life as a miner

It's hot, damned hot. I knew from the beginning of this week I would be in a foul mood. In turn I blame the weather, but as we all know, we ourselves are the predicators of our own demise. This evening I peered out of an opening in one of my crumbling walls. Out past the mounds of debris and carcasses stretched in folds, I looked at the place reserved for the birds. In contrast to the bleak interiors of my room, a loom from my mind that beckons, my tongue hanged freely out of the sides of my mouth, slobber having slipped off into the wind to take the rest of my voice that remains away.

I've been particularly stressful and done my best to engage the principle dealer of dread for so many years now that I believe it's beginning to taunt me by reminding myself of the reality of the situation I'm in. The rules are simple. You live once and you die trying to play by them but somewhere along the lines I came to thinking that the balance of life lies within the imbalance. One day I will be replaced or I will be killed because I knew too much and was therefore a form of contingent liability. So I live my life in fear. Strange for a creature that is I, that had dealt in terror for most of it. Every day an excuse with another exercise in my own hypocrisy. I will terrorize others in an attempt to abate my own.

Despite the stress of this position, I admit that there are others far worse off. For all those that arrive to life, only one of a hundred would get a posting. The rest get death. In my posting, I imagine I have others working under me. Plenty of them younger, stronger people that all covet my position relentlessly. The only thing that will keep me safe is the legendary cruelty that came with me. For no other creature in this world has taken more life than I. Not one. It has taken most of my life to come to terms with this. And in doing so realize that I will be killed.

Lingering in front of the opening, the uncanny ability of being able to solve those around, simply by watching and listening. There is nothing I fear more. Long silences. Sudden bursts. Bizarre conversation. The only thing. Such behaviors have resulted in long years of murder. That unpredictability that all maniacs possess. And it haunts me ceaselessly. Sliding away from the view through my crumbing walls, my eye shadows in it's known irony in the form of paradox. The paradox of what is good and bad at the same time.

bold territory

I contributed my $10.00 to the cause. How about you? As it turns out, a few other people have went out to see the movie, especially during the bold territory of weather we've been experiencing these past couple of days.

The opening, the biggest so far this year, also has surpassed those of the first two movies in the X-Men series. The first, X-Men had $54.5 million in sales when it opened in July 2000, and X2: X-Men United grossed $85.6 million in its opening weekend in May 2003.

How come? I’ve got no idea. After a lousy year of mainstream cinema, maybe people were desperate for a half-decent blockbuster? In what can only be related news, Fox announced that there will indeed be a fourth and possibly more X-Men movies. And why not? Franchise is a license to print money. And, in truth, the comic book has a rich and lengthy history from which to draw more of a premise for each character and of course, plot lines.

As for an article I'm in concurrence. I think you may like to read it. You may also find there are a few points to disagree with, but they’re well argued and it’s full of excellent advice:

If you don’t really care, don’t write. If you are a student and everybody is talking about exams and papers and you simply don’t care, let it be. If your job bores you, it will bore us. (If you despise your job with a rich, enduring passion, that’s another thing entirely!) Write for yourself; you are, in the end, your most important reader.

The only mistake made is an awkward and crass plug for his company’s product late in the piece. I also noticed he makes references of these tools like everybody’s heard of them and I’m guessing that nine out of ten readers haven’t. He presses readers to "write honestly", but hasn’t been honest enough himself. Despite the missteps, it’s a readable piece, and I’d recommend it to anybody who writes for the web.

grind my gears

Ye have little faith over his shortcomings due to circumstances involving a abnormal embolism. An embolism far greater than that of any reasoning between the extremely redundant motions and lines challenged by expressing myself monosyllabically enough for you to understand them all. I vouch for what’s worse; therefore losing myself or another in a figuratively based conflict based on falsehoods for the final thought of; is there peace after all?

Here’s my two cents. These days’ freedom is bullshit. As if the Night Of The Living Dead, an entire continent of zombies wander this strip mall landscape in search of brains. We shop at mega-stores that aren’t fond of full time employees because it means giving them proper benefits. These same retailers flood television screens with commercials depicting themselves as community saviors aligned with the needs of the thinly budgeted, while selling pants purchased for 15 cents for $15 dollars. And, to add insult to injury, we are also often made to adhere to the morality foisted on us by such retailers. Walmart, for example, represents a percentage of the gross national product of the United States, which means that it has the ability to set standards based on the beliefs of its owners with regards to things like music, film, and literature. Entertainment companies, who can’t afford not to do business with them, are forced to either play ball or lose the cooperation of America’s largest retailer.

But that’s what’s to be expected in a world in which people wholly removed from conflict, famine, and a whole host of other insecurities, can talk loosely about such subjects without batting an eye. Our entire economy is possible because of the exploitation of those less fortunate.

Pity poor George W. Bush - the much-maligned president is at an all-time low in the polls. And if Canada's new prime minister wants to stick around, he should learn from Mr. Bush's presidency and avoid making the same mistakes.

Little mistakes - like flouting important international agreements. Mr. Bush pulled out of the Kyoto Protocol to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, for example, in spite of scientific consensus that the problem is urgent and a public that sees global warming as a serious problem. -- read more.

A few words of interest to follow on from a weekly column produced by David Suzuki, the renowned environmental activist. He was in town the other night to promote his latest book and I attended the hearing with interest. It was a heartened glimpse into a brilliant life with a impetus of drawing attention to the importance of protecting our besieged planet from increasing degradation. For the less veraciously susceptible intellects, a world where we buy and sell ourselves bags of our own shit filled with excuses, such as the belief that globalization will catapult us into ‘the now’,so that those who are already swimming in pools of cash can have better access to cheap markets where entire families will work for 3 cents an hour making shoes that some whiner of a kid will spend 30 minutes throwing a temper tantrum over until his mother spends the $200 dollars to shut him up. Meanwhile, his counterpart arrives home to the news that his 14 year old sister, forced to prostitute herself in an attempt to help bolster family income, has been found floating in the river.

We are forgetting the fact that we are all in over our heads and going to douse our drawers over the edge that is far more devastating than any terrorist organization or a weapon of mass destruction. I implore all of my readers to visit his website to gain what it is worth.

Even this blog isn’t immune. I’m a Yahoo/Flickr member. Yahoo enthusiastically collaborates with the Chinese government with regards to censorship, not to mention that it has also aided in the arrest and imprisonment of a Chinese journalist. Yahoo’s Jerry Yang claims that the company is merely abiding by Chinese law. What he obviously isn’t willing to do is refrain from doing business in China because of the position in which it places Yahoo. Money, at the end of the day, motivates otherwise intelligent people to avert their eyes from those aspects of their business that are anything but ethical. I believe in the power of the social networking capabilities and applications created to bring people together and allow them to share information. It’s a shame, a real shame, that they have been sullied by a company that finds it acceptable to aid in the restriction of such things in other countries.

But let’s face it - hypocrisy is in. Be it me, you, us, or them – everyone’s in on it. Even the vast majority of Suzuki's environmentally friendly followers are habitual oil guzzlers, all to head home in by the end of said event.

As for the democratically elected leaders, they lie to their citizens and it’s forgotten within a matter of weeks. Wars are waged based on lies, and yet those responsible are never held properly accountable. Human rights violations are ignored in favour of fostering stronger economic relationships with those who perpetrate them. The rule of law is mentioned when convenient and discarded when it isn’t, as are human rights. Syria is bad, Saudi Arabia isn’t. The passive genocide in Sudan continually slips under the radar while Iran remains in the crosshairs (though I will admit that Ahmadinejad seems an idiot. Thankfully, the Iranian people can take heart in the fact that they’re not alone when it comes to suffering idiotic Presidents/Prime Ministers). The United Nations isn’t allowed to inspect American nuclear facilities, but when it’s denied access by other countries then it’s grounds for sanctions and possible military action. Of course, that shouldn’t stop us from examining the justification for the acquisition of the bomb, be it by the United States, Russia, or anyone else. The second that Hiroshima was erased from the face of the earth, the world’s powers knew that their securities would require the immediate acquisition on a nuclear deterrent. Of course it’s madness, but that didn’t stop the US and the USSR from engaging in the most dangerous and disastrous arms race in human history, did it.

Speaking of madness... Politcal left v.s. right and the Sponsorship Scandal has polarized Canadian politics, taking the onus off of what needs to be publicly accomplished and placing it on the ambitions of those that would use whatever opportunity possible to further their agendas and careers. And, as far as I’m concerned, there isn’t one in the entire lot that doesn’t seem a mannequin.

There are shootings in the streets, people lock their doors when once not long ago it was rarely done, school teachers are being nabbed with hard drives stuffed with child pornography, our military is being used to further one of the most reckless military agendas in recent history and there’s rarely mention of it (and when there is, people usually refuse to believe it, often defending the practice by offering up trite justifications), and to top it all off - next door neighbours are ever more strangers than friends.

But look on the bright side – you’ve got your paycheck.

Thus, beer and lap dances for all and everyone a good night.

And that’s what grinds my gears - Dianne.

motivational seminars

I'm a not particularly attrative man. I'm not particularly the most wowee good time kind of guy either. Find me in most case scenerios and I'd rather cover my face with both my hands in hopes of you or I disappearing regardless of being for better or worse. What I mean to say in this gabble of mine is yes, as you're certainly as, er, comely as you are you are not for a demisecond the person to insist on rushing into these words inside of a consciousness made of a profound wretchedness. Some idiot part of this brain insists on rushing the words out through any transferred means neccesary in order to either slide you into this similar state of despair or substitute your state of thinking from that of a woman wearing the skimpiest of tops, the tiniest of pants. Possessing a pair of enormous, magically anti-gravitational breasts; endowments that not so much depended as suspended before her like helium-filled spheres, swaying and moving as she moves from side to side along with that tight... Well, assuming you've got the hang of the basic premise here, I imagine you're still a long means away from that one event-packed long weekend much like myself.

I succumbed to watching one of those news television episodes that attempted to clarify on post 9/11 traumatic syndromes, high-tensions, anxieties and alike. Ultimately, I believe, the goal was to provide moments of hilarity where one is invited into asking themselves the questions about their very own common fundamental principles. Such as: try your best not to kill yourself or other people, and love is a good thing so try using it in a sentence today, and there's hope after all--and my personal favourite--hey! You're forgiven. All I have to say is if guilt and fear were currencies I would have started my own religion to capitalize on it by now.

With a lifetime of experience and largely thanks to the reality of the United States, I have understood something quite different. In the last post I described people as indoctrinated with ideas such as patriotism, and for only one reason: because it serves the interests of the wealthy upper class: the plutocrats, who are not concerned at all about their country, nor any country in particular, since they belong to NO country... they are not only above the law, they are above borders. The only God they serve and honor is wealth. Their greed and selfishness are their virtues while they cultivate indifference and passivity among their slaves, in particular their herd of 300 million American sheep sitting in front of their televisions so extremely effective at capturing their curiosity like tiny bathroom products and miniature toothpaste tubes.

In the 30s, Hitler connived with, and was assisted by, the upper class of the US and the UK who were only too happy to help Hitler in his great plan to conquer and enslave the USSR. The US was also in favour of France becoming a part of Germany. But as usual, the Americans greatly miscalculated and thanks to the glorious Red Army and the heroic Resistance ("terrorists" in White House jargon), Hitler failed miserably in his conquest, so that when the war was almost over, the Americans found it more expedient to land in Normandie and destroy part of France as well as a large part of Germany. They even "suicided" their pet, Adolf.

The ordinary American does not know any of this, nor is he allowed to know as otherwise a revolution would be a sure thing. Therefore, the government-controlled press and TV have for mission to brainwash the people from crib to grave. They do such a great job of it that even now, when a small part of the truth is seeping out, many if not most Americans don't believe any of it but prefer to stick to the fables and illusions they have been accustomed to believe during a lifetime of indoctrination.

In other words the severe mental conditions of Americans explains how so many Americans have supported and still support the crimes committed by America in Latin America, Africa, Asia and Europe. To be honest, one has to say that the plutocrats are spending large sums of money to carry out their brainwashing. They know that the foundation of the plutocracy rests on this mental manipulation of the masses... masses of fools who believe what they see and what they hear: yes, a winning combination!

Now, let's see. Since patriotism means the defence of one's country against foreign aggression, it necessarily follows that the Iraqi "terrorists" are not terrorists at all but heroic patriots who defend their motherland against the barbaric aggression of American semi-human gangster-terrorists who came all the way from the other side of the world to liberate the oil fields.

This was to be just the start since the Americans were planning to liberate the oil of Iran, Russia and other places. True, they already succeeded in liberating the oil of the ex-Soviet republics by paying, subverting and enslaving the local governments there, as well also as in carrying on miscellaneous acts of terrorism in that entire area. But I just heard that in Uzbekistan, they have now been unceremoniously kicked out of there. Well another defeat for Nazism. Anyway, they had no business being there in the first place.

But here is where some misunderstanding arises. For instance, the American whorish media keeps calling the heroic Iraqi patriots... "terrorists", while they refer to the American Nazi terrorists as "patriots".

Seems to be some confusion here but that should not be any surprise. During the Second World War, the German Nazi terrorists also called us Resistance guys: "terrorists", while they called "patriots" the traitors who were working for them. Doesn't this show the truth of the statement: "One learns from history that one doesn't learn from history". In any case, if peace should come back some day, some people are now proposing that, through a Nuremberg-type tribunal, all American "patriots" be condemned to death for complicity in crimes against Humanity, while the so-called Iraqi "terrorists" be celebrated as heroes who will live for ever in the heart of all men of good will.

This however, will probably not happen for the simple reason that the main force governing the world... including the USA, is the plutocracy... the terrorists! (which some may wish to call Illuminati).

But we must not stop at this point. Consider that in America today, there are between 20 and 40% of "patriots". This is the so-called "majority" in rigged elections, and this "majority" supports the president and the country, right or wrong. As you can see, this "patriotism" presents the gravest threat to Humanity's survival. Why? Because there is no need to be an Einstein to notice that the US government - as in fact most other governments - is controlled by the Military-Industrial Complex... the plutocrats! Therefore, the "patriots" are nothing more or less but the brainwashed tools of the plutocrats and it follows that their supposed "patriotism" is in fact Slavery to the plutocracy.

Had these "patriots" one little bit of a brain, they would see that their first duty is not at all to the plutocrats but to humanity and it follows that their human duty is to help the poor Iraqi victims fight this American plutocracy as well as help in the slaughter of all existing American troops.

Thus instead of the devilish slogan "Support our troops", they should follow the human slogan "Destroy our troops", since indeed when they support those gangsterish animals they become accomplices of their terrorist government while otherwise, they would be heroes.

It is easy to say all this but it is unlikely to happen if we reflect that for generation after generation, the Americans have been subjected to a plutocratic brainwashing transforming them into servile slaves of the plutocracy, with artificially implanted tendencies towards greed and selfishness, accompanied by indifference and passivity regarding government affairs. Moreover, just to make sure their interest does not deviate in the direction of social problems, they are discreetly encouraged to take refuge in SEX, DRUGS and CRIME. It is no coincidence nor accident that the United States has become the world centre for criminal and deviate behaviour: just check world statistics! See, America is FIRST in something!

At this point, one could ask the logical question: What is to be done? However this is a question I need not and must not answer. You know the answer and the rest is up to you.

voice of innuendo clamours

“Patriotism, better said is the love for your country above the love for humanity.” - J.D.

Nearly everything normally associated with patriotism – wars, rituals of nationalistic loyalty, sentimentalized (or invented) traditions, parades, flags, etc. – is quite dreadful and full of appalling claims of superiority and pre-eminence. Can you still remember those days when one believed there was nothing more important than to serve our country, even die for our country, defend it against invaders and we heard or were rather told "don't ask what your country can do for you but what can you do for your country" At that time of hearing it, it all sounded quite correct and logical, like many other tunes from the day, like....the Spice Girls.

After a trip to the dentist my jaw feels broken. Especially when hearing about Captain Nichola Goddard of the 1st Royal Canadian Horse Artillery who was killed in firefight near Kandahar yesterday. She’s apparently the first Canadian woman to die in combat since 1945

"Capt. Goddard was killed while Canadian troops were supporting Afghan security forces in an operation against the Taliban, who had massed in the district. Hundreds of Canadian troops are involved in the clash, which was one of the biggest firefights since the arrival of the 2,300 Canadian troops in Afghanistan."

I have very mixed feelings about Canada’s role in Afghanistan. Primarily, I believe we have no buisness being there. As the events unfolded while debate raged in Parliament about our Afghanistan mission. The Conservatives extended the mission by two years to 2009 (notably, the year President Bush leaves office and apparently the earliest possible exit from Iraq). Harper called a vote on the issue yesterday afternoon, and won it by 4 votes.

How, exactly, does one reach the conclusion that by wanting to end a war, those fighting it aren’t being supported? It seems to me that the best way to support a soldier is to promote peace, and thus their removal from a situation that could very well claim their life and the lives of others including the innocent.

Over the last few days I’ve received numerous response about my website, people condemning me for not focusing on the positive aspects of tragedy or in fact... myself... and I have sat here in silence, blankly staring at this screen, stunned by them.

Have we been so submerged in denial as to not be able to look at this plainly? Have we become so accustomed to living each day in a state of constant self affirmation and arrogance that we must intrinsically find some fantastic aspect to all of this to better demonstrate that even in the face of mass incompetence, tarnishing our fantastic exterior is inconceivable?

If positivism or thoughtful insight on flights of fancy is what you’re after, besides going to the club to have it away, or on the other side, donating money to help the victims of any disaster, start asking yourself some tough questions about government, about how we view the loss of life in other parts of the world, about the realities of poverty and inequality in our society, and how we have grown distant from each other despite the fact that there are more of us now than ever before. Perhaps, when all is said and done, tears should encompass more of our days. Maybe then more might be done about the state of this world rather than very little, with a smile. As my mentioned, cold and sterile self in a voice of innuendo clamours and your neighbourhood blinds shut, the half dazed answer to your curiosity of my long weekend will not be as if it were rehearsed, or nothing, but wherever it may be I will be split like lightning. Gone.

my satan sense tingling

I’ve been dwelling on new ways to increase the productivity of my life as of late. I haven’t done a lot with it as I’m more than a few screws loose from a pretty solid approach towards what I expect to be a not so wide embrace. My Satan sense tingling far be it from me to question our dumb civilization or stupid customs. Believe it or not, on a weekday Tuesday I decided to head into the public and smoke the kipper back for breakfast with the old pal J-Rod. We had a couple drinks and talked about the carnival of our realities. Soon enough we conspired for the upcoming long weekend in an attempt to find intrigue. I think he’s on the right track, but I also think any attempts he makes in appealing to regulators of the opposite-sex will be somewhat on deaf ears. Then again, now that he’s bigger and badder... the folks may heed this air of present tension. I dunno.

Afterwards, for the main event, J-Rod and I went out to see the film Art School Confidential which started out honest and funny and seemed promising but ended pretty lame as we had found. It didn't suck outright, but the cop-out ending certainly brought it close. The moral of the story? You'll never make it as an artist unless you lie, cheat, and scheme your way to the top... or you're a no-talent hack that gets mistaken for genius. Though it contains some modicum of truth, I found it entirely too discouraging and cynical to be entertaining all together entertaining.


I am not positive, but I think Art School Confidential will end up being one of those films that most people hate, but a few, prominent, loud people really feel passionate about whether they really liked it or not. I sat down not wanting to write this review because I was always told that if you cannot say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Then I decided I could say a few nice things, but not nearly enough to adhere to the sentiment of that declaration. I thought about just leaving the space blank with a few words like, "Make up your own mind on this one." Part of the problem is that there is so much technically right and wrong with this film by the reunited Ghost World team of Terry Zwigoff (director) and Daniel Clowes (writer) that settling into either camp automatically puts you dangerously close to the fence—a rickety fench, at that, which might just fall over and crush you with the weight of the opposition. Boiling it down, though, if a film is technically flawed in many spots, it almost doesn’t matter that there were some good parts, they are quite simply negated.

So, the technically good parts: It is about time somebody skewered pretentious fine arts students with a little of their own medicine—face it, most of the really great skewer films were probably made by pretentious fine arts students. So, I say let the skewerers be skewerees for a change. This makes for some good humor, especially if you are, know or have known some fine arts students from a real fine arts school and the professors. From my perspective, gathered by my history in art, there is a lot of truth in these characters and situations minus the campus strangler, of course.

Technically, there wasn’t that much in the area of filming, lighting, costuming, and set design to criticize. The main cast includes Max Minghella as Jerome the main character and Picasso-wannabe, Sophia Myles as nude model and daughter of a famous artist Audrey, Matt Keeslar as Jonah the mysterious new student and Jerome’s rival, John Malkovich in very rare form as the archetypal visual arts instructor Professor Sandiford, Jim Broadbent as the alcoholic former art-student-has-been turned sage Jimmy, Joel Moore as Bardo Jerome’s college mentor, Ethan Suplee as Jerome’s filmmaking roommate Vince, Steve Buscemi in an uncredited role of Broadway Bob restraunteur and art gallery owner, and more of a cameo that a real role, Anjelica Huston as Art History Professor Sophie.

The casting director did an exceptionally good job with the possible exception of Jerome. Max Minghella comes across as a nice boy, but he doesn’t come across as a really great artist or even a kid who will go on to become one. More on this later in the flawed section to come. Mr. Malkovich was stupendous—he nailed Professor Sandiford to a tee from his holier than thou attitude, to his my advice comes with a price professing, to his "I’m always there for you as long as you aren’t better than I am" teaching philosophy, he was perfect. Joel Moore also did a brilliant job with Bardo—I’ve met this character 10 or 12 times in my life, and as his character states, he is just a cliché of a cliché. The story concept, I believe, started out a good as a good one. And, to be fair, it was an interesting, interlocking mystery that takes advantage of the twists and turns that cropped up. Unfortunately, the final twist just about completely ruined the film.

Now for the exposing the flaws… My first inclination was to go after the script / plot. With more thought, however, it occurred to me that it is the director’s job to reject a poor script and ask for re-writes. In fact, when all is said and done, the lack of success of this film has to come down on the shoulders of the director in this case. Here are a few of the most glaring wrong turns made. First, casting Max Minghella in the lead was a poor choice. Mr. Minghella is a talented young actor. But, he was not ready for this role, nor maybe even to carry a picture of this complexity. For the film really to work, we had to be able to believe that he has/had the capacity to become a brilliant artist. Unfortunately, all we believe he can be is a lovesick puppy who confuses politeness and courtesy for real artistic sensitivity, hard work for creativity, and outspokenness for genius. Were I his mentor as an actor, I would have sent him to enroll in fine arts school for a month and get to know the kid he was playing. The role he turned in, the kid he played just doesn’t exist in a real fine arts school, he would never have gotten in. Art schools require portfolios and talent. They don’t care what you look like, if you have any social graces, they certainly don’t care if you are a doey-eyed, polite young man full of chivalry and happy thoughts. And, when he went through the class critiques, if he were whom he aspired to be, he would have been able to back up his crass comments about other students’ works, not just have a minor temper tantrum about how the other kid’s work wasn’t any good. As I say, I don’t fault Mr. Minghella. I think he was just in over his head in a very pivotal role that required someone with a temperament more along the lines of a younger Leonardo DiCaprio in say Basketball Diaries (1995) to carry it off. After this casting flaw, however, the blatant script flaw should have been even more obvious instead of less to the director who should have asked for a re-write.

I don’t want to ruin the story, so I’ll just say this…late in the film, to try to win the heart of Audrey, Jerome makes a decision that, in the visual arts world, would be considered nearly the highest possible crime (just below murder). This decision is so desperate, so pathetic, as to force a nearly total reassessment of how you have felt about him as a character all along. Worse, the decision is entirely incongruous with all that you thought you knew about him. It is the worst decision since Sophie’s Choice, and orders of magnitude more grim. In the end, it was this that really sabotaged the film. So, for all that’s right with the film, the fatal flaw is just too big for the rest to overcome. The film has its small merits—it's just not worth seeing at this time for the usual price.

But the reaction of Jerome—and the viewer—is derision towards the arrogance and phoniness of an art world that rewards high-concept or no-talent work while dismissing deserving efforts. Minghella switches his soft brown eyes into burning embers, as his character grows increasingly disillusioned and becomes as willing as the rest of them to sell his soul for 15 minutes of Warholian fame, money and the adoration of his muse.

If you’re an aspiring artist, prepare to sell-out or slit your wrists. In the meatime, keep smiling. Always remember to keep smiling. Whatever will be, will be. There is nothing more pathetic than a sore loser freak of an artist. So keep smiling. Everything will take care of itself. As in that same night I had taken a photo of roadkill while walking my way home. Thank goodness for art on the sly.

if i had a lightsaber

“If I had a ligthsaber, which I don't, yet. I would kick your ass. Or at least scare you a little bit and force you to watch all the Star Wars movies until you were mentally empty inside. Trust me, I did that with my ex and she dumped me seventeen hours later.” – SW forum.

For shame to say I’m with few choice words to explain how I am a shipwreck of a son who cannot happen to help save Mother’s Day. Some people just make it so easy to put it off (for example, as in you not visiting this site to dawdle here for awhile, getting a better understanding of this person writing or a sense of intimacy as it were). The same is true for most things. I think this is all a symptom of the stress of modern society. Too much information and too little time to deal with it.

As a society we have become increasingly stressed as individuals. The causes are multitudinous: economic, population levels, pollution are just a few. Individuals growing up today are under a constant assault of information. As I’ve mentioned before the sum of all human knowledge is on a logarithmic progression doubling under. As a species we have not evolved to handle this type of stress. This is constant, unending, ever increasing stress. We are only designed to handle sudden jolts of fight/flight stress. We have been born into a world that is continuously increasing the stresses on individuals. Is it any wonder that we’re living in a world of walls, be it visual, olfactory or aural, and that our art will reflect that wall of stress?

The perfect example of all fine art or ability falling apart under stress is Star Wars. This subject is tricky so I'm going to have to start at the beginning and go through it for everyone at home.

Star Wars: (1977) The greatest space movie of all time, hands down, no question. There willnever be another space movie better than the original. (Blade Runner doesn't count because it's in Los Angeles, which is kind of like outer space and yet not). A funny thought just occurred to me. A good name for a porno. Star Wars (A Nude Hope).

Empire: (1980) Empire is the darkest of the three and thus my favourite. Even though common sense, and economics, dictated that there would be a third film it was nice to see the good guys lose for a change. I must bring up one thing though. YODA. Though passable in places, the arrival of this character signalled the beginning of the end as far as I was concerned. The cheese factor (or CF) could only grow in leaps and bounds from there. The Hoth stuff was cool, as was Bespin.

Jedi: (1983) Like child abuse, I've tried to block out Jedi's existence for some time. The arrival of the Ewoks was just too much to bare. Was it just me or were there far too many burping noises in this film? And what's with all the fucking musical numbers? The cantina scene in A New Hope was one thing, but that bullshit at Jaba's Palace was embarrassing. The little Ewok "yub nub... jub jub... nub nub jubbity joo" song in it’s full glory at the end just made things worse, like being thrown into a dark pit only to discover that it's filled with 200 Bushmasters that haven't eaten in a month. But the crowning moment of cheese was when Chewie did that whole Tarzan swing onto that Imperial Walker with his hair dressing Ewok buddies. That moment ruined the whole picture for me. Not even the special edition could save that film (and I own all the known editions in the world). Now don't get me wrong. It's a Star Wars film so I love it by default. But as far as epic conclusions go I could have done without the fat fucking lizard, 2500 teddy bears, and a guy who played the Emperor who was about as evil as some jaded, bitter fuck sitting around at The Railway Club bitching about how they became a has-been without actually being anything at all. It could have been done so much better. I don't want to talk about it anymore. It makes my insides hurt.

So, we come to the new movies. In 1999, before having seen the release of the first of three care given prequels, I really didn’t care what it was going to be like as long as it didn't play to childish sensibilities. I wasn’t eager to rob the younger generation of anything but as we all know these were our movies, not theirs. I gave my hopes up and because of that have come to learn; we will always be disappointed when the saga ends and the circle is complete.

Yes, it’s weird. Perhaps all I’m trying to say is…Sometimes love hurts. Kicked my ass and made a mess out of me.

Anyways. Tell your mother I said thanks.

She is so sweat.

hand in my pocket

To pass the time.

part of the problem

A person who assesses my merits writes: Should I be part of the problem or part of the solution?

Be part of the problem. Being part of the solution takes too much energy and there's no comprehensive dental and medical. The problem has been evaluated and dispensed to the very heart of me saying I know where I stand and you a part of it. The problem pays and I will spare you from the whole happy and everything is open all day and all night anyway foray by saying every individual is special and unique, and as such, more important than everyone else. Blah blah *cough* bullshit.

In case you're out of the loop, the very nature of the problem is that of existence being competitive. You can see that hole in everyone and you can't escape it. The innate but carefully concealed hostility that is the most constant modality of our daily functioning. Surely you must have had your self-esteem challenged per se, external accomplishments, acquisitions, and the accolades of one’s own and in turn developed you own sense in defence with similarities to counter act.

With contempt there’s thinly veiled hostility, they come as the preferred emotional response to every separate entity to aggrandize itself in any way possible. If anything for an example, a interplay of egos comparing oneself to others, a cock fight, showing off if you will, seeking to one’s advantage wherever possible.

Me me me is the ultimate goal. I happen to hate social arenas with a passion for this very reason.

Maybe we just need to be thrown away a few times to notice we’re truly full of ourselves. I don’t know.

Thanks for sharing your rationally intuitive insight, no matter how numb, no matter how off, it’s illuminating. May your new day not be as ferocious as the last. You ought to rest your pretty head.

Be seeing you.

remember to forget

I will not eat today. I will not eat today not beause I am in protest. I not eat today because I am broke, plain and simple... like a joke. Times like these, when I visit downtown I often encounter the homeless people. Usually one may have the gut instinct of doing their own personal good deed for the day everytime they happen to give them something. A pat on your own back, right? Even though I am constantly hearing the same homeless-hostile stories: That they're actually well-off, just begging because it's easier than working; That they'll blow it all on alcohol or drugs; That I'm encouraging them to stay on the streets instead of forcing them into shelters and treatment facilities where they'll be better off. Many of the homeless I see appear to be in a state of stupor, whether from intoxication, mental confusion or just numbness I do not know. But more often when I see them I think...

The homeless and addicted are a perfect metaphor for all of us living in modern civilization.

We're not so different. We, the civilized masses, are lost, adrift, imprisoned. We do not know where we belong. We sense somehow that this life we are living is alien, wrong, not the way it should be. We are disconnected, confused, struggling. And we are addicted to consumption and debt and unable, even unwilling, to break these addictions. It is the only life we know. We cannot imagine living in a place that we know in our bones is home. We cannot imagine living a life where we have everything we need, take nothing more than what we need, and owe nothing to anyone. We are homeless and addicted, desperate to find a home that makes sense to us and to overcome our addictions and yet at the same time defiant, unwilling to accept the 'home' that others try to impose on us 'for our own good' or to break the addictions that give us such comfort, our only moments of joy and freedom.

Ricky's been kicking the gong, lickety split didn't take too long
A junkie's sick, a monkey's strong, that's what's wrong.
Well, I guess he's been messing around downtown
So sad to see the man losing ground
Winding down behind closed doors, on all fours.

Mama, don't you call him by name, he can't hear you anymore,
Even if he seems the same to you, that's a stranger to your door.
Go on, ask him what's he come here for.

Oh my God a monkey can move a man,
Send him to hell and home again
Empty hand in the afternoon, shooting for the moon.

It's halfway sick and it's halfway stoned
He'd sure like to kick but he's too far gone
Winding down with the methadone, he's all on his own.

Baby, don't you throw your love away, I hate to seem unkind.
It's only that I understand the man that the monkey can leave
behind.
I used to think he was a friend of mine.

- James Taylor, Junkie's Lament

Civilization is our pusher. It's The Man who keeps us hooked on consumption and debt, The Man who holds the key to our prison and gives us our illusory rush of elation when we buy and use his addictive product. The Man who seduces us back even when we have decided that life in his prison is insane, self-abusive, worse than death. The monkey is our addiction, without which we cannot live. And we wander the streets of civilization's artificial world in a daze, never really home, wondering what is missing, why we feel so lost. Civilization is our ghetto, a whole world of six billion homeless people, setting fires on every corner for warmth, ganging up and stealing everything we can get our hands on to pawn for our fixes, breeding babies already drug-addicted at birth.

So the next time you see a homeless person, or an addict, don't be frightened, angry, or filled with pathos. You are looking in the mirror. It is we who are homeless, and addicted. What will it take before we break the habit, walk away from The Man, and find our way home?

How can we break the habit when all of us are addicts, even The Man? When we have all forgotten what it's like to live without the monkey? When we have all become the hollow, empty, desperate shadows of men that the monkey leaves behind?

When I become too theoretical, when I ask with too much vehemence why people work jobs they hate, why so many earn their living by deforesting, or mining, or working other destructive jobs, my friend reminds me: "Sixty days", he says. "That’s how long it takes before people in the civilized world begin to die of starvation. Dave can’t quit his job because in sixty days his children will die. That's the primary reason most of us do not rebel. We have too much to lose". Ours is a politics, economics and religion of occupation, not of inhabitation, and as such the methods by which we are formed and governed have no legitimacy save that sprouting from the end of a cannon, from a can of pepper spray, from the rapist's penis, from the travesty of modern education, from the instilled dread of a distant hell and the false promise of a future techtopia, from the chains that bind children to beds and looms and from the everyday fear of starvation -- as well as an internalized notion of what constitutes social success or failure -- that binds us to wage slavery. The responsibility for holding destructive institutions, systems and culture accountable falls on each of us. We are the governors of this prison as well as the governed...

- Derrick Jensen, A Language Older Than Words

There's no methadone for the stuff we're hooked on. And no one left to administer it even if there were.

end of the line

Life's too short to bother with the fanciness to explain how I do not happen to like staying in line to get my head done, you’ll see what I mean. The question, no matter how you spin it; as in how are you? How have you been? Is as always: have you been staying in step, in other words, in line? People are afraid of those who are not in sequence to the step. It makes them look foolish for being in step. It might even cross their minds that they themselves are in the wrong step. Do not run nor cross the red line they say. If you go too far out in any direction, they will lose sight of you. They will feel threatened. Thinking that they are withdrawn in other words, not in part with something that they saw move away from them, they'll feel something's going on up in there that they don't know about.

Are you still here?

Then the revenge will set in. They will start thinking of how to get rid of you. Act mannerly towards them. If you don't, and you like being the asshole you are, they will take it personal. As you come directly in contact, do not make it a secret of how much you happen to require them. If they sense that you have no need for them, the first thing they will do is try to have you need them. If this doesn't work, they will tell you of how much they don't need you. If you do not show any sadness at a remark such as this, they will immediately tell other people of how much they don't need you. Your name will begin to come up in circles where people gather to talk about all the people they don't need or don't happen to desire. Whether you know it or not, you will become famous this way. Although you will only get the people who you don't need all the more angry, you will at the end of the day become a whole topic of conversation. Needless to say, these people who don't need you will start hating themselves for having to talk about you. Then you yourself will start hating yourself for causing so much hate. As you can see, it will all end in one great gunburst.

Don't you just hate gossip?

For my true believers, my new photo section from flickr is now up and running; I truly hope that the return of this section will shut you up. To be quite honest with you, I’d forgotten how much fun it is. As the visual stimuli happens to please to the observer you are, (never to be mirrored here) when it comes to commenting, I am not quite sure what you mean by ‘restrained’ when I ask you to tell me what you think. It worries me. All the stuff worth seeing anyway is migrated over there, and I don’t anticipate making any more posts here all too soon, following a long stretch of business, procrastination, and a bunch of other crap not worth explaining. Corresponding posts on the new site. Get it? Got it? Good.

journey to dementia

Some movies cannot abide without explosions. Recent example; Mission Impossible 3. Just no fun at all, man. They should have thought about adding a scene where secondary character Maggie Q is having sex and gets blown up in the middle of it. So you’ve got your nudity, sex, an explosion, and unnecessary violence all rolled into one three-minute scene. Shit, that could very well be the entire movie. Start to Finish. As far as I’m concerned, the basic groundwork for Monster’s Ball was the sex scene with Halle Berry. As expected, self-execution deserves Oscar recognition. And that gives the impression of being.

I happen to be keen on movies in case you didn’t know. It’s actually one of my most dominate leisure pursuits and out of the volume and complexity of films available today, it devastates me that this trend of basically… shit, remains and will, for the foreseeable future remain… shit. At root, the problem appears to be a plurality of views. Doctrine, tactics in marketing, all this naturally leads to the question- Is there a better way around all this? Sometimes I really do happen to think so and I firmly believe in an alternative position for myself in writing/directing so I could show the emerging need for content driven material set for a world that is without a sense closure (relation, what have you) between the gaps of life chances and experiences. Ideally, no matter what or how hysterical your dream may be, with precision and detail, who knows how far you can go in achieving your vision. Just whisper the question to yourself once in awhile, tell yourself the reasons, and tell yourself the reply. Positive developments are far more complacent when answered by you than anyone else’s argument or concurrence.

Have you been doing your garbage picking lately? All of this conjecture, plain and simple as in waves. The form straightens as it hitch-hikes through the air to finally bounce back a surface and ripple, therefore dissipate into a chaos of misinformation. Therein lays the beauty of fiction. Fiction allows one to say and believe whatever they want and there's nothing you can do about it, cabbage heads. Hell, the Christian Coalition does it to you guys every ten minutes.

I envision making a truck load of money in one night at the MGM Grand having thought of the idea of World Scientists v.s. The Christian Coalition. Now that would be fight to the death worth watching. Knowing my luck they'd just stand on either side of the ring yelling at each other. You never know. Some Chaos Math genius might try to bite an ear off to prove a point. That point being 'an ear for an ear', I would suspect.

The point of all this is that you never can tell what's out there in all that darkness. Some extremely unromantic figure in a dark alley way that represents all the badness of the world. 'For the love of god, don't go down there!' they say. So everyone does. It's just the way the game is played. Stupidity's been running a boot camp outside of town for quite sometime now. There's an army of mall-rats with their shit eating grins turned upside-down. Way, way upside-down. It should come as no surprise to you that you yourself might be a graduate of that rotten academy.

Maybe it is the perfect time to break the news. With the Da Vinci Code film hitting theatres on May 19, Christians are organizing violent protest marches, firebombing theatres, demanding that the UN introduce and enforce anti-blasphemy laws and have forced Ron Howard and Dan Brown into hiding. But seriously folks, Area churches are preparing to counter unorthodox claims about Jesus Christ in the movie "The Da Vinci Code," which opens in theaters later this month.

"The Da Vinci Code' kind of gave a focus that there's a lot [of misinformation] about Jesus Christ and Christianity out there, and perhaps it's time to rebut it," said Monsignor Francis J. Maniscalco, a spokesman for the District-based U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. "If people see [the movie], they should go prepared." -- read more

Over the next few weeks, keep an eye out for many of the same people who made excuses for the Muslim anti-Danish demonstrators to sneer about American Christians' "intolerance" and attempts at "censorship".

affinity for destruction

Personally speaking, I have been unflattering as of late; in the interest of science of course, and as a matter of historical record. How much of an asshole can you be?

Do you know? Or don’t you?

I say, “Where are the bitches at?” How is that for attraction and making sugar of a scene? So I figure it’s time I got back. For my first step I’m making a minor dramatic revision in prose, I'll excise weak or superfluous passages as such when sure that excision would improve bolstering this text in spite of everything futile enough as blowing away fumes of poisonous gas.

Obviously I’ve gotten ahead of myself; virtual animosity allows you to get away with a lot of things, so one may think. With references to bitches, I must apologize, in actuality I’m trying to say something else yet ultimately what I really meant came and without conduct. As noticed post-modern narrative is not my “bag”. My slang may not be current and English may not be my strong suit. If you ever happen to encounter my native tongue, you’ll come across Gibberish. Regardless of how crazy and/or stupid I am, I’ll waste my breath along with your IQ.

my head in dirty oil

A thoughtful and provocative quote from George Orwell – “The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them.”


First of all, I don’t usually do this but I would like to take this opportunity to talk about a personal pet peeve of mine - email abuse. Email abuse or dare I call it spam comes more from people I know than outside sources or at least it seems that way. I'm sure you know what I mean if you are shaking your head in agreement at this point. If you aren't shaking your head in concurrence then you are probably one of the guilty ones.

Do you ever get odd emails and wonder how they got your email address? Never been to the porn site and yet get porn emails? Do you get the viagra emails? Or any medication emails? Home mortgage emails? If so, follow some of my guidelines below and it may help...

Don't forward an email and leave all the email addresses it has been sent to showing. Why you might ask? There are programs out there that real spammers use to grab email addresses. When you forward (or even reply) with all the addresses showing you just gave spammers the opportunity to get all those email addresses. Imagine if the email went out to 10 people who sent it on to another 10 people, before you know it, there's my personal email address and yours vulnerable again and again.

Another thing; don’t send every joke to everybody. I, for one am hard on humour and something you’ve just pulled out from a box of cracker jacks just doesn’t cut it these days. Some people seem compelled to send every joke they get to every person in their address book. Don't waste my time only sending me what you think I might be interested in. If I miss out on a joke I'm sure I will live to see another day.

How about this; don't forward emails and consider that keeping in touch. A lot of people happen to think that keeping in touch is forwarding an email. No, it's not. Once in a while send that person a note and see how they are doing. And stop forwarding the "too good to be true" emails. Disney World and Pepsi will give you money to forward this to all your friends, Microsoft and AOL will send you money or little doodads, send this to everybody in your address book and you will have good luck,...you get the idea. Spammers love this because these things make their way around the Internet quickly.

I received the following in the mail today, aside from nameless deciding to roll out my e-mail address and I having to acknowledge there should be more security offered guards against spam adverts and possible viruses while mitigating the dangers of these zero-day exploits, the ludicrous title had me up the wall. GAS WAR - an idea that WILL work. The first thing I remember saying to myself was, you have got to be kidding me.

GAS WAR -- Join the resistance!!!! I hear we are going to hit close to $1.50 per litre by next summer and it might go higher!! Want gasoline prices to come down? We need to take some intelligent, united action. Phillip Hollsworth offered this good idea.

This makes much more sense than the "don't buy gas on a certain day" campaign that was going around last April or May! The oil companies just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue to "hurt" ourselves by refusing to buy gas. It was more of an inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them.

BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can really work. Please read on and join with us! By now you're probably thinking gasoline priced at about $.80 is super cheap. Me too! It is currently $1.08 for regular unleaded in my town. Now that the oil companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to think that the cost of a liter of gas is CHEAP at $.90 - $1.00, we need to take aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the marketplace..... not sellers. With the price of gasoline going up more each day, we consumers need to take action. The only way we are going to see the price of gas come down is if we hit someone in the pocketbook by not purchasing their gas! And, we can do that WITHOUT hurting ourselves. How? Since we all rely on our cars, we can't just stop buying gas. But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all act together to force a price war.

HERE'S THE IDEA:

For the rest of this year, DON'T purchase ANY gasoline from the two biggest companies , PETRO CANADA and ESSO. If they are not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their prices. If they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to follow suit. But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Exxon and Mobil gas buyers. It's really simple to do! Now, don't wimp out at this point....

Again, all you have to do is send this to 10 people. That's all. (If you don't understand how we can reach 300 million,all you have to do is send this to 10 people.... I'm a mathematician, so trust me on this one.)

How long would all that take? If each of us sends this e-mail out to ten more people within one day of receipt, all 300 MILLION people could conceivably be contacted within the next 8 days!!!

I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you? Acting together we can make a difference. If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on. I suggest that we not buy from Petro Canada/Esso until they lower their prices to the $0.60 range and keep the man down!

Do I sense fantastic logic? If this even happens to work, it will only prove there are a lot of veracious intellectually challenged people out there that make up this worlds key demographic.

If you're not a fan of spam, I suggest seeking further information on ways to fight back by visiting the following website, titled Death to Spam. Why visit? Because spam related activites are highly more questionable than you may happen to think.


I’m not sure if you have come across this, but there was this group of kind, cheerful characters who once lived in harmony with nature. Then one day and from there on their idyllic surroundings were threatened by these garbage-strewing characters anchored offshore from their home. That's right! The Smoggies! And without becoming too comparable, the three shit disturbers, in reality are the the most bellicose of foreign policy initiatives in history that pursue intimately with the petroleum industry. So what have these Saturday morning cartoons taught me? There is a horrific cost to our hypocrisy.

Beneath it all, our land is all in private hands, much of it foreign-owned, and has already been destroyed. Canada's near to being one of the #1 sources of air pollution, this problem among plenty others basically makes Canada’s Kyoto commitments unreachable.

Canada is second only to Saudi Arabia in global oil wealth. Granted, the majority of it is Bitumen, not oil. This leads most to wonder why it costs $75 dollars to fill a car up with gas today. Reliant as we are, if this is our strategy for helping it is working brilliantly. Unfortunately, I’m not in the oil business like the Bush family so much like anyone else, one way or the other we’re all pretty much screwed by these rising fuel prices. Better yet, why aren’t the majority of next year’s domestic automobile releases hybrid? Why are there only a handful of alternatives out there when gas is over a dollar a litre at the pump?

Using your computer? It needs oil, believe it or not. So doe’s agriculture, major industry, recycling, medicine - the list is endless. So is it just an automobile problem as said in this outrageous spam mail? Or is it an oil problem?

And how should the world view those who claim to have a seemingly endless supply of oil, when they rig their own oil fields and refineries with high explosives in the event that the Monarchy is threatened? As possibly prophetic? If the estimates produced massively contradict the claims of vast reserve left, then perhaps we’re a lot closer to Mad Max than you think.

Take into consideration that oil is a tightly controlled and regulated resource that is primarily traded at two world exchanges, both of which are steeped in the US dollar. You must also realize that we are so utterly dependant on oil that the loss of automobile use is actually the least of our concerns. That the production of food, and its dependence on oil, is a far greater problem that could lead to very real and terrible occurrences in the not so distant future.

I suppose then we might have another laugh at the idea of waging against our leaders in the oil industry. Being able to control the world’s water supply may just be a lot easier for a country that practices pre-emptive and unilateralist military policies, and god knows if we drink it or use it for other purposes we’ll all be hypocrites by then.

after all you are only human

In case you didn't know, I happen to think best when in the rain. Plenty of times erosion has got the better half of me.

As I’m really glad to see you’re sharing your intuitive sense. You and I both realize, everything is not the same as on the big screen. So remember that.

As you may know, there is a war going on and I’m not talking about the war on Iraq, I’m talking about a war that is being fought amongst men and women about something that no one can rightly recall. Like these people you sometimes happen to share the convenience of your time, they’re prone to squabbling, it doesn’t come as that big of a surprise. Doesn’t it?

The way I tell it, it’s as if humans have been looking to do away with themselves for a long time because to be quite frank… we’re tired… of everything… if not mostly (pardon my French) the bullshit.

We’re too disenfranchised with ourselves to do away with anything but. So we blow ourselves and each other up. Sometimes literally. We set upon the world, year after year, a terrible shaking. A shaking of the land and the trees and the oceans. And, after years of drawing lines and daring ourselves and each other to cross them, we finally set about doing something…

…inventing clouds that could choke the air out of our lungs.

One day there will be a choking so great that none of us, not one, will survive. In the future, the mole people, them or the bug men will tell it best being that we humans were, at one point, the best of friends. How the clouds did not kill them would be anyone’s guess.

As for me, I understand where you’re coming from. Pardon my mentioning, I was born in the year of the rat, but it comes as no coincidence that I figure I am in fact much like a rat itself. Reviled as little more than a bottom-dwelling disease carrier to the most ignorant of creatures. I remember running away from them to my place of abode beneath the shade of a tree. ‘When pigs grow wings’, I said to myself. I the rat will one day spin a cocoon like the butterflies, I imagined. That I will sleep in it and emerge transformed.

In my far younger days, I would watch the caterpillars climb high atop the trees into their very own cocoon in the spring and then wait until they came back with better names. I would marvel at the perfection of their lives, being that they were all given second chances. That they were born again with wings enough to carry them far off into the possibilities of a greater world. But I’m only a rat. A rat that lived with a great many other rats. ‘When pigs grow wings I will fly away’, I told myself. Because if pigs could fly then surely they'd allow I, the rat.

To think up something to say today I’m surprised enough to say as it were in the very least. I’m glad you find this even something worth your time if you have happened to have read up until here. There’s a lot of fodder in the world. It rarely comes up with anything beyond grunts of yes and no and excitability. But once in a while one might think up something to say.

As demonstrated by many, a hive mind within itself. The world is drowning in courageous inner monologues of those that march to their own drummers and all that. But generally things in this world are quiet. Mistakes are made all round, leaving the majority of us bitter and unsafe except within the bosoms of our own discontent. For a rat such as myself, I sometimes figure it’s best and most adhering to see the world as the mistake of those who took a good idea and made it bad. The fact that it’s hard to realize that the idea itself was bad to begin with isn’t my fault. It’s nobody’s fault when it comes right down to it. It’s just one of those things that you find yourself unable to remember with any clarity. The end of the world? It just happens.

where there is no vision

Can’t sleep. I must have residues on my brain. Last night I had the wild shrieking of nightmares yet again. The nightmares seem near-infinite in detail that it must be what makes my world-weary. Not so much to do from the dead cold of the night and the scorching weather in the day but rather the tiredness and numbness.

I happen to miss the unrelieved grey days.

I could barely move when my eyes had blemished. “Use them” I told myself while attempting to polish the unrequited rattle of chain undertakings. Struggling mercilessly against a drain of vision this unshaven face turned into a relic in dead-lock. Subsequent incoherent intermissions are not uncommon when you find yourself in a tense, hurried, and hostile environment. Much like rapport of carnal commerce this day and age. In guilty silence without my two eyes, I penetrated deeper into my sub-conscious. The place you're told to stay clear of, the place of intimate affairs.


I've been quite sick over the past few days. In a state of utter disarray, in my exploring of this pattern, unbroken, and continuing, I’m sorry to say I’m a bit lost as of late. Life it seems is a whole lot of unmotivated steps. I call them unmotivated steps because they lead no where but to my own sort of quarantine. It’s a motto that tends to violate me while I’m rushing to meditate in my ardent journal. Without trying to thoroughly disintegrate rightly in the given situation; If I were to imagine myself as a building I would certainly be condemned. Perhaps with a doddering hypochondriac inside.