The Spin of the Ball

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  • Post 41: Doubting Myself

    I was walking home tonight, having all kinds of spiritual thoughts. I wondered if there was any need to share them with others. Perhaps I could just keep them to myself and live my life embodying them. Pass on the ideas that way. But then I thought we must communicate for a reason, and surely it isn’t just to talk about the weather or the cricket or interest rates. I think if I share a thought about the mystery, I am testing it with the other perspectives in the universe. They might have something to add. And I’m interested in what they might add. That’s new. I used to want to play both parts of the conversation. Imagine if we are all giving each other clues about the mystery. As someone said, perhaps we are the universe trying to understand itself.

    I would normally be spending my downtime playing video games or watching sport replays, but right now I have been drawn to the keyboard by mysterious forces, sharing thoughts for you to add to, or challenge. If you want to communicate with me about mysterious things, my email is jlohalo38@gmail.com.

    I think I might be God. If you say that to people in Australia they will be very concerned and may suggest that you have a psychological assessment. However, if you go to India and say “I am God” they will probably say something like, “Big deal, so am I.” I think I heard this in a podcast or read it somewhere.

    I got a haircut the other day. My barber is Iranian and we talk about the mystery. He’s very humble yet also interesting. I told him that I think I might be God and he said that in Farsi they have a word, “khuda”, which essentially means we are all God.

    Well, thanks for reading, God.

  • Post 40: Where Joy is Found

    Life Update: My latest worldly goal is to buy a PlayStation 5, so I can play with one of my best friends and enrich our relationship. So I thought I’d better stop buying unnecessary things. Unfortunately, I got bored and bought some cigarettes. I think I can still make it work. While I smoked, I had a good phone conversation with a long time friend. We reminisced and probably talked about a lot of the same things, but I’m beginning to realise that the things I talk about don’t really matter. The connection with another person is what matters. I think it comes through in the tone of voice and the time you give. And making the call in the first place.

    Cringe: There are all these cliches, like “Love Conquers All”. Sentiments of love. Cringeworthy sentiments. And maybe you have been programmed to cringe. Yet perhaps the way to enjoy life in this world is to go against your programming. Let the cliches in. And if you accept the cliches, people may ridicule you for being cringe, and this is a test for you. To not care. To see the ridicule as a plea for love. And to give it.

    Dream: When I wake up from a dream, I realise it made no sense. Perhaps I am comparing it to this dream. The dream we dream together. But if I wake up from this dream, will I think it made sense? I don’t know. A world, seemingly held together by maths, where everyone is, in a sense, created equal, although there are some really attractive people and some really ugly people, and many of us are more likely to be nice to the attractive people. And many of us assume it’s better to be attractive. And then there’s money and apparently it’s better to have more of that. And maybe the trick is to unthink all of these things, and maybe that is where joy is found.

    Help: What if the universe is not indifferent to you? What if it is always helping you, but in a way that makes you think you are doing it all yourself?

  • Post 39: Being Weird

    Cigarettes: I got home from work, drank some prosecco with orange juice, and played a game called Vampyr. My favourite part of the game is collecting things from bins (for crafting). Especially when I’m drunk. The clock hit 9:30pm and I wondered what to do with the rest of my evening. I decided to go for a long walk and buy some cigarettes. In Australia, they are really expensive, and you can’t buy mid-strength anymore. So I bought some very strong ones and got quite dizzy. I found myself outside a house with Christmas lights.

    Neon Lights: I inspected the Christmas lights closely. My favourite is the blue colour. I remember going with my sister to her best friend’s house when I was about 6 or 7. I stared at the blue lights on display in her living room. Trippy. Now that I know what LSD is like, it was kind of like that. Seeing a neon light. Really seeing it. My sister’s best friend had a much older sister who was in the kitchenette, laughing with her friends. “The mums are being silly,” I said aloud. It was the first big laugh I remember causing, and I didn’t know why. I try to make people laugh sometimes, but the biggest laughs seem to happen by accident. That is my favourite memory from my sister’s best friend’s house. Others include playing Kung Fu on the NES, watching Supergirl (1984) twice in one weekend, and pretending her wardrobe was a portal into a magical world with fairies.

    Weirdness: When I was a schoolboy, I was often made fun of for being weird. Sometimes I didn’t mind but most of the time it bothered me. I wanted to be normal. I’m still weird and I still get triggered sometimes, but mostly I take it as a compliment. I’m doing my dance, not theirs.

    Making Friends: I’m learning that if I want to make friends, or keep them, I must let my guard down. If I do this, it lets the other person know that it’s safe to let down theirs. I won’t wait for them to do it first.

    Crap: I’m getting more comfortable with writing crap. I don’t think it’s crap but you might read it and think, “This is crap!” If that’s the worst that can happen, I’m ok with that.

  • Post 38: My Holy War

    Singing: My last post ended with me about to do karaoke. It was great. It really turned things around for me and my mood. I was going to write a whole post about the joy of singing and put a little song at the end. However, the song was garbage. The singing was not genuine. It sounded like I was being very careful. So I will keep my singing to myself for now.

    Jihad: I was walking home from work just recently. I usually look upon the crowd on Chapel St, searching for flaws. That person is too loud, that guy looks like a jerk, etc. But today was different. There were fine people everywhere I looked. People with their own complex stories. Loveable people. I accepted them all. I couldn’t help but think of the word “jihad”. To some, this word means “inner struggle”. To others, a literal holy war. I prefer the first meaning. I am no longer searching for conflict. If I hear people arguing about something pointless, I don’t feel the need to chime in, even if it’s to say the argument is pointless. For that is an argument. I don’t watch the news, not because it stresses me out but because I have no interest. The inner struggle is being resolved. Does this mean I’m about to die? I have been feeling a bit tired lately. I don’t have any loose ends to tie up. I don’t need to see my ex-girlfriend again. I think this is it.

    Love: Let’s say I’m not dying and there is still a love story coming my way. I’ve decided to stay in the moment and not think about it anymore. Not think, “Is it her? Or her?” If I can just stay in the moment and focus on loving myself, the story will unfold. I have been loving myself lately and I have noticed my life changing in a good way.

  • Post 37: The Beauty of Suffering

    Suffering: I am going through some suffering at the moment. I can’t say why. On paper, life is fine. Perhaps I wrote this story for me and I thought that I’d want some suffering at this point. I tell myself, “This is what you wanted, right?” And it helps me enjoy the agony. I accept it. To fight against it is futile. But I fight for a time until I give in. And it really isn’t so bad. As I’ve written, it gets boring when everything goes right. And when I emerge from the suffering, joy becomes more enjoyable.

    Suffering 2: Having said that, it sucks. I like to think I have the cure, in the words above, but I still have to endure it. After I endure it, I keep thinking it won’t come back again. People say to call a friend, or hang out with friends, but it’s Tuesday night. I don’t want to bother anyone. My computer stopped working. Probably because I built it myself. So I’ve been wandering around my apartment, trying to feel the full force of my existential crisis.

    Suffering 3: I still have my laptop. I could play some 90’s games on that. But maybe I don’t want to do anything. Just be. Maybe I need to learn how to be. This is an opportunity.

    Singing: As much as I like the lolly shop, I really like to sing. I would love to be on stage, making people feel emotions. My computer has started working again so I’m going to do some karaoke.

  • Post 36: The First Split

    A Friend: I was just outside, getting some fresh air, and a possum stopped along the fence to look at me. We gazed into each other’s eyes until I got a bit scared and the possum wandered off. Maybe the animals are starting to trust me. As I got my fresh air, I bemoaned my lack of a friend. A friend you can call at any time and they will answer. I had that once with a guy 20 years younger than me. I think he’s in Europe now. But then I remembered yet again that I have me. I’m always here to answer the call. I haven’t felt like talking to me much lately, but not to worry. I think we will work things out.

    Movie: I had an idea for a movie. It starts off as God, or whatever you want to call them. Whatever it is that is Everything. And Everything has no one to talk to so they decide to split in half to make a friend. The First Split, as it were. Two Adam and Eve type characters who live in a log cabin, and it snows or rains or suns. Whatever the two agree upon. They live in harmony and everything goes right. But eventually they get bored with that and decide they want some hardship. So they go to their magic typewriters on opposite sides of the living room and craft stories for each other. Stories that the other must live out, where they forget they are Adam and Eve. Stories with trials and tribulations, where they learn how they came to be harmonious. Stories about love. All the different kinds of love. Ultimately, the kind of love that works. Since I don’t yet know about love that works, the idea ends here. I’ll let you know when I’ve learned more about love. I am collecting data.

    Heroin: Today I imagined what I would do if a divine apparition came to me and said, “You have 3 days left. Shark attack.” I still probably wouldn’t try heroin, just in case the apparition came back and said they were kidding. I went through a phase in 2021 where I believed I was having divine visions, and none of them came true, so I don’t think I will fall for that again.

  • Post 35: Dear Diary

    Dear Diary,

    Something strange is happening to me. I don’t like to brag but my ego seems to be shrinking. I’m pleased about this. Lately, I’ve been seeing my life as a comic strip. I can see what I’d look like if this were a story. It’s a Robert Crumb style comic and I can see when my character is acting in an unkind way. I want to act kindly and the comic helps me to turn things around.

    Another change is that I’m getting better at hanging out with friends. I always thought I had to impress them. To prove my worth so I could retain them. But now I’m learning to give everyone a turn. Give more room for the other characters in the comic. That way, I have more energy and I can attend more events. Yesterday, I watched Wicked For Good with two friends. I had a great time. I enjoyed the company of my friends in the cinema. I cherished them. I realised that all I had to do was sit there and watch. Sit how I wanted to sit. Watch how I wanted to watch. Is this what being human is like?

    Tomorrow, I go back to work. I’m looking forward to seeing if my new attitude towards life continues. Work sucks, they say, but maybe it will be a good comic strip.

    Now it’s time to sit on my favourite chair and watch the documentary about Jim Carrey playing Andy Kaufman. I might not watch the whole thing. Lately I’ve had the idea to sit on my chair and not watch anything. I talk to myself or an imaginary friend. I use my mind to go somewhere else. A treehouse in the rain. I love hanging out in the treehouse. I get a really nice feeling when I’m there. I listen to the imaginary rain and spend time with my imaginary friend.

  • Post 34: Words 2

    I’ve just arrived home after a 40 minute walk from the tram stop. I bought some cigarettes and smoked three of them on the way. I thought I would write a sequel to my post about words (Post 23) because I enjoyed writing that one. I thought of some questions and ideas and I carried them home with me, where I am now.

    When a singer finds their voice, they are capable of sharing a real emotion with the audience. They seem to transfer it. Perhaps a writer can do the same when they find their voice. I’ve got some thoughts and questions that might help me find my voice.

    When I write, does each sentence flow into the next? I believe the choices I make in my sentence structure affect the flow. Do I want it to flow? Maybe it doesn’t need to flow, or flow smoothly. A river is more interesting when interspersed with rapids.

    And when the writing flows, does it flow the way you want it to? Can you teach flow, or is it an instinctual thing? A good singer has instincts that they use to shape the phrase for maximum emotional impact. You want maximum impact, don’t you? Maybe you don’t, and maybe you have your reasons. When it comes to teaching writing, I imagine you let the student know that they have choices to make, and if they have the awareness to consciously choose, they have more control over their voice.

    But control might be over-rated. You could be a natural writer who simply throws words on the page, allowing the choices to be made unconsciously. Perhaps that is more authentic. Perhaps all that matters is that the words reach someone and enrich their life. I was going to write “perhaps all that matters at the end of the day…” but I decided I didn’t want the cliché. I don’t think that is a good choice or a bad choice. It was my choice.

    What I do is I write the words and then ask, “Am I comfortable with my choices?” It’s like going shopping for clothes. You try the outfit on and ask, “Am I comfortable with this look? Is this me?” I think that last question is profound. Is this me? Who am I? I think being you is desirable. As I go along this journey, I am more inclined to want to be me. It seems shopping for clothes, like writing, can be an exercise in understanding yourself.

    I have made many decisions so far in this post. A lot of deleting, re-writing, re-structuring. I won’t bore you with any more examples. I think that is where the joy in writing lies for me. The decisions. The trusting of instincts. If I could just pour the words out of my head, for them to assemble themselves perfectly, there would be no activity to pursue, apart from the pouring. Would a chef enjoy their work if they just poured the ingredients onto a plate? Even those who enjoy pouring might be dissatisfied, for no matter how they poured, the result would be perfect.

    I’ve reached my word limit. That’s enough words for now. I hope they reach you. But if they don’t, that’s ok. Perhaps they will reach me.

  • Post 33: She Could Appear at Any Moment

    I want a relationship with a woman to such a degree that I feel destined for one. I have this new thing I tell myself whenever I’m impatient with life. I say, “she could appear at any moment.” When I say this I feel such relief. I don’t have to do anything. Except exist. I can do that. Exist and she may appear. In the store, at my door, in my inbox, anywhere, anyhow. What a thing!

    Before I came up with this, I spent the day thinking about my ex-girlfriend. I have many fond memories but she probably doesn’t. I was a terrible boyfriend. Really bad. I was an insomniac at the time and I made her sleep in the other (inferior) room on a single mattress. In retrospect, I should have taken that room and mattress. But that is far from the worst of it. The worst of it shall remain in my private diary. It hurts to write this but she almost certainly isn’t coming back. And if she did, it would probably be weird.

    So that’s how I spent my day. Thinking of how good she was and how bad I was. But I turned things around on my train trip home. I imagined that I was God and that I’d created all the characters on the train. I admired the beauty in each of my creations. I could see past the imperfections that Josh would detect and get caught on. I could see Josh. Just another character in the story I wrote. “Don’t worry Josh, there are some good things coming up in the story,” I said.

    I’ve been watching a show called Northern Exposure. It’s from the 90’s. Back then, my parents told me I was too young to watch it, but I always kept it in mind. I’ve finished the first season and I’m loving it. The characters and world are so charming and interesting. My favourite character so far is Chris, the radio DJ.

  • Post 32: Next Lesson, Please

    At work with nothing to do. Where’s the lesson? I want to learn the lesson. Give me the lesson! Is it patience again? I’m not good at that one. Can I please have a different lesson?

    There is a lesson on repeat and it is: can you find peace in the present moment? Sometimes I can, but mostly I’m preoccupied.

    Perhaps the lessons are on how to use your mind. Use your mind to help you enjoy now. Choose heaven or hell by how you use it. I think there’s a puzzle to be solved in the mind.

    I’m most present at work. It’s the only way to get through. My days off are where I struggle because I’m meant to be having a blast. If I’m not having a blast then something must be done. Alcohol or something. Perhaps the solution is not to see free time as better than work time. They are both lesson time. Peace is attainable in both times.

    But maybe I want free time to be better than work. Maybe I’m not ready for them to be the same. Maybe I’m not ready for peace.

    Where I am. What I’m doing. This is what I need. This is what I need to grow.

    Is there something you cannot accept? As long as you cannot accept it, you won’t wake up. This whole thing seems so real, so convincing. But maybe it is only a game. A game where you must see yourself in everyone and everything and to accept what you see. I was watching the NFL the other night and I just couldn’t accept one guy’s face. One of the coaches. But eventually I saw myself in him. I really didn’t want to so it took a while. I can accept his face now.

    What does it matter what your life looks like, if it feels bad? You could be looking at the Sistine Chapel and feeling terrible, or you could be sitting in a prison cell, feeling amazing.

    I think I’m a writer because I write. Not because I’m considered a writer by others (which I am not). But it’s just a word and it doesn’t really matter. I think the key is to do what I really want to do. If I do this, people may respond to the energy I emit because I am fulfilling my purpose. And when I interact with others at parties or whatever, I will be at ease, knowing that I am fulfilling my purpose. And I will enjoy life.

    Finding purpose later in life may seem inconvenient, but it may also be like waiting until you are freezing before stepping into the hot shower. Glorious.