It was/is/ has been (how's that for tense confusion!) a good day. On many levels that is. I "have material". Why did I ever think for a second i would go more than a single day (kinda) after declaring my withdrawl, b4 I took the internet in hand and danced along it's sophistry again? What a laugh. Good to feel It is to have thoughts worth mentioning, or events of notice.

OK, enough fucking prelude already! Get it out man!
The day started decent with a clock radio belting out some 80's pop song perfect for that half wakefull listening b4 sluggin' outta bed and into the cold (literally) and cruel world...lets just say I don't envy canadians or the like like sarah...-20 degrees with the wind, 0 with wind, and prolly even in centigrade now that I think of it--not farhenheit...

Every once in while for me living this writers life, a moment of calm comes upon me, and this night it struck like a horn from the Horsemen...the bible riders that is...I was standing on the stair landing at Greg and Steve and Steve and Neils, and Johns, and Neil's brother's house...a big drag off the dwindling cigareete in hand shocked the cold out of me and i reeled slightly.

almost immediately I found my mind calm, no ripples in the pond, no thoughts of doubt or insecurity or $$ or school or anything...a catalyst struck me like yet another blow to my chin, an email I've skimmed through earlier today--a fwd from another diary list--the "inner sage" email one personn deemed spam! no way!...close your mind to the world, clear it all away from you, your worries, your fears, and imagine yourself at the edge of a plane with the wise man inside your pysche...ask him your questions and path, and see your pysche tell you, unburdened by the worldly concerns, and the answer ye shall receive.

I found myself in this blackness, and a low hill appeared beneath my fee, daisies crushed underfoot, pollen blowing in that "summer day breeze" just enough to make it idealistic weather...the wise man sat on a glass throne, much like the one in King's _Wizard and Glass_ --the one the Tick Tock man sat on, spefically...my wise man appearance reminded me of olympus and Zeus, and I felt small, but I voiced my question after a moment of thought...and it was God I felt.

I fell out of the trance right there, the sage bent towards me. But i heard my question ringing in my mind still, "where is Jacobsen going and what is his story"...and I heard the answer--it was that very image I just had, the next dream sequence, and that Jacobsen was mad and believe himself a guardian angle, or some effect like that...i heard this character just outside the trance, the sage reappeared in my thought, and his statement was "My lord there is trouble brewed here, and I am ready to save the masses"...like a new born christ...

I went back inside and scribbled these thoughts and notes down. The story that I have let go is moving and shaking itself into my telling, writing itself for me, with help from this inner (OUTER!?) sage--my inspiration? did that man with the flowing snowy beard represent that...was he the inate artist within me? The one that forces thoughts through me as a median when the writing goes fast, stream of conscious, and plays itself beautifully? had I just tapped into that...or was it God himself speaking down to me, making that sign I'd prayed for so many times before atheism came into mind, later to be replaced by agnosticiism and furtehr questioning? That questiong coming to a head?

What I know right now, those cups of coffe within my belly--devoid of dinner because my inner glow ceased any hunger that had been there before, any worldly cravings (save damnable cigarettes gone long ago--is that I have my character fleshed, I have my thoughts focused, I actually have a story here that won't crash and burn as has happened so often in the recent past...i can't recall if it's three or four failed ideas...to be pondered once more and stowed away for later use--somethigg I have a need for later. Right now I have one of those stories in mind, and I'm thinking that this one of those stories could come in handy for *this one*.

I feel redeemed as a wordsmith now...I feel alive again. It's as if that old adadge by some peron that writing is subsitence itself is playing itself out here. There is no fire in my belly or dpeth to my worldly eyes, but there is power in me now, a hope achieved, a life regain...

I feel in control of my life right now--not just the story--that is control on *another* life, the life of my half that write, besides my very own persoanl IRL life, another life in Jacobsen. I had two job interviews today, and that is a substantial feeling of succes right there...the very good possibility of working at a McDonalds does nothing to deter my happiness (pun!)...it is a job, it is money, it is yet one more monkey off my back...maybe even two jobs but I shan't *dare* hope for *noth* jobs--that would be beyond bliss!
I understood the examples Professor Tam is doing in physics, and may not need to retake the lab portion of that class--a big 3 hour chunk of my week gone so as to allow more study/work/sleep/life/writing, etc. I did *excellent* in lab that first time around

I'm hoping for bank on income this semester.

More control/good news...406 english looks like little work/interesting for what there is to do past all the simpleton computer tech the english dept was forced to throw into a class. A "dead" offshoot type band Leftover Salmon is playing the Kate Buchannon room at HSU, a ****tiny**** little room I've had the good fortune of seeing Henry rollins give his talking/spoken word tour in...I posted to DAThead because I *know* there are no other datters here in Humboldt, unless they're not online which mean those taps they make wouldn't circulate onto dat in all likelyhood anyway...that I would go and tape it if someone spotted me the $12 ticket and a blank tape to tape the show with...a *free* concert if you will...I help someone out who wants a tape, get a free show even though I don't like the music particually..but I've not paid too much attention to their music--it might grow on me if I can give it this little chance--this is a relatively big badn--actually played the Fox Theatre--a rather big place that PJ played once--so they gotta be good enough to have that fanbase...a tiny little room to see them in could only make things all that much better--small shows like PJ at the catalyst just simple create an ******incredible******** intensity I've discussed on this journal b4...even crappy bands can rock on if they can connect with the audience, made so easy by so small a room...and to think I can fullfill "cultural heor" duties for those people who agred by email tonight

AAAAHHHH i feel so damn ***happy*** right now--things are falling into place. Reassuringto know that a guy who worked at the unemployment agency finding ***other*** ppl jobs could find one himself when the time came--i actualy have learned a few thigns about job searching--haven't employed all my options yet, still either...karma perhaps? dumb luck perhaps? Or is there some higher power aiding me here? "God helps those who helpd themselves" so even if I bumm both jobs, I got the chance to help myself--both interviews went well...I think maybe telling about my love of concerts, and my trip to Maui was not so good, maybe it was though, I'm not sure--it *does* show passion though, no doub of that...both interview went **excellent** i fell, and there are 6 (six) count 'em 1,2,3,4,5,6 positions open at the arches--I saw the interview time list and there were only about 10 ppl there---***good*** sigsn since the interviewer *really* liked me and we just clicked.

Happiness is so great a feeling. I am so blissed out I can't feel the urge to sleep. I even finished what has been written so far of King's series, and *****get***** this...told Greg and Steve about my online journal...wonder if either will peek? I'd been debating thtat point for a while--I was too blissed out already from the job interviews (told them b4 moment of insight!) that I decided to go for it...parents are on thing--they want to know what I'm doing, not so much my thoughts or philosophies or "over-intellectualizing"...now my friend know of my poetry online, my stories...have accesss to ***me***.

Maybe Greg will stop thinking of me as being a kender kleptomaniac if he saw this...I am not so past me dark self though...I took two cigarettes from a pack left by someone on their living room table, even leaving ten cents on top as way or repayment, it still is a bad thign to have done--stealing drugs just about...even if payment was left...

And now I hear guitar strumming from one of the other apartments...it makes me happy to hear other music now...the world is a loving place and cozy in my eyes for now.

I actually read of other people's sadness over my last posts discussion of less frequent posting...i was shocked to hear it come from more than one person. There was one person I felt rather sure would say or email something...the other was a reminder of a reader come back. Thank you goes to both of you women--ppl I can say I've touched in my life--ppl that I have pleased and maybe just lightened up their own existances a little. I have said harsh words b4 about D, about her journal and my introduction to it at a tumultous time of thought--a serious paranoia had filled me the D and I know I wrote I felt bad about this paranoia, i don't think I ever came out and apolgized. I realized not the result those cuttin words could have had...not truly for you, but only in my wretchedness for thinking it. It was a dark outlook on my world at the time. I guess I could say my life has "moved on" now and my views are different. I know they are in fact.

I was asked if a link to my journal from D's bothered me (Oddities, Abnormalities...), and it does not, I weeped with pain that I might be so thought of as so stand offish by those words...but it was not your fault, only mine that caused the weeping. I've no further wish to cause ill and don't seek to do so again here. I go past that thought on my own, and I've made such a link to your journal b4, it wass in my jlinx.html document.

but I do not write her full name to preclude those ppl from finding a way their by altavista on that name, in my document. I have that much sanity within me as well right now.

my friend, compatriots, beware the 404 that lies often in this journal's future. I have spoken now once more and i find my peace and voice stirred withing me...I cannot foresee it's life past the horizon...but it does have one goodly horizon of sight left for now, I think.
 

I love you Dad. It has pained me to see myself hurting you in the past. Harsh words may be exchanged even in the future, but I see none personally, and hope not to again...I will be at a loss when you are no longer there beside me.