Little guys are fucked

• Analysts at major investment banks promote stocks they know to be worthless, misleading the investors who rely on their advice yet helping their investment-banking colleagues generate fees and woo clients.
• Ratings agencies slap AAA ratings on debt they know to be dicey in order to appease the issuers -- who happen to pay the fees of the agencies, violating the rating agency's duty to provide the marketplace with honest evaluations.
• Executives receive outsized and grotesque compensation packages -- the result of the perverted recommendations of compensation consultants whose other business depends upon the goodwill of the very CEOs whose pay they are opining upon, thus violating the consultants' duty to the shareholders of the companies for whom they are supposedly working.
• Mutual funds charge exorbitant fees that investors have to absorb -- fees that dramatically reduce any possibility of outperforming the market and that are set by captive boards of captive management companies, not one of which has been replaced for inadequate performance, violating their duty to guard the interests of the fund investors for whom they supposedly work.
• "High-speed trading" produces not only the reality of a two-tiered market but also the probability of front-running -- that is, illegally trading on information not yet widely known -- that eats into the possible profits of the retail clients supposedly being served by these very same market players, violating the obligation of the banks to get their clients "best execution" without stepping between their customers and the best available price.

• AIG (AIG, news, msgs) is bailed out, costing taxpayers tens of billions of dollars, even though (as we later learned) the big guys knew that AIG was going down and were able to hedge and cover their positions. Smaller investors are left holding the stock, and all of us are left picking up the tab.

Munch, my man! Have a beer, dude.

Which is the sadder scenario: a mother who has lost her child or a child who has lost his mother? Munch explores both with his paintings "The Sick Child" and "The Dead Mother and the Child". I find the latter more unbearable because a child has nothing except his parents (and often that means "the mother", even if the father is physically present) and lacks the reasoning to be stoical, whereas a parent often has a spouse, work, and other family, as well as cognitive powers necessary to subdue pain, rationalize loss, and look to the future. A child in despair is at one with his misery; he can visualize nothing but his anguish - it is past, present, and future. I hate seeing children unhappy. I think men are jealous of women because the female has a unique relationship to the child. Gestation is no small favor, nor is childbirth. The kid owes his mother, right from the beginning. If she breastfeeds, Mom gets top billing for the first six months. In fact, Dad doesn't appear on the marquee until the child is old enough to talk (we're so right-brained that we can't relate except in linear, rational terms), at which time junior's personality is already cast in stone, an image sculpted entirely by the mother.

Franz was a ladies' man

Similarities with Kafka:
1) Fantasize about exotic exile while hardly leaving home
2) Proud of Jewishness but non-practicing and ignorant of its language, customs, and history
3) Father abandoned Judaism in favor of economic expediency and relaxation of social stigmatization
4) Beleaguered by indecision
5) All problems seem monumental and insurmountable
6) Use self-pity as self-imposed straitjacket to prevent social interaction and decision making; also use self-pity manipulatively in relations with others
7) Stubborn
8) Suicidial impulses that cannot be acted upon because the courage to do so is lacking; if that courage were present, there would be no need for death
9) Largely unable to love a real woman, only a "disembodied image of needs and fears"
10) Demands for love beyond any hope of satisfaction; seek from friends and lovers what I failed to receive as a child
11) Uncomfortable in groups; most meaningful relationships are one-on-one
12) Morbidly sensitive to noise
13) Ashamed of body; hypochondriac
14) Wordly wisdom (ability to earn money, socialize at parties, conduct meeting, plan trip, drive car) and energy (active engagement in work rather than routine attendance, extracurricular and creative activities) inspire admiration for others and self-contempt; often give way willingly to infantile helplessness
15) Psychological malfunction can be summarized as conflicts between the unhappy child and the unwilling adult
16) See marriage as "the ultimate in social integration"; cannot imagine successful execution of responsibilities of fatherhood
17) Hated my job but desperately needed the structure it provided

Main Differences:
1) Lack of prodigious talent
2) No interest in doing anything, much less a passionate commitment to one pursuit for a lifetime
3) After I croak, no one will call my death "the unity of a pure soul with infinity"

One big issue

The Boddhisattvas teach that loneliness is something you should not run from. Think about it: you are born alone, die alone, much of the time in between you are alone, and there are plenty of times you yearn to be alone. Loneliness is something we are bound to feel because we won't always have friends available. If you examine the loneliness closely, you'll see that it is really very common, much more ordinary than frightening, especially when you know -- you know -- it will not last. After you see the loneliness for what it is, you have the peace of mind to go about your business or take a bath or read a book.

Stuck in the past

My father was Martin and my mother Dora. Brooklyn Jews. My brother is Michael. I knocked on his door when he was going away to college and said, "good luck." He replied, "Fuck you." That was the last time I heard from him -- it was 1975, I was 15. He went to the Air Force Academy, then law school, from which he graduated #1, then got a PhD. from Harvard. I don't know what became of him. My father occasionally hired a private investigator to find out what my brother was doing -- what his rank was in the Air Force, how many kids he had, which degrees, where he lived, basic facts. My father died in 2001 so the information flow stopped a long time ago. That's how my family kept in touch...it sounds weird and I don't want to go into details or you'll feel like a therapist and demand an exorbitant salary, but it's a good indicator of the person I became, isolated, fearful, often unable to form and maintain relationships. I'm also smart, funny, sensitive, loyal. I think I'm worth the effort because I'm aware of who I am and what's happening around me and I'm always considering the world and my role in it. But sometimes the news isn't good and I have trouble forging ahead with confidence or good cheer.

I remember my father as being very simple and gentle. My mother was a banshee and brother was angry and combative, yet my father was calm. Unfortunately, he could not control the situation, placate my mother or help my brother. The chaos escalated and eventually our family imploded while my father quietly sat by and did nothing, sort of like the Peter Sellers character in "Being There." He loved animals and was very kind and just wanted peace and quiet. I turned out like him, my brother became like my mother despite the war she continually waged upon him.

Another guy with mother problems

My mother was the antithesis of the stereotypical Jewish mother. For one, we didn't observe Judaism or even talk about it, it was taboo. I was opening Christmas presents before I knew I was Jewish. My father changed his name from Goldberg to Gilbert in 1946 and essentially denied being Jewish. My mother was not so strident but was not religious and worshiped money. She hated being married, having children and the housewife role. She was a lousy cook and I didn't eat properly until I was 17 and a friend's mother starting feeding me (my mother left the house when I was 15). She was quite clear about hating my brother, she told him and everyone else on many occasions. One time she called the police and told them to arrest him, take him away, I never want to see him again. Of course the police told her that they can't arrest teenagers who haven't committed crimes and that she was legally responsible for caring for him. There are endless stories of her war against Michael but like my failed quest for love, I won't lay the stinking mess on your table.

She was much less abusive toward me, I think she was even fond of me as a child, but by age 11 she had given up, considered me a nuisance with a bad attitude and was waiting for the time when she could walk away.

Message from an old friend

There was a strange coincidence yesterday, or perhaps I'm looking for synchronicity. I was watching a movie called "The Notebook" about love and loss of memory, paused it to check the mail and found a package by my kitchen door. Packages are usually left by my mailbox near the front door. I go in and out through the kitchen so this package was left in a more convenient spot than usual. It was from a high school friend that I haven't seen since '78 or '79. It had a long red scarf that he knitted "for the cold Wisconsin days," a small leather journal "to record my new life" and a bar of soap from a street fair. A nice care package. I thought it odd because one could reasonably call the journal a notebook, like the movie, and I haven't seen him in 30 years, and again the movie dealt with memory of events far in the past.

In the evening I did dinner/movie with woman from Fitchburg. Strictly platonic, just two lonely people seeking companionship. It was okay. We ate at a nice restaurant in Verona that had a 2-for-1 special on excellent burgers and sat on a deck overlooking a small creek. She suggested seeing "The Hangover" on the advice of her 16-year-old son and it was predictable but funny in the Judd Apatow vein -- male bonding, drinking and drugs, absurd hijinks, strippers. A guy film where they call each other "faggot." I laughed out loud but about half way through wanted to be home in my bathtub.

I could talk to a hundred acquaintances all day long and it would do less to alleviate my aloneness than five minutes with a close friend.

Why I can't sleep

There are two impediments to my sleeping: anxiety and nasal/allergy. My nose is fucked up, the surgeon said it's one of the smallest he's ever seen on an adult and that he couldn't fix it. I'm very allergic to dust and dustmites so I have trouble breathing during the night (tiny nasal passages + rapidly gathering mucus = obvious result). I often spend 10 hours in bed to get 5 hours sleep. That's why I'm such a fan of BBC Overnight.

I took hard drugs until I was 27. MDA, speed, LSD (maybe five times, never liked it), shrooms, blow. Tried smoking freebase and smack but couldn't afford them. MDA was my favorite. Sort of went straight at 27 but continued smoking weed heavily. Very heavily. First thing in the morning, before work, all day when possible. Started with valium and ativan four years ago. I was mostly smoking weed and gobbling pills in bed during my last 2.5 years in SF. Gave up ativan a few months before I left; smoked pot on 4/30 with my neighbors, my last night in SF, and haven't touched it since. Valium is my last vice (I'm not counting antidepressants, which were poisonous and no fun). I took five valium last night because I was still up at 3 and I wanted to hang myself in the basement. 17 left in the bottle. One way or another, I will soon be clean. In a perfect world, all substances would be legal and I'd spend my remaining years in a narcotic fog.

Even the president likes pussy

Who can blame him? This looks like good stuff and it's Italian.

Get a life

This is going a bit far. "Too Soon" for what? Jackson's career ended after "Thriller," which really wasn't very good anyway. Some of the Jackson 5 cuts are decent, but this guy is mostly notable for being fucked up. His main cultural contribution is to have led people to believe that music and dancing are the same thing, though they clearly are not. And what about the allegations of child molestation? Sure, he was never convicted, and we'll never know how accurate they were, but there's something funky about having young boys sleep in your bedroom when you are a middle-aged man. I know, he was tucking them in, giving them hot milk and cookies, but this explanation seems thin. Would you believe such justifications if they came from your spouse? The halo on the shirt seems awfully misguided. This guy was so mentally ill that he made Howard Hughes look like Deepak Chopra. I still feel bad about John Lennon, not a saint but a real human being with gleaming qualities and sharp scratchy faults, genuine wit, humor and compassion. As well as supreme talent. I never understood the Jackson phenomenon in the early 80's and its maintenance so many years later is baffling.

I'll say one thing though: the guy was sick and lonely, and for that reason I feel sorry for him.

What women want

They yap about wanting a sensitive, emotional man, but what they really want is six feet tall, muscles, long hair, tattoos, motorcycle and guitar. The sensitive guy is needed only as a sounding board for whining about how muscle man broke their heart. Being sweet and considerate won't get your dick sucked. It's the same thing throughout the mammalian world -- alpha males get all the pussy and the physically weaker ones get nothing. Strong, swagger, beer-guzzling charisma, this shit trumps intelligence and character every time.