It sure is pretty outside today. I grabbed up my banana-based lunch , walked down to the river and sat on a rock that knows my name.
Or at least it recognized my ass.
"Hello", said my new granite friend, literally talking up my arse.
My world is pretty unusual, so a talking stone is nothing remarkable. I'm more surprised when they don't speak. You'd think a talking rock would have a "gravely" voice, but this one sounded more like a chipmunk or a rabbit. Like I said, it's a strange world.
"MMMpphhh", I replied, my mouth stuffed with fruit. I'm annoyed. The first word anyone has said to me all day and it has to come from a goddamned boulder while I'm eating. This is so typical...
"Remember me? I bet you do," teased the stone.
There's entire decades I cannot remember-how in Godzilla's name am I supposed to recall this quite unremarkable grey rock?
But I do remember. The last time I sat on this rock I wasn't alone. This is where Alicia and I used to go to get high during work, way back in 2000. My first office affair started right here.
Nowadays there's a new path and public park , but back then it was much more secluded.
Those were good days. For a while.
They were not so long ago.
I wonder what ever happened to Alicia?
No I don't. I don't care.
She used me up and threw me away and nothing's been right for me since.
Damn you, Grey Boulder!
Shhh... that sound...the stone is laughing at me. In her voice. This is unfair!
So I do the only sensible thing. I stand, turn and kick the rock in it's side.
Take that!
Oww! oww! I think I broke my foot.
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yeah. I do. I probably shouldn't but I do."
"Good."
There's a sound like a giant egg cracking and suddenly my rock has gone. There's some shiny pebbles and non-descript rubble, but it doesn't look anything like the stone seat that I'd been talking to. I poke the debris with my other foot.
There's a bracelet in there.
I know that bracelet. That bracelet is right where it belongs, so I leave it be.
It can keep my cast-off banana peel company. They are mates.
There's a gull circling overhead. I wonder if it's attracted to shiny things? Probably more interested in the peel.
Me? I no longer care about seagulls, peels or jewelry.
It's a nice day and I have better things to do.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
I'm an Unrepentant Wanker
With my history I probably shouldn't make fun of other people's problems-
but I do it anyway. I sometimes laugh at people weaker than myself.
Rotten habit, really. It's an addiction, I suppose, since I really can't help it... but really-
sometimes it's just too easy .
besides-that's a joke site isn't it? please tell me it is)
Here's how I single-handedly beat my porn addiction:
tried to
-First I tried to remove all porn from the Web. I downloaded about ten million pics before I was told that downloading things from the Internet didn't actually remove them from the Web, it just creates a copy on your own computer. That you can use. Whenever you want.
-So I was forced to sift through many gigs of electronic filth , carefully "editing" each and every photograph into such forms that could no longer place me in danger of becoming "excited" and consequently abuse myself.
This was a very time-consuming task.Some photos required multiple editing sessions...
...eventually I had a hard drive full of images such as this:
The clever use of technology has rendered the demons impotent!
And I can always change it back should my wife ever leave me. I'm fairly certain that she shall, come to think of it.
*ahem*
Dude! perhaps the internet is not such a good place for you to be right now- get thee to a Church !
but I do it anyway. I sometimes laugh at people weaker than myself.
Rotten habit, really. It's an addiction, I suppose, since I really can't help it... but really-
sometimes it's just too easy .
besides-that's a joke site isn't it? please tell me it is)
Here's how I single-handedly beat my porn addiction:
tried to
-First I tried to remove all porn from the Web. I downloaded about ten million pics before I was told that downloading things from the Internet didn't actually remove them from the Web, it just creates a copy on your own computer. That you can use. Whenever you want.
-So I was forced to sift through many gigs of electronic filth , carefully "editing" each and every photograph into such forms that could no longer place me in danger of becoming "excited" and consequently abuse myself.
This was a very time-consuming task.Some photos required multiple editing sessions...
...eventually I had a hard drive full of images such as this:
The clever use of technology has rendered the demons impotent!
And I can always change it back should my wife ever leave me. I'm fairly certain that she shall, come to think of it.
*ahem*
Dude! perhaps the internet is not such a good place for you to be right now- get thee to a Church !
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
My Bulb is Dim
My stomach hurt today- this is something that I need to report to my doctor (long story)
So I do.
I'll spare the details, but there's no sign of any internal bleeding- probably just lingering flu side effects- or the onset of another flu attack. Whatever.
I can deal with the flu-that's nothing.
So Doc asks me how long it's been since I had a drink.
Hmm...lessee...six and a half months. Almost seven.
I am not a counter of days in this matter- this surprises Doc.
Am I going to meetings?
No. I don't intend to.
Am I staying current on my medications?
No. I stopped the anti-depressants. They were falsifying my thoughts. I only use the Xanax when I'm totally freaking out. This happens less than it used to. A lot less, now that I think about it.
Well. Bad marks for me on the meetings and the self-changing of meds, good marks for the soberiety and lessening panic attacks. We talk about my "support system" - or rather my lack of one.
Do I really think I'm strong enough to do this alone? (I'm afraid we're getting ready to lurch over into Ted Sermonville, M.D. - Doc is great, but he gets kinda Jesus-y sometimes...)
I don't know. I'll never know if I keep using pills to control my moods.
I'll never know what I'm capable of until I no longer depend on anyone or anything for anything.
Even if it's just for a day.
There. I said it.
I can't take it back.
I am acting against Medical Advice.
What a freaking rebel!
As is usual, I am wrong. Doc is glad that I don't want more pills. He tells me that I'm still having post-trauma stress issues- which should have been totally obvious to me- something I hadn't really considered. I am quite thick when it comes to self-evaluation, it seems.
From Doc's perspective, it's amazing that I can function on any level-much less maintain what is a more -or-less a normal life- without some sort of guidance , program or outside assistance. It's really dangerous to do this, I am told for the millionth time. Yes, I know. Some mild Jesus-talk gets tossed at me. I'm a godless heathen, but I don't get bent out of shape at a private and sincere Jesus moment. It's the thought that counts, right?
Still, I am urged to seek outside help. Or Help.
I say OK, but I have no plan to do so.There's no Grail of Divine Intervention when it comes to fighting these particular demons. If I stumble across something that "helps" as I wander through this new world I'm living in, well that's great. But it'll find me, not the other way around.
For me it has to be that way.
Hmmm...well, if it's working, stay with it. But don't be afraid to ask.
It seems like I'm facing some sort of reality- it's getting very subjective in here so it's hard to tell anymore- and that's a start. I hope it's a start.
It's a start already! Now wouldja finish something for once?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Mood Orbit
If something can't be explained with a simple annoying chart it's probably not worth explaining. For example: you could pin a handy pictorial guide to moods on your shirt, thus removing any possibilty of ambiguity during communication. I think that some form of cartoony face is the preferred form of electronic communication for the younger set already, so the idea of wearing a Mood Indicator should catch on pretty quickly. This will prevent a great deal of misunderstanding , thus preventing many mistakes, which in turn will lower the overall Calamity Level.
We can use some of that .
Of course, if you are anything like me you won't see this as a Mood Indicator. You will see it as a Mood Dictator.
I look at that chart and the first thing I want to do is play "Spin the Mood Wheel". Whee!
Man, wouldn't that simplify things? Of course it wouldn't. It would make things ridiculously complicated- which is how I like it. I'd have to change the "BORED" face to something else- with so many changing moods you never know what you'll get - but you won't be bored or boring.
Intolerable and institutionalized, yes. Bored, boring-not so much.
Let's change "BORED" to "MEDICATED". I would do this using a Paint program but the pills are starting to kick in and I'm getting lazy.
So instead of words, I'll use another handy visual aid:
As this illustrates , one can see that this whole mess is X's fault. X has something to do with degenerates- perhaps this is the sort of personality X attracts or maybe it's just bad luck.Whatever the case, it's critical to something or other. We don't know for sure because we don't know who 'X' is- that's why they're called X. It's like a secret code name.
All we can do is wonder at the reasoning behind X's erratic and sometimes dangerous behavior.
Why ? is a word that gets used a lot. (expressed as y above )
Do we need more medication? Perhaps we just need better visual aids.
Let's change the abstract in order to alter the concrete. This is easy and it's cheaper than drugs.
Ready? Go!
Think warm and fuzzy thoughts....
Aaaaannnnddd......
PUPPIES!
See how easy that is? Why can't we all have puppies all the time? Is there a Puppy Channel on TV? Why is it so easy to get puppies out of pills and bottles? (These questions are so stupid they answer each other -Ed.)
Uh oh. Unwanted thoughts...warm and fuzzy, warm and fuzzy...
BUNNY!
That wasn't so bad.
Never underestimate the power of positive thinking. If you want to get metaphysical gobblegookery about it you can even tell yourself that anything that can happen will happen on some parallel universe. Just imagine that you live in that universe and it shall become so.
PLANET SMILEY!See? Mars smiles on you. A happy person would see this as an astronomical smiley face, but I can't help but get all mythological about the consequences of receiving the grin of a War God. That sucks. I like thinking about planets. I think space stuff is cool.
PLANET LOVE!Look! It's working! Surely this is a sign.
Mars is pleased.
Oh wait. I forgot- we really don't want Mars to be pleased do we? I mean, isn't he, like all about strife and conflict and stuff?
It's kinda negative.
Well...let's be decent and see how he does this time around. No hard feelings and sorry 'bout last time, eh?
******************************************************
Damn! That actually worked! Amazing.
A Change in Approach
Note: Since I posted this yesterday I've already gotten one phone call and several emails (and a comment/question) congratulating me on my much-deserved success. Well, in reality it's just another failure on my part- this time it's my inability to write clearly.
Since I lack the skills to convey what I mean by writing I will resort to highlighting and adding notes to crucial portions of this and re-posting it. I apologize again.
Just when I thought it was all hopeless:
- I get a phone call from a local studio. Sorry 'bout the recent misunderstanding , am I available to come work? They'd like me to start directly, which means I can quit my day job. That's great because this job is destroying me faster than I can describe it.
(This dream is kaput for now. Not in my control)
- A recent dream of reunion with a long-lost lover has come true. I'm pretty easy to track down on the internet if anyone cares to look- and it seems that someone has cared.
I'd almost forgotten how much she meant to me, but it seems she's not forgotten me at all. We shall now forget the past and concentrate instead on our future. My abyss is already half-full.
(This is me torturing myself. When I understand my need to do this, I will gladly explain it)
- Two of Fallentown's best musicians are putting together a new band, but they don't have a singer/guitarist. Somehow they got a copy of one of my CDs and liked it. Would I be interested in joining?
It might involve touring- am I available to travel? Yes and yes.
(This is just another illusion. The reality is that being around bands all the time without getting to jam with anyone is killing me. It's like watching the Food Channel and fasting)
What does this mean?
It means I should start writing pure fiction. I'm already off to a good start.
Meanwhile back in the real world, I rest my head on my plastic desk and pretend that my sobs are snores.
Snobs are sores.
I'm starry about this.
-Apollo G
The rest was just bad punnery intended to inject a bit of levity after that stark transition back to reality. Sorry about the confusion and thanks for the nice thoughts. One day, perhaps.All is not lost-but I am kinda bummed . It'll pass.
Let's Give Stupid Lessons
This man is an idiot. Of course, he'll use semantics and rhetoric to make his case- in front of that most rigorously critical and learned of juries (high school seniors)- I mean even I , a devout "evolutionist", will admit that it's possible that we are all made by God- it's possible that we were created by robots from Alpha Centurai- but that's obscuring the driveway for the pavement.
One needn't look far to find evidence supporting evolution but it's pretty fucking difficult to find a way to claim the Earth is only 6,000 years old without sounding terribly stupid and wholly uninformed about basic geology.
If you tell me that the fossilized remains of dinosaurs are tricks planted in the Earth by Satan in order to lead us astray, I will ask you what the Hell you think you are putting in your gasoline tank and tell you that you should consider your car to be an Infernal Combustion Engine-stop driving it now.
Give me your car- my soul is already doomed, so it's too late for me.
You can walk. It was good enough for Abraham, it's good enough for you.
I wouldn't really have a problem with teaching "creationism" in public schools if Churches would devote a few hours a week to teaching Darwinism. I mean, the whole argument is about the free exchange of ideas, is it not?
Bullshit. It's about forcing religion down our throats.
'Intelligent Design' is such bad science that you cannot even call it a theory in the true scientific sense- it's just a belief. Superstition.
What sort of thinking mind looks at the Universe and says, "Wow. It sure is complicated. Since I am too dim-witted to even attempt to understand the world around me it necessarily follows that some sort of Omnipotent Invisible Cloud Being made everything according to some supernal whim" ?
In other words, you have equated Ignorance with Faith. That does make sense.
Progress
We are making progress in Iraq.
"Baghdad provincial governor Hussein al-than said he would halt all cooperation with U.S. forces."
Nevermind the fact that we spent billions of dollars and thousands of lives just to install a government that hates us more than the Baathists ever did- which isn't surprising since U.S. Marines were not going wahoo My Lai apeshit on Iraqi civilians while Saddam was in charge-but we've also managed to ruin our international credibility for the foreseeable future. If there is a future.
(It surely must be coincidence that the only studies that dispute man's effect on climate change are funded by EXXON/MOBILE. Also a coincidence: Exxon's profit's have broken all records since the Iraq invasion. No wonder they had the money to fund all those "scientific" studies.)
In fact, Saddam was quite a bit more cooperative than the current thugs in charge-most of whom will probably be assassinated inside of a week anyway- he was actually telling the truth
when he said there were no WMDs. If you were paying attention, you'd remember that the UN inspectors were pulled out by Bush so he could get his war on- not because Saddam threw them out.
With Saddam in power, we needn't have worried so much about Iran. The constant strife between secular Iraq and Fundamentalist Iran helped keep both countries in a sort of check- plus we got to make money selling weapons to BOTH sides -sweet! - now Iraq seems destined to be ruled by the same despotic Islamic theocrats that currently rule Iran.
Hmmm.... Andy Card resigns. Big fucking deal.
This quote says a lot: "He called us his `four horsemen,"' Cellucci recalled of the elder Bush. "And that's when we got to know the current president and the whole family."
That's a pretty scary nickname considering that our current Bush is a Born-Again Evangelical Psychopath who gets a boner when he thinks of the Apocalypse.
Big fun ahead.
"Baghdad provincial governor Hussein al-than said he would halt all cooperation with U.S. forces."
Nevermind the fact that we spent billions of dollars and thousands of lives just to install a government that hates us more than the Baathists ever did- which isn't surprising since U.S. Marines were not going wahoo My Lai apeshit on Iraqi civilians while Saddam was in charge-but we've also managed to ruin our international credibility for the foreseeable future. If there is a future.
(It surely must be coincidence that the only studies that dispute man's effect on climate change are funded by EXXON/MOBILE. Also a coincidence: Exxon's profit's have broken all records since the Iraq invasion. No wonder they had the money to fund all those "scientific" studies.)
In fact, Saddam was quite a bit more cooperative than the current thugs in charge-most of whom will probably be assassinated inside of a week anyway- he was actually telling the truth
when he said there were no WMDs. If you were paying attention, you'd remember that the UN inspectors were pulled out by Bush so he could get his war on- not because Saddam threw them out.
With Saddam in power, we needn't have worried so much about Iran. The constant strife between secular Iraq and Fundamentalist Iran helped keep both countries in a sort of check- plus we got to make money selling weapons to BOTH sides -sweet! - now Iraq seems destined to be ruled by the same despotic Islamic theocrats that currently rule Iran.
Hmmm.... Andy Card resigns. Big fucking deal.
This quote says a lot: "He called us his `four horsemen,"' Cellucci recalled of the elder Bush. "And that's when we got to know the current president and the whole family."
That's a pretty scary nickname considering that our current Bush is a Born-Again Evangelical Psychopath who gets a boner when he thinks of the Apocalypse.
Big fun ahead.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Take A Deep Breath
I few months ago I heard Ron play a guitar solo that sounded like the photograph above. You can't capture that kind of moment, even if you are recording it- but it sticks with you.
Tonight I was feelin' kinda down and Ron called . Good timing.
I got to tell him about that solo and how absolutely fucking perfect it was.
I'd been meaning to mention it for a while- I was glad I got a chance to tell him about it.
Usually I'm telling him how sick I am of having to hear him play all the time, so my compliment took us both by surprise.
I've been playing guitar again. I can play for about 45 minutes before my left arm gets a little wiggy. This is good news- a few years ago I was told I might lose that arm entirely but it's fine today. Just takes a while to get the strength back-gotta practice more. It'll get better over time.
-------
I got home today and realized that half my key-chain was missing. The half with my house key on it. Bummer.
I drove to work today, so I drove back and my keys were right there on the ground where I'd parked. Yeah!
When I finally got home my computer told me it was initializing a memory dump. I don't know what that is, but it wouldn't respond to any commands. It shut down.
I turned it on.
Nothing.
Off.
On.
Nothing.
This my only computer-fixing trick.
One more time.
It works. Everything seems OK. No virus found.
My alarm clock is blinking. Must have been a power surge or something.
Everything seems rational and easy to deal with. I got some small bit of bad news from Ron that I'll have to deal with shortly, but it's nothing major.
I don't know why I was so freaked out earlier- outside of my Workbox things don't seem so bad.
I think they pump some sort of mild psychedelic drug into our vent system and it's triggering acid flashbacks. This is one of the sanest thoughts I had at work today.
Tomorrow I'll try not to think until after 5:30. It's a lot better that way.
Get The Fuck Over It
Dude.
Get a grip.
It's just a job.
Everybody has a bad day.
Do not push that bad day to the edge.
O
v
e
r
And out!
Out is good.
So alright already. Calm down.
I swear -you can be such an asshole sometimes
I don't know why I even bother
with you anymore
Get a grip.
It's just a job.
Everybody has a bad day.
Do not push that bad day to the edge.
O
v
e
r
And out!
Out is good.
So alright already. Calm down.
I swear -you can be such an asshole sometimes
I don't know why I even bother
with you anymore
Fade
I died twice on my thirty-fourth birthday. It was a murder/suicide.
Born September 15, 1966- Died September 15, 2000.
Symmetry.
R.I.P.
I apologize for all the spooky hauntings and poltergeist activity. I'll cut it out once I figure out something better to do with all this "free" time.
See ya around.
Born September 15, 1966- Died September 15, 2000.
Symmetry.
R.I.P.
I apologize for all the spooky hauntings and poltergeist activity. I'll cut it out once I figure out something better to do with all this "free" time.
See ya around.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Lucas & Films
By Lucas, I refer to guitarist Gary Lucas, who forced his acoustic guitar to make sounds that most guitar players would consider impossible. That is because they don't know how to properly use old-fashioned stomp-box FX. That's all thatLucas used- dozens of them through a stereo pair of borrowed amps. Most players can't pull that off without degenerating into useless dissonance . Most guitar players are idiots when it comes to FX.
Lucas is no idiot. He is a bit of a tightwad, however. More on that later.
His sonic landscapes were the perfect soundtrack to the films shown - or the films were the perfect backdrop for the unearthly sounds produced by Lucas' guitars- depends on what you like, I suppose.
The films were by early 20th century dadaists and surrealists and featured things like animated insects in adulterous comedies, lips, lots of reflections, Swedish ballerinas , leaping Frenchmen and Man Ray playing chess on a rooftop with some famous guy whose name escapes me.
All set to live music , of course.
My life-long best pal Ron and his band (Hotel X) got to jam with Mr. Lucas.
Ron has always dressed funnily but he's an amazing musician.
I wish I could tell you what a great guy Gary Lucas is but I hardly spoke with him. Ron introduced us - Lucas seemed more interested in my 'Australia' jersey than my feeble utterances- it was crowded anyway. No time for chit-chat.
So I was checking out his CD's- quite an interesting lot and I had exactly $15 on me, which was the asking price- but which one to pick? I didn't mind spending my last dollar- I really wanted a CD. He had five or six and they all looked like something I'd like . Which to buy?
Mr. Lucas decided for me.
He made some sort of remark about the affluence of the crowd (?) and raised the price of the CDs to $20 while I was looking at them. I laughed- surely he was just kidding, right?
Uh, no.
Or if he was, it was a pretty subtle in-joke and I, alas, was out.
Oh well. No CD for me. It was a great show anyway.
Lucas is no idiot. He is a bit of a tightwad, however. More on that later.
His sonic landscapes were the perfect soundtrack to the films shown - or the films were the perfect backdrop for the unearthly sounds produced by Lucas' guitars- depends on what you like, I suppose.
The films were by early 20th century dadaists and surrealists and featured things like animated insects in adulterous comedies, lips, lots of reflections, Swedish ballerinas , leaping Frenchmen and Man Ray playing chess on a rooftop with some famous guy whose name escapes me.
All set to live music , of course.
My life-long best pal Ron and his band (Hotel X) got to jam with Mr. Lucas.
Ron has always dressed funnily but he's an amazing musician.
I wish I could tell you what a great guy Gary Lucas is but I hardly spoke with him. Ron introduced us - Lucas seemed more interested in my 'Australia' jersey than my feeble utterances- it was crowded anyway. No time for chit-chat.
So I was checking out his CD's- quite an interesting lot and I had exactly $15 on me, which was the asking price- but which one to pick? I didn't mind spending my last dollar- I really wanted a CD. He had five or six and they all looked like something I'd like . Which to buy?
Mr. Lucas decided for me.
He made some sort of remark about the affluence of the crowd (?) and raised the price of the CDs to $20 while I was looking at them. I laughed- surely he was just kidding, right?
Uh, no.
Or if he was, it was a pretty subtle in-joke and I, alas, was out.
Oh well. No CD for me. It was a great show anyway.
Now and Why
So there's this guy , see, and he spray paints the word "now" on a few driveways and then walks into a house party and starts blazing away with two firearms. Fuck.
Why did he do this? Perhaps a reason will be found, perhaps not. There will certainly be plenty of guesswork, rumours and speculation.
Here in Fallentown, 2006 started with a murder spree, including the murder of my old business neighbor and her entire family. This town was full of bullshit rumours and media asswipes intent on causing pain for the victim's families and friends. It turned out that she and the others were killed by total strangers for no reason.
For no fucking reason.
Anyway. Back to the now.
Given the theme of the party, I'd wager that many links- spurious or not - will be made between this incident and video games, heavy metal music, horror movies and so on.
The fact that marijuana was present will no doubt receive some play as well.
(Hmm... just clicked on the TV and there's nothing on this story- amazing, since this is the kind of story cable news loves-oh there's a NASCAR death... maybe the families of the Seattle victims will be granted some reprieve. It's probably a media shitstorm in the NW). Nevermind. it's everywhere...sheeesh. *click*
Maybe the investigators will find a twenty-page expository text in which the killer details the motivation for his actions -probably not- but that doesn't really matter now.
Because there can't be a reason.
There never is.
Why did he do this? Perhaps a reason will be found, perhaps not. There will certainly be plenty of guesswork, rumours and speculation.
Here in Fallentown, 2006 started with a murder spree, including the murder of my old business neighbor and her entire family. This town was full of bullshit rumours and media asswipes intent on causing pain for the victim's families and friends. It turned out that she and the others were killed by total strangers for no reason.
For no fucking reason.
Anyway. Back to the now.
Given the theme of the party, I'd wager that many links- spurious or not - will be made between this incident and video games, heavy metal music, horror movies and so on.
The fact that marijuana was present will no doubt receive some play as well.
(Hmm... just clicked on the TV and there's nothing on this story- amazing, since this is the kind of story cable news loves-oh there's a NASCAR death... maybe the families of the Seattle victims will be granted some reprieve. It's probably a media shitstorm in the NW). Nevermind. it's everywhere...sheeesh. *click*
Maybe the investigators will find a twenty-page expository text in which the killer details the motivation for his actions -probably not- but that doesn't really matter now.
Because there can't be a reason.
There never is.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
I Leave The House Twice In One Day
After an awesome afternoon of covering the local airwaves with my own peculiar favorite 1980's music I shall now sally forth and meet one of my favorite players of peculiar music- the redoubtable Gary Lucas , late of Captain Beefheart's Magic Band.
Believe it or not, I am so cool that I will get to hang out with Mr. Lucas and other the musicians backstage.
After twenty -odd years of live music/sound/playing/recording etc. I'm pretty blase about going to see bands, but I'm psyched about this show. It promises to be full of guitary goodness!
Check his site- free mp3s!
Believe it or not, I am so cool that I will get to hang out with Mr. Lucas and other the musicians backstage.
After twenty -odd years of live music/sound/playing/recording etc. I'm pretty blase about going to see bands, but I'm psyched about this show. It promises to be full of guitary goodness!
Check his site- free mp3s!
Picture, Words, Sounds
This is a picture I took in Chicago in 2002. The actual globe isn't much larger than a basketball.Here is a song I recorded in 2001. I'd just had my heart broken and was all lamenting and stuff. Actually, I was so stoned I barely remember playing it but I guess I was sad since I'd been dumped. Doesn't really matter now.
And another song, this one from 2000. I had been arrested for pot and was attending bullshit pot addict meetings in order to score brownie points at my upcoming trial. It worked. I didn't get sent to prison but I did get to go to lot of meetings and piss in front of a lot of cops.
My probation officer told me to just have a few beers if I started having marijuana cravings.
Five years later I almost died of alcoholism.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Silver Lining
Although Mushroom Clouds (MC) are typically associated with nuclear explosions, they arise from almost any sort of surface detonation- hot ash and vapor rises straight up, then spreads out as it cools - or something more complicated, I dunno- but you do see smaller, non-Apocalyptic MCs when observing typical workaday high-ex usage.
But the MC does serve as a useful and universal symbol for total human annihilation, which is helpful since such a thing seems almost inevitable.
But so what?
Why look on the dark side? If life hands you a MushroomCloud, look for the Silver Lining, at least until your eyes evaporate in their sockets.
Keep your sunny-side up, I always say- unless I'm in New Jersey, where it is illegal to serve eggs "sunny-side up" in a restaraunt. It's also illegal to pump your own gasoline in Jersey. I don't think there's a connection save that we are destined to run out of both chickens (Avian Flu) and gasoline (Exxon/OPEC/SUV/Everything) at some not-too-distant future date. But is that so bad?
Long-time readers of this blog will have already started preparing for the Chicken Extinction and stand to reap enormous profits.
- We are all doomed. If you are religously insane, this is great news, for it means that Hay-Zeus is returning to Earth any day now and he's gonna sort us out real good. Madonna is even buying seats to this event.
- America is involved in fucked-up wars and seems intent on starting more. While it's obvious to most that we (the USA) no longer have a military capable of waging a succesful war against Iran -the Iraq invasion having reduced our once-mighty military to a group of desperately demoralized policemen in the middle of a foriegn Civil War- a position that any military-minded person will recognize as unsustainable, not to mention flat-out stupid- but our President is not like most people.
He is dimmer than a box of solar-powered flashlights stored in a bomb shelter and remains optimistic despite the truncated and unwelcome intrusion of what some might call facts.
He just told our troops "Fuck off- you ain't my problem no more" and remained sanguine while doing so. Where's all the "support our boys" Flag-waving now? The President shrugs, someone'll fix it -or not- just not him.
Hey, a sinking boat rises all waters faster than you can say "melting icecap" and if our President says it's all good, why should we question him? Besides, dissent is so pre-9/11.
-I mean, it's all about spreading democracy and freedom, right? Mission fucking Accomplished, oh yeah! Check Afghanistan - they still have the freedom to execute converts to Christianity , a right that they were in danger of losing after the Taliban were chased into Pakistan, where they continue to flourish.
The Paki government has somehow managed to connect the Taliban, Al-Queda, the Zionists and the (Indian) Hindus in a nefarious plot so patently absurd that it makes Bush's false conflation of Saddam and 9/11 seem positively rational and lucid by comparision. This provides wonderful grist for the conspiracy blogger's mill.
Thanks!
This also means that our Glorious Leader and his Blood Money Cartel can rake in some big bucks by selling military technology- including nukes- to both India and Pakistan, making that simmering conflict a great boon to shareholders in the Military-Industrial Complex. Another upshot is that our Dept. of Offense can use the profits from this arms-trading to buy newer, spiffier Nukes- bombs and power plants- for a world that just doesn't have enough. Special good news for me- some of these plants will be in my neighborhood . Yay!
Where the bombs will wind up is anyone's guess, but conservative anti-war columnist P.C. Roberts has a pretty scary scenario in mind. If you only click one link in this rant -click that one.
Oh yeah, it's all good- it's all really, really good.
The Good Old Days-Update
I miss the days when saying George W. Bush is a simple-minded and arrogant war-mongering corporate death merchant who is hell-bent on destroying America would elicit angry outcries and the odd death threat from the now (apparently) extinct Right-Wing Lunatic bloggers- especially the Freepers.
Nowadays only the most drug-addled (Rush) or borderline sociopathic (Coulter, O'Liely) pundits are managing to sound somewhat convinced as they repeat the same old tired shit.
It was more interesting when the average idiot was willing to jump up and down and tell me that I'd better thank Jesus that Al Gore didn't get credit for winning-otherwise I'd be 'speaking Iraqi' right now.
Why would I miss hearing babble from those idiots?
Because at that time there was still a chance that I was wrong.
Usually I LOVE to say "I told ya so"- but not in this case.
*sigh*
See y'all in Gitmo.
RIGHT WING LUNATIC BLOGGER UPDATE: Ben " Augustine" Domenech suddenly has some extra time on his hands. He likes defending Bush- the only problem is he either plagarizes or outright makes shit up in order to do so. Ben Domenech is an asshole and the Washington Whore Post should be ashamed of themselves for letting him further darken their doorstep.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Yuck Again!
This place is crawling with eager Law Students looking for summer internships. They are led around by one of the Senior Office Cabbages- I think they are using me as an example of what happens if you don't stay in school. I am part of the Scared Straight program.
I hate them.
Earlier this afternoon, I was in the Men's room and one of the Firm Lawyers walked out of the toilet stall and exited the room without washing his hands- this is the second time I've seen him do this. I wonder if his assistant knows this? She has to handle all his papers- yuck!
I am tempted to tell her. Maybe after I find another job...
I must admit that I get a chuckle about the thought of his fecal mitt shaking hands with all the squeaky-clean Young Republicans touring the firm.
But...it's fucking disgusting. It really is.
I hate them.
Earlier this afternoon, I was in the Men's room and one of the Firm Lawyers walked out of the toilet stall and exited the room without washing his hands- this is the second time I've seen him do this. I wonder if his assistant knows this? She has to handle all his papers- yuck!
I am tempted to tell her. Maybe after I find another job...
I must admit that I get a chuckle about the thought of his fecal mitt shaking hands with all the squeaky-clean Young Republicans touring the firm.
But...it's fucking disgusting. It really is.
Things To Avoid # 300,012 (in a series of 10)
No matter how bored you get at work DO NOT spend eight hours taking on-line psychological/stress/personality tests. You will find, not surprisingly, that no matter how you answer the questions, the result will be an advertisement for some sort of medication or self-help program. You will be informed that you are quite insane and need immediate help that only the tester can provide- how fortunate for you that they are currently running a 1/2 price sale on Ginseng-Enhanced Snake Oil Extract, Psychic Wart Removal Crystals and Regressive Tapeworm Therapy Guides! Don't buy those products.
Call me.
I will tell you that you are nuts -for free- and I won't try to sell you anything.
I was once so bored I took an on-line IQ test. I was told that my IQ was 170+ , indicating that I was some sort of Super-Brainiac Genius. Pictures of famous Smart People adorned my test results. One of those pictures was of William Shakespeare. This was telling, because Willie himself was a charlatan and a fraud, his plays being penned by Francis Bacon , who was quite a conniving , albeit brilliant son-of-a bitch. Had Bacon's picture appeared on my test results I would've been less sceptical.( Note that the link provided denies that Bacon ghost-wrote for the Bard. Liars!)
Anyway, after I was told how smart I was, I was asked for my credit card info in order for the testing company to send me more detailed information regarding my Genius.
In one sentence they informed me that I was both a Genius and an Utter Fool.
I'm no Genius, but I'm not stupid enough to pay people to tell me how smart I am, so that company was wrong on both counts.
Don't take those tests. They are scams.
What you should do is take me to lunch. It's cheaper and you'll get better advice.
Call me.
I will tell you that you are nuts -for free- and I won't try to sell you anything.
I was once so bored I took an on-line IQ test. I was told that my IQ was 170+ , indicating that I was some sort of Super-Brainiac Genius. Pictures of famous Smart People adorned my test results. One of those pictures was of William Shakespeare. This was telling, because Willie himself was a charlatan and a fraud, his plays being penned by Francis Bacon , who was quite a conniving , albeit brilliant son-of-a bitch. Had Bacon's picture appeared on my test results I would've been less sceptical.( Note that the link provided denies that Bacon ghost-wrote for the Bard. Liars!)
Anyway, after I was told how smart I was, I was asked for my credit card info in order for the testing company to send me more detailed information regarding my Genius.
In one sentence they informed me that I was both a Genius and an Utter Fool.
I'm no Genius, but I'm not stupid enough to pay people to tell me how smart I am, so that company was wrong on both counts.
Don't take those tests. They are scams.
What you should do is take me to lunch. It's cheaper and you'll get better advice.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Hide My Guitar
The only thing worse than American Heavy Metal music is Heavy Metal from anywhere else.
Rawk!
Rawk!
Penned In
I hate this fucking pen. It's improperly constructed and it's driving me crazy.
Imprinted along it's length are these words: Bic Grip Roller Micro.
So what?
So - these words are repeated on the cap of the pen as well, only they are upside-down.
No matter how many times I take the cap off and replace it, one or the other sets of words are upside-down. This is infuriating.
On the positive side (sort of) I now have a phone at my desk- after six months without one.
On the downside, I now have a phone at my desk -after six months without one.
Actually, I don't have a phone at my desk per se , as my 'desk' more closely resembles a folding card table -designed for solitaire- than an actual desk. There is no space for a telephone on it.
My new phone sits on a cardbord box on the floor to the left of my chair.
A phone for my cell.
I hope it doesn't ring.
Imprinted along it's length are these words: Bic Grip Roller Micro.
So what?
So - these words are repeated on the cap of the pen as well, only they are upside-down.
No matter how many times I take the cap off and replace it, one or the other sets of words are upside-down. This is infuriating.
On the positive side (sort of) I now have a phone at my desk- after six months without one.
On the downside, I now have a phone at my desk -after six months without one.
Actually, I don't have a phone at my desk per se , as my 'desk' more closely resembles a folding card table -designed for solitaire- than an actual desk. There is no space for a telephone on it.
My new phone sits on a cardbord box on the floor to the left of my chair.
A phone for my cell.
I hope it doesn't ring.
The Secret of my Success
The secret of my success is failure.
Sometimes it's my own failure, but more often it's the screw-ups of others that allows me to somehow keep a job without doing any actual work or even showing up on a regular basis.
I'm at work now- blogging- and collecting salary while I do so. In fact, I started blogging due to the immense boredom surfeit generated at a previous job. I'd estimate that about 50% of my average workday was and is spent blogging, surfing and corresponding with non-Company persons. It's been like this for two years and three jobs.
So I'll take my wages over the last two years, divide them by two ( 50% of my work hours) and Voila! I'm a professional writer!
Half of my yearly wage is just slightly above the U.S. poverty level- slightly above poverty is very good money indeed for a writer/artist/musician type - by this measure I'm already quite successful.
How do I get away with this?
In my current situation I couldn't do 'work' even if I felt inclined to do so. In an effort to "upgrade" security (bad word) on our computer system, our IT department has relocated our server to a classified location- a location which I shall reveal right here for all the world to see.
The fucking thing is now located on the dark side of Mercury. Our data is transmitted via a relay system of marginally functional Soviet-era spy satellites, bounced off of whatever's left of the International Space Station and converted into Morse code by a doggedly anachronistic group of widely dispersed amateur HAM radio operators. Eventually this data shows up on my monitor in the form of an hourglass that never goes away.This Upgrade was done in order to make our UNIVAC-based computer network more efficient . I believe it cost upwards of 11 trillion dollars to do this.
My proposal was better- why don't we just buy computers that don't have 'Y2K Compliant' labels on them- if it's got a Y2K sticker, it was probably manufactured before the year 2000. Computer technology has advanced somewhat since then, or so I am told. My proposal, as is usual these days , was ignored.
Instead of improving my computer, IT restricted my access so that I can no longer pull up the system specs and ask my boss how it's possible to even run Windows with 64mb of RAM and a 128k processor. It can't run Excel without crashing Word.
That's cool with me -as long as I can surf and blog, I'll be OK- but it's somewhat counter-productive for the Company. Like I said, their failure= my success.
At the beginning of this year the Company 'accidentally' cancelled my health insurance - an "administrative error" that took over 90 days to correct. During this period, I refused to do any but the most crucial of tasks , lest I hurt myself and require medical attention. I thought this declaration would get me fired but it didn't- I did get a personal visit from our Regional Manager who insisted that the Company was trying to fix it and wasn't trying to rip me off. We shook on it.
His handshake was as good as his word. Unfortunately, it was as if I were shaking hands with a blob of over-cooked spinach; limp, moist and unpleasantly slimy-much like his words.
But last week it all got sorted out, so I decided to resume my duties.
Just in time for the Upgrade to Mercury.
The sad thing is, I'm actually a very good employee if allowed to work. I'd like a challenging job that keeps me busy all day. I thrive on that. I have to have it.Two hours a week of studio time does not fill my needs. I want more and I want it NOW.
I am easily bored. Left alone with nothing to do, I will invariably cause trouble. I will think to myself, "this is a very unwise thing to do", but I will do it anyway.
"So far, so good", I lie to myself.
When I was drinking I used to come to work drunk. A lot. No one seemed to care as long as I didn't fuck up in a noticeable fashion- as I said, I am actually quite competent in all manners of things- I just suck at being bored.
But I don't drink any longer so my only soporific is the Internet.
And coffee.
Another cuppa should calm me down, or at least make me pee.
My new work project is to eventually urinate in every lavoratory in this building. So far I've covered about half the Men's Rooms. (Well, not covered) but I'll need to pull some after-hours Overtime in order to use the Women's Rooms.
I can't wait to submit that Overtime proposal. The Company didn't heed my word when I said we need new computers, but I bet they'll be willing to pay me overtime so that I may piss all over, so to speak.
I wish that I were only making this up.
Sometimes it's my own failure, but more often it's the screw-ups of others that allows me to somehow keep a job without doing any actual work or even showing up on a regular basis.
I'm at work now- blogging- and collecting salary while I do so. In fact, I started blogging due to the immense boredom surfeit generated at a previous job. I'd estimate that about 50% of my average workday was and is spent blogging, surfing and corresponding with non-Company persons. It's been like this for two years and three jobs.
So I'll take my wages over the last two years, divide them by two ( 50% of my work hours) and Voila! I'm a professional writer!
Half of my yearly wage is just slightly above the U.S. poverty level- slightly above poverty is very good money indeed for a writer/artist/musician type - by this measure I'm already quite successful.
How do I get away with this?
In my current situation I couldn't do 'work' even if I felt inclined to do so. In an effort to "upgrade" security (bad word) on our computer system, our IT department has relocated our server to a classified location- a location which I shall reveal right here for all the world to see.
The fucking thing is now located on the dark side of Mercury. Our data is transmitted via a relay system of marginally functional Soviet-era spy satellites, bounced off of whatever's left of the International Space Station and converted into Morse code by a doggedly anachronistic group of widely dispersed amateur HAM radio operators. Eventually this data shows up on my monitor in the form of an hourglass that never goes away.This Upgrade was done in order to make our UNIVAC-based computer network more efficient . I believe it cost upwards of 11 trillion dollars to do this.
My proposal was better- why don't we just buy computers that don't have 'Y2K Compliant' labels on them- if it's got a Y2K sticker, it was probably manufactured before the year 2000. Computer technology has advanced somewhat since then, or so I am told. My proposal, as is usual these days , was ignored.
Instead of improving my computer, IT restricted my access so that I can no longer pull up the system specs and ask my boss how it's possible to even run Windows with 64mb of RAM and a 128k processor. It can't run Excel without crashing Word.
That's cool with me -as long as I can surf and blog, I'll be OK- but it's somewhat counter-productive for the Company. Like I said, their failure= my success.
At the beginning of this year the Company 'accidentally' cancelled my health insurance - an "administrative error" that took over 90 days to correct. During this period, I refused to do any but the most crucial of tasks , lest I hurt myself and require medical attention. I thought this declaration would get me fired but it didn't- I did get a personal visit from our Regional Manager who insisted that the Company was trying to fix it and wasn't trying to rip me off. We shook on it.
His handshake was as good as his word. Unfortunately, it was as if I were shaking hands with a blob of over-cooked spinach; limp, moist and unpleasantly slimy-much like his words.
But last week it all got sorted out, so I decided to resume my duties.
Just in time for the Upgrade to Mercury.
The sad thing is, I'm actually a very good employee if allowed to work. I'd like a challenging job that keeps me busy all day. I thrive on that. I have to have it.Two hours a week of studio time does not fill my needs. I want more and I want it NOW.
I am easily bored. Left alone with nothing to do, I will invariably cause trouble. I will think to myself, "this is a very unwise thing to do", but I will do it anyway.
"So far, so good", I lie to myself.
When I was drinking I used to come to work drunk. A lot. No one seemed to care as long as I didn't fuck up in a noticeable fashion- as I said, I am actually quite competent in all manners of things- I just suck at being bored.
But I don't drink any longer so my only soporific is the Internet.
And coffee.
Another cuppa should calm me down, or at least make me pee.
My new work project is to eventually urinate in every lavoratory in this building. So far I've covered about half the Men's Rooms. (Well, not covered) but I'll need to pull some after-hours Overtime in order to use the Women's Rooms.
I can't wait to submit that Overtime proposal. The Company didn't heed my word when I said we need new computers, but I bet they'll be willing to pay me overtime so that I may piss all over, so to speak.
I wish that I were only making this up.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Rules
My new Swedish pal is right. Those Google ads are annoying as shit. But Sweden enjoys a better per-capita standard of living than the USA , so I need that extra $1.08 a week. That doesn't stop me from hating the ads though.
I mean, check out the rules I'm to follow for the privilege of earning that $1.08:
THE RULES
Site may not include:
Excessive profanity
I'm fucked by the very first rule.
Violence, racial intolerance, or advocate against any individual, group, or organization
But I usually change their names!
Hacking/cracking content
I guess this includes hacking up bong-flavored lung-raisins and cracking wise about it.
Illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia
See above, goddamn it all to flaming pits of happy fucking Hellfire! (also see above).
Pornography, adult, or mature content
There's absolutely nothing mature about this site.
Gambling or casino-related content
Did I mention that I won a lot of money betting on football this year? Send me some PayPal love and I'll tell you how YOU TOO can make big illegal money! Ooops.
Any other content that promotes illegal activity or infringes on the legal rights of others
Better yet, just drop by for a visit. We'll get really high and talk about your new gambling career. I promise not to chain you to the radiator.
Excessive advertising
Without excess, there would be no consumerism. Without consumerism , there'd be no advertising. You know, for a bunch of brainy computer types, you guys sure have some dumbass rules.
Pop-ups, pop-unders or exit windows that interfere with site navigation, obscure Google ads, change user preferences, or are for downloads. Other types of pop-ups, pop-unders, or exit windows may be allowed, provided that they do not exceed a combined total of 5 per user session
I can't tell a pop-up from a Pop-Tart. However, that Trojan Dialer you just unwittingly downloaded could really fuck up your phone bill.
Excessive, repetitive, or irrelevant keywords in the content or code of web pages
Fuck you and your excessive fucking use of the fucking word 'excessive'. Turnips.
Deceptive or manipulative content or construction to improve your site's search engine ranking, e.g., your site's PageRank
Every time you visit this site, I will send you a dollar.
Incentives (monetary or point-based) to users to click on links or ads while visiting a site containing Ads
Did I say 'dollar'? I meant to say 'nothing'.
Sales or promotion of certain weapons, such as firearms, ammunition, balisongs, butterfly knives, and brass knuckles
I'm impressed that you realize there's a difference between balisongs and butterfly knives. I won't promote them, however, as my experience shows that the jagged edge of a broken liquor bottle is just as, if not more effective in close-quarters melee.
Sales or promotion of beer or hard alcohol
What? I quit drinking so the rest of you could have more beer and tequila, and this is the thanks I get? I encourage you to drink wine instead. Get the really cheap shit, check the alcohol/volume percentage (12-20% is best)-the point is to get loaded, not to be sophisticated. Junior readers take note: for a fee, I'll send you the address of the nearest bar that serves minors.
Sales or promotion of tobacco or tobacco-related products
Does this include the Iron Lung I'm selling on eBay?
Sales or promotion of prescription drugs
That reminds me-I need to get my Xanax refilled. My panic attacks have gotten too intense lately. Got Panic? Get Xanax!
What Happens When You Fuck Up?
You can fuck up by posting and reposting stuff like this .
Well, you may be temporarily banned from posting. Or be required to use a 'secret word'-like in comments- just to post on your own site.
If you are really pissed and complain you'll get an email like this:
"... please be aware that we currently do not run paid Google ads on
web pages that are determined to contain potentially sensitive, negative,
or non-family safe content by our automatic contextual advertising system.
This can also include content that is potentially mature or adult in
nature...
Because our system automatically classifies web pages based on the type of
content, you may sometimes see that the ads appearing on your pages are
PSAs. However, as your page content changes, we may be able to display
more targeted ads. Thank you for your understanding."
You know, after 39 years and assorted legal troubles, you'd think I'd grow up a little and learn to have a little respect for rules and authority.
Hmmm...
I think I'll switch to porno ads instead.
I mean, check out the rules I'm to follow for the privilege of earning that $1.08:
THE RULES
Site may not include:
Excessive profanity
I'm fucked by the very first rule.
Violence, racial intolerance, or advocate against any individual, group, or organization
But I usually change their names!
Hacking/cracking content
I guess this includes hacking up bong-flavored lung-raisins and cracking wise about it.
Illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia
See above, goddamn it all to flaming pits of happy fucking Hellfire! (also see above).
Pornography, adult, or mature content
There's absolutely nothing mature about this site.
Gambling or casino-related content
Did I mention that I won a lot of money betting on football this year? Send me some PayPal love and I'll tell you how YOU TOO can make big illegal money! Ooops.
Any other content that promotes illegal activity or infringes on the legal rights of others
Better yet, just drop by for a visit. We'll get really high and talk about your new gambling career. I promise not to chain you to the radiator.
Excessive advertising
Without excess, there would be no consumerism. Without consumerism , there'd be no advertising. You know, for a bunch of brainy computer types, you guys sure have some dumbass rules.
Pop-ups, pop-unders or exit windows that interfere with site navigation, obscure Google ads, change user preferences, or are for downloads. Other types of pop-ups, pop-unders, or exit windows may be allowed, provided that they do not exceed a combined total of 5 per user session
I can't tell a pop-up from a Pop-Tart. However, that Trojan Dialer you just unwittingly downloaded could really fuck up your phone bill.
Excessive, repetitive, or irrelevant keywords in the content or code of web pages
Fuck you and your excessive fucking use of the fucking word 'excessive'. Turnips.
Deceptive or manipulative content or construction to improve your site's search engine ranking, e.g., your site's PageRank
Every time you visit this site, I will send you a dollar.
Incentives (monetary or point-based) to users to click on links or ads while visiting a site containing Ads
Did I say 'dollar'? I meant to say 'nothing'.
Sales or promotion of certain weapons, such as firearms, ammunition, balisongs, butterfly knives, and brass knuckles
I'm impressed that you realize there's a difference between balisongs and butterfly knives. I won't promote them, however, as my experience shows that the jagged edge of a broken liquor bottle is just as, if not more effective in close-quarters melee.
Sales or promotion of beer or hard alcohol
What? I quit drinking so the rest of you could have more beer and tequila, and this is the thanks I get? I encourage you to drink wine instead. Get the really cheap shit, check the alcohol/volume percentage (12-20% is best)-the point is to get loaded, not to be sophisticated. Junior readers take note: for a fee, I'll send you the address of the nearest bar that serves minors.
Sales or promotion of tobacco or tobacco-related products
Does this include the Iron Lung I'm selling on eBay?
Sales or promotion of prescription drugs
That reminds me-I need to get my Xanax refilled. My panic attacks have gotten too intense lately. Got Panic? Get Xanax!
What Happens When You Fuck Up?
You can fuck up by posting and reposting stuff like this .
Well, you may be temporarily banned from posting. Or be required to use a 'secret word'-like in comments- just to post on your own site.
If you are really pissed and complain you'll get an email like this:
"... please be aware that we currently do not run paid Google ads on
web pages that are determined to contain potentially sensitive, negative,
or non-family safe content by our automatic contextual advertising system.
This can also include content that is potentially mature or adult in
nature...
Because our system automatically classifies web pages based on the type of
content, you may sometimes see that the ads appearing on your pages are
PSAs. However, as your page content changes, we may be able to display
more targeted ads. Thank you for your understanding."
You know, after 39 years and assorted legal troubles, you'd think I'd grow up a little and learn to have a little respect for rules and authority.
Hmmm...
I think I'll switch to porno ads instead.
Torn
I am torn between two worlds- one world is encompassed by four unadorned pale yellow walls, the fluorescent lights only serving to accentuate the vaguely nauseating weakness of the pasty color, reminding me just how institutional that this particular shade is- it's the same yellow as found in the rooms where the professionally sincere ask you to share your feelings, even though you know that sharing those feelings will not help your cause one iota.
No wonder they put me in this box to do Data Entry. This leeched-yellow, silent and windowless cell is perfect for Data Entry.
I am wholly unsuited for Data Entry. I hate yellow walls and I like windows. (Small 'w' windows)
So there's this other world- it contains everything that's not in this damnable yellow box. That's a lot of stuff- it's almost unbearable to think that all that stuff- good and bad -is going on - it's out there and it'll happen with or without me.
But here's the kicker- I can make that stuff better. I've done it before- I actually do it every single freaking day- but sometimes it's hard to keep track of oneself- those breadcrumbs trailing back to where we came from are gobbled by invisible ravens, leaving us little choice but to press on, looking forward- is that a familar landmark ahead or is it El Dorado, the fabled city of gold?
It's difficult to tell.
It is for me, anyway. I hope that it may be easier for you but realistically, it's probably about the same.
Lacking eyes in the back of my skull, I shall instead walk forward and find out what lies ahead. It could be an Oasis, a hidden Paradise or a mere mirage... but I won't know until I get there.
When I find out, you shall be the first one to know. I shall be the second.
No wonder they put me in this box to do Data Entry. This leeched-yellow, silent and windowless cell is perfect for Data Entry.
I am wholly unsuited for Data Entry. I hate yellow walls and I like windows. (Small 'w' windows)
So there's this other world- it contains everything that's not in this damnable yellow box. That's a lot of stuff- it's almost unbearable to think that all that stuff- good and bad -is going on - it's out there and it'll happen with or without me.
But here's the kicker- I can make that stuff better. I've done it before- I actually do it every single freaking day- but sometimes it's hard to keep track of oneself- those breadcrumbs trailing back to where we came from are gobbled by invisible ravens, leaving us little choice but to press on, looking forward- is that a familar landmark ahead or is it El Dorado, the fabled city of gold?
It's difficult to tell.
It is for me, anyway. I hope that it may be easier for you but realistically, it's probably about the same.
Lacking eyes in the back of my skull, I shall instead walk forward and find out what lies ahead. It could be an Oasis, a hidden Paradise or a mere mirage... but I won't know until I get there.
When I find out, you shall be the first one to know. I shall be the second.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Happy Anniversary
WEDDING GIFTS-TRADITIONAL AND MODERN:
PAPER: This marriage started with a blitz of fabricated propaganda, wholly supported by the so-called Liberal Media, a media which seemed hell-bent on seeing the war to it's bloody start without so much as questioning the clearly absurd notion of attacks by Iraqi Killer Drone Planes, Mobile Weapons Labs and such other rubbish.
"We know where they are." "Yellow Cake" "Get 'em there before they come here"
Lies, all of it.
For Paper, I give you our National Forests so that you may print pamphlets for distribution to the Iraqi people , reminding them of all the great things we've done for them lately.
CLOCKS: For a time-piece I give you a horizontal hourglass, a chronograph that resolutely "stays the course" and refuses to change, despite the Earth's continued rotation and the obvious change in both time and season.
COTTON: This cotton uniform of desert camouflage will serve as a symbol of the Kevlar that is as strong as our love. A symbol must suffice, as the actual Kevlar is somewhat scarce. But it's coming- we are making progress , my love, but it is hard work. I will repeat this long after you stop believing it.
CHINA: Dear Heart, please remind me to send a most sincere note of thanks to our delightful friends in China for loaning us the money to finance our continued marital bliss.
LEATHER: Tut, tut, my naughty little darling! How devilish you are! Yes, these whips and bonds will become a strictly-applied disciplinary 'lesson' to those who despise the freedom of our matrimony. Let them forever hold their peace- or else.
CRYSTAL, GLASS: I am sure that in your heart you will see the wisdom of my words when I tell you that you are an exquisite creature, full of sand and wracked by frequent explosions, so the gift of delicate glassware may be a bit impractical. Please know that I do not love you any the less for this omission; in fact I offer a life-time supply of depleted uranium.
It will make a lovely heirloom for generations to come.
| 1st | Paper | Clocks |
| 2nd | Cotton | China |
| 3rd | Leather | Crystal, Glass |
PAPER: This marriage started with a blitz of fabricated propaganda, wholly supported by the so-called Liberal Media, a media which seemed hell-bent on seeing the war to it's bloody start without so much as questioning the clearly absurd notion of attacks by Iraqi Killer Drone Planes, Mobile Weapons Labs and such other rubbish.
"We know where they are." "Yellow Cake" "Get 'em there before they come here"
Lies, all of it.
For Paper, I give you our National Forests so that you may print pamphlets for distribution to the Iraqi people , reminding them of all the great things we've done for them lately.
CLOCKS: For a time-piece I give you a horizontal hourglass, a chronograph that resolutely "stays the course" and refuses to change, despite the Earth's continued rotation and the obvious change in both time and season.
COTTON: This cotton uniform of desert camouflage will serve as a symbol of the Kevlar that is as strong as our love. A symbol must suffice, as the actual Kevlar is somewhat scarce. But it's coming- we are making progress , my love, but it is hard work. I will repeat this long after you stop believing it.
CHINA: Dear Heart, please remind me to send a most sincere note of thanks to our delightful friends in China for loaning us the money to finance our continued marital bliss.
LEATHER: Tut, tut, my naughty little darling! How devilish you are! Yes, these whips and bonds will become a strictly-applied disciplinary 'lesson' to those who despise the freedom of our matrimony. Let them forever hold their peace- or else.
CRYSTAL, GLASS: I am sure that in your heart you will see the wisdom of my words when I tell you that you are an exquisite creature, full of sand and wracked by frequent explosions, so the gift of delicate glassware may be a bit impractical. Please know that I do not love you any the less for this omission; in fact I offer a life-time supply of depleted uranium.
It will make a lovely heirloom for generations to come.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Don't Read This Stuff
From today's NYT -regarding the "Pandemic of Chick-lit". Until today, I thought 'Chick-lit' was a brand name for a square piece of stale gum, but it's really some sort of global cultural socio-literary phenomena. As a man, I can't help but envision such a genre as anything but a sort of exploitative, materialistic update on the old Harlequin romance bodice-ripper. It seems that my admittedly stereotype-driven guess is accurate in some cases, but not so much in others- check out what the girls in India are reading:
"Another popular chick lit title is Rupa Gulab's "Girl Alone," about "a pseudo-intellectual (named Arti) who deals with her disappointments in love with cough syrup, rock music and existential literature" ...
This sounds like my kinda woman! Although from the description given it's hard to determine if she's disappointed in love with cough syrup , rock music and existential lit, or if she merely uses these things to ease the pain of disappointment with more traditional love objects.
Take it from someone who has tried- DO NOT attempt to fall in love with cough syrup , rock music or existential literature- your love will be unrequited. It might seem great for awhile, but one day you will wake up alone in a dusty Texas backyard wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast. You will have no one to blame but yourself and the world will not care.
"Meanwhile, Scandinavian chick lit seems marked by a certain existential angst."
If you've ever staggered out of a Bergman film festival you will find this observation unsurprising.
It could be worse. Existential angst would be almost cheerful compared to what the young Japanese woman is reading:
"...darker literary fiction that deals with the "isolation and the meaninglessness of modern urban life; boredom and frustration with men and relationships and marriage, and the constraints put on women in Japanese society..."
Some sort of Nipponese neo-nihilism perhaps? I know that I have filing cabinets larger than some Tokyo apartments- I wonder if the isolation felt by the Japanese reader is an ironic by-product of the intense overcrowding? Pretty sure it is.
What's the savvy Polish bubushka reading these days?
"In Poland, chick lit often features tragic elements, like kidnapping or the specter of suicide."
Of a Polish Chick-lit best-seller: "The book has a subplot involving rape and murder"
Holy Dachau boxcars! That doesn't sound fun at all. That cough syrup romance is looking better all the time.
No wonder anti-depressants are so over-prescribed these days- look what women are reading.
So cheer up and read this blog instead. Unlike cough syrup, rock music and existentialists, it will love you back.
Friday, March 17, 2006
500!
(Interesting coincidence coming up) I was just discussing the idea that I could take about 100 blog posts and edit them into a semi-coherent narrative and call it a book.. So I started to blog about this and guess what?
Total writer's block. The thought of actually trying to be a writer must've caused it because I can rarely shut up when it comes to writing. (If you've ever received an email from me, you know this is true)
Anyway, I just noticed that this is post #500 on this blog ;a bit of trivia which has uncorked my writing hole. That's a lot of posts. Thanks to everyone who's ever read any of it-even if you hated it. In fact, I kinda miss hate mail- I haven't got any since Casual Republicans started getting hip to the fact that their boy is fucking up.
If you feel like sending that sort of thing please make sure you DO SO USING ALL CAPS IN YOUR MISSIVE, otherwise I may not catch on to the fact that you are angry.
I'm somewhat amazed that I've been blogging so long- before blog I mostly wrote songs and kept a very spotty journal. It's been very interesting- I think I missed the entire point of blog from the beginning, it never occured to me to pick one subject and stick to it. It was, and still is, an almost random mix with a few recurring themes. By the time I figured out I wasn't blogging 'properly', it was too late.
It's a lot like my life.
But my life is becoming more coherent all the time and it follows that my creative work benefit from this. No illusion of Big Famous Me, but it would be nice to at least give it a shot. I know 500 is no huge amount but I like to look at it as a milestone and an incentive to push harder.
Slow, steady and dedicated.
And focused. Stay focused. That's the hard part. I have a million ideas all the time. Just because they aren't good ideas doesn't mean they aren't ideas and they still clutter up my thoughts just as much as my good ideas. Maybe more so.
There's a lot to do.
So I have broken my writer's block.
I shall now reward myself with video games and forget about my little productivity soapbox for a while.
Bad Decisions
I'm still sick today, so I'll catch up on the news for a bit to take my mind off my fever... oh. Well, nevermind.Over a decade ago when I was living in Austin,TX, I had a chance to be human guinea pig for an experimental new heart/blood pressure (i forget) drug. The pay was really high - approx. $1600 a week, plus room and board. Pretty easy,huh?
At the time, I was pretty open to chemical experiments, but the prospect of being a lab rat disturbed me. I got a day job instead. I hadn't really thought about it until it came up in a recent conversation- so when I read this article , and this, I felt like I made the right decision. The articles seem to be quite understated after you see the pics.
If you want to see what the victims look like, some pics are here (thanks to MopJ). Be warned -they are hard to look at. I'm not especially squeamish, but the obvious human suffering is nearly unbearable to view- but you should, because this is what Big Pharmaceutical has planned for us.
Even a shitty job is better than multiple organ failure and coma.
-------
I recently wrote about locomotive-assisted suicide. I didn't mean to encourage anyone to act on it, but I can't help but wonder if this wasn't deliberate- the woman was plenty smart enough to know what could happen- what made her do this? I wonder if anyone will ever know?
-------
If you are a disgraced political whore named Katherine Harris, trying to sleaze your way into a congressional seat in the patriarchal misogynist GOP , getting a boob job and holding some thrusty photo-ops in order to get the Family Values vote is probably not a BAD decision, it's just kinda tawdry. After her failed 2006 bid, she could make a decent living on one of those MILF web sites.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Deaf
From Susanne :
I found this to be a very interesting clip, from a fellow secular humanist. Watching this interchange I believe is an example of how I often feel when discussing a topic with certain theists.
This video clip amazed me on so many levels, but here's a few that really struck me.
First, it was aired on Al Jazeera. Can you imagine any of our mainstream media allowing such controversy and debate, especially centered around religious ideology, to get airtime?
Second, this Arab-American woman is debating this topic in a male-dominated culture with a revered cleric.
What do you think of her views? Also, there has been some talk of fear for this woman's safety. Is that justified or prejudice talking?
Allan adds : I think the fears for Dr. Sultan's safety are wholly justified, she's condemning a culture of violence that has a history of killing dissidents- and has no place for an outspoken woman - a woman outspoken on any subject at all is in constant peril in any fundamentalist society.
Some points:
a) Much of what she said would be just as true if the word 'Christian' were used instead of 'Muslim'
b) When Susanne says this reminds her of certain discussions, I can relate- at around 3m45s
into the clip, Dr. Sultan's "debate" opponent dismisses all of her highly cogent and understandably outraged arguments by labelling her as a 'heretic'- in other words , if you don't believe in the same Invisible Cloud Being as I do, it follows that everything else you believe is false.
You'd have to be insane to consider that statement to be logical, but it's a very common view.
c) Early in, Dr. Sultan debukes the phrase "Clash of Civilizations", stating that civilzations do not clash - they compete. It's the difference between civility and barbarity. Well put.
Thanks to Susanne for the finding and providing this intriguing clip.
Allan adds : I think the fears for Dr. Sultan's safety are wholly justified, she's condemning a culture of violence that has a history of killing dissidents- and has no place for an outspoken woman - a woman outspoken on any subject at all is in constant peril in any fundamentalist society.
Some points:
a) Much of what she said would be just as true if the word 'Christian' were used instead of 'Muslim'
b) When Susanne says this reminds her of certain discussions, I can relate- at around 3m45s
into the clip, Dr. Sultan's "debate" opponent dismisses all of her highly cogent and understandably outraged arguments by labelling her as a 'heretic'- in other words , if you don't believe in the same Invisible Cloud Being as I do, it follows that everything else you believe is false.
You'd have to be insane to consider that statement to be logical, but it's a very common view.
c) Early in, Dr. Sultan debukes the phrase "Clash of Civilizations", stating that civilzations do not clash - they compete. It's the difference between civility and barbarity. Well put.
Thanks to Susanne for the finding and providing this intriguing clip.
Dumb
Michael Douglas - Black Pot & Kettle
Ok, in this article from CNN showcasing an upcoming story in GQ, Michael Douglas is boo-hissing on Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett, and Renee Zellwegger with Kenny Chesney. Read the article and you will see him talking about their marriages and relationships. HA! What pissed me off about him making these comments is three-fold. He's acting like he's this man who stays married, etc. I confess, I read People magazine and E!Online. There are three things that stayed in my mind about Mr. Douglas from years past. First, yes, he was married to his first wife for many years, but it was apparently really really well known that he screwed anything that moved and his wife tolerated it. So much for a long happy marriage and him being dedicated to those vows. Second, he met CZJ because he had it "set up" - while he was still technically married. Uh huh. Lastly, their prenup requires him to pay her quite a chunk of change "if he strays". Yeah, let's not be throwing stones at other peoples' hookups is what I say. End rant!
- Susanne
- SusanneAllan says: By Dumb, I do not mean the author! I mean the subjects- they are all famous people - famous for what I'm not sure , as I barely know who most of them are. I don't pay much attention to this sort of thing, but this seems to be an especially stupid stance on the part of Mr. Douglas. -I liked Douglas in Falling Down, but he is clearly a prick of the first magnitude.
On the women mentioned-I really don't want to know how fucked-up the "beautiful people" are- it takes the fun out of looking at pictures of them.
Oh, and thanks for the excuse to run a cheesecake photo!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Blind
I'm busily daydreaming , pretending that I'm watching the paint peel in the supply room when a crackity-thackity sound disrupts my thoughts. What's this?
Lucy, a cute girl who pushes papers at some other damncube in this maze, is slamming the copier lid, over and over again. Hard.
On her own head.
She seems to be Xeroxing her face, but the machine has no paper- it's just flashing lights and emptiness. Nothing is produced but sound.
K-thack! K-thack! She whimpers almost inaudibly between each blow.
K-thack ! oohhh... K-thack! This is hard to be around.
I grab her shoulders from behind and turn her towards me.Her pretty face is a swollen bleary mess. It's a good thing she's not into heavy make-up, because those tears would have made even the firmest foundation run faster than a herd of wired gazelles from a pack of rabid lions.
What is wrong?
"I can't stand looking at it anymore," she wails, looking at nothing- " it's just too horrible!"
Oh shit. It dawns on me that she has been staring directly into the blinding copier flash. I hope she hasn't permanently damaged her sight, although I'm suddenly sure that such was her intent.
She struggles to pull away, determined to return to her copier flaggelation- she twists down, then out of my arms.
K-thack! ooohhh...
I turn the power switch off. I pull the plug from the wall and place my foot on the cord.
Enough!
Lucy stops hitting herself and stands still, her face pressed into the now-dark glass panel.
I want to hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything is OK, but she's in a place where such statements are utter bullshit. Right now things are not OK for her and I'm not even going to try to lie to her about it.
After a few shuddering breaths, she stands up, blinks. A plastic chunk of the Xerox lid breaks off and falls on the floor. The rest of the lid hangs on one hinge.
"Oh, hey. I didn't see you here- all I can see are spots," she says , somehow managing to smile.
"Well, no shit", I reply, "you really shouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"For starters, you've completely trashed the copier. Also, you may go blind."
"If you'd seen what I've seen, you'd wanna be blind too!"
Uh oh. I thought she was snapping out of it, but she's this close to losing it.
"Look! Dammit," I bark at her while reaching into my shirt pocket, "use these."
I press something into her hand. It's a pair of small black leather squares connected by a few rawhide strands.
"Do you know what those are?"
She dangles the squares from one hand and blinks, still spotty from her copier combat.
"A really, really small bikini top?" , she ventures, smiling. She manages to have a sense of humour at this moment- that's a good sign.
"No, those are blinders, like you'd use to keep a horse from spooking. I used to wear them all the time, but I didn't know I still had them with me. You can have them. "
"So you've seen it too?"
"Yes." I'm not exactly sure what she's seen but I know that my answer is true.
Lucy's sight must be returning. She looks me in the eye - at first I think she's angry with me, but she's not- not with me anyway.
"You know, fuck this," she says, tossing the blinders into a trash can marked 'Paper Only.'
I don't need these."
Yes, her sight is returning and it's bringing her vision back with it.
"You OK now?"
"Close enough."
She slips her arm into mine and we exit the supply room. Behind us there's a faint snapping sound followed by a crash as the copier lid breaks away and clatters to the cold floor.
We don't bother looking back.
Lucy, a cute girl who pushes papers at some other damncube in this maze, is slamming the copier lid, over and over again. Hard.
On her own head.
She seems to be Xeroxing her face, but the machine has no paper- it's just flashing lights and emptiness. Nothing is produced but sound.
K-thack! K-thack! She whimpers almost inaudibly between each blow.
K-thack ! oohhh... K-thack! This is hard to be around.
I grab her shoulders from behind and turn her towards me.Her pretty face is a swollen bleary mess. It's a good thing she's not into heavy make-up, because those tears would have made even the firmest foundation run faster than a herd of wired gazelles from a pack of rabid lions.
What is wrong?
"I can't stand looking at it anymore," she wails, looking at nothing- " it's just too horrible!"
Oh shit. It dawns on me that she has been staring directly into the blinding copier flash. I hope she hasn't permanently damaged her sight, although I'm suddenly sure that such was her intent.
She struggles to pull away, determined to return to her copier flaggelation- she twists down, then out of my arms.
K-thack! ooohhh...
I turn the power switch off. I pull the plug from the wall and place my foot on the cord.
Enough!
Lucy stops hitting herself and stands still, her face pressed into the now-dark glass panel.
I want to hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything is OK, but she's in a place where such statements are utter bullshit. Right now things are not OK for her and I'm not even going to try to lie to her about it.
After a few shuddering breaths, she stands up, blinks. A plastic chunk of the Xerox lid breaks off and falls on the floor. The rest of the lid hangs on one hinge.
"Oh, hey. I didn't see you here- all I can see are spots," she says , somehow managing to smile.
"Well, no shit", I reply, "you really shouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"For starters, you've completely trashed the copier. Also, you may go blind."
"If you'd seen what I've seen, you'd wanna be blind too!"
Uh oh. I thought she was snapping out of it, but she's this close to losing it.
"Look! Dammit," I bark at her while reaching into my shirt pocket, "use these."
I press something into her hand. It's a pair of small black leather squares connected by a few rawhide strands.
"Do you know what those are?"
She dangles the squares from one hand and blinks, still spotty from her copier combat.
"A really, really small bikini top?" , she ventures, smiling. She manages to have a sense of humour at this moment- that's a good sign.
"No, those are blinders, like you'd use to keep a horse from spooking. I used to wear them all the time, but I didn't know I still had them with me. You can have them. "
"So you've seen it too?"
"Yes." I'm not exactly sure what she's seen but I know that my answer is true.
Lucy's sight must be returning. She looks me in the eye - at first I think she's angry with me, but she's not- not with me anyway.
"You know, fuck this," she says, tossing the blinders into a trash can marked 'Paper Only.'
I don't need these."
Yes, her sight is returning and it's bringing her vision back with it.
"You OK now?"
"Close enough."
She slips her arm into mine and we exit the supply room. Behind us there's a faint snapping sound followed by a crash as the copier lid breaks away and clatters to the cold floor.
We don't bother looking back.
Bast from the Plast
NOTE: This is from May 22, 2004. It is the second blog post I ever wrote, haiku not withstanding. I found it while looking for something else. I put it here tonight because it helps remind me that I am a much happier man today than I was two years ago. And because I'm caffeinated as hell and cannot sleep. No one expects me to be on time at work anyway. And yes, I know Bast is an Egyptian cat-god, but I liked the typo so much that I left it. So there.
Squinting into the Abyss
May 22, 2004
Ever have the feeling that somewhere something is going horribly wrong and it is gonna change your life in an unforeseen, but inevitably negative sense?
Do you ever not have that feeling?
How much horror and hatred do we need in our lives anyway? Apparently we've not yet satiated our appetite for despair.
More torture. More death. More de-humanizing destruction. Everywhere.All the time.
Is this progress? History repeats itself- but this time it's streaming at us on broadband.
Here in America we've been warned to watch out for potential suicide bombers.People carrying almanacs or maps.Suspicious behavior. I see suspicious behavior every day, and it's not the guy in the alley hitting his crack stem.
We know what he's about.He's not plotting to draft my younger friends and relatives, of this I'm sure. He might steal my car stereo, but he's not gonna touch my Social Security.
I don't know about you, but by the time I notice the guy next to me is wearing a belt of grenades under his London Fog it's already too fucking late.
How the hell are we supposed to be happy, experience love and feel a sense of wonder at the beauty of it all when we're kept in a constant state of fear and anxiety about everything?
Well, there's always the Internet.
The Net allows me to realize just how isolated and disconnected we've become -while still allowing me to obsess over anything we're capable of fucking up-which is everything.
What fun!
---------
2006: What a depressing guy. He's doing better now.
Sadly, the world continues to be for shit.
Squinting into the Abyss
May 22, 2004
Ever have the feeling that somewhere something is going horribly wrong and it is gonna change your life in an unforeseen, but inevitably negative sense?
Do you ever not have that feeling?
How much horror and hatred do we need in our lives anyway? Apparently we've not yet satiated our appetite for despair.
More torture. More death. More de-humanizing destruction. Everywhere.All the time.
Is this progress? History repeats itself- but this time it's streaming at us on broadband.
Here in America we've been warned to watch out for potential suicide bombers.People carrying almanacs or maps.Suspicious behavior. I see suspicious behavior every day, and it's not the guy in the alley hitting his crack stem.
We know what he's about.He's not plotting to draft my younger friends and relatives, of this I'm sure. He might steal my car stereo, but he's not gonna touch my Social Security.
I don't know about you, but by the time I notice the guy next to me is wearing a belt of grenades under his London Fog it's already too fucking late.
How the hell are we supposed to be happy, experience love and feel a sense of wonder at the beauty of it all when we're kept in a constant state of fear and anxiety about everything?
Well, there's always the Internet.
The Net allows me to realize just how isolated and disconnected we've become -while still allowing me to obsess over anything we're capable of fucking up-which is everything.
What fun!
---------
2006: What a depressing guy. He's doing better now.
Sadly, the world continues to be for shit.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
What Book Is This?
Ever read the book that this is from? Forgive me if I misquoted it- this should be pretty close:
"We are the centuries
We are the chin-choppers and the golly-woppers
and soon we shall discuss the amputation of your head
We are your singing garbagemen, Sir and Madam
and we march in cadence behind you, chanting
rhymes that some find odd
We have your eoliths
and your mesoliths and your neoliths
we have your
Babylons and your Pompeiis
your Caesers and
your chromium-plated
vital-ingredient -impregnated artifacts
We bury your dead, we bury your reputations and we bury you
We are the centuries"
I seem to have made a habit of reading this book every ten years- not so much by choice, but more because it just seems to be around whenever I really need a book and can't seem to find a new one.
I think it finds me . I always find something new in it.
Published in 1959 (remaining in print to this day), I first read it during the tail-end of the Cold War, again during the relative peace and prosperity of the 90's and once more just a few weeks ago. It scared and entralled me the first time, amused and inspired me the second time and returned to terrorize me again during it's latest visit.
Not that it scares me in the same way that a hungry alligator or a mustard gas attack does- it just reminds me that all things, even what seem to Chaos and Entropy , are cyclical- at least in regards to mankind and the human experience- likely the Cosmos as well, but that's outside my scope of comprehension.
Seeking, learning, loving , hoping, suffering, dying - these are our living mandates. It's what we do with them that matters- if it matters for a moment or a hundred lifetimes, it's still only temporary. Until the next time.
If there's always a next time, why struggle so much with the present? Or, as my Inner Nihilist annoyingly insists-"why bother?-nothing you do makes any difference."
Sometimes I want to throttle my Inner Nihilist . He's got a depressing sense of the absurd and I fear he knows more about life than I do- which pisses me off, as my I.N. is often wrong about so much other stuff. Why can't he be wrong about NOW?
Maybe he is. Maybe he is.
A List I Stole
The below are supposed to be good Adsense nonsense keywords- get people to visit yer site,ya know?. There are sites that will sell you articles featuring these subjects, but I can save you a lot of money- for I am a real-life , honest-to -gumballs expert on every single topic below. Except for the mega life health one.
I don't know what mega life health is.
If it means drugs, I'm batting 1.000.
Over the next few weeks I'll be exploring each keyword in an individual post. I will retain the copyright , but you may feel free to paste them into your site. I doubt if anyone'll make a fucking penny but at least I can try to educate those unfortunates who aren't gifted with my Alexandrian Library of Experience and Expertise. Plus it'll give me something to do at work.
KEYWORDS: I will link as I go. Stay tuned.
'Liberated' from
Here are some of the keywords with their CPC
Keyword Average CPC $
alcohol rehab 8.25
adult friend 7.14
adwords 5.78
amex 2.97
advertising 2.15
asbestos cancer 19.25
anti spam software 14.50
airplanes 1.25
adult 0.91
auctions 0.95
buy domain 8.98
buy a domain 10.76
consolidate loans 19.65
cars 1.85
car 1.86
cheap flights 1.71
domain lookup 9.90
home equity loans 20.15
merchant account 9.7
mega life health 19.66
phone system 5.1
reviews 0.48
songs 0.24
xbox
I don't know what mega life health is.
If it means drugs, I'm batting 1.000.
Over the next few weeks I'll be exploring each keyword in an individual post. I will retain the copyright , but you may feel free to paste them into your site. I doubt if anyone'll make a fucking penny but at least I can try to educate those unfortunates who aren't gifted with my Alexandrian Library of Experience and Expertise. Plus it'll give me something to do at work.
KEYWORDS: I will link as I go. Stay tuned.
'Liberated' from
Here are some of the keywords with their CPC
Keyword Average CPC $
alcohol rehab 8.25
adult friend 7.14
adwords 5.78
amex 2.97
advertising 2.15
asbestos cancer 19.25
anti spam software 14.50
airplanes 1.25
adult 0.91
auctions 0.95
buy domain 8.98
buy a domain 10.76
consolidate loans 19.65
cars 1.85
car 1.86
cheap flights 1.71
domain lookup 9.90
home equity loans 20.15
merchant account 9.7
mega life health 19.66
phone system 5.1
reviews 0.48
songs 0.24
xbox
Monday, March 13, 2006
I do it all for You
Well, sorta. This blogg is more of an exercise in optimistic self-loathing, pessimistic narcissism and indulgent navel-gazing than it is a gift to humanity - (it's also chock-a-block full with stuff that I make up- it's mere coincidence that this stuff is usually true) ...
-BUT-
For YOU, I have made it much easier to leave a comment. No more excuses. I have already started getting spam as a result, but it'll be worth it if I get so much as single word from YOU or you, or you - but mainly YOU.
-BUT-
For YOU, I have made it much easier to leave a comment. No more excuses. I have already started getting spam as a result, but it'll be worth it if I get so much as single word from YOU or you, or you - but mainly YOU.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Dog-In-Can Scam
There's a new Gypsy scam making the rounds- the Dog-In-a-Can Scam. It's like this:
The con artist approaches the mark with an offer to sell them a purebred dog on the cheap.
The dog, the scammer explains, has not hatched yet and is still inside it's egg, which looks just like a can of Kroger soda. They show the mark a photo such as the one above -see, they'll explain, your dog will look just like that.
Just wait until the next full moon and shake the can under a yew tree in a graveyard at midnight.
Pop the top- voila! -puppy comes out!
When the mark does this , they become wet, sticky and betrayed. There is no puppy.
Of course, professional biologists will know that dogs do not in fact hatch from eggs at all- that the dog is actually a Mammal and that a puppy is deposited in the cabbage patch by the Stork in the usual mammalian method of reproduction.
Make a note of this.
Friday, March 10, 2006
One Man's Pendulum is Another Man's Pit
Almost nothing pisses me off more than bullshit self-help charts and motivational slogans.
Present me with something like the above chart and I will be polite and smile, but I will secretly consider you to be not-as-bright-as-hoped-for and our relationship will be forever strained as a result.
So don't send me shit like this.
Did you bother to consider the choices here? This chart makes no fucking sense at all - please explain how "Profound Knowledge" is the mid-point between "Data" and "Emotion and Experience"? What crap.
If the person who drew this had any fucking idea what words actually mean, they would have moved Experience over to the left with Data. (1.Factual information, esp. information organized for analysis)
For example: You touch a hot stove and get burned. Your brain (which is a lot like a computer) stores that experience as data ,which your brain unconsciously cross-references with other data - such as pain, heat, blisters and first aid.Some of this data may cause an emotional change or response. In this case, Emotion can be expressed as Fear of Getting Burnt.
Hopefully, the combination of data and emotion will pay off and you'll use an oven glove next time. "Profound Knowledge", my ass.
Anyway, I've got my own charts:
Translation: Go for it- but be flexible. I hate to sound like an addled Objectivist, but quite simply, one must Adapt or be Destroyed.Unless you are born rich, in which case you probably need a shrink. Hire me. I'll fix you up good.
By the time you finish MY program you'll be so muddled, medicated and generally exploited that your Pendulum will look like this:
But you will be happier than you were before. Or at least I will, and that's really the important thing. To me.Speaking of my happiness, I've taken the time to "chart out" some of my "stressors". I'm told this is a useful tool for recovery. It's uneccesarily complicated bullshit that I painted over a simple math diagram. Why people love this sort of thing eludes me, but they are popular. I made this up in two minutes but it's fairly plausible-looking,is it not? To wit:
But really it's just another way of saying "Deal With It"- other than a schizoid break from reality, horrible addictions or suicide, what choice do we have?
Sweet Jesus, but I hate discovery /recovery/ self-development claptrap. I hate it so much that given a substantial cash infusion, I'd start a cult in some remote hideaway and get rich making up bullshit-at least until my wacked-out teenage disciples committed some horribly anti-social crime. After that happens I will stop laughing and feel remorse- only it'll be too late.
I digress.
Programs don't work for me.
You know what I kept hearing after I quit drinking? AA devotees say," don't even think about a sexual relationship until you've been sober for one year."
Talk about easier to say than do!
I mean, I've been sober for six months now and with each passing day I find it increasingly difficult to think about anything but sexual relationships. Every possible style, in every possible way, anywhere, anytime... If another six months passes like that, I might as well go back to drinking.
One year? Man, I've been there before and trust me, it's no fun. Doing so on purpose? No way!
Here's MY program for myself:
Tomorrow: I begin my internship at a top-flight production studio. This is a big step towards achieving my personal, career and artistic goals.Those three goals are closely tied to each other. I've worked my ass off for over a year to get there and I intend on making this work.
I won't be stopped.
Monday: I joined a Scrabble League I found at meetup.com . It meets Monday. It's 95% women and the one guy looked like a total nerd goofus. (My kinda guy, really)
Even nerd goofus' need lovin' and I bet that guy is doing really well for himself. He should be. Love a nerd and it will love you back in ways you never thought possible- it'll be more intense because you might not expect such passion from a Scrabble geek.
My experience tells me that Scrabble is an amazingly accurate gauge of sexual compatability - far better than these crap-ass "Dating Services". (More on these later)
If I can't get laid at a Scrabble League I might as well give up entirely, join the Great Unlaid, start dressing like a Klingon and attend Star Trek conventions, Magic:the Gathering tournaments or some other such asexual pursuit.
Scrabble is not like those other things.
Scrabble, played between the right persons , can be a deeply erotic experience-a sort of foreplay, if you will.
Of course, if you haven't been laid for six months, even washing the dishes can be a deeply erotic experience.
Oh, dishes...suds me up, baby!...sigh...oh... SOAP!... aaaahhhh....
I need to be alone now.
Recurring #38.6
The first clue is the sound of the ocean: swoosh, crash, swoosh in steady time; distant cries of seagulls swirl around overhead like the last notes of of a song just ended and already half-forgotten.
Now I smell the salt water.
Some part of me feels a cool breeze mixed with a steady warmth of sun.
Ears. Good.
Nose . Good.
Skin. Check.
After a darkness of indeterminate length, I grow eyes.
I use my new eyes to look around.
Alright. It's not the wide, flat beach I was expecting, but that's fine. I'm at the top of a very tall, rocky cliff. There's no sand, just rocks and some scrub brush growing in the scant reddish soil trapped between stones. In front and far below, I see a cove maybe a half-mile across and a like distance in, scooped out of the craggy coast like the side pocket on an enormous billiard table. Beyond that lies a vast, dark ocean. For some reason, you can't see the ocean from the beach below- or at least it looks a lot different from there- but I always forget to wonder about that once I get there.
Cut into the stone to my left is the first in what I know to be a long set of stairs, a switchback trail leading down to a small but wonderfully secluded beach of pure white sand ringed with monolithic stones. You can't see it from here, but it's there. Take my word for it. I've been here before-lots of times.
There's usually someone here to meet me. Someone I know, someone from TV, a stranger- could be anybody, really. Not this visit. This isn't a big deal though, I know my way around pretty well by now. I decide to head down to the beach. I left something there the last time I was here and I'd like to check on it.
I almost trip over my goddamned cat. What's she doing here?
"Gittaway!" I command the chubby orange beast underfoot, stepping on it's tail.
"Fuck off", says my cat.
This is not as strange as it sounds. In this place, almost everything- animal, vegetable, mineral- can talk if you stop to listen long enough, and if my cat could speak in places away from here I'm certain "fuck off" would be one of her pet sayings.
"Jeez, sorry. I didn't see you. Don't you know there's a cliff here?"
She licks a paw and wipes the top of her head. I wonder if she's going to reply. Doesn't seem likely, so I start down the path.
"Follow me if you want" I call back over my shoulder.
"Hold up. I know a short-cut".
I wait as the cat saunters over .
We descend without talking for some time. Going down is easy- it looks scary, but it's really more like an escalator or conveyer belt. You move even if you don't walk, but you can stop if you want to. It's cool.
Someone should invent this, I think for the thousandth time.
We descend until the cat says wait -she walks over to a large blue rectangular stone set into the grey cliffside. She walks into it and disappears . I hear a muffled sound from behind the stone. Meow?
I follow. The stone has no substance- it's just shadowlightness; serving to conceal a dimly glowing green tunnel leading almost straight down. Gravity here is unpredictable but it's always harmless, so I jump in. Whee!
I land gently on familiar white sand. Nearby , the cat sits next to a number of carefully arranged coin-sized stones. The roundish pebbles spell out a name.
The cat idly swats at a vowel without actually hitting it.
"C'mere," she says.
I go.
"See these pebbles? Remember putting them here?"
"Uh, yeah. I do."
I'm blushing. The last time I was here, it was with a young woman I met once in New Orleans .I can't recall her name . That beach visit wasn't exactly a sexual situation, it was more like a therapy session. She listened to my melancholy song of longing for a while and then she advised me to spell a certain name on the beach. That would be all I needed- the rest was fate. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but right now it's pretty embarrassing to think about.
"I can't believe you were dumb enough to do that" says the cat, who has suddenly become New Orleans Girl. NOG is a stunning mulatto woman with carefully unkempt knotty dreadlocks and mocha skin so perfect it looks airbrushed. She has the same impossible witching eyes that she had when we met in 1980-something. Her left eye is deep blue, her right is dark green. There's not much difference visible unless you stare into them. Then you see it.
She is two worlds.
I am a little bit afraid of NOG, but I don't have time to think about her now.Three shiny green submarines have broken the surface of our little inlet and they seem to be heading this way. They look like giant floating kazoos until they get closer.
I see that they are some sort of finless fish; gleaming, tapered cigar-shaped bodies visible above the water, each with one hemispherical eye pointed skyward like the canopy of an old jet plane. It's very difficult to look at the eyes.
Their giant iridescent scales change color from blue to green and back as I watch them. They are some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
The creatures stop a mere 20 feet from shore. They aren't as large as I thought, but they're still impressive.
"What are they?", I ask NOG.
"Two of them are you, one of them is not."
"How can I tell which is which?"
She gestures at the name on the sand.
Oh. I get it.
I grab a few rocks from a middle letter. They're a lot heavier than they look. I throw one at the leftmost creature. The stone barely goes four feet. I keep trying, switching targets and throwing so hard it hurts, but I can barely reach the water, much less the glimmering beings on it.
Finally I only have one stone left. It was the first stone in the first letter of the name- now it's just a single pebble.
It's part of nothing.
I throw it away.
It hits the center animal directly in it's eye and the world explodes and goes dark forever. A short forever.
I grow sight and name it vision.
With my new orbs I look into the oldest eyes anyone can ever see.
One blue, one green.
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