: The guy who helped me at Kinkos, Franko at Pastina, Hector and Alberto as well. Light angel day but hey, you can't have it all!

THE FOUNDATION.......

May 8, 2005 10:22 PM

My grandpa passed away last night.

I wish I could write a memoir that would encompass all that grandpa was to each of us in our family but I can't. Mostly because our family is divided. Nobody wants to be wrong, so....were all wrong.

All I can do is write about the grandpa that I knew. A man I wished I had known better. A man who was gentle, and introspective. A man who was intelligent with a dry wit that could slice through the darkest nights. His physical stature was imposing. He was tall with a muscular build. When I was very young I remember him juggling his pec muscles from side to side much to my amazed amusement. I now do that same thing to kids and their eyes light up with fascination. Grandpa's eyes were set under relaxed eyelids that he often used to gaze down upon endless crosswords that he would finish with an elementary ease. I remember him in their old house, him leaning back in the black leather recliner, his thick black plastic framed reading glasses down on the bridge of his nose. His concentration was intense but fluid. He would field questions being hurled from the kitchen by grandma with a simple elegance as he scribbled down a ten letter word for remorse. "John! Do you want baked potatoe or mashed?" Grandma would zing from the kitchen while muti-tasking a four course meal, washing a sinkful of dishes and still playing peek-a-boo with me. After having heard the question that grandma had just asked him in full voiced lustre with a hint of exasperation, he would pause, swallow a burp and respond.."What's that Hi"? (A pet name I still to this day keep meaning to ask him about) Grandma, as if expecting to be asked to rephrase would shoot back, "Baked potatoe or mashed!" Followed by my mom reiterating (after hanging up the phone she swears she hates to talk on.).."Dad? Do you want baked potatoe or mashed?" Grandpa would sigh, scribble down "contrition" then repeat the question he had just been asked loud and clear three straight times back to them out loud with a slow and methodic rythem for confirmation.."Do I want a baked potatoe or mashed?" ....then there would be a long pause as he would get hooked in by a clue....a six letter word for cash...grandma furiously scrubbing a pot with an sos pad, mom curling her lips and looking through her purse for a scrap of paper that should have the phone number she is looking for on it...Grandpa would glance at me with a gentle but steady gaze for a second, as if the answer to the clue might appear on my face. A blink in his eyes signaled that he had rescued the answer from the swirling depths of his thought vault and he scribbles down "tender". Then, he would fold the crossword momentarily on his lap motion me to bring him the remote then ask "Hi, do we have any asparagus?" Grandma and mom responding in bewildered unison "asparagus?!' That was grandpa. One step ahead.

The popular family beleif is that Grandpa was the all knowing master of time space and dimension. And he pretty much was. Grandpa was without a doubt...."the man". He lead by example, and he rarely let his emotions get in the way. He did not "lose it" or "go bananas" like the rest of us in this family do with a sporadic regularity which I like to call "brain diarrhea". Even my brother who is probably the most stoic of my sibs drops his cookie sheet from time to time. But gramps rolled forward like the tanks he used to command in WW2. Slow, steady, systematic, and methodic. He was calculating but there was more. And this is perhaps is where my particular assessment of gramdpa diverts from others. See all of us have different relationships with each member of our family, we all have different perceptions and insights. And as I have learned from my acting career, people reveal themselves differently to different people, based on how they want that particular person to perceive them. The reason I am saying all this - is that grandpa revealed himself differently to each of us in little ways. To some he was the father, hard, strong willed and tough. To grandma he was the husband who provided and protected and loved her. To others he was "the sheperd", to some he was a beer swilling golf buddy. But me, Grandpa revealed himself to me as a very sweet, gentle, sometimes frightened kid who wanted to dance and play word games, and make up jokes. Life was just the time you had to fill until you found a punch line. Or...eat. He had opinions and enjoyed talking about movies and comedians. Not just the plots, but the craft as well. He listened, like, really listened and knew what was truly funny and what was gimmick. He was keen and sharp and had great appreciation for subtlety and nuancein all things. He knew how to debate as opposed to argue, and he knew when it was time tolet it go and move on. He had regrets about his relationship with his brother. He seldom spoke at great length but when he did it was passionate. And never was a man able to fish out a better bargain...or buffet. Every car grandpa ever bought is still running to this day. Million miles plus. I swear a family is in that old red camper right now driving to Disneyland. He was not an angry man that i knew. When he spoke to me about his past I always saw a sadness veiled deeply behind his eyes. A confusion and pain for things he couldn't find logical answers to. Especially pertaining to the war, or people dying, or cars my mom had bought. He was a good husband and father from my angle. He made mistakes but not the same mistakes. He was extremely generous. He loved dogs. He was not a religious man but he lived his life true to any authority. He beleived and respected the laws of the land, and the beleifs of others. During the thick of his life I do recall he rarely said I love you. This always perturbed me, because I knew he loved all of us."Action speaks louder than words". True enough, but this was not gramps' intention. He was very reluctant about emotion. Some choose to say this was by his choice. I would say it was his fear. This won't be popular among my family but I am not here to win popularity contests. We all have fears. Grandpa had a fear of his emotions so he disengaged from them and any words that might connect him to them. He had experienced death, and horrors close up, the likes of which nobody in our family ever has and probably ever will. This was the reason for his rather gray exterior when it came to God. He told me this several times when I asked, as a curious boy does about War, and God, and love. He didn't like to talk about love or God or jesus or miricles or divine interventions. They were the only topics that made the rock shift in a way that it might tumble. He tried to approach such matters with a scientific athearealism to remain consistant, but you could sense his discord on the subjects. But, he wasn't black and white about them. Never did I ever hear him say straight out- I DON"T BELEIVE IN GOD. He would ask for proof- listen, play advocate breifly, then dismiss the conversation in luei of some good soup of the day at Simons. He always left those issues hanging with a slight ambiguity which would reserve him an escape pod if he should choose to change his mind. And he did change his mind at the end. Well, not really. I think he always wanted to beleive, he just accepted it and confessed it at the end. And for that, Heaven just got a little sweeter.

That is how Grandpa reveled himself to me. But all of our experiences about Grandpa create the whole. Not just mine. They are all him. And in turn we are all responsible for his legacy, his memory, and his wishes.

There is a great division in our family as to how things should proceed now that he is gone. There are official papers and powers of attorney, laws and resentments. There are complications and miscommunications and tension and anger. There are opinions as to his state of mind, who, what, why, where,when, semantics, and sefishness. I certainly am NOT the authority on Grandpa. I knew him much less than others. But- as little as I actually knew my grandpa- the one thing I know apparently better than anyone in this world beyond a shadow of a doubt is this. He would want us to be together, eating a big-ass pot roast with gravy and salad smothered in blue cheese dressing. He would bow his head and close his eyes if we decided to pray out of respect for the choice if not his own deep down secret belief. He would want all this endless quibbling and pointless finger pointing to stop. He would want us to put away our arrogance and realise that what we said in the past doesn't matter, it is what we have, right here, and right now that counts. LIFE.

We are all going to take our final bow at the edge of this great stage one day and dissappear into the wings behind the big black curtain of the unknown. But until then we have the power to write this script however we want. We can include or exclude as many characters as we want. It can be a comedy or a tradgedy. Wether we like it or not, there are many chapters left to be wrtitten, and rewrites are part of the process. It can be a happy or a sad ending. God gave us each other. The choice is ours.

Grandpa, I love you, and I know you passed through me on your way out of this world last night. I will keep that peice of you with me and share it as you did.Without conditions. I know you heard me when I spoke and I know you want this family to be together so as to reflect the way you LIVED and expound upon what you gave freely to all of us. The foundation upon which we stand. Thankyou.

THE SEEDS ARE TAKING ROOT

May 4, 2005 4:32 PM

The last two years of my life prior to doing ONE MILLION BUTTERFLIES had been a sandstrom of flux, uncertainty, indecision and fear. I woke in the morning with dread in my heart, fully expecting the walls to cave in and just wondering when. I had started wandering down a long dark corridor of hopelessness allowing myself to think that failure was just something I should learn to accept and deal with. My most significant relationship had ended in a way I truly regret. My career was stuck in a holding pattern with nowhere to land, the fuel gauge reading empty. I began to look for ways to avoid people and focus on ways to hide as opposed to expose. I guess I felt if I just buried myself and let life pass me by maybe no one would notice. I was in NYC and was feeling isolated and desperate. I knew deep down inside I had reached a true emotional boiling point as I was destructing with careless abandon. I had no esteem, my confidance was as transparent as a reality show plot. I felt like a shadow, a walking imposter of the self I had imagined myself to become when I was a teenager. And one night I remember I had this dream. In the dream I was at a dark, gothic style cave bar. Like some secret den for deviants. I remember feeling nervous, anxious, and a bit out of place yet there was also a sense of familiarity. Like revisiting the house you used to live in when you were a kid. All the people were teens, dressed reminiscent of how I did at that age. Black upon black. Heavy dark eyeliner, lipstick, silver chains and crusifixes. The looks in their eyes spread a wide gaze of justified anger. Their body language exuded certainty. They had made an unpopular choice and were reveling in the challenge of anti-establishmentism. Music played and they danced with wild intensity. My anxiety turned to excitement. That feeling you get just before you kiss someone that you have have only kissed in your dreams. Those who were not dancing were lounged about in positions that radiated pure-unedited fearlessness. They were not seeking anyones approval. The opinions of others was inconsequential to them. Right or wrong- they were going to be who they wanted to be. Bold. Committed. Daring. I turned down a hallway that was shadowed with blacklights. The people in this hall looked at me with recognition. They knew me. And they respected me, but seemed curious as to what I was there for. They parted on either side of the hallway like moses parting the sea. As if saluting me I walked past them knowing I had some purpose to be there. Then, before me in a sky blue glow sat a figure in a throne. I could not yet make out his face but I knew the silohette. I approached and the face glared up at me with an expectant smile. It was me at about age 16. In my full non conformist glory of yesteryear. The king of the misfits. Before I had been domesticated, educated, coverted into a format that was palatable to the system. Before I had had to learn how to accomadate, become responsible, or at least pretend to be to make others comfortable. My younger self rose with animalistic instinct and ran a hand down my cheek. Then he motioned me to follow him. He took me just a few feet behind the throne and there was a door. He opened it and it was just a huge beam of white light. He started to walk for it and I yelled for him to stop, but he just walked right into it and disappeared. I slowly approached the light with blood-chilling fear. I felt tight. Like I could't move or breath or speak. Like I was actually becoming so frozen that I might shatter into tiny shards of ice. My heart was shaking. I stopped. Paralized. PARALIZED WITH FEAR. Then as swiftly as my younger self had evaporated into that blaring light he walked right back in. Looking at me with a look of empathy but disbeleif. "Are you coming?" he barked in a edged tone of ruefull encouragement. "Or are you just gonna give up?" I remember feeling challenged. And I liked it. "#%#$ 'em." he continued "You are allowed to do whatever you want" "Don't deal with them, let them deal with you. In the light, in the dark, we're still who we are. Masters of our own visions. Creators of our own world. Our own dream." "Play with those $@#@$@ as long as you want, I'll be here when you need me" (This of course is not verbatum diologue I am remembering from a two year old dream but that is the crux of what the dream meant to me when I woke.) It was very profound but disturbing to me because I didn't know how to make peace between my lightness and darkness. So I was always in inner turmoil and conflict. I had compartmentalized that kid that I was for so long. Disowned him. Abandoned him. Left him in a dark cave club of my past subconcious. But he is still there. That is still me. With the college degree, with the thespian credit, with the monogomous relationship. That little wild animal whose soul purpose was to devour life and all its pleasures is still me. And I need him to complete me. So for the last two years I have been searching in the storm to strike a balance. Find a place where Both that kid and I can hang out and both be relatively content. See, realiity and logic dictate that I have to maintain as an "ADULT". I have to pay rent, bills, park tix. I have to love my mom and do favors for friends and pull my end. But, there is still space for the wild animal. The visionary. I know I am meandering here a bit, but the point is, ONE MILLION BUTTERFLIES became the platform for me to marry these two very distinct personalities that make up who I am. I had to strike a deal between them or else continue to live in this one extreme or the other constant state of fear of failure. Be3cause you will always fail if you go too far to one side. Its a teeter totter. The only way to stay in balnce is to have one foot firmly and confidantly planted on both sides. . Because the teeter totter is one peice of wood. Its all you. Now that being said= I don't mean to lead you to think I have found the formula for eternal bliss. But that this journey has led me to the understanding of what I am trying to accomplish. I see the possibilities now. Applying them will take time, but at least now I have a direction. A goal in which to strive. And that my friends is the fuel of life. Mor to come..........my finger hurts.

THE SEEDS OF TRANSITION HAVE TAKEN ROOT

May 4, 2005 3:16 PM

SEEING IT THROUGH.....

Apr 25, 2005 11:32 AM

There is a time in every journey where gravity and logic attempt to sabotage your ability to complete the task. They discourage you with with cynical remarks and dissappoint you with small turn-outs. But unfortunately for both logic and gravity: they are dealing with a new and improved Jason Field who is NOT WILLING to relent.

When I was younger, I focused on cutting every corner possible. Shortcuts were a way of life. Why work hard when you can cheat and get the same result, right? Wrong. I didn't see that there is a very distinct difference. It is called integrity.

Words like Integrity get tossed around like biscuits on a sunday morning at Bob Evans these days. People describe themselves and others as having integrity as casually as describing their living rooms, with little regard as to what it actually means. I know I did, but after this experience I am being much more selective in what words I use to describe who, and when.

So many obstacles have cluttered the path of ONE MILLION BUTTERFLIES. I guess that it is appropriate- as the shows main character (Will,) whom I portray encounters several roadblocks of his own in many different forms along the way. And much like him, I have pressed on- inspired by some indefinable force from within that refuses to yeild despite Ford impassables, blaring sirens, and constant warnings & fluctuations. Searching desperately, by all means necassary, to find a destination that will set these haunting demons free. Digging far deeper than ever before into my core self, uncovering some very ugly and rotten debris along the way, in an attempt to reach the root of who I am. And how that relates to who I am going to be. (I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there are some really wonderful attributes about myself that I had forgotten about as well!)

Sounds real self involved I know, but I am now convinced that a little time of self involvement is a good thing. Its like spring cleaning, or organizing your mess closet. Its real easy to keep throwing junk on the pile in an attempt to forget about the junk you don't want to deal with. But I don't think one can ever start formulating true integrity until they stop one day and just call time-out and say- I gotta get some of this shit outta here. It stinks and I gotta deal with it-Right now.

I think a lot of people trick themselves into thinking that they are better people if they only focus on helping others. But in doing that they sometimes undermine their own potential. The individual gifts that God bestowed upon them. And in the big picture- if they spent a little time tuning up their own engines, they would be able to reach out a lot farther and be much more productive for themselves AND others.

All these thoughts are really starting to define themselves in the glow of the finish line that emminates just beyond this Sundays dawn. Its that short pit stop to quickly reflect on how far I've come, the pitfalls and windfalls, but also remind myself that there is still work to be done to make it across that line. So, this is my quick swig of cool water. The soaking sponge on the back of my neck.The gut check that tells my nerves and anxiety to step aside. Tighten the spark plugs, change the air filter, & top off the tank- because it is time for the final stretch, the sprint to the finish, the power push to see if indeed I have forged a cornerstone that may in time be the beginning of my own foundation of true personal integrity. This finish will mark the start of who I am going to be for the next round. TIME TO ROCK!

GIVING GOD A 3 DAY GRACE PERIOD>>>>>>

Apr 21, 2005 4:28 PM

I have struck up a new deal with the king of kings....the prince of peace......the head honcho....the big cheese.....the top dog.....the master of all time space and dimension (Mary anne?...Maryanne?-) That was for Lisa. Go on, laugh out loud. But, I digress.

I really have drawn up plans with ol' J.C. himself. And the deal is this. Whenever something happens that normally throws me into tsunanomic fits of skull-shattering rage- I stop and say to God, you got three days. Three days to expose to me why things have to go THIS way...and not MY WAY- RIGHT #$@$%@#% NOW!!!!!!!

See, I have to look at it like this. Things keep happening that piss me off, frustrate me, boggle and befuddle me. But then, within a couple two, three days, I look back and say...wow, thank God things played out THAT way, and not MY WAY. So inevitably I have to sheepishly kneel and once again tell God how right he is. If I were him I would have a HUUUUGe head by now, but he tends to just keep right on rolling on this same kinda consistant "Don't worry about it" kinda pace- which honestly..annoys me sometimes- but only because I wanna be like that. And I am so not. I am like a drunken tazmanian devil with terrets.

Last weekend I started off really discouraged, but I said....three days. And by the end of that three days I realized how valuable NOT having a big audience was last weekend. I really needed more time. In retrospect I see that I got three nice dress rehearsals, and also some extra tech time to tweak and polish little things that are very detailed but time consuming. Also got some great footage for the documentary. People always say it always works out. And I agree, but sometimes you just don't realize it at the time. Sometimes you gotta wait three days. Next, I want a convertable. But, I'm giving three months before I get pissed about that.

Handed out comps galore today at commercial auditions. God, there are so many beautiful girls around here. I'm starting to desensitize though. Hopefully some of those peeps will come. I have more I want to write particularly about this girl marci in my cadillac audition today that just gave me heart palpitations. But, I gotta take a power nap and get to the theatre. Hoping for some people. And whoever shows up is gonna get 100% uncut, ready to roll, not backing down, alll systems go- ME!. Ready or not, HERE I COME!!!

MOVING TO DEFCON 3-

Apr 17, 2005 10:34 PM

In my old skin, (the one I shed about six weeks ago) today would have been a setback of epic proportion. I would have thrown myself into a pedantic, self destructive rage and probably wound up in a drunken stupor feeling sorry for myself and wondering how I could possibly spend sixty dollars on beer. But that was the old me.

See, nobody came to the show today. NOBODY. Not one single person. None.

After, what I can honestly define as a superhuman, month long upstream swim- I truly had every right in the world to just sit down and cry today. I could have. Six weeks ago I would have. But people....that was yesterday...and I an't going back.

My crew showed up. They looked tired. I was tired. But, instead of flushing the day, I decided to take advantage of this seeming misfortune and turn it into opportunity. An extra day of rehearsal. To clean, polish, tweak and plant the seeds from which perfection grow. And much to my surprise the crew was right there going.."ya man, lets do this". Todd Lawson has stepped up to the plate for me here in the crunch and has become a very insightful guide to tying up some troublesome loose ends. He also helped train in the new light board operator whom I like very much. He is quick and confidant and seems to get the show. Daniel once again was there soaking up the creative atmoshere like the quicker picker upper he is. We pushed through a cue to cue. Switched the timing on some cues. Better coordinated others. We were focussed, efficient and productive. It felt like the infield of the 95 Indians. Airtight. Secure.

Then we filmed several close ups for the documentary. It was great to just get to stand up there and play. No pressure. Just sandbox time. Discovery. Now this week, I will focus on the next phase. Getting an audience. Ive only eight shows left, and Ill be dammed if I am going to give up at this point. Ive come too far. Im too close.

THE BEAUTIFUL STARS>>>>>>>>>>>>

Apr 17, 2005 2:18 AM

I woke this morning very tired. As if I had finally hit the ground after an epic free fall. My legs were heavy. My eyelids swollen. I felt like it was the morning after a fifteen round heavyweight fight. (That I had won by unanimous decision) See, losing was never an option. The Gods decreed my victory at the very beginning and although I walked through shadows of doubt along the way, deep down, in that place where I breed dreams I knew that I would not back down.It was just NOT an option. Accomplishing this project was a bit like stealing the crown jewels. Not because I want the crown jewels, but because I wanted to prove to myself that I could steal them. Its a bit of the old thief in me, but its true.
That being said, let me make perfectly clear that the goal is not yet completed. What I have done thus far is established possibility. Possibility is the foothold to success. However, there is still plenty of climbing to do. Last night I opened. It was far from glorious, but there was pride nonetheless. I had surfed a tidal wave and managed to make it to shore. Battered and bruised, but I made it.
As the day progressed today and my opening night hangover wore off. It dawned on me that I had survived the famine, and now it was time to feast. All the tasks, to do lists, budget considerations, negotiations, explanations, were now all bobbing in the wake of my theatrical speedboat. I was on the sandy beach and there was a pig roasting. And tonight, I set my sights to making sure that everyone got a piece of it.
I entered the theatre with a hidden excitement tonight. A subtle smile was permeated on my mouth. There was a sense of immortality. I was impervious to stress, panic or fear. I can handle anything that comes my way. BRING IT!
I invite the resistance. It only strengthens my resolve. Like adding weights to a dumbbell.

Crap.

More to say, but I must sleep. 2PM show tomorrow.
Met a sad, drunk girl tonight, who eventually wore me out with her negetive self destruction. I empythized for a while because I recognized her pain, like you recognize someone from high school that you never hung out with at an amusement park. You feel some strange obligation to say hello, but inside you keep asking yourself...why? I didn't like them then, and I really don't like them now.
She kept telling me how much smarter she was than the average person. And all I kept wanting to say to her was....shut the $#$@#$# up. But she was recently divorced and soaking her wounds in alcohol and it was really quite pathetic. I stole a fortune cookie from the waiter station and its contents could not have been a better cue for my departure. It read " THE STAR OF HAPPINESS SHINES UPON YOU TONIGHT". And it is. And she was standing in my starlight. I said my goodbyes and ran for the door.

Angels of the day: Daniel Galo, Todd Lawson, Aunt Terri, Seamus and adam. Miguel Valez, sean Greer, Chester sze, (students who came to the show) and Mickey Capitello who is still sitting beside me. The guy at Robeks who gave me a coupon.

AND THE SAINTS JUST KEEP ON MARCHING!

Apr 9, 2005 10:46 PM

When I woke up this morning, all I had was an empty theatre space, a set of keys and a vision. Now, I have 85% of the materials I need to actually construct that vision and the angels just keep on comin"! It would take too long to explain the unfolding of the series of small miracles that happened in the last twenty four hours. But somehow, someway, I knew it was going to work it it did. What I would more like to write about is "Gratitude". Today I have a feeling of gratitude that is almost overwhelming. Over the course of the last two weeks I have been receiving donations from family, friends, family friends and friends of family. I never in my wildest imagination thought I would get the amount of responses and support I have received, and they just keep coming. Many of the donations have been over the maximum amount I asked for. It's staggering. And around here, in town LA, land of the flakes-people are suddenly turning solid all around me. Friends who had faded away and I feared were lost into the abyss of "whatever happened to so n so's" showed up in digital color and stereo sound today with smiles that said "hey man, I gotcha.....don't sweat it". People I worked with briefly in the past calling in favors waaaay above and beyond the call of duty to help me try and pull of this theatrical triple-double. Its mind boggling. Absolute mind boggleazation. Utter bogglement. My mind is Begozzled. If you played the game boggle with my mind right now you would need like four hours to figure out one word......I"M TALKING BOGGLED! .......I digress....

I told my friend Todd Lawson today (who by the way is just a really great human) that I get nervous when people do really generous things for me. I really get jammed up inside like "danger...danger...danger Will Robinson" It's unsettling and I am looking deep inside trying to find the reasons. I'll let you know if I find anything.

Really, I've never been good at letting people love me. I want their love. Almost to the point of pathetic desperation. So badly so that I have trained myself for years to act indifferent in the face of affection. To deflect with witty banter or reparte as if to extinguish any possibility of true connection. Because with true connection comes responsibility. But it is also fear. When I meditate on some of the things people have done for me in a variety of different ways I often breakdown and cry. And today, I tried really hard to be blaze and say all the right, and appropriate things that people should say when someone else is going way out of their way to do something for them. But, really I just wanted to hug them and cry. Words just don't do it for me sometimes. They are not enough. I want new expresssions to be created. I'm tired. But I am tired with great, mind boggled, gratitude.

ANGELS OF THE DAY: Todd Lawson,( your indecisions always help me decide)
Seamus Dever (and his abuse of COA) Kim Crabtree who just rocks as much as she rolls. Jimmy Rizopulos (for raiding the compound) The mexican dude who told me and Todd to take as many tires as we wanted, The woman who appreciated me asking her if I could cut her off when the light turned green as opposed to just doing it on the corner of Olympic and LaCienega. My mom. My Grampa, and my Gramma. Bill from Grace models, Kristin Caruso, and Jodie who is going to document tech week. Now that is an army of saints!

MARCHING ON......

Apr 7, 2005 10:50 AM

After yesterdays profound realization and tears of epiphany. I actually felt a sense of relaxation for the first time in a long time. The antibiotics made me a bit nautious but I anticipated it. I even took a cat nap for twenty minutes. I hadnt napped in over a month which is a really long time for me because for those of you who know me. I'm a napper! I whistled through little loose ends that normally would drive me AWOL, with a feeling of lightness, perhaps even joy. I received a few emails of confirmation in response to yesterdays journal entry but none had more effect on me than an email I received from the mother of a girl I had met at a bar maybe two months ago, that I have scarcely seen since. Lani, your words were sincerely and genuinely appreciated. Thankyou for coming here, to my thought cavern, and joining the fight. I felt your spirit in that email, and it further strengthened my resolve. You are atop my "angels of the day"list.

So- in case you all are wondering. Yes, I do beleive the antibiotics are working. I woke this morning with a cautious suspicion. Waiting for my first hack attack, which has yet to come. I took a deep breath and my chest felt open. I do have "activity" but there is definate- and I may go so far as to say significant improvement. (Although I am reluctant to jinx myself by stating to much)

Last night, I put a flyer for the show in the elevator of my building. I had been debating about wether or not to do it for some time as I didn't know if people in the building would be offended by having to see my searching eyes every time they need to get to their apt. or car. Like those old Jesus oil paintings people used to hang over their mantles in living rooms in the midwest. His eyes boring into you wherever you go. "I'm watching you".."I see your sinful ways".... It always gave me the creeps. Needless to say, my fear of that painting has subsided and I wish I could find one to hang above my bed. OK. Maybe not my bed, but in the kitchen. It would help me remember to pray before I eat. A tradition I loved as a child but which no one seems to do much anymore. Which is odd to me because our food is riddled with chemicals and ecoli, and pissed off cows, and the whole mess but, like the threat of terrorism- most people just choose to ignore it and keep eating. ANYWAY- the point here was SUPPOSSED to be that, I finally said to heck with it and I taped up the flyer in the elevator figuring if someone is really disconcerted by it, they will just rip it down and I will take that as an answer to my inner debate on the subject. I figured my disgruntled roomie whom I served a string of explatives yesterday morning would probably light it on fire when she saw it, but instead, something much to my surprise happened. Somebody in my building saw the flyer, went onto my website and purchased tickets. Like within twenty minutes of me hanging the thing! Then somebody else! It was so refreshing and important for me to know that there ARE people out there who give a crap. Who still remember what it is to support a neighbor. Your fellow man. What's so funny about peace, love and understanding!?? Or maybe, they actually just enjoy live theater! Honestly, I have no idea what the reasons are, but it also helped to strengthen my resolve. I will have an audience. However small I am not concerned. The show will go on! Somebody will see it! They might not LIKE it- but they will get something filled with soul, passion and heart. And thats gotta be worth something still.....right?

Angels of the day so far: Lani McCormick, George (my downstairs neighbor) my mom and Kerrin for spending the day out in junkyards in the desert trying to find things that I have described to them from my wild imaginary visions. The people who discovered coffee. More later.....

THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING IN........

Apr 6, 2005 1:00 PM

Up @ 7:30am. Emails for an hour. Two of my interns have disappeared, Vanished. Phone disconnected. Emails undeliverable. The saints are marching in. My roommate whom I have never really been able to connect with informed me she is moving out which gives me the added task of finding a new roommate as I try to get this show up, or pay 1,500.oo come may first. The saints are marching in. We argued this morning over petty details and I blew up a bit, I think I am right, but I regret a few comments. But truly, she is a cheap, inconsiderate, and petty little worm of a person. I may actually hate her. THE saints are marching in. I made a Dr, Appointment. The only one I could get was in some shady medical hut in a very delapitated section of LA on the outskirts of the airport. Stuck in traffic 40 minutes, hacking up bile and refuge. Lines and visions spinning through my head. So much still to be done. Time sinking. No one to do it. THE SAINTS are marching in. Break through traffic. Dr's office. Fill out endless paper work- repeated info from every conceivable angle. Wait. Wait. No one else in the waiting room. Not a soul in sight. I wait almost 40 minutes. Lead to a room. Wait. Pulse. Wait. Weight. Wait. Finally, a Dr. He wants to talk more about my acting career than my health. I deflect. "Give me drugs" I say. The strongest, best you've got, NOW! (not really but thats what I was thinking) After endless blabber and chit chat he finally hands me what he says should do the trick. Free samples and a prescription on hold just in case. $50. I think he got more out of our appointment than I did. I leave. Gotta get gas. $2.59 a gallon. I'm near the airport. THE SAINTS ARE marching in. Hack back through traffic, fielding calls, setting appointments, invitations, get commitments on help. Bank. Line. 30 minutes to make a simple deposit. The girl of my dreams in the line of the grocery store wanders past on her cell phone with no regard to my existance en route to her BMW convertable. The pit in my stomach expands. I hear my heart throb in my head. THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING in. Home. Slam a turkey sausage stomboli from Trader Joes into the nuke cooker. Kneel down and pray at the foot of my bed with the Dr. medication in my hand. As if taking communion I pray a deep and concentrated, sincere and genuine heartfelt prayer for the Lord to let this antibiotic be the answer to my six weeks of misery and stress from less than my full health potential. I rise and stare at my desk area which is strewn with to do lists upon to do lists, catagories of to do lists, prioritized to do lists, to do lists for when other to do lists are "to done", reminders, phone numbers, unpaid parking tickets, notes to self, set lists, prop lists, receipts, my script-tattered and scribbled on, a baby buddha and a tin of carmex. I start to cry. Silently. Without emotion. Tears just fall.

Tears of joy. Because it hits me like an anvil pushed off a cliff. THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING IN. I have an army deployed in my service. The saints are marching in. Family, friends, friends families, aquintances, my employers, my co-workers, my students, the guy at the 7/11, the people I wait on. They are all in this fight with me. The saints are marching in. I feel them pushing this weight with me, the emails from my sister, the letters of encouragement pouring in, the checks of $support that say we beleive, the friends booking flights to come and see, the mother that puts up with my tyrannical pangs of anger, the phonecalls, the friends cashing in their favors at their jobs to help me out, the absolute surge of love and support that have created this wave upon which I surf. THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING IN. I think about the audacity I have at times to think that I am doing all this. When it is all of you, the saints, that give me the opportunity to dream. Which give me my hope. My life. THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING IN. And I will lead this charge. To the best of the abilities that God above has bestowed upon my little collection of molecules. And together, come victory or defeat, we will have fought this fight together. Listen...can you hear them? THE SAINTS ARE MARCHING IN...............

ANGELS OF THE DAY SO FAR: Lisa Rene Field, Imani FAITH Neville, Dr. Benjimin and the nurse who gave me a smile that said "you are a nice person", The lady who took my money at the gas station and laughed when she caught me talking to myself out loud as if to say "its OK". Ivan and Gayle EEppling, Dorothy Dennis Thankyou and all who have donated tickets- My mom who should probably just be dawned as the next pope, and my roomate mary, because even though I hate her I am so happy she is moving out.

FOLLOW THE LEADER....

Apr 4, 2005 9:48 AM

I am growing a calm. I have to. It is a divine messege. The way to best advance to the goals I seek is not through panic and superfluous energy expenditures. Methodic, systematic, calm, confidant execution will get me there with much more left in the tank and give me the best chance at kicking this infection on the way. Late last night starting having very painful coughing fits. Perhaps there is something in my room that is causing it. No time to dwell. Finalized audio clips last night and am going into the studio today to lay them down in sequence and burn them onto CD. It is the first real artistic committment in suppport of the show. I had originally intended to use my own music but the production value of my songs is just not there yet and I did not have the money or time to amp them up to par. So, I waited for a sign. A vision. An instinct to take shape. And it did. And when I heard the vision, I remember thinking...of course. Elementary. It clicked in perfectly. I cannot divulge the artist of the music I chose in case anyone reading this is coming to the show. Not that I really think many people will know the music but I want them to come into the theatre with a bank canvas. Not knowing what to expect. Still, you always second guess. It is part of the process. But at some point you say..."well, could I do it any other way that would be better than what I got in the time and budget allotted"? And in this case I must say "no". In fact, I think the music, the feel, the simplicity and elegant underspoken strength of the artist is the perfect compliment to the author's words and my directorial concept and hopefully performance. ANYWAY. Its what I'm doing!! More later....

GLORY GLORY HALLELUJAH!!!!! The recording studio went pretty derned well. I do beleive all my meticulous preperation and foresight served us well on that little venture. I am also really really fortunate once again to have a guy likr Lino Alessio on my team. He is a really passionate and focussed guy and he understands how to get things done. Efficiently but without cutting corners. It is all done with integrity. And I appreciate it. On top of all that, he gives me a price and accomplishes things in an amount of time that would be unheard of if I just wandered into some sound studio here in LA. He is on my angel of the day list. For sure! Got various other little things done. Tomorrow is big. Full day. Gotta rest. Gotta get better.

Sunday became its intended day of sloth...

Apr 3, 2005 11:57 PM

Well. At the last moment I remembered there was a later church service, and after a brief freakout session from losing my mail key right before my very eyes, I made it. Late, as usual, but I made it. Pastor Rick is truly blessed with an insight into the word of God. He makes you realize how tangible it is. He makes it all very logical and palatable and fun. Its not fire and brimstone, its like- hey, if your want your life to be better, heres how. Simply elegant.

The Ricks were there and they just make me feel like a lost puppy who has made its way back home every time. Bonnie made this home made meatloaf with veggies and potatoes and salad and I don't think I have had a home cooked meal in a real long time and it just made me so happpy I had to laugh out loud a couple times. When you train yourself to exist on cereal,coffee, canned soup, tuna, and Trader Joes ready prep micro meals for years, a homecooked meal makes a world of difference. Later we had homeade turkey vegtable soup and blueberry cobbler. They are angels. Still, they are governed by dogs. No one will get that line except me and Jessica;))

Inbetween we went to Barnes and Nobles and I spoke to strangers freely and wandered about drinking tea and dreaming about taking lavish trips to exotic lands. I would pick up items and study them curiously and then carelessly abandon them. I allowed my attention deficit out to play in full splendor never focussing on any one thing for longer than it wanted. I even managed to keep from thinking about the show for small intermittent amounts of time. It still crept in, but I was at peace about it. I ended up buying a book of American photography which I think will be helpful for some artistic visual stimulation in reference to the show, as well as a little wooden art model whom I have already grown a peculiar bond with.

OOoH I, OOoh I'm still ALIVE, YEAH, I OOH, Im STILL ALIVE!

Apr 2, 2005 9:51 AM

Saturday morning. Less than two weeks to opening. The visions rush into my head before I am even really awake. As I stumble to the bathroom seeking my morning relief, the days to do list is already being prioritized. Lines from the show start inadvertanly falling from my lips, and my actor brain leaps into action dissecting them. "What is the objective of that line?" "Why am I saying it?" "Am I hiding or exposing"? "I begin spinning each line, sometimes each word around in my head seeking the perfect inflection and then try to decipher why that is. This is before the coffee grounds ever hit the bottom of the filter folks.This is dangerously close to full-on obsession. And it is great. This show has become my girlfriend. My secret relationship. My hidden drug. I still have great doubts at times about how it will be recieved. There have been so many things like this that I have become so passionate about, and then I share it and everyone just looks at me baffled. "Thats what you have been doing?" "It's....interesting, I don't know, why would you do that?" Which actually is a good question. In the past I have done plays for various reasons. Certain aspects of characters or stories that I responded to. Interesting opportunities. Challenge. Mental gymnastics. Adventure. Fun.

And I have been blessed that with the exception of maybe two plays in my pretty comprehensive list of professional work, I was never doing it for the money.

But this one. This one is true. Sometimes you read something and it slips on you like a favorite jacket. The one you have bought all your clothes to match. The one you find excuses to wear because when you put it on you know on a very deep level that it is the truest reflection of who you really are. It comforts you, and excites you at the same time. Not everyone likes it, some even ridicule it, but you don't care because you know at the core of your being it is you. And it is good-even if it is flawed.

This play, its characters conflicts, its excavation and desperation for self definition is the most precise artistic reflection of where I am in my process of human growth as I have ever done. With all the shortcomings in tact.

I have no idea how it will look to others, how it will be received or if my conveyance will be worthy of its messege. But there is an inner force, and I am not a big "Karma" kinda dude spinning psuedo spiritual bullshit here. I am dead serious. There is a tangible, inner life force, a voice, a magnetic pull, a me that is trying to get out here. It won't rest until I give him birth. He keeps me up when I try to sleep and wakes me in the middle of the night, and again every half hour till I give in and rise, only to have my every thought and action consumed by him. It is both beautiful and tradgic. Like a passionate doomed relationship. That you harbour for you own selfish reasons but you know you have to let go. Set it free. And thus, set yourself free.

WOW> That is relatively heavy stuff for me this early on a saturday!!! TIME TO ROCK!!!!

Gemtleman...take your mark....get set...GO! GO! GO!

Apr 1, 2005 9:43 AM

Sleep disorders at times can be very useful. If you are really trying to get the most out of your day, you need to be awake, and that is what sleep disorders do. They make sure you are awake. And then even when you fall down in a pile of utter exhaustion, your sleep disorder will go into your brain and continue to imagine all the things you STILL have to do so that they are at the forefront of your mind. This way when you do eventually just pass into some weary dreamlike state, you dream about none other than what you need to do. Then your eyes open like three hours before your alarm (I might as well throw that thing in the trash) After a brief struggle where you try to get back to your dream world you realize-why dream??! I can just get up and make it a reality! And next thing you know the coffee is perkalating, cereal is being munched, the computer is booting up, you are scanning your list, and waiting for the sun to come up so you can start calling people.

I have decided to just enjoy this. Accept that I may never actually have non-drug induced sleep ever again. What once was just an over active imagination has now completely consumed me. I am a slave to it. My imagination is running rampant. I am holding conversations with myself out loud..in public. People look at me funny. I am digging a hole deeper and deeper into my own artistic cave. Creating a solitary existance. Which IS a part of my persona, it always has been, but I do like the company of people. Very much. Hmmm...perhaps I need a break. Brazil. I really, really, REALLY, want to go to BRAZIL!!! Vive la BRAZIL!

Don't worry folks. This is just me busting a mental Jackson Pollack onto the blank
canvas (screen) in front of me.

I know I can...I know I can...I know I can!!!!!

Fly..fly away.

Mar 31, 2005 11:51 AM

Sure would love to go to Brazil right now. Order a Pina Colada and dance till dawn. But Oh yeah! I got one million things to do! Woke this morning to six missed calls @ 8am! By the time I hacked through them and returned some emails it is almost noon. Website is done for the time being. In time I will change the cover page with moving images and more original music but I have to let it go for now. It is serving its purpose. Need to find a light board operator for the show. Not an easy task. Particularly on my budget. But it will happen. I know I have the ability to accomplish my definate purpose in life and when one makes a bold choice the universe will fall in line. Someone really smart said that stuff, and I choose to beleive it. I'll write more later but right now I feel a surge of creative juice rushing into my medula oblongata and I must capitolize. NEVER SURRENDER.

PS.Angels of the day who must be recognized: Lisa Field, Susan Rose Field, Kristin Caruso, and Kym Frazee. Your particular support in the last forty eight hours is the fuel in my tank. Thankyou.

More later...

Two full run throughs today..on the roof..in the sun. Endurance...endurance. Then made it to the gym for an intense hour and fifteen workout. Met a girl in rite aid that I should have asked out on a date, but I clammed up at the last moment. I just can't explain.
Feeling pretty frayed about how to keep the ball rolling. I can feel my mind and body just wanting a break. Just begging for a day off. But the end is no where in sight. Its real gut check time. I am starting to receive ticket donations. And I will be damned if I am going to let my friends and family support a half assed effort. This will be given every last drop of blood, sweat and soul until it goes up. Every waking moment is focused on doing everything within my power to make this show a success. Not just for me, but for those who love and continue to support me. No matter what happens I know I am blessed to be surrounded by such truly great people. I am richer than I give myself credit for. Thank you Lord.

Hell, I'd piss on a spark-plug if I thought it'd do any good!

Mar 30, 2005 10:01 AM

God Bless the makers of Nyquil. They were really comitted to the goal of making sure you can fall asleep in any condition. And stay asleep, for like nine hours! I needed it. Really back logged on the zzz's. So, back to the old drawing board. I am going to go get a work out in because I gotta increase my endurance by opening night. Otherwise there may have to be paramedics on site. My voice is slowly coming into place. About 80%. Chest cold seems to have subsided for the most part, I'll give that 78%. Still some slight congestion but nothing that should impede what I need to do.

More later....

HA! HA! Gotcha. I GOTCHA~! For once in my stinkin' life.I GOT YOU! I'll explain. I felt an itch on my upper lip this afternoon. I rearranged my jaw to scratch it with my bottom teeth when I felt the bump and realized what it was. A cold sore. I rarely get them except for times of extreme stress. Which of course is the time you are not thinking about the prevention of cold sores because your stressed out about something really important. Now, there is this stuff called abreva which is like $20.00 for a tube about the size of a pen cap. And if you have it right at the exact time you feel the very beginning of a cold sore- you can kill it before it becomes a week to ten day chancre crater hanging off your lip with people staring at you like you have leprocy. The thing is, these abreva tubes are so small, they are hard to keep track of. The manufacturers do it on purpose so that you lose it. That way every time you get one of these suckers you go buy a new $20.00 tube. But, today was my day, because I had just cleaned my car out the other day and found my abreva tube from my last stress orgasm. So today when I felt it, it was right there in front of me. I grabbed it and splattered it all over my lips. DIE! DIE! DIE! (those of you who do not suffer from these things can disregard this entry) GOT "EM. Here I sit, Six hours later and that thing is toast. No chance. Better luck next time...sucka.

Run through on the roof of my building this afternoon. Rough flight, lots of turbulence but made it through in one piece. Kinda. Went back and cleaned up some diologue doubts. Tonight have focused on transitions and character articulation. Making progress but certainly no time to be lully gagging. Two weeks from tomorrow night is preview. TWO WEEKS.

Keep on truckin'

Mar 28, 2005 12:35 PM

Dust everywhere. Like I have been shaking old basement rugs. Since I have never attempted wearing all these hats for a project I really have no idea if I am ahead of schedule or impossibly behind. So, the blind fear just keeps pushing me. Being organized with task type things is not a particular strong suit of mine so I have to focus extra hard. I will pat myself on the back though. I have accomplished everything I set out too so far. (with help of course) Still, things keep popping up. I feel like I am at bat in an epic battle with Pedro Martinez. I keep digging into the batters box dirt, spitting and adjusting my pants, staring into the face of my adversary with great intensity, fouling off pitch after pitch, refusing to relinquish. Sooner or later, I will find my pitch, and when I do...
WHACK! Good-bye Mr. Spaulding! Time 2 ROCK!

That night........

Established a rehearsal space. Met with lighting guy and discussed basic outline and concept of lighting plot. I am not sure how I knew Dimitrius was the right guy, but I knew he was. When I am living in the positive my instincts are borderline prophetic. And right now, I am pretty optimistic. Haggared, but optimistic. I had to take it easy tonight after running around all day. The bank, the theatre, commercial auditions, phone calls, faxes, and meetings. I left at noon and got home at 7pm. Spent the last four hours going through music cues and syncing up underscore ideas and diologue. Got musinex from the store as my chest cold came back today. I have had this for at least a month now. I just gotta get rid of it. So, tonight I take nyquil. I will sleep. Wake up at 8:30. I will be better. Out to Tarzana to meet with student interns and discuss their responsibilities. Then to Columbia to rehearse. FINALLY. I after two weeks packed solid, I can get in a room to do what I really wanna do. ACT. Peace-out.

EASTER....EXAUSTED.

Mar 27, 2005 8:58 AM

Happy Easter. As a child, Easter had a certain excitement to it. A new suit of clothes, everyone acting extra special. Pink and blue colored tissue confetti. Coloring eggs and the promise of Easter-egg hunts. Wicker baskets loaded with chocolates, and marshmellow chicks. After church brunch buffets where I could ingest as much bacon as my chubby little gut would hold. Only to find a few more chocolate balls in the bottom of my well excavated Easter basket.

Those were the days.

Now, it is pretty much just...GUILT.

If ever there was a day I needed to just stay in bed and rest. Just shut down all engines and be completely dormant in order to recharge for the onslaught of the coming weeks. Its TODAY. I have been sprinting a marathon. I am coughing again and fear that I have a respiratory infection. I have a sleeping disorder. I feel totally mentally depleted. But, it is Easter Sunday. The day of resurrection. And you gotta go to church. You just gotta. Otherwise tomorrow, or even later today the guilt will come creeping in like a cat from a rain storm. "Did you go to church?" Everyone will ask without fail for the next forty eight hours. As if they are suddenly keeping attendance. They could care less if the last time you went was this time last year. They won't be so inquisitive about my church habits again until say...Christmas. I will spend more time explaining why I didn't go over the next two days than if I just go today. My mother would burst into tears of sorrow if I skipped Easter. So, I go. I just do. And its hard to go on Easter cuz you already know the story. And it is a really brutal story. Its not like sitting around the campfire and hearing the three bears for the gazillionth time. No....it is PAIN.....MASS AMOUNTS OF PAIN...INJUSTICE....EMOTIONAL TORTURE....SACRIFICE....AND THEN....conjecture and interpretation. Don't get me wrong. I'm a beleiver. I am. But I gotta be honest and say that the resurrection sermon has always been my least favorite.Since childhood. Its just so hard core for a day that people insist on wearing pastels. The story and fashion of the day totally conflict. Now, I know, I know, I hear ya coming..."Easter is about the RESURECCTION, not the CRUSIFICTION. Yeah...OK. But that part of the sermon comes at the very end...like the last ten minutes after we've been imagining the most horrific death of all time for like forty five minutes. It just doesn't balance out for me. The resurrection comes too late in the story. Maybe I should get to the service late....:)

My legs ache. Happy Easter.

Gotta sleep, can't sleep, wake up late,......VICIOUS CYCLE!

Mar 26, 2005 11:16 AM

So, I get home from work early. Good. Not even 11pm. Still time to get stuff done. So, I get back to the music clips. Seeking, mixing matching,. Filling beats, buying time for transitions and underscoring at times to emphasize effect. There is a reason that 99% of productions hire someone to do this. It is painstakingly detailed. Down to the second. Then it has to be sequential and have an overall feeling of progress in the piece or your dead in the water. Music can put wind in the sails of your audience or drop an anchor on 'em. Tricky stuff. Then as I am knee deep focussing on this, Kevin (My web guy..AWESOME-email me 4 details) calls me at about 1am to do some implement some little changes on the site. Kevin is doing me a huge favor so we talk for an hour or so polishing and tweaking over the phone on the computer. Then, back to the music. Finish what I THINK is a pretty comprehensive and detailed soundtrack. Some tunes are going to need to have riffs looped to repeat in the studio so I hope Lino, (J WOLFE STUDIOS where I mixed the song on the Home pg.) can do it. But I know whoever I find to run sound for this show is going to have to have real talent. Someone who is willing to take the journey of the show each night. Because when I want something a certain way on stage I really need it to be THAT way, or it can really toss my balance. Then I turn to starting the lighting plot outline because I gotta meet with Dimitrius and get going on that. Uh, oh. Its 4;30 am. Suppossed to meet TODD Lawson for brunch at 11am to discuss set design. Gotta sleep...can't sleep....head whirling with images, music, lighting ideas, my class, my bank statements, x-girlfriends, pasta specials, parking tickets, taxes, childhood, bad judgements, the girl I saw at Ralphs the other night who was so hot it made me physically upset. RING. 10;30 am. I don't know if I actually slept or not. Its a blur. But no time to dwell. Call TODD, cancel. Again. Priorities. I can't move the set in till April 10 so I've got a little leeway time wise there. Lights gotta start getting set up now. Same with music, and there is still marketing stuff to be done. Tomorrow is easter. I must pray for strength and focus. Miracles must happen. They must and they will. Back to the tasks at hand. Man, I am tired. jpfstar...OUT.

The sprint to opening night is now in full swing...

Mar 25, 2005 3:12 PM

It really starts today. I have spent the last ten days doing nothing but prep for the show in the way of marketing, advertising, finding designers to work for as little as possible, getting a space, creating flyers and websites, and bussiness acounts and DBA's and blah, blah, blah. Tasking, an endless see of tasking. I was blessed with some great friends who rendered awesome help, but I swear for every windfall there was another parking ticket. Every time I thought I cut a corner to get a wee bit ahead on budget. WHACK! . But, no time to dwell. Send the check and move forward. Finally now with just over two weeks before I take the stage in front of what I hope is a sold out opening night, I can start setting my sights on the creative. Luckily, I am already off book for the 90 minute monologue marathon, but learning lines does not a show make. I have to start really digging in and finding variations and shades, colors and character articulation. Transitions are on a dime throughout this peice and it is an awkward, unatural thing. As I am self directing the show, I am also doing the musical direction, and set design. I have employed a couple of students from my class who said they were willing to intern to get involved. Todd LAwson will be helpful to me as well although he is in his own whirlwind right now and so I have to be careful not to lean on him to much. Jimmy offered help when it gets closer to game time which is generous considering he has a pregnant wife, just bought a new house and is running his own office. Kevin has been great on the site here but I still need a few tweaks. I hate having to take the time to go work at the restaurant tonight because I just want to rehearse and work this. Lighting plots and transitions. Music cues. THE WORK. Instead I goota go tell some old couple tonights specials. Don't get me wrong, I actually love my job there. Really. It is a cake walk for the cash I make and the place is great. Its a family. Anyway. I better get cracking. Peace.

Chasing the wind and she just keeps blowing..........

Mar 24, 2005 8:59 AM

I finally got a space. a little black box theatre with 16 lights, and a cd player. "Faith or fear" mom said. She was right. That really is the choice in life when you cut right to the quick of it. You can fool yourself into thinking that logic plays a part but as I look back at all my logical choices....the safe ones....the ones that were gauranteed....they never turned out the way I expecteded. So, you learn to say well, if I ultimately can't control the outcome, I would like to enjoy the journey. And from the moment I handed the deposit to THE COMPLEX, I have been feeling absolutely jazzed. Don't get me wrong, its not a bed of roses, but things seem to have a purpose now. I am back in the fight, with something to say and a clue as to how I want to say it. And the beauty of producing, directing, and basically doing everything on your own show...is challenging but really, really, exciting. Free falling baby. Tom Petty knew. Now, so do I. I am so fortunate to have some true, grounded, friends out here. People who not only are willing to help but understand how to get things done....now. I have had a lot of experience with people of good intention who try hard, mean well, but just have a hard time executing. Jessica rick is an angel and I am not afraid to print it in public record. She is just a phenom. She just does makes things go the right way with generosity, and kindness. Even when she wants to strangle me. And trust me, I am a person who can inspire one to want to strangle. Jimmy and Alexis are as solid as it comes when its crunch time and there is no substitute for friends like that. When what I beleive is art is on the line I really have no inhibitions about what I will do to get the job done the way I see it in my head. Visions man. I get visions. And if you are a person who gets visions you know what I mean. When you get one, you really can't move forward in life until you have realized that vision. Remember Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind? When Richard Dreyfuss and that woman, and all those people got the vision of the big mountain in the desert. And they all started just chucking their lives and interpersonal relationships out the window because they were obsessed with this need to create the mountain, see the mountain, climb the mountain BE THE MOUNTAIN. Thats where I am. ANd sometimes nobody else gets it, or sees it, but you just don't care. If they don't understand you just have to smile and say, "excuse me, I see you don't get it so would you please get out of my way". And of course as soon as you set your sights that specifically, and you guide your ship and set your sails and go full steam at it. All the suddden everyone and everything that could possibly deter you starts to try to cut in front of you. And they just stand there to become obstacles. Its amazing how tangible it is. But, it becomes part of the juice. Yesterdays barricades are todays accomplishments. And I pin them onto my lapel of inner pride. Yesterday, smug bank employees, a disgruntled meter-maid, the fragility of life and family, traffic, and yet another stained shirt all tried to knock me off balance. But today I wake and say, how ya like me now? As I glance back at them bobbing in the wake of my power boat. IS THAT ALL YOU GOT???!! BRING IT ON!!!! Remember Gary Sinise in Forrest Gump. Up in the crows nest on the bubba gump shrimp boat in that storm of fury. Thats me today. Laughing into the face of fury. Taking my fear and crumbling it into a wad of paper and shooting a half-court three at the buzzer to beat the 96' Bulls, and Micheal Jordan is looking at me going....."kids got game". Time to rock!

some days..........

Mar 24, 2005 1:21 AM

I am so tired and angry. I accomplished alot today including another sixty five dollar parking ticket which was unjustly written as I had another minute to move my car. She had that thing on my window before the violation occurred, and then tried to tell me it was five after. I asked to see her watch as mine which I set two minutes fast read exactly four pm. She said I didn't need to see her watch. So I used some expicatives and went and auditioned for applebees of all things. Talk about acting. I felt like going ballistic. Had a long chat with my sister. Laughed a lot and then always helps the sting. Hurt my voice cursing in the car though. *&##@##!!!%@%^@^^&#&#*((# PARKING!!!!!!!!! I just want to park! It is just entrapment. Absolute entrapment. Went to Jimmies and had dinner tonight and watched a little sports to try and forget about my long day in which I finally opened my bussiness account for LEFT FIELD PRODUCTIONS-which was a whole other saga of miserable stress. I produced over eight documents to citibank with whom I have held two accounts for almost ten years, and they still wanted more. More documents, more signatures, more money. Finally I said you know what? I am gonna go open this account at FREDS BANK. Screw all this hassle, jumping through hoops, doing loop da loops for you international conglammerate bung nuts. After spending over an hour filling out applications, signing docs, and watching her photocopy everthing but my behind, only to deny me the account- I went down the road and opened the darn thing in ten minutes at Downey Savings with no fees, no minimum balance and no hassle. What in the hell is going on? I mean....really. I should very much like to rule the world one day soon so that I could change it. But for now, I guess I should just get some rest and get back at it tomorrow. Signing off...........

LET THE GAMES.......continued

Mar 22, 2005 11:32 PM

Its amazing. Yesterday I shot a commercial for ALLTELL or ALLTECH one or the other. I should remember since I had to say it probably 100 times but I am so tired that I feel like someone slipped me a mickey. I love that phrase. Who came up with that? And who is this.....Mickey??

After the commercial I taught class. I was a bit edgy but honestly felt totally justified in reamingn them a bit. I wish I had more time with them, because I am actually quite sure they could use A LOT more preperation if they are going to have a stones throw of scratching the surface of an actual career out here.

After class I went completely against my better judgement and accepted an invitation to go have drinks with some students. I wound up drinking a good part of a bottle of Johnny Red and leaving my bag behind. Which then drunkenly compelled me to scale the walls of a secured building to get it back at five in the morning. I then drove home paranoid. Hugging the slow lane at 60 mph telling myself it was the right thing to do. And it was. These guys are pure heart and soul. Young, ambitious, and don't give a fuck. Like me, so of course....I think ther're cool.

I am starting to consider a russian mail order bride. You can't throw a rock and miss hitting a attractive woman out here, but find me one with a brain, no complicated issues or man hang-ups, a sense of humor, who has style, grace, and knows how to be a lady and a hellcat and looks good in jeans without make-up and then we'll talk. And when I DO bump into girls who possess this rather extensive idea of what I want, I either try too hard, or play it so cool they don't even notice. See, out here, if you see something that fits the idea of what you want, you have to move fast. Assess the situation and gather as much information based on all factors of your criteria without seeming like your trying to gather information. I mean if you just look at a girls ass and say, wow, shes hot and go ask her out. I think its really just an insult. It means, I really wanna have sex with you so I am willing to get to know you so that I can do this. I am in a place where I would like to meet somebody that I actually enjoy being with on the way to getting to the sex. But in order to know that I have to probe, and that can be death cuz women smell you from a mile away. Like a cat before it rains. They start looking around for some way to avoid it. Or they play aloof which is just enough to make me wanna just go totally dahmer. Whatever. Its hard being single in a town like this, and maintain any real standard of women. Unless your rich and have all the chips. I am hanging on financially and my chips are a bit stale. Of course, its hard to be in a relationship as well, and Lord knows I have been just as frustrated in those as I am alone. What a jip. I know I am really bashing myself right now because I love digging the hole. And as soon as I have a date with a girl who actually has her feet on the ground-and I get anywhere further than...."I had a nice time" I will of course write a long entry on how grand and wonderful love really is. Again. I am scamming myself. What a jip.

Journal entries

DRIVEN.....