18:11 pst
dind't play Call Of Duty that night; instead watched Up for the first time, which was delightful.


18:43 pst
What am I so afraid of?
Tonight I almost went to a community event. Iíve known for weeks about it. I was planning to go. I donít know or correspond with anyone there, but it would seem like a good way to meet some people who share my interests. Monthly meeting of the Vancouver Spore of
Evolver.net - this month is a biggie, 2012 counter-programming - in light of the Emmerich worldsmasher hitting theatres Friday, these sustainability-oriented folk have discussion and screening about the possibility of real cultural (nigh metaphysical evolutionary) change, what society in the future might be facing, and how we might prepare and grow an awareness community regardless of a possible end-date.

Anyhow I didnít go. All day it seemed less likely, deny this as I might, and I was almost surprised when Brad got changed and put on his shoes. I know I was determined to go, to meet these people, to get out in it. Have been avoiding my life for so long itís really time I jumped in.

But I didnít go. I walked by the building (4 blocks from my house!), circled the block. First there were people out front, a girl laughing, smell of pot. Then they are gone, and as I pass again a woman with long grey hair tentatively enters. There is a sign on the door, but it looks unrelated to our [!] event. I walk past, and walk home, wondering if Iíll turn around.

Am circling an ending here. Could offer any number of reasons for not going Ė Iíve read most of whatís being discussed already, Iím in no shape to meet new people, I donít want to meet new people, I can go next monthÖ really Iím just still avoiding engagement. What the fuck am I so afraid of?

I stayed home from work today as well. There are a couple things I could have worked on, but nothing that couldnít wait till tomorrow. And I only didnít go to work because the post office was closed. I wanted to mail a package to my folks (LOSTssn3&4), and so on my way into work went to the post office in Shoppersí (between my apartment and the busstop) Ė but it was closed for Remembrance Day. So I went home, to drop of the parcel. Decided to use the washroom, but think going in I knew I wouldnít be leaving again. Emaild the office and made a fried-egg sandwich. Figured not being tired from work would make it easier for me to go to the event tonight.

But I didnít go. Really could have met some neat people there Ė I donít really have anyone to talk to about these crazy interests, and really need to meet some people to progress I think. Yet at times this is such a struggle. Perhaps the struggle Ė together, or not. Cohesion or solitude. Does solitude equal nothingness? Not to the solitude. [to the isolated]

WTF? Just came out, apologies for possible pretension [on this site? Please]. Shit, there was an ending and it might be gone. Today was charged Ė jets flew overhead, dry and grey, and whole murder of crows was going nuts outside my building, dominating the trees. I was supposed to go to this thing and talked myself out of it. What am I avoiding in my social isolation? Judgement? Hurt? Iím thirty, for fuckís sake. Engage. Scoundrels and liars are everywhere, leading us into the depths. I could have made friends. I could have met a girl. Paralyzed by indecision, all my damn life. Engage. Even now, 8oclock, the discussion is still going on, just blocks from here. I will check and post this, smoke a joint, and play Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, a spectacular war game that fairly mortified me yesterday with its content. And I will feel guilty until well after 9oclock, when the even is scheduled to end but may well continue elsewhere.

This really is no way to live. ENGAGE!

The ending from before! Notable the headline below Ė ĎI know what I am. I know what I will.í Ė that shortly after posting the words coalesced into the direct and obvious ďI am what I will.Ē

Having studied the mystery so long [so short!], am I more afraid that my newborn understandings will be shattered yet again, or that they might actually be true?

Much Massive Attack of late, something there. Fear is the mindkiller, the little death. I will face my fears and let them pass through me. [Herbert]

Together or not. [not=nothing]



04:46 pst
i know what i am. i know what i will.



11:40 pst
crossroads, thinning
i work mostly in film and video post-production. freelance, tho largely for the same folks who gave me my first music video to cut back in '02. do some web, flash & print work, whatever comes my way really. specialty would be 'making it work' - whatever it is. mostly these days it is still commercial in nature, a necessity that remains unsettling.
offsetting commercial doldrums is accomplished through continued attempts at developing my own creative projects. pinnacle is the long-form narrative Red Robots, transhumanist pop allegory on consciousness and society. after a few false attempts to pre-define it, am now just trying to get the story out. is likely that the ideas and understanding going into the work would not have been viable to me were it not for this website.
is notable that so much or our folklore and myth transpires around crossroads and bridges - these being places in the world where the known and the unknown are heavy-tread, become well worn, thinning the fabric between our tangible world and the hidden one bubbling just beneath the surface. what then, of the internet though? known and unknown co-mingling, all pervasive and seemingly infinite, indeterminate from one another - reflecting of all perspectives at once.


20:51 pst
when i paint my masterpiece
i live alone with a cat in vancouver, canada. someday everything is gonna sound like a rhapsody.... one-bedroom on the ground floor of an old low-rise in kitsilano. not much decoration but some, tho needs shelves - stacks of u-haul cardboard full of books and other media. cat likes the cardboard, however.
ten years of this may chronicle inward growth, development away from the social. it's perhaps noteable that the week this blog began was the week i dropped out of university, choosing to document whatever it was that the unpaved road had in store for me. sometimes reason that had i stayed in school, i'd perhaps be better socialized, more in tune with other people. as it stands social darwinism occasionally worries me, but recognize that had anything gone differently i mightn't be who i am now, and i still do like this Brad mostly.
suppose there's an indulgence here, writing about myself, and perhaps this is one reason entries have dwindled. don't really think about [my|self|output] that much, despite spending so much time alone. am not sure ego is truly going dormant, and whether this is good or bad - suspect it clings some. perhaps the retrospective herein will lead to some clarity, progress.
it does seem like something is happening. dark and unstable the path may be here, there is still light.




22:35 pst
the unbearable badness of being brad
my name is bradley smith. i am thirty years old, one-hundred seventy-five centimetres in height, ninety-one kilograms. i have light skin, grey-blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, shaggy now with a year of beard.
ten years ago i started this blog. barely reminiscent of the present definition, it was at the time an experiment, an oddly public diary. i'm not sure what you'd call it now - website, i s'pose. it's off[odd] to look back at - ten years ago - it's a different person. selective history. footprints, breadcrumbs. what&where are we now.