Evening, Ma'am!
Brighter sunshine evenings seen through crimsoned shrunken eyes. Bags set in and stand out towards the end. Weightful slumber on manufactured clouds. Nothingness.
Depress Sean
Dark shadow spiders creep back in slowly setting up shop and nestling in for the long haul. Hiding in the crevices where no one looks or dares to explore but are felt by the greater population. Puppet masters pulling strings and distorting the equilibrium of a barely balanced machine. Chaos and fire ensues.
Universal Remote
I spend a lot of time this time of year thinking about things that were or could have been. I spend time but not effort on thinking. Actually, quite the opposite. I spend all my time thinking, but all my efforts on not thinking. I wish I could turn it off. Just for a month or two per year. Just kinda hit pause for a bit.
My own personal remote control to the universe. I wonder what type of batteries it takes. Probably something ridiculously hard to find like a AA in the size format of a AAA.
If anyone could invent it, or at least successfully steal the idea from someone who has, it would be Elon Musk. If he was still alive, I would have said Steve Jobs. In his prime. But he's not alive. He died of cancer. Even the top .1% of the 1% aren't safe from that, huh? We all die at some point.
Fun fact of the day, Steve Jobs's birthday is the same as mine.
See what I did there? I said his birthday was the same as mine, instead of my birthday is the same as his. That shows that I, whether subconsciously or not, put myself above him in the hierarchy of shared birthday dates. He matched me. I didn't match him. He wiped right on me.
This was a good day
We had a very nice day last Sunday.
We went to church, that wasn’t a great part because of the sermon, but it was later explained to me by Justeen what the pastor actually meant to convey, but instead doing it rather poorly.
That was followed up by lunch back home and heading out to downtown Fredericksburg to find some trails. The girls were hit-or-miss about it at the beginning, but once we got out there, it was nice. We ran into a few people on the trails and tried to avoid them so we and them can enjoy ourselves.
The girls found a cool homeless guy’s teepee, some good walking sticks, and dick pics drawn on rocks. You know…nature.
But everyone really seemed to enjoy themselves and asked if we could do more of the same in the coming days and weeks and months and years.
That’s a win in my book.
Mischief. Mayhem. Soap
He's staring at me
The man from the movie poster
And the lights are shining through my eyes
Mischief. Mayhem. Soap
It reads me like the caution label
On this bottle of Asprin
No matter where I go his eyes are there
And they are almost like yours
Filled with haunting sighs of relief
Mischief. Mayhem. Soap
It speaks to me like the words
Of my kindergarten play
Even between closed eyes, I vision that face
Mocking my cries to a pillow named "why"
Mischief. Mayhem. Soap
Swerve, switch paths and go upstream.
Headlights piercing our eyes,
Shish kabobs come to mind.
Raining fear, sweating water, seeing life, while dead.
Blaring noise of caution, fading to your left, your right. Dead then…
Resurrected. Eyes intact. Dry. Alive.
Speeding mass is not meant to stop so quickly.
Crushed beer cans, trash compactors, Wrinkled metal.
Flipped pancakes, overturned cars, French chefs, pan in hand.
Rains pain, tears are spilled, blood rolls down their faces.
Smoke crawls towards the sky, the black rubber donuts still dancing in place, pirouettes eternal.
They have let go…for now.
I can’t let go…
You can’t let go…
We cAn’t leT go…
EverYthi ng
M ust
Be
Co ntro lled
And perfect.
Each No and one every can single control aspect of this life thing must called b e life… controlled…
A Jumble Of Words?
Yes.
Controlled?
No.
Makes sense?
Yes.
Is it life?
No. It’s writing, created from life.
Have you let go?
I don’t know. I didn’t know I had control in the first place…
Why don’t you take control?
Of what? Life? Can’t.
Don’t you see?
Be free. Let go. Live life…
Life is full of surprises…
Eat. Sleep. Live.
Look carefully, and you will find.
That life is full of surprises.
Just like this senseless stringing together of letters, sounds, pictures, and colors.
Everything’s got a place, a meaning, a reason.
Or does it?
Yes…I realize this is hard to read, hard to understand, but that is life, is it not?
Why..yes..yes it is…
Unrealistic world peace
I have no idea why people parple on about world peace, love, and harmony quite so much - it makes no sense to me at all. the way I see it, we're human, right? in the broader scheme of things we're mammals..etc..
ok
the balance of our brilliant blue planet is defined by the evolution of all its inhabitants; animal, vegetable and mineral.
yes?
evolution does not occur without competition.
agreed?
so having summitted the food chain, where's the competition? within us, within our species. we should be taking microbes a whole lot more seriously, but you know they're just these teeny tiny things that don't look like a noble foe when you face them with your armor all burnished and your silver sharp sword.
got it?
turtles and duck tales
you know, i am not a vegetarian, but i don't think i've ever thought about eating turtles, not even a little bit, because how could you eat this animal? it pretty much just sits there and does not bother anyone. plus, they have the ability to craft their own natural defense mechanisms, out of rubber bands and tin foil. how could you cut up and cook and eat that ability? i couldn't.
plus i heard they are tough and hard to cook correctly. so, turtle, you shall live to see another day.
i used to like making collages. i used to waste hours and hours at work making collages on the photocopier, wasting valuable toner and paper, but more importantly, wasting time that i was paid for. i always thought it was awesome how before 5:00, the goal is to move as slowly as possible and spend as much time doing things as you can, and after 5:00, GET HOME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. GET. HOME. YOU. ARE. WASTING. VALUABLE. TELEVISION. TIME. DUCK. TALES. IS. ALMOST. OVER. i used to work in a place called "dublin" which is a suburb of columbus, and it is mind-bogglingly intense. you wouldn't think a little suburb with office buildings and carefully manicured lawns and rich families would be so insane. haha, just kidding, of course you would think that. that is the first thing that you would probably think, actually.
before 4:30 (okay, so I never stayed until 5 at work, because screw that) the roads are relatively calm. but as soon as the clock hits maybe 4:29, the roads get instantly clogged with sport vehicles and minivans, people just racing each other to get home. these office dudes and career ladies seriously race down these tiny office-park roads at 50 miles an hour and cut each other off so they can race down the interstate some more. it is the dumbest thing ever. when they get home they are just gonna yell at their family and watch television. sometimes i tried yelling at them, "YOU CAN BUY DUCK TALES ON DVD. JUST GO HOME SLOWER" but you know how it is.
fun fact: you don't have to wash your pants very often. no one notices if you dont. it's true. you really don't have to wash your pants. i once had a job for six months and i wore the same pair of pants the whole time. they were just black flat-front pants. i might have washed them a couple of times, but, you know, maybe not. whenever you do something like that, there is always an internal reasoning, and usually, it's like "hey, pay me more, and then i'll wash my pants."
or "if you pay me more, i won't take two-hour lunch breaks and forget to note it on my time card." or "if you pay me more, i won't tip off stockholders that the company is falling way short of expected earnings, causing your stock price to plummet." you know, stuff like that. you can usually justify anything with this mechanism. especially if you work for apple, who made thirty billion dollars (NOT A TYPO OR EXAGGERATION) last quarter. if i worked for them, i'd be walking around with my shirt off, crapping in the hallway, and charging bentleys to my corporate card, explaining it with "hey, you made thirty billion bucks in the past three months. pay me more and i'll stop crapping in the hallway and put my shirt back on."
what about the bentley? well, you guys made thirty billion bucks last quarter, so i'm keeping the bentley, you dicks.
i want to go out of this world the way I came in, fat and squinty. i will just sum this one up by saying that the worst thing in the world is an ugly baby. well, actually, that's close. the worst thing in the world is an ugly baby who won't stop crapping in the hallway until you pay it more.
Tree People
Thomas perched on a stool in front of the bar, idly watching people eating bees on some new show on TV. He silently wished someone would talk to him so that he wouldn't have to order a drink.
His reverie was interrupted by the stool next to him being pulled back and a human body occupying it. He looked to his left to see an attractive young woman. She had cute, short brown hair and was smiling at him.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Emily. Emily Birch."
"Oh, hi," he replied. "I'm Thomas. Elm."
"Thomas Elm, huh? We're both tree people!"
"Oh, shit," he said. "You had to say it, didn't you?"
"What? What did I say?" She looked at him bewilderedly.
"Things could have gone so well!" he cried as twigs began to sprout from his head. "I could have bought you a drink!"
"What are you talking about? What-" Her sentence was cut off as white bark crept over her mouth.
"Oh, fucking hell," said the bartender, and walked out back to get the ax.