Saturday, March 21, 2009

Now I don't feel so damn heartless anymore. Yes, I feel a passion I didn't before. (Day 108)

Chapter 2 of "Open Roads and Brick Walls" was finished last night. Besides some minor editing, it actually came out pretty well, and I'm really happy with how it's coming out.

Today's the third chapter I'll be working on, and it's called "Rooftops". I have a feeling this chapter is going to be quite a bit shorter than it's predecessors.

It's strange working on a full length novel. And sitting here doing so, I look back to the past decade or so, and I've kind of come quite a long way since I was nine years old.

The funny thing is that the writing, at least the content and stuff, a lot of where I was at nine years old as far as politics and things of that nature go.

But I've went from writing these poems or songs, to short stories, to now apparently a full novel.

The first short I wrote was called, and there are three people who will remember this, but it was called "Of Fortune, For Avi".

I may actually post that installments on here one day soon.

But Of Fortune...was inspired from the Comfort Inn I used to work at. Every morning I had to set up the breakfast (I worked the night shift) and after I was finished with that, surfing around on the internet, when I overheard this tiny little Japanese grandmother that was being wheeled away by her granddaughter saying, "The first time I had yogurt, the Americans bombed Nagasaki." I sat there kind of stunned and dumb struck for a second.

To have that kind of attachment to a cultured dairy down right shocking. I mean, if you really, really think about it. Imagine having that kind of association with something. One day your sitting peacefully outside, or going for a walk, and you bend down to smell a flower, and you look up to see a mushroom cloud in the sky.

One day you wind up in that country that dropped that bomb, and you see that same flower there as just some sort of decoration that people aren't paying attention to. But all you see is a mushroom cloud. All you see is a slap in the face.

The short story turned into a six-part installment that traversed back and forth between three generations of Japanese women, starting with the Grandmother, to her daughter, to her daughters daughter.

But even thinking back to it, I can only kind of cringe. When I post it here, I won't edit it because I want you to see how far I've come with the medium of story telling. But it's just not very good compared to what I've done since then.

I knew I wanted to write a full novel one day. I always knew I did, but I had no idea what it would be like, and I couldn't actually see myself having the discipline in doing something that seems like such a daunting task. I could never fully envision sitting here, getting frustrated and not having any confidence in what I was doing, or just rambling incoherently, or I'm not sure. I just kept thinking and thinking and thinking of all the things that could go wrong, or if it would be hard.

My good friend Blue recently told me "If you focus on something and never take no, it is fail proof. You take no to heart all the damn time, my friend. Why validate yourself through these experiences when you could just be focusing on the point that there is SOME sort of outcome, even if it's not what you thought it would be? {...} There isn't a single outcome that you can't get through, Aaron. Seriously. Yeah, stuff hurts, but it's only temporary and things only really hurt while you let it hurt.

I understand some things hurt a lot and last awhile, but there's seriously a point where it stops hurting, and until then days pass you by and what are you doing except thinking about pain? Wouldn't it be a better idea to go out and do something else than think about how much something hurts?"

We were talking about things I wanted to do with my life, and one of them would be to open a performance venue/bar, but I have shit credit and nothing to put up for collateral. But that the time she said that, it wasn't just about business to me. I think she meant it a lot more personally than just expanding HaleCo.

Somewhere recently I got a giant kick in the ass. I just want to write this book, and put miles between me, and what I've went through, and never look back. The past is the past, and the past is bullshit. Not only that, it's old bullshit. I'm ready for new bullshit.

I got the last story from File Under Powerviolence last night. At first I was gonna re-write parts of it, but at this point...I just don't see why. Why edit how I felt? It was written by a key chain flash light (more of a key hole finder) in California, and everything I felt at that time now resides on those pieces of paper. For better or worse, that's what happened then and the story behind the story is just as important to me. It's a last will and testament.

File Under Powerviolence is done. D-O-N-E. I've completed something. Every single thing dealing with it is now gone. And a lot of those stories are things that held me back in life, and now that it's finished...I don't know. I've made peace with the skeletons in my closet. It's time to go make new mistakes, break new hearts, get drunk with new friends. Say goodbye to old bad habits and welcome the new ones.

Making peace with the demons of yesterday is a weird thing. I've never actually done that, and there's still a few lingering ones that I'm face to face with in Open Roads, and I am dreading that. But it feels like an emancipation. I've waited my whole life to life.

"Stop thinking, and just start doing."

Straight to the point. It's so simple, but why is it we view the most simple solutions as the most obtuse and unimaginable? Is nothing simple right? I'm a chronic over-thinker, and I'm starting my twelve steps today.

-Until tomorrow.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Maybe we've outgrown the things we once loved. (Day 107)

"You're one of the most incendiary, promising and diverse writers I have ever seen. The fact that you're 23, and light years ahead of authors; established authors and writers who've spent years honing their craft, it's almost scary. It sends tingles down my spine to think of where you'll be at and what you'll be capable of when you've actually 'honed' the skills you already have in the years to come. It's more than a gift and a blessing with you--it's a downright sixth sense." - Kathleen T., anonymous publishing consultant.

Blah, blah, blah. Ha.

I began working on an actual full-length book the other day. I'd had the ideas written in these little notebooks all over my room. Late at night, I'd be asleep and get an idea...wake up, write it down (quite unintelligible--as with anything I write) wake up in the morning and wonder what I meant by "purple water dish monkey hang glider." And then scrap the idea and write about drinking. Stick with what you know, right? Worked for Bukowski, and he only had one story to tell. But he made it work, and he looked great in his desolation doing it. I guess you can have one story, but to a's as many different stories to make the bottles collecting linty-mud on the floor.

I've been thinking so much about the five year plan. The book is a huge part of that. I'm not a gambling person, even when the odds are in my favor. But I'm starting take those risks, however miscalculated.

I have no idea what the future holds. But I'm done living day by day just to see where I'm going. I'm happy now, I'm content...but I'm hungry. I'm starving. Ever since I was a child I wanted to sink my teeth into the underbelly of the world, and try to take as big of a piece of it as I could.

The changes lately have been natural and effortless. I stopped thinking about it, it just happens. It seeming to become easier and easier to walk away from everything I once was, and not feel a tinge of regret.

Yesterday morning, and the night prior for that matter, I did something that I don't normally do. Without going into detail, I was adamant about not doing what I did yesterday night/morning while conversing with a friend. When she and I hung up, I laid there in bed for half an hour pondering why I was so adamant that I not do what was in front of me.

Finally I stopped being so resolute for a second. "It's harmless fun." And it is. "If you ever wanted to truly get away from who you are, this is one of the 'big three' and it's a step in the right direction." Well,'s true. Promiscuity isn't something I've ever really subscribed too. It's always been difficult for me because I always felt emotion should be attached. I don't know why, either. Other people do it, and don't give it a second thought. I guess I just cringe at the idea of becoming a number, but hell...that's happened a lot. "Might as well have some fun."

And then I asked myself a few very important questions/chastised my, "What're you running from? What are you scared of? Why are you so against this? You've an adult now, act like it. Stop sabotaging yourself, and stop thinking like a kid. It's time to grow up. Emotion and feeling aren't as important as you think."

What am I running from? It feels like slamming a steel door shut, when all that was closed before was a window of opportunity.

What are you scared of? Moving on, moving forward, and starting new chapters. Falling for someone new.

You're an adult now, act like it - What always perplexed me about people is how they could just shrug it off.

Stop sabotaging yourself - I do this a lot, and I'm working hard to get past it.

Emotion and feeling aren't as important as you think - No one else gives a fuck. Why should I?

So I gave in. And truth be told, it was a lot of fun.

That's one thing I've noticed in the past few years. A lot of times I pull a Costanza, and do something that feels wrong, or is something that I never thought or dreamed I would turned out to be a great and memorable experience. I guess I don't know who I am anymore, because morals, my ideals--everything is now drawn into question. Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, kid...and maybe that's the best thing ever.

"Maybe we've outgrown the things we once loved."

A few years ago, if you would have told me I'd be putting this much of myself on the line with the writing, how big of a roll certain things that might be questionable would play in my life...I might have laughed.

Four years ago I was considered by many to be an alcoholic. And while I still can pack 'em away, and be the way I can while drunk, or even intoxicated (it's unheard of, ask around. It's actually quite impressive, my legacy of brew-tality) while others wouldn't even fathom of being left standing, I don't drink nearly a quarter as much as I used to.

I realized something last night. I've never had a personal conviction. Now, I do have convictions; be they political or moral or things along those lines. But in dealing with mind, body and soul...I've never had a conviction. I think it's because I've never had anything to believe in. That was until last night, and I was proud to go down swinging.

But I guess I do not know myself. Or I'm in the midst of change, and who I was is no longer applicable, and I just need to start reintroducing myself. we go, I guess.

-Until tomorrow.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Sincerally, never coming back. (Day 106)

You know what....

After watching this, right now I have nothing to say.

*If the owners want it taken down, contact me*

This terrifies the shit out of me. Live in fear, sinners.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is. (Day 105) [Guest Update.]

I've got a lot on my mind right now, and I'm trying to figure out a few new people in my life. It's nothing negative at all, I had a great night last night, and I won't get too much into details about why (kind of a TMI situation, I guess, plus I'm not a "kiss-and-brag"l kinda guy) (However...Show Stopper in the house!) but I definitely will give some skinny on some of it.

So instead of boring you with the details, I thought you guys deserved an awesome and entertaining treat!

Today's guest update comes from my friend Ina, who's a gorgeous, talented, intelligent and hilarious foreigner (She calls me Mr. Hale in accents, and I believe in God for a brief moment.) I met her through our mutual friend Ryan, and she's been nothing but
a kind and supporting friend who's gone as far to drive herself nearly insane to try and teach me basic algebra. She's also kind of a hippie.

She's a completely caring, and talented individual with an interesting viewpoint of the world, so with great pride I present today guest update. Thank you Eenz.

(God, she's just cute. Be jealous.)

So sit back and enjoy. It's a pretty cool commentary on quite a few different subjects pertaining to Los Estados Unidos.

I'll definitely be back tomorrow.

(PS: Sorry for the lack of caps/general editing. She was adamant it focus more on the emotion of the peace, and I definitely can respect that. Sort of an e.e cummings kinda thing.)

-Aaron Hale

today was the shittiest day of my life.

i stayed up until four in the morning, talking to the boy i'll probably end up falling in love with. i slept for two hours and had to take a final calc exam which needless to say, kicked my ass because 1) i never went to class 2) i obviously didn't prepare 3) two hours is not enough bloody sleep. ever.

then, here comes the shittier part:

i had to turn in a reflective essay, which i quickly wrote right after the test although i was supposed to take my sweet "time with it", where i had to talk about how my writing abilities have improved. that was my final. my evil stoic teacher believes that i can't write well, because i'm foreign. "writing center would help you tremendously" NO it fucking wouldn't, you preppy old lifeless bitch. i can write your fucking face off and you wouldn't even know what hit you.

and the shittiest part:

any other day, i would have said that out loud. but this is america (land of free speech) and if i had said it to her, she would have failed me and i would have lost my scholarship to one of the most prestigious schools in chicago. defuckingpaul. whose message is that of help and humanity but has transformed into a business that employs the heartless only to inform you that "no you can't meet with your adivsor now even though you really need to. you can't meet with her tomorrow. come back in two weeks?" with a nasty look on their face, as if you owe them their ghostly money.

but i can't say that to her, because i can't fail, because i can't lose the scholarship, because if i do my parents might be ruined. not just their fruitful investments in me, which include the foulest verbal abuse, but most importantly their reputation. but what if i did?

as i sat clueless as to whatever the fuck local extrema, critical numbers, tangent lines, intervals of increase, derivatives and upward concavity of f prime of (x) meant, i wondered how i got at that point and i thought of ambrose and how i could run away to him, with him. ignorance is not bliss, but i don't want this kind of knowledge.

and later as my body ached for rest and my stomach growled from no doz and cigarettes, as i was scavenging to put together lies for my teacher by bringing myself down and then back up because that's the facade she wants to see, i heard some a business-y dressed up boy talk about aig to another. "yeah i guess he's giving a big speech about it, we can watch it live. . . stock value . . . 45 percent . . ." i shut him out and i thought of running free in a green field. but even green fields cost money to stand on these days. and no matter how much i try, i can never submit to the world that is america. that's my final verdict.

you know what love is? love is not a stock market. not an essay. not a number. not a suit. not greed. not lies. not pain. not here.

-Until tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Never had a drink that I didn't like. Got a taste of you, threw up all night. (Day 104)

Happy St. Patrick's Day, kids.

Tonight seems to be pretty eventful for your boy, and I'm stoked as hell quite honestly.

I want to touch on something that I don't usually do.

I'm one of a few things. I'm an asshole; but I'm also half Hispanic and Irish (The latter is redundant with the asshole part.) Both of those origins have had a history of having it more than rough in the good old Los Estados Unidos, as well as their homelands.

My estranged father, whom I've never met, was a Hispanic man. My mother...not so much.

While my family doesn't necessarily partake in any sort of culture outside of the families, one of the traditions we have is steeped in the American Irish heritage (different from domestic Irish culture, which is good...I don't eat no hog) of a meal (corned beef and cabbage).

I realize that today is much more than just green beer and four leaf clovers, but far be it from the Irish in me to turn away that Americanization. I mean, I do live here...

But also living in the southwest of America, we do partake in quite our fair share of Mexican food. Burritos, enchiladas, sopapillia, fideos, tamales, caldo de pollo, romeritos (love) and the awesome quesadilla.

The point of this isn't to read out like a Mexican Food stands menu (If you're ever in Arizona, I demand you find a Nico's or Filabertos. You can thank me in the form of a pollo asada burrito.) Rather it's to point out how much impact certian cuisines have on all of our Western Cultures, be they Chinese, Korean, Italian, Irish, Mexican, German or other.

When they are localized, especially here in America, a lot of the time people don't even give a second thought to what went into putting that food in their shopping cart at the market, just as long as it was cheap.

And in America, despite your opinions on illegal immigration, a healthy majority of the percentage of that food comes from the picking hands of migrant workers. The nuts, the fruits, the delicious vegetables. A lot of the time they hardly ever approach minimum wage, work in terrible conditions; health coverage is unheard of. While these immigrants came to America in search of a better life for their families and thereselves, they choose this line of work because it's a job Americans, at least most of them, refuse to do.

Now, I realize what I'm saying isn't exactly groundbreaking, but I want to bring more attention to the fact that they take the bullet for their families to improve their future generations of their lineage. That's love. Pure and true love.

But if they get injured in those dangerous conditions, or run into hardships, it can spell curtains.

But because the pay is so poor, you just can't get ahead of that, and eventually schooling no longer becomes an option, and some of the most liberal orginizations won't touch this issue on a drunken dare.

That's where Harvest of Hope, a truly tremendous and wonderful orginization comes in. 90 cents of every dollar they raise goes directly towards aide. It aides the migrant farm workers with emergency help for medical, trasnportation, and even sets up scholarship funds for the children of these farmers.

Because we live in America, most of our holidays are feast holidays. In that regard, these people have their work cut out for them, often times 14 hours a day so we can make damn sure that turkey have stuffing, and those sweet potatoes have marshmallows on them.

I just hope you check the site out, maybe toss a few dollars if you can or forward the site to someone who may. I don't normally do things like this because I don't want to be a person who just has all these causes and don't even know what it is I'm suggesting people support, nor do I want to be that kind of person who tries to make you feel guilty. Especially now, with money being tight everywhere.

But in keeping with the theme of this blog, and more specifically this post, theres one more orginization I want to shed light on as well, as these two aren't usually well known. It's called the Icarus Project, and it's something I wholeheartedly love. Plus they throw kickass shows.

It delves more into cultiviating the creativity as well as drawing attention to people who suffer from mental afflictions. Most of the highest regarded thinkers, artists and creators of history suffered from some sort of mental afflication. One of the most notorious culprits of this is manic depression and bi-polar disorder.

So it's a cool site to kind of just go through and see what it's all about. They have a different approach, and I think it's a little bit more real than most orginizations.

So that's all on the PSA front. Go out, get drunk, wear condoms, dress in green, drink green beer and have fun.

-Until tomorrow.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Turn gunshots and mortar blasts into a metaphor for how we are all the same. (Day 103)

The funny thing about the medications I take, the Lamictal and Pristiq, is that the Lamictal is a blue pill and the Pristiq is a red pill.

Every morning I get to make a choice, and choose both. Why couldn't Neo have just done that. Well, it could be because he's played by Keanu Reeves, and any type of outside thinking is just beyond that lumbering jackass, or it could be because the movie just wasn't that good to begin with. I mean, the first one was decent at best, but after that I feared for what little intelligence I have remaining.

I've always feared that whatever it is that I'm taking will make me some kind of zombie trudging through life not knowing if I'm hot or cold. After several horror stories from people I've spoken to, as well as a witnessing a close friend go nearly comatose every time he takes a certain pill, I wasn't the most willing.

But one thing I've learned in life, at least for me, is to do the opposite sometimes. That beaten path still has potholes where you can twist and ankle, and if that might be a while before you get saved.

But in doing things I never would have thought I would like to do, I've met some great people, seen some awesome places, had some really amazing nights, and maybe discovered a lot more of myself in places I wouldn't have ever thought to look in the first place.

And it's strange; you would just naturally assume that where you would find yourself is where you're attracted to the most. And don't get me wrong; I've found a lot of myself in book pages, movie screens/divid extras, comic books and music, most specifically punk rock.

But asides from the latter, most of those are easily singular activities. And the latter, not only do I not really know anyone in my remote vicinity with the same tastes as I have, I never really fit in at the shows, period.

So how do you choose to percieve your reality?

My reality prior was one where I had a bunch of imbalances, and instead of starting at the place I should have in the beginning, I tried to use pennies to balance rocks, and more often than not I spent more time rearranging the same amount of pennies while adding more rocks. It's foolish, too, because during that whole time I could have just nipped this in the bud and focused on what was truly important.

But I'm still young, and it is so far from too late. So I'm lucky to've swallowed my pride.

And in doing so, I feel more focused.

I was so worried about being this zombie; Just eat, shit, work, fuck, sleep, repeat. That's what I worried about these pills doing. Losing whatever minimal amount of creativity I may or may not have. But in just saying screw it and taking this chance...I've realized a bunch of things:

Being so scared about only existing to "eat, shit, work, fuck, sleep, repeat" by accepting theres something wrong, I never realized that that was already exactly how I was living.

I'm more focused and less prone to panic attacks and all this other stuff. So instead of focusing on where I can find a tall enough cactus to hang myself off of, I can focus more on where I want to go.

I feel like I'm more creative, and pensive about it than I was before.

The confidence I'm beginning to have kind of bothers me a little bit. Like, "What the hell?" Where did it come from? Is it misplaced at all?

Don't get me wrong, I've always been a pretty cocky little fucker, but cocky and confidence aren't always linear. I'm not prideful, pride is the reason we're all facing certain doom, but I take pride in the things that I do, or am working towards.

I've taken major steps towards my five year plan. Part of that plan entails doing a comic book with someone (I can't draw) and I may have found a few people who may be willing to take me on, I'm waiting to hear back from them. But even if this doesn't pan out, I still have faith I'll find some one soon.

Sometimes you just know things, and can tell they are gonna happen way before they do. I'm especially good at this, and right now I can only see positive things in the future panning out. So I'm stoked about that.

So here we go.

-Until tomorrow.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter...sometimes thats just the most comfortable place. (102)

The anti-depressants so far, have seemed to have a pretty positive impact. I can't say I'm at all upset about being on them, but I fear that's mostly a biased opinion seeing as how I no longer want to blow my head off every moment.

I finally got into the show Chuck, on NBC. I cannot stress how much I want to make mouth love to Sarah Walker. Maybe that's too much information, but eh. Whatevs. I do what I want.

Part of my five year plan is to open up a business, which is kind of opposite of what most people expect of me. But like I said, I don't want anything to do with how I am right now. I want to be everything I'm not. Sometimes that's where the greenest grass lays.

I'd like to own a bar. Not a dive at all, but far from a club or anything pretentious like that. I think I'd prefer a sports bar, and manage that while I pursue my other dreams I want to accomplish.

I just wish I knew how to go about getting the line of credit for it. Mines not exactly the best, and I don't project in five, or even ten years to have the type of collateral they require for such a venture.

But a bar makes sense. A bottle of Jack might cost about 34 dollars, charge five bucks a shot, and you've already recouped you initial cost. Apply that to every other liquor, have cheap prices on beer, etc...I just think it's a wise venture to go about.

I think above all it would just be a lot of fun.

I think it'd also be amazing to own a bookstore. Or a music venue, but that can actually be incorporated into the bar or bookstore as well.

Who knows?

If you could own any business, what would it be?

-Until tomorrow.