Friday, December 28, 2012

Dreams from Taipei

                                        

                     Photo : "Typhoon Sunset" taken from rooftop in Taipei, Rudy Randa




What we experience in dreams -- assuming that we experience it often -- belongs in the end just as much to the over-all economy of our soul as anything experienced "actually": we are richer or poorer on account of it.
-        Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil



Sunshine was fast asleep.
                       Curled up on a lambskin rug with a light satin sheet barely covering her.                       
 She exuded peace, innocence, vulnerability, light and beauty.

Even though sunshine slept, and slept deeply, sunshine still shone bright bright bright- a luminous mass in the darkest of nights.

I go to sleep in the confines of the rays.

They are warm, and feel good.

I am exhausted.

I close my eyes and exhale a great breath of relief, comfort and satisfaction.

I hear them coming before I see them.

I know what they are.

                                                                      God Damn it.

                                                     I will not get any sleep tonight.

             I leap up and grab my sword.
                                                            It weighs a ton.
                                                                                      I see them.

Demons of the night.                            The dark side.                                    The vultures. 

Evil multiplied by Evil infinity personified in the form of winged beasts, with the heads of horses, arms of men, legs of steel. And black nothingness eyes.

They have come to prey on sunshine. The dark, attacking light at its most vulnerable point, attempting to push it out, the darkness attempts to reign the dreamscape land.

Not on my watch.

They abound and buzz around circling. Chanting. They are hungry.

I get into my stance.

                                                    I have no fear.

I have slain thousands like this before.

My blade slices through the first demons head like soft butter. I begin jumping around, twirling, martial arts-ing in a manner that would make Neo from The Matrix Films dizzy.

                                                               Neo was a phony.

Demons do not leave corpses. Once eviscerated, they scream a tortuous scream and fall to dust, damned back to eternal hell.

I know the body count is rising.
                                                     How many more ?

Sunshine sleeps. 
                       Still she sleeps, unawares of the peril so close.
                                            She sleeps. 
                                                               But she shines. 

It gives me energy to fight more. Fight Longer. Fight until there is nothing left.

I wake up in a seizure of deep breaths and am sweating profusely. I look over and sunshine still sleeps.   

Peacefully. 
Unaware. 
Vulnerable. 
OK.
                I sit upright.

The intensity and lucidity of the dream had me rattled. 

Am I dreaming? 
Am I awake?
What is going on?

I glance around the room and it is safe. I can go back to sleep. 
                                                                                                    Everything is OK.

I close my eyes and hear a familiar buzzing.

I sigh.



I am St Michael the Arch Angel, and I will not be getting any sleep tonight.



That one stuck with me for its sheer intensity. Are dreams real? Are they an alternate reality? Are our dreams real life and our waking moments our dream life? Does how we dream affect the rest of our waking moments, or does how our waking moments unfold affect how we dream? Which is more real?  It is a very open question, one that I do not begin to untangle in this blog post. But I will say this- Too often I have fallen asleep to music, tv, films, or cloudy headed, which I believe doesn’t always allow for the most lucid dreaming, and i have begun to eschew going to bed with such distractions, so that I can dream 'free range' and more lucidly.  This dream I recounted above is noted for its absolute vivid HD clarity, and for the utter confusion it caused me in deciphering which was the waking reality. I love dreaming (most of the time- I have experienced sleep paralysis and nightmares before, and those are not all together fun) and will continue to attempt to recount and remember dreams I have had. Enjoy all! Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, Happy Hanukah and Happy New Year!

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

GUNS and LOVE


                                       Photo: "Dread or Alive" by Rudy Randa


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First I would like to extend my heartfelt sorrow at not only the people who passed in the recent tragedy in CT, but also the people who are victims of gun violence everyday all over the world, whether in the projects of Chicago, a child of war in Darfur, or soldier in Iraq, death by a bullet is always unjust and inhumane. I intend for strength and light and Blessings to all victims and their families during this tumultuous time.


OK. Since I am not connected to Facebook anymore I didn’t have to sift through the reactionary haphazard call to arms of everyone who was horrified by the tragedy in Connecticut, but that doesn’t mean I am blissfully unaware of the diatribe that is filling your newsfeed. I can imagine it now :

“ban guns!  look at the statistics, we need more gun control laws”

then the other side

“we have the right to bear arms, you can pry my gun from my cold dead body”


Then people start in with their statistics. OH MY, statistics! So malleable, so easily deceiving these statistics that people love to shove down others throats.

Here is a statistic for you :

People who own guns are more likely to be victim of gun violence than people who do not own guns.

I have another :

The majority of forest fires take place in forests.

Meh to statistics. I go by my intuition on this one, and although I get a some sort of kick out of shooting a handgun or rifle for target practice, I have never felt aligned with any type of higher purpose or sensation with a loaded gun in my hand. It is an instrument of death, and I have never felt like it was good, or right.

WHY?

For starters because I can feel the intentions for which this instrument was born. And probing deeper, I know what I would do with it. I would kill if need be. Don’t get it twisted. I do not fear guns, nor am I entirely estranged from them. Should I feel the need to defend my family, or myself I wouldn’t hesitate to cut the head of my enemy. However, I would much prefer not to be put in the situation where I have to choose to kill or maim.

 Gandhi once said

“It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence”.

Lord knows I am not impotent; so don’t mistake my sentiments towards guns as weakness, for it is not. It is a knowing inside me, that these instruments do not lead to a path of happiness, of love, of true power or positive fulfillment. So then what is the answer in the wake of such recent public tragedy? Ban guns ?

If we ban guns, then they will go the way of the black market, and just like drugs and our attempt at alcohol prohibition, we will put all the guns in the hands of the police and the crooks. No. No. NO. I’m not comfortable with that idea. Think about it.

If we eventually eliminated all the  ‘crooks’ and only the police and military had guns, how would that make you feel?

                                                       I’m guessing that feeling we would collectively have is the cloak of impotence ole Gandhi was yammering about.

Guns and Ammo are a massive commanding industry, and like tobacco, fast food, prescription pills and other fellow merchants of death, they have an incredibly strong lobby presence in Washington, DC.  A triumph against such a formidable Goliath would be astounding. Lets say we the people get what we desire, and it is law that in order to purchase a hand gun or hunting rifle (lets presume we have a federal ban on assault weapons-that one should be a NO-BRAINER) you must prove through sophisticated and comprehensive verification processes that you aren’t psychotic and are not prone to criminal activity.

So then what?

Perhaps you are a mom who collects guns, living in Connecticut, and you purchase all your firearms legally and use them responsibly. However, your deranged son steals them from you and kills you and 26 innocent others, among them 20 beautiful helpless children.  Yeah, I don’t think that is fool proof either.

You, like me, have got to be appalled at the recent violence in Connecticut, just like we were when James Holmes shot up a Colorado movie theatre dressed like the joker, but are you shocked when this happens anymore?  I am not, and I haven’t been since 1999 when the Columbine massacre occurred. This is our collective fault. There are no laws that will have prevented this and there are no laws that will stop this from occurring again in the future. This is our sickness that we have developed as humans in American society.   We live in an age where the majority of 15-40 year old men, stand up and shout “oh that’s so GANGSTER” during the scene where Al Pacino murders the police captain in the Godfather trilogy. This is their reaction, and it is said with a longing idolizing pride, yet they are too fucking stupid to realize that this is where Michael Corleone signed his own death warrant. It’s a pivotal moment where his life becomes forever unfulfilled and the message is simply lost on so many of our generations.  This example may seem insignificant, but to me, it is telling in measuring the pulse of our nation and our sentiments towards violence.
We are a violent nation that was born of rebellion and bloodshed,
but that does not doom us to a cruel blood-spattered fate. There needs to be change from within.

The people will demand a change in the laws, and the slippery politicians will jump at a chance to join this sympathetic cause in an attempt to look like a champion of good will, but the savvy knew this ploy to garner votes would play out before this particular tragedy occurred – it’s just how our present political system works. Guileless talking heads and magazines will abound with details about the catastrophe. People will build careers and feed bank accounts off of this, so is their outrage genuine or self-serving?
We need to give pause and be measured in our response. A reactionary society literally invites, No, overzealously BEGS for a change, when they aren’t even sure what the right answer is.

Marcel Proust once stated :

“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last”


There is a term for this, appropriately called “extinct by instinct”.  Which is exactly what it means: making a fatal decision based on an emotional gut reaction. I caution everyone in getting caught up in this.

Besides reforming the laws pertaining to one industry of death (guns and ammo), the people are in the streets clamoring for better mental health care. Better mental health care? Like what? More Prozac? The last 5 mass murderers have all been prescribed psychotropic drugs. Perhaps it is these drugs that help trigger the killing sprees?  I cannot say for certain either way, but here is my intuition on most prescription pills  : they are bad bad BAD and 95% of the people prescribed them don’t need them. You do not need a pill to escape the shackles of the mind. Please believe that. Regardless some type of reform for mental health care will also come, no doubt in a haphazard and misguided form.

But lets just pretend that we the people get all the gun control and health care laws we desire passed. Does this prevent mass murderers from existing?

Laws do not erase the tyranny in the hearts of evil men. Evil does not abide by laws. Should the next mass murderer not have guns available to him, he will simply build a bomb, commit arson, use a knife, etc etc. You might feel safer with better laws passed, and while I agree that gun control reform will slightly improve the situation, it will not solve it, and malevolent mass murderers will still have their way. Innocent children will still be butchered. I lived in Chicago for over 5 years, not far from some notorious projects. The city of Chicago has a ban on guns. Can someone tell me how that is working out for them? The blood in the streets is literally up to the peoples’ knees and rising fast, and faster.

So are we doomed? Are we a society that will continue to eat its own, until there is just nothing left?

NO.

I have an answer.

A lot of you will probably laugh.

You may dismiss it as the hazy notion of a liberal out of touch hippie (I am none of these things, although I do LOVE the Grateful Dead and have a certain affinity for hippie music).

It is so simple.

It has never been tried before.

It is just

                 LOVE.

And I am not talking about romantic love.

I am not speaking about Valentine’s Day.

I do not prattle on about this emotional gooey stuff.

I’m talking about compassion and tough love, a love that begins by honoring oneself, and our own lives. A demanding love, that once is in place in the individual, will have no choice but to spread to others. It will be contagious, like a brush fire in the thirsty Sonoran desert.  I believe the term is ‘unconditional love’. Yes, Love is the answer.

Poo-Pooing Me? Easier said than done?

I don’t believe we as a society have ever tried it. Not really.

“Faith is taking the first step, even when you can’t even see the staircase”
 Dr. Martin Luther King.


We are all capable of love. Love doesn’t need fancy expensive educational systems. Love doesn’t need free health care. Love doesn’t need a car to get around or a house to live in. Love doesn’t discriminate from 1st world to 3rd world, from race to sexuality, religion or age.

I can’t help but think that people who use guns as intimidation or a means to kill or maim do so because they feel no power within themselves. From loving yourself, from honoring yourself comes that feeling of empowerment that pulsates through your body, a much more authentic and positive feeling than any gun can give.
We live in a society that dismisses love as soft. A society in which women have eschewed the powerful and necessary feminine energy because we are obsessed with the dominant controlling male energy. Where compassion in a male might be viewed as weak. Where we become more and more detached from reality and humanity and live in 3d violence on the silver screen. No doubt many of you have life like torture and killing in your HOMES in the form of violent video games. And yet, when a lonely unloved troubled youth kills 20 children, we act as if we are surprised that it occurred.

So love. Love yourself and all your imperfections. Do things that make you feel enriched and warm and full inside. Give for yourself and give of yourself. Don’t be a slave to the mind and the million tricks it plays upon you. Love unconditionally. Love proudly. Love loudly. Build Strong communities that nurture and look out for one another. If the majority of citizens of the United States did this, and did this honestly and purely, I don’t think we would need gun control reform. We would have collectively and institutionally changed.


“Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love”  

-The Late Ever Great, Forever missed, but NEVER forgotten Dr. Martin Luther King JR


PS. You are a coward and a cheater if you think you need an assault rifle to hunt. I don’t care if you are hunting BigFoot.  You are basically the Alex Rodriguez of hunting. Muster whatever testicular fortitude you have and hunt like a man is supposed to – with a bow and arrow, cross bow or spear. The hunt will be ever more satisfying, I guarantee it.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Dreams from Kenting, Taiwan



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 I had this dream during my travels in Kenting, Taiwan. It stuck with me because its meaning and lesson were as apparent and valid as anything. Photo: Rudy Randa Guanshen Sunset near Kenting, Taiwan.

I was with my brother, and we were in a non-descript urban area. We parked our car and got out, walking to some unknown destination that was a short jaunt away.  All of a sudden, a car whizzed by, but as I watched it time froze and was then moving as if barely thawed. Angry faces and gunshots rang out.

 Are they aiming at us?

 For what?

 I was not hit but I look to my brother, and he had been shot in the arm and in the side. He wasn’t bleeding profusely and he said he was OK. But seriously, he was still shot, TWICE. I put him in the car and stepped on the gas to head to a hospital .

 Manic driving from a madman, running red lights, passing cars, going into oncoming traffic and driving fast, 

                                                                         incredibly fast. 

I look over to my brother. He is conscious and as insane as my driving is, coupled with being shot twice,  is as cool as the aforementioned frozen time. A motorbike cop and a squad car took notice and started in pursuit. I ignored them and kept driving, causing accidents in my wake. We arrive at the hospital and my brother is hanging in there. He is hanging in there but he is starting to lose consciousness.

Hold on dear brother, hold on.

The cops see him bleeding and back off as I scream at them that my brother has been randomly shot and that he needs medical attention. I take him into the emergency room, and the nurse looks at my brother and looks at me, and says that I need to fill out the paperwork before they can admit him.
FINE! FINE! Give me the form so he can be attended to and saved! She turns around and grabs a stack of papers that seemed to be one foot high.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

This is NONSENSE!!!

JUST GET TO WORK!

I’m sorry she says and looks coldly into my eyes. She is fortunate there was a plexi-glass window between us, as I felt  like grabbing this cold hearted nurse and choking her until she was blue.  AHHHH! Frustrated I grab the stack of papers. If I work diligently, if I concentrate, I can get this done in time. 

I wake up.  

Whoa. That one seemed so really real. But what does it mean?

I have to write and write a lot to save his life.

Dreams are often open to much interpretation, but this one was clear to me. If someone is your brother, than you are one and the same with him-A reflection of each other. I am my brother. He is me. I need to write to save my own life, and it was true. At the time of this dream I needed to write more, and I am and will continue to do so!

Friday, November 30, 2012

Hung Zhu, The Red Piggy






Inspired by my time in Taiwan, and coupled with my utter disdain for spending time in the plastic mobile coffins, I have decided to get a scooter here in LA. Yes yes yes.
I know that after being auto free for the past 5 years while living in Chicago, that I must eventually get a car, but for the time being, this is my little red horse.

While in Taiwan, I spent about ten days on the islands southernmost point, a beautiful surfers paradise called Kenting. After checking into my hotel,  I made a life long friend, Kil’in who told me that I would not be able to rent a scooter without an international license. I had witnessed scooters run amok in Taipei and spent a lot of time on the back of one (yes, some poor soul, had me on the bitch seat of their scooter) and badly wanted one. This international license thing wouldn’t stop me. (nor would the fact that I didn’t even have my actual license with me, just my Illinois state ID card).  On my second day there, I took a cab to the  National Museum of Marine Biology and Acquarium, which as a side note, was better and more comprehensive than even Shedd’s Aquarium in Chicago. During the course of the 30 min trip there, I made friends with the cab driver (obviously) and told him if he found me a scooter I would give him $400 NT (new Taiwanese dollars, about $13 US) a day for the next 10 days if he found me a scooter. He rented me his, and I gave him my ID card as a hold. Cruising the lonely beach, mountain and country roads on this little beast was invigorating and I immediately fell in love.

Fast Forward to LA. I am perusing Craigslist looking for the perfect scooter. Something with style substance and power. Everything I am finding looks rather dull and I become discouraged. A friend is sitting next to me in the room during this search, and suggests I type in “hipster bike” in the search engine. The only thing that came up is the beautiful red bike you see before you here. A 1967 Honda CT90. I LOVE LOVE. I love the Summer of Love. I love the 60’s. And I immediately knew I had to have this bike. So I called the ad and scheduled an appointment. I drove down past Long Beach almost into Orange County on a lazy Saturday and knew right away the bike was mint, as the house we pulled up in had about 4 stereo typical SoCal white dudes (shorts, jacked up white socks, vans, flat brimmed hats) sitting outside a garage and restoring an array of old caddies, bikes and even a Packard. Took it for a spin. Beautifully epic. Now all I need is a name.

I whats apped (the best free international texting app) my friend Kil’in a picture of the bike, and told him that I wanted a name in mandarin because the purchase was inspired by my travels there. He sent me a few options, but there was only one that made sense: Hung Zhu. You want a ride on my hung zoo? All jokes aside he told me it translated into “red piggy” and a legend was born. So internet world, I introduce you to Hung Zhu.

Now I just have to figure out which cool LA scooter gang I am going to join.



Wednesday, November 28, 2012

FaceCrack



About a month ago, I decided to turn off Facebook. Just to see what life was like with out it. As I write this now, I have not died nor been exposed to any serious ailment or dealt with some unspeakable travesty. If you have discussed favorite face-cracking places with me- much like an actual crack head- you know I loved to face-crack whilst in the bathroom (usually sitting on the throne, expelling human waste). Fitting especially, since FB addiction is sort of just: human waste. If you are reading this blog, chances are you suffer from a mild to rampant FB addiction as well, because this is how you got here. During this past month of cyber sobriety, as much as I at first didn’t know what to do while I sat in the bathroom, as much as I missed joking with friends I never see enough, and seeing what people are up to etc etc etc etc…  I realized I didn’t really miss FaceCrook at all.


The University of Arizona was one of the first round of schools to get FB, and with my school email address, I could have joined right away, but I abstained for about a year. Then I remember seeing a friend, Alana Hadid in the ILC (integrated Learning Center) where she posed the argument about its “usefulness in staying in touch with people all over the world post-college”.  (If you are reading this Alana, Yes, I do blame you for my FB addiction).  This staying in touch via FB is now something I have come to term “hannnnnnnging out on the internet”. And I have done that, laughing at jokes, keeping up, stalking photos, sharing good art, music and film etc., and enjoyed that.

I've realized I despise the notion that I am being monetized and data-sized.  It just doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve said this before about FaceCrack, I know, ….but I see this social netfucking site as having more negative than positive; so just bugger, FaceCrack.  I would have to say that I have had this issue with technology for as long as I can remember, (in no way am I arguing that technology is evil) but the internet, as useful as it is, is just kind of lame sometimes.

I found an old college paper that I wrote 12 years ago when moving recently, written years before FB was invented in which I stated that technology strips us of the question “why?” and replaces it with the question “how to?” As in, it strips us of abstract thought and doesn’t allow for full creativity to flow.  It takes away the sense of adventure and curiosity in this sense, because lets be honest….the how to isn’t the juicy part….the why is. This applies to FB too. When you can watch what everyone is doing, and in a sense, you already know the outcome, it depresses the urge to forge real human interaction. Furthermore, FB is just another cyber suburb, with its white washed walls -and though much like the real, world faceTOOK reflects much diversity, also like the real world:  your FB interaction isn’t with too many people outside your social circle.  DO you accept a “FB friendship” from someone you don’t know? Of course not! You, like me and most everyone but the naïve, view that as creepy. But you WOULD talk to a stranger sitting next to you at a bar or your yoga class, and there in lies the cyber friendship flaw. Its limiting your experience, and I don’t want to be friends with your internet image, if you’re my friend, its because I want to be friends with you.


An inherent flaw: artificial intelligence. The lack of emotion is what makes it artificial, because in my opinion emotion is one of the highest forms of intelligence we are capable of. No matter how you slice it, the computer screen yields a blank listless state and lacks any energy, yet holds an abyss of opportunity to truly live a life online.  It has never fulfilled me. There is no human social enrichment better than in the person. I like the visceral. Seeing something and believing it is the easiest form of trickery, and an image, or a video clip online is open to a billion interpretations. I love people. I love being with people I have known since I was born, to meeting new people everyday.  And that is why during my time with a deactivated FB account I was astounded when friends of mine whom I appreciate actually texted me and thought that I blocked them. For no reason. Seriously. If I didn’t like you I don’t really care what my online image can do to your online image. I’d probably just let you know I think you operate at a low frequency. In person.  Hateful words and their weak intentions behind them can be so simply transcribed online. I don’t hate anybody- but I do get angry with people- and if I am angry, be sure I will not use the internet to let you know it.

Lastly, you will live a longer life on the Internet than you will on this planet. No matter how you think you may know someone because of what you interpret their FB to be, you don’t really know them at all, unless you actually talk to them, and always best in person. An internet image might last forever, but real human interaction, visceral friendship is timeless.

So to satiate my need to put forth ideas, jokes, and inspired art, film and music selections on the internet, I decided to start a blog, and No Mark Zuckerberg, even if my intellectual property is worth 1 sheet of triple ply toilet paper (that would be the equivalent of 3.1 shares of FB stock) you will not own it. (Unless you are willing to give me $10 million….then we can talk) If you want to keep up with my adventures, read whatever random thing I am thinking about it, funny (perhaps true, perhaps not) random occurrences… well you know where to find me. If you are reading this, you are already here. So if I don’t like the picture of your new ugly baby (kidding, or am I?), don’t respond to something on my wall or a message, its only because you are using the wrong channel of communication to reach me. My email is rudyranda@gmail.com and you can always email me for my phone number and you can allows follow me on instagram : rudyranda

or you can visit my blog

conquering savage.blogspot.com

Lastly, despite all this, I am not trying to start an anti-FB revolution here, and  I am not going to actually turn off my account right away,  mainly so that I can let people know where all the cool kids are hannnnggging out on the internet (NO! not FB! - its conqueringsavage.blogspot.com ) ! I am not judging those who use it, just relating my human experience. Never the less you probably wont find me hanggggggging out on the internet. You’d have a better chance catching me at the beach with sand in me toes, at the park with my back to some great old tree or find me in some musty dank bar listening to good music.