Goodnight song

Goodnight Indy, Goodnight Stone
Remember that Dad loves you
Goodnight Indy, Goodnight Stone
Remember that Dad Loves you
I love my Indy and I love my Stone
I will never leave you alone
I love my Indy I love my Stone
All that I have is love
All of my love for Indy and Stone
reaches further than the stars above
Turn out the lights
and rest your head
The dream tonight
From your bed
is good
it's good
it's good

Hate

What's up with these blog topics I'm coming up with lately? It's the first thought in the morning.

First off, before I get into the topic, I want to congratulate myself for writing and practicing yoga for 90 days in a row! Yeah for me.

I have no idea what I was thinking this morning.

Hate.

There's definitely a lot of that stuff to go around in this life. It's free to all of us. It's so easy too. It's incredibly easy to hate. It's natural. It also makes you feel alive. In junior high it was the only way to talk. "I hate Mr. Pearson, he's such a total dick!" "School sucks so bad; I hate it." It's talk like this that can lead to making out with your girl friend behind the baseball diamond during recess.

There's a few problems that go along with hate. Sure it feels kind of warm, kind of like a friend, and makes us feel alive but it hurts us. Like alcohol it's a poison; a poison that can get us high.

Side note: I love feeling high.

If hate is free and so easily available to us then I would have to assume that love is too. The problem is I don't gravitate towards love. I gravitate towards hate. Maybe this is original sin.

Maybe hate is the road of least resistance and the irony of it all is that it causes the most resistance and friction.

The path of the most resistance? Love. And ironically also it creates a life of less friction and resistance. It's so much easier said than done.

How do I get myself to walk on the same side of the street as love? My only answer is a form of hatred. I think I've found a loop hole, it's called revenge. Who doesn't want to get revenge for being wronged.

Here's the big jedi mind trick: Let love be your revenge.

You're always surrounded

I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I wrote down that topic. I write down these blog topics first thing in the morning and I know I had a point but I can't seem to wrap my mind around it right now.

You're always surrounded? Who's surrounding me? People? Work? Maybe that was it. My company is big brother. They have people watching the people who are watching people. It's got me paranoid.

I'm surrounded by beauty if I want to be. I was driving in the middle of New Mexico for over 3 hours and the sky was beautiful. If I want to see the original creator I just have to look up. Sometimes I forget how much beauty is around me.

I have love surrounding me. Permeating my entire being. All I have to do is feel it. Sometimes I try so hard not to feel.

You can feel when you want to; look for the love.

Meeting the comedy old guy

So I'm hanging in Albuquerque and I somehow meet someone. Don't ask me how I do it because I don't know. People never believe me but weird shit happens in my world. I met this older gentleman. I like older people by the way. I used to work as a waiter in a retirement high-rise. I had the bowl cut; my favorite haircut. I loved the Beatles in high school. I remember the old people loved my hair. They would always comment on it and I would prepare myself for something like, "Get a haircut sonny!" but instead I would get, "Hey son, I would give anything for your head of hair." They loved it.

Older people have wisdom. At least that's what I like to believe.

So I met this 83 year old man who worked in show business for 60 years. He was a comedy writer and performer. He wrote jokes for famous comedians, was a writer on a show called laugh in (which gave Goldie Hawn her big break), he wrote for Bill Cosby and all kinds of other shows and cool people. I told him I was an aspiring comedian and he said we should have lunch.

We met at the Frontier which is a cool restaurant right by the University of New Mexico and he bought me lunch. I got to hear his story, ask him for advice, and listen to a very cool man for an hour. He watched my comedy and he said that he liked it a lot. Then he asked me how I came up with the technique pf repeating everything that I say. He said it was very unique, he'd never seen it done before. I had no idea what he was talking about until I figured out that he pushed play twice on my youtube video and that's why I was repeating everything.

So the lesson here is that I'm very funny if you play two of my videos at the same time for an echo effect. Thank you sir.

Where is your noise coming from?

Is it the little screaming?
Is it the pretty dreaming?
Is it the friendly comments?
Is it the working audits?
Is it the TV?
Or is it me?
Is it in the outer?
Coming through the router?
Or in between my ears?
Multiplying fears
Deeper till you're lost
Further down and what's the cost?
My life?
My wife?
My friends? My work?
No end? To become a jerk?
Questions stare like stardust
Till we smash the final bust
This is where the trip begins
This is where what once was ends
And after that it's unexplored
But that's what this life is for

Loneliness

I'm in my hotel room after work half watching a Sandra Bullock and Josh Brolin movie while half writing this blog while ignoring the thought that this lap top is giving me lap cancer. When I was 20 I was lonely beyond belief. I was one of those guys surrounded by friends who felt like he had no friends. How is that possible? Don't quite know but I seem to pull off stuff like that.

When I quit drinking and did some internal work on myself things in the loneliness area began to change. I became comfortable with myself. I met my wife. I really haven't been alone since. I've been the opposite of alone. I became surrounded. Too loved. Is that possible? I seem to pull these things off.

But now I've got this job that leaves me alone for weeks at a time. I'm tasting the loneliness again. The one comforting thing is that I have a family waiting for me. I love them.

I think sometimes you need to get away to see what's underneath it all. What's there when all the music of life stops?

You don't know panic attacks!

Ever since the TAL episode came out I've received a fairly good size of responses from people. I seem to be fairly polarizing. I've got a lot of positive responses but I've also got a lot of negative ones too. Here's a comment on my website I received the other day:

Comment: I just got to say Your pretty funny guy. Sorry but only about 1/100 th of the amount of funny required for television success. Cant understand why it took so long for you to see that? Also dude please read up on panic attacks. You haven't a clue as to what a true panic attack is. It is just a bit irritating to hear someone talk about having 1/2 hour or 6 month long panic attacks when I have had REAL panic attacks. You'd probably last about 10 seconds before screaming in horror if you ever were so unfortunate to experience a REAL panic attack. hmm Maybe that is the problem you don't really know that much about people. Probably necessary to be a successful talk show host. Take care.

End of comment

First off I want to say this, I never said that I thought my show was at the level of quality to be on TV. I also never felt that my performance as a talk show host was ever really a level that could compete with the big boys. There's a difference between a) seeing something that is and claiming it to be brilliant and b) having a vision for the potential of something to be brilliant.

I quit my job after the first show. If you watch that first show and judge my actions by what can be seen on youtube you'll think I'm crazy. And with good reason; the first show sucked. But what everyone can see with their eyes is not always the truth. At least it wasn't my truth. What I saw was a vision of something great. The one thing that I wish I could have gotten across on that show was that I don't believe that I ever achieved my vision. I came short.

One of the things I learned is that it's hard to be funny when your not having fun. It's also hard to be funny when you are reading jokes off of a cue card written by someone else who just gave them to you before the show started while you are directing and worrying about cameramen, cast, guests, and audience at the same time. I still do believe I have what it takes. If I had half the support that a real talk show has and I had the chance to just concentrate on being funny I do believe that I have something special. I don't think that my true talent as a host is displayed on my talk show but I do still believe it is within me.

As for panic attacks this gentlemen has know idea that I have been through hell with an anxiety disorder. At age 15 I started to have almost paralyzing panic attacks. Heart palpations, a psycho feeling that something is terribly wrong, followed by thoughts and feelings of terror. I used to stay in my room for weeks at a time. I had to hold on to my moms shoulder to walk. I was ready for the fucking loony bin. I was fucking crazy and fucking scared. I had an MRI, I was checked by all kinds of doctors and psychologists. I would have two or three a day for a week straight and then they would go away for a year or two and then come back. Panic attacks are like the hiccups, when you get one more come and they're hard to stop.

As I grew older I learned ways to deal with this problem. One thing I learned was how to not be so attached to my thoughts. The thoughts were the scariest part of the attack, they made it worse. I learned that exercise and eating right were a big part of it. I learned that meditation was helpful. I learned that direct communication was good so I don't just stuff my feelings.

But the thing is this stuff is ingrained in me and I fall off the wagon. When I first met Lesley I had panic attacks worse than ever before. More frequent and longer. Eventually I had so much practice dealing with them that I learned how to act like they weren't happening at all.

To this day they still haunt me. I just want to say to this person who wrote me the comment that when I say all day long and six months at a time I am not lying. I am not exaggerating. Imagine those terrible real attacks that you have been victim to lasting every few minutes for a day. Imagine them leaving you for a few days only to come back 4 days later. Imagine you so called real attacks not going away. I have lived it. I do live it. So go fuck yourself with your little once in a while "real" panic attack and say something when you've truly experienced hell like I have.

Heaven is for people who are scared of hell; spirituality is for those who have been there.

Hotels

Some of the nicer hotels are not as nice as a notch down (that doesn't make sense). I'm really ADD right now. I'm listening to Bill Burr's podcast as I write this while I'm monitoring walkers out in the field. I just want to get my writing done before I get off work.

You can always relax better after you've done what you've agreed with yourself to do. I've made a commitment to myself to do yoga and write. My mind and my body and my comedy and my movie are included in those two.

I'm a little crazy right now due to a week alone in a strange town. Which brings me back to hotels. Why the fuck am I talking about hotels? I don't know. For some reason I wrote that down this morning.

My hotel is pretty cool; 47 inch flat screen, L-couch and wet bar area with a desk work area and then two queen size beds. It's clean, classy feeling, and nice. It also has a complimentary breakfast.

I'm not in the mood to write right now. I have no real desire to write about hotels.

I'm in Albuquerque. What to do here? I don't know, but I'm hoping I can get most of my screenplay finished. I have 47 scenes outlined and I've written the dialog for 14 scenes. I'm handwriting the first draft and will do the second draft in final cut.

That's all I have.

big brother

I'm watching you!

Please don't watch me.

I'm sorry but it's my job.

You have a job to watch me?

Yes they pay me to watch you and report back to the corporate big wigs the exact nature of all your doings.

I don't feel so good.

That's because it doesn't feel good to be watched; unless you're into some freaky sex shit.

I don't believe you.

You can believe what you want but the fact remains that I stand in front of you with this camera. Say cheese.

Please don't point that camera at me.

It's my job; I'm a professional.

You're distracting me from my work.

You're distracting me from my work too. If you wouldn't talk to me so much and focus on working then I can focus on taking pictures of you working.

This job isn't as fun anymore now that I know people are watching me.

It's called work; it's not called fun.

I still like to have fun when I'm working, it makes me feel like I have a little sense of dignity.

My job is to take away your dignity.

I would rather keep it.

Sorry it's already in my camera awaiting shipment to corporate where they will then judge you and your worthiness.

I'm depressed.

Good I'm doing my job.

I'm numb.

Now you're getting the hang of things.

Shopping with Mom

There's something about shopping with my Mom that usually puts me on edge. I think she is the one that ruined shopping for me; in fact I'm traumatized. As a youngster just wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of the mall only to be held hostage in the womens bra section. I was definately traumatized.

To this day I can't be in any type of a store without going into,"I've got to get the fuck out of here" full fledge panic mode. I suppose that's a good thing, I don't waste a lot of money shopping but I also married a shopper so I'm right back to square one.

Today wasn't that bad to tell you the truth, it's been much worse in the past.

I'm so fucking tired right now; sleep for me.

Hate Mail

So the radio show This American Life has a large listener-ship, I heard Ira Glass say it's 2,400,000. So 2,400,000 people were exposed to the Duke Fightmaster Show. I received a lot of encouraging emails but of course I dwell only on the negative. One person hopes that I die alone. Two other people say that I'm basically an egomaniac who doesn't care about my family.

You can get so much good and still only focus on the negative. This is life. My eyes are magnifying glasses and what ever I point them towards grows an enormous amount. If this is the case then the question to life is where are you pointing your glasses.

Mind like water. Water has the perfect response. If you drop a pebble into the pond the pond responds with a ripple. A perfect ripple. A ripple perfectly in proportion to the weight and speed of the rock at impact. If you throw a big rock, the water makes a big splash, again in perfect proportion to the rock.

How many times do we react out of proportion? That question is rhetorical but the answer is many. So place your glasses on the positive and remember Duke there were way more positive comments.

I talk to myself in the third person now.

Bored

Whenever I here the word or think to my self, "I'm bored." I here some adults voice from when I was a kid saying, "That's because you're boring."

OK. I guess I'm boring. That's what happens when you have no direction in life. No people in life except for the TV. When I was a kid I was able to tune out on TV for 18 hours straight. I'm not talking about watching TV and learning things. Complete tune out.

That's my life, a tune out. That's my nature, to tune out. A space cadet. It's not that I'm stupid, I think it might be the opposite (of course I would think that). If you're too smart, maybe smart isn't the right word, too "sensitive" then you are apt to take in more pain. More beauty too, but I tend to lean towards pain. You analyze, you see the worst, you feel the worst.

Who wants to feel the worst? Not me. So I tune out.

So tuning out is boring. It's no way to spend life. I'm numb, years of pain killing boredom has made me numb. I'm trying to break through the numbness, but it goes deep. Almost to the core. But we all have a core and that's where the real deal is. Some people spend their entire life ignoring the core. Others are knocked by life to wake you up. Maybe that's what the random bleakness of life is all about? To wake us up.

I choose being awake, but making the choice is not enough, you have to make a decision. The word decision is similar to the word incision and what it means is to cut yourself off from. To make a decision to not be numb you have to cut yourself off from all things numb.

Love

A feeling?
In your heart?
A vibration?
Maybe an act?
Between people?
Father and child?
Mom and Dad?
Friendship?
Husband and wife?
God?

All of the above and so much more. If you can believe in anything it might as well be love. Right?

Why can't love be a religion?

Think of others. Do for others. Give freely of yourself.

Give love. Don't seek but give.

And don't forget to laugh.

Screenplay

Screenplays to hot days
Always un-phased
sky's touched fists clutched
hatched down and turned around
eyes closed night time doze
undiscovered prickly rose
don't ask the thoughts are true
but so's your gut to steer the crew
I'm underground but over stated
Over loved but sense has faded
True to touch don't want much
Just something more beyond the system
Something for my hearts remission

Leaving the Family

I'm in Fresno or maybe you like to call it Fresyes. I'm away from the family again. I miss them. I love my kids and I love my wife. I wish I was with them. I wish I had the money to spend all my time with them.

I was depressed as usual on the airplane and right as it was about to take off I got a call from a producer that said they wanted my life rights to make a movie about me. I had to hang up because my plane was about to leave but my head was going crazy.

A movie? About me? Do I mind? WTF! No I don't mind, that sounds awesome! What does this mean? It could mean nothing. It probably means nothing. But if it means something?

What if it means when you let go something happens.

Fingers crossed.

You're a homophobic who's harsh torwards women!

I've finished my interview with This American Life and I'm told that the episode will air this Saturday. The reporter called me up for some fact checking to make sure that her story is basically true. She said she might have put a few of the events out of order to make the story come together.

I spent 2 and a half years trying to get publicity for my show, to build a fan base. I wanted to get fans to interact with. I had a segment called "The comments" where I read the youtube comments, which usually told me how much I sucked but I had some fans. It was cool.

I've been telling people the show is on hiatus but I think I'm finally realizing that it's over. And right when it's over I get to have my voice in front of over 2 million people. I've finally got my shot to promote something and I have nothing to promote. Isn't that exactly how this world world works? The moment you stop trying something happens.

The reporter asked me if I had a website or anything that I wanted to promote and I didn't know what to say. My best thinking was that this is an audience that listens to podcasts so I told her to say I'm working on a podcast called Duke's World. They say that a sign of maturity is learning your limitations and working within them. I think podcasting might be outside the realm of my limitations but fuck it I guess I'm not mature yet.

At the last minute I told her to say that I'm an aspiring comedian. She said, "Yeah I listened to your comedy and you're surprisingly harsh. You're harsh on gays and women."

Oh fuck! So not only am I going to be introduced to 2 million people but I might be labeled homophobic and chauvinistic? I told her I had a joke that had the word "homo" in it but it was me reading a youtube comment of someone calling me a homo. I wanted to say that I have a lot of gay friends but then I thought that is what people who are racist say. "I have black friends."

So there you go; I'm getting my publicity and have nothing to promote and have the possibility of being labeled "harsh towards gays and women."

I'm really going places.

Holding on for life

Some people can only get "good" for certain lengths of time. They're just wired that way. They're wired to fuck up. There's family dynamics at work; you've probably heard of the identified problem or the black sheep. I've been both. Then there's the Golden child. The one that can do no wrong. The savior. I've been that one too.

I'm an only child from a broken family. Just me and Mom, but Mom is mostly at work. So our little family has to work in the "identified problem", "Savior", "Victim", "Persecutor" and all the other roles into a family of two. I take on most of the roles at different times. My mom is mostly victim and worrier.

I have the deep seeded need to fuck up. I don't outwardly want to fuck up I'm just born with it embedded into my psyche. I want to be good. Being a fuck up is kind of like being gay. You want to be straight but you just love guys. You're born that way. The choice is easy. It's so easy for me to pick "fuck up". There's something fun about it; it's like I feel love when I'm fucking up. I feel alive when I'm fucking up.

When I'm good I feel numb. After a while feeling bad is better than feeling nothing at all. You can only try to be good for so long, if you're like me, before tearing the roof over your head. People like me have a knack for pulling the roof down at the perfect time too. Usually the time that's most inappropriate for ourselves and the people around us.

I guess I'm just trying to hold on. I'm holding on for my life; it seems that every time you open your eyes in this life something you thought was grounding you slips away. Maybe that's the reason for the "fuck up kid". When I see something vanishing I smash it in an inappropriate way so people can tell me that it exists.

If you see too much you end up seeing an unbalancing amount of perception and getting any reaction from the other patrons of this ride can bring you back. I think I need a shaman. That would be more appropriate, but then they're just fuck ups too, just like yoga teachers.

I'm holding on. I'm searching. At least I can say I'm searching; people who are searching are the best although not always firmly grounded.

Hold on people. Hold on.

God silence

I first became intrigued with the idea of silence when I studied John Cage in school. Cage was fascinated with silence. He was on a quest to experience true silence. The only problem he kept running into was whenever he purposely got quiet there were still sounds from things in this world beyond his control. His musical composition which Cage is most famous for is 4:33. Four minutes and thirty three seconds. This composition can be played with any instrument in any ensemble.

The music is 4 minutes and 33 seconds of nothing. Of silence. What we get is not silence though. Sounds from the audience, the street outside, the theater walls give the true performance. Whatever is heard during this period of "silence" becomes the musical piece.

Cage discovered that even when he tried to be silent there was no silence. He researched the science and went to the only true sound proof room which was located at NASA. We somehow finagled his way in to finally experience true silence.

What happened? Was John Cage one of the only humans to experience true silence?

No.

What happened in the most silent room in the world was he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. You turn off all the sound in the world and still your body is making noises. Cages conclusion was: there is no such thing as silence.

Whenever people talk about silence I always want to tell them that John Cage says there is no such thing as silence. It's my need to be right. Sometimes when you have the need to be right you cut yourself off from learning anything new. And once you stop growing you start dying.

So maybe we could stop thinking about Cage for a second and ask ourselves what does silence mean in the context of spirituality?

Is God silent? I try to speak with him but with no direct communication. Is God passive aggressive? They say to respect God's clock. You have to wait.

What if God is the silence. I'm totally rambling right now.

In mediation we get quiet. Why? To get beyond our thoughts. To get beyond our brains. To get to a place of higher awareness. The more time we spend in this silence the more we bring calm and wisdom to our real life. We are borrow wisdom from the silence.

Who's gonna take time to get quiet? Some nerd who has nothing better to do. Actually nerd think too much but maybe someone will think his way into not thinking so he can think better when he does think.

Make sense?

Get silent.

Wisdom and giving

I remember the character Saul from the bible. God asks him what he wants and he says "wisdom". Apparently wisdom is the greatest thing to ask for, it creates prosperity and peace. It gives you answers that allows you to rest assured with yourself and your place in the world.

I like wisdom. I like little truths that guide us in life. Maybe I'm writing this now because I am in search of some guidance.

Depression can't hit a moving target.

You've got to get rid of the "maybes" and "I don't knows" to make room for the "Fuck yeahs!"

I like the Tae Te Ching which I have been told translates into "The way". It's basically saying this is how life works. The book is giving you truth. Sometimes truth is hard to understand.

I like the art of war. More truth here. If you do this then that will happen.

Isn't that all we want? I want to know exactly what I have to do to get "that" to happen. Sop what's "that"?

Money, sex, free time to surf, to hang out with my friends, to create. What gives someone authenticity? That's what I want. I want authenticity.

That's what I'm running from. The fake, the untrue, the lie. How do you escape the fake when the entire world you live in is fake? How do you discover truth when truth is undiscoverable? How do you escape the lie when your world is a lie?

I'm trying but I seem to be running in circles. There's something wrong with the system. There's a chink in the armor and if you examine it everything comes apart.

I'm coming apart. Can I be put together again?

What is the desire to give wisdom? I daydream of the day when I speak to people of the path. The day I own the wisdom and am able to share it. I'm searching for this wisdom which I wish to give away. Is this wisdom enlightenment. I want it. I'm on a quest towards enlightenment and the lights seem to be turned off.

Here's to the search for light.

Is it lost faith?

I'm lost. I'm a wanderer with chronic anxiety drowning in a sea of confusion while burning my stomach with turmoil accompanied by a shame filled head of regret. This is life.

I was like this before. I am back; I'm at square one. What happened? Had I not built a solid foundation upon which to build my home of contentedness? Apparently not because the walls of perception have begun to unravel all around me.

It is true I have learned much but I am beginning to realize why they say that youth is wasted on the young. In junior high I used to indulge in the fantasy of going back in time. If only I could go back to the age of 10 knowing all that I knew at age 14. I would go back and talk longer on the phone with my girlfriend; I would go for the kiss. I would do my homework. I would practice my saxophone. I would've started playing guitar. But most importantly I would tell my Dad I loved him. He died when I was twelve.

I would tell him that I've seen the future. I would save his life.

When I was 15 I wanted to go back to 14. I wouldn't of dumped my 8th grade girlfriend at the beginning of summer for all the chicks I was going to score.

This goes on and on all the way to age 37 right now.

Panic attacks at 37! Since I was 15; It's been fucking 22 years! 22 years of living in a different plane. The plane of fears and irrational thoughts of death. When does it stop? I used to think that I could find the one answer. I kind of did find the one answer; it was "there is no one answer, but a full spectrum of simultaneous multiple answers." I used to be much smarter and more creative than I am today. Today I'm tired.

This shouldn't make sense to anyone but my foundation was faulty. Maybe it was meant to get me this far, but now it's time for a complete remodel. I feel like God has cut my head open and started to rip out the wires. I'm being re-wired. At least I hope I am, if not I'm slowly sliding into hell. Hopefully instead I'm being pressured into a diamond.

I'm trying to save my soul and I waited too long. Sometimes late is better than never but it definitely hurts more.