summer came and went. and now it's time for the year of twice as much.
an iconic time to commit to these things considering it's the year of the golden eel. much aligns but ends are loose and a leetle flaky.
philip zimbardo dated a graduate student in the 1970's and she protested to his dark arrangements.
templeton, iowa came for a visit to the motel bar some time back and i didn't bail a friend out of jail.
a little lamb lost her pearls, but i've recently found mine.
he was mistaken for someone wearing a jean jacket.
my mother is cured (for now).
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
ah bon!
i think i would fit in real nice in 1971. i talk to my flowers, especially the fuchsia daisies. and i should probably be in meeeami wearing neon colors and listening to reggaeton. your future changes when you adopt a new scent. chanel (madmoiselle) is it for summer.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
a guy, a girl & a goat
i'm going to try something new my friends.
take a page out of old quinten's book.
alejandro! i forgot about you.
this weekend, either the world ends or i find a north american goat to milk.
#gulp.
god bless all the real ones. come my way - you'll know me when you see me.
take a page out of old quinten's book.
alejandro! i forgot about you.
this weekend, either the world ends or i find a north american goat to milk.
#gulp.
god bless all the real ones. come my way - you'll know me when you see me.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
whatareyou
the eerieness is not in the content i feel; rather the time-space in which it occurs. i feel like i've been here before - in a very uncanny way. i was just here - and now i'm retelling the memory. i am the narrator and i hear my own voice; the images are slowly happening before me, at once. however, something is different. hence the uncanny. every other detail is constant and you wonder how the removal of one variable from all moments failed to incite, something! everyone truman show acted like nothing had changed. but she did notice something, yes! yes....
she did!
how could she not?
it was the same glazed look from His eyes. even He couldn't hide this fact. the rest of the universe couldn't keep that dirty secret. didn't want to either.
this song is about a guy with an alcoholic dad and a weepy mama. i would believe it. in my heart of hearts. how can a human who is nervous, with fluttery butterflies in his stomach and dreams in his heart and awareness and mindfulness and the ability and opportunity to love and and and fall away from this bonding? the banter is the best part[y]. i am wary of people who like it, but i am even more wary of the squirrel who does not prepare for winter. while the other furry beings furrow and dig and work and sweat i ask; what does he know? and more importantly who told him?
the truth is: i know i am supposed to find love very soon. the gypsy from la ciotat was authentic. sometimes i think cynthia plays her eyes. because her energy is as strong.
for my own sake, i need to end this on positive note. so i will say two more things.
negative: rly a SR!!?
positive: u got 2 feel bad 2 know good.
a guatemalan girl of 23 is more wise than i ever hope to be. love is blind, but you don't need to see in order to navigate the relevant wavelengths people. music, brains, and touch. and respect. but that's obvious. that's love. onward!
she did!
how could she not?
it was the same glazed look from His eyes. even He couldn't hide this fact. the rest of the universe couldn't keep that dirty secret. didn't want to either.
this song is about a guy with an alcoholic dad and a weepy mama. i would believe it. in my heart of hearts. how can a human who is nervous, with fluttery butterflies in his stomach and dreams in his heart and awareness and mindfulness and the ability and opportunity to love and and and fall away from this bonding? the banter is the best part[y]. i am wary of people who like it, but i am even more wary of the squirrel who does not prepare for winter. while the other furry beings furrow and dig and work and sweat i ask; what does he know? and more importantly who told him?
the truth is: i know i am supposed to find love very soon. the gypsy from la ciotat was authentic. sometimes i think cynthia plays her eyes. because her energy is as strong.
for my own sake, i need to end this on positive note. so i will say two more things.
negative: rly a SR!!?
positive: u got 2 feel bad 2 know good.
a guatemalan girl of 23 is more wise than i ever hope to be. love is blind, but you don't need to see in order to navigate the relevant wavelengths people. music, brains, and touch. and respect. but that's obvious. that's love. onward!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
wilkommen auf den USA!
the title tells all.
today, i met elliott (he wore a suit). i also met a young dreamer slash former sandwich maker by the name of d'angelo. he wanted to save the children and asked all the right questions: do you like hip-hop? what is your passion? do you like to kick it? yet, it was really elliott who startled me.
then i met dominique from atlanta & a pretty girl in love. then i thought about love and what people do for love. but mostly i just asked why. in her case, she bought a fancy new dress & came to our parts to find the perfect footwear. she said the occasion was "trying to get my boyfriend back." you could tell she had been crying.
brother. i hope she gets what she needs. not what she wants. it's basically never the same.
oh and finally - if not most importantly, i welcomed two swiss-german teens to the USA.
today, i met elliott (he wore a suit). i also met a young dreamer slash former sandwich maker by the name of d'angelo. he wanted to save the children and asked all the right questions: do you like hip-hop? what is your passion? do you like to kick it? yet, it was really elliott who startled me.
then i met dominique from atlanta & a pretty girl in love. then i thought about love and what people do for love. but mostly i just asked why. in her case, she bought a fancy new dress & came to our parts to find the perfect footwear. she said the occasion was "trying to get my boyfriend back." you could tell she had been crying.
brother. i hope she gets what she needs. not what she wants. it's basically never the same.
oh and finally - if not most importantly, i welcomed two swiss-german teens to the USA.
Monday, May 9, 2011
a white lock & a black key
the most appealing are the most elusive but it's only so they can preserve their essence. let's start with that for today. i will try not to lose you by describing all that jumps from node to axon. axon to node. only i can, and need to understand usually. but - this subject is too important; it applies to all of us. so i have to actually use words and embrace precision.
the yogurt doesn't need the fridge very much - especially if we ate it right away. miss richardson told me that.
people come and people go. as long as you understand 6 for this cycle then we can spin. a little lurid.
I KNOW WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR. I AM SEARCHING FOR THE UNCANNY. i heard somewhere that it's the least researched human emotion, experience, whatever. here's what they have gathered:
"because the uncanny is familiar, yet strange, it often creates cognitive dissonance within the experiencing subject due to the paradoxical nature of being attracted to, yet repulsed by an object at the same time. this cognitive dissonance often leads to an outright rejection of the object, as one would rather reject than rationalize."
maybe in 5 months. i'll find myself somewhere not too far away with someone who makes me feel a little like this. and in reality, the feeling i like is not being with any ONE in particular. but, instead, the fiendish feeling. that eerie experience of knowing i was here before and not having any idea where you went.
if it's spinning you desire then realize you can't spin forever people (you'll tip over). just a little while. ID.
the yogurt doesn't need the fridge very much - especially if we ate it right away. miss richardson told me that.
people come and people go. as long as you understand 6 for this cycle then we can spin. a little lurid.
I KNOW WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR. I AM SEARCHING FOR THE UNCANNY. i heard somewhere that it's the least researched human emotion, experience, whatever. here's what they have gathered:
"because the uncanny is familiar, yet strange, it often creates cognitive dissonance within the experiencing subject due to the paradoxical nature of being attracted to, yet repulsed by an object at the same time. this cognitive dissonance often leads to an outright rejection of the object, as one would rather reject than rationalize."
maybe in 5 months. i'll find myself somewhere not too far away with someone who makes me feel a little like this. and in reality, the feeling i like is not being with any ONE in particular. but, instead, the fiendish feeling. that eerie experience of knowing i was here before and not having any idea where you went.
if it's spinning you desire then realize you can't spin forever people (you'll tip over). just a little while. ID.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
windblown fcp remix
somewhere, a princess is getting married. but really who cares? my friend adam tells me that a good wedding would take place 10 years post union. he is on the side of logic after all. after 10 years, you have already proven to the universe that you aren't kidding. tennis like spheres have settled in my throat. a medicine (woah)man will inspect the globules. i am on a fast. lara bars, lara bars. i can almost do a pull-up. and when i can, i think that my aura and my chakras will shift towards something much more alluring. strength attracts strength.
i have ditched 80s time travel tonight in favor of hardcorepostpunkmetalscreamoemocore. from time to time, i need to catch up on these things, in order to solidify them and know that they are real. i think the problem with adults is that they forget to solidify! basically, they lose the ability to travel back because they haven't activated and EXERCISED the memories along the way. i fully expect to avoid this. invoking! grilled cheese stand. i know that was real. because of all the details. i would descend the steps of 113 1/2 college street apt A. (yes i realize that a 1/2 in my address leans more in favor of NOT REAL but this is simply overrided by the fact that it's a good detail, absurd, but real). i would order a double decker with swiss and hot sauce. then i would walk into the tobacco bowl and purchase one newport 100 full flavor. yes, a single. oh, and an izze of some sort. i never learned the name of the tallish blondish chain smoker who sold me those smokey treats (invoking! kelly t). then i would sit outside. on a bench. and go to fucking town. sometimes i would see local hooligans (JM or NM or MB or or or) engaging in global shenanigans.
anyway, presently, i am catching up on some allegiance, minor threat, circle takes the square, FUGAZI, have heart, and in my eyes, all at once. overwhelming - yes. but i prefer it. to be honest, if 90s time travel were on the agenda - it'd be a different story really. it's time to ditch the 80s parties people. let's be real. we don't remember the 80s. good god!
i have ditched 80s time travel tonight in favor of hardcorepostpunkmetalscreamoemocore. from time to time, i need to catch up on these things, in order to solidify them and know that they are real. i think the problem with adults is that they forget to solidify! basically, they lose the ability to travel back because they haven't activated and EXERCISED the memories along the way. i fully expect to avoid this. invoking! grilled cheese stand. i know that was real. because of all the details. i would descend the steps of 113 1/2 college street apt A. (yes i realize that a 1/2 in my address leans more in favor of NOT REAL but this is simply overrided by the fact that it's a good detail, absurd, but real). i would order a double decker with swiss and hot sauce. then i would walk into the tobacco bowl and purchase one newport 100 full flavor. yes, a single. oh, and an izze of some sort. i never learned the name of the tallish blondish chain smoker who sold me those smokey treats (invoking! kelly t). then i would sit outside. on a bench. and go to fucking town. sometimes i would see local hooligans (JM or NM or MB or or or) engaging in global shenanigans.
anyway, presently, i am catching up on some allegiance, minor threat, circle takes the square, FUGAZI, have heart, and in my eyes, all at once. overwhelming - yes. but i prefer it. to be honest, if 90s time travel were on the agenda - it'd be a different story really. it's time to ditch the 80s parties people. let's be real. we don't remember the 80s. good god!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
how long do you mean to be content?
i have been full of ideas lately. juicy and energizing and inspiring. ideas which lift and stretch and toil and jump and submit.
and and and.
a few weeks ago, deel and i entertained the only haunting question: how long do you mean to be content? doppelgangers!
arabic themes suggest that encountering one is insouciant at best. you are to say "she is one of 40!" a nonoccurrence. unindicative of any omen and not more a feat than pomegranates in a rural summer souk. no more interesting than puffed dry lips after a saliferous pumpkin seed feast. in fact, the implication is that the only possibly peculiar affair is one where you encounter numerous doppelgangers. at once! otherwise, don't speak. you are, after all, noticing something expected and planned. ordained even.
everyone else disagrees. the ancient greeks. the anglo-saxons. the mayans. even the hindus, who are known to rebel in such instances.
for what it's worth, the inquiry, however it made me shudder, at the same time activated my right brain. which then, after a momentary consultation with its connections on the other side, decided: i intend to be content so long as i am here. and my essence for 40 days thereafter. and i am not brave. but i know that the key here is 40. 40 days. 40 nights. 40; sacrosanct and strong. how could any evil twin outsmart god's extension, the number 40!
and and and.
a few weeks ago, deel and i entertained the only haunting question: how long do you mean to be content? doppelgangers!
arabic themes suggest that encountering one is insouciant at best. you are to say "she is one of 40!" a nonoccurrence. unindicative of any omen and not more a feat than pomegranates in a rural summer souk. no more interesting than puffed dry lips after a saliferous pumpkin seed feast. in fact, the implication is that the only possibly peculiar affair is one where you encounter numerous doppelgangers. at once! otherwise, don't speak. you are, after all, noticing something expected and planned. ordained even.
everyone else disagrees. the ancient greeks. the anglo-saxons. the mayans. even the hindus, who are known to rebel in such instances.
for what it's worth, the inquiry, however it made me shudder, at the same time activated my right brain. which then, after a momentary consultation with its connections on the other side, decided: i intend to be content so long as i am here. and my essence for 40 days thereafter. and i am not brave. but i know that the key here is 40. 40 days. 40 nights. 40; sacrosanct and strong. how could any evil twin outsmart god's extension, the number 40!
when it rains, monsoon!
can someone explain to me why it is that sometimes when we're having the most fun we stop to lash out - say something totally rash and then immediately beg to take it back? i think it's a human thing. other humans i know have complained of this same perspective vomit. words are only words and i don't care too much for them. selon moi, the content is mostly irrelevant and it's the sounds that comfort because the silence is unnerving. music is better than words. even better than music is touch. and then brains. and if you have music, touch and brains. then my dears you have stumbled upon heaven.
the kind on earth at least. i can't speak so confidently about the extraterrestrial type. my attempts to project and explore have been just that. they say you can travel across time too. i am still trying to get the space part down. i wonder if it will be easier with a mutual human attempt. maybe it will be a sort of peacocking - to the universe. look at us! we need you leaders of projection!
he gave me a jade-ish, rigid, coin-sized piece; told me it came from the stars and the space. it is a great responsibility, you know, to be in possession of this ethereal matter. i was careful to hold it the right way in my palm (but i could only guess because it came alone, without modern instructions). consciously, i tried to carry it with respect for the divine and such. he gave little feedback. as if i was just supposed to know. i am not so sure what will come of it, but so long as i have it, i intend to cradle it like the majestic and fully energetic child that it is.
all i can tell YOU is this my beloved readers; there is a positive correlation between primality (not the numerical type) and the extent to which my soul embraces the pins, needles and chills. that is why there is some guilt in laying down. but in standing and feeling the solid support of the soil, i just close my eyes and channel my inner cavewoman.
the kind on earth at least. i can't speak so confidently about the extraterrestrial type. my attempts to project and explore have been just that. they say you can travel across time too. i am still trying to get the space part down. i wonder if it will be easier with a mutual human attempt. maybe it will be a sort of peacocking - to the universe. look at us! we need you leaders of projection!
he gave me a jade-ish, rigid, coin-sized piece; told me it came from the stars and the space. it is a great responsibility, you know, to be in possession of this ethereal matter. i was careful to hold it the right way in my palm (but i could only guess because it came alone, without modern instructions). consciously, i tried to carry it with respect for the divine and such. he gave little feedback. as if i was just supposed to know. i am not so sure what will come of it, but so long as i have it, i intend to cradle it like the majestic and fully energetic child that it is.
all i can tell YOU is this my beloved readers; there is a positive correlation between primality (not the numerical type) and the extent to which my soul embraces the pins, needles and chills. that is why there is some guilt in laying down. but in standing and feeling the solid support of the soil, i just close my eyes and channel my inner cavewoman.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
!magic tri(cks) & sma(cks)
i can't stop thinking about smacks.
and magic.
any day now i will discover that he is a shapeshifter, like sam merlotte or half fairy like sookie or part werewolf or : a vamp. really, just a vamp. but if my suspicions are true, then it's none of the above and in actuality, it's something much more powerful and weird.
smacks smacks.
this entry too demands audio. but you can play the smiths or the cure and it would not even matter.
i need to learn more about healing people (that is, people who heal and NOT the act of healing), doppelgangers and the moon. these are my specialties and these will serve to entice.
P.S. deel (now more medical than ever before) is wise and missed. so this is what life is like when i am not routinely awakened by the sounds of a stumbl-y spanish geetar & the sight of a leetle face and the biggest eyes. the irises would roll and in rolling she found the perfect place to sigh a big, "EEEEEEEUUULL!" (intonation dare not attempted by these words but you get the idea).
actuellement (which actually does not mean actually) things are a little crazy and busy, yet basically lazy and mostly smiley. estelle, lala, eel, lara, and now shelly; well we are just rebelling sort of. but i figure since farmers & cattle are making a run for it, i am not sure how much time we have left anyway.
P.P.S. old technicolor fibers snapped last week. my wrist is bare & burned (a separate occurrence involving a steamer and jan's suit). an old brazilian woman in la ciotat, france looked up at the very instant and shook her head. she smiled across the ocean, towards my way. she was right about everything.
to sum up. what we have here is a mild, spastic, and (a)cute case of MPD. my psych brain is verrrrry happy and churny like the butter and baguette that entered my body last night. deel said life has legs and it's running. i don't really care where it is going or where it came from. i just want to know my leaping and limber earth: are you taking care of your feet? earth is a mother and old, wrinkled babylonian men used to postulate that heaven lies under the soles of our mothers. this of course was before modern religions and ideologies convinced us otherwise.
be good to your earth. be good to your mother.
a question for you readers. if heaven IS below us, why do we long for what is above us? why do our energies and our goals look towards the sky? what about the soil that holds us! humans! we have been living upside down & backwards and inside out. that of course, would explain the magic.
and magic.
any day now i will discover that he is a shapeshifter, like sam merlotte or half fairy like sookie or part werewolf or : a vamp. really, just a vamp. but if my suspicions are true, then it's none of the above and in actuality, it's something much more powerful and weird.
smacks smacks.
this entry too demands audio. but you can play the smiths or the cure and it would not even matter.
i need to learn more about healing people (that is, people who heal and NOT the act of healing), doppelgangers and the moon. these are my specialties and these will serve to entice.
P.S. deel (now more medical than ever before) is wise and missed. so this is what life is like when i am not routinely awakened by the sounds of a stumbl-y spanish geetar & the sight of a leetle face and the biggest eyes. the irises would roll and in rolling she found the perfect place to sigh a big, "EEEEEEEUUULL!" (intonation dare not attempted by these words but you get the idea).
actuellement (which actually does not mean actually) things are a little crazy and busy, yet basically lazy and mostly smiley. estelle, lala, eel, lara, and now shelly; well we are just rebelling sort of. but i figure since farmers & cattle are making a run for it, i am not sure how much time we have left anyway.
P.P.S. old technicolor fibers snapped last week. my wrist is bare & burned (a separate occurrence involving a steamer and jan's suit). an old brazilian woman in la ciotat, france looked up at the very instant and shook her head. she smiled across the ocean, towards my way. she was right about everything.
to sum up. what we have here is a mild, spastic, and (a)cute case of MPD. my psych brain is verrrrry happy and churny like the butter and baguette that entered my body last night. deel said life has legs and it's running. i don't really care where it is going or where it came from. i just want to know my leaping and limber earth: are you taking care of your feet? earth is a mother and old, wrinkled babylonian men used to postulate that heaven lies under the soles of our mothers. this of course was before modern religions and ideologies convinced us otherwise.
be good to your earth. be good to your mother.
a question for you readers. if heaven IS below us, why do we long for what is above us? why do our energies and our goals look towards the sky? what about the soil that holds us! humans! we have been living upside down & backwards and inside out. that of course, would explain the magic.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
spring&RENEWAL
this entry demands audio.
i'm smiling as i write this.
in relationships & the universe, we should reward good behavior. too often, it goes unnoticed or is mislabeled and this happens to real people. so if only for the rest of womankind, i should....
it smells more like 2005 now than it did then. febreze spring & renewal is to blame. 806A used to smell like that. help, i'm alive. smells are serious things.
must practice my yoga more. the bikram glow is haunting & the energy buzzes & buzzes & does all sorts of things to wavelengths in need of tuning.
the other night i dreamt i had a daughter. it was very emotional. i gave birth and she was 3 years old (later on, i'll explain why that's the ideal age for most magical things). it's maybe also worth mentioning that she looked just like me when i was 3. her name was mayar obviously. because i've already decided that.
my mama & baba told me that in middle eastern folklore, dreaming about a daughter is good. it means good fortune and luck. boys are bad signs. i'm a sucker for omens. always have been.
i have never dreamt about being a mother. in real life or dream life. i will let you know if i get lucky this week.
always always give a proper handshake people.
i'm smiling as i write this.
in relationships & the universe, we should reward good behavior. too often, it goes unnoticed or is mislabeled and this happens to real people. so if only for the rest of womankind, i should....
it smells more like 2005 now than it did then. febreze spring & renewal is to blame. 806A used to smell like that. help, i'm alive. smells are serious things.
must practice my yoga more. the bikram glow is haunting & the energy buzzes & buzzes & does all sorts of things to wavelengths in need of tuning.
the other night i dreamt i had a daughter. it was very emotional. i gave birth and she was 3 years old (later on, i'll explain why that's the ideal age for most magical things). it's maybe also worth mentioning that she looked just like me when i was 3. her name was mayar obviously. because i've already decided that.
my mama & baba told me that in middle eastern folklore, dreaming about a daughter is good. it means good fortune and luck. boys are bad signs. i'm a sucker for omens. always have been.
i have never dreamt about being a mother. in real life or dream life. i will let you know if i get lucky this week.
always always give a proper handshake people.
Monday, April 4, 2011
BULL shit.
so i told him: you're not good. you're not lucky. you're straight up blessed.
fuck, i just quoted nicki minaj and i didn't even realize it.
must: get better at negging.
i participate in a series of unrelated extreme experiential events ranging from deeply investing in fitness to deeply binging on life. on the one hand, deeply invested in certain values and ideas and on the other hand, exhibiting a total lack of commitment to people, places, and things.
question: is the moderate life one of alternating extremes or is it the perpetually calm space? what's the big idea about being moderate anyway.
i'm taking a break from height. i'm afraid that they'll get so tall i won't be able to see their heads anymore. although, on second thought that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
black & yellow; out of my brain now!
fuck, i just quoted nicki minaj and i didn't even realize it.
must: get better at negging.
i participate in a series of unrelated extreme experiential events ranging from deeply investing in fitness to deeply binging on life. on the one hand, deeply invested in certain values and ideas and on the other hand, exhibiting a total lack of commitment to people, places, and things.
question: is the moderate life one of alternating extremes or is it the perpetually calm space? what's the big idea about being moderate anyway.
i'm taking a break from height. i'm afraid that they'll get so tall i won't be able to see their heads anymore. although, on second thought that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
black & yellow; out of my brain now!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
asixminuteegg
they say the perfect poached egg can be acheived in six minutes. or is it a hard boiled egg?
eggs are primal people. we're all just a bunch of walking eggs. if you eat an egg, then you are a little bit of a cannibal.
several weeks ago, we ate dinner with strangers. i wish strangers were better friends because it was the most fun.
eggs are primal people. we're all just a bunch of walking eggs. if you eat an egg, then you are a little bit of a cannibal.
several weeks ago, we ate dinner with strangers. i wish strangers were better friends because it was the most fun.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
rastalove.
and she didn't know how
to tell him
she was in love with a rastaman...
i don't belong in this time or space. there is something really primal about losing all of your inhibitions and acting on pure impulse and unaltered instinct. the early cavemen did not have the elixirs that we have today but i would bet they were burning all sorts of herb, tryna change their perceptions, perspectives, and ideas. i can respect that.
i have so many dreams for this world.
the elders in this society get in the way. a realist and an idealist and a pessimist all at once, i am certain that the older i get, the less we understand each other. i remember being 3 and thinking they were divine.
they have forgotten that we are one blood. one love. one world. one life. they are too busy with the modern way. resumes. people on paper. two dimensional paper people and not the physical people who sleep and touch and look into you. sometimes i wonder where i even came from.
in certain instances, i feel completely at peace. the last time this happened i was looking into my magic smoke mirror and imagining the olive trees and the sun. [salutations]. it mostly happens after dark. if i'm lucky it happens during standing bow pose.
i like my new bangs. i did however break every rule that the game ever taught me in the process of getting them and i just couldn't help it. now, i will pay for it, literally.
i have a swollen ankle and the other day i wished i could melt into the earth.
my dear readers, you have made it this far and you probably still want to know about rastalove.
so, if it's rastalove you seek, i weaseled a secret out of a healing woman once... in this story, we are at terminal 2 [o'hare airport], sitting nearby a macdo. it's a simple rule. but almost 100% of humans break it tout le temps. snap. crackle. pop. broken. are you ready?
she said, "even pretty lady like you need help findin' true rastalove. the trick is simple. never introduce yourself by any of your given names. rastaman is a mysteryman." okay lady. apparently, this includes, first, middle, last, and catholic names, and chinese names, and and and.
if you must know why (i needed to know why), it has to do with wavelengths. you see, the rastaman exists primarily in, say, A, travels to B in a high, C during an ideal meal, and D is how he makes love.
names and formalities, titles and resumes exist in a different spectrum. a spectrum of numbers. official and ordered. 1, 2, 42, 49282, 56, 89, 000. long story short, no wavelength overlap - no connection. no connection - no love. no love. no love. if you insist on using your 'real' name, the only place you may connect is where 0 meets O. (the universe too is faulty sometimes and miscateogrizes wavelengths, thereby resulting in baseless rastalove syndrome). but i don't recommend this. hunting for rastalove in a margin of error is inefficient people!
several weeks ago, i met a young man by the name of firecracker. they call me eel i said. he ate a lot of cookies and talked about the bulls. he was a regular dude, but he wasn't a rastaman. onward.
my golden year has kicked off to a glorious start.
happy birthday to me.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
on revolution!
"anyone can start a revolution. obedience is hard."
eeeenteresting.
tomorrow i say goodbye to 23. 24 is the year of the golden eel. i've been thinking about metamorphosis. can i be an eel for the rest of my life. what do eels turn into? this year will be about finding an answer.
eeeenteresting.
tomorrow i say goodbye to 23. 24 is the year of the golden eel. i've been thinking about metamorphosis. can i be an eel for the rest of my life. what do eels turn into? this year will be about finding an answer.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
primed
i think we could solve a lot of problems if everyone were primal. we'd also create a whole host of new problems. like what to do about cheesecake and similarly, the internet. only a referendum could solve this problem. the people would vote, a primal thing.
the vote would only pertain to the internet. we would just turn the leftover cheesecake into spa treatments and fertilizer. i anticipate the people would be pretty hesitant to abandon what has stretched their once unguaranteed 15 minutes to a definite 18.5 for all. the reset button is not immediately appealing because people mistakenly mistake all this hoo-ha for progress. (going back is, for them, digressing. imagine progressing by reverting! they laugh at the thought).
addiction is what's happening here. addiction and the possibility of 19. 19 basically irrelevant minutes of fame. the problem my friends, is that this is just like the case of refined carbs. you know how that story ends? let me remind you.
carbs make you "full" and in a very short while hungry again. and you know this whole "feeling full" thing? that's not a very primal thing. we never used to feel full because the food we ate did not make us feel anything. it was a sort of invisible fuel. it did not get in the way. now, we opt to feel from our food, probably at the expense of other feelings we could be having. i mean, it's true. you can't go around saying, "i'm so full, i'm really sad." or "i'm so full and really in love." full takes over. imagine if we never felt full or hungry. there'd be so much fucking space and time for other things, more useful things. such is a primal life.
one i know, we call him "he." is never satiated. he is a little bloated and over salted and so not in touch with his earth. he is always eating. hungry. "i'm starving" says he and i am bored out of my mind listening. he prepares a bowl of cheerios. innocent. his mother's spaghetti. love. his bowels are not regular. every god damn slice of bread does this to he. even the whole grain. especially the whole grain.
while we're on the topic: what a fucking liar she is, the whole grain loaf. she's like the stripper who says, "no really - it's a respectful gig." lies lies. incidentally, the stripper's only potential argument is a primal one. it's the oldest trade there is; blah blah. but respectful - no. let's not pretend we are what we are not. that wouldn't be very primal of us. wheat bread is still bread. i don't care if you can read, stripper. whisper: you're still a streeeper.
so my advice to you people is to stay away from both the lady of the night and the sugary molecules. they are bad for your health and we all know, if you don't have health in this world, what do you have?
if you are in the business of thinking on this rained sunday then think about this: which of these is more primal: the blues or country. think hard.
the vote would only pertain to the internet. we would just turn the leftover cheesecake into spa treatments and fertilizer. i anticipate the people would be pretty hesitant to abandon what has stretched their once unguaranteed 15 minutes to a definite 18.5 for all. the reset button is not immediately appealing because people mistakenly mistake all this hoo-ha for progress. (going back is, for them, digressing. imagine progressing by reverting! they laugh at the thought).
addiction is what's happening here. addiction and the possibility of 19. 19 basically irrelevant minutes of fame. the problem my friends, is that this is just like the case of refined carbs. you know how that story ends? let me remind you.
carbs make you "full" and in a very short while hungry again. and you know this whole "feeling full" thing? that's not a very primal thing. we never used to feel full because the food we ate did not make us feel anything. it was a sort of invisible fuel. it did not get in the way. now, we opt to feel from our food, probably at the expense of other feelings we could be having. i mean, it's true. you can't go around saying, "i'm so full, i'm really sad." or "i'm so full and really in love." full takes over. imagine if we never felt full or hungry. there'd be so much fucking space and time for other things, more useful things. such is a primal life.
one i know, we call him "he." is never satiated. he is a little bloated and over salted and so not in touch with his earth. he is always eating. hungry. "i'm starving" says he and i am bored out of my mind listening. he prepares a bowl of cheerios. innocent. his mother's spaghetti. love. his bowels are not regular. every god damn slice of bread does this to he. even the whole grain. especially the whole grain.
while we're on the topic: what a fucking liar she is, the whole grain loaf. she's like the stripper who says, "no really - it's a respectful gig." lies lies. incidentally, the stripper's only potential argument is a primal one. it's the oldest trade there is; blah blah. but respectful - no. let's not pretend we are what we are not. that wouldn't be very primal of us. wheat bread is still bread. i don't care if you can read, stripper. whisper: you're still a streeeper.
so my advice to you people is to stay away from both the lady of the night and the sugary molecules. they are bad for your health and we all know, if you don't have health in this world, what do you have?
if you are in the business of thinking on this rained sunday then think about this: which of these is more primal: the blues or country. think hard.
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