OMGabe

by Gabe Berman – the author of Live Like a Fruit Fly

Archive for the category “self help”

Wham! Bam Thank You Ma’am. 

George Michael – 53 years old.

Carrie Fisher – 60 years old.

What could be more tragic?

Maybe the 18,000 children who die from starvation on this planet of ours.

Yearly?

No, daily.

Eighteen thousand. Kids. Dead. From not eating enough.

Everyday.

Day after day after day after day after day after day…

And we don’t hear a single squeak about it, do we?

That’s six 9/11’s. Everyday.

But just keep giving us our football and our name brands and our “lock her up”, and we’ll continue to keep our compassion reserved only for the rich and famous and friends and family.

So, what should we do about this?

I have no idea.

I just do what I can, when I can.

But I can assure you of two things:

1. If the majority of the world’s leaders wanted to end world hunger, it would be over before the rooster crows. I mean, c’mon – we put a man on the moon in 1969 for Christ’s sake. With less computing power than my goddamn iPhone. Trust me, we can figure this out. Today. If we only wanted to.

2. Electing a hate-group endorsed, silver spooned, self serving, elitist to lead the free world will not help a single soul who’s currently experiencing complete cellular failure due to malnutrition – i.e. starving to fucking death.

Thank god for you dear reader.

Thank god for you.

– gb

“Vote Republican,” said Jesus Never.

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Vengeance Is “Mine”


I thought about crushing his legs between my car and the Mercedes in front of me, but only for a fleeting moment.

It wasn’t really me though. Just a few thousand rouge neurons, out of the trillions in my brain, firing with fiery rage.

I was stuck in traffic and saw a guy blatantly toss a food wrapper to the ground.

He proceeded to cross the street, right in front of my car, and I really wanted to be karma’s delivery boy.

Crunch.

There you go mother fucker.

There.

You.

Go.

Littering career: over.

Thank you very little.

“Gabe, this isn’t very spiritual of you. This isn’t the Gabe I know. You’ve disappointed me.”

Good. Go read someone else’s words.

I don’t exist to offer sugary spoonfuls of what you’re expecting to hear.

(Obviously I’m not talking to you. I’m addressing everyone else but you).

I only exist as this expression of existence and sometimes this expression of existence is tempted to express itself as the righter of wrongs.

And sometimes I do.

But I swear, it’s out of love. The toughest of love. For all involved.

If not me, then who?

Right, there’s you.

Thank god for you.

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What’s The Point Of Being Here?

A women I often see in Starbucks told another woman I often see in Starbucks about my book.

Wow, that sentence really sucks.

Take two: Two women I see often in Starbucks were talking about my book.

One of them just asked me….wait…now it seems like I walked into Starbucks and these two chicks were sitting there with espressos, chatting about my book. Which isn’t what happened, but, whatever.

Oh, by the way, it’s “espresso”. Do you see a goddamn “x” in that word? No. You don’t. So, for the love of all things holy, stop saying expresso. Thank you.

Anyway…One of them just asked me, “So, what’s the purpose of fruit flies?”

She wasn’t inquiring about why my book exists. For that, I would have smacked her right in the teeth.

She actually wanted to know about fruit flies in general. As in: if they die so quickly, what’s the point?

It’s really a great question if you think about it.

And the only answer that seemed adequate at the time was, “When I figure out what my purpose is, I’ll get to the fruit flies next.”

But now that I write this, I realize I already know what my purpose is.

My purpose is to live. Live until I no longer live.

Hence, it’s the same for good old fruit flies.

I’m just trying to live as gracefully as they do.

And as you know, it ain’t always easy.

I’m trying though. I’m really trying.

— please check out and support my new site www.DoYouNeedAMiracle.com thank you —

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“I Will Make You Fishers Of Men”

Forty-two years ago today, my dad woke up and decided to go fishing.

My mom said, “I don’t think so.”

They went to the hospital instead and came home with me.

And just a few years later, he took me fishing.

And to soccer games. And to car shows and to boat shows and to pizza places. And when my sister’s kids were born, more pizza places.

We fought too. A lot.

I miss him a little bit more today than I usually do.

It’s bizarrely warm out now for the middle of October, so my mom and I are sitting on a bench on the boardwalk in Long Beach.

I need to be more forgiving with her. We’re all headed to the same place.

On the drive over here, I was listening to the Blues Brothers soundtrack. It was one of my dad’s top favorites and mine too of course. He labeled the blank CD after burning the album from me on his super-slow laptop many years ago.

I stared at his handwriting before pulling out of the driveway today.

As I was parking by the beach, the live version of Everybody Needs Somebody To Love started playing. It opens up with Elwood Blues saying, “…please remember people, that no matter who you are and what you do to live, thrive and survive, there’re still some things that makes us all the same. You, me, them, everybody.”

— please check out and support my new site www.DoYouNeedAMiracle.com thank you —

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Beauty For The Sake Of Itself

I’ve quit, completely cold turkey, many times.

I’d be in the shower or maybe in Starbucks and out of nowhere I’d say to myself, “That’s it, I quit. I’m never writing again.”

Why should I even bother anymore?

I thought I’d be a bestseller by now. But the cold truth is, hardly anyone reads my stuff. Even when I give it away for free.

So, what’s the point?

The point is this: I can’t let myself be a goddamn hypocrite. The world is full of them and I’m sure as hell not going to add to the murky mess.

Discouraged authors and artists often ask me, “Why should I continue trying?”

I always respond with a strong dose of, “If you can add beauty to the world, do so. Even if no one will ever see it.”

Because beauty, for the sake of beauty, is important. Important as anything else or maybe even more so.

And imagine if you reach just one person. I mean, really reach them. Deep down in their soul.

A women in Sweden read through my blog today. The one, statistically speaking, you’re probably not reading right now.

She sent me an email saying, “Im smiling and I’m thankful for your writing and I feel honored to read it. If you knew my story you will see how magical i feel this is… Me sitting here reading your words. And how much they mean to me and truly speak to my innermost essence…it’s a miracle.”

That surely doesn’t pay my bills. Shit, it doesn’t even pay for this cup of coffee I’ve been nursing.

But it justifies my writing. It justifies my entire existence.

I was able to make someone glow who lives halfway around the world. Just by doing what I knew I needed to do.

Maybe I’ll never be a bestseller. And maybe you’ll never play for the Yankees or have your work hang in the Louvre or teach penguins how to play parcheesi.

Regardless, people who aren’t aware that they’re counting on you, are counting on you.

If you’ve been given gifts, share them.

And please check out and support my new site: www.DoYouNeedAMiracle.com

Thank you…

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