Angst, Aggression, Fuck Average, Amazing

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you've been punched in the gut? Like... you waited to get the job you wanted only to find out that the seeds you once had in your bag unknowingly might prevent you from getting a visa in another country, not to mention barred from two in Asia, possibly more?  Nah, me neither. Angst.

Have you ever wanted to punch everything around you including the air? Like... you decide to take a huge risk and life change only to get knocked down... hard. Like, one of the only hard times in your life you're gonna get knocked down like that. But you get up, don't quit, and keep going. You take time during the adjustment and find a new place, new job, new secondary job, new bicycle, new gym. You reach your goal. You were able to take the step knowing you were going to get knocked down, probably harder than you've ever been knocked down before, but you do it anyway. And you're fine. You make new life plans only to then be kicked in the balls. Everything that you had saved up and worked for to make happen after that huge risk, everything that you gathered together and organized is then threatened for weeks to then be relieved, and then kicked in the balls. Aggression.

I realized that these feelings I have are normal, but the way I'm handling them are pretty average. Whatever is meant to happen always does. But look at the facts. Yeah, I fucked up back in the day unintentionally, unknowingly, and unwittingly for which I am now getting the karma kick in the face for it. But it isn't so bad if I think about it, because I realized that getting a travel ban from two countries means I've been living my life exactly the way I want to. That sounds a bit reckless, but when you've made the promise to yourself already that you're not going to sacrifice your beliefs and who you are for things, especially when you're not hurting a damn person for it, you've got to stick to your guns no matter what the consequences. So fuck average and fuck changing who you are, regardless of the consequences it may bring. Fuck average.

Macro photography--amazing.

Finding Jack 420: The Prequel is coming along VERY nicely. So fun. By the time you read this though you're not going to be able to see the pictures though... but you can download it for FREE :) More later.

The Wanderer's Journal Comics

Here lies the official birth of the Wanderer's Journal Comics... stay tuned to all ports of social media for updates.

The crazy thing is that 6 days before what happened in England is when I ordered the one on the bottom. I'm just putting this in right now so when I look back I can remember the times we are currently in now.

My New Love

I have been so excited lately... although my world temporarily came crashing down today, I picked myself up with a couple of psychadelics and some meditation. Tears don't stop... but they never do when you are around this stage.

That doesn't take away from my excitement... even when I have the worst days.

I remember once, in Africa, I was backpacking on my own. I was somewhere in Malawi on an intercity locals bus. I saw a woman in a tea field, picking tea with her baby strapped to her back. I was on a bus and I was scared to death because I was the only white guy on this bus, soon to be traveling through the Tete Corridor during their civil war. My asshole was puckering in ways you could never of imagined, and I was getting the biggest rush from all of it.

This lady in the field, it felt like I was watching her for an hour. On a bus flying by. Her child started crying, so she pulled out one of her tits and flung it OVER her shoulder into the mouth of her crying child. An atomic bomb exploded in my mind.

I realized that she probably could of hung her tits all the way to the ground, unfolded them and used them as a red carpet for royalty. This lady had the flabbiest, stringiest tits I had ever seen in my entire life, and she looked all of, I don't know... maybe 30.  Looking at her in my mind and those flabby tits riding on that bus through the blackness of the night in nowhereland Africa... I realized that she probably had the hardest life I had ever imagined, and I promised myself that whenever I was having it rough, I was going to think about the African woman that probably had already born 5 children on the way to 10, works every day to feed her family and BLEEDS from her hands and her feet because she can't afford shoes. She has flabby tits because she can't defend herself against the husband that forces himself on her every night in an alcohol-fueled tirade and she is bidding her time for the drink to take him so much that she is then, finally, stronger physically than her uneducated, unemployable, deplorable shadow of a husband. 

My life and my problems are nothing. I think about that when I go through my struggles, as I have today. 

And that is where Buddhism takes it's play. I realize this and I am able to take joy in my sorrows, even if I'm crying while I'm smiling. I know that there will always be someone in a better situation, and frankly, one that will always have it much much worse in ways a privileged white man could ever fully understand.

I have no money, but I was able to pull together $30 and bought a macro lens. And I've been having fun crying. But that is the process of where I am. My new love is macro photography, these are my tears. Not really.

They Know--A Finding Jack 420 story

As always guys, this is a random post, but it is a small, VERY small story from my new book that is going to be finished some time next year.  As a kind reminder, what you read will not reflect the tone, give plot spoilers, or reveal anything that I don't want you to see.  This piece is edited by myself and another person, but not dissected by The Publisher yet. I decided to capitalize "The Publisher" because it sounds cool like "The Punisher".  And because at any time The Publisher can end anything I worked 15 years on. Respect.

They Know

It was the loudest goddamn sound I’ve ever heard in my life.  My goddamn miserable life.  It sounded like a car crash in the very cortex of my ear.  A nuclear blast! It was horrible.  But it was an alarm for me to run.  Because they know.

I walked into the next room of my house.  It was obliterated.  I mean there was nothing that I could recognize.  My ears were still ringing. I couldn’t walk right because the concussion from the impact imploded my brain. My head hurt! But they know! They fucking know! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! They know! What am I going to do? I can’t run anymore! I ran all the way across the planet!

The lifeless hunk of metal lay dripping ooze out of its… whatever it turned into.  Its taxi was smashed into a yellow pulp. If metal can become pulp. My bed was on fire.  The hole it left in its wake blew the coldest air I’d ever felt.  But what chilled me the most—fuck fuck fuck fuck—was the perfectly severed nose that lay, like a golden egg on my scortched pillow.  It was an offering, no, a reckoning.  It was a reminder of what I did.  They know! I don’t know how they would… don’t know how they could, but they know!

I grabbed the only two things of importance to me—my zone pass, and what was left of my computer.  Half of the keyboard was missing, but it didn’t matter.  The data was still in the chip, the chip was on the half that wasn’t burnt. But… oh, my god. Oh, oh my GOD! How did they find me! The nose was… it was… oh fuck… it was… oh no, oh no… oh shit, why did I ever open my mouth? Why did I ever talk?

I had no money.  I had nothing! I couldn’t stop… couldn’t stop running.  I felt I ran for the longest time.  I felt I ran until the world ended. My world is ending. This is it. This is how it ends.  This is what happens.  They find you, they leave a nose on your pillow.  They taunt you! They torture you! They… oh fuck, who cares? I’m done for.  But I can’t stop running!  I ran until my legs felt fire.  Then I ran until my chest hurt. Adrenaline! YeahI I need more! I saw an alley. There was a flicker.  I know what that is!  I know. I fucking know!  

I aimed the burnt side of the computer down on his head. At least I think it was a he.  I heard the crack. I didn’t care if there was a crunch.  I just saw one more flicker right before my arms came crashing down. His, I don’t know what they call it in this zone, was laying on the ground. I grabbed his spark, I lit it and it filled my lungs.  I could feel my body, my eyes rise up out of my head and see their own souls dialate. And then my heart took off. It flew through my body and my legs couldn’tkeep up.  I’m no idiot. I know if you don’t drink that drink they do, it keeps the heart going! 

I ran way outside of town. My computer was still under my arm.  It was the pitch black of night, felt like seconds from when the taxi smashed though my hideout.  Fuck those government clowns. My heart was slowing.  My mind still racing. Need to call into work tomorrow. First week at Norris North Hospital, but I need to buy myself time.  Tell them I was visiting my sister in zone 3 when I got the call from the guard telling me there was an accident at my house.  Think. THINK. There’s more to do.  I can still have seconds… maybe enough time. Maybe. My breath was still panting. My feet were sore and bloody. There was a light, faint, but a light in the distance.  It was through the briar patch.  Shoeless.  I can still do this. I saved it.  But they know.  They must know where I am now.  It doesn’t matter.  I still see the nose on my pillow. Robot messenger.  Fuck with me?  FUCK WITH ME? You have no idea who you’re fucking with! 

I started down the hill. It hurt.  It hurt so much.  I ran. I kept running.  I feflt the drug still pitterpattering through my heart.  It was there. It was the only thing that was keeping me from passing out.  But it hurt so much.  Fuck it hurt!  My feet… oh god… can I get there? Can I get to that light? The briars stopped., but the mud and muck drew into my pores, my cuts. I collapsed. I crawled through the first muck.  Now dry land. Dirt.  My computer was still in the crook of my arm.  How did I do that?  

The last 5 meters to the door. The adrenaline was gone. I took one step and had to stop for a minute. One stop, stop for 30. You can do this! I remembered what got me here five years ago. Computer still in my arms. Arms stained with black carbon, brown muck. It’s almost over! 

I heard the dog bark. More lights came on. A man drawn with his taser came busting through the front door.

“Molly! Molly! Get the box!” It was all I heard before I went black. It was still the same night when I woke up. I don’t know how long it had been. But the agony that woke me felt like the crash through my house translated into pain. Pure pain.  I didn’t know it, but a shrapnel had pierced my leg as well.  I know this because when I woke up they were dumping alcohol all over my leg. It wasn’t even credit bought. It was bitter smelling. Smelled like honey at the same time.  And it burned.  Fuck did it ever burn.  I handed him my zone pass. He lifted took it with his grey eyes bleeding patience and angst and… what was it? Acknowledgement? No… it was something else.

“He knows, I told you he knows.” He said to his… wife? Surrogate? It didn’t matter at the time. I blacked out again.

I woke up. It was morning. Only the sun shines that hot at that time. During the day the dust particles block its rays and it never can shine like that. So I was only out for a few hours? I looked at the digital clock across the room. It was a day later. 

I lept out of bed because my computer was no longer in my arms. My head was dizzy.  My feet were on fire. Fuck fuck fuck fuck… FUCK! Where is it? Where’s my computer? Everything was happening in time lapse, but I heard the door behind me creak open in real time. 

“You rose? Why did you do that? You need rest son!”  

His elderly hands, I didn’t recognize before. They reached out to me. My computer!

“Molly! Bring this man’s computer!”  

A woman, barely able to stand, crooked back, hunched over brought in the only thing that mattered to me anymore. She handed it to me with her arms creaking louder than the door. It took her ten years to walk from the other room, but I felt it before she did. And the time lapsed in just a blink.  What was happening to me?  I snatched it out from her frail fingers and huddled in the corner.  My feet bandaged and throbbing.

They spoke in a language I never studied, but I knew what they were saying.  I kept hearing the same thing. “He knows.”

“Slow down, son,” the old man said. 

I looked at him with peculiarity. I could feel my face contort. Who are you? 

“We are here to help you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out my badge for Norris North Hospital. I must’ve had it in my pocket. 

“Where do you come from?” he asked with his eyes trying to smile.  They know. I said.  

“I will call and tell them you’re sick.  You have the E2.”

That should buy me a month.  At least.  Who are you? Why the fuck… no one helps anyone these days.

I snatched my badge out of his hand. I held my fingers up to my ear like I was making a phone call. He nodded in earnst.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Molly, get some liquid for him!”

Now, a few days later. I had shoes. I had money in my pocket. I had a head start. Maybe I could outrun them? Maybe I could survive another day? Yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Fuck yeah. I can do this! I can do this! You know why? Because I’m the guy that broke this story! I’m the guy that went through SS training! I’m the guy… ah fuck, who am I kidding. They know.

I was on transit to zone 421. I don’t know how I got there, but I did. I was still alive.  

“He knows.”

What? I looked around. Every being there was either sleeping or into their device. 

“I told you he can be the one.”

My head slammed right. Slammed left. 

“What are we going to do with him?”

What the fuck is going on?  Who is talking?  

“He can’t hear us now.”

Inaudible. 

Unknown.

“He doesn’t understand us right now.”

I kept my eyes down. I even took out my zone pass and flipped through the pages. 

“What can we do with him?’”

“He knows! I’m telling you, he knows!”

I nodded my head. 

“You see! I told you! He knows!”

English, broken. Unknown language. 15 people. Chatter again. Unknown languages. 3 dark haired, 4 light. 8 bald. 9 females, 6 males. Switching from Chinese to English, to unknown, to German, to English.

“We have to help him.”

My head stuttered. What? 

“He is the one.”

Another dump of adrenaline seared through me. I shifted my body. I turned my eyes lower into my zone pass.

“No.”

“He’s not ready.”

“I’m telling you, he knows.”

“Now what to do?”

“Follow procedure.”

What procedure?  Two more join in. One tall. So tall. Black bag. Three shift altogether.

“Hey, do you know?” I heard. It was the slightest whisper, but I heard. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to say.  Was it a good thing? Was it bad? I said nothing.

“See he doesn’t know.” 

Chatter heightened. I heard my past laid out before me. Raised: zone 4. Schooled: zone 2. Enlisted: zone 1. Deployed, lived, died, came back. I listened to them talk about the men that I lost, the women I fucked, the people I killed. 

“He can’t know. It’s not time.”

“I know you motherfuckers. I’m here. I’m ready.”

Then there was silence. They all stopped talking. I went black again. But I awoke on the same train. Same beings around me. My zone pass was still in my hand.

“Let’s make contact.” It was all I heard.  

Then my eyes blinked and there were three of them around me. They were all dressed in white. One had a hypodermic in his hand. I looked down and the computer I had in my arms was now bigger, not burnt at all. They tried to close down on me, but I got one in the nose, the other I was able to knee in the groin. The third grabbed me and slammed me down to the ground. I felt the hypodermic go into my neck and read Norris North Hospital on his badge on the way down.

A Small Act of... Strange Kindness

Thus, here comes 2 disclaimers: What you read here may or may not have actually happened, but is definitely true. If you think it up then you truly thought it up, so it's true right? 

Second, if you're a friend or family and don't want to read something embarrassing, revealing, and explicit, then don't read on. If you're some kind of random bloke that get his kicks off of such, well then, by all means, read on.

I'm sitting here thinking about Japan because right now I'm somewhere in the world doing a whole bunch of debauchery, realizing that I have to finish this kind of debauchery before going back. I don't fuck around anymore in countries that want to take my freedom away without trial for smoking a plant. It's just not worth it.  They have other kind of debauchery there.

Then I thought of a story that happened to me when I was 18. I was an exchange student staying in a big house with a big family. It was summertime... hotter and more humid than any place I'd ever been in my life. Like sitting in a car on a summer day with the windows up in the house. One day I'm looking for the air con remote and I come across a bag of porn. JAPANESE PORN. Now I grew up in America and very unexpectedly was watching from about the age of 11. These days I know the dangers of it, a story I could get into, and there are dangers (FSB), but back then I was just like any guy that is going to read this right now who didn't get his balls chopped off at an early age. 

It was summer vacation, so the only two people in the house was the grandfather and myself. Now this man was funny. He was skinny from the back and looking at him from the front, but if you looked at him from the side it looked like he swallowed a watermelon. I mean his stomach was big, like an anaconda that just ate a pig. He was old, just sat around watching baseball in the same position. He would always find me when I walked into the house and say "Pan" which mean bread, which was him trying to translate "rice" into what an American would call it. Most of Asia refers to a meal as "rice" which might refer to a meal consisting of a meat dish, sides of veggies, a soup, and just as the name, rice. 

So this one day I thought I could get away with watching like, ten minutes of porn. I thought, damn, his watermelon-carrying-belly can't get his ass up the stairs. I'm safe. Tape goes in, pants go down... back door opens up to "oh, fuck yeah baby!" in Japanese and all I can do is freeze like a deer in headlights with my pants down and a face you don't want someone to have a camera in their hands for. He looked down, looked up at the T.V. and then at me and said "pan." Well, I knew I had to face him eventually. In situations like that I know I'm going to feel embarrassed, but rather get it over with, probably a side effect of growing up and having my dad pull my pants down in front of people.  So I went downstairs to sit and eat. Ojiichan was sitting there fixated on the T.V. screen. I ate my bread and didn't say anything. 

The next day when I got home and Ojiichan said "pan" I went into the dining area. We always sat on the floor, so I took a seat and started unwinding the bread bag to put into the toaster that he always puts on the table kindly for me.  I looked down for the knife and over next to him, kind of behind, kind of hidden, but not really was a stack of magazines, some sports, but the one that was kind of hidden, but not really was a dirty magazine. It was out a bit more than the others, but in this subtle way that didn't look too obvious. I got the strange act of kindness immediately, I interpreted the message very quickly because of his love and compassion. This might sound very, very weird, but this is a perfect example of Buddhism. He didn't want me to suffer feeling embarrassed, so he embarrassed himself to show me that what I had done was normal.

As I pack up for Japan back to my apartment from the Nowhere Quadrant I'm living in now. I pack up and head back to Q6 to check in for my next assignment.

Slow and Steady

Today... wow... fuck, where do I start? Do I start with all of the meditation and crying? All of the psychadelics, the music, the meditation? The trip up to Dayton to search out for one specific monk?  The river... 

It's too much to talk about. Too much happened. You know know though, as much as I'd like to talk about some stuff, I choose not to and move on to Slow and Steady.

When I was traveling around Japan with a friend we'd drive off into the countryside and find hotsprings, great places to eat. Do stuff.  My Japanese is very good after almost 10 years studying it, but there is still so much I don't know. So I get the translations wrong, but I wanted to remind myself about the tunnel.  

The tunnel was a project by a local farmer in this small town.  It was started with his sole purpose to provide the community with a new road, something that the community was wanting for years and years. But the problem was, there was a rock in the middle of the road where this proposed road would go. The farmer didn't let that stop him for bringing change to the people around him. He grabbed his tools after a lot of thought and set out to that rock. He chipped at it, but nothing happened. He chipped again and a small piece broke off and he smiled. 

The villagers thought him crazy. This... FARMER... this peasant was going to sculpt a tunnel himself to make a road? People stayed away. No one helped. But the man trudged on, slow and steady. He did not falter, he did not stray, nor did he let what the villagers say about him. He trudged on, slow and steady. Whenever he had free time; he didn't have any wife. I mean, who would want to marry a crazy man?

It took him 20 years, but he eventually broke through the other side. I often sit in contemplation and I think about that story. I didn't tell it right, I'm sure.  But that's not the point of it. Wether he's a farmer or a fighter, he broke through, slow and steady after 20 years of never doubting himself to the point of quitting or giving up.  I wonder what that feeling would've been for him when he broke through on the other side and lit shone through onto him. That would of been the biggest mind explosion anyone could imagine. Then I wonder what that explosion would be like when enlightenment hits you. We all have bouts of enlightenment when that calm comes over us and there is nothing in our minds but there are smiles on our faces. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about an enlightenment that comes to stay for good.

I have no idea what is going to happen in the next few years. I know that the signs show me that there will be big things. But until then, I'm just going to trudge on, slow and steady.

Oh, and this is for you Thomas... don't forget you had a heart attack today when Keith Jardine liked about 15 of your pictures. Slow and steady, with little, massive victories that will accumulate and bring down the rain. 

Coolest pic to date finished. Props to me artist Zelaluyolilelu.

Don't Ever Fret

This is for the people that are very close to me in my life, the ones that want to support me here on the internet, but they can't. Society has still not caught up to even nature or healing yet. I understand.  I know that there are people that want to comment on my pictures on different social media platforms, but they can't for fear of someone they know seeing that they "liked" something that had to do with marijuana, that they were associated to something that is still a bit taboo like that. Fuck, I know all about it. I was the same way once, and I know. I just know. Don't feel bad. The few people that wrote me that told me these feeling led me to believe that there are probably some more people out there that feel the same way.  It's OK. 

The world will change in this way. More people will wake up and understand that you're not a pariah if you like a plant that feels good and heals people.

ps... The full moon today is known as the "Flower Moon"

Penniless and Proud...

Well, there are going to be a lot of truth bombs dropped here.  I'm tired of carrying around this weight.

First of all, I'm trying to be a writer, not an editor. I know how to edit, but I'm not perfect, so if you find a mistake here, I love the feedback and the critique. You can send me a message at 

instagram@findingjack420

or 

facebook@findingjack420

or you can send me a message on here through the contact page and tell me my grammar sucks.

I've been meditating a lot recently. And realized I'm tired of lying. I had some difficulties over the past 6 months that I've lied about to a big group of people I really care about. I haven't really had much contact with them because I haven't wanted to lie anymore. The reason I've lied about it is because I promised to keep something personal a secret. If I said nothing, the truth would have been implied. Lying bought some time for others that aren't in my life anymore. Which was part of the arrangement. That's all I can say.

The second truth bomb is, I love weed. I do. I started smoking recreationally when I was in university. I smoke it now so I can try to live a normal life. Every day I have what would be like a migraine headache in my foot. Sometimes I'm crabby as fuck and people don't understand. I just keep smiling, try not to complain, and don't talk about it. It's part of my life now, just something I had to get used to. And I am. But the times of day when I have the frequent pains that wake me up at night sometimes, or nearly cause me to crash my car in a spasm. That is equivalent to a hammer and nail doing a number on the nerve that was once severed and never healed correctly. That's what happens when you get bamboo shoved up into your foot. I guess I'm glad that I was running uphill because the doctor told me if I had been running down, I would have taken half my foot off. I just cut all of the tendons, the artery, and the nerve. So fuck you if you judge me. I'm tired of lying about that shit too. Sometime when the time is right I'll tell you some stories about that that have happened to me all over the world.

So, this is supposed to be called Penniless and Proud. Decisions in my life have lead me here to being broke again, I couldn't give two shits. I've been here three times in my adult life going for absolute broke for this book. Well, two. This time is different, but the point being is I feel absolutely amazing. That's the irony. The irony of Buddhism. We try to go and gather a bunch of stuff because we think it's going to make us happy, but then might have a time in your life when you do have nothing and then are surprised that you feel amazing, like you're reborn.  But I've been getting bored. When I said that out loud to the universe, my mom got a call for me to cut some grasses.  I thought, "great! Outside, sun, a little sweat, a little money..." but then the thought of money made me feel a little sick thinking that this feeling I have of having nothing and being happy would go away. So I decided to make a deal--I traded cutting the grass for a copy of my book. Each time I cut their grass or boss' they have to buy a book and give it to someone or convince someone else to buy it. I was feeling a bit restless too, so I went up to the martial arts gym, walked in, told him I trained in Asia, told him I don't have any money and we made a deal for me to come in and scrub toilets, which I did today and then worked out on the bag for about 15 minutes and about died. I'm going up for a Krav Maga class tonight... been a long time to do something like that. I'm probably going to go back and clean the toilets Friday. I cut the grass and mom bought me Subway.

15 years...

I have been writing this book for 15 years. To do research for it I have studied tae kwon do, hapkido, kickboxing, muay thai, boxing, sword fighting, and jiujitsu, which is now my new love. I've had my neck twisted, bones broken, stitches in places you couldn't imagine, tattoos, blown out a knee, and a bamboo skewer pierced my foot, nearly severing it, close to bleeding all the way out; I almost died in a forest in Thailand chasing this story. I have learned how to rock climb so I can know what it feels like for Doc to rescue a slave lead climbing a chimney. Then almost died again free climbing a 15m chimney doing just about everything you shouldn't do as a climber, just because I was at a point in my life where I didn't care how my limits were pushed. And I wanted to see what Doc would do. I went to diving school in Thailand just to make sure I got all of the terminology correct. I learned how to speak Japanese, Sinhalese, Spanish, and Korean, meditated in a Buddhist temple for a year, slept on the street, jumped borders... all to try to understand the life of the Wanderer Doc in the story. This story is, has been, and always will be, my life.  Regardless if it sells or not, I'm glad I finished it.

For about 5 years I wasn't at all serious about it, and for another 2 - 3 years I couldn't even bear the thought of doing anything with it. Just thinking about it made me physically sick. I don't know why - maybe because I was the one that was standing in my own way. Isn't that the case for anything that we haven't accomplished yet? It's all about ourselves getting out of our own way, stepping on and all over our own egos in order to get the shit done that we need to do, done. And now I just feel like my brain is lighter, like that proverbial monkey on the back isn't there anymore and I can breathe more freely. It's a liberating feeling, and I don't know why I didn't go after this feeling sooner. Wait, yeah I do know - because it wasn't time yet, and it was meant to teach me patience. And to never give up.