Today's Find...


A good and appropriate flow to an already established catchy beat. Why not, I say...

Belly...
Is what my caller ID would say if I were to call my asshole self. It's somewhat depressing, but probably more so being Saturday Night. And I'm not alone, but feeling quite unsatisfied with myself. Perhaps the coffee table just happens to have been cluttered with trash and ash long enough to summon the subconscious mothers scold from Christmas past, and the timing is unfortunately perfect. Now all I can see is a messy coffee table and an alarmingly increasing fatmosphere around my waistline. Why am I so aware that it's Saturday Night? I guess from an outsiders point of view, which I seem to value mysteriously more, I criticize every recognized moment as an example of either a tragedy of wasted talent- minus this one, which strayed and lingered a while at misplaced arrogance. I suppose at the end of the day, left up to me, I wouldn't change much more. Either increased productivity from today, or like originally hoped, from further in the past on a job well done. Until then, I linger in the what ifs for just a while, then choose the post over the xbox, and at least think about a crunch. First step, I say...

Good Morning....

and afternoon, and evening. Out of the three hundred and seventy youtube videos sent to me, I'm glad I didn't autodelete this one. It put me in a better mood this morning.

In the nicetime, I'm going to attempt to Take6 and spread love today, and encourage you to do the same. Call your mama, and have a nice day...

There's No Point....
In staying in a bad mood. Don't do those things- we all have them- that only exacerbate the problem. Eat, get some sunshine, put on happier music, treat yourself to lunch, do that thing u felt bad about doing before. Also, take your own advice. That is all...

I need...
To work out.

Bicycle Day...
On April 19, 1943 Dr. Albert Hofmann intentionally ingested 250 µg of LSD, which he hypothesized would be at most a threshold level dose, based on his research on other ergot alkaloids. Surprisingly, the substance showed a potency orders of magnitude above almost any other substance known at the time, amounting to a much heavier dose than typically given in modern therapeutic use. After ingesting the substance Hofmann found himself struggling to speak intelligibly and asked his laboratory assistant, who knew of the self-experiment, to escort him home on his bicycle, since wartime restrictions made automobiles unavailable. On the bicycle ride home, Hofmann's condition became more severe and in his journal he stated that everything in his field of vision wavered and was distorted, as if seen in a curved mirror. Hofmann also stated that while riding on the bicycle, he had the sensation of being stationary, unable to move from where he was, despite the fact that he was moving very rapidly. Once Hofmann arrived home, he summoned a doctor and asked his neighbor for milk, believing it might help relieve the symptoms. Hofmann wrote that despite his delirious and bewildered condition, he was able to choose milk as a nonspecific antidote for poisoning.^[8] Upon arriving the attending doctor could find no abnormal physical symptoms other than extremely dilated pupils. After spending several hours terrified that his body had been possessed by a demon, that his next door neighbor was a witch, and that his furniture was threatening him, Dr. Hofmann feared he had become completely insane. In his journal Hofmann said that the doctor saw no reason to prescribe medication and instead sent him to his bed. At this time Hofmann said that the feelings of fear had started to give way to feelings of good fortune and gratitude, and that he was now enjoying the colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind his closed eyes. Hofmann mentions seeing "fantastic images" surging past him, alternating and opening and closing themselves into circles and spirals and finally exploding into colored fountains and then rearranging themselves in a constant flux. Hofmann mentions that during the condition every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a passing automobile, was transformed into optical perceptions. Eventually Hofmann slept and upon awakening the next morning felt refreshed and clearheaded, though somewhat physically tired. He also stated that he had a sensation of well being and renewed life and that his breakfast tasted unusually delicious. Upon walking in his garden he remarked that all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day".
History is so interesting...

Blue...
is what it is, but red is what is seen. Misunderstanding is my name for it, but what does that matter?

Happy Valentine's Day...
To me, especially. What better gift could a nerd like myself ask for than news that George Lucas is finally working on a new Star Wars movie and series. Love is in the air...

Perhaps I should be appreciative....
But god I hate work. Its not that I dont like doing things, or being productive- I just hate having to come to work. Why cant I just lie on a beach somewhere? Why cant I wake up when i want? Why cant I stay home and clean up when I want? Ugh...

Nora Roberts...
Ain't exactly taking up much space on my bookshelves, but I still would join her literary mob and burn pinche ladron, Cassie Edwards, at the stake- metaphorically. If the courts rule that her actions are anything less than blatant plagiarism, then I may reconsider a career in writing. This excerpt was all I needed to read:

Roberts wrote in "Savage Longings"(which I found offensively titled, but thats another story):

"The women who belonged to this society created ceremonial decorations by sewing quills on robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals. Snow Deer had told Charles that the Cheyenne women considered this work of high importance, and when properly performed, it was quite as much respected as were bravery and success in war among the men."

Edwards wrote in "Cheyenne Indians"(also poor taste):

"Of the women's associations referred to the most important one was that devoted to the ceremonial decoration, by sewing on quills, of robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals. This work women considered of high importance, and, when properly performed, quite as creditable as were bravery and success in war among the men."

Really, Cassie?
You didn't steal, but only got "influence" from Roberts' novel? As a novelist, I know that the talent stems from the creativity, so to rob her of not only that, but of her method as well, burns me up. Shame on you, Cassie Edwards. I hope you get paper cut...

Hey, Glenn Beck...
Shut up.

I like to think everyone needs a friend like me...
Lacking pride as much as realism allows, I'd say that they may even need a friend like me. No, I'm not the coolest(arguably), best looking, funniest, smartest, or even the most talented. I may not make the most money, have the coolest job, drive the coolest car, or even be the most generous, but I am sincere, and will tell you what to hear even when its not easy. I had to tell him, as a man and a friend, that the way he sniffed around K.S. all night last night was hard to watch. Maybe without the filter of inebriation, my perspective was off, but it sure seemed like he hung his testicles on the key holder and chased attention all night like a five year old girl. I hope, like I expect most people do, that will always have at least one friend to be whatever I am. Sometimes, being a friend ain't easy...

I've never been keen to New Year's resolutions...
But resolve itself can be a virtue. With what's allowed left, I resolve to do a great deal more, especially involving writing. "If it was written once, it was thought twice." Does that mean I haven't had a genuine thought-one worthy of repetition- since the twenty first of October? Scarier than Scary Kids Scaring Kids watching Scary Movie...

I used to think changing the world was an impossible task, but today was a good day, which cleared my minds pores. All you really need to do is cause a thought. If everyone thought just a little differently, the world would be a much different place...

Days...
Are categorized by signature events that occur during. Whatever the largest event of that day is, sets the tone for its memory, regardless of the other lesser events that precede or follow. For example: Today for me started out wonderfully. I woke up in a good mood, had plenty of relax time before going to work, and the weather was perfect. During some point in the past few hours, however, the tide has changed. My day just got real shitty real fast. I hope something big comes along later to wipe away the dominance of recent events. Its getting late, so hurry...

I got to work....
today and had sixty nine voice mail messages. (he he...)

A word on problems...
Problems will come- it's certain- but don't delay finding a solution by getting caught up in the blame game. Take the picture above for example: who's at fault? The dog, for peeing on the laptop? The laptop, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? The photographer, for standing idle on the sidelines? The owner for not taking good enough care of his pet? None of that matters, because a solution has nothing to do with whos at fault. The solution- moving the dog or the laptop- would save a laptop from being destroyed by urine(which has already damaged so many relationships), a friendship from being damaged by anger, a pet owner and electronics lover from pulling out his hair, and a puppy from suffering the embarrassment of being scolded for having an accident. Let that be a lesson to you.

Common Sense....
From the city of wind. ...Bush pushing lies; killers immortalized; we got arms but wont reach for the skies. Waiting for the Lord to rise, I look into my daughters eyes and realize I'ma learn through her. The messiah might even return through her. If I'ma do it, I gotta save the world for her...

I'm supposed to be working right now. I got mad work to do, but stuff on my mind too. I just had a pretty good conversation with my mother too, about life, love, sex, God, happiness(or the pursuit of), and happenings. If youre reading this and havent talked to your mother today, maybe you should. Yesterday, just past noon, Janice Jeffery, known as JJ to those who loved her, passed away. Its crazy. I mean, we knew it was coming(I guess we all know Death is coming for us all), but its still such a shock to lose someone close to you. When was the last time I saw her? It wasn't too long ago at all, probably just over a week. I knew she was dying, and I know I kissed her as always, but I never suspected it would be the last time. Just as before, I said my goodbyes as usual, and now I regret it. I normally am always subconsciously aware of impending doom(not in a paranoid way, just in a "were all gonna die" thing), but had I realized the significance of that moment; that it was going to be the last time we talked, embraced, said goodbye, or that it was my last opportunity to make her laugh, or smile, then maybe I would have chosen my words more carefully. If I had known then what I know now, I would have chosen my words more carefully. But I guess thats just the way it is. We never know, and there are no re-dos. I called my mama today. I didn't tell her I loved her, but we talked a good talk, and she knows. Im leaving now, but the sting of sudden loss will linger for a while, making me wonder which of these conversations will be my or their last. Will you wonder, at least once? Rest in Peace, JJ. I love you, mama...

Im a sucker for nostalgia...
I cant help it. Anything pleasurable from my youth seems to have stuck with me all these years. Its like that movie, Vanilla Sky. His Lucid Dream consisted of an array of powerful impressions from his life- A sad movie; a romantic album cover; an emotional painting. My living dream act the same way, connecting all things enjoyable subconsciously to my youthful memories. Hmm, makes the pressures of this non-existent, potential fatherhood I face increase exponentially. But in the meantime, and in between time I search for myself the same way we all do: by returning to the source- attempting to recapture a youth lost so long ago. And if we succeed? I guess Ill let you know when I arrive...

Questions...
Why do we still have cops on horses? Do criminals still ride horses, robbing stage coaches and such? Why did it take three days to get water to the Superdome? Why did the people roll over in the 04 presidential election? Why does the Kool-Aid Man bust through walls? Why is Mario allowed to take shrooms, go on a killing spree, then be lauded as a hero? Why is it so hot outside? Why do you need ID to get ID? If you had ID you wouldnt need ID. Why didnt the president know what the Voting Rights Act was? Why is it ok to impeach Clinton for lying about head, but not ok to impeach Bush over lying about Iraq? Why are gas prices so damn high? Why cant someone make a healthy cigarette? Why is sex only right when your married, when everybody knows married couples usually have crappy sex lives? Why is marijuana illegal, but cigarettes and liquor arent? Why arent more people upset about the Real ID Act? What was Jesus' real name, and why do people call him Jesus? What makes blue eyes better than brown eyes? Why are modern cars made of plastic, but cost more than their metal predecessors? Who reads this anyway? Why do people run so many red lights? Why is insurance mandatory, but so expensive and non tax deductable? Is that how you spell "deductible"? Why has so much crazy stuff been happening to me lately? Why do I waste my time and words here? Will black people ever receive reparations for slavery? Am I going to work out today? Am I going to hell? Why dont more Americans kiss when they greet? How much truth is behind all those 9/11 conspiracies? Why didnt the police ever find Tupac or Biggies killers? Were the killers trained professionals, or did they just not look too hard? Why do so many people still act like racism is no big deal? Will I ever marry? What do you wanna be when you grow up? How high would the basketball goals be on the moon, since everyone could dunk?

There is a song...
Stuck in my head. It goes...
I get down for my grandfather who took my mama/ made her sit in that seat when white folks didnt want us to eat./ At the tender age of six she was arrested for the sit in/ and with that in my blood I was born to be different./ Now, niggas cant make it to balance to choose leadership/ but we can make it to Jacobs and to the dealership./ Thats why I hear new music and I just dont be feeling it./ Racism still alive, they just be concealing it. / But I know, you dont want me in the damn club./ They even made me show ID to get inside of Sams Club./ I done did dirt then went to church to have my hands scrubbed:/ Swear Ive been baptized at least three or four times. / But in the land where niggas pray, shoot guns, and get paid,/ its gonna take a lot more than coupons to get us saved. / Like it take a lot more than do rags to get ya waves./ Now as sad as that day, my girl father passed away/ so I promised him Mr. Ramey, Im gonna marry ya daughter/and you know I gotta thank you for the way that she was brought up./ And I know I felt you smiling when you seen the car I bought her./ Then you sent tears from heaven when you seen my car get balled up, but/ I cant complain bout what an accident did to my left eye,/ cuz look what an accident did to Left Eye./ First Aaliyah, now Romeo must die?/ I know I got angels watching me from the other side...

Zimbabwe Funerals...

He lived his days of poverty
Inside a cardboard shelter
Inadequate of cover he
Did either freeze or swelter
Remembered he when he was ten
He had a scrap yard shack
It wasn't much, enough, but then
He suffered an attack
Policemen came and routed him
Destroyed his meager home
His chance at life now very slim
Just rubbish dumps to comb
Death did fight with him and win
As he knew that it would
No one can pay to place him in
A coffin made of wood

-Chris Higginson

Allow me to whine....
I try not to, normally, but indulge me. I have an ear ache. There is nothing profound about this post. It is neither artsy, thought provoking, nor poetic. I have a pain in the side of my head that screams "Im the juggernaut, bitch!", then proceeds to ruin my life. It lives in me, now, bringing flood after flood of activity to normally docile nerve endings, until they are as ravaged as post-Katrina New Orleans, and more bombed out and depleted than Afghanistan. It is a demon, as vast as the ocean, but with an impenetrable depth: the epitome of abyss. I can see it, hear it, feel it. He is darkness. A massive, shapeless, dark aura looms at the edge of my very consciousness. He has no name or shape, but is full of malice and personality. When I try to rest, he rises up, doubling in size, and roars with the ferocity of an angry lion, as if not having my utmost attention would spell his demise. I can sense the pleasure when I spit and thrash and curse my existence. This is what he wants. He knows his time is limited: that more from ego than pain I will see his end, and in an effort to prolong life, wants public recognition before the goodbye. You win, demon, now go back to hell...

Its been a week...
But I finally saw Ron Mueck. I wanted to see him when I was in NYC last time, but it cost fifty friggin bucks. Down here in TX, it was only ten! If the tour passes through your city, be sure to pay it a visit. Its so much better in sculpture than picture.
Also, go outside. That is all...