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Spike the Punch

I am here for Dating, Serious Relationships, Friends and Networking

About Me

Now with italicized updates as DVDesque commentary! We here at Spike are proud to bring you the best in fourth wall/ violation.

If given the chance to summarize myself in four words, it would go as thus: "I'm a fucking mess."

Spike's Ironic Intellectual detachment:This is being said in the metaphorical tongue in cheekedness sense, as Spike is much less likely than the average undergraduate, much less hard core alcoholic/drug addict to be messed up at any given time. To tell the truth about Spike, he's not all that fucked up at all, even in the metaphorical tongue in cheek sense. What do you think, Kuromori-san?

Kuromori:Indeed, detached logical voice of Spike, Spike is only messed up in the sense that any "too smart for his own good" and over-read person in this post-modern age can be, namely in a sense where he takes his own modest neuroses and attempts to use it as creative fertilizer. The end result? Something pretentious and masturbatory, like my own birth and the written output derived from it! In reality, he is also fairly obsessed with personal hygiene as well, dresses like a dandy, despite having an obsession with filth and puts on airs of great taste, despite repeatedly eating sandwiches bought from vending machines! Mothers, for the love of God, don't let your children read Rimbaud. I tell you-

Iron Chef Floor announcer:Supaiku-san! Kuromori-san is absolutely in control of the game here in the Iron Will competition bowl. Right now you see him using his salariman katana of piercing clarity to slice through reams of post-structualist thought and is inserting them into prepacked tuna fish sandwiches of indeterminate age! What could be the symbolism between this interplay of questionable foodstuffs and dubious philosophical foundations?

SIID:I don't know, Iron Chef floor guy who's name I can't recall, let's go back to Spike to find out.

Nah, seriously though, I'm a grad student in Japanese Religion at the University of Hawaii. If you can believe it, my academic obession is studying elements of Japanese religion within Japanese pop-culture. Too bad my Japanese isn't at a level where I can just plow through the volumes of manga and anime needed to write at length on the subject. I'll probably be forced to do some "state of the question" bullshit about Shintoism outside Japan.

SIID:As we can see here, Spike starts slathering on some academic babble here. A "state of the question" research project simply means doing a report about what's going on in a certain subject area at the moment and then tacking on some BS thesis argument that's completely arbitrary. A common grad student thesis trick.

Kuromori:Indeed, if he was serious about going past his master's he'd be on the career track to Obscuritytown Community College where he'd hold "Special Non-tenured part-time chair in religious studies" and be doing in-depth research in self-degredation through part-time office temping to make ends meet. It's fairly obvious he's sick of school. After all, here he sits, giving me voice when he has a big seminar midterm coming up. Can anyone say avoidance theory? He's simply paralyzed in the face of the notion that he's intellectually inadequate compared to everyone else he knows, since he struggles to understand languages and can't wrap his mind around the higher theory. He'd much rather be out relaxing with the friends he doesn't have because he works two jobs and goes to school full time and imagines what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone who understands his quirks. All pretty sad, you know?

SIID:Now Kuromori, I know it's your job, but don't you think you're being a bit too hard on him for just this once?

Kuromori:Shut the fuck up. Your job is to deconstruct what he says, my job is to give voice to his incredible and painful self-awareness in an aesthetically meaningful and entertaining fashion.

I'm an obsessive writer. I'm also still in the process of filling this damn thing out. I can't believe I have to supply my own damn HTML markups. What a fucking pain in the ass. When it's done, expect these margins to be as filled as Proust writing on a three-day crack binge.

SIID:It's true that Spike here loves to write. It's one of the few things that makes him feel at peace, if only for a short while. Some might say it's just the nicotiene he's consuming while writing, but in actuality-

Kuromori:Why do you say that? He hasn't written anything in ages. His last story was almost a year ago, and last poem just before that. He's barely written in his livejournal. School consumes all his energy. He's just become another cliche, a writer who does not write. He might as well get his real estate liscense already. If I had space here, I would write about the corrosive effects of modern day life to creative consciousness, but I require him to give me voice and right now all he's doing is killing time, not actually being all that creative. Hell, the only reason I'm speaking right now is because he's lonely and wants someone, as always, to talk to. The sad thing is I'm a completely conscious creation, the solely imaginary friend of a man-boy who has complete control of *urk* Now for levity here's Dick Vitale!

Dick Vitale:Yes, Just as Meadowlark Lemon knows how to handle a ball, Spike here knows how to distinctly make any reader uncomfortable. You can just imagine him playing with your mind and his own to the tune of a guy whistling the Harlem Globetrotters theme! He's dead serious even when he's not! Is he making fun of himself, or pouring forth his soul to strangers? It's anybody's game and it's a happy-go-lucky mindfuck, baby!

You might know me from such self-published endevours such as "Cane-Fired Schizo" ..1 and ..2 and "Notes From Kuromori" ..1. If you have, then I probably already know you. I only printed out 25 of each damn issue and I still have over half of them.

SIID:These are all gone, people, thanks for the interest in them. Spike might print out more of them, but he'd prefer to move onto other projects.

KuromoriMMF, MMF!

SIID:It seems our Kuromori-san has been ball-gagged so I'll provide as imbalanced a commentary as possible. Yes, they're not Spike's best work, but he likes to think as far as Zines go, CFS is somewhat starkly confessional and NFK is more or less humbly revolutionary in how it attempts to turn narrative and biography inside out. Spike actually isn't suffering from multiple-personality disorder. He just thinks it makes a great tool to discuss the various facets of a person's complete personality, and how as one person we're constant battle of wills and awarenesses within each other. Like all hobbies, sometimes it can get a little out of hand. Kuromori is a "daimon", much the spirit of Socrates. A prize goes to the person who can figure out the origin of the name. Kuromori himself is rather ashamed of his name. He considers it much too geeky, despite his fearsome exterior. As one can see from Spike's own words, Kuromori exists as a constant aspect of his personality, if almost completely submerged in day to day life. Foul-mouthed and dismissive of conventional mores and morality, he seeks to tear down the world in order to rebuild it. He's an atheist mystic, the rationalist of illogical dialogue and can only be tolerated in small doses, as most people find out.

You might stand a greater chance of knowing me from poetry and fiction published in Windward Community College and UH Manoa Lit journals. Yeah, I'm actually fucking ashamed of what I published in those. The vast majority of you might know me from the fucking huge stain on the sidewalk in front of the bus stop by the public restroom on the Pali Highway. God knows what I drank that night, but it bleached that concrete white.

*slash slash*

Stan:OH MY GOD, YOU KILLED THE VOICE OF REASON!

Kuromori:Guess who's back? That story? A lie. He puked in front of a bus stop, but it didn't stain the sidewalk for more than a couple days, and he simply drank two bottle of wine and three beers. He left out the part about the annoyed lady sitting next to him and desperate attempt to get puke off his boots before the polish was damaged. Vanity doesn't suit the debauched, does it? Oh, and before you get big ideas about me, one could say I'm just a big fucking rip-off of Eminem, mixed with some mind-fuck anime and novel characters, with the inevitable dash of pretension. Oh, and those stories he wrote did suck.

Those of you who find this who knew me in High School are probably surprised with how depraved I turned out. It was only a matter of time, I tell you.

Kuromori:Keep telling yourself that, boring boy. It also boggles the mind that somehow you think talking like a cut-rate Bukowski will get you a girlfriend. The fact is you're so ineffably dull and conventional you'll never amount to anything and-

SIID:Haven't you learned anything, Kuromori-san? The voice of reason cannot be destroyed. If the totalitarian governments of history could not strike it down, the angry voice of self-doubt hasn't a chance in hell. You should stick to being my darker half. Your dissections of the neurosis inducing tendancies of the world, the vast panoramas of absurdities are far more interesting than you beating up on the guy who created you.

Despite the acerbic language contained herein, I actually do love puppies and teddies and brown paper packages tied up with string. Puppies make a good meal on a hot day, teddies remind me of roadside shrines where some shmuck got nailed by an SUV and brown paper packages tied up with string means my "medication" from Amsterdam has arrived in the mail.

SIID:And now for the man I like to call me, myself and I, as well as my father, as well as my son, the "I who is another"; Spike!

Spike: Hey all, I hope this little game hasn't left you disturbed. If you haven't run away creeped as fuck by now, I invite you to message me. I'm on AIM, handle Rimbaud971. Seeya in the funny pages!

My Interests

I've decided to more or less dump my livejournal interests here and save myself the trouble with some added addenums at the end. 9 chickweed lane, absinthe, adolf wolfli, alchemy, alternate history, angel rosewater, anime, anthroposophy, ariel schrag, artaud, arthur rimbaud, beck gold, big o, blasphemy, bosch, bruce lee, buddhism, carlos antonio jobim, charles baudelaire, comics, compulsive writing, cordwainer smith, cowboy bebop, cults, cyberpunk, depression, dostoevsky, dragonball, dumpster diving, elijah's mantle, emmanuel swedenborg, enochian, everything, existentialism, fado, faye valentine, fear, flaming lips, flcl, fourth way, franz bardon, furi kuri, gabriel garcia marquez, ghostworld, gnosticism, gogol, golden dawn, gurdjieff, hacking, happy family plan, hart crane, haruhara haruko, hats, hawaii, henry darger, hey arnold, history, house of secrets, ialdabaoth, illuminations, isidore ducasse, israel regardie, jack chick, jeet kune do, jim carroll, john coltrane, jorge luis borges, kailua, kinpachi sensei, ktuh, loathing, lolita, lucifer, magic realism, magick, maldoror, mamimi, mani, marijuana, maupassant, mental illness, mission hill, neil gaiman, nelly the sheep, new wave, nick drake, nietzsche, occult, oddness, opium, optic nerve, outsider art, outsider music, patty smith, philip k. dick, philosophy, pibgorn, pipes, pistis sophia, poetry, programming, quantum physics, quantum poetry, r. dorothy waynewright, radiguet, reign the conqueror, religion, rimbaud, rinzai, robert johnson, roger smith, rudolf steiner, salvia divinorum, sandman, sci-fi, science fiction, seicho no ie, self-publishing, shinshukyo, shinto, silent films, slam poetry, smoking, sonic youth, spike jonez, spike lee, spike spiegel, subdebs, syd barrett, taoism, techno, tenchi muyo, the great work, the instrumentality, the kybalion, the pixies, tibetan buddhism, tim hunter, tobacco, umberto eco, urban hipster, van gogh, weirdness, william blake, zines, zining, zoroastrianism, samurai champloo, Don Delillo, Thomas Mann, Robert Anton Wilson, Max Stirner, anarchism, syndicalism, samuel delaney, nabokov, overcoming my own depressing skepticism, the floating world, ukiyo-e, bollywood, bhangra, bossa nova, neal stephenson, hakim bey, anais nin, albert camus, alternative japanese drama, milan kundera, franz kafka, henry darger, the breakdown of my bicameral mind, excel saga, Lawrence Durrell, Justine, Alexandria, William Foster Wallace, Florence Foster Jenkins, castrati, Farinelli, tokyo tribes, wuxia, dangerous visions, atheism, agnosticism, occupying the landfs between disbelief and belief, the numinous, steampunk, clockpunk, bronzepunk, Shakuhachi, kiseru, foulcault, SMAP, asceticism, denying my body, indulging my desires, self-mortification, self-gratification, William, S. Burroughs, Byzantium, Wesley Willis, William Gibson, Jose Saramago, cometbus, haruki murakami, erotica, fasting, tea, earl grey, green tea, kratom, blue lily of the nile, iboga, neurotheology, neurojamming, Dr. Jose Delgado, turning japanese, turning french, professional expatriatism, ceaseless movement, schizophrenia, the lesser work, Yukio Mishima, Writing: My lifeblood, yo. Something I never seem to do enough of, as opposed to spanking the monkey, which in hindsight most of my writing might as well be. Reading: I still do it, despite what I like to think of as the televisioning of books. If you enjoy reading books by political commentors, do me a favor and just feign illiteracy for the rest of your life. You might as well be. Anime: Insert tentacle porn/Pokemon joke here. Done laughing yet, motherfucker? Comic Books: I don't read the superhero shit. I prefer French poetry for my homoerotic subtext fix. Japan: Considering my major, I should have damn interest, though I swear to God the language was made simply to infuriate gaijin. I also occupy the interesting position of a male foreigner obsessed with Japanese culture who has no interest in dating Japanese women. I'm actually interested in the culture and I'm not some pathetic otaku looking for a surrogate home in which I can indulge in fantasies of subservient womanhood. France: Is explanation really necessary? An encounter with Rimbaud at 16 while ignoring my literature class was felicitious and ill-starred at the same moment. One thing leads to another and you're fucking piss drunk reciting Nerval in an empty public park at night. Poetry: Because it's been dead for decades, and the only way to revive it is to go all Ogden Nash on T.S. Eliot's ass. That and I feel a strong affinity for an art form that allows me to insult sensitive Emo-boys. Come on, I love poetry, but with titles like "The Telemarketer's Lament" and "Heartsongs for Kim Jong Il" how else can I be creative and unique in a field dominated by utter crap or masturbatory pretentious post-modernism? Alcohol: I read the Book of Mormon while drunk. That's when I knew I had reached the satori moment of blasphemy. Musical theatre: Because beneath every hard-bitten cynic is a dramafag who cries at the end of Carosel. Yes, I'm a little girl. Call me fucking Madeline and put me in a sundress.

I'd like to meet:

First off, people who have a grasp of the rudiments of spelling and grammar. If you write like a chimpanzee on an AOL commercial, don't bug me. Also, creepy solicitations for sex by older men aren't desired. While it was flattering when I was jailbait, it's not so much anymore. Besides, I much prefer creepy solicitations by women. With lots of money.

People seeking a kept man can be provided with my resume and recommendations. I can cook, speak and write Spanish and Japanese (French and Portugese forthcoming), and can also mix wicked drinks. If you're an older woman looking to keep dilettante writer with no useful job skills, then I'm your man.

I'd also like to meet people I went to high school with, mainly because I want to see what the hell you've all been up to while I've been trying to forget. Granted most of my friends are probably dead, in rehab, or god forbid, the armed forces.

As you might already be able to tell, I've got a fucking sparkling personality and a lust for life straight out of a Camus novel. I'd like meet similar types. That should be qualified by the fact that wit takes precidence over darkness, and if you think sitting at the mall making fun of the morbidly obese shoppers is a laugh riot, the actual humor must be derived from things not dealing with canned hams in spandex and more geared towards the subversive and disturbing. Like wondering loudly in the food court whether or not the kitchen has beaten it's rat feces problem since you quit 3 months ago.

If you honestly care about things like politics, religion, and other red button issues, I'd like to state right now that I'm completely equal-opportunity, and that no position will go unassailed. Not only will I trample any sacred cow I can get my hands on, I will taser it, slaughter it, and roast it over the barbie while singing "Tubthumper" by Chumbawumba. Hence, if I haven't pissed you off or grossed you out already, then give me some time. I'm working on it.

All that shit being said and done, I'm actually somewhat of a nice guy for a complete misanthrope. I like to fuck with people's heads, as you can see, but I'm not cruel. I never hide my opinions, and I believe that the maxim that intelligent people should be polite and refined is bullshit. The world needs more people to be completely and utterly honest about themselves and how they feel, and if people can't deal with that, then fuck 'em, I say.

All life is should be a creative enterprise. Even an accountant can be a Mozart if he gets pure and utter joy out of composing ledgers. Everything that you do, every moment that you draw breath from the air, should be as filled with as much meaning and purpose as you can stuff into it. Me, I write love poetry about Kim Jong Il and death poetry invoking "The Price is Right". I write and draw mindfuck zines nobody reads, and I don't care. I study a field completely useless and obscure, but I'll fill out 65 hour workweeks for it.

Enough shit about me. My question for you is this: What's your passion?

Music:

Daler Mehndi is God. No really. If God exists, he's a pudgy Sikh Punjabi-Pop Star with a supernatural ability to groove despite looking like New York Cab-driver. The Pixies. Kim Deal used to be a hottie. She still makes sweat pants look kinda hot, till I realize it's just beer goggles. The Gorillaz: What Mozart would be like if he lived in the Mirrorshades Era. The Pillows: Japanese Pop-punk. John Coltrane: A Love Supreme makes me believe in God, and that he is a saxophone. Carlos Antonio Jobim: The ultimate cocktail music. And a whole lot of other shit that I don't have time to anotate.

Movies:

Anything by Akira Kurosawa. Because man is a genius when he is dreaming. French New Wave Cinema. Paris, Texas by Wim Wenders. Anything by Angeschza Holland. Basically, if it doesn't stand a chance in hell of playing at the Megaloplex theatres or being on the shelf at Blockbuster, chances are I like it. Yes, I love art films. Screw me with Luis Bunuel's black turtleneck.

Television:

Adult Swim, PBS, the Independant Film Channel and Turner Classic Movies. The rest of the shit on TV makes me want to smash the screen and use the shards to drive out my eyes. That or find some way to encode a mental virus into the refresh patterns of the cathode ray tube in order to hasten the mental death of the American nation. That way only unbathed crunchy granola types, psychotic fundamentalists and myself will inheirit the earth.

Books:

Gee, the fact that this is at the bottom of the profile list, underneath the shout-outs to Jesus and grandpa and fandom to the latest season of The Apprentice makes me wonder about the mental caliber of the majority of myspace. Seriously though. I have over 1,000 books and 3,000 comic books. You expect me to distill my favorites from that list? Let me just give a brief run through. I like magic realism, science fiction, Experimental prose, poetry, mindfuck literature and basically stuff you actually have to think about in order to read. If you loved the DaVinci Code and think it's some masterwork of fiction, please do me the favor of repeatedly bashing your forehead against the wall until you destroy your pre-frontal cortext and ability to read. The only people who could possibly enjoy it are people who went to college in order to train for a career, and didn't learn something as integral as the fact that the term for the study of symbols is "semiotics" and not "symbology". Dan Brown can suck my chocolate salty balls.

Heroes:

Heros? All my heros would be fucking disgusted if I listed them here. Idol worship does not become an original person. Yeah, I'm pretty fucking pretentious and arrogant, aren't I? So are all my heros, except for Jesus. No, not the messiah. The short order cook at my favorite Mexican resturant. He can't accept the fact he makes the best damn huevos con chorizos this side of the Rio Grande. "De Nada" he says. To which I say "Learn to take a fucking compliment."

My Blog

Some stuff to get out of the way

As you may have noticed, no tags in header for like the last year. I figured if I'm to get a real blog, I might as well keep it completely separate from my more content-oriented writing. More and more...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Tue, 05 Jun 2007 06:12:00 PST

[politics] The Moon society is so much more advanced over our primitive monkey minds

Thesis is going a little slower than I'd like, but going nevertheless. I decided to comment on this whole Aqua Teen Hunger Force kerflaffle. It's one of my favorite shows, and to tell the truth, if th...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Fri, 02 Feb 2007 07:43:00 PST

A small note

Okay, remember my New Year's resolution to be less of a douchbag?So I've been trying to be conscious of my actions.With that... I realize I go far beyond douchebag everyday. I'm stretching into full o...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Thu, 11 Jan 2007 07:01:00 PST

New year's resolutions and updates

Try not to be such a douchebag all the time. Seriously, it's got to stop. Start writing my thesis. Quit smoking cigarettes (haha, I bought a pack and smoked it just to say i could have one successful ...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Tue, 02 Jan 2007 12:10:00 PST

Hey all.

They're retiling the house, hence I had to move and disconnect everything in my room. I'll be completely gone for a few days. Seeya all. If I don't get much real work done over that period of time, fe...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Sun, 12 Nov 2006 03:03:00 PST

Dammit

I upped and walked out of class today during a debate.I'm fucking sick of studying religion, and I'm even more fucking sick of the whole humanities "we can't know the truth" shit. If we can't know the...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Fri, 13 Oct 2006 06:15:00 PST

[personal] Shigata ga nai

I suppose I should be writing that paper instead of writing this journal entry, but it's Sunday and I'm going to get even more busy as the future hurtles at me with its inevitable velocity. Those of y...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Mon, 18 Sep 2006 04:29:00 PST

[lit, science, blog, personal] Hmmmm..

Well school starts tomorrow. Back to the grind of the thesis. I never did post those book reviews. Next time I'll write them after I read the book rather than just jump to the next book. Shit, I read ...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Sun, 20 Aug 2006 02:11:00 PST

There should be a song about this

Nothing like insomnia, a dark room and a Twilight Zone marathon.Book reviews coming tomorrow. Cross my heart, hope to die.Dreams should be interesting tonight.
Posted by Spike the Punch on Tue, 04 Jul 2006 02:12:00 PST

[BOOK/ARTS] Review of <I>A History of Webcomics</I>

First off I must make a confession; I did not completely reread the book. I meant to, but reading it once was hard enough. The cover of the book has "v1.0" printed in the top corner. They should have ...
Posted by Spike the Punch on Mon, 12 Jun 2006 05:36:00 PST