Life in a Brochure

11/12/15 on The Oasis of The Seas in Cozumel, MX

What draws us to certain places but not others? Do we really need each other to always tell us what we like? I have been here before and it is cool for the same reason a post card is cool. Someone sent it to you. The draw of a sunny beach town is the same. Someone told you it was good. They sent you the idea. Maybe it’s because it’s new to you. Either way I feel ingenuous when I claim it was somehow a very special experience.

At the end of the day it was some kind of perverse, ritualistic measurement of success and dominance over those without.

The most fulfilling experiences I have ever had have been based on the collaborative moments I’ve shared with others usually in adversity. But you can’t sell that as a vacation package.

If we keep confusing ourselves in mass with our capitalistic approach to life enjoyment we may forget what we came for. We may start to think that living in a travel brochure is all we ever need. Many of us may already think that.

What gives me hope is that we can think whatever we want but what we KNOW will always be truth and while we may be able to irresponsibly shape what we think, we can never change what we know. And I know that I would rather share my moments with you overcoming challenges than alone with a tan. Surviving together through the worst nature can dish out than quibbling over which fine dining experience is best for tonight. I would rather hurt with the world than ignore our suffering alone.

The Moment That is ME

The Moment that is ME.

6/11/15 Starbucks in Paulsbo, WA 1:20pm

Things get overwhelming but not always the quantity as much as the weight or depth of the thing. Sometimes have 25 things on my todo list and know full well that I am not going to complete half of them and I am very happy with that. Never do I feel out of control or overwhelmed. But if I have one or two heavy objectives that seem to go one step forward, two steps back, the wheels completely come off and that is the moment that experience is paramount. That is the moment that defines who I am right now. What I am made of is clear as day in that struggle. To this I can only say that sometimes I like what I see and sometimes I don’t.

I feel like It always comes down to the first step out of that feeling, that moment when I quit a little and have to restart. That moment is ME. Everything I am, have or fail at comes from that moment. The more I consciously attack that moment the more I like what I see.

Oh shit! Words of wisdom! Where did that come from.

The Ugly American

5/24/15 Juneau, Alaska

I am an American. There are a number of my behaviors that should be affected by that. I normally wouldn’t think about this much but I am traveling and I have started to stereotype people based on their overall volume of conversation while in close proximity with others.

Russians are loud on the phone.

People from India seem to position themselves at a substantial distance from one another and then begin a trivial debate in two languages.

Chinese people only really talk to each other when they are in a crowded elevator or sauna.

Eastern European people seem pissed off.

Jamaicans could not be more over everything.

…and everyone’s ringtones are completely annoying!

What do they all think of us? I bet we could guess, but how much of that am I doing? I try not to be the tacky image of the entitled American stomping through the flower garden of humanity, taking pictures of the bushes with trampling the delicate blossoms all around me. I do, however, have a certain expectation of ease when interacting with a crowd of people that is dependent on them understanding general human social norms. Does that make me intolerant? I am not sure. I would ask someone but they are all screaming into their cellphones in languages that I have never heard before.

In conclusion I will say that I have nothing to complain about. When you consume 75% of the earth’s resources maybe the cost is having to endure deafening proof that there are other people on the planet with you.

Love everyone!

ME

Aquastrian?

4/17/15 Royal Caribbean Allure somewhere in the Caribbean (in my cabin thinking) 5:49 pm

Yesterday I rode a horse in another country. I was in ST. Maarten and my Sister bought us each a horseback-riding excursion. The highlight of the trip was to be a romp in the surf on a horse.

Not many people can say that they have ridden a horse in the surf. The main reason for that is that HORSES AREN’T DESIGNED FOR SWIMMING!

Yesterday morning a horse in the US Virgin Islands woke up and continued standing there as he got his thoughts together and thought “Could it all have been a bad dream? Surely there aren’t groups of humans on boats that want us to do things we are uncomfortable with and not designed for so bad that they will pay exorbitant fees to ride on us as we do it.”

That horse was wrong. There ARE such humans and for all he knew, I was one of them. Because that very day at 2 in the afternoon, shortly after he had chewed on things that were piled up in front of him and swatted an exact amount of flies, I arrived and a saddle was put on him. I wonder if that was when he knew? Maybe he was an optimist. Maybe he thought I had paid to witness a quick saddle sizing and then watch him play with ducks or roll in sand. Maybe he thought I was an equine arbitrator there to help him settle a dispute about his position in the trail riding line. After all it had been months since he had filed a formal complaint with the “horses ass” in front of him. Nope. I had come to sit on top of him and make him do the one thing I can do better than him… swim.

The trail ride was first and this horse named Regalato and I pushed and pulled up and down rocky trails in an attempt to “give me my money’s worth.” A full hour after we began we were at the beach. Regalato looked back at me all squirmy as if to say “You know I am not as tall as the others right? You know I don’t have flippers?”

We went into the water in a line lead by the tallest horse who set the depth as a mean joke to the others. Regalato immediately reared up. That was when I felt the most like a man! I was kind of riding a bucking bronco! The only difference was that there was no way I could get hurt and everything was in slow motion.

Regalato went back to his stall and probably settled into another pile of chewing. Thinking “Thank the big steed in the sky that’s over. I can’t wait until tomorrow when they’re gone.  I’m safe from the swimming now. There can’t possible be another boat full of humans out there that want to sit on us and make us do fish activities!”

As for me I am over it. I am still sore because I went into the whole thing nursing a groin pull from a couple of days before. I hadn’t talked to a doctor about it but if I had I am fairly certain he would have said just go about your daily life and go easy on it… Then because he saw on the form that I am a comedian he would have made a joky face and said “Whatever you do though don’t ride horses underwater!” Just kidding. Who the hell would ever do that!?

Grey Three Pound Joy Generator

 4/5/15 Sitting at the Fly Away transit station in LA waiting for my wife.

If sitting was required in an activity that I had planned for and cleared my schedule to be a part of, I would be teaming with excitement and anticipation. Vibrating with joy brought on by the fresh and unknown. That is not this kind of sitting.

It’s funny that there is absolutely no difference in the actual activity I am engaged in. I am sitting on a bench the same as I would be in the former scenario. It’s the reason that changes it.

Three weeks of travel and I am now here with no car and my wife has just informed me that she and the kids haven’t left the house yet. I could be frustrated or sorry for myself or…. Wait for it… HAPPY.

Sitting is just sitting.

Happiness is truly just what is in your head. Three pounds of grey joy generator behind my face dictates whether or not there is a smile on it. I will control this organ today to get what I want from it. You do the same and we will shoot each other a smile.

Happy Easter.

A Wish Come True

4/4/15 In the back of Courtney’s Comedy Club (Population 16)

I did a podcast today with 2 incredibly intelligent young comics. We talked about beautifully challenging topics at a breakneck pace and at the end I went to edit it and the program crashed. IT IS GONE FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don’t know how to feel about it. If I was a real “In the moment guy” I would be fine with it, but I am not. I want to recreate it in some way but I don’t recall it because it was that good.

Nothing really good can be remembered in detail. Maybe that’s why eyewitness accounts are unreliable when it comes to bank robbery or messiahs.

As I sit trying to wash off the feeling of loss from my techno mishap I have started to realize that the audience I am about to perform for is the classic unseated, under-attended, one-nighter audience that I claimed to miss recently. I lied by accident.

As recently as two weeks ago I was telling someone that I was kind of over audiences that were seated in a way that supported respect for a live performance. People who had come with a suspension of judgment, prepared to enjoy a professional stand-up comedy show.

Careful what you wish for. You may find yourself doing a live show for eleven skeptical comedy goers seated on the perimeter of bar in Northern Minnesota.

Update… It was a great show because that’s how we do it.

My Metaphor Spin Cycle

3/30/15 Crew Laundry in the bottom of the Carnival Splendor

Here I am cleaning my clothes again. They were so fresh just four days ago. I put myself in them and strutted through my world feeling fresh and clean and good. I covered my privates with them, I sweated into them during my workouts, and I rested in them. Now THEY need ME.

This has to be a metaphor for something in life but I don’t know what. Maybe clothes are friends and I need to be more aware of my friends needs sometimes. Or maybe they are thoughts and ideas and I have to work at renewing or laundering my knowledge to create new, well-rounded ideas. Or maybe my family is the identity I clothe myself in and I have to be aware of what they need from me on a more regular basis so that they don’t get all stinky and dirty and frayed…

Or maybe I just need to wash my clothes.

Always Have a Look Out

3/27/15 AA Flight over the Caribbean on my way to Grand Caymen.

Always leave someone on watch. The couple next to me on this flight has fallen asleep. This is the only place that it is acceptable to slumber with your mouth open and not have someone watching your stuff. I guaranty that if that man had to run and grab a coffee anywhere else in the world he would make sure someone was conscious.

With both of them asleep I am forced to ask myself some hard questions. Am I someone who takes pictures of unconscious strangers without their knowledge? Clearly. Am I the type to put my finger in the mouths of a dignified couple just trying to vacation on not enough sleep? Maybe. You’ll never know and neither will they.

Money is not currently an issue for me so their material things are safe but when is it that the things you’ve been a part of harm your identity? Perhaps it’s always. I say it’s only when you know about it. That is why you should always leave someone on watch. So that you’ll know when it’s OK to wake up screaming “NO MORE DOCTOR! I DON’T HAVE STREP THROAT!”

Sincerely,

DR. Moulton

Fat Friend

/26/15 1:15pm Double Tree Hotel Miami

I haven’t watched the news in a long time. Maybe three weeks. As I get further from connecting atrocity with humanity I feel less comfortable. I think I need to have above average morality, by comparison to feel good about myself. And that can only happen if I am aware of the worst things people do. It’s like society is my fat friend that makes me feel skinny.

As I distance myself from death and destruction I have begun to feel remiss. Perhaps if I watch CNN today I will think of myself as approaching sainthood and in need of a break from all this do-gooding. In need of a big meal and 2 big glasses of wine. You know. To celebrate all the humanitarian accomplishments I have achieved by not destroying a village or eating babies.

Here’s to me, not being other terrible people.

My Wife's Fault

3/24/15 Stateroom 1850 Royal Caribbean “Radiance of the Seas” 3:40 CT (somewhere in the gulf of Mexico)

I went to eat and someone cleaned my room. They were in my space and I can’t even picture them. Was it a man? Was it a woman?

There is something unnerving about a person being with my things when I am not there to qualify stuff or regulate what they are seeing with some sort of well presented, explanation.

I must be uncomfortable with my own habits. I must need their approval in some way. Maybe I feel like I missed an opportunity to see validation on the face of a non-English speaking stranger. Validation that would leave me glowing with confidence about how tidy my toiletries are or the unique way I hung my pants.

This has to be my wife’s fault! She has trained me to seek external approval for my private identity. Did I leave the seat down? Is my desk in order? All the caps on all the bottles! Bed made! Dirty clothes “IN THEIR PLACE!”

If I were a single man I would have no investment in the opinion of others. I am going to stop now because this is a very dangerous game.

The single me is a double-edged sword. On one hand, He gives zero fucks and cannot be capsized by the high waters of petty disapproval, and as a result is an unstoppable creative force. On the other hand, he probably smells horrible and dies young of some preventable skin disease or spider bite due to a complete lack of hygienic diligence.

Note to my Wife: I hope you see this for what it truly is. A profound thank you note from single me languishing in some parallel dimension, bed ridden with an aggressive strain of human mange smelling of urine and tinactin and thinking about how grateful he is that you have spared at least one version of me the same fate.

Thank you Mrs. Moulton, from both of us.

Floating Pennsylvanians

FLOATING PENNSYLVANIANS

3/22/15 On Royal Caribbean ship The Grandeur of the Seas somewhere east of the Carolinas

Great show tonight on Royal Caribbean! Let it be said that The good people of Pennsylvania are now some of my favorite people. They come from a stock of people who didn’t want to be pretentious New Yorkers, Virginian “Gentlemen Farmers” AKA slave owners, or self involved DC beltway Politicians. They just wanted to make things that mattered, do things that were true, and enjoy things that were real. 

I am only saying this because I am on a ship full of the most down to earth people and they happen to be mostly from Pennsylvania. Coincidence? I think not. 

I don’t care if you made the liberty bell yourself, made bread for Sandusky, or run an amish settlement, as long as your license plate has blue, white, and yellow, you’re alright with me!

TITAN FC REDEEMED

3/21 1:20 am Baltimore Harbor Hotel watching TITAN FC 33 Green VS Holobaugh

Round 2 and Titan FC’s Featherweight Champs are TALENTED!!!

Holobaugh is putting on a body kick clinic while “The Predator” is holding tight to his belt waiting for the takedown. 

I think Green is pissed because he had to cut his dreadlocks to make weight. He’s just lucky that it worked and he didn’t have to cut off a pound or two uh dat long black limousine.

Green started timing his wicked takedowns and Holobaugh is showing him that BJJ is king from the bottom. What a fight! Holobach is an exciting fighter.

4th round and Holobaugh is controlling the whole cage! Green’s corner is coaching him to shoot takedowns and throw Holobaugh off balance. Green is ignoring them completely and getting owned. Man Holobaugh is extremely white! It’s no ass VS lotsa ass!

5th finds more Holobach control. Green’s pushing back but Holobaugh is winning the first two minutes of the round. Green shoots and gets the takedown, Green takes the back. Holobaugh gets free and rushes Green and stuffs another takedown. He starts to take Green’s back. Going for an arm and the bell! 

GREAT FIGHT!!!!

Official split decision… New Champion Holobaugh! Green cut his hair for nothin! Use that money to by ass implants Holobaugh!

TITAN FC REDEEMED!

Better Heavies Please!

3/21/15 12:52 am Baltimore Harbor Hotel

Watching Titan FC Heavyweight championship. Madsen VS Gormley.

Madsen’s lack of kicks is clearly a problem. Gormley loves cake and that seems to be an advantage. I love watching huge dudes fighting in the heat and humidity of Alabama. 4th round and Madsen is resting in between combinations. Leaning on your knees can be very intimidating to your opponent. 5th round and I feel sorry for their pillows. These guys should fight one round then we watch another fight, then another heavyweight round and while the other fighters are in the cage the heavies can nap! Congrats Titan FC you have turned hundreds of casual viewers away from MMA. I have personally been handled by 245 pounders that have way more cardio and technique. The talent pool is deep enough to keep this exciting! Lets all do our homework in the interest of growing the sport and not creating sad sideshows.

The Harvest

3/20/15 In a plane over souther Nebraska (On my way to Baltimore)

Looking out of the plane window now for a minute or two because sleep doesn’t feel right. Wind generators dot the landscape among the circles and squares where food grows. The nameless farm folk that live for the harvest are down there. They are spread out but they have to come together as much as possible. It’s just how people are.

Wind generators spin non stop sending power out in every direction. another harvest for the people who build their whole world around harvests sending their fruits out to the cities they rather not try to understand.

In the clumps of light powered by this new energy, innumerable city people buzz with angst, fear and excitement about the newest things in their worlds. They share daily harvests of information, recreation, art, and toil. Do they feel like they are missing something or do they pity the farm folk because they are missing something? Maybe both.

So here I am, in the sky above all of it and I feel like I am missing both worlds. 

I’ll taxi at midnight tonight to an hotel near a port. In the morning I will shuttle 5 minutes to a ship where I’ll embark, settle in, eat, and perform. People might ask me “How was Baltimore?”. I’ll say “Good”. I missed it but that’s not what people like to hear. 

I’ll go to meetings on the ship, write, go to the gym, eat, and perform again. I’ll be lost in my head about what’s next week. Do I have my travel itinerary? What hotel am I at in between ships? People will ask me “How was the cruise?” I’ll say “Good” but I missed that too.

The truth is everyone has a harvest except the traveler. We touch gently and fly again, the envy of the world but only feeling the slightest vicarious satisfaction from observing the world as it runs its fingers deep into the love, hate, pain, joy, confusion, and assuredness of it’s many harvests. All the while missing out on the primitive human need to experience the harvest.

THE BRITISH ARE LYING, THE BRITISH ARE LYING!

THE BRITISH ARE LYING, THE BRITISH ARE LYING!

3/12/15 In the Post Roll Podcast studio

My sister said she saw a Russell brand special last night. She said that she enjoyed the high brow humor of the english. Then she said she didn’t appreciate the cum bubble material though. She also said he said “cunt” a lot. We both agreed that the British say “cunt” a lot because it means something different to them. It’s a more casual word there… Or is it?

I submit that we are being duped by an entire nation of clever little blokes that have found a way to call us cunts anytime they want without incurring relentless drone strikes. I say that somewhere in a mildewed building from the fourteenth century a bunch of gangly white trolls, fresh in from the fog, got together and came up with a plan to use a the most horrific word they could think of on the nation that finally shut down their failing empire.

BRITISH ACCENT “We will tell them that it means something different in our land. Yes. More of a compliment really. Your a cunt! Cunt Cunt Cunt! That’s my jolly old cunt!”

We must act now. We have to fire back at these dental hygienic anomalies. We should tell the Brits that THOT is something you call you Mom, THT means Totally Hip Trends, and TWERKING means drinking tea at you desk. As in… “Sorry mate, can’t right now I'm twerking.”

The British have a long history of deception and cannot be trusted when it comes to language or baked goods.. If you don’t believe me. enjoy your english “MUFFIN” you “CUNT”!

Team Parent

3/10/15 8pm

At home (North LA, CA) at the desk

Parenting isn’t as easy as people say it is when they say it seem impossible. I think I am getting worse at it. The longer I do it, the harder it seems and the worse  get. If I played shortstop for the Dodgers and kept getting worse every year They would have cut me loose 6 or 7 years ago. Not TEAM PARENT. Nope. As a matter of fact you HAVE to play more and more games for 18 years or more and then you don’t even get to retire. YOU HAVE TO COACH!!!

When I learn something new about parenting it usually points out that all previous parenting techniques were total bullshit and I have damaged my kids irreparably in some small way. This repeats it’s self over and over for years and that’s how humans are made. The more you try to learn about parenting, the more you find out new things and change your approach. Thus creating more perceived damage and a human that is better prepared for in imbalanced world.

Bedtime! Off to damage my kids some more.

Too Quiet

3/4/15

On a cruise ship in Ensenada, Mexico

I have been thinking a lot about how smart people are getting. Give a mind information. It will absorb some then it will research independently enough to relate to the material. Now give that same mind an endless and beautifully designed archive of everything that was and is and will be. Life becomes research and now has no end. Information compounds and the world changes in every way.

Intelligence is static but action is the glue that binds knowledge to application. So getting smart is happening at an exponential rate but is passion growing too?

Some people regurgitate a mantra. “Kids today aren’t social. They just stare at their phones and don’t interact anymore… like we did.” That’s the dividing thought. “Like we did.” 

Interaction IS their passion. The glue that sticks them to the very life consuming project that they are in the midst of.

I see them interacting. They are interacting in a completely different way. They are interacting inside of this new, swirling, exploding sea of information. Swimming through ideas and exchanging fresh thoughts. Protected from the rigid walls of the people who came before. They are hiding from US. They are hiding together in their new world. Building it as they use it. 

I hope they are able to forgive us and let us in when our world finally freezes over. I hope they will see that we had an unconscious responsibility to them. A responsibility to create the pressure they needed to roll out another level of growth. I hope they will see that by railing against the very thing they were becoming, we pushed them deeper into their world as our mentors did for us.

If it’s too loud you’re too old. If it’s to quiet… you're learning.

Minimum Bid

2/25/15

In my Garage… Post Roll Podcast studio at 1130 at night

Sooooo… I started buying art on the internet. I don’t have money to spare really so it is weird. I just reached a boiling point when it comes to blank walls in my house.

You see I married a very deliberate woman. Art is to thought out completely. Placement, color, decorative contribution to other things in the room. That’s all good but what’s the first thing to go when a business finds itself on the rocks. Advertising! Well our household is like a business. And our schedule is like the budget. We are in the red! Where can we cut? Advertising! The potential time it could take to go through every room and color match our art with the rest of our stuff could put us over the top. What for? To “advertise” to people that we are a family of well coordinated people with well coordinated artistic expressions? Clearly we have no time to wander a house hanging art in exactly the right place. At least for a month or two. Then a year… We have lived here for 4 years… NO ART!!!!! 

I don’t want to live in a comedy condo. That’s what they are like you know. One fork, and no art. We take it for granted. When you dwell in a place with no art, immeasurable negative effects impact your psyche. Well not on my watch!

I now spend my day checking ebay alerts to see if I won the bid with 25 cents. Sometimes I did. Here’s the problem. In my scramble to fill my family’s walls with positive artistic input I accidentally buy paintings or sculptures for the dreaded “minimum bid”. The guilt I feel for making some wonderful artsy go getter head down to the post office to send me their one and only creation is worse then ten houses with blank walls. I don’t know how to work the eBay app so I cant raise my bid to a respectful $5 or anything to show that I appreciate what they have put into the piece and I promise to give it a good home. Instead they probably send it off with dread in their hearts knowing that some cheap bastard will now have their baby in his cold hate filled home. I bet one in five people wipe a booger on the back of their painting. I would. 

In a few weeks My walls will be a glorious patchwork of interesting expression, covered in boogers. Then when I leave town to go make more money to buy more weird art, my wife will take down my paintings and assign me color matching projects for my return. I will dive right in until I realize that cool things don’t fit with other things… THAT’S WHY THEY’RE COOL! Then I may give up. 

Watch my eBay page. I’ll be dumping fantastically strange and original booger art at “minimum bid”.

Pivotal Moments

PIVOTAL MOMENTS

2/23/15

Cozumel, Mexico airport

Filling my time has become an art. Email, Facebook, podcasts. No wireless? An audiobook. Dead battery? A real book. 

When did I stop experiencing things. I do remember being a child so immersed in every new moment with no effort at all. I remember feeling like every single moment shimmered with possibility. Every new moment could be the pivotal one. Is that what eroded? Did I learn too much? How can I forget what I have learned? That most moments are just the passing of time.

As I sit here writing this, to pass the time, I am feeling that maybe this is a pivotal moment for me. Maybe they all are if I allow it. And now I feel the possibility of something new… from before. Possibility like sunlight dancing excitedly on the surface of so many lakes from so many memories. Each glint a pivotal moment waiting to be felt.

Wireless is up again…

Context is Important Here

CONTEXT IS IMPORTANT HERE

2/22/15

On a cruise ship in the gulf of Mexico

I admitted it to her today. I told my wife that I was sad all day. Context is important here. 

I am alone on a ship thousands of miles away from everyone I know and trust. Day 6. I am here to do what I have told others I can do well enough that they should pay me for it. I came here and told jokes to large groups of people. It’s not that that is the real challenge. It’s the aloneness you feel when you are in forced isolation. This is an astoundingly beautiful prison. Thousands of people are here because they have strived and saved to be here and I am not. Context is important here.

She didn’t seem to fully understand what I wanted from her when I allowed her inside of my vulnerable state but people seldom do. I don’t think I understood. That is until she minimized my malaise. “Don’t let one week ruin your outlook.” How many weeks am I allowed to feel this way before I can safely ruin my outlook. I can tell you that one week is exactly the amount of time it took in this case.

For anyone who reads this as a cry for something I will tell you now that it is not. This is my true expression of something we all live with like carriers of a virus that only is allowed to opportunistically take hold of our health when our immune system is compromised by environment. My emotional balance has been compromised by a strong cocktail of aloneness and open judgement. I think of myself as strong but today finds me weak. But maybe this very act of expression is evidence that I AM strong. This reaction to my condition being the beating back of the forces that put my here. I will be paid and and move on tomorrow. Flying out of Cozumel, Mexico and in time looking back at this as a positive experience in some way. Thinking myself prepared to come back again and endure the modest challenge of repetition. I have to. It’s on my calendar.

There is more to say about this but I already feel better. Maybe I can indulge now in some form of entertainment and return to a shallow but sustainable balance. She may never know how much her lack of insight into my psyche has helped today. Without it I may have held all this inside and inevitably experience a greater problem later. Context is important here.