Los sonidos de la noche

2005-11-17T13:55:00.000-08:00

Finally got rid of the cumbersome IKEA bed.
It was never a "bad bed" per se, but it was just a pain in the ass to reassemble, and usually required at least two people in its construction. And since girls don't really count as "people" when it comes to lifting heavy objects, only 1.5 people were available to wrestle that wooden leviathan into submission.
I doubt it was ever intended to be slept in by more than one person. I think the broken support beam was a warning sign.

Message received, good buddy.

Have a nice time with your new family.

2005-11-04T12:42:00.000-08:00

The government makes money off people like me. Not the ordinary "income tax" sort of money-making schemes, but the "I know there's no way in hell that you would know the minute details of the DMV and how they relate to various aspects of the owning and the operation of a motor vehicle, but we're going to fine you just for the hell of it". Actually, they're attempting to fine me. It'll be a cold day in hell when I pay them the money that they want, however. Well, not without a fight. Not so much a Waco Branch Davidian sort of fight, but at least an exchange of words...an airing of grievances, if you will...in the spirit of Festivus perhaps...

The thing is, I'm more hurt by all of this really. In my entire history with working cooperatively with the Department of Motor Vehicles, I've never had a quarrel with their procedures and guidelines. Whether it's the hassle that comes along with waiting in the well-known long lines to renew a license or the brutal driving test administered by Sue Benton, I've put up with the bullshit. But this new parlor trick is just inexcusable. It just reveals even more the depths, rather shallowness, of this branch of our government. Rather, the government of perhaps the worst state in the entire Union.

It's all some paper-pushing game to these folks. Psychological torment of sorts. Sue Benton was their Weapon X back in the mid 1990s. I handled my first road test well enough to pass on my first attempt, but for some reason, she failed to pass me. On my next attempt (roughly two weeks later), I arrived again to face off with this Grendel to my Beowulf. Only this time, I had an ace up my sleeve...uh...like Gambit! And was it ever charged with explosive energy. Who would have thought that just showing up with a police officer would ensure that one was a safe driver? Not only was her demeanor more friendly, but she took me down the "easy path" rather than through the city/traffic. Instead of having to deal with left turns at seemingly major intersections, I was tackling a two-lane road (can it be considered two lanes if there is no center line?) sandwiched between cornfields and blue sky. I saw no other automobiles during this second attempt at a driver's license. I could have taken a half hour when pulling off my three-point turn (my favorite of all the driving maneuvers, I might add).

The test, in total, lasted maybe ten minutes, and that's including the parallel parking. Hell, I think I even tanked that part of the exam.

Nevertheless, I earned my license.

The lesson here isn't that "it's not what you know, it's who you know". It's that the government is all apart of this grand game. Behind the facade of "making sure the nation runs smoothly", the powers that be are really just looking to pound us, the citizens, into submission and to make money in the process, just to spend it on something as incredibly stupid as a meaninglessly long war in the desert.

Usually, I can stomach the bad (lack of universal health care, the disgusting distribution of wealth among the classes, etc.) with the good. But this time, to coin an 80's tagline, it's personal...

When the government attempts to punish the innocent using the ways of the con-artist, something has to be done.

Of course, I am just one man, and an overly polite man at that, so I'm fucked.

They've got me on my back..."like a turtle"...

Blah...

2005-10-29T03:12:00.000-07:00

Back in my late high school days, a teacher told me something that has stuck with me to this day.
He didn't necessarily "aim" the comment at me (as I believe it was directed towards one of the more popular girls in the class) but it sank in me like Jason Voorhies in Crystal Lake (Happy Spooktober!)...
He made the statement that the friends we all have now (although, "now" was back then) would most likely not be our friends in the future...hell, even the near future. He claimed that, in high school, you have, let's say, ten friends. Friends that you hang out with regularly...that you socialize with...that you seemingly trust.
As you gain age and maturity, the number of friends decreases from the ten, to around five. The years continue to pass.
That five becomes three. If you're lucky, by the time you're an adult, you have one left from that original ten.

Sure, as one carries out all of life's chores, more friends (and lovers) are made (and lost), replacing the ones that fall to the wayside, confirming the universe's harmony/balance.

If anything, that certain teacher's comment, although somewhat insignificant at the time, makes me believe that change is natural...and inevitable.

"It's evolution, baby".
Rather, social Darwinism.

2005-10-05T16:54:00.000-07:00

It seems that music and the guitar have decided to befriend me again this week.
How will my current love affair go with my tunes?
Will I get frustrated and bitter towards it/them?
Will we make "beautiful music" together?

Probably not the latter is so subjective. Plus my guitar has a cold.

2005-09-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

Life is a remarkable experience.
We humans have been on this Earth for countless ages now, and we're nowhere closer to fully understanding "life" than we were back in the days of Socrates, Plato, etc. If anything, we're not even up to their level...a devolution, if you will, in thought...understanding...really seeing what is in front of us.

Socrates knew it. And it's so simple. Life is about internal growth...improving oneself...screw material possessions ie money. Focus on the importance of good relationships, friendship, nourishing each other...becoming a true community...all of that fluff...The truth is below the shadows of existence, not right in our faces, or on the faces on our dollar bills. But I suppose most folks back then were a lot like us...unwilling to part with the desire to have multiple houses, multiple cars, a fat savings account...continue living life in total ignorance just as soon as the voice of reason is silenced.

But, being the bad ass cowboy that he was, Socrates bit the bullet and rode off into the sunset with dignity, opting to face the firing squad rather than escape and live the rest of his days in hiding. Alot like Jesus really.

Bill Hicks, during one (probably during many) of his stand-up acts, made a comment concerning the fact that we somehow need to kill the revolutionary minds, and this seems to be especially true concerning the United States. MLK Jr., Kennedy, hell, John Lennon comes over here and we kill him.

Are we just so involved in the status quo, fearing change/revolution that we have to destroy anything that threatens this shaky existence? What if this isn't "it"?

I'm certain that this isn't "it". Life cannot be about everything I do and think about day after day...for years...

At some moments, I allow time, space, existence to pass over me. Instead of swimming along in the current, I stop flapping my arms and moving my legs. I drift for a second, then extend my legs and allow my toes to touch the floor. The waters pound my back, spitting mist over my shoulder. The longer I avoid the tide, the stronger it becomes, forcing me to bend...forcing my mind to bend...to question...

Am I just a pair of ears and eyes...looking down my nose...gathering visual and audio information...Veins...brain...blood?
What is that voice in my head? Why does it tell me to "think"? Why does it tell me to love, and not to hate? Why doesn't it tell me to just accept the way things are? Would I really be able to live in such a world if I truly did hear the cries of pain?

I punch away at a thousand dollar keyboard while children beg to God for food. I care, yet I feel ultimately powerless, and honestly I am.

What skill do I possess that could help my fellow man? I'm a terrible beggar, and refuse to ask others like myself for their food, shelter, etc. What good is taking away the little that we (I) have while the callous, seemingly uncaring millionaires sacrifice nothing, yet take and take and take, even going so far as to complain when they take slightly less?

Our system needs a complete overhaul.

Bill Hicks had some good ideas. Shame he was merely a jester and died too young, leaving us all in this mess with his limited amount of material. Perhaps his ghost or spirit could send us some more bits?

Probably the most profound (yes, he made some profound statements all the while making dick and fart jokes) statement he made concerned humanity, specifically, the humanity in the United States. I'm not holding the common man at fault. He (We) are pretty powerless unless a revolution on a major scale occurs, but he mentioned something about how our nation allows all this money and manpower to be spent on building machines for war, while, if we used the same resources in a more constructive way, we could feed and clothe the rest of the starving, naked world many times over.

Fuck it, can we all just start over? Is it too late to apologize for eating off that damn Tree of Knowledge?

2005-09-28T17:09:00.000-07:00

I suppose breathing in dust and dirt is a bad thing...

It wasn't as noticeable on Saturday (or maybe I was distracted by the intense heat and slight humidity), but walking up to the gate to enter the music festival, I noticed a slight haze in the air. It seemed the sun was partially to blame. I can't fault the grass for dying in that 100+ degree heat. I'd probably do the same under similar conditions. Add to that the hundreds of thousands of feet beating the once green and moist earth-hair, all to the tempo of whatever folksy band or rock group was closest and/or loudest.

Perhaps it was karma at work. Mother Nature's revenge, if you will.

I meant her no harm, however. I walked the minimum amount on her babies, only traveling on foot to get much-needed water, or, once, to go take a slash in the "port-a-johns". The smell of the day old, boiling urine and the sight of pounds of toilet paper marinating in piss would seem like enough punishment, in my opinion. It was, at least, some shelter.

Before the headlining act started playing, there was a mass migration of concert-goers to the main stage. And with them came this cloud of dust. I'd never seen anything quite like it before. With each footstep, small amounts of dirt and deceased grass were kicked up into the air, and multiply this by roughly 352,000 and you get the end result.

To put it into a proper perspective, if the dirt in the air was locusts, we' would have been in the Biblical end-times.

Folks were walking around with bandanas over their nose and mouth, some also sporting surgeon's masks, ripped t-shirts, napkins from concession stands...
I had to make due with the latter.
The truth escapes me, but I hope I didn't mock those wearing the makeshift masks when I entered (unlike those I mocked for wearing those stupid "camel back" backpacks). If I did, I got what was coming, I guess.

As the sun vanished and darkness spilled out onto the park, so did, similarly, snot from my nose.
I was sneezin', coughin', and weezin'. If the sun had gone down any later, I would have been exposed as the allergy-prone wuss that I am, forever ruining my hardcore, festival-goer image that I had built up in front of these strangers the day before.
I went through a half dozen napkins, filling each one with equal combination of snot and dirt, knowing fully well that at that moment, I was bested. Although if I had a white flag, I wouldn't have been waving it. A far more practical use would have been to use it as a filter to breathe through, or as a tissue.

The last band of the night was pretty spectacular, and almost made me forget about the horrible damage I had done to my nose, throat, and lungs. But surely this was just some minor irritation. I mean, my respiratory system was used to taking in garbage. I smoked for nearly a half dozen years...

I arrived home with the C. at my side. We retired after washing ourselves of the night's experiences, dirt included. All our lungs aching...

The next day, I found myself in some level of hell. Not the level occupied by the liars, or the thieves, or even the dark room filled with lustful naked people, but some milder, yet still painful, place.

Coughing. Sneezing. Hacking up mucus. Skin burning. Sweating, but cold.

The immune system was working, seemingly. My body shut down after taking a shot or two of cold medicine. I felt high, yet jittery, and uncertain as to how this episode would end in the t.v. dramedy that is my life. I passed out...

Several hours later, I rose from the bed. My energy was gone. Maybe it never really came back after that first full day at the music festival, but I believe my lack of umph had to do with this cold/fever born of hours of inhaling dirt crystals.

Sleep that night was horrible. I dreamt of sweat. My nightmares coughed.

Gradually, the hold of the sickness began to grow softer. I felt much like Frank Costanza ie like a phoenix rising out of Arizona.

Thankfully, on this third afternoon after the "Day of the Dirt", I am at, approximately, 75%. I'm still not feeling too certain of myself, but then again, my throat isn't aflame with goo and itches. Still hacking up globs of fluid-remnants my body has deemed unnecessary.

Wonder if anyone else got sick? The C. didn't really. But then again, her excuse is the ol' "I'm from a third-world country where there's dirt everywhere, all the time, even in milk and candy, therefore my body is used to it aka Darwinism will not take me into the fires of Hades, unlike you, weakling". But surely being from a fairly rural area where there's always a dust storm or two whipped up from farming vehicles (tractors, combines, etc.) would have given me some sort of immunity...

Unrelated, I dreamt about the shark from JAWS last night. I think my mind spawned another sequel to the shark-based franchise. And, like most of the other sequels, this one too sucked and lacked imagination. Unlike the dream the night before where I was a vigilante "suiting up" with a couple knives, some camouflage clothing, and a baseball bat, on the cusp of a journey into the mysterious forest in search of a plane that had crashed while on a mission transporting serial killers. I never got around to sticking nails out of the baseball bat, although I had thought about it while in the dream.

Can't wait to get "Lost" tonight. Plus we'll get to see the encore second-season premiere since, for some reason or another, we missed it last week.

Word.

2005-09-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

Clockwise, from top left...
Thong sweat, Coldplay, that stupid camel-back backpack/water container, nearly sundown, more Coldplay...
I've gotta figure out how to make this photo layout look better.
This looks like complete shite...

2005-09-26T16:38:00.000-07:00

Saturday = hot...burned by the Austin sun. Hurricane Rita a threat, my ass. I knew everyone in Austin was crazy. I'm glad I didn't add to the insanity. On Thursday most of the grocery stores were out of water and bread, even hot dog buns! Definitely a knee-jerk reaction to the storm that nearly destroyed New Orleans...

Getting to the music festival at 2:30 pm was probably a mistake, as I felt exhausted by 5. We were perhaps overzealous, but lessons were learned. The C. felt like barfing at one point, and my exposed skin was red and hot to the touch. We would have loved to leave this land of girls in practically bras and panties, white old dudes wearing the colors of Jamaica, unlimited marijuana smoke, and creeps wearing some new sort of backpack/water container device, but if we did give up, we would not see one of the better bands to come out of the mid-90s alternative scene. We saw it in the distance, through the swirling dust storms...a mirage? An Oasis!

These fellas from abroad really knew how to put on a show, even though Liam has a tendency to get under my skin. Even though they rocked the house, I couldn't help but feel that Liam was just "goin' through the motions". Noel was entertaining however, although he told a story about him calling up room service to kill a couple cockroaches. Quite pathetic, but I suppose stardom has a tendency to make one forget that they have an inner caveman deep inside capable of smashing bugs with shoes, or capture-and-release'n em, what have you...

We waded through a sea of other rocked-out festival-goers, and eventually boarded our shuttle after an hour of standing/walking/briskly walking.

Immediately upon our arrival at home, we showered, washing the hours of dirt and sweat off us like so much dirt and sweat..uh...

Slept in again on Sunday...even later than the Saturday sleep-in...

We decided to blow off the "smaller" bands like The Bravery, Wilco, Arcade Fire, others and opted for more sleep and "couple time" away from that damn boiling sun. Our exit was around 5:45 pm. It was still 105 degrees, however.

As we entered the park, Coldplay's fluffer band Franz Ferdinand was in the middle of their set. They weren't too bad, but they were the garden salad before the Prime Rib. If you ask me, they played an hour too long, and Coldplay started an hour too late.

The sun began to fall. The dirt began to rise.

After Franz's set, I embarked on a mission to get the C. a cup o' tea (I suppose she was inspired by the brits). The air surrounding me was filled with dust/dirt/dried grass particles. I took in air, along with sand. I grabbed some napkins from the tea stand. I opted to use the napkins to cover my lover's tea from the increasing cloud of dust. My nose was left exposed. Later I would cover my nose/mouth with my t-shirt. Moot point really since I'm certain the damage was already done.

Darkness entered.
Artificial light was born via the rather large video screen adjacent to the main stage.

Coldplay began its love affair with us (the thousands of us). The lighting was spectacular. The sound even better. There was never a moment of uncertainty...a moment where I lost interest or intensity.

It was the greatest show ever. Better than Oasis the night before. Better than the Pixies. Better than them all, and by miles and miles...

And even though I'm hacking up dirt, or dust, or glass, whatever it may be, it was an awesome experience overall, and I got to enjoy it with my lover...my soulmate...my girl.

2005-09-19T15:06:00.000-07:00

My movie-makin' hymen has been shattered.
Perhaps it was the seemingly unlimited supply of domestic beer...or the spirit of jollification, but everyone involved cranked out a pretty funny short movie.

If only the masses could experience the power of this unquestionably ground-breaking film...

Also, I was stricken by a terrible case of constipation.
The act of emptying my bowels made me think of child-birth. I knew those Lamaze lessions would pay off.
"No pain, no gain" they say.

Although all that was really gained was a pretty ripped anus and a clogged ter-let.

"Oh what a night!"

Booze, bros/hos, fine cinema, and workin' hard for a good dump...
The spices of life.

2005-09-14T08:58:00.000-07:00

I've been watching the television series "Lost" (recently released on DVD) for the past week or so with my C. at my side. It's pretty damn entertaining...dramatic, sometimes funny, with at least one moment in every episode that makes my arm hair stiff on a blanket of goosebumps. Overall, just a creepy series/show. The C. and I have theories about where the show is headed, but honestly, I believe we are still rather clueless, just like the characters in the show. The show also has a nice "Lord of the Flies" vibe going on, which is always, in my book, a recipe for entertainment. Combine that with a pretty solid cast (although there are times when actors seemingly "overacting", but it's a rare), creative (although becoming the norm) camera work, and a great musical score/soundtrack, and I'm in like Flynn...Lara Flynn Boyle, that is. And no, thankfully she is not on the show.

However, I must say, like some fine wine, Matthew Fox only gets better with age. Would I go so far as to say that I have a man-crush on him? Nah, but I believe he's come a long way since "Party of Five".

Probably can't say the same for the rest of the cast from that show, well, except for Jennifer Love Hewitt of course.

"Heartbreakers" was the bomb, baby!

Barf.

2005-09-12T15:06:00.000-07:00

Which is considered more "offensive" on television?

Erect nipples, full of sensation, pushing their way to the surface, creating a bump or two on an otherwise smooth t-shirt, blouse, or dress...

-or-

"Camel Toe"...that rare occurrence when the female groin/vagina region takes in crotch fabric, holding it snug much like a mother panda bear embraces her cub...never has an blood-engorged labia majora (or perhaps minora) seemed so much like quicksand...

I'd probably lean more towards the latter.

Wonder which is more embarrassing...

Gotta go with the camel toe again.

I guess anything that pee pee comes out of will always be more offensive than just a couple balls of fat.

2005-09-11T00:10:00.000-07:00

When dreaming, I fly.
Although not like Superman.
I just swim in air.

2005-09-07T15:42:00.000-07:00

Geez!

After being bombarded with pleas of "help" from various mouths involved in Katrina relief, I thought to myself "Hey, I'm completely useless in most realms, but surely I can donate a buck or two to such charities!". I mean, I bitch and complain about celebrities, pro-sports players, and other folks with millions, hundred millions, gazillions, etc. not doing enough to help out our fellow Americans in New Orleans and the surrounding areas, so I would be a complete hypocrite to just sit back and not give anything myself. Right?

Well, after checking my bank account for available dough, I was sad, noticing that I had very little (microscopic little...mysterious fine for not having enough money in the bank little...what have you). Nevertheless, I was still determined to toss a dime or two the way of the Red Cross, since it seems to be the best thing going nowadays.
With a set amount in my head, I visit their official website. Suddenly, all good intentions escaped me.

The least one can donate is 25 dollars?!?
Double ewe tee efe?!?

And there I was, wanting to donate roughly 10% of my available funds to the victims. Shame, Red Cross. Shame.

Every little bit counts, my white ass...

Ah, so I suppose I can drive down to a local food bank or similar structure and donate my time?

Wrong again. As stated earlier, I probably only have enough cash to put, at best, a quarter of a tank of gas in my truck, hardly enough to travel back and forth to a food bank.

Ah, canned goods and stuff of that sort. Wow. Guess what?! My own cabinets are empty...well, except for a can of peas and a can of potatoes.
I guess I can donate that stuff, right? Actually, we're out of groceries, so that could be part of tonight's dinner.

But honestly, I'm fortunate to be living with someone who is, at the time, supporting my broke, unemployed ass. Hopefully it won't be for too long, as I've been pounding the electronic pavement for jobs.

Just makes me think about those rich ass celebrities...

I heard Oprah was going down to "see the disaster". Same with Shaq and others. Probably a Sean Penn or like actor too.
Do they not believe what they see on TV? Is all of it just some publicity stunt? Do they have souls? Beats the hell out of me.
I just know instead of throwing benefit concerts, fund-raising games, etc. they could be forking over some of their own dough instead of, like every other time in their selfish careers, depending on other people for money. Do like me, give (or attempt to give if you have at least 25 dollars) 10% of what ever is in your bank account currently...

We pay the celebrities, pro-sports stars, etc. salaries, folks. Without us, and a ton of the people that were crushed in Katrina's wrath, they would be toiling away at a real job. We do not need their services. They, however, need ours.

Why must the little people always be called on to help? Can we sit this one out?
Can't Debra Messing (Spelling? Oh, and an actress) auction off enough dresses to lift us all out of death's cold grasp?

Fuck 'em all, I say.
When the great social class revolution comes (God forbid, of course), we can bury them with their stupid green paper.

Wow, was that the Charles Manson in me talking?

Oops...

But seriously Debra Messing...you go girl!

2005-09-02T14:41:00.000-07:00

Found it funny that the night before all the shit hit the Big Easy, MTV news queen John Norris just kept harkin' on the fact that they "just avoided the rain". Well, their celebration of almost everything that is wrong with western civilization went off without a hitch...unfortunately, such joy did not make its way west, as a major U.S. city was, not totally without warning, blasted to hell and back.
But, without missing a god damn beat, John "Make sure I have a pink shirt for my broadcast" Norris was there, right in front of my fat stupid face, reporting on that just-avoided rain storm from the night before, full of the sadness and sorrow that is akin to a mother losing an only child.

I imagine...
If such a disaster hit, say, a more white folk-populated area, would this horror be taking place? If the residents were mostly middle to upper class, would things go like this? Would people be left totally exposed, thirsting for both water and help. Perhaps the "powers that be" believe those suffering can simply drink their own tears, or the billions of gallons of muddy water that sleeps at their knees.

Where are the heroes?
Does no one recall the hit song "I need a Hero"?
Did none of the gazillionares ever read comic books as a kid, dreaming of being Superman, Batman, some sort of avenger...seeker of justice...a protector of all that is good in the world? Do they just sit on their hands as millions suffer?

In our society, the dollar bill represents power. It is our form of flight or x-ray vision. So where are the superheroes of our world? I hear nothing of Bill Gates sending a hundred choppers down to the affected areas to offer aid...I see no mighty Oprah floating barges of goods into the sunken ghettos of New Orleans...and what about the thousands of pro sport athletes that take, take, take from those very humans...? It makes me quite sick.

Is this yet another agenda? Display commercial after commercial after telethon after telethon, begging us for help...we...the little people...barely affording a decent apartment, food for our bellies, and a small degree of entertainment...enough for us to make us forget how utterly pathetic we all are...they ask us for money and help. Sure, ask us for money...ask us to fight completely pointless wars in places we would never get to see on our own buck...forget the fact that, in an instant, you'd just turn your back on us, leave us poor...or up to our waist in the Gulf of Mexico's salty discharge...
Yes, I would love to fork over a hundred bucks...it's practically equal to what the celebrities give, right?

Seriously...perhaps communism isn't such a bad idea...

Anything to get the money out of Fitty (sp?) Cent's and Britney Spears' hands and put it into decent, hardworking members of our society (not that I am one of these, mind you)...

2005-08-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

I have become hardened to cries for help that are, for lack of a better word, unimportant.
Recently I read a few articles about how various Native American tribes are offended at the use of their name as mascots by universities across the nation.
This sort of stink falls into the realm of "unimportant".
Have the tribes completely forgotten about a slew of other problems that they face, and want to concentrate mainly on whether or not a sports team's mascot is offensive? Beats the hell out of me. What about alcoholism? Most "investigative reports" I've seen or read concern Native Americans and their appreciation for booze. I believe I saw one on the boob tube concerning the rising obesity rate in reservations. I have no idea whether such proclamations are true, but if they are even somewhat "accurate", shouldn't more attention be given to these issues, rather than wanting a college in northeastwest South Dakota to drop their logo? How about just asking for a million bucks instead since it will cost at least that much to pull the current products with the current logo off the shelves, design a new, less-offensive logo, and crap out thousands of new products to replace the pulled ones. Argh. My mind is a shrimp and this sort of nonsense is the fecal matter running along its spine.
Sure, I find a nickname like "Redskins" offensive, and wouldn't be opposed to the powers that be making them alter it. And "Chief Wahoo" (?), the mascot for the Cleveland Indians, could possibly be somewhat remotely, although a stretch, offensive. I've got no problems with such beefs.
But does putting the term "fighting" in front of any Native American tribe automatically make such a mascot in poor taste?
How about "the fighting Irish" of Notre Dame? My family line eventually makes it way to Ireland, so why on Earth do I lack the passion to object to such a title? I find it fitting...I mean, everyone fights, right? What about "scalping Cherokee"? I'm sure some scalping occurred in their past. How about "whipping Whites"? Sounds kinda cool, I think. Let's hear from the "Ragin' Cajuns", the "Runnin' Rebels"...Are the "Dodgers" making the rest of Los Angeles look like cowards because they prefer to "dodge" objects? I swear, have some of these tribes been hitting the peace pipe too hard? "Racist...".
But seriously, my bullshit meter has started to reach its apex.
Why must we occupy ourselves with insignificant items? Has political correctness totally blinded us to the greater sins that are being committed in front of our very eyes? Do we not care? Is it all part of the Dark Side's agenda? I do not believe most of us are this stupid.

Can we have some sort of revolution once we are forced to pay 3 bucks for a gallon of gas, please?

And for those in New Orleans, loot it up...but only from major corporations.

Enough for now. I'm so full of shit. Someone gimme some answers and/or orders.

Good Day.

2005-08-23T13:16:00.000-07:00

There are some artists who seemingly get worse with time (see Weezer, Foo Fighters, Madonna (?)), but I would feel comfortable making the generalization that most artists gain something with time...perhaps some sort of clarity or comfort with the whole process? Personally, my creations of the past leave me red-faced, and embarrassed to an extent, but so do many other things from my history (some friends, interests, thoughts, etc.).
And I don't care what anyone says...practicing is for suckers. Why should we hurry to practice anything? And is "practice" an appropriate term when it comes to doing something that one enjoys? It carries such a negative vibe...

"Practice makes perfect" = false

Only robots are perfect, you silly bastard.

That is, until they become "aware" of themselves...

Good Afternoon.

2005-08-19T22:37:00.000-07:00

More often than not, I am cynical...even cynical when it comes to the cynics, but I would suggest renting, and watching, a film entitled "The Corporation".

I am certainly able to get off the couch, but what do I do when I'm up?

2005-08-19T15:57:00.000-07:00

Anyone else think Misha Barton could afford to lose a pound or two?

2005-08-17T11:04:00.000-07:00

Dreams.
What the hell are they?

Are they merely thoughts of the subconscious? Are they aspirations...desires buried underneath the thoughts of the routine, revealing themselves during slumber when the logical mind is powerless? Are they the future? The past? If philosophers like Decartes, Hume, Locke, etc. were correct and reality is perception, would this mean that dreams exist as reality...some mysterious other-life? The after-life perhaps? Or is it something much more simple...like the release of "garbage thoughts" in an attempt by the brain to shut down for a period of rest? Beats the hell out of me...

Before going to bed, I toss 'n turn. My mind races. Thoughts wrestle with other thoughts in a grand, naked, sweating, Greco-Roman style orgy, and I am helpless, overpowered, and seemingly pinned...like it or not, these thoughts get the best of me in the end (what the hell...pun intended).
After a half hour or so of struggle, my mind brakes like an egg shell stiletto underneath the weight of a drowsy, fat lady, engorged to the utmost after an afternoon at a cream cheese factory.

This is the routine.

What follows is decided by a psychological roll of the dice...a roulette wheel in my noggin.

Sometimes I get to be Superman. Which is cool and all, but I can never fully experience flight. I suppose my mind can only relate defying gravity to swimming, as I often just "wade" in the air, even going so far as flapping my arms. Quite sad.
Other times, I am confronted by fears. Spiders, airplanes, snakes, etc.
I jog along, out on the lush green mounds near my grandmother's house. Visibility is high. I am safe.
But instantly, the ground is littered with serpents. Some are coiled, some outstretched and moving. Maybe they intend me no harm? Such is not for me to decide in dreams. Nor can I decide to not watch as the commercial airplanes collide in mid-air...
Recently, I was introduced to the joys of motherhood, somehow giving birth in my sleep. I shall never know that daughter...

Strangely, the setting of many of my dreams remains constant. More often than not, I am at my grandmother's house. She passed away in the winter of 2000. I never had a definitive goodbye, although, during my last visit to her hospital bed, I kissed her for the first and only time. Appropriate, I suppose. Sad nonetheless. I would assume her home serves as a place of peace...of routine...of childhood...of simplicity...a safe haven in such a dangerous world. Yet it is also filled with mystery, as there is much I do not know about the life of my grandparents...of their history...of my history.

I wake up each and every day to the same thing, in the same bed. I am the same person day after day.
Why can I not return to a similar life in dreams? Will I never complete the dreams of adolescence? Perhaps the red-head from "The Wizard" is still waiting for me in my dreams...will we never be reunited?

Que triste...

2005-08-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

As a meat, Turkey has made great strides in putting itself "up there" in the upper echelon with beef, chicken, and pork. Probably at the #4 spot just above fish at the moment, but expect big things from the other form of poultry in the future.
Although, surprisingly, there hasn't been a huge push by the turkey people to take advantage of any "mad cow" terror. Aside from steak, turkey can do just about everything that beef does...eh...burgers, meat loaf...eh...meatballs...
Beef has been king for too long. Chicken has had its shot, and has given the King of Red Meat some tough battles, but it is time for another challenger.

You're up, turkey...make us proud...

2005-08-13T02:34:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've felt rather childish. Actually, I believe the correct and appropriate term would be "innocent". As I watch prices soar all around me (especially the cost of gasoline), I wonder..."Why, all of a sudden, does it cost 3 bucks to purchase a gallon of gas"? I recall only a couple years ago when it was in the 1.50 range, and even that was high.
I don't buy much of what we're (the public) is being fed, be it by television, publications, our government, etc.
Believe me, someone (or rather, someones) is getting filthy rich off of this, and it's not me, or you, or the other 99% of the world. We're getting the short end of the stick. We toil...We worry...We get by month to month, paycheck to paycheck...Something as simple as seeing a doctor to prolong our mediocre lives can set us back. Heaven help us if an actual emergency occurs. If so, not to worry...I'm sure they take all major credit cards. Enter debt...building...growing...Down the road this debt leads to more worry...Our time on earth ticks away...Our debt does not. At least we live within this false idea we call America.
Go to church as a kid, learn some "golden rules" (don't fuck around, don't steal, don't kill), and listen to your parents/teachers/elders. Do well in high school (the higher the grade/score, the better) and get into the college of your choice (if you're able to afford it). Do well in college and the world is your playground. In my innocent mind, I actually believed this garbage. Lies...all lies. I weep for our future. I think "were any of us really prepared for this?".

Q: When will the lies stop?
A: Never.

We lay on our backs, smiling from ear to ear, as the people we trust (government, big business, religious reps., what have you) carefully place leeches on our bare backs. And what do we do if we discover such an abuse of our very bodies has taken place? Why, we turn over and expose our tender bellies to them, close our eyes, and pretend it never happened, giving them the perfect opportunity to rape us again, and again, and again, until there is no blood left...

Q: Is there any way to stop this behavior?
A: Perhaps, but it will take all of us working together (the white trash, the racists, the crack whores, the Bible-thumpers, the english-as-a-second-language folk, the lousy band playing alt-prog-math-geek-emo rock in some dive in Michigan, the paperboys, anyone making less than 20 dollars an hour, the disturbed, and, especially the children...).

My request to the Nation, on this 13th day of August in the Christian year of 2005:
Make an impact.

Q: But I am only one person...what impact could I have on this Nation...this society?
A: The potential within each of us is unlimited. A single person can change the course of history (or at least give it a hell of a shove).

Take a look at some individuals throughout history, ie Martin Luther King Jr., Adolf Hitler, Albert Einstein, George Lucas, Superman...alright, so he was an alien with super powers, but the others were ordinary men (there are important women too, although less since they just recently were given the right to speak), just like us. Imagine the impact one hundred MLK Jr.'s would have had on society...a thousand...a million...I believe in each and every one of us "commoners" there is a spirit...a spirit that will fight and sacrifice for goodness, peace, civilization, equality...
Let us cast away old vices like race, intelligence, religion, appearance, odor...
We must band together..the middle class, the lower class, the no class...one day we will have to "take back" this nation of ours. Better now rather than later. Do it for the lil' ones.

Your mission:

1. We all pick a major money-maker (Wal-Mart, McDonald's, the movie theatres, etc.).
2. For an entire week, every single person in the U.S. should stay away from the chosen business.
3. If we all pick the same business, said business will lose millions.
4. The silent majority (aka we) wins.

If you still demand to go to major money-makers and we pick "Wal-Mart" to ban for a week, just go to Target or Cost Co., or where ever else you want. The goal is to make an impact...to show one business that no matter how poor we are individually, together we make or brake anything...or anyone. After the week-ban is over, feel free to shop at the targeted business again.

Sure, lots of folks would lose employment, but "you can't make an, how you say, omelet without breaking a few eggs".

Goodnight.