Because I Dream


So I decided to be a writer of sorts.   Very late in the game.

I write now in part because it makes me happier that I do.
And hopefully the reader would be too…when I get my better work out there.
And though I’m not a successful person, I can’t quite say I’m pretending.  (And so unsuccessful I’ve nary (never) the money to donate so Cristian can have his own computer.)

Where I fail to create in real life I may on the page.
Being unable to grow (’cause of my isolating environ) doesn’t stop me from writing about growing characters.
Being unable to have children (’cause no one lets me into their heart…and then some) doesn’t stop me from writing about a couple who have one.

Of course it’s very difficult making it realistic.  But I’ve always been an observer, picking up on things.  I can plot and spot errors.  (Documentaries help too.)

I actually don’t want to follow in the footsteps of other writers, making obvious fiction.  I read The Fault in Our Stars in June; boy is that—despite the technical realities—unreal.  Teenagers that sound like John Green.  (It’s still a good book, though—deserving of its high popularity, even now.)

I want to make something that the reader thinks is real so I can get them to feel something…to be involved and welcome, and to dream too.

Ultimately, I write because I dream.
The hope in my dreams is often so much stronger.
I am there, to a degree, more free.  And when it benefits, all the better.
I can aim for a wonderful perspective.
Too often it’s been a “dull, gray world,” loaded with denial, menial work and poorly executed ethics.

But our dreams always open opportunity.  They push ourselves to conquer our fears and…well, hope.  It helps us in writing our own story, whether or not we acquire the skill(s) to put it on the page.

I know one of my dreams helped me in school— er, summer school, that a story I wrote based entirely on a dream I had.  A hand sticking up in the middle of the floor.  (Yes, strange.)

So go ahead.  Jot your virtual experiences down.  You’ll find that they’ve aided you in some way.  After all they are inspired by actual events.  (And “inspired by actual events,” like the movies, inevitably makes them ‘fiction.’  The Quiet Ones is not a great movie.)

Love v. Fear

If I were limited to giving one piece of advice, it would be this:

Act on love, not fear.

Fear may work its way into the fabric of substance and identity.
But fear is always the slower, as it is spiritually lower.
It works as an indicator, to say, “something is wrong.”
But in action, fear misleads.

Giving in, fear turns to anger, hatred and despair.
Its stress causes damage.
Its distress causes things to fail.
But love lifts you up.

Love isn’t mere emotion; love is what bonds things in life.
Love is spiritual oneness.
Love is instantaneous when allowed to breathe free.
In action, love melts all the badness away.

Loving life responds with it.
Validating one’s existence, say, “you’re worth it.”
Without so much words.  With hugs, maybe.
While organisms need it, love itself asks nothing in return.

Love is trust.
Love takes you where you need to go.
While fear distorts, love always gives something on your behalf.
While fear machinates, love is immediately caring.

Love is the difference between a life fulfilled and a slow death.
Love isn’t always comfortable, but it is always warm.
Sometimes it amounts to a little death, a la petite mort.
On that note, it eventually leads to more love.

And more love, and more…
And when you feel it, you don’t want it to end.
While fear kills and can make you want to die…
Love makes you, me want to smile and cry.

Review: Man of Tai Chi

“You are nothing,” Donaka Mark says, to “Tiger” Chen.
“I am nothing,” responds Tiger, ready.

Man of Tai Chi

©2013 Universal Pictures, Village Roadshow Pictures, China Flim Co. Ltd.
Produced by Lenore Syvan and Daxing Zhang
Written by Michael G. Cooney
Director: Keanu Reeves
Action Director: Yuen Wo Ping
Director of Photography: Elliot Davis (Thirteen)
Editor: Derek Hui
Running Time: 105 minutes
Budget: est. $25 million U.S.
Rated “R” for violence
Stars: Tiger Chen Lin-Hu; Keanu Reeves (47 Ronin); Karen Mok; Yu Hai; Simon Yam; Ye Qing; and Iko Uwais as Gilang Sanjaya


In Keanu Reeves directorial debut, Tai Chi, a system of physical exercises utilized for meditation and self-defense, becomes a weapon of death when an underground kill-or-be-killed fight club emerges.  Tiger Chen, a student and public Wulin Cometition champ, is up to fight—not for personal gain, but in the effort to save Master Tang’s (Hai) historic temple that dates back some six hundred years or more.

By day, Donaka Mark (Reeves) runs a securities firm, Security System Alliance.  By night, he runs a pay-per-view death match.  And inspector Suen Jing Si (Mok) is on the case, against the wishes/orders of superintendent Wong (Yam).

Tiger is warned by his master not to blur the lines between power and control, but Tiger, corrupted by Donaka, holds on to the illusion.  He would come to find out that his life’s been under a microscope—hidden cameras everywhere.

Backstory Brief

The legendary Wo Ping worked his magic when stuntman Chen worked with Reeves for The Matrix (as Reeves’ trainer).  Years later, Chen came to Reeves on collaborating again, for this project.  Chen conveyed director Reeves as a man with a lot of homework, taking notes, to the total size of a large stack.

Over five years was spent in the making of this film, total.


Geared toward a more general audience, the plot is simple, and the dialogue is short.  Almost all of the Chinese text has adjacent, in-film English translations.

The action is well-performed, and the acting is convincing, especially with Chen.  For Reeves, Donaka Mark is his most serious role to date, as a stone-cold psychopath, to the point of maniacally grinning while being punched in the face.

Elliot Davis performed his specialty in capturing the emotions of the characters, the sweetness between Chen and his paralegal love interest named Qing-Sha (Ye Qing), the response when Chen came to see that his opponents would nevertheless die, as a black-masked man would enter to “finish the job” with a snap of the loser’s neck.

The martial arts genre is partly known these days for fantastical/legendary feats, making use of wire effects for great scenes commonplace.  But I found the two big Chi moments unreal—as if (and as with The Matrix) you’re able to push people across the room with Chi energy without contact.  (Of all of the footage I’ve seen on extraordinary uses of Chi, contact’s always made—even with the “One Inch Death Punch,” as demonstrated in Stan Lee’s Superhumans, converging a host of body energy to one fist.)

Overall, this film brings a nice display of Tai Chi, but fails to really add anything else.  It pales in comparison to The Grand Master, which brought a number of forms of painstaking martial arts to the screen, with an intent of historical accuracy.  It was easier for the two lead male characters in Man of Tai Chi, already having years of experience.

That isn’t to say this film was easy to make.  But script-wise, its supporting characters are cliché, its plot is too simple and wrapped up too easily.  Grade: B-

No More…?

Always easier said than done— “no more.”  “No more, will I live like this.”

Yeah, so I tried creating a Facebook page earlier in the month.  I created another email account, I liked the Supernatural page.  And then, the next day round, I couldn’t get back in.  No mobile number, no govt.-issued ID (basically, no life?  too bad.).  So… one like on Supernatural and that’s it.  So far, the account appears deactivated, so I’m not sure if the Like is even there now.

No more?

Yeah, so another part of the plasterboard ceiling came down.  The section right above me where I sleep.  The upside out of this: it didn’t come down on me, it landed nicely facing the door to the room, beside the bed.  The downside: I can’t sleep in that bed anymore.  The contaminated leak water is dripping on my pillow.  I must sleep in the other room, with a bed that hurts my back.

I mentioned the collapsing ceiling issue before in 2012.  And, stepping to take half of the plasterboard that collapsed outside, the floor before the front door went through; you can see the basement.  “How poor, there’s a hole in the floor!  —Watch your step!

I hope people get the trouble I’m in.  And I’m trying to tell this without fear.

This whole time… in a sort of captivity.  And oh, we’ll be moving to an apartment, my mother says, with her normalcy bias and the rotting house; I wonder what decade that’ll occur in.  Fear… Sorry.

Before things started all physically falling apart, for years I’ve been alone in this house.  To the detriment of my mental health—no friends, not even conversation.

If ever a time I needed someone to talk to… it would be all these years, and now.  Once I finished High School, there was nothing, no one.  Get it?

And I let Eric and another Eric down.  (Strange— similar first names.)  I rejected so much out of fear, and it literally kills me.  I ignored/forgotten people altogether… what should I have gotten but people ignoring/forgetting me in return? (I need to grow, but people seem to just let me down, and I guess I’ve taken it out on possible friends.)

Oh, you know it’s bad when the only live conversation I can get is Big Brother: After Dark.  This season isn’t bad, though; CBS/TVGN allowed Frankie to respond to a letter he got, last night—the death of his wonderful grandparent, with the same name.

The house I live in— this evil house… keeps me tethered.  Like a low-grade evil, affecting the inexperienced, the vulnerable (i.e., me).

I can’t change much, and I can’t grow without help.  I want to, I need to.  But even a no more stance… what’ll that do?

What’s in the cards?  Can you…insert cards that shouldn’t be there? Wait, that’s cheating.  …Wild cards?…


…But after all this, all my hell, there is still reason.
There is still and always reason to believe in optimism.  (But you still have to raise your standards!)

Short Takes—Fun and Not So Fun

Adult World (2013)

Written by Andy Cochran; directed by Scott Coffey (who also stars as the store owner); produced by Alex Goldstone, Joy Gorman and Justin Nappi
Stars: Emma Roberts (Celeste and Jesse Forever), John Cusack (Perks of Being a Wallflower), Evan Peters


Amy Anderson (Roberts), an aspiring poet with little life experience, having racked up a load of college loan costs, is basically kicked out of the house by her parents; forced to find a job, her journey is severely limited by the fact that her only significant skill is: writing.  Amy reluctantly lands a job at a Mom-and-Pop adult bookstore.

Upon seeing one of her favorite writers, “Rat” Billings (Cusack) at a book signing, Amy eventually follows him, with the help of “Rubia” (Armando Riesco), to his house.  Obsessed and persistent, Rat gives in, in a way, accepting her as his protégé (but really, as his maid).  Things come unglued as Amy takes herself too seriously.

The actors pull it off well.  It’s not as iconic as Perks…Wallflower, and it doesn’t do much as far as bringing original ideas to the table, but the execution is great.  Besides having a plot that doesn’t call for much, there’s nothing unappealing about this film in my mind.  “Amy” may be full of herself, but Emma Robberts makes her so damn cute!  You can’t help but like her.  (At least I did.)  Grade: B

Authors Anonymous (2014)

Written by David Congalton; directed by Ellie Kanner; produced by Kanner (EKZ) and Hal Schwartz; Cuoco and co-star Bennet also served as executive producers
Stars: Chris Klein (American Pie), Kaley Cuoco (Big Bang Theory), Teri Polo (Meet the Parents), Dylan Walsh (Nip/Tuck), Tricia Helfer, Jonathan Bennet and the late Dennis Farina (Law & Order)


A.A. is a comedy in the form of pseudo-documentary that starts with an unpublished writing support group, hosted by a married couple.  Hannah Rinaldi (Cuoco), a girl that had never read much or written, is accepted into the group.  Henry (Klein) has a crush on her.

Meanwhile, optician Alan Mooney (Walsh) appears to only put ideas into a memo recorder; his wife (“Colette”/Polo), an “aspiring writer,” can’t write.  Sigrid (Helfer), a German immigrant working at a hardware store, supports the delusional Tom Clancy wanna-be (and possible future husband) John K. Butzin (Farina) to the point of lying.

Bruised egos over substance, the group fails to take the news well when Hannah suddenly gets published and beyond.  Unrequited love, betrayal and resentment, drama and separation ensues.  It ends with a new angle on what the “documentary” is about.

It starts off strong and real, but the plot unwinds in a scripted-comedic fashion; some of its elements, as the movie advances, are detailed or portrayed unconvincingly.  The film was obviously low-budget (an indie released in theaters April 18) and could’ve used more improv and less acting.  Grade: C+

Some Girl(s) (2013)

Screenplay by Neil LaBute; directed by Daisy von Scherler Mayer.
Stars: Adam Brody, Jennifer Morrison (House), Emily Watson, Zoe Kazan (Ruby Sparks), Kristen Bell (Veronica Mars).


A writer (Brody), published in a magazine for his realistic relationship stories, has actually been basing his stories on experience.  Now engaged to a young med student, he decides to ‘patch things up’ with his former relationships.

Multiple stops, second-hand smoke (“Tyler”/Mia Maestro) and a slap to the face (“Sam”/Morrison), as “Man” advances with each location, more is revealed about the guy, that there’s more than what meets the eye.

Groan.  It’s acted well, and it comes off interesting, but I could tell it was written by one person, and a male at that, writing all the female dialogue.  The British wife (“Lindsay”), whose acquaintance with “Man” was an affair, despite Watson’s accent had much the same written dialogue as the American women, plus a “bloody.”

It’s contrived like a stage play because it’s based on LaBute’s 2005 play, with Reggie (Kazan in this film adaptation) having a final say with a kiss (that is a woman kiss).  Please.  Grade: B-

Red 2 (2013)

Written by Jon and Erich Hoeber; directed by Dean Parisot; produced by Lorenzo di Bonaventura.
Stars: Bruce Willis (Die Hard), John Malkovich (one of three producers, Perks…Wallflower), Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds), Helen Miren (Hitchcock), Anthony Hopkins (Silence of the Lambs), Catherine Zeta-Jones, Byung-hun Lee and Neal McDonough (Justified).


A hit is ordered on Frank & friends are set up and made out to be Nightshade participants, domestic terrorists.  They must fight for their lives, and…well, save the world.

Marvin Boggs (Malkovich) claims he, Frank Moses (Willis) and girlfriend Sarah Ross (Parker) are targets, and attempts to fake his own death.  Jack Horton (McDonough) interrogates Frank anyway.  So after being set up, the three, with targets on their backs, walk right into the setup, seek “The Frog” (David Thewlis), team up with their assassin and eventually break out the mad scientist (Hopkins, Jolygood!) behind the infamous and undetectable thermonuclear Red Mercury bomb.

Twists and turns, shots and explosions, jokes and gags, this “family friendly” sequel (PG-13) packs an f-bomb with its Red bomb, versus the R-rated original film adaptation inspired by the Red comic book by Warren Ellis and Cully Hamner.

116 minutes in running time, some of the not-so-high-quality movie moments could’ve been cut, especially the “Karma’s a bitch” line.  (Seriously?)  Some of the gags are unquestionably funny (e.g., Frank yelling at Marvin, “Stop cutting wires!”; Sarah running, shooting up a ceiling with a big smile on her face).  But the film is written mostly for its action, and its actors are tired.  There are so many stunts in the film that, in the credits, not only were the stunts separated by location, but the largest block of names is HUGE.

It’s fun to watch if you’ve the time to spare.  Grade: B

3 Days to Kill (2014)

Written by Luc Besson and Adi Hasak; directed by McG (Supernatural); produced by Besson and Hasak, Ryan Kavanaugh, Marc Libert and Virginie Silla.
Stars: Kevin Costner (The Upside of Anger), Hailee Steinfeld (True Grit), Connie Neelson (Gladiator) and Amber Heard.


A CIA agent (Costner) is informed that he has brain cancer, spreading to his lungs.  The agency dismisses him, but a woman (Heard) keeps him active as an assassin.  With the little time he has left to spend with family, he accepts a kill order.  His reward: a drug that could cure or delay his cancer, so he could spend Christmas with his wife and daughter.

The film is detailed like a ludicrous comic book.  Why is it that a young, attractive woman hired this guy to do her dirty work?  Why a French albino as one of the lead villains?  And a Philanxifor-like drug to cure or abate the ex-agent’s cancer?  Magical.  An ear-splitting explosion, gun shots, an undeveloped backstory, a car chase… …Zzzzz.  You know it’s not very good when you start to ask: why was this made?  Grade: C

Slaves of Masters

Prepped and primed and polished,
they cannot pen themselves
a book without a ghostwriter,
dense paper & glue for the shelves.

What is to say they cannot think
outside ’the realm of politick?
Why need to meddle in affairs
better suited for the working stiff?

How would you spend your public time,
if not for wasting precious public dime,
’stead of picking facts
and the pockets of the pool?

How do we not feel like fools?
How do we represent
a country, free, eventually
robbed of every cent?

The workers of the land see first
such an incredulous totality of lies;
why, Yes We Can but won’t or can’t
be the master of our own lives.

Starting Over!


First, I would like to apologize.
Ultimately, I am sorry for what I’ve done and done again.

I said I’d delete this blog, but… there are too many dependencies, and there’s too much history…  In other words I care too much for some of the material here.

I have yet to forgive myself the things I’ve done over my life.  But I should never forget.  (And how could I, someone obsessed and so alone, that things move so slowly?)

So I won’t delete the whole thing, just individual posts the better me just can’t believe would ever be.

Since I started writing that novel I mentioned the last time—started June 4, things became clearer for me, personally.  I opened a world.  I killed a writer’s block (and, in part a life block) by simply extending a daydream, along the way forcing myself to think about my life in order to bring life to a fictional character.

At least the whole novel thing (32,500 words now) carries a better purpose than the mere desperation that got me to create this blog in the first place.  (Yes, it started out of desperation.)

Changes shall be made.

So, without a further pause, here’s my To-Do List.

  1. Kill ungenuine/unfunny posts.
    Est. time: “forever”
    In other words, be less ugly by way of (and this is important) being myself.
    I know, I know, it sounds impossible.  But I need to stop running from my problems, or otherwise expecting unsuspecting “readers” to solve them for me.  (I hate you guys.  I love you guys.)

  2. Change theme.
    Est. time: minutes done (and my, it looks better already! —even the depressing stuff!)
    Goodbye Notebook Theme, may you rot in hell (just kidding).
    Even though libertarianinmind is stuck with me as part of the web address, that LIMitation shall be insignificant in comparison.  It shall.
    Hello, and someone kill me The Dependent Independent.

  3. Be more open, Like more stuff of strangers.
    Est. time: easier said than done (and yes, I’m calling that a measurement of time; I’m the ref here, not you)
    See #1 on the bell-end issue of being less ugly first.

    π.  Add “This is is one of the worst things to ever grace the pages of WordPress” to first post, Thursday: Another Day.
    Est. time: pending canceled

  4. I need internet access.
    Est. time: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! (wait, you’re serious?)
    Yeah… this still, all the same, nevertheless isn’t something in my power, #ForeverBroke.
    This interferes with items 1-5.

  5. What happened to Eric “Le Clown” R.?
    Est. time: hey, this isn’t a to-do item! (too bad, Time Estimator)
    I am so far GD (goddamned) out of the loop that I still have no idea what happened.  In January, everything stopped and all but vanished, and my/others help in the transition to Better Blogging™ (which I took for granted) had ended.

  6. Create YA (young author) blog.
    Est. time: pending
    An area used specifically for writing, and an area that never puts politics in focus.  Writing: what I should’ve been doing since High School.  But #NoOneLovesMe :(.

Anyone else out there have a to-do list?  Care to add something to this list, even though you have little to no business in my affairs?

Becoming a Writer

Let’s face it.  Or rather, I have to.  I am a man, or rather a an adult child in isolation.

So… what else can I effectively do but put my dreams and daydreams into fiction writing.

So… I would become a writer in the process.  And probably certainly a bad one, at that, having no experience in…anything.  Aimless wandering, blahda, blahda.  An expert in empty conversation prose, I make a horrible writer.

So… that’s the downside in all this: I know nothing.  It’s the first step in wisdom — first, say to yourself, I know nothing.  But unfortunately, I still know nothing.

The upside?  I’m deleting this blog.  Reasons?

1) I hate it;
2) I hate it;
3) you, the audience hate it (and should); and
4) it was hastily created with a bad name.  No one likes libertarians.  And I’m an independent.  (No representation of anything whatsoever, of this accumulation of “posts”—145, to count.  No representation, at least, in consistency.)

The new blog (yes, creating another) will be private.  Maybe, someday, I’ll unlock it…

I’ve been writing a novel.  Novella?  23,000 words so far.  Far from the best thing ever written.

Well, have a nice Fourth of July.  The End.

Think Positive

This one’s a little in the style of Dr. Seuss.  Enjoy.  (Or not.)

Think positive, think positive, you or they may say.
But it’s easy, so easy for you to say.
A realist, I am, I say, each day
in my undeniable, fait accompli of ultra-flawed ways of ways.

A “realist” that, with never a drink,
at times acts drunk, or even act the crazy “optimist.”
To Be, and me, more comfortable in my skin,
instead of getting all outlandishly shy or pissed.

Why it sure takes a toll,
the disagreement, with you, with me, you see.
And how insincere, insensitive I really can be,
snubbing thee— another missed opportunity!

Come to stress, I digress.

You know, they always say, of you or I ought to
dream big, and bigger, and act on it, make it so.
But how would I, or could I, having
roughly the brain of a dodo?

Ah, but real confidence cannot come from ever really knowing.
But rather from the heart, the sleep,
living and breathing,
and definitely going.

A happiness, therein, you seek,
to work, respect and thereby, therefore inspire.
To utilize and move, and love and care,
and on the inappropriate side, only lastly desire.

If that were so easy too.

And lastly again, what’s taught, and thought
of what should be and what should not,
forgetting how things always work out in the end,
regardless of what you got.

For you see, to a degree, every one is flawed.
Honestly, complicated, but simple from the start.
As everyone counts, and everything matters,
well before being realized; there is always a heart.

To find understanding in those you hear
and in turn sing your own flawed song,
that to live and love positive would definitely mean seeing
‘not right’ more than ‘wrong.’

©2013-14 adamjasonp

Censorship Boycotts are for Cowards

cropped from source:
cropped from source:

Fighting injustice is necessary.

You voice the facts, you voice your opinion; you may attempt to correct the record, you fight.  But you don’t censor others in the process.

Free Speech means addition, not subtraction. …But tell that to people who don’t listen to logic, and worse, let hatred get the best of themselves.

There is that point where “speaking up” doesn’t work.  That is, when it’s not honest, not a reflection of Free speech.
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