Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
For there to exist the finite.
The infinite must exist. For the infinite to exist, there must be a full grasp of the finite. Like black and white, like dicks and whores, One must always exist with the other.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
I am no longer farting, but instead need to poop.
Now I am not usually one to make a mention of the timings of my bowel movements but here I am empty screen at hand while the cursor blinks maniacally. WRITE its screaming, WRITE.
Where does poo come from mommy? Well it seems to originate right underneath the ribs and just above the pelvic region. Thundering rumbles rippling up a vacant chest only to send chills to an otherwise heated spine. Blup. Blup.
The bubbles rise above the trashing sea of acid only to float momentarily before they collapse in a graceful surrender. Sundering balls existing only for moments before exploding into sound.
Now to be completely honest, this movement is not unlike the many which have preceded it but somehow it has compelled me to write this non-nonsensical ramble.
So there.
Next topic: Elephants, the mysterious loggers.
Where does poo come from mommy? Well it seems to originate right underneath the ribs and just above the pelvic region. Thundering rumbles rippling up a vacant chest only to send chills to an otherwise heated spine. Blup. Blup.
The bubbles rise above the trashing sea of acid only to float momentarily before they collapse in a graceful surrender. Sundering balls existing only for moments before exploding into sound.
Now to be completely honest, this movement is not unlike the many which have preceded it but somehow it has compelled me to write this non-nonsensical ramble.
So there.
Next topic: Elephants, the mysterious loggers.
The arthritis, it burns.
My knees hurt and my gray hair is starting to wilt. I suspect the rains will come earlier than usual this year. Do you remember many moons ago when it poured relentlessly on this city? 28 DAYS IN A ROW! Oh what a time it was! Kids jumping in puddles and the swing sets roared with tired sounds.
If only I could live once again in those fruitfull days of hoodies, great dress and rock and roll! Oh what fun! Melancholy girls littered the pavement while tattooded skin and blue barbed helmets perspired in the crying mist. This was the age of kings my friend!
Granville was teeming with partying young hoodlums and commercial was actually bellowing with interesting people! At every twist and turn there remained great adventure still to be found! Bums littered the doorsteps of art galleries and junkies named Bob occasionally asked me for money in exchange for harmonic renditions of overplayed sonatas. This was a city where grammatical errors were not seen as big deals, and No5 Orange was still the #1 hotspot for gangland executions.
Oh those were the days. The olympics were upon me then. Glossy lights and boys in Ed Hardy tee-shirts roamed the streets prouncing about in jovial moods. Perhaps it was just a simpler time. A momentary lapse of infinity where no game was needed to date the unsuspectingly beautiful girls of Vancouver. Where prissy wanna be gangsters thought they owned a town where in most cases they would be laughed at in every turn.
Oh the memories.
But now I sit alone in my chair while crows squawk in bemusement at the shattered wanderings of a lazy elf. Oh to be young again.
If only I could live once again in those fruitfull days of hoodies, great dress and rock and roll! Oh what fun! Melancholy girls littered the pavement while tattooded skin and blue barbed helmets perspired in the crying mist. This was the age of kings my friend!
Granville was teeming with partying young hoodlums and commercial was actually bellowing with interesting people! At every twist and turn there remained great adventure still to be found! Bums littered the doorsteps of art galleries and junkies named Bob occasionally asked me for money in exchange for harmonic renditions of overplayed sonatas. This was a city where grammatical errors were not seen as big deals, and No5 Orange was still the #1 hotspot for gangland executions.
Oh those were the days. The olympics were upon me then. Glossy lights and boys in Ed Hardy tee-shirts roamed the streets prouncing about in jovial moods. Perhaps it was just a simpler time. A momentary lapse of infinity where no game was needed to date the unsuspectingly beautiful girls of Vancouver. Where prissy wanna be gangsters thought they owned a town where in most cases they would be laughed at in every turn.
Oh the memories.
But now I sit alone in my chair while crows squawk in bemusement at the shattered wanderings of a lazy elf. Oh to be young again.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A good sandwhich.
Consists of the following:
Mayo: The Miracle kind.
Chips: All dressed and crushed into bite size.
Relish: Green and sweet baby.
Beets: Sliced and thin.
Bread: Chiabatta or if you are poor, a hotdog bun.
Mix and fucking enjoy.
*Beets optional.
Mayo: The Miracle kind.
Chips: All dressed and crushed into bite size.
Relish: Green and sweet baby.
Beets: Sliced and thin.
Bread: Chiabatta or if you are poor, a hotdog bun.
Mix and fucking enjoy.
*Beets optional.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Click and Clack.
I find it sort of amusing that I feel the need to give an interview to try and explain the whirling chaos that surrounds my life. Hell, its probably a pretty solid reflection on the state of the world in which we live when a discussion with a single soul can't be enough. I hate to go off on a emo rant about the decrepit society and mass ignorance but lets face it, it is an interesting topic to ponder. I am a very happy dude (most of the time), BUT:
*Insert sad face*
Why can't I find comfort in just being able to spill my guts by my lonely self onto a blank canvas? Why is it I feel the need to have another party sitting across from me who HAS to ask me questions to reach the pits of my soul? Why can't those questions be asked BY myself TO myself? Maybe that goes back to our evolutionary roots. Maybe thats how sociology forced itself into our biology. Maybe thats why relationships exist in the first place. Just a mechanism to better explore our own personal universe.
Perhaps we can never solely exist for ourselves because we HAVE to exist for another. Atleast thats what my science is starting to tell me.
Mmmm. Random rants is a good thing at 12:02 in the morning.
*Insert sad face*
Why can't I find comfort in just being able to spill my guts by my lonely self onto a blank canvas? Why is it I feel the need to have another party sitting across from me who HAS to ask me questions to reach the pits of my soul? Why can't those questions be asked BY myself TO myself? Maybe that goes back to our evolutionary roots. Maybe thats how sociology forced itself into our biology. Maybe thats why relationships exist in the first place. Just a mechanism to better explore our own personal universe.
Perhaps we can never solely exist for ourselves because we HAVE to exist for another. Atleast thats what my science is starting to tell me.
Mmmm. Random rants is a good thing at 12:02 in the morning.
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