I am torn. I am torn between two worlds, and the worlds seem to be in direct conflict. One world has me just doing what I do, ala Seth W, the other is sort of this pursuit of a space, and all of the rest, ala this website.

Either way, it seems at odds. My buddy Newman and I talk about tools all the time. I love talking about tools. I am a podcaster and writer, so tools are something I love. But, at the same time they are not important at all. What is important is the capture of the story, not the means with which I capture that story. No one cares that I used a lossless marantz solid state recorder instead of my Nexus S recording app. No one does.

They care about the story. Yet, I find myself in a constant state of internal discussion of the best means with which to get work done. I like exploring work flow for multi taskers, and as a result I am a bit of a app whore, and ideas consumer.

Ultimately my time with this comes from a time spent out there, and having to do a specific thing each day.

And as a result, you had to have a screwdriver, and a schedule. And so you needed these tools, and that is how it was. So, its a balance between the home office as utopia, and the backpack as home office. I think.

If you wake up and you cannot take a step from falling down, you are constantly sick to your stomach, the world is spinning around you, and the only temporary relief you have had in the last couple of days is sleeping for about 30 hours, then yeah, welcome to vertigo.

Vertigo is a distress of the inner eaer, and the means with which our body orients itself in space. Right now, these devices are out of whack. This started for me at about 2 pm in my bosses office on tuesday. I struggled to get downstairs, then I struggled to get home. I went to the emergency room that night, where they kept me for a few hours, the symptoms slowed down, and they sent me home.

A few hours later, by Wednesday morning the symptoms were 1000 times worse. I was in real pain. I went back, and this time the visit was 8 hours long. It was horrid. Pills, shots, all sorts of nonsense. You come away thinking that if you have not broken a bone, there is no point in going to the ER. None. They do not diagnose or seek our specialists care. So, I was there for 8 hours.

I got home about 6 pm, went to bed about 640 pm. And slept until about 8 pm the next day. Then I went back to bed until about 11 pm, and now I am up. It is about 4 am.

The valium and mex a something have been working. As has the longest time in bed ever.

But, more than that I realize I have two model for working. One is the Seth W model, and the other is this minimal model. I think that while they are in the same street, these are two different guys. One is do your thing where you do it, the other is create a beatiful simple space and do your thing. I think they are different.

But, I am high on vertigo. So I might be wrong.

I have not always dug the joy of disconnection. I have to go to sleep, so this is going to be short. The late nights makes the pool impossible.

So, it looks like my old friend Scott is without management now. Either he split with Joe or Joe split with him. I have no idea. No one tells me, and to be honest, I am not sure it matters. I think it is cool that our friendship ended during the Joe period, and my old friend has made no effort to reconnect.

But, he is a musician.

I do feel bad. I thought Joe was on the right path with Scott, and good things were going to happen. But, I think the joy of disconnection allows me to think what I want to think.

I remember fighting with Jackie as a young man, and I would say things like YOU MAKE ME FEEL SMALL, and she would invariably respond with I DO NOT MAKE YOU FEEL ANYTHING, YOU CHOOSE THAT.

I hated that. With a raw seething passion. I just got madder and madder.

But, tonight I feel small, and I am not sure I would have chosen this path. You see some of my friends, or people I think of as friends have been absent and nonresponsive to our friendship. I fight the urge to say that this makes me feel small. But, I do accept the fact that I feel unimportant.

What I thought was a significant friendship is not one, and that hurts. When you think of someone as a good and close friend, and the reality of that is not that this person is a good and close friend, well that is brutal in its awakening power.

I thought these cats would be my friends for real. For a while, through thick and thin, and in appearance, they are not my friends through medium. I have reached out to each of them over the past couple of weeks, and directly ask something or directly asked for some sort of emotional support.

I got no response.

This is the shit of humanity, you are told, ask me for what you need, I will listen and try to help. Then, you ask, you formulate what you need, you create an objective request and you ask it, only to have the question ignored.

This applies to big and small stuff. From, I need someone to talk to about being upset at work, to hey can you call me back. It is sort of the same thing, it is me saying PLEASE I NEED SOMETHING.

And the world saying, no, but thanks for asking we are going to go on with the things we view as more important than you Dino.

And you wonder why Black Flag still resonates with me.

I know the world exists, and I know people have lots to do. But I also know that people are more than willing to ask me for something, and for whatever reason I at the very least respond to the request. Maybe I should just stop.

But, you know what happens then, remember the whole I am not going to call someone thing in which I decided to not call anyone and see who called me. Then, sadly, no one called me.

I think if I do not try to be your friend, you will not try to be mine.

And I feel small.

Sometimes I get the chance to do amazing stuff, like go to a UFC event. Which I got to do this weekend. A friend does contract work for them, one of his perks is passes, and he could not make it so he gave them to me, and I went. It was awesome. It was a rather high level perk, so it had to get cleared with the UFC people, and it did, so I get to thank them.

Getting There.

This was an amazing thing. If any of you are familiar with the ERIC THE PILOT story, this is that story. I live in Wausau, Wi, and while there is CWA airport, there is also Wausau Downtown airport. Which is sort of an airport, and sort of not. Well, I got to fly out of this airport, on what can only be called a small plane. Me, the pilot, and my bag. How it came together happened at other peoples desks, so it was fine. Trust me when I say, its cold. Be glad your packed like sardines in the crappy planes you are.

The Town

Clearly I love Vegas. I love love love it. It has some of the best food in the world, and it is totally just an adult theme park. The whole thing is there, sex, drugs, gambling, rock and roll, sex. And now fighting. I am no rookie in Vegas, but I had never stayed at Mandalay Bay before, so that was something new. It is a great hotel, I had a great suite (thanks friend), and the people who were there to assist me were top notch. I travel alone, so I get to do what I want. So dinner friday night was Roast at my favorite Oyster Bar, and I ate 2 of them. Then I went and played poker for a while. Then I went to some of the UFC events and met some people. It was great.

I came back to my room to find a folder from the organization with things like times and locations of events. So, Saturday I did some of that.

I went to two sort of functions. At the one I got to meet my favorite fighter Anderson Silva, and I got his autograph, so sue me. And at another I stood in line to shake Dana Whites hand. He was shockingly cool. So, while I hate how he runs his business, that dude is cool to me.

I got to meet a TON of fighters. I talked to Urijah Faber, and that was cool. I dig his Eat Like a Champ deal, and over all his whole vibe. Shame about how his whole team has gotten its asskicked by Dominic Cruz or Jose Aldo. But, that dude is going to be the Donald Trump of MMA before this is done.

I ran into Roy Jones Jr. as well. Roy is my favorite athlete of all time, so seeing him again was great. Years ago I made a pilgrimage to Pensacola to meet him, and with a little reminder, he remembered the weird white kid who showed up at his gym.

Meeting fighters is amazing. I had hoped to meet Ben Henderson, but no luck.

The Event

First off, let me be clear, I have been to some huge boxing matches in my life. So, I am not new to boxing, but this was a totally different level. This was so loud, and big that it made boxing look like a poetry reading at your local Caribou Coffee.

There is nothing cooler in my opinion than not waiting in line, and having some one walk you in to your seat. That is amazing. I got to sit on the floor in a section behind some of the MMA fighters, and close to some of the movie stars. Again, I felt weird being there, but who cares. I met the people around me, and it was a great group of people. The older lady to my left explained the significance of the walk out shirt, in thesis level detail. Which I found lovely.

The fight lasts for hours. And for the first what seemed like a dozen fights, no one was there. It was like some sort of under card thing. A lot of us came and went, got drinks, spent time in a lounge sort of place.

But, once the TV fights happened, the place started to fill up. Joe Rogan got huge applause. His partner as well. Anytime anyone saw Dana White the place went nuts.

The undercard fights and fighters that were not on TV were all amazing. Guys just coming to fight, essentially like minor league ball players, trying to impress someone and get to the big show. The thing that was amazing though was the distance between these guys skill level, and the skill level of the main card guys, it was barely the same sport, but still super cool to see guys learning on the job.

The Koshcheck thing…the guy is a cock. Seriously, that finger poke thing, that was real. It was amazing to see that up close. He was like a ninja with that shit, but it was really hard on Pierce. I do not get the appeal of Josh, but sadly I could care less.

Big Country and the Other Guy…Werdum or Verdum or whatever. It was bad because these two were probably giving each other brain damage. The shots were loud, and you could feel them in the front rows. Big Country looks like your drunken uncle fighting a whole bar of people, but that guy can go. You wonder what it would be like if he lost 50 pounds, but he might not be the same man. Either way, when The Other Guy did the thing with the pointing, I thought it was funny. The Other guy was bad on the mic, and came off self centered, but by that point no one cared.

Diaz and Condit. This was an amazing fight. Nick is one of my favorite MMA fighters, and his approach as documented over the years is something I really dig. I think him and John Fitch are two of my favorites for the approach.

I thought the fight was totally unsatisfying for me. Condit ran around for 5 rounds, like Sugar Ray Leonard against Marvin Hagler. Clearly the plan was to avoid engagement with Diaz, but I have to tell you that MMA is about engagement. You are in a cage, so you HAVE to engage.

I was completely disappointed with the result, as were thousands of people there. Honestly this decision was the worst ever. I had it 4 to 1 for Nick Diaz. But, if we take out my bias, I would conceed 3 to 2 for Diaz. But, I would not say 4 to 1 for Condit. Condit did not engage aggressively, or effectively.

He never hurt Diaz. And clearly Condit did not want to fight in the 3rd round, he had no desire to come out and fight. He was just sucking wind.

Look, if the direction of the UFC is going to be a catch and release sort of nightmare where you can point yourself to a belt, then honestly this is uninteresting for me. Clearly Dana White has a man crush on his golden boy, GSP, and does not want anything to happen to him. What happened when Tito was hurt? Was Tito in the prelimary promo videos to other fights while he was on the shelf? No, but Dana White clearly LOVES GSP, and cannot let his golden boy go. So, he inserted him into the Diaz Condit promo material. This was a classless thing to do by the UFC.

I suppose that Condit thought his chicken shit strategy through, and executed it perfectly. He knew the best way for him to win a fight with Nick Diaz was not not have a fight with Nick Diaz. So, thats what he did.

It was embarassing that the UFC gave him the win.

I hope Nick does not retire. I think he is a great fighter, and a great story. I like being a fan of his, I think the ideas created by his fighting, his interviews, and the things he talks about are cool and worth talking about.

I had a great time in Vegas. I went back to my room and relaxed for about 40 minutes, then I went out to a few parties. These were amazing. I saw a few old friends from California life.

But, it was up early, 6 am flight out. Thanks to the folks who helped make my time out there so cool. The staff at the UFC events are top notch. The Mandalay Bay people are amazing.

I have to be proud of myself right now. I did a full five mornings in a row at the gym. More than that, I spent all five swimming. It was not far, and certainly not fast, but it was every morning. And I feel different right now. I do. My body feels longer, and lighter. It is strange how the immersion in water changes how your body feels on a really basic level.

And the other thing, I am super excited to get past the shame of it. I mean I am a chbby, nay, fat guy. So, taking the old shirt off in front of others, not good or fun. But, I knew I wanted to swim and have wanted to swim for a long time. So, I just simply had to bite the bullet and do it.

It was not that bad. I am sure that the lifeguard kid, I was one, was thinking that the fat guy is going to drown or have a heart attack. I thought so too I suppose. But, eventually we are all just people swimming laps at a rather crappy pace.

The one sort of stand out thing, board shorts. I bought a new swim suit, and it is board shorts, the length and flow of them is upsetting. I sort of have to get used to it, I feel like they come off all the time, and they do not. So, that is strange.

I am very proud of myself.

So, I am 41. I was in my college relationship through college and graduate school. Just recently I am pretty sure I burned that bridge completely. You see, I was so scared of college, and in a lot of ways myself, I just struggled horribly with the reality that my relationship was a nightmare. She was a horrible partner, and for the most part a pretty crappy person.

I fostered this by not standing up for myself, and accepting tiny, and sometimes not so tiny concessions to both pride and some sort of equal footing in the relationship. Bear in mind, I have not, not even as a young man thought of a relationship as some sort of score card or power position. I have never thought that. It is not that, no matter how you look at it.

A relationship is an act of faith. You commit to someone, and they commit to you. You have to have faith in that agreement. You respect your place, and understand with a willing set of views what the dynamics are. At least I do.

Well, in this relationship I did not do that. i was so far from that it was amazing. I was just a helpless, in so many ways, hang on. Early on, like year 2 there was a conversation about how this had no future. That set the tone of the whole deal. I think she took on the position that while it was nice to have me around supporting her, and what she needed, it would be okay to cut me loose anytime.

This idea flavored everything.

During this time she spent time with other guys when I was away, or sometimes when I was home. She did this not with a blatantness, but she hid it from me. But, invariably I found out. Her friends or others would tell me, or things would be left about to indicate what was going on.

I never said anything. I did not know how to identify myself without her, and would not know what to do. I had bothched my college experience up to such a degree that I was barely a college student, I was just an employee of the relationship. It feels so good to write this.

I do not think she was bad, no wait, I do think she was bad. i think she was indulgent, and mean, and self involved. I think all of these come from a nightmarish mother, and horrid choices. But, I think she made choices based on the horrid conversation at the 2 year mark that excaerbate that.

I just went along, based on fear. I was a nightmare too. But, I own that shit.

So, we split and it was a horrid split. I was gone one summer, and she told me she fell in love with some other guy and we were done. It was a lingering fall apart really, I was done with school and she was in grad school, and it just kept going and going through the separation. She would say we should be done, and I would counter and essentially beg for it not to be over offering some sort of token of effort. And she would accept superficially, all the while apparently falling in love with the guy.

Toward the end of grad school prior to the final end, she went no these placements in clinics. One was in Lawrence, one Ann Arbor, and the other up north. Inevitably she would get lonely, and beg me to come. I would think this a great opportunity to rekindle our relationship, and set things right again. And we would do what couples do for a week, huge physical intimacy, lots of cooking and eating and walking and talking.

Then like on the 5th day, she would again revisit the need to split up. You see, she had her needs sated, and I was free to go. It was horrible. I would drive or fly back home so angry. But, she would be fine, she had defined her terms, and felt fine as long as she did not mislead me. So, it was okay to make out, as long as she did not say I love you. Or whatever.

Then somewhere along the line she met the guy she would marry. Which is fine. The problem was she and I were still lingering. So, that means there was shitty overlap.

Even worse, when she made the decision, she asked me to meet him. And I said yes. So, he and I met at Perkins in Schofield one morning for Omelettes. No idea why she would ask, nor why he and I would agree. I have no idea what that was.

The break up was not clean, and there was was some back and forth, but eventually it was done.

Years later she reconnected with me, and we talked on a weekly basis. She was clearly in some emotional distress, and was using me as a friendly supportive voice. And I agreed to it. I thought the past was the past, and why should I hold onto the anger. Though I held it tight. To be honest, I am sure that my relationship with Angela suffered horribly from it. I should apologize to Angela.

SOme point in the conversations she said that she felt she was cheating on her husband with me, and I laughed, but could care less. She lived in DC, and I had not been in the same room with her in years. So, this was laughable.

That lasted a few years. AFter that we spent two days with each other. One prior to our 20th class reunion, and another when she came and visited.

This brings us to now. We had a little friendship developing, but it was a horrid one. She would call me for support with her life, or whatever. Email me, text me, all of that. But, if I ever called her, she would not answer, and not respond to texts. So, it was on her terms, and one way.

This was not fun for me, because I want my friendships to be both ways. If I want someone to talk to, I would hope my friends would answer the phone from time to time.

So, I got miffed. Not angry, but I found myself not answering when she called, not texting her back. Not really caring about it. I felt like it was a waste of an open loop. So, I just decided to ask her if she cheated on me. Because, I knew she had. So, I just asked a specific question, and she of course said she did not.

I responded by saying I had known for a while, and that if we were going to have a friendship we needed to at least be up front with each other.

I would like to be her friend, if I felt like we were actually friends. but, I do not think we are friends.

Sometimes you just need to say it, no matter how much you do not really want to. Sometimes that person is not actually your friend, does not have a care in the world for you, and does not give a toot.

I just had to clear it up for myself. And I liked myself more after.

I have gigantic insomnia. It comes from a life time of chasing live music throughout the night time. Well, it kills some people I suppose. I have fought hard to move past the insomnia. I just wanted to become a morning guy.

That being said, it is not easy. I use medication, and diet, and all sorts of ritual.

I stop eating about 2 hours before I want to go to bed. This is more about the morning, and the strength of the gym, but it works.

I wash my face with warm water, and this cool nutrogena stuff.

I shut the TV off, and turn off 3/4 of the lights. I pull out my kindle, and start reading fiction. Always fiction.

About 30 minutes before the desired in bed time, I take 6 mg of melatonin.

Then I put the kindle down, and go to bed. I do not read or listen to music in my bed room. So, it is just for sleeping.

Dear Erik,

I consider you a friend.  More than that I consider you really talented, smart, driven, and more than capable to be exactly who you are, and who you might someday want to become.  I also take massive issue with the two things being different.

Did you know right now you make your living making art?  I am just saying.  You are not sitting around making turquoise and shell jewelry all week to sell at a craft fair for gas money.  You are making narrative, and you are killing it.  You are taking brave leaps, huge projects, and you are doing it with massive success.

I know nothing of the film making business, save for the decade in LA when I was surrounded by it, but paid no attention to it.  But, you are doing better than just about all of my LA friends who do roughly the same thing you do.  As far as I can tell.  Sure, you have geographic limitations, but you over come those by creating more of your own art, and making that happen on your own terms.

I was pretty confused by your blog post, I could not tell if you felt good or not good.  But, let me say this, if at some point in the future you give this up, no Jack Bauer style wife/fiance will stop me from kicking your ass to get back to it.

Yours is a talent and passion that is worthy.  Is worthy of fostering, and insuring that it maintains its forward movement.  It is why I spend time trying to put you together with others.  Even if it is not film making, maybe something inspires you, and from that good things happen.

I believe in your talent.  More than that I believe in you.  I know you are great now, and will only eclipse what I expect.  I believe in you.

Mike Vallely / By The Sword live at 2HH from TedNewsome on Vimeo.

So, regardless of my thinking Sullivan had the smartest advice ever, I did what I did. I confronted an ex about some cheating that happened decades ago. I just simply asked in an email if she had ever done what I know she did. What got to be fun is the act of doing it. The act of standing up for ones self in the face of this crappy act of another, no matter how removed I am from it. And clearly, I am not all that removed from it.

And in awesome fashion, she denied it. That, I suppose, was to be expected. And for me, completely irrelevant. The act of asking the critical question, the accountable question of her, is a sea change in the relationship. One that is empowering for me, and that is the key to this.

I do not NOT want to have her as a friend. But, I want us to have a playing field, and this thing felt significant. So, even if it is years later I said something.

I would have preferred an apology, because that would have made me feel like it mattered in some small way. But, the denial is a great signal about what the friendship means to someone else. Simply a irrelevant part of the day, so that is that.

It is incredibly liberating to stand up for your self, even in small situations.