I visited . well the last post didn't go through. And I rarely remember as I write, because its an emptying process. I hate spelling. I wish some monkey could read what I'm thinking and just dash it out and alter as I read his stuff on the monitor. That would really excel and improve my capabilities at writing and thinking. Out loud is good. Thinking out loud that is. Anyways I visited Shinji in SF.

I did not make it to second rounds with Google for the Compensation Analyst. I botched the interview with Rutberg, the Investment Associate position for their IB department in SF. Friday is , Callan Associates- a Performance Analyst position. I'm liking this font, as I write.

I need a new book. I've got a bunch on finance, corporate valuation, and shit. And I still failed miserably at the phone interviews. What was it I wrote before that was good, before it disappeared and I'm sitting here writing again- the same post- now its totally different. - but anyways, -- yes - Good experience makes you learn hard. Its a tough one.

Hopefully , I land something. I've applied to Stanford for some intermediary positions. Something. Madhu was in Orleans' , now in Virginia. He had food poisoning.

I've somehow got sick. Rarely do I write about personal stuff.
Oh Yeah , Kosuge Yamagishi- he has a clothing line, Soft Machine- some sweet pieces; mostly targeted at a certain group. I've always wanted to create t-shirts. I just hate what I can't ever get. His stuff is expensive, but hey, the Japanese, what did you expect; Quality= Cost. Never go wrong , I suppose. I like his style. Mine is different- what I am imagining, a bigger audience. But not the douche bags- particularly the white boys. No offense.

But, I will stick to the foods, lotions, & soaps for now. Like my backhand. After I get an income going, the capital will be there for me to start. There is a college somewhere near by, that offers instruction as far as making your own jeans and stuff. I think denim is a good medium. I prefer slacks but they are dangerous for unannounced missions.

Besides feeling miserable, and drinking some SleepyTime Tea, now that my ginseng flower stuff has run out, (American products are such rubbish!).

My dream is to, also cultivate all the food I will need in and on my house- literally. I experimented with a mint plant- Chocolate Mint- on my roof- its surviving. Pollution is a problem. And the other method of planting my house has adopted- which has circulated these annoying flies. Anyways , I plan to start a herb garden on the roof - in Spring (next three to four weeks)- Rosemary, Lemongrass, Sage, Thyme, and Basil. The quatro formaggio for me.

Bah Oui. (Thats how I always hear it, duh.)

There will be new concoctions. Secretive. I didn't realize people actually read what I write. Well, sometimes that is.

I read a horrible story of a pioneer of Rosemary. I admire such people. Gardens, Plants, water, trees, nutrition, people- those are the things my mind flows towards. With my money, I would like to create some new projects- first to run some income stream so I can live, second, to make some grooves in my lifetime, give the art of my life in the way I have interpreted the Master.

Time to kick into gear for Yoga, and some biking. I may venture to Santa Cruz. Mountain View is beautiful, but too many folks. I want seclusion, well as much as I can get without worrying of some crazy white fellow attacking me for no reason.

I plan to write a book on Horitoshi Family and my experience with them too, in a few years; after I've got all my stuff done- I want particularly, specially from one person- Horitoku- a white dragon and his signature peonies- or whichever flower- sakura, kiku, water lily, no matter and before its too late, he's old. His style is unique and strong. Semblance to Horitoshi- but different too. I like it , a lot. I wish to brush up on my Japanese with that Rosetta Stone Madhu has, apparently the entire DVD of languages. I'll incorporate what my Master said about religion, spirituality, and life- and my feelings from meditation and Vivekananda's words too- His words ring in my heart like a deep fire. They pour oblations to the great Mother. The same Mother he worshiped. The same Truth for centuries, all wise sages before my time, worshipped. The same holy ground She walked , walks, and will walk, for the cycle of life is eternal. Hindu Philosophy can only be understood if coupled with meditation. Meditation is a deep word. That great Being described it- I cannot understand her words, for me , she came in the stream of my thoughts, the buzzing, of my inner sanctum, whispered in my efforts to keep silence. Great things come from that silence, the wisdom of the ages, draws in, like magnet pulling iron. The force of God is so great. It is not the Mahatma, that matters. The principle must be understood.

I feel I have come a long way, but the journey has only begun. Life is a long journey, with no end. Death is but the beginning, in it we flower. So says, the Great Ones, my Great One. The wisdom of the sages ring in my hear, as life continually progresses, the depth of my eyes grows too, I hope I continue to unfold with Her grace. Without building a foundation early, we will never move forward. Then time cheats us. But if built correct, with guidance and humility, in old age we will welcome the great Master, the Heart's champion, once more into the deep corridor , the longing entry passage, of the Heart- where we have cherished the desire for Her to walk. That only that great Love which like a spring , bursts in its current and removes us far away , to never return, to cease the endless plays, to make one final exit of the drama of life and death.

Great harbringer ! They say in her anger, is an explosion. So said a wise Sage. The explosion of infinite conciousness. That's what he said. And I finally made understanding of it today. My life is dedicated to that purpose, to unlocking the secrets of life. Whatever quest, I take, that is the very end, the last breath, to sink , into the bottomless pit. Vivekanada was a lion, me more of a mousy bug. He never compromised, not in the weak way- out of selfishness- but the heroic way- he stood his beliefs to the end. What a man! What a master he must of had ! What love must of penetrated his skull and convinced the very fiber of his blood to flow in which direction! And what a Mother he worshipped ! If even Men, Sages like him, fail to break her silence, how will I , a tiny vessel , welcome such electric current.

But I understood it. In her great anger, is the dissolution. The end. It is not really then end. It is an awakening. An uproar. That is the end for you. It is the channeling, the current from which pure light enters your heart. So you should pray, may your fury have no mercy for me, Wild Creature of the Night !, Goddess of the Soul! Purpreator of my Heart ! Crazy denzien of the conscious Truth! Slice from the limbs, the terrible act of murder, end this I, so there is only You left. Only You, and not me. You.

The ocean is used as a metaphor to God. It does not actually represent Her. What can represnt that which is Beyond ? We use our minds to decorate around so me may make a form and then transcend it with our growth. So even those who study Vedanata, are wasting their time. Those are not the true conceptions of God. No man can write. It is felt. A grand experience, throughout living . Everything else is a failed attempt. But Vivekananda, would never accept defeat. Never fail his faith. When asked would he doubt, would he doubt if - his Master was seen in a room - making it with a sullen woman. He said, what did he say, that lion of a being. - that he would question his very eye- in its sight before he questioned his master. Ah, what love, what premam, what affection for the soul- the kindred one, who would be responsible for awakening that Titan. And only once , once, he spoke of his Master. But he failed too. Or so he felt. That is deeply touching to me. Do you know what great love is like ? You only read it. Or express it with your Husband or Wife. But a real great love. It is never spoken. Words pollute it. We whine, in front of the Master for her affection, like a begging dog. But a great love is humble, yes, but it is deep. Quiet. And never loud to voice its concern for being loved. It is love. That great depth , is felt and reserved for big tankers, carrying many souls. But I know what they must be like. Vivekananda was love flowing, always. He said He was a Jnani on the outside, but a Bhakta on the inside, while His Master was a Bhakta on the outside, but a Jnani on the inside.

His words cannot be understood in a lifetime. Love such as that. To never be spoken of. How much his Master loved him. And how much he treasured that love. It would awaken the Titan in him, the Great Sage who saw no fear, who wore a turban (not out of religion) but to encompass all India - when he went abroad. India has forgotten the light of her Children. The great ones who descend in human form, to awaken the masses. It shows little respect for the present day.

Great Masters are standing for a Principle, which must be understood. And followed. Otherwise disaster arrives. Like the case of Buddha. Sages in India would disagree with the forms of worship that are prevalent and thought or mistaken to be true Buddhist philosophy. The Indian Buddha, Gautama Siddharata- pronounced a different mentality than that which Asia has twisted and perverted into differents sects and cryptic language. Buddha never asked to be worshipped, himself, he specifically forbode his followers from doing so. Yet, what do we see. Statues all over Asia. Man mistakes the being for the Principle, without first studying the Principle first, and himself merging into that, and then worshipping that Being as one Self.