favorable quotes:
"I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on."-----Frankenstein
"The talk of the ignorant is like the rumblings which issue from the belly."-----Demetrius the Cynic
"I have long believed that the damaged and the crazy are the ones best equiped to make a difference."-----Toy Soldier Roman
"LOVE AND PEACE!"---Vash the Stampede
"Don't pray in my school and I won't think in your church"---anonymous
"Life is a long hallway that ends in a door, and suicide is a hole in the wall."--Me
"You fucking cunt..."---me on several occasions.
"I'm a lvl 25 neutral Drow Ranger/Monk with intelligent guns of opposite alignment and the soul of a kluricher and 3 liches in the pocket of my +10 gold dragonscale armor. Bite Me."----me
"I get an idea, and when it doesn't explain everything in the first minute, I panic. I must be going crazy."--- I am Legend.
"Sex was fast losing its meaning without the endless prodding of mass hypnosis"--- I am Legend
"In your world you can take a pen and write on a piece of paper and destroy 200,000 people or more and its ok because you don't have to see it..."---Charles Manson
"Like Gulliver returning from the logical horses, I find the human smell offensive"--- I am Legend
"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss, but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us"---Dr. Samuel Loomis
"Make yourself the most terrifying, horrific thing in the entire world. Then you will have nothing to fear but yourself."---Myself
"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."---Dr. Johnson
"I am the darkness that perceives the Night,"---Saul Williams, Children of Night
"I don't have a problem with religion. What I have a problem with is religion posing as science. If there is a god and he's intelligent, then I would guess he has a sense of humor."---Bobby Henderson
"The puddle is certain that the hole in the ground it occupies must have been designed specifically for it because it fits him so well. The puddle exists under the sun until it has entirely evaporated."---Douglas Adams
"Truth is here"; this phrase means, wherever it is uttered: the priest lies."----Nietzsche
"With all the debates about whether or not God is dead, if he isn't he had better have medicare!"----Anton Szandor LaVey
"So let me get this straight. I accidentally killed a kluricher, aka Satan's worst nightmare, and you're sending me to an eternal empty gray waste dimension... do i still get the exp?"----Me playing Dungeons and Dragons.
"that is the most badass thing since ass got bad!"----me, commenting on one of j.m.'s drawings
"Everything is awesome. Fundamentally"----Shmeckler
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
I Am
Searching the room with my eyes, resting upon the familiar sights I've come to base my reality upon: my shoes, my pants, my lighter, my headphones. All of these material things are my perspective, just like my memories build the virtual reality inside my head; this neuroscopic landscape just beneath my skull, with beautiful shards of stained glass clinging to the bare ribs of an old citadel window frame, completes the ideal vision of the inside of my head; although, I imagine there would be more blood as well.
And as I close my eyes, geometric patterns fill the void of my light-deprived orbs, and I see around me fractal elves dancing their silly little dances, beckoning me towards them with gifts of wisdom and enlightenment. Should I follow? Or should I stay behind, to play in the weight of the world. Would I miss my sister? my mother? my friends?
But before I can decide, I am awoken by the response to my question;
"We're made of science."
"What did I ask, again?"
"Why do we see geometric patterns when blood rushes to our heads."
"Oh, right. Makes sense..." I haphazardly convinced myself.
This sort of thing happens often. I ask a question, a fundamental aspect of life that few will ponder, and it receives a lame duck of a response for an answer.
I open my eyes and the walls are breathing, which prompts me to close my eyes once more. It is now that my eyes are jolted open once more, this time my ears filling with the sounds of electric eels with number pads. It is Mikson Cross, my best friend, and he has this to say;
"I am awake and feelin phresh."
"Swayt," I reply,"head on over."
And he does just that, post-haste. The thing to recognize with Mikson is his tenacity for audacity towards his goals, whatever they might be for the time that he decides to act. The next thing to recognize is his basis of life: terminatorology. This can be boiled down to Human Battery Method on a ten-scaled system. Basically, Mikson is a terminator, built to pwn.
As Mikson arrives, my other best friend, Ciara, ring-a-lings me, letting me know she is also on her way. When the three of us are within five feet of each other, we decide it is couch-talk time(this is the time in the party when we all recount our days and talk about things that annoy us). After couch-talk time, we climb out of our feathery doom of a sofa and manage to walk out the front door towards Mikson's house. Mikson lives over the mountains beyond my Cul de sac, which is about 100 yards away from my front door (the cul de sac, not the mountains; the mountains are much further away). With our sunshine in hand, we walk daintily, as ladies do, along the courtyard path, dodging mosquitoes and toads along the way. For me, it is an easy task to handle in the dark (did I mention it was night?), my eyes having already adjusted. I looked up and saw the most beautiful sky a night could offer. The city lights did all they could to silence the sparkling stars, but alas for the town, the stars shone through strong. And why shouldn't they? Are they not giant gas bulbs in space after all? My thoughts are interrupted by the conversation between the two friends who had walked somewhat ahead of me.
"I can get meth," Mikson mumbles.
"We should start a meth study buddy group," Ciara replies.
I race up to join them, only to find the discussion grossly beyond my interests; the discussion was misheard by yours truly. My friends were trying to find MATH, not METH. But with a little reorganization of my brain, I switch from artist to geek and we begin our now out-dated socratic triangle. As we pile into Mikson's Titan, Ciara pokes my shoulder.
"Myes?" I glance back at her, all the while fumbling with my iFuckYourWallet, trying to find the perfect song, only to realize I have no control over what music plays from my device. I can only turn it on, off, onto shuffle, or onto cycle, which is probably my least favorite, with off coming in at second.
"We should pick up a fairy book from my house. You'd really like it, and I've been meaning to show it to you," she whispers, her voice barely audible behind the torrent of technelectro.
Looking at Mikson as he climbs into the driver's seat, he nods and says, "I have no clue as to where you live. But yes, go we shall."
"You know where Soulistus' father lives?"
"Yes."
"My house is right across the street, more or less."
And so Mikson drives his Titanic Truck out and over the mountains, towards his residence, which incidentally rests upon the tallest of these mountains (by mountains I mean very very very slight and gentle hills. Isosceles hills, if you will). Meanwhile, Mikson and I decide to have a music war, where we each play a song we think the other hasn't heard. My part in this competition is somewhat vexed, as my iFuckYourWallet has no pause, play, next, previous, or buttons of any kind. In actuality, it has one switch with three positions (Off, Cycle, Shuffle), and a lever type clip on the back. I can also imagine there being some sort of spring involved in that lever, as it is quite, well, springy.
As phantoms engulf the sounds my ears can decipher, we arrive at Mikson's hold, where we depart from his truck and walk briskly through the enormous wrought-iron gate, adorned with space invaders and glass art. Keeping an eye on Cooly, Mikson's trusted A.D.D. wolf, we ease our way through the dangers and perils that lead towards shelter: a structure built by Mikson's own hands and blood, literally. Okay, not literally, but figuratively yes. And come to think of it, I'm almost certain Mikson spilt blood somewhere on that foundation, and I am certain that he used his hands to build it. So yes, literally.
We steal through the night, sweeping under the slow-dropping gate and into the salvation of the hold, making haste to shut the gate and door behind us.
May the devil take you in your slumber and rape you asunder!
And as I close my eyes, geometric patterns fill the void of my light-deprived orbs, and I see around me fractal elves dancing their silly little dances, beckoning me towards them with gifts of wisdom and enlightenment. Should I follow? Or should I stay behind, to play in the weight of the world. Would I miss my sister? my mother? my friends?
But before I can decide, I am awoken by the response to my question;
"We're made of science."
"What did I ask, again?"
"Why do we see geometric patterns when blood rushes to our heads."
"Oh, right. Makes sense..." I haphazardly convinced myself.
This sort of thing happens often. I ask a question, a fundamental aspect of life that few will ponder, and it receives a lame duck of a response for an answer.
I open my eyes and the walls are breathing, which prompts me to close my eyes once more. It is now that my eyes are jolted open once more, this time my ears filling with the sounds of electric eels with number pads. It is Mikson Cross, my best friend, and he has this to say;
"I am awake and feelin phresh."
"Swayt," I reply,"head on over."
And he does just that, post-haste. The thing to recognize with Mikson is his tenacity for audacity towards his goals, whatever they might be for the time that he decides to act. The next thing to recognize is his basis of life: terminatorology. This can be boiled down to Human Battery Method on a ten-scaled system. Basically, Mikson is a terminator, built to pwn.
As Mikson arrives, my other best friend, Ciara, ring-a-lings me, letting me know she is also on her way. When the three of us are within five feet of each other, we decide it is couch-talk time(this is the time in the party when we all recount our days and talk about things that annoy us). After couch-talk time, we climb out of our feathery doom of a sofa and manage to walk out the front door towards Mikson's house. Mikson lives over the mountains beyond my Cul de sac, which is about 100 yards away from my front door (the cul de sac, not the mountains; the mountains are much further away). With our sunshine in hand, we walk daintily, as ladies do, along the courtyard path, dodging mosquitoes and toads along the way. For me, it is an easy task to handle in the dark (did I mention it was night?), my eyes having already adjusted. I looked up and saw the most beautiful sky a night could offer. The city lights did all they could to silence the sparkling stars, but alas for the town, the stars shone through strong. And why shouldn't they? Are they not giant gas bulbs in space after all? My thoughts are interrupted by the conversation between the two friends who had walked somewhat ahead of me.
"I can get meth," Mikson mumbles.
"We should start a meth study buddy group," Ciara replies.
I race up to join them, only to find the discussion grossly beyond my interests; the discussion was misheard by yours truly. My friends were trying to find MATH, not METH. But with a little reorganization of my brain, I switch from artist to geek and we begin our now out-dated socratic triangle. As we pile into Mikson's Titan, Ciara pokes my shoulder.
"Myes?" I glance back at her, all the while fumbling with my iFuckYourWallet, trying to find the perfect song, only to realize I have no control over what music plays from my device. I can only turn it on, off, onto shuffle, or onto cycle, which is probably my least favorite, with off coming in at second.
"We should pick up a fairy book from my house. You'd really like it, and I've been meaning to show it to you," she whispers, her voice barely audible behind the torrent of technelectro.
Looking at Mikson as he climbs into the driver's seat, he nods and says, "I have no clue as to where you live. But yes, go we shall."
"You know where Soulistus' father lives?"
"Yes."
"My house is right across the street, more or less."
And so Mikson drives his Titanic Truck out and over the mountains, towards his residence, which incidentally rests upon the tallest of these mountains (by mountains I mean very very very slight and gentle hills. Isosceles hills, if you will). Meanwhile, Mikson and I decide to have a music war, where we each play a song we think the other hasn't heard. My part in this competition is somewhat vexed, as my iFuckYourWallet has no pause, play, next, previous, or buttons of any kind. In actuality, it has one switch with three positions (Off, Cycle, Shuffle), and a lever type clip on the back. I can also imagine there being some sort of spring involved in that lever, as it is quite, well, springy.
As phantoms engulf the sounds my ears can decipher, we arrive at Mikson's hold, where we depart from his truck and walk briskly through the enormous wrought-iron gate, adorned with space invaders and glass art. Keeping an eye on Cooly, Mikson's trusted A.D.D. wolf, we ease our way through the dangers and perils that lead towards shelter: a structure built by Mikson's own hands and blood, literally. Okay, not literally, but figuratively yes. And come to think of it, I'm almost certain Mikson spilt blood somewhere on that foundation, and I am certain that he used his hands to build it. So yes, literally.
We steal through the night, sweeping under the slow-dropping gate and into the salvation of the hold, making haste to shut the gate and door behind us.
May the devil take you in your slumber and rape you asunder!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
so, i'm sampling the glitch mob's new album, and I realize something interesting; its quite chill for glitch music. Much like how the Gorillaz' new album is quite down-tempo, this album, drink the sea, is down-tempo as well. So far my favourites are Fist of Silence, or something along those lines, aaaaaaaand the new Monday remix.
Blood in the streets it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets it's up to my knees.
If you don't like my fire, then don't come around...
Just finished getting back from Target, Fry's, Barnes & Noble, and World Market. Needless to say, there is a pizza on the way and my wallet is emptier than my cold dead heart (lawl). Anywho, I miss my best friend, and a few other friends but otherwise its alright. woot
Blood in the streets it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets it's up to my knees.
If you don't like my fire, then don't come around...
Just finished getting back from Target, Fry's, Barnes & Noble, and World Market. Needless to say, there is a pizza on the way and my wallet is emptier than my cold dead heart (lawl). Anywho, I miss my best friend, and a few other friends but otherwise its alright. woot
Friday, May 14, 2010
Do de doo
Lightning chases the clouds through the slit in my roof. A warm wind crawls in through the window, and i am driven to smell the air. I realize I can't recall a single Mars Volta song, and I am not bothered by this at all. The sound of clamshells opening and closing quickly conquers my attention and my eyes are drawn towards the black and blue tiger on my windowsill. I watched in horror as its eye moved towards my locale. Suddenly, and without warning, the tiger's mouth opened and a menagerie of beeps, buzzes, and bass drops filled my ears. My vision is transverted to a mosaic of color and sound, lasers and electric blue.
I feel artistically blas-tastikally puma-rifically F.U.S.A.I.-raciously like a rolling stone. I gather no moss for the winter! And boy is winter upon us, wink wink. Lawl jk its actually summer time, and the weather is hot and merry (fuck I sound like a god damn news caster. time to change the tempo).
I've talked about the soul being bioelectricity in the brain before, but I haven't talked about where that energy goes after we die. Perhaps this is the reincarnation I have read about?
Also interesting, is this article about how DNA could have come from space viruses from other intelligent life.
My belief?
Perhaps we are being monitored like science projects by these aliens. Perhaps the government is selling their data on us to these aliens for a price... what price? SpaceCash.
here, take a look.
I feel artistically blas-tastikally puma-rifically F.U.S.A.I.-raciously like a rolling stone. I gather no moss for the winter! And boy is winter upon us, wink wink. Lawl jk its actually summer time, and the weather is hot and merry (fuck I sound like a god damn news caster. time to change the tempo).
I've talked about the soul being bioelectricity in the brain before, but I haven't talked about where that energy goes after we die. Perhaps this is the reincarnation I have read about?
Also interesting, is this article about how DNA could have come from space viruses from other intelligent life.
My belief?
Perhaps we are being monitored like science projects by these aliens. Perhaps the government is selling their data on us to these aliens for a price... what price? SpaceCash.
here, take a look.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
An eye for an eye, a tentacle for a fist
The day has come,
but the sun didn't rise.
Instead came the moon,
on the wings of a crow,
up over the horizon,
a jagged horizontal line
of mountains and eyeballs.
I can see the plant-life between
the slits in the window screen,
crawling up the side of the house,
begging for sunlight.
None shall pour.
Finished my drawing, I think it turned out really well. Sorta I wanted to illustrate the birth of order and universe from molecular and imaginary chaos (since molecules and imagination are some of the most chaotic things I can picture), and I also pictured writing a story within the lines of my inking about the journey of life and civilization. Me-thinks I did this very well.
None shall pour.
Twisted sideways, staring blankly,
an eye for an eye,
a tentacle for a fist.
This is my world,
and welcome to it.
but the sun didn't rise.
Instead came the moon,
on the wings of a crow,
up over the horizon,
a jagged horizontal line
of mountains and eyeballs.
I can see the plant-life between
the slits in the window screen,
crawling up the side of the house,
begging for sunlight.
None shall pour.
Finished my drawing, I think it turned out really well. Sorta I wanted to illustrate the birth of order and universe from molecular and imaginary chaos (since molecules and imagination are some of the most chaotic things I can picture), and I also pictured writing a story within the lines of my inking about the journey of life and civilization. Me-thinks I did this very well.
None shall pour.
Twisted sideways, staring blankly,
an eye for an eye,
a tentacle for a fist.
This is my world,
and welcome to it.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Troubles in Paradise
So, I recently put linux on my lappy-toppy, and I must say it is quite the upgrade. Ubuntu certainly knows what its doing as far as operating systems go. However...
I decided to install Linux Mint on my main rig, which in turn decided to give up on wireless internet. So, my difficulty lies with coding up the .inf files of my previous installation of windows into linux so that I can use my USB wireless adapter. ITs awesome, tbh. I love troubleshooting my computer. It gives me a sense of knowledge that can only be achieved in a real world scenario. The treasure hunts for information and data, it exudes an almost explorer-like scenario, like I'm some sort of Magellan of the wilderness that is the internet, scouring for tips and files throughout the maze of forums and websites. This takes me back to scavenger-hunts I would put on for myself when I was a child.
It was early 2002, and I was living in Carmine, Tx. Here is where Carmine, Tx is:
That highway is 290. It runs all the way from Houston to Austin. Carmine is halfway in between Houston and Austin. It is also in the middle of the hill country, which means it has long roads and big hills. Anyway, I used to hide toys and other little knick-knacks for other people to find. I also enjoyed finding things that other people had hid.
Anyway, Linux is a strange, new world, and I readily await delving deeper into it.
I decided to install Linux Mint on my main rig, which in turn decided to give up on wireless internet. So, my difficulty lies with coding up the .inf files of my previous installation of windows into linux so that I can use my USB wireless adapter. ITs awesome, tbh. I love troubleshooting my computer. It gives me a sense of knowledge that can only be achieved in a real world scenario. The treasure hunts for information and data, it exudes an almost explorer-like scenario, like I'm some sort of Magellan of the wilderness that is the internet, scouring for tips and files throughout the maze of forums and websites. This takes me back to scavenger-hunts I would put on for myself when I was a child.
It was early 2002, and I was living in Carmine, Tx. Here is where Carmine, Tx is:
That highway is 290. It runs all the way from Houston to Austin. Carmine is halfway in between Houston and Austin. It is also in the middle of the hill country, which means it has long roads and big hills. Anyway, I used to hide toys and other little knick-knacks for other people to find. I also enjoyed finding things that other people had hid.
Anyway, Linux is a strange, new world, and I readily await delving deeper into it.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Fated to Pretend
Good sandwiches are hard to come by," I said aloud. "i make the best pb&js," she replied. I had to sit back and wonder, 'does she?'
But by the second bite, I knew she told no lies.
"This sandwich is the shiznit," I said between chews. "I'm glad you like it," mumbled the girl eating her own pb&j.
Late night sandwiches are always most memorable with crumbs in the morning. Went to a fancy dinner party last night. It was a black tie event; I wore white. I met some very interesting people at this little get together, one of whom was a bellydancing steampunk anime nerd. She was also engaged the entire party, and I saw no chance of her breaking her engagement with her fiance, considering he was with her at the party.
Today has been a slower of days, but I do not let that drag the rest of the world down. Quite the contrary, on days like this, I appreciate the speed of the Earth as it spins in space.
But by the second bite, I knew she told no lies.
"This sandwich is the shiznit," I said between chews. "I'm glad you like it," mumbled the girl eating her own pb&j.
Late night sandwiches are always most memorable with crumbs in the morning. Went to a fancy dinner party last night. It was a black tie event; I wore white. I met some very interesting people at this little get together, one of whom was a bellydancing steampunk anime nerd. She was also engaged the entire party, and I saw no chance of her breaking her engagement with her fiance, considering he was with her at the party.
Today has been a slower of days, but I do not let that drag the rest of the world down. Quite the contrary, on days like this, I appreciate the speed of the Earth as it spins in space.
somewhere over the brainwaves
Sometimes I forget that people think. I mean, its a common mistake, people just don't look like they're thinking about much of anything. They just stare... not to say I don't stare, but I'll throw in an occasional "Duuude," or, "myep," or my favorite, "eh?"
It took a trip to walmart to remind me that some people think, and others don't. And I'm not saying people are stupid, or mindless, but they are somewhat closed-minded. Some people live their whole lives concerned about everything within a fifty mile radius; how many people concern themselves with the rest of the country? the rest of the continent? the world? How about galaxies? I might be one in a thousand, but I think of myself as a person on a planet floating in space, spinning outwards from a star, which is spinning outwards from the center of our galaxy, which is spinning outwards from creation. Is this a crazy concept to imagine? Or am I just now coming to realize something that nearly everyone knows but doesn't care about?
Maybe I'm looking at this too deeply. But I do think about how people think. And I worry about what they're thinking about, on a grand scale of course. I don't give two rats about whether they think about me or someone around me in other words. That's just being paranoid.
On a grander scale, I have to wonder if the general population of the planet is, well, educated about the planet. I mean, maybe I'm pushing reality onto a lot of people... well, I still do wonder.
What do people think about?
If bioelectricity is the soul, then our thoughts and dreams are our soul's essence. Our ability to imagine, that is of particular importance. How would anything be where it is today without a little imagination?
It took a trip to walmart to remind me that some people think, and others don't. And I'm not saying people are stupid, or mindless, but they are somewhat closed-minded. Some people live their whole lives concerned about everything within a fifty mile radius; how many people concern themselves with the rest of the country? the rest of the continent? the world? How about galaxies? I might be one in a thousand, but I think of myself as a person on a planet floating in space, spinning outwards from a star, which is spinning outwards from the center of our galaxy, which is spinning outwards from creation. Is this a crazy concept to imagine? Or am I just now coming to realize something that nearly everyone knows but doesn't care about?
Maybe I'm looking at this too deeply. But I do think about how people think. And I worry about what they're thinking about, on a grand scale of course. I don't give two rats about whether they think about me or someone around me in other words. That's just being paranoid.
On a grander scale, I have to wonder if the general population of the planet is, well, educated about the planet. I mean, maybe I'm pushing reality onto a lot of people... well, I still do wonder.
What do people think about?
If bioelectricity is the soul, then our thoughts and dreams are our soul's essence. Our ability to imagine, that is of particular importance. How would anything be where it is today without a little imagination?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Every Cage Loves a Captive
Recently enjoyed A Tale of Two Sisters, a creepy Korean horror flick where one girl is schizoid and imagines her dead sister is all whatnots in her bee's wax. Long story short, its a damn good movie.
Something that isn't so damn good would be my attempted stickam interactions; that is to say, it doesn't work on my lap top. Sad Face. I guess I'm just not meant to be a pretty face online... lol.
Anyway, I'm bored of blogging. I'll finish this blog later.
~Trey, 11:27 pm
So here I am, almost 12 hours later (its 10:45 am as I type this), and I must say, I had some very strange dreams. Now would be a good time for me to talk about what I think dreams are.
Well, first and foremost we must define dreams by the stuff they are made of; namely, bioelectricity in the brain. Long story short, there's energy up there in our brains being used, and it has to go somewhere. I don't know where, but I think imagination has something to do with it.
Bands to look into:
Band of Horses
Silversun Pickups
Another Cynthia
Something that isn't so damn good would be my attempted stickam interactions; that is to say, it doesn't work on my lap top. Sad Face. I guess I'm just not meant to be a pretty face online... lol.
Anyway, I'm bored of blogging. I'll finish this blog later.
~Trey, 11:27 pm
So here I am, almost 12 hours later (its 10:45 am as I type this), and I must say, I had some very strange dreams. Now would be a good time for me to talk about what I think dreams are.
Well, first and foremost we must define dreams by the stuff they are made of; namely, bioelectricity in the brain. Long story short, there's energy up there in our brains being used, and it has to go somewhere. I don't know where, but I think imagination has something to do with it.
Bands to look into:
Band of Horses
Silversun Pickups
Another Cynthia
Der Kommisar's in Town
She said "Baby you know I miss you and Joe and all my funky friends.."
Anyway >.>
Today I remembered that people can be genuinely nice to one another. Then I remembered that some people like to think such barbaric things like, "If you don't believe what I believe, you will suffer from eternal damnation." These people have a very depressing outlook. Honestly, I believe that there is no such thing as eternal damnation, unless we somehow find a way to live forever. That would be eternal damnation for sure. A mind, always active, always going... I imagine it would be like staying awake for a week straight, which I can imagine as I have indeed stayed awake for a week (it sucked), except replacing a week with eternity. Dreaming, sleeping, unconscious, you would still be alive. Even meditating, you would constantly be reminded of your static existence. How sad. I don't like to imagine a life after death, for the very reason that I think it would get boring. Perhaps dying of natural causes is just dying of boredom. "Man I'm bored, and I'm, like, 90-something years along now. I think I'll shut down. Wee!"
Probably could have done without the wee, but hey, most people do wee (or poo) when they die.
Fact of life no. 753: you will release your bowels at death.
Does anyone ever stop to think about where our world is going these days? I'm sorry, but for some reason, in my mind at least, there's a line between clever and stupid; that is to say, some things may seem stupid, but are actually clever on a higher level, while some things that people consider clever are, well, actually just stupid. People don't seem to recognize this line anymore. Case in point, the new sandwich at KFC that features chicken instead of bread. When I first heard about this, I was in pure disbelief. It was as though someone took dough-nuts and made a smoothie. A sandwich, where the only bread is breading, where there is meat with meat, where the fat literally jumps off the sandwich, out of the grease, and burrows through the pores in your fingers all the way to your brain. Yes, your skull is filling up with fat as you consume that sandwich.
Here's another crazy direction the world is taking: the giant iPod Touch. Oh, I'm sorry, the "revolutionary window to the internet" aka the iPad. When I first saw this online, it was around 2:36 a.m., and my friends and I were looking at stupid things online. Then a giant iPod Touch showed up.
"Are they retarded or something? That's a giant iPod Touch. That's the lamest thing since the H3T (the hummer 3 truck)," I said. "Surely Steve Jobs isn't retarded enough to try to sell that to people."
Well, turns out Steve Jobs is brilliant. Everyone who bought an iPad should grab a chicken sandwich from the KFC drive-through in their H3T, and they might as well go check out the latest One-Word-Wonder Movie of the decade.
Maybe I'm just being a pessimist, but I am seriously thinking that America as a culture is dying, dead, or a zombie cheerleader biting the dick off of a zombie quarter-back. Probably the last one.
I for one cannot stand by and watch these so-called "great ideas" flourish. A great idea is something substantial that changes the world for the better. It should not make one person richer, it should not make someone fat, and it should not be a conjunction of things that already exist. We have enough multitasking in our lives already without the need for extra chicken on our chicken sandwich.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Autosave Error
A mirror set up against the wall, directing my eyes towards the 11 o'clock corner of the room. The lamp from my childhood, black mahogany carved to look like reeds rising from a pond, hid a framed picture from the room, while a crooked candle burned away in front, like a witness to a messianic union of Shadow, Light, and Art. Interesting, then, that all of this should be atop a writing desk, complete with pull out writing surface and ink well. And in the bowels of this planar-table, a Michalopolis book, depicting the twisted streets of New Orleans in a light better described as Hi-LSDefinition, at least in my opinion.
Waking up to remember drama and bullshit. D&B and I haven't gotten along since the third grade. And since around that time, I've avoided D&B religiously. But it seems to be chasing me down, trying to infiltrate my life once more.
Good Luck.
In other news it would appear our good friend Trent Reznor has released some new tunes. Very downtempo, like a garden snake in the grass this song slithers along at a slow pace. Sounds like:
Ghosts grew up and turned into Poltergeists. Lazy Poltergeists.
Oh, and,
I put Linux Ubuntu onto my laptop, which is how I am able to type this blog today.
Waking up to remember drama and bullshit. D&B and I haven't gotten along since the third grade. And since around that time, I've avoided D&B religiously. But it seems to be chasing me down, trying to infiltrate my life once more.
Good Luck.
In other news it would appear our good friend Trent Reznor has released some new tunes. Very downtempo, like a garden snake in the grass this song slithers along at a slow pace. Sounds like:
Ghosts grew up and turned into Poltergeists. Lazy Poltergeists.
Oh, and,
I put Linux Ubuntu onto my laptop, which is how I am able to type this blog today.
In Cold Ink
Artistic Update:
a preview of something to come... as it always is. This particular piece I've taken many hours upon, and I have something special planned for it as well. More to see, more to see...
a preview of something to come... as it always is. This particular piece I've taken many hours upon, and I have something special planned for it as well. More to see, more to see...
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Bass'n'Kin
"Before the night is over the walls start moving.
When he walks down the hallway the hands start shoving.
Before he can catch himself, he falls.
Quickly regaining his vision, he glances around before getting up.
He is alone in the house."
---Vincent Wright
Star, my black kitty-ca', is being adorable currently. She is playing with her mouse in her sleep, resting on her back and purring loudly. I envy her ability to sleep all day. For in dreams I feel most comfortable, most at home. This waking world is too static to hold my attention for very long. Dreams, now there's something interesting. I've been talking to different people about their dreams, and as I suspected, everyone dreams differently. One person dreams with especially bright colours, while another is always a hero of the adventure. Perhaps I should envy the sandman, rather than my cat.
In recent events, I attended the crystal method show at rich's on Friday. Twas quite enjoyable, although Aoki had a more excitable feel to it. My best friend Sara was kind enough to take me, and I have something planned to thank her.
You know, the funny thing about living on your own is how boring your own life seems. Living with other people makes things interesting, yes, because its things occurring outside of your control. You can only observe them happening, as opposed to causing them. When you cause them, well, the experience is just something you did, instead of something you witnessed. I don't know, maybe witnessing something is more memorable, or interesting, than something done with your own hands?
That said, I've been drawing more often than not, and I've realized also that certain activities take away from my drawing ability. To fix this, I'm currently adjusting my activities that I partake in so that I might enhance my art skills further.
In other news, I found my dad on youtube:
Damn good job if you ask me. I need to talk to that guy more often...
When he walks down the hallway the hands start shoving.
Before he can catch himself, he falls.
Quickly regaining his vision, he glances around before getting up.
He is alone in the house."
---Vincent Wright
Star, my black kitty-ca', is being adorable currently. She is playing with her mouse in her sleep, resting on her back and purring loudly. I envy her ability to sleep all day. For in dreams I feel most comfortable, most at home. This waking world is too static to hold my attention for very long. Dreams, now there's something interesting. I've been talking to different people about their dreams, and as I suspected, everyone dreams differently. One person dreams with especially bright colours, while another is always a hero of the adventure. Perhaps I should envy the sandman, rather than my cat.
In recent events, I attended the crystal method show at rich's on Friday. Twas quite enjoyable, although Aoki had a more excitable feel to it. My best friend Sara was kind enough to take me, and I have something planned to thank her.
You know, the funny thing about living on your own is how boring your own life seems. Living with other people makes things interesting, yes, because its things occurring outside of your control. You can only observe them happening, as opposed to causing them. When you cause them, well, the experience is just something you did, instead of something you witnessed. I don't know, maybe witnessing something is more memorable, or interesting, than something done with your own hands?
That said, I've been drawing more often than not, and I've realized also that certain activities take away from my drawing ability. To fix this, I'm currently adjusting my activities that I partake in so that I might enhance my art skills further.
In other news, I found my dad on youtube:
Damn good job if you ask me. I need to talk to that guy more often...
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