The Official Site of Jason Paul Field

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.

GIVING PROPS.....

Jan 4, 2008 3:11 PM

Rarely do I praise other poets, mostly because I suppose I feel that I am a poetic soul so I either adopt it or get jealous of others who exhibit poetic prowess.

But this song tore into me today and brought me such a valuable message that I feel compelled to share it with any lonely soul that might be searching for a resolve that lies in hope.

I personally thank you SEAL for writing this song and singing it with such careful abandon and inspired spirit.

LOVES DIVINE...........by seal (from SEAL IV)

Then the rainstorm came over me
and I felt my spirit break
I had lost all of my belief, you see
and realized my mistake
But time through a prayer to me
And all around me became still

I need love
Loves divine
Please forgive me now I see that I've been blind
Give me love, love is what I need to help me know my name

Through the rainstorm came sanctuary
And I felt my spirit fly
I had found all of my reality
I realize what it takes

Cause I need love
Loves divine
Please forgive me now I see that I've been blind
Give me love, love is what I need to help me know my name

Oh...don't bet (don't bend), don't break (don't break)
Show me how to live and promise me you won't forsake
'Cause love can help me know my name

Well I try to say there's nothing wrong
But inside I felt me lying all along
But the message here was plain to see
Believe me

'Cause I need love.
Loves divine
Please forgive me now I see that I've been blind
Give me love, love is what I need to help me know my name

Love can help me know my name.

Serious dope right there. Far stronger than any I have ever put into my system in the past.

Well said my man. I couldn't say it better myself.

Well, at least not yet:)

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.

GOOD JOB JASON PAUL FIELD............

Jul 15, 2006 12:46 AM

I am writing this journal entry to myself. However, as always I will share it with you.

Good job, Jason.

I just passed over one year of sobriety. I had a small gathering tonight and I really felt a feeling of elevation. Like all things ARE possible. Like I am moving in the right direction and there is a wind at my back that is encouraging me to push onward.

I know not the destination, but I do know its destiny.

Regardless of where this road will eventually land me, wether I will ever drink again or not I can't honestly say. I just know that I didn't drink today.....and have no immediate plans to make time for it tomorrow.

But I guess what is so nice about accomplishing this mild benchmark is that no one can take it away from me. It's now a part of my history, my story, and I think it has been a rather enlightening chapter in this boys life.

Certainly in the big scheme of things this is no big whoop. But, then again, I am not going to belittle it either because it has really changed my life and for the way better.

I have navigated out of very turbulent waters into a clearing of calm waters where the sun is shining and I like it. I am as close to being "happy" as I can remember in my adult life.

So, there must be something in it. Underneath all the bullshit.

One simple thing.

You keep on....you keep pushing for change, progress, application.

Pardon me for being sincere for a moment but...

I'm really glad I saw that.

I say "Be well" all the time to people. Its a command- not a wish. Its there for the taking. If you want it bad enough you can have it. Just choose to be well.

I did.

:)

Goodnight lovers.

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!

Journal entries

TESTING.....TESTING.....TESTING

WHOOOOOOOOOSH! AND AWAY WE GO!!!!!!!!!