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  • Late Night Journal 09-22-2022

    September 22nd, 2022
    Saskatoon at night

    That’s Saskatoon, Canada.

    That is one of the settings for the novel I’m working on.

    I don’t know whether this is the first time you read me or if you have already read me before, but in either case, I’ll tell you, I’m an engineer (as in computer engineer) who’s taking a big gamble in his life by seriously attempting to become an author.

    This blog is a stepping stone, and the story I’m working on is another; I hope you keep reading me and buy my book once it’s out and that you love it, because it’s slowly baked but crafted with much care and dedication.

    But maybe, like I often do in these “Late Night Journals” I just want to share a piece of my inner world, maybe vent or just confess my feelings and thoughts full of thorns, that root deeply within me, and pluck them out during my confession.

    Fuck man, why do I have to get all fucking poetic when I just want to blog xD

    Why are poets typically regarded as silly? I see real power in poetry.

    OK in any case, it’s been like ages since I don’t post a late-night entry, what’s going on with me? I’ll tell you what, my life is not a line, but a constellation. One day I will expand on this.

    But I want to come back and start doing this more frequently, I need it and it allows me to connect with you. You see, I get lost within myself for seasons, I start exploring things that need fixing, or that need attention, or simply engage in another difficult piece of my grand project which I’ve been working on for over 2 years now and I anticipate will continue until I die.

    What’s that project you ask? I won’t spoil it by explaining it, it’s a work in progress and you will see it for yourself when it’s ready, I promise.

    I’m listening to Low Roar right now, and believe it or not, that’s the happiest music choice I was able to make at this time of this day specifically. I’ve been a bit blue if I’m to be honest, for no specific reason, just out of being depressive.

    I’ve told you Low Roar is one of my favs, haven’t I?

    I’ve been thinking about aging and death. I’m 35 but I’m also a very dramatic person with very complicated emotions, in about 1 month I’ll be turning 36 so effectively been 1 year into the second half of my life and that’s just freaking terrifying for me. I’m not shy in confessing that I’m afraid of death, and even with that, I consider myself a stoic and I hold “memento mori” as one of the dear principles that help me appreciate life and live more fully.

    Paradoxically, this awareness of the subject of death also combines rather toxically with my oscillating depression. I’ve been listening to a podcast on Carl Jung lately, it’s called “Digital Jung” by Jason E. Smith; if you’re in your 30’s or later I’d seriously recommend it to you: https://open.spotify.com/show/7llKTskyo8kDCaLG91IFGK?si=a2a8951156de41b5

    This show is worth every minute spent listening to it

    So listening about the pursuit of meaning and the more reflexive attitude other people adopt around my age kind of calms me down a notch and reassures me I’m not especially damaged. And some of you will say I’m still young and shouldn’t be this concerned with death but here are two things:

    • Being afraid of not living fully; that’s a key concern, more than death itself. Looking back and not being able to be satisfied with my ability to make the most of this ride, to do meaningful things, to be a candle in the dark.
    • Being afraid of actual death: not that I think it hurts or something, I mean, it’s entirely possible that it does depending on how it happens but I’m afraid of letting go, of disappearing, and becoming a memory. I’m afraid of futility because I know life will simply move on, and my importance or impact is very limited, even if I get to be reputable or famous.

    So maybe I’m not afraid of death, maybe it’s just the parameters of human existence that anger and hurt me, maybe I’m dealing with pain more than with fear.

    Sorry, I told you I was feeling blue.

    At any rate, I’m making a huge effort to live through these feelings without resorting to denial. It’s easy to resist the truth, I don’t believe there’s anything easier than to console yourself with a lie.

    I also feel like needing alcohol or opiates, or just some powerful distraction. But I’d rather write.

    I’d rather double my efforts to actually keep building a life I find meaningful on my own terms, and just throw myself headlong into experiencing it with its struggles and joys, its uncertainties and blessings.

    I believe this is not resorting to self-deception, but all the opposite, it’s traveling with eyes wide open. And the old man Josue will regard his 35-year-old version as the architect of a much more acceptable version of death.

    “Memento Mori” motherfuckers
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  • Reminiscence

    September 20th, 2022

    I disappear.

    It’s just something I do, I need to.

    I can’t handle it all, while showing my face and speaking my mind.

    Not all at once, a day is not enough, and a lifetime certainly isn’t.

    I need to travel inwards, and bring the treasures from the dark places I visit. It’s how I print my soul into this world, it’s how I shape chaos into beauty, so that you can smile.

    Because I want you to smile, my heart longs for your relief, for your peace, for your inner light to become a beacon of hope, grace, and love.

    So, I disappear.

    And when I do, I remember why I do this and it fills me with courage, to uncover the veil that hides the dreadful shadows.

    You see, my morning’s gone now and sunrise is but a distant memory,

    with it, the raging fire gave way to a quiet rain

    that’s much smoother as it shapes a creek,

    but the longer it falls, the more abundant the waters,

    until it’s irrigating the forests and giving life to the thirsty animals

    and the lonely wanderers.

    It’s a river now, a river that brings with it the inevitable life,

    the light that imposes itself without violence, in a quiet beam.

    I disappear, but I will always return,

    until the day I won’t because the work is done

    and so, my evening comes.

    On that day, take all of my treasures and share them,

    build a home for the broken,

    and remember me, not by my wounds,

    but by the honest love that blossomed from my pain

    for I always disappear

    but we will meet again.

    Josué V. – 09/20/2022

  • Cultural Deviants Coffee Club: The Journey Continues

    August 25th, 2022
    Cultural Deviants Coffee Club – Animal Farm: Session 3 [1/2]

    Some months ago, when I started developing a lot of concepts and putting them in writing, one of those projects I published about was the “Cultural Deviants Coffee Club“, and I just went back to search for that article and realized it was in July, so recent! I can’t believe it’s so recent because it’s been very intense and tiring, but very rewarding as well!

    The first series was a two-part analysis of “Fight Club”, the movie and we’re currently in our third session of analyzing the book “Animal Farm” by George Orwell. Good old, raw cultural and political commentary as the work in question is.

    I have to say, I’ve been an entrepreneur in the past and I know how hard it is to build something from scratch, this jjosuminded concept is not only this blog, but also a lot of work in social media, it’s my personal brand, my thoughts and my attitude towards life that I’m presenting to the public as a gift: a big part of who I am. That alone is emotionally very burdening, and the work it entails is certainly an uphill walk; I decided I will make it work, I will put in the hours, weeks, months, and years. I will make it work.

    Cultural Deviants Coffee Club – Animal Farm: Session 3 [2/2]

    Learning from the younger

    I have made interesting discoveries while working on my project, and by the way, these are not only product of working on it but also of my own personal work and reflection; you see, I dedicate a lot of time to think about what I think, what I believe and what my perception of things is. Partly because I want to ensure I’m building a strong thought structure that I’m communicating and partly because I want to ensure I remain open to be wrong and learning new things as I build; you need to leave room for improving, fixing, and expanding.

    I don’t consider myself an old man, I’m a 35-year-old daddy, so that’s an undeniable testimony that I’m not that young any longer, but there’s I believe, a lot to do and a long way to go. Yet I’m old enough to recognize the vast differences between my generation (millennials) and the next ones in the queue, nowadays young adults: Gen Z.

    Man, I love that I learned to be less opinionated with time and more receptive, because pride and stubbornness can deprive you of huge learning opportunities, such as learning from the young! Twitch is the centennial playground (or one of them) and to me it’s a true wonder, not only as a platform (hats off to Amazon) but also as a community-building space. And the fellows, the streamers, man I wish I knew them before! They’re SO CONFIDENT, they show no fear, no insecurity and they won’t be easily bullied. I love them!

    Of course, this is generalizing, but there’s a set of traits of each generation, I can also realize things they need and risks they have, one of them is being unaware of the existence of such. I really want to share with them what I’ve collected throughout the years and provide them with tools to take that boldness they have and make actual positive changes in society and become a fucking rockstar generation.

    And don’t get me wrong, I feel that for the most part, I love my fellow humans regardless of their age group, and so on, and I’ve learned so much from boomers, gen-Xers and my own millennial peers; I also believe I’ve helped quite a few of them when they’ve needed it and my content is a 100% for you as well. But maybe because of the transition I’m living, the awareness of my growing older and being a parent for 7 years now, and the uncle of a 20-yr old, I start thinking of young people with a certain tenderness and a willingness to share with them whatever value is in me. I guess that’s only natural, to think about leaving a legacy when you feel you’re getting older.

    How is all of this connected?

    I don’t know, lol, sometimes I just feel things and will write them down, I guess I’m learning from GenZ to be more exposed and give more of a fuck about how adequate that seems.

    By the way, and also using that new superpower, here’s my LinkTree link to all my social media: https://linktr.ee/admin. Follow me there, I’ve met a lot of beautiful bloggers here and I need a push, I’m working very hard, and not reaching a lot of people, but I know this will change soon: be a part of it!

    With love,

    J.V

  • Late Night Journal – 08/24/2022

    August 24th, 2022

    Headaches, dreams about to come true, and the value of discipline.

    Fuck man, I have to say, my life won’t be normal but sure as fuck is entertaining and full of things xD

    See, I’ve been working hard, for many, many years in finding myself (I know this is vague and cliche) but yeah, too many years. You may feel this is a stage of life but it’s not, let me explain: you easily get to spend all of your hours on Earth and never come to understand what you are, how you are, what you want and what you’re willing to do for what you want. It would sound like it should be a basic premise of any given person but we’re presented with a lot of surrogate sources of distraction, entertainment, conflicts, stress, etc, that for too many, that moment of self-reflection never actually comes.

    This is one of the things that I hate the most about modern life, and part of my personal quest is to find a way to show people how important their life is, how full of potential, and how they’re able to break the cycle of a cookie-cutter, pathetic existence.

    The “value of discipline” mentioned above is closely related to this previous reflection; ever since I was fired from my second job, I took it upon myself not to get another job, even if I feel like I really really need or want that extra money I was used to earning. Instead, I would take a set of activities that I have identified as leading me to build my personal life strategy (yes this is something and it’s been written in a notebook for two years), and take them with the seriousness of that second job, or even more because one is about money but the second is about meaning. And it’s hard man, it’s fucking hard, I’m dying every day in a good sense and being reborn; studying the disciplines that my plan requires, and experimenting with uncharted intellectual and artistic territories every single day after work and after exercising (which is part of the change) is taking a bit toll on me. I’m tired, and I’m in a lot of internal conflict and uncertainty, I’ve left the shore and set out to discover the unknown.

    Probably that’s where the headache is coming from; no, most certainly that’s the reason why (note to self: buy some fucking aspirin).

    I haven’t mentioned the “dreams about to come true” part, I know, I know. But as rational as I try to be, there’s still a more primitive man inside of me who’s superstitious and I’m afraid if I say it, I’ll jinx it.

    But I promise I’ll tell you when it happens, and I will link it to this entry 🙂

    Hugs.

    J.V

  • Late Night Journal – An Unwelcomed Visitor

    August 23rd, 2022

    Last night, an old enemy knocked at my door, very violently so, neither hiding his face nor disguising his voice.

    He smelled of moist walls, and of old, cheap wood; of rotting hope and dreams past due. He carried a bag, his intention was to leave it inside of my home, where I struggle to be born.

    This insidious gift was a generous serving of the harvest he can no longer bear, as it’s more abundant than he expected and more devastating than he would ever anticipate. This fruit and its maggots are the death of every winged creature and the doom of every child who struggles to live inside the likes of me.

    For a moment, I stretched my hand to turn the doorknob, for destruction is far easier than the journey ahead; for there’s a foe to blame and a poison to explain to myself and then others so they can later explain it to me again. For I am tired, and there’s a wild abyss ahead, and I could be the hero or just one more of the dead, in the womb of fate. For it seems safer dying at home and let it happen so, that it seems the thing most would call the way of man.

    Then I stopped, and I screamed with hatred and violence, and pain: “Accursed, go away! For there’s a land beyond the abyss and a torch to lead the way, for the glory of the hero is also the glory of the dead he finds in his way, they’re the bricks that lay the path of the brave, and their blood will never go to waste. Away with your living carcass and your prudent mask, for you who claimed to be wise, are the tomb of the unborn hero and the thief of every precious gift of light”.

    Josué Vargas – 2022

  • Late Night Journal 08-22-2022: The Resurrection

    August 22nd, 2022
    It’s time for wolves

    Listening to “Durdu Dunya” by She Past Away, a freaking awesome band.

    Now I gotta say a few things and I must write them in the next 10 minutes, so here they go:

    1. I told you I was gonna be back. The last time I wrote in my journal I was falling into depression and I told you about this issue of mine. I also told you I was gonna be back, and here I fucking am!
    2. The wolf: The wolf is no coincidence. I also wrote a while back that I was writing a horror thriller about a serial killer, and the wolf is related to this. Yet it goes deeper than just character building, I have found a very hungry wolf inside the writer himself, one that I won’t let starve for longer. But don’t worry the serial killer stays inside the book and hopefully in your darkest dreams 😉
    3. The whole thing and some decisions: I captured from my last downfall a lot more of what I intend to do with the rest of my life, and I’m working very hard on it. Building a presence in social media, building the artist in me who’s been buried in code for years is not an easy task, but I’m dead serious about taking this to the final consequences.

    I’m the forgotten seed, in bloom.

  • Attitude #1

    August 18th, 2022
    Site icon
    Attitude #1
  • Deception #1

    August 17th, 2022
    Site icon
    Deception #1
  • Thoughts 2022 – Defy #1

    August 16th, 2022
    Site icon
    Thoughts 2022 – Defy #1
  • Patterns

    August 16th, 2022

    By Josué Vargas

    Audio and Video Version of the Poem

    Patterns

    Alone at the sea,
    the air is salty and clean
    evil muttering has ceased
    and silent angels guard the scene

    It makes me think, and recall old dreams
    of childhood and sorrow,
    not that they’re a different thing.
    But that wound is also relieved

    By the playful battle of the rocks
    against the waves.
    Old friends,
    children of the centuries
    who never cease to pretend being unseen

    Oh if I would become a rock,
    become the ocean’s own
    that I won’t see love turned bitter
    and men become what they abhor

    For it is all laid down in patterns,
    seems to me, a cosmic joke.
    Not that it’s all gloom and wrong,
    but it’s all doomed to end, and everyone is doomed to mourn.

    But not the waves, they won’t,
    nor will the rocks notice
    when all you care about , is gone.

    Their game goes on, and on, and on,
    a mighty battle, just for fun.
    Pretending being unseen by
    the yearning eyes of those

    who would be waves and rocks but instead,
    are a wonderful dream
    between dawn and dusk

    Patterns

    Alone at the sea,
    the air is salty and clean
    evil muttering has ceased
    and silent angels guard the scene

    It makes me think, and recall old dreams
    of childhood and sorrow,
    not that they’re a different thing.
    But that wound is also relieved

    By the playful battle of the rocks
    against the waves.
    Old friends,
    children of the centuries
    who never cease to pretend being unseen

    Oh if I would become a rock,
    become the ocean’s own
    that I won’t see love turned bitter
    and men become what they abhor

    For it is all laid down in patterns,
    seems to me, a cosmic joke.
    Not that it’s all gloom and wrong,
    but it’s all doomed to end, and everyone is doomed to mourn.

    But not the waves, they won’t,
    nor will the rocks notice
    when all you care about , is gone.

    Their game goes on, and on, and on,
    a mighty battle, just for fun.
    Pretending being unseen by
    the yearning eyes of those

    who would be waves and rocks but instead,
    are a wonderful dream
    between dawn and dusk

                               Josué Vargas - 2022 Ⓒ
    
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