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 |   My fourth blog. Amazing yet disconcerting. Don't worry; this'll go away in a year or so. |
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First there was "I'm Studying You"  ...then there was "Who Do I Think I Am??" . Finally, we reached "Who do I still think I am??" .Until now. Welcome to the Buffalo in your soul...       A THREE-TIME CHAMPION OF THE "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" !   |
 "You have a huge responsibility today, bloggers! You're going to make the playlist for the FIRST ever party in outer space. Yes, I'm serious. Have fun.  "The non-stop party people are at it again, y'all! Look at us go...fresh off yesterday's house party madness, we're takin' it now to the final frontier: Outer Space. Charlie ~  is serious, and I believe him...we're not representin' ourselves, or our respective countries, or WDC. Naw man...we're representin' all of humanity here. That ain't somethin' to toy around with...if there's intelligent life out there and we happen to come in contact with it, how are you gonna feel when their lingering image of us human beings up to this point has been french fries, selfie sticks, and Kim Kardashian's total-eclipse-of-the-moon-sized ass? I'm pretty sure that when us citizens of the world wonder if aliens exist, all we're doing is sending them a signal their advanced radar technology picks up that pushes them even farther away from Earth...sorta like that person whose phone number you only keep in your phone's contacts just so you can properly ignore their call. Wait until the day we find out we're the ugly, purple-haired aunts of the galaxy who smell like they gargled a pack of unfiltered Camels for lunch and washed them down with a pint of bourgeois gin...Hollywood has yet to discover how horrible and awkward that kind of Doomsday War Of The Worlds scenario is gonna look (hint: we're the monsters). But that's probably something I should figure out how to squeeze into a "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" prompt some other time. It's funny...when I first saw this prompt, I started making a list of songs I didn't want to use. No obvious tunes that everyone associates easily with space, which meant no "Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys, nothing associated with Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, and definitely not that song from the movie Armageddon (because fuck Aerosmith). Then I started listing songs I thought would fit, and they were mostly pretty obvious as well. And I'm not judgin' anyone else putting out their playlists, and it's cool when we all have a duplicate track or two, but if we're all pluckin' tunes from the same thought processes then how fun is that?  And by the way, I've seen a couple people complain mention that "a ten song playlist isn't enough music", and at first I wholeheartedly agreed...but the more I thought about it, it hit me: sure, we might be getting judged for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place prizes, but it's not about that. We're working together! Five people yesterday submitted I don't even know how many songs...Elle - on hiatus  had three different kinds of playlists, and ~Minja~  listed Billboard magazine's Top 1000 tracks from the 90's, which makes my challenge requirement-fulfilling ten seem like an underachieving disgrace in comparison. I have to step my game up! I have to dig deeper into the stacks. It's not about competition; it's about combining all our knowledge and powers so we don't look like fools when the Extra-Terrestrials invite us over to their "Welcome To The Neighborhood" shindig on the Milky Way. At least, until one of us has too many cocktails, and I try using the ring around Saturn to propose to somebody light years out of my league. Ok, well, I've said enough for now. Time to let the music do the talking while I attempt to talk over it, only to find out the hard way that gravity doesn't just apply to weight or mass.  1) "Blast Off!" by Weezer Twenty years ago, Weezer recorded and abandoned a whole album intended to be a sci-fi rock opera using outer space as a metaphor for what it's like to be a successful touring musician. All I'm suggesting by its inclusion here is that it's as good a song as any to jumpstart the NASA Space Party Shuttle.2) "Set Phasers To Stun" by Taking Back Sunday We have to maintain the high energy, and we need phasers in case we have to defend ourselves from hostile forces of opposition...although the sarcasm reeking from a line like "So pace the stairs of your apartment like it's where you want to be" should be plenty enough to remind the haters that we're in space, bitch...and you're not.3) "Pump Up The Volume" by MARRS Old-school futuristic classic, right? Bet y'all forgot about this joint from '87, didn't you? Any radio station that played "club music" on Friday and Saturday nights played this at least once during their program for at least the next ten years. At least, that's what I was told . The Rakim sample, and breakdown at around the 1:50 mark, are my personal favorite moments here.4) "Planet Telex" by Radiohead Ok, the sound quality of this video is terrible (I used to have a much better recording on cd...thanks and rest in peace, Kazaa), but there's a purpose to it. Thom Yorke sings and plays his guitar like a maniac, drummer Phil Selway looks like he could hold his beat through a 200mph windstorm, and the shots of guitarist Jonny Greenwood doing damn near nothing and looking bored as fuck on a chaotic stage before the first chorus kicks in are the perfect images of a master dissertation on what's left of the world once corporations have ruined it. Will we one day be forced to flee toward space, and will we look back at the planet stoically as it explodes, knowing we might've been able to prevent it? Or are we all of the generation that's finally ready to watch everything burn? Bonus points if the video gives you a seizure.5) "Rocket Skates" by Deftones Track no. 5...we're right in the middle of everything. The high point. The heaviest of our party artillery is coming out. This ratchets up the emotion we were searching for five minutes earlier, and lets it out in blasts of wounded glory. We've never had this much fun in destruction before, but we've never been this far from Earth either. 6) "Bring Back Pluto" by Aesop Rock Settling in but still unsettled. There's turbulence in the solar system because we're not sure if we should be adjusting for eight planets or overcompensating for a ninth. I suppose the confusion is what we get for convincing ourselves that mankind is superior to unknown alien life forms. 7) "In The Meantime" by Spacehog But let's not forget why we're here, while we're here. We came to party, and party is what we'll do. We'll worry about everything else once we get to wherever it is we're going. 8) "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band I've been called a lot of things in this life, but none of them has ever been Maurice or Space Cowboy. Whatever has gotten us this far is wearing off...are we having a good time? Or will we play our music in the sun? 9) "Us And Them" by Pink Floyd It's a contemplative state of full relaxation. Life. The universe. Our decisions. We're all just laying on the floor, flat on our backs, looking up at the glass ceiling and taking in the sights for what they are...asking each other questions, without making a sound. Sharing our fears. For everything we know, there are millions and millions of things we have no explanation for. Existentialism. Why are we even here, when we don't know where here is? Will we look back on this day and ask ourselves why we've come to outer space? Or will we have forgotten Earth completely, as if we're scared to offend our new lives by keeping open trails to the past?10) "Starpainters/Vancouver Divorce" by Gordon Downie I wanted to end with "Starpainters" for its beautiful way of saying goodnight though not necessarily goodbye...but the vocals are mixed so terribly low in the original recording, and there just aren't many great live versions of it on YouTube. Thankfully, and perhaps maybe, we have existed to be reminded that we've found the end of the world of course, but it's not the end of the world, of course.There you have it...ten more songs to add to today's party. Not perfect by any means, but suitable enough at least for my tastes. And besides, between all of us in the "Invalid Item" we're bound to have almost every genre and situation covered (although no one did end up going with Chumbawamba yesterday, did they?  ). Alright...time to see what everyone else's idea of a space party is. Peace, up to the stars we go, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Ahh, we've all been to a house party, right? Let's get warmed up with an easy category. Make me the best possible house party playlist, and don't forget to add commentary about your picks! I can't judge a list of songs without your blogging skills added to it. "What's up you guys! Y'all know it's "Invalid Item" , and there are approximately 3,867 different events going on throughout WDC that coincide with it. It's so big that even a slacker-ass slacker like myself is hosting/judging two of the contests. In all my years here I think this is the most I've ever been involved in all the goings-on and whatnot, between the stuff I normally do and kinda sorta do and now this. It's pretty wild. It almost feels like a New Years' Eve television party broadcast with cameras stationed all over the place... "And now we're gonna head back to Charlie ~ in the midwest, where he's standing by with another list of house party anthems! What's up, Charlie?" while some meathead in the back has his face painted and is flashin' the ol' devil horns and shouting "Central High football rules!!" (and it totally does, by the way). And out I come, straight up Dick Clarkin' on your tv screen like some sort of marriage between American Bandstand and Behind The Music (if you don't know, ask your parents). This might not be the ultimate list; I won't kid or insult you and say it is. It could very well not even be my ultimate list...I might stumble back over this assemblage of talent and be like "Why didn't you include so-and-so, or this or that?" I also knew if I came up with three or four songs, I'd probably come up with thirty or forty. These are just songs that I know I've partied to. Mostly in houses. And if I happen to be anywhere in public that one of these songs starts playin' today, I might break out a house party of my own on the spot. Which gets really fun and potentially awkward if you're waiting in the checkout line at the drugstore and you kinda have a limp and can't dance well anymore.I've tried to assemble this in the best order as possible (without making too much of an all-day project out of it...I'm good at fretting over playlists and track orders like Carson Daly screws up relationships with hot actresses by being Carson Daly [call me, Jennifer Love Hewitt ]), but you know most house parties start with just a few people and the radio on as ambient background noise before suddenly exploding into some kind of frenzy once someone who knows anything about music shows up and finds the stereo knobs. That said, I'll shut up now and get into my selections (with the fair, standard NSFW warning, of course).1) "Body Movin'" by the Beastie Boys The people might've started showin' up an hour ago, but they're just gettin' socially lubed up and waitin' for that one song where they can start dancin' and not stop for awhile. And I'm nominating this song, because sometimes all you need is a beat and a catchy chorus to get the masses' asses shakin'.2) "Song 2" by Blur Yes, I know it's the classic second song trope, but if your party isn't in a full-blown frenzy by the time the first chorus kicks in, then your party officially sucks. About twenty people in the United States know who Blur is and what the verses in "Song 2" are, but everyone knows the whoo-hoo!! because I'm pretty sure it's on the US Citizenship Exam For Foreigners and has been printed on the backs of every American's birth certificate since 1846.3) "Scenario" by A Tribe Called Quest Another song by a group you know next to nothing about, but damn near every time someone mentions the word "scenario" in casual conversation, you find yourself with an urge to jump up and down in place yelling "Here we go, yo!". And then out comes Busta Rhymes from some kind of Brooklyn cave like he actually is a dungeon dragon, just so you and your crew can lose their collective shit in that moment.4) "Party Over Here" by Atmosphere A house party song about...wait for it...an actual house party (and if you think I'm puttin' any of this nonsense on my list, you're readin' the wrong blog). You've seen all these people before. You might even be one of these people. But you don't care, because there's that crazy chaotic noise goin' on next to that chunk-o'-funk bassline, and all the sudden you're pointin' at your girl like Party over here! Fuck you over there! and almost actually believin' it.5) "The Rockafeller Skank" by Fatboy Slim You could argue for any uptempo Fatboy Slim song being on this list. You could also probably throw on You've Come A Long Way, Baby and rock a party with just that. But if you want the wildest night of your life summed up in about four minutes, drop the video edit of this cut and your biography is on its way.6) "The Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats It's bound to happen at some point...a drunk girl is gonna stumble over to the stereo, all bitchy like, to announce "This music sucks!" as she starts throwin' cds like she's doin' 85 down the I-90 after hearing that the New Kids On The Block just broke up. And if you're lucky, she'll end up here and not, say, some sad-ass country song that reminds her of her first true love who dumped her because she wouldn't put out in eighth grade. Trust me, you want her to end up here, even if she's ten times more annoying after half a wine cooler.7) "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners And chances are, that same drunk girl is only capable of reading two numbers: 8, and 0...which means she found someone's secret I  The '80's disc stashed away where it can only be found by using the radar of a drunk girl. But no one cares, because suddenly everyone remembers when MTV used to actually play music, and twenty seconds of this song are wasted reminiscing about that before giving way to what the hell does "Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye" even mean??" 8) "Brick House" by The Commodores You think the party might be winding down, and you're ready to take a break and get some fresh air, but you hear the horns start hornin' and it's all you can do to get yourself back into the dance position. Fun fact: Before Lionel Richie was just some spoiled reality show strumpet's famous rich dad, he was Lionel Richie, a Commodore. Go on, enthrall your friends with that one, on me, no charge. 9) "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC This is it...the penultimate song here and definitely the one that will get a lot of shit broken in your house if it isn't already because at this point in the night everyone thinks they know how to dance to it even though it's not a song to dance to. This is where the messes truly begin. The drinks get spilled. There's a pizza slice-shaped stain on the wall. And you don't know it yet, but you're about to hook up with the second-ugliest person holdin' up the building in about fifteen blurry minutes. 10) "What I Got" by Sublime And hopefully, unless you wound up makin' a baby, this is what you're likely to remember most about the night...for some, the house lights are about to come on; for others, maybe a different kind of party is about to begin, but this is what it's all about. You'll take a second or two and try and soak it all in. These are your people, and this is what you love the most about them. Moments like this, where everyone's singin' along, loud and out of key and nobody gives a fuck. It could be three or eight or twenty of you, and you'll all share the same group hug, and swear it'll never end...like my man Winkz, who was barely a few years old when Sublime came to an abrupt halt, loves to quote: "Life is Too $hort so love the one you got 'cuz you might get run over or you might get shot." Truer words may never have been spoken.There it is. I'll hang up now and listen. Feel free to share your concerns...since the last paragraph I've already thought of three more songs I've forgotten about that could've ended up on this list, so I better quit now and post this up before I change my mind. Peace, too hype, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2059438 Unavailable **  "What did you do in September? Did you have any writing goals or other goals? Do you have any writing goals or other goals for October? What do you like most about the month of October?"Boom shaka laka! It's October first and foremost, the 1st, and I feel comfortable blogging again because I'm not writing prompts or anything. So what's up, you sexy people? I have nearly twenty tabs open in my browser, which has already crashed once, so I better do this in hurry because I'm open for business. I have no clue how this entry is gonna turn out, which is part of the beauty of only writing like four entries in the month before...I haven't established a pattern of any kind. My problem, not yours. Let's begin then. My September? It was a mess of anxiety tinged with an unfamiliar love for humanity within my hermitage, and it ended with a small marker of hope encased with my therapist telling me basically (these are his words, not mine) I have no purpose in life right now. And that's kinda accurate. I just am, searching for some kind of deeper meaning...or any meaning. What my purpose for being here is. Lots of existential questions. The upside and the follow-thru. Lots to work on. But I'm here, and that's always a good start...at least that's what I figure. I had my state-sanctioned disability appointments in Syracuse, which I was terrified about (see: "This one's about importance, imagination/humor, and music." ). Sure, let's stick a kid with anxiety issues on a bus to a city he's never been to, and let him figure out how to take two more buses in that city to see a psychologist that he's too numb and freaked out to speak to, and then see another doctor who will give him a physical that will basically say "He can walk and turn his head and move his limbs", even though most of the limbs don't function as well as they should anymore, so he's good. Brains of spaghetti, only I'm sure to be denied of any SSI/SSD benefits...basically a waste of time and money from the state. Then the decision to appeal will happen, and I'll likely get approved, and have to jump through more flaming hoops, and all I want is the desire to be myself like I was five or ten years ago without the meltdowns and with the ability to perform all the functions I used to be able to do like normal human being do every day. And not be judged for what I can no longer do. And not feel stressed. Don't fault me for feeling helpless at times, when I know I'm not capable of being some superstar employee willing to risk everything, including my health, for a company that doesn't appreciate the contributions. The days of willingly "breaking my back" for someone are over, as my body can't physically withstand the abuse anymore and my mind can only accept that so much of it is going to waste in the wrong directions. So in that regard, fuck this September. With the ease of a bus token-studded dildo infected with the hatred of everyone whose job it is to make life manageable. It's easy to catch the hate when it's more palpable to detect it. But not all of this month was a loss. I recovered some feelings. I know what it's like to love and to appreciate. My gratitude has always bubbled under the surface, and it sprung to a head briefly. Something to build on, as forgotten tendencies can be. I managed two poems as well, because the urge to write anything was strong even though the will to create anything like a blog entry wasn't there to my satisfaction (so yes, it was a down month for me). I stopped setting goals awhile ago, because I wasn't hitting them (even if they were attainable)...but I wrote "Bangaround" for Lyn's a sly fox  's "Love Shouldn't Hurt Poetry Contest" (a cause I strongly stand behind), and after reading George Orwell's 1984 I busted through with "Goodnight America" - a slightly political, slightly angry rant of...things. Quick reads, really, because I don't want to bore or trouble anyone, but they had to come out. So maybe my September has sort of been learning how to deal with the public again. I did it for years, and I almost think I could do it more; the only problem is that I'm afraid if I keep doing it, I'll end up worse off than now. But that's another story for another time...this is supposed to be my happy refuge, and dammit I'm not gonna ruin a good thing any longer!!  And the rest of this prompt...what I like about October?  I have a soft spot in my heart for dumb girls dressed in oversized sweaters and tight leggings who claim autumn is the "best time of the year" because "it's fall, duh!"...and then they trip over themselves trying to prove how "fall" they are by walking around in silly boots with a scarf tied in some ridiculous bow around their neck and no jacket. I like a lot of things about October- leaves changing colors, football season is in full swing, hockey season is around the corner- but if the person in charge of the universe can just take me away from everyone else's bullshit and plant me in a place where it's always 72 degrees and sunny, I promise I'll try to be a little happier and tolerant. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm good for it. I'll even tax what's left of my body a little more for it as long as I don't have to consider what another shitty winter will bring.   "October 1st is World Vegetarian Day! Are you a vegetarian? Would you ever try being a vegetarian? Why or why not?"Nope. I respect life in all forms and all that, but I also know what pleases me...and sometimes, it's a belly fulla meats. Not that I need to justify it to anyone, but listen...if a goddamn animal in the wild had a chance to eat the fuck outta me and my fat ass, it would. I'm game. I'm not long for wilderness survival...I don't hunt, I don't carry a gun, and I generally don't give a shit. I'll do my best to defend myself with some kind of karate kicks learned from whiskey-fueled nights of solitude spent hovering over a television while cheap dollar store DVDs of kung-fu flicks played, but dammit, my survival instincts are way different than the wildebeast waiting for me should I ever step out beyond past nature's velvet ropes. But y'all know that'll never happen. My wilderness days are pretty much over, save for rare occasions...and even then, if I'm that far in, I'll admit my defeat. Bears? Peace, I'm out...until it gets me (and I can't convince it to cuddle with Charlie ~ and I). Luckily, I'm smarter than the average bear .So there. I'm not vegetarian because neither are the animals who would consider me dinner.  Besides, I love beef and bacon way too much. That's not to say I've never thought about it though. I did at one point in my life do some research about becoming a vegetarian...to the point that I was almost all for it. I couldn't bring myself to it. I know those tiny animals suffer so so much, but it's for the sake of being so so tasty. And especially now, when you're poor as fuck like me, any chance you get to eat a grilled animal steak that isn't canned albacore tuna (c'mon man, I still have some limits, and "chunk light tuna" sucks ass) is a treat like you can't believe. I'm not even gonna pretend like my always insisting on "well done" steaks or burgers makes it better, or that less than "well done" makes me not destroy porcelain cleanliness. I figure that's my payback. Shitty food gained from inhumane means equals ridiculous results from the back end of the digestive process. That's karma, slicing into your life...sooooo good, yet sooooo not good. And I know it wouldn't kill me to make the sacrifice...all the "let the animals live in peace and harmony" and whatnot. I'm down with that. I'm all for it. But I get pissed when I go to CVS and they're out of beef jerky, and that's the only reason why I went there besides the cute girl that is nice to me when I go there. Poor girl...don't be nice to me! I'm buying jerky and flavored water! You're doing your job! Just do your job! Fuck vegetarianism. Fuck the public. I just need a button I can press that gives me food without hassles, smiles, or expectations.  Why is this too much to ask for? I won't even get into how I once (recently) thought I was allergic to lettuce. Some painful lessons are often best to keep to self. <insert poop emoticon here>  "October 1. Autumn, Halloween. Do you decorate for autumn and Halloween? Do you enjoy autumn? I want to know."Naw man. Sorry Megan. Quite bluntly, I don't decorate. Not for autumn; not for anything. Where I live now isn't conducive for decorating. Just a small room, and no one else in my building cares either way. I'm kinda glad about that...it makes my not giving a shit feel less important. Less things I have to concern myself with. I'm not trying to outdo my neighbors with some crazy scheme of elaborate spookiness, like my ex and her kids were into. There's just more important shit to worry about in life than whether the wreath on the front door is "Halloween enough". Dig? Even when I lived at 542 and had the run of the whole lower half of the building...it wasn't like I was gonna spook the fuck outta anyone. I was just too busy going to work or coming home and decompressing. If I had some extra scratch around trick-or-treat time I'd leave my light on, but no one came. More candy for me I guess, but back then I wasn't really a sweets eater either. Maybe someday I'll be back into it...the whole "decorating for holidays". I'm just...not now. Not for me. Next year might be different, and maybe I'll feel better about it. There's a chance that I could move into a different place, but I don't want to get my hopes up just yet. For now, it is what it is. I've never been one for decorating, and I've preferred to cede that to the ones who are.  The calendar is inevitable though. It's October, and that means it's only going to get shittier outside with the wind and the rain and eventually snow. And I hate it. Weather-wise, it was a good summer, and I wasted it, with being stupid fearful of the outside world and my indecisiveness. I miss the love of the autumn air, and the love it brings to people, but I know it also brings the death of many other living things. The bridge to winter. The things that once grew, that we can't get back. It was around this time of year two years ago that I was involved with patching up family relationships when I learned my uncle passed. I didn't know him well beyond what I knew of growing up with him around my grandmother's house; I learned a lot in the aftermath. A transitional time in the midst of a transitional time for myself. It makes me sad, because of everything I missed out on...because of what I left behind at the time. I had a dream about him last night. It was so weird. So...real, but not real. But I hate talking about dreams. And I know I try to be ol' "ha ha" guy and want to be funny or irreverent or whatever, but I always get a little solemn around this time of year anyway, personally. Things die out, things start anew. Anyway, I love this song, and as much as I want to be the fun guy at your party (and I will be, I promise...probably too much, and I have the scars to prove it), you won't play this because it'll make you cry. The album version is completely bonkers with the emotion and instrumentation, which is why I went with the stripped-down acoustic. Autumn's here.  Alright...let's ramp up the fun, shall we?  #Truth Guys, feel me on this. You know it's impossible trying to tell a woman- any woman- how you feel. Put your gender role assumptions aside for one goddamn minute, you John Wayne motherfuckers. You know you don't know shit. You can skin a horse and cook it for dinner, and that don't mean shit when it comes to complimenting your love interest on her...anything. The losingest battle. The uphill climb to nowhere. You love her, until you have to tell her , and she doesn't believe it. I saw this yesterday, and I was all nope about it, but the more I think about it, I'm kinda down with it. Basically, Facebook wants to turn your profile pic into a .gif . Sonuvabitch...how else could they make something so banal also be so freakin' cool? I'm already twirling in my head how I'm gonna stop myself from creeping people the fuck out.   And finally, some guy went all Peanuts on a bunch of television show characters, because he could. And because there's a Peanuts movie coming out. And I'm a fan of that. So I, uhhh, played along.  And it's terrible, because it doesn't look like me at all. I was limited with the traits, which you can find out for yourself on the website linked within the article I linked. I really hope that's the most disappointing part of a movie I probably won't see until it's on DVD in a bargain bin sometime in the long-time future of futures.See? There's fun in everything! Now, if you don't mind me, I'm gonna scurry on outta here and so I can legit find something positive I did today for myself and jot it down in a Moleskine for pinkbarbie. The first sentence might be "Took a nap." Until then for the rest of you, peace, all their hopes set, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| "The most important thing in your life...Has it changed over time or has it stayed the same? If you so wish, tell us what it is." What's up y'all? I'm just here to help push along the next 24 hours, most of which will be nerve-wracking and confusing, so don't mind me as I use you in an attempt to take my mind off some stuff and misplace emotions in different baskets for the time being. I'm looking at this prompt in two ways: the short term, and the long term. For me, the idea of something being "most important" is fluid, and can evolve based on situations. What we search for of importance today may not be the same a week from now, or a year from now...the idea of life today and life overall can be mutually exclusive. Take, for example, today and tomorrow. I need to try and get a good night's sleep, and get a start on that as early as I can, because I need to be up at 4:30am Tuesday morning. I need to remain calm and focused, because I'll be taking a bus to Syracuse from Cortland for two doctors' appointments. I tend to get nervous for doctor's appointments; I've been told before that I have "waiting room anxiety" which elevates my blood pressure, and I assume that's because I'm always worried that this might be the time they find something physically wrong with me. I've also never been on a trip like this to Syracuse (if I've been there before, it's only been to pass through on the way to somewhere else). Once I get to the Centro bus station, I'll have to take two more buses to get to my destination. I'm very apprehensive about this, mainly because I'm unfamiliar with anything that has to do with where I'm going. I'm not sure what the extent of each appointment will entail. Maybe a routine physical, and then a consultation with a mental health specialist? Or will they want to look further at my surgically repaired ankle also, and maybe determine why standing and walking still aren't the easiest things to do? I don't know the breakdown of the two appointments. All I know is they're for my disability claim, which I've been told by a few people will most likely be denied anyway, and I'll have to appeal the decision (which, again I've been told, is almost always successful). I'm compounding a lot of my biggest triggers into one big, giant clusterfuck of everything I try to avoid. Externally, it will look like I'm fine and everything's as normal as can be...but inside, I'm terrified; I don't know how else to explain it. There are approximately 1,867,392 things that can go wrong between now and this time tomorrow, most of which are absolutely out of my control but can still ultimately change the course of my future. I don't know how people survive this kind of stuff, but I'm about to find out. But anyway, that's what's most important for me, today, in the here and now. Come Wednesday, it'll be something else...most likely of lesser significance, or a lower priority. Whether we realize it or not, everything comes with degrees. Rankings. Status (or lack thereof). Perhaps it's good to have a certain idea of potential importance over time..."It's important for me to be content, no matter where I am." Let that be a good place to start, and hopefully never see where it ends. Maybe it'll keep moving back, the finish line just out of reach, so that happiness is always visible enough to never stop fighting to attain it, or the destination doesn't become more disappointing than the journey.  "'Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is.' - Francis Bacon. If you had to choose between having an imagination or a sense of humor which would you choose? Which is more important: an imagination or a sense of humor?"Maybe I'm overthinking this...or maybe this is harder to answer than it seems. Isn't anything possible through imagination? Isn't that where the genesis of everything is? I can imagine a sense of humor, and I can joke about imagination, so in reality aren't I really getting two for the price of one if I learn how to use one properly to generate the other? Is the weaker of the two still passable to some, even in a diluted sense? I look at myself in this prompt, and I'd like to think I was gifted with both a healthy sense of humor and a robust imagination; I don't know what I'd do with an absence of either one. I would've had to learn at some point which area I was more proficient in, and adapt my weakness to...well, I guess the word I'm stumbling into, is compensate. By logic then via this prompt, that would mean I was given the imagination as a means of making up for not being funny or finding humor in anything...were I to feel closer the need for consolation, it would've been the other way around. Either way, lighten up, Francis . Chances are, if you've only got the sense of humor or the imagination but not both, you're probably suffering internally from some sort of bigger psychological, psychopathic deficiency anyway, and no one else is wondering which of those two traits is your most dominant; they're trying to figure out the best way to avoid you at all costs.  Today in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , I posted this prompt: "Tell us about a certain memory that is triggered whenever you hear a specific song. Was the song actually playing at that moment, or is it something in the lyrics or the music itself that jogs your memory?" And I realize that it's a variation of a prompt I've seen a bunch of times in different groups. I may have to retire the "Music Monday" category, because I'm running out of ways to kill it  on its own.And for someone like me, who lives every day according to a different soundtrack as it is, picking out just one song that triggers a memory is hard because there's so many to choose from. I've been thinking about this off and on throughout the day, and nothing's coming to mind that separates itself from the other ideas. What I'm really trying to think of is that one big "Aha!" moment where suddenly a song comes on and everyone just looks around at each other like "Yep...this is happening right now!!"...everyone's got at least a couple of 'em, right? Somethin' better than dancin' with a brown-eyed girl to Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" or watching a house on fire from the top down during Bloodhound Gang's "Fire Water Burn" . Lemme think a little more...Ahhh yes. I may have referenced this event before, not for a song, but for Apple being totally shady as fuck regarding the songs played in shuffle mode during certain situations. A few years back I was dating a woman whose parents lived about a half hour or so away, and practically in a fancy-ass version of a log cabin in the middle of nowhere. I definitely don't think they lived on a road so much as it was just a plot of land with a trail to get to another set of trails to find their place. Anyway, we went to visit them one evening for who the hell knows why. It wasn't dinner, because we went there pretty late at night as it was...it may just have been for a bonfire, and for me to actually meet her folks. I don't know why else to be honest; it was probably ten years ago. But on the way home, probably 1am-ish, my iPod started playing songs as if it had its own nighttime, "spooky music in the dark middle of nowhere" playlist. Every song had a theme of night, sleep, or darkness. I even tried skipping a few songs, and still, songs that fit this category would come up. My girlfriend was half-asleep in the passenger seat, and I wasn't too sure of where I was or where I was trying to get to (other than home), which made the idea of imminent horror movie-style death more appropriate. I don't remember exactly all of the songs that came on at that time, but this one stands out as the one I most easily recall. Certainly not sonically frightening, but lyrically and in its visually dystopian bleakness it was not something I needed to hear at that moment as part of a larger soundtrack of maybe falling asleep at the wheel, or worse.   The above image is taken from a Facebook post made maybe last week or so by the RZA (leader of the Wu-Tang Clan). It's from the book The Tao Of Wu , which, if I can track down a local copy, might move up and become the next book on my TBR (to be read) pile. I used own it and have read it before, but it is pearls of wisdom like this I often forget and am in need of reminding myself of from time to time. It's often we speak from emotion first and thought second, when it should be the other way around.   I saw this comic while scrolling through Facebook this afternoon..."Pearls Before Swine" is one of my favorites, and this was particularly funny to me today because it sums up in three panels how I've mostly felt about relationships for nearly half of the last seven years or so, and maybe in general. It's a lot of work getting me out of my shell, almost to the point it no longer feels worth it, because as soon as I'm out I usually end up back inside longer, deeper, and more frustrated at myself for leaving in the first place. IDGAF level:  Elite. The Bills lost yesterday in a highly-anticipated game against the rival Patriots, which didn't stop me from playing keyboard warrior all afternoon on Facebook and Twitter. I tried my best to hurl insults and make inappropriate remarks, and while I left it all out there on the internet, it wasn't enough to put my team over the top even though statistically I had one of my best days of being a jerky a-hole fan ever. If watching people get riled up over watching other people get paid millions of dollars to get riled up a few Sundays out of the year is something that interests you, there's still plenty of room to hop on my bandwagon over at @Fivesixer . You don't need to follow me, and I don't need more followers...it's just something else to do to pass the time, I guess. Don't mind the occasional corny attempts at humor or the random stripper/porn star follower request either...that's just part of the wallpaper that makes me human, or something. *shrug* Speaking of Twitter, the new American favorite pastime of Donald Trump gawking has hit increasingly popular levels as of late...especially when the obscenely rich-on-his-own-ego rich person launched a Twitter Q&A with the hashtag #AskTrump. Thankfully and dependably, the internet did not let us down . While it's true I will fear for our great nation if this man becomes president, each day that it becomes more obvious that he can't ever, ever be president just brings me another day closer to the sadness that will occur once he and his crazy hair end up going away for good.  And finally, today is the birthday of perhaps the greatest human being alive , Bill Murray. Nothing I can say about any of his movie roles will ever take the place of the many amazing stories about him that have occurred in random ordinary peoples' everyday lives...I'm not even gonna link anything. Someday, if you're bored or lonely or unhappy or any combination of the three, just Google him and read some of the things he's done. Day = instantly brightened. Ok, well, easier said than done on my end, anyway. I think I'm gonna go off in search of some kind of comforting baked goods so I can put off the inevitable panic that's bound to happen regarding tomorrow, and hope that me wanting to fall asleep early so I can wake up early doesn't lead to me worrying about oversleeping so much that I don't sleep at all. Peace, may pretty horses come to you, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
  "From a humorous perspective, what is the worst thing parents can do to their children?"What's happenin' y'all? This is twice in one week...it almost feels like the old days , when I could write for like, forever with good intentions. Somehow I've grown selective...maybe it's science, but I don't care. I do what I want when I want as long as it feels good.  Glad we understand where I'm comin' from. Let it be said, before I tear into this self-inflicted prompt, that I've always had a tenuous relationship with authority. Harmony for the sake of harmony...I get it. Learning where to pick your battles only comes with experience. When you're told as a child to ask questions about everything, and you take it to heart from someone you trust, don't be surprised when that comes back on you. And it only gets weird when you let it. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I have a pretty good relationship with my mom now, after years of not having one at all (it's a long story that I don't care to get into), and I'm thankful for that. And I know I shouldn't be surprised that I don't have a relationship anymore with Pop Diesel (that's how I used to refer to my dad in previous blogs and entries), but that is how we're wired, I guess...that's how the men are in this idea of family that I didn't have a say of being born into. Men are dicks. I'm in therapy and on anti-depressants for a reason...there isn't one major outlying reason for it other than the two people producing me did their best and worst to create me. But I have no choice, so let's go on and so forth... I don't have kids, so I am deep-seated in the tremendous position of being able to give advice without giving a shit! And if y'all have read me before, you'll know then that I'm rollin' up my sleeves and I'm ready to spit child-rearin' game from the comfort of my bed with zero fucks to give [Disclaimer: I've been involved with girls who have kids. I know you're all crazy about that when it comes to them.].  I get to see what y'all parents do to your kids, and I laugh. It ain't like the old days...peer pressure makes kids want to do shit we could never dream of back in the day, and most of y'all try to keep it that way. Your kids are dying to be accepted in ways we could only imagine...and what we imagined has slowly become commonplace, much to your chagrin. The freedoms we wanted back in the 80's are all that the parents of today are either trying to scare their own kids from, or are finding out firsthand that they are exactly their parents' kids. Discovery and experimentation never go out of style, regardless of what today's fashions tell you. And take all the pictures you can...that should go without saying in this infinite camera-phone society. Only the shittiest kids like me have destroyed their film-camera legacies back in the misbehavin' 70's...now, the tightest parents have their kids' Camera Roll on the cloud, and can access that shit whenever their whimsical fancy strikes them to be so god damn creative with the editing software and the filters and the HOLY FUCK CAN YOU BELIEVE IT NOW MY KID IS 17 WHERE DID THE TIME GO WHAT WAS I DOING IM THE WORST PARENT EVER FML DONT GO AWAY I ONLY REMEMBER YOU WHEN YOU WERE SWADDLED IN BLANKETS. Gawd I hate all of you. But that's just how I am, because I'm not in it. I always swore to myself it'd be my mission if I had kids to raise them differently than I was raised. Not that I'm slaggin' on my mother or my father, but for fuck's sake who would I be if I didn't think I could do a better job? After all, don't all parents want a better life for their kids? Isn't that why working and being decent people happens? Setting a good example. There were times when I could've been that...but I hadn't met the compatible person. I would've been the awkward dad. I would've fallen into a complacency trap, in a marriage where two people exist only to raise a kid who gets bored watching and waiting to see which one of his parents annoys the other the least. Luckily, all I have to worry about usually is how much I'm annoying myself (which is a lot, if you're still keeping score on me at home). So hey, if you have kids, be proud. I know I'd be that parent with a hundred pics in my WDC port of that kid doin' the dumbest shit instead of the already dumb shit that's in there meme-wise. I'd be shovin' how cute my genes are up everyone else's ass, just to make up for all the times I was told I was the ugliest kid anyone'd ever seen. And then I'd make sure I had that kid's back through anything...I understand a lot of things better now than I did when I was growing up, and I need to figure out how to convey that. Well, I don't need to, because I'm not babydaddying anyone, so OH MY GAWD WHY AM I TALKING ABOUT THIS. Ugh. I'll prolly straight-up ruin a kid. LISTEN TO YOUR MAMA. IF SHES GON WHOOP YOUR ASS, BEST BELIEVE I'M GON WHOOP YOUR ASS, CUZ THEN SHE'S GON WHOOP MAH ASS FO HAVIN TO WHOOP YO ASS. Circle of life in families of divorce, my friends. I'd rather give up all the fun of procreation than risk the continuation of some quote-unquote ideal parenting. Please don't ever make me give up the fun of procreation though. I know that was a lot of rambling with almost zero conclusion... sorry to put that on you guys as the means of a prompt. "Would you rather have more time in a day or an extra day of the week? Why or why not?"Oh man...what a conundrum. I guess it depends on what you're looking for out of life, and what your situation is. I can't tell you how many times in the last couple of years I've woken up in the morning hoping that the time to fall asleep again would happen very quickly. And before you chirp about how depressing that sounds, well, I have Severe Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety. What saddens you offhandedly is pretty much my everyday life. So eat a bag of dicks and let's just live our own lives before we judge others, ok? While an extra day of the week might be fun, given that it's what it's meant for, how am I supposed to know I'll be up for it? I can plan for it all I want as long as the days are, but when it hits how am I to know how I'll really feel about it? What if I wake up on the extra day each week and all I really wanna do is chill and recharge? My therapist and I had a similar conversation about this yesterday...I used to throw a lot of spontaneous parties back in the day, and people from all phases of my life (friends, family, coworkers) would show up and it would be a really good time for everyone. But if I tried to plan a party, hardly anyone would come. Why was that? I couldn't just gift people the extra hours to do whatever they wanted and still make time for me. I'm selfish, but not that much. I've put myself into a shell, not just since I've moved out to Cortland but in general. I've been that way for a long time. I don't bother anyone, and no one bothers me, and life goes on, and we're cool. I was tired of opening myself up to people only to be let down, whether it was because of them or my own expectations or actions. I know I don't need an extra day to push anyone away from me.  But I've been talking a lot to someone lately, and she's helped me tremendously to not only get over myself and all the little things that get in my head's way, but to see who I am as a person and how I express my thoughts to others. I wasn't looking for it so much as she just came to me, and I hope she's not mad for calling her out by name, but pinkbarbie  thank you for messaging me, talking to me, and being as awesome as you are. I'm going through a weird and complicated stretch in life right now. I'm thankful for all my WDC friends and their words...but Aisha has been a constant and a source of happiness that I can't begin to describe. She's the best friend a silly, lovelorn boy like me could ever hope to have. I'd rather have an extra hour every day with her than a bonus day, or any day, without her .  "Music is the art of thinking with sounds. Do you agree?" Y'all know I couldn't turn down a music prompt, right? Especially not my girl Princess Megan Rose GOT Fox  's. Music is so much more than just "the art of thinking with sounds". It can build bridges and break down walls. It's there when no one else is. The song in your head is stronger than the wherewithal of your enemies. I love little things with music, like Charlie ~ last night tagging me in "Note: [Embed //www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkTqXjlDP_I]
...". Not only do I appreciate the sentiment, but I know where it's coming from. Charlie and I have similar tastes, and I love it when he does that. He'll convince me to get in on Spotify as soon as he joins Facebook. But yo...I'd go batshit without music. Sounds, lyrics, momentum, postures...there's so much more to music than just "sounds". Oh my forgiveness, just jam earbuds into your ears during Sgt. Pepper or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or Hey Ladies. Sonic treasures! Lay back and let the music take you somewhere! It's there when your heart is broken, and it's there when you want to put it back together. When you're angry, or when you're pumped. Finding the right song for your mood, to me, is paramount when getting your day on in public and you need some swagger. Can't nobody front on my flow when I'm feeling like it's a musical masterpiece, but if you can hear what I'm dealin' with then that's cool at least . Baller Soundtrack 101, my man....if the music is in your soul, it don't matter what you look like or where you come from. Arguments? The line starts on the far right...right the fuck outta here.I can't talk about music without getting a little itchy in my drawers or my typy-fingers about Blur. So, so many good songs. All the good feelings. Star-shaped, and whatnot. Oh good lawd, whew...it's only me. Still a fantastic song/video, no matter how many times I've shared it before.  Y'all better get your newsfeeds right if I'm seein' what I'm seein' correctly...lizco252 has another Soundtrackers challenge opportunity up in the cut. You know I'm in...so get down with the gotten-down and sign up at "Resurrection Jukebox" . Alright...I've had a long day and I promised myself (and Aisha) I'd relax. I don't have to do anything for the next couple of days, so I think that's what I'll do. Peace, across the Ganges, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "How do you feel about politicians using music in their campaigns? Ear-catching strategy, or shameless pandering?"What's up you guys? Sorry to drop in on y'all like this, practically unannounced and whatever. I guess if you really want a blog entry out of me badly enough you'll ask me on a somewhat consistent basis for one, like the beautiful <not naming names> has been lately, or my <not naming names here either> does when it's really been a long time. And it does seem like I go awhile between entries nowadays...like I'm always startin' these things off with "I know it's been a long time, but..." and then I cheese out with the excuses. Whateva man. Anyway, may as well start today with my own prompt for the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , even though I'm not a contestant this month and I don't like writing for my own prompts during official months (another constant theme in my most recent entries  ). I won't judge this entry either, I promise. It'll just be in the 30DBC forum because that's the hole I crawled out of this morning. So you guys know I like music. I love music. All kinds...well, almost all kinds. And I'm cool with it being used in so many different applications. I'll listen to my iPod if I'm making the one minute trip across the street to CVS, so I can have beats while I shop. I'll take it with me when I go to the church across my building's parking lot for lunch, because it's so much more enjoyable than socializing with some most of the people there...even if I plan on reading a book over my meal (because under normal circumstances, you should always leave people alone if they're 1) reading; or 2) listening to headphones; or 3) both). On the bus, or waiting for prescriptions to be filled, or wherever I am in between, so is my music. That's me. And that's a lot of other people as well. In their homes, or jobs, or showers, or cars, or wherever they are, it don't matter. It's in commercials, movies, and television shows. It plays in the supermarket. Bands show up in bars. Downtown streets at Christmastime pump in holiday frickin' cheer. It's a great, wonderful time to be alive! This era of everywhere music! But you politicians, like everything else you do, are trying to ruin it for the rest of us. I understand it. The number one goal of a politician is to get elected/reelected. You want to prove that you're more popular than the next guy. You want us to think you care about things that are important to us. And you want want want the hip, young vote...presumably because you think we'll be around for awhile and that by winning us over you're cementing your legacy for as long as we're alive (which doesn't always pan out...ask any successful professional athlete who has wound up broke and/or in jail how that's worked out). So you do that by co-opting what you think are these quote-unquote generational anthems, and you present yourself at your rallies like a professional wrestler running down the ramp, flexing America across your back while threatening to suplex your partymates on your way to Corporate America's World Championship Belt. Not even realizing just how much of an ass you look like. Arguably the most notable instance of this happening was the Clinton/Gore campaign of, I think, '92, when they came out dancing to Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" at the Inaugural Ball (which is worth watching for a young Chelsea Clinton at around the 19-second mark forgetting how clapping works...oh Chels, why did I have such a crush on you back then?). That kind of appropriation, I guess, is ok...I mean, the band is actually there, playing the damn song. Sure, they probably got paid a shit-ton of money for it, which made it an easier pill to swallow (or inhale, whatever your thing is)...but I doubt they would've done it if they also didn't endorse the Clinton brand of politics. What we have now in 2015 though is an entirely different ballgame. A bunch of entitled white dudes The Republican party and its clown car of candidates seems to think they can just pick a song as a rallying cry, play it, bob their bobbleheads along to it, smile, and win over the masses. It's that simple! Instead, they look just as ignorant in this charade as they do when they open their mouths and claim platforms for "the people" without actually understanding who "the people" are that they should be trying to reach. There have been at least three different instances in the past few months worth noting:  Donald Trump using Neil Young's "Keep On Rockin' In The Free World" ...which is funny because Young is Canadian, and Trump wants to close our borders off to Mexico, so Canada must be ok. Mike Huckabee using Survivor's "Eye Of The Tiger" in the blowback of Kim Davis' "I won't marry gays in Kentucky so jail me" hissyfit; also, not the first time the song has been used for political gains sans permission. Our boy Trump again, this time using REM's iconic "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" and earning himself a strong, solid rebuke from REM's lead singer, Michael Stipe..."Go fuck yourselves, the lot of you- you sad, attention grabbing, power hungry little men." Brilliant, I say. In the most basic of terms, what it boils down to is a copyright violation...using someone else's work to further your own agenda, without permission or proper compensation. If I were selling a product for profit and needed a quality professional picture for my advertisement, I'd hire a photographer. If I want to use a song in a television show, I have to pay the songwriter a licensing fee, and/or the appropriate royalties. Politics isn't much different. If you're gonna straight-up use a song as part of your campaign- as part of selling us yourselves as the answer to the world's troubles- you need to take care of where you got it from. You need to make sure it's ok. I'm not saying you have to trot out a bunch of aging rock stars everywhere you go like they're your geriatric back-up band, but can we at least get a band-approved statement that says you're not stealing their ideas to hopefully further your own? It's the decent thing to do...especially in creative circles, where the ends don't often justify the means. Politics and decency though...what am I thinking?   "Neuroscientists have identified a ten-section 'empathy circuit' in our brains which, if damaged, can curtail our ability to understand what others are feeling. As only psychopaths have zero empathy, which means empathy circuit in their brain is missing, do you believe science may come up some day to fix the brain circuits of those people and cure them? Or does this seem like a wishful thinking?"Nothin' like not bloggin' for two weeks and then comin' back to a good ol' science prompt. (For the uninitiated, the sciences of most kinds are not my strongest suits.) In a general sense, it is my belief that science can (and probably already has) cure damn near anything. You name it, and it's been defeated in the name of science. The only problem is this: curing this isn't lucrative. There's less money to be made in the answer than there is in the prolonging of the question. And unless the solution to fixing a problem is to create a different yet related problem, there are so many truths that may never see the light of day because of the politics in the money-making machinery behind every great worldwide lie. George Carlin, the late comedian, once said a great thing about knowledge, and how it relates to people working:  The truth is out there. It's a known quantity. But it's something we'll never see in our lifetimes, because The Man is tryna hold us down. And before I spiral completely outta control and y'all think I'm crazier than normal, I think I need to reiterate that this goes for empathy and the identity of an empathy circuit as well. If you're a conspiracy theorist you'll follow me...little bits of information leak out to the general population like this to tantalize us into thinking anything's possible. Criminals can be cured! We can teach the unfeelable how to feel again!! Well, maybe...kinda...Obama! South Gators football rules!! And then we all go back into our caves, and tomorrow's a new day, and your inbred cousin is still walking into walls because he hasn't learned how to use a door yet and you still laugh at him because you haven't learned that other peoples' misfortunes really shouldn't be funny but they sorta- no, definitely- are. If we're just common people and we know there's a lot of things out there that we know better about, imagine what smart people, like scientists, know. Now, imagine all that they know, but aren't telling us...and then ask yourself why they aren't telling us. Why would we want to give a convicted criminal the sense of empathy? In the for-profit criminal justice system, prisons make a lot of money filling their cells by keeping these psychopaths off the streets. The United States has a ridiculously high prison population. Overcrowding in correctional facilities is more than common. What stake do the prison corporations have in rewiring the criminal's mind with the intention of curing their lack of empathy? Even if it only worked in one out of every ten patients, that's a ten percent loss in revenue. That's like discouraging a repeat customer. The criminal justice lobbyists would never stand for it. Then again, if you're asking me, I'll tell you that the real criminals- the true psychopaths- are the ones holding the elected offices and the suits that line their paths there with their green pockets, side deals, and winks and handshakes. Those people are the ones in need of an empathy circuit descrambling and rewiring. But do you think it's ever gonna happen? Yeah, right. I feel bad for ya if you think it will.  "'The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.'- Muriel Rukeyser. Write a poem, story or an opinion about this statement. Be creative and have fun." Truth. We can believe all sorts of theories about creation and this or that, because what proof do we have otherwise? But all the technical jargon is boring, and no one cares once the eyes are glazed over as some boring-ass professor-type drones on about Big Bangs and philosophers and Jesus and the universe. We want something relatable...we want knowledge on our terms. Trust isn't just knowing what's right and true, but being able to identify the truth within the significance. You might know of a restaurant, but if you want to know how their food is you'll ask someone else who's been there before. You want assurance from experience. That's why we have stories...to add color to the existence we know about but aren't entirely familiar with because to know all that would just not be fun. And what gets people movin' their asses and being excited about something? Fun. You don't want to know how the restaurant was built. You probably don't care about the cooks. All you wanna know is that the food they serve is gonna fill your belly up right. The important details- the higher priority, in your eyes- is what you seek to be fulfilled. And why do we sometimes trust the stories of our friends more often than the educated truths presented to us by smarter people? Why is it more important that we believe certain whimsical facts, and not ones of a higher practical standing? Because we're only human, and all that matters to us is that our immediate needs are met. We want to know what we want to know as efficiently as possible. Point A to Conclusion B, please, and step on it! No time for origins and back-up plans. Just gimme what I want to hear, the way I want to hear it. That means Johnny Sixpack's neighbor's girlfriend's ex-sister-in law's dead roommate's opinion means more to me than Doctor Professor Huffnpuff's research-backed statistical data analysistoramalamadingdong. It means more coming from someone you know that's been there, even if you only kinda know them, as opposed to someone you don't know at all who's definitely been there and can tell you how, where, when and why. That's great and all, but it's not as relatable on a personal level. Us humans are pretty great and damning like that. Facts! Ha! ! We want something that captivates our imaginations. We want worlds that aren't really worlds to become our world. The grass is always greener on the other side. We're human Mobius Strips when it comes to what we want and how we choose to get it. We don't want to listen to someone explaining how babies are made, and we don't want to watch a baby being delivered...we just want to make the baby! That's all! Just the easy parts! The sweet meats and the low-hanging fruits. Save the facts for someone who gets paid to fact stuff. I'll pay more for someone else to do the real work. That's all we are! The world is made of stories, because in the end, that's all we're willing to put in the effort toward believing.  And if the world is made of stories and not atoms, then what are we made of? "Can't fight the future. Can't fight what I see. People they come together. People they fall apart. No one can stop us now 'cause we are all made of stars." Lyrics. It's that magical time of year, folks...autumn is upon us, and so with the inevitable changing of the leaves comes the American tradition of the pumpkin spicing of everything you can fit in your fat, happy mouths. I finally broke down and went to a store this afternoon specifically because I had seen these recently and couldn't get the idea of how awful they might be out of my head.  There are no longer boundaries in place. If it is consumable, it will be pumpkin spiced, packaged, and sold for profit. Why? Because autumn, son. That's why. My snack this evening will be Kellogg's Pumpkin Spice Frosted Mini Wheats. And it will either be so incredible that I'll be tempted to email their customer service department, where some intern screening their emails will read and delete my pleas to make this cereal a year-'round treat; or it will be so spectacularly terrible that I won't even try to throw them out through the proper channels, like putting the box in the trash and then taking the trash to a larger can, where a maintenance man will then carry that garage down from the second floor to the dumpster in the back of the parking lot...I will actually launch the box out of my window like a cardboard and shredded wheat frisbee in the general direction of that dumpster. And if I'm lucky I'll do it right around the time some random girl loiters in the parking lot below, screaming one of my neighbor's names, because the savages in this community don't know how to respectfully let people know you're coming to see them, and the box will hit a power line on the way to the dumpster, causing the contents to rain down in a spray of electrified frosted amazingness that only the eyes and not the palette can appreciate. And I'll swear she deserves it too. Guess which way I'm hoping this taste test will end? So I woke up Saturday morning to something really cool...if you haven't already seen "Note: Who wants to read an interview? *Bigsmile*
...", blue jellybaby  put together some questions and I answered them for her blog . Super thankful and appreciative for the opportunity! Kinda proud too, actually. Come for the info regarding some poems I've written and are archiving in spurts here at WDC; stay for my opinions on soulmates and pizza versus tacos. You don't want to miss that.  I keep seeing random posts here and there on Facebook that this week is Suicide Awareness Week, or prevention awareness, or something like that. I'm not gonna get up on a soap box about it today or anything...I'm not in a preachy kinda mood. I'm just gonna share (for what might be the umpteenth time, but I don't care) one of my favorite off-site blog entries about depression...fully illustrated , and leave it at if you are having problems, please talk to someone, because there are people who care. To my knowledge, my inbox hasn't turned anyone down because they're feelin' some kinda way. Jus' sayin'.  I'm with ya. I know your pain.  And then sometimes you're just bored and you think you've seen all there is to see of the internet. But you haven't...not until you've wasted all your time here . And finally, as some of you might be aware, the NFL season kicked off on Thursday and included a full slate of games yesterday (Let's Go, Buffalo! ). Maybe you're a fan of the sport. And maybe you're single, and need a little help talkin' to the layyyy-deeez. Well, you're gonna be glad you clicked on whatever link you did that brought you here, because I'm here to help. I personally happen to enjoy football, and I like seeing people happy together (as long as they're not happy where I can see them), so please, enjoy these NFL-themed pickup lines , and please remember not to use them the next time you're out at the bar with your similarly loserish buddies on game day when the hottest girl you've ever seen walks in wearing the absolute tightest shirt ever to be graced by your team's logo. Laugh now, and thank me later, you manly men you.Alright, well, this entry is long enough I think...plenty of words here to get me through at least another week or so of conversations with my <still not naming names> or that gorgeous <also not naming names> without being asked if I'll be blogging today or if I even write at all anymore. At least no one's asking me when I'll get married...it's nice and a little sad when you realize that other people have realized that that ship has pretty much sailed, sank, and failed to list any survivors. More time for me to watch football in my underwear and swear I'll catch up on all the things I owe people on WDC (a newly-reoccurring and equally unfortunate theme in these entries, as of late). Peace, I sing in the reaches, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Take a look at everyone who is taking part in this month's challenge. Pick one member, go into their portfolio, and review one of their items in your entry. Then, suggest an item of your own you'd like to see reviewed."What's good everybody? It's another first of the month, and that means another round of the eventually world famous "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ...and because it's been 16 days since my last entry, I figured now might be a good time to drop in and say hey. Don't get used to it though...y'all know I'm not down with writing for the prompts I dish out (even though I've got a slew of prompts to choose from). And if I'm being honest, if this particular prompt came along in any of the other blogging groups I occasionally participate in, I'd be inclined to sit this one out. As much as I'd love to be one of those helpful, courteous, enthusiastic review people, I've learned that I'm not. I don't even know if I'm good at it, to be honest. I get reviews once in awhile, and they're fantastic in that there's a template with structure and wisdom and advice and shit...while I just can't get myself around phrases like "I really really like this!" or "Cool, thanks for sharing this!". It's embarrassing. And my default mode is to use myself and my own writing as a standard, which is probably a big no-no because who am I to judge; like, who do I think I am? Check my stats...in 14+ years on WDC, I've given like 400 reviews. There are people around here who do that in like, a week...and they're all top-shelf 2500-word breakdowns. I'll never be known as that guy. And I'm ok with that...let the experts tell you what's up. I'm just there for the cheerleading and the esteem boost (and I also hate telling someone their heart-and-soul life's work sucks). But I really need to get back on the blogging bus. I've discovered that part of my writing process is starting to mirror my life, in that it's just that...it's becoming a process (italics used as a non-positive emphasis). I really have to convince myself to do it. It's not easy, or at least, it's not as easy as it used to be. I mean well; I have every intention when I come across certain prompts at night that come the next day I'm gonna bang out an awesome piece of my mind...and that morning comes and I'm like "Naw homie, maybe not today..." and I sidetrack myself, and by dinnertime I chuckle at my silliness for thinking I might contribute anything. I'm a god damn head case like that. So anyway I came up with this prompt because I want the participants in this month's 30DBC to become familiar with one another...most of you will probably stick around for the whole month, which means you'll become more familiar with each other, and that's what I want to foster between everyone. Before I took over, I competed in a bunch of these...and by the end it felt like everyone was a little family. It's another great way of making friends around WDC. That's my biggest hope each month for everyone...that y'all have a good time, get creative, and make a few friends. But enough of me rambling on about that. We've got a couple of newbies in this month's go 'round, and my first thought was to pick one of them in hopes that they'd feel encouraged and then inclined to stick around...but instead I went a little more comfortable route and chose someone I'm more familiar with. skeason is, now I guess you could say, a veteran of the 30DBC, having placed in multiple rounds...she's one of my favorites, actually. Intelligent, hilarious, irreverent, somewhat unhinged...everything I love in a blog. I have a ton of respect for her. She doesn't hold back. When she steams, you can feel the heat coming off your reading device of choice. When she makes a point, it's with the accuracy of a Shaolin monk catching a fly with chopsticks. But for some odd reason, I don't think I ever ventured too far into her port...don't judge me! If I read everything by everyone I respect, I'd have no time to write my own shit. I jumped over to "December Haiku and Senryu Challenge" ...easy enough, because I like poetry and haiku writing, and as simple as it sounds, it's kinda not. It takes work to fuck one up, but a good or great haiku conveys so much in a compact space. And I had no idea that Skeez (that's my nickname for you, BTW) had that kind of depth in her. I mean, everyone has depth, and I'm sure I know it's there, but when you read so much from one person in one format sometimes it gets lost in the day-to-days of whatever it is we all do around here on WDC. That makes it a beautiful surprise when you come across something other than what you know someone to be, and I'm glad I took the opportunity to read a little more than what I'm used to from her. I reviewed the folder on a whole rather than an individual piece, because haikus (probably not the actual plural of "haiku" since my spellcheck flagged it, but whatever) are crazy short and it makes no sense to me to write a quality review that winds up being longer than the piece itself...especially when you have only favorable things to say. So here's my thoughts on it: Review of "December Haiku and Senryu Challenge"  . I'd like to recommend "Invalid Item" and "Invalid Item" first and foremost, as they're two of my favorites in the collection. The only thing I could think of as to why I couldn't give the folder a full 5 blessing is that each item was created individually (as part of a contest?), and I was hoping just to hit "next" easily, like a book or blog. But mad props to Skeez. I'd party with her any day...I get the feeling that if we weren't inciting some kind of trouble together, we'd be chillin' in the corner makin' fun of everyone else or having a better time philosophizing in the moment. I think there'd be some kind of hooliganistic stuff goin' down though. First guess. Anyway, mingle with your fellow challengers this month! That makes it all the more fun and real and whatever. Good luck to everyone, and get them words!! "If you could write on something you have never thought of to write about before, like a different idea, genre, or method, what would it be and how would you go about it?"Joy  always has some straight-up thoughtful prompts...at times even mind-bending. But I think everyone who is tasked with creating prompts ultimately does a better job with it than I do, including Lyn's a sly fox , Charlie ~ , Prosperous Snow celebrating  , and Princess Megan Rose GOT Fox . Those five...that's your All-Star Prompt Team starting five, right there. As for what I'd write in a different sense? That's tough. I'm a creature of habit. I write what I know and what I feel...going outside of my comfort zone, as with a lot of other things in life, tends to work me into states of confusion and self-doubt. I recently started trying to write fiction for kiyasama's "Musicology Anthology" with "Paul's Boutique" , but it's not great. I find myself constantly going back to biographical moments and leaning on them under the guise of "fiction", which isn't my strongest suit. I grew up writing poetry based on my life and my experiences, like "big smart rock jerk" and some other item I have in mind that I can't seem to find right now. I mostly blog now, where I reconcile prompts with what I'm doing or have done. As much as I hate to say it, I've become set in certain ways. I'm the authority over my my words, and if I don't feel like doing something, I don't do it. No spark, no ignition. Again, comfort zone. I prefer to stick with what's always worked for me...that's why I still write free-verse poems in notebooks 99% of the time I come up with anything that isn't somewhat coherent blog entries. But man, do I wish! Big dreams! I've started what I thought would be novels of some sort. I have one buried in a storage tub...maybe only a few pages long (they're all "a few pages long", and that's it) about lktropuckr and developing a story out of that through poems that never really materialized. But there were fake names and hopeless dreams and good christ that was like ten years ago, or something. Before blogging, after my self-inflicted poetry embargo, and being bored with everything but catching light in a different direction. I start little projects like that...and then I get sidetracked with other stuff. To pick them back up seems like too much of a challenge after the moment of dire inclination has passed. I'm all or nothing, unfortunately. Would I love to recreate the past in my casting? Of course...but that impedes my future and the "here and now" that I feel like I'm so one-track driven on. It's a balance I'm struggling to not teeter off of, and like many I choose to be the heavier weight. Some writers- fuck it...most of 'em- can get out of their own heads to create these wonderful places people can get lost in. Alternate realities. I'm not there. I can appreciate that, but I can't sustain that. I want crossovers and genre-flipping. I want to donkey-punch words so they submit into places you've never seen them. The internet has watered down content so much now...as easily as people are offended by a flag or "privilege" or religion or shaming of whatever, so are people being enlightened by anyone who doesn't give a fuck and spits true game in a place that makes you relocate your thinking of whatever topic. Don't just tell; color it. Don't be satisfied with personal details...relate. And don't just relate like the masses want you to relate...drop in the unexpected. If you have a pulse, follow it down to where it comes from and make it your own for everyone to admire. Separate yourself. Be the fruitful difference between a biography and an autobiography. I could go on, as the metaphors rollick through my head, but I'm missing the point. I kinda do that at times. I guess what I'm saying is...try as hard as I might, I'm comfortable in certain aspects with my voice when writing. Venturing out, away from that, to me would sound contrived. I can't be what I'm not, and I am who I am. No more, no less. Guaranteed fresh since 1975. "This is what my bones kept saying..."Imma tell you what my bones keep saying, because they're still alive enough to avoid the past tense. They fucking hate me. They're rebelling against the rest of my body over the abuse they took twenty-some odd years ago. The invincible kid who fought to prove his worth beyond big ol' glasses and nerdy pretenses. I had something to prove, and I full-force proved it. The playground hero...pick me last and I'll make you wish you picked me first, and next time you will. Some people just get respect based on who they are and who they know...kids like me had to earn it, and earn it, and earn it all over again. The playground mentality memory is short until you consistently drop triple-doubles on the court or rip off ankle-breaking jukes on the way to the end zone. And in the long run, all of that means nothing. I repeat: nothing. All that striving for acceptance. Being able to fit in because you could do something others couldn't. Making a difference to friends with your body at stake. Playground fucking hero. Look at you now. Sure, those with long memories hold close to them and paint a slightly different picture. But you forget that time breaks you down physically when you're too caught up in what was. I wake up every morning assuming that my knees will withstand what the rest of my upper body can put on them, and hoping that the side affects from my sleeping and depression/anxiety meds won't leave me toppling over in dizziness. Some days are better than others. I've always fluctuated as far as weight goes, and I think my body got used to a certain threshold as I got older and more settled than before...but breaking my ankle a few years back destroyed all of that. I got sucked in to being a patient. I still can't run...I can't do anything I would've been able to do prior to the bonfire-jumping atrocity I became when I landed in a frozen pit made by a truck's wheels in mud and crumpled when I tried to walk it off. I've broken bones before, but never like this...fractured, torn ligaments, muscles in the way impinged. Screws, a plate, surgeries. A permanent limp. I'm not the man I used to be...who could scale defenders and plow over bigger impedences and shit. I'm just an old guy. 40. Fuck. A twice-broken shoulder that was misdiagnosed the first time. A broken thumb. A mangled pinky finger. No cartilage left in my knees to tear, so my kneecaps keep rubbing on bone. And all the years I spent working out and "building a bigger, healthier body" mean nothing now. Sure, I hastened the physical wreck...but I didn't think it'd be this bad. No one does. When you're in it, you're not concerned about the future. In a results-based situation, NOW is all that matters. Not one or five or twenty years. Fuck. And people think I'm lazy or entitled. Piss off. I want to scream. So what if I "did this to myself". I didn't ask for a broken body. I was just doing what I had to do to survive in situations where I was fighting for respect. No one expects the  nerdy kid to contribute anything substantial on the athletic field, and they don't know how to respond when the kid goes off. Fuckin' empathy...no one knows it until it beats the piss outta them personally. But anyway...my bones are beat. They're always tired; always spent. I'm way more comfortable laying down than being upright. I shouldn't be this way. My mother warned me something about abusing my body the way I did when I was still a formidable teenager, but she was right. I'm not an All-Star anything, and my vessel is busted. Of all the anythings I could've been, I guessed hella incorrect. And all I have left now are memories, and my bones reminding me daily of how great I was in a snapshot of time...and how I'm paying for it now. Because this is learning, when you get old and older and learning to learn...  C'mon now...even I can't be so emotionless as to not raise up a salute to the whole WDC Birthday place to be. Big ups to the The StoryMistress  and the The StoryMaster  on this occasion. It's incredible, and I'm very appreciative. I hope you get to enjoy it as much as we have/will. Thank you for everything you've done, and for making this the home of so many different people. Oh you cheeky bastards, Cinn  and Charlie ~ ..."I need something normal" "I go where Charlie goes  " I  . Shenanigan Central. Right here, bitches. My excitedness has doth broughteth forth-edness-ess-nessery. I've got my eye on you two . All sorts of shenanigans will be expected and tolerated, but I have final say as to how far you'll go, and I don't think either of you will push me to the absolute limit. And I'm sure I had a buttload of other things to add to this fractured pile of discussionary pieces of things you're kinda in the mood to talk about but I'm not, so I'm gonna cut this off so I can catch a nap before I hafta smash my brain against my pillow when I wake up and need to figga out another proimpt. Ugh...worst part of owning a cool-ass forum. Peace, I don't want to be crippled and cracked, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
  "I'm glad everyone is enjoying their time at the lodge; we will be leaving here on Monday morning so if you have laundry, mail to catch up, or shopping to finish... plus it may be helpful if you mail your things home so you don't have to lug them around. We are lucking out tonight, 55 degrees... should be a great night outside to watch the rodeo. Have you ever seen a rodeo? Who gets the worse deal the horse or the rider in your opinion?Have you ever imagined what a blade of grass feels like on a hot day? What kind of things would the grass be thinking about and why? What if torrential rain started; how would the grass feel and why? Let's see your creativity with this one. We will be wildlife viewing today on a guided tour with a ranger, another great camera op in the morning; the afternoon will be yours until we get together for dinner and then the rodeo. There are more people hurt by bison than by bears each year in Yellowstone. Park regulations state that visitors must stay at least 25 yards away from bison or elk and 100 yards away from bears." What's up campers? No better way to pass the time than a blog entry before dinner and a rodeo, right? After we get the little things outta the way, of course. Little things, like a blade of grass...that we so often take for granted. How does it feel on a hot day? If it's in the solitude amidst peers, I'd say it's doin' alright. It tans and browns like most of the rest of us. Earnin' its keep from the soil and whatnot. Unless it's festival grass...then god bless it. That's like the suicide bomber of the grass world. "Hi, we're here just to promote our green living concepts until we get trampled on by the party crowd!" And there isn't much that can be done about that. But as a blade of grass, don't you kind of know your fate based on the surroundings you were born into? You could end up with the life on someone's lawn, getting yourself hewn all the time by someone else who wishes for your conformity within the community of like blades...or you could get to sprout free amongst the illest patches yearlong, save for that one time millions of people trod upon you and your soulmates in the name of human concert-going. My preference would be to be free and take my chances. The blade the lawnmower refuses to cut. The untrimmed edge. That blade. The one that flaps in the summer wind, uncouth and uncut. So I die once a year the hard way, at the feet of the music lovers. I'll still get to come back to where I feel loved the most, and not forced into the crew-cut patio-outlining lifestyle. I'm not your regular greenery, dammit! But hot damn! Ok, back to me, and not my grassblade persona. I'm not one for rodeos...unless it's a Burger King Rodeo Cheeseburger (are those still a thing? It was just a cheeseburger with some onion rings and barbecue sauce; a dollar menu gem.). Like, IDGAF. Cowboys and giant sides of animated beef. I've been domesticated to see past that, I guess. Another display of Americana pagentry...where eventually we roast and devour the losers? I dunno. Does that happen? You can tell me if I'm wrong. I'm all against cannibalism, so why wouldn't it be fair if...never mind; I'm losing my train of thought. How is this fun? Oh gawds, so many things going on, and I don't wanna tell anyone who's right and who's wrong. Luckily, we have Lyn's a sly fox and ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy along with us to tell us what's right and expected of us...so before I can even contemplate what a side of bronco ribs slathered in bbq sauce looks and tastes like, Charlie ~ and I have been led out from the grandstands. I don't even think either of us has been properly lubricated enough mentally to understand what's about to go down. There used to be a bar/nite club in my area growing up that had "Country Night" every Thursday, but Wednesdays and Fridays were "Teen Night" and "Alternative Night", which meant my sister and her friends could dance, and drive me and my friends so we could get shitfaced...and ride the mechanical bull. Which, sober or no matter how many dollar pints of Labatt Blue are in ya, is a lot harder than it looks. I will fuck with anyone regarding their love of country music, but if you can ride that on teen night in a bar where too many people are wanting to show off in front of their friends and aren't used to looking stupid, well, bless their hearts. But I've been there, and I've fallen off fast. I'm willing to engage my crowd at the expense of my lack of buckin' ability. I'll put on a good show for three seconds...long enough to wave my cap in the air like I'm actually a-ridin' this dinner like whatshisname- that John Wayne guy. Fuck him, and fuck this beast! I'm in it to wi---- Nope. I buckled when the animal bucked. Ass over horns did I go. I guess I'm thankful enough to have rolled out of the way the way I did, because I could've been trampled. Why do we tease these animals? I could've been Norbmeat for a god damn family of rodeo animals! And then what? I'm not endangered, so it ain't like anyone would be all Cecil the lion about me...just another stupid human gored by animals and their instincts. I made it back into the grandstand and was greeted with jeers from my fellow campers...so I lashed out. "How many of you would've been willing to do that?" Shut them up pretty quick. I got a heroic backrub from Princess Megan Rose GOT Fox , and soon all was forgotten.  "Do you think our society has gotten too politically correct? Is there even such a thing as being too politically correct? Share your opinions on this topic." I guess I should preface this by saying that I never set out with the intention of offending anyone. That's not in my heart; it's not my nature. I understand that people from all walks of life will see this, and most won't have the benefit of walking a mile in my shoes. Deep down, I wanna love everyone...can't we all just get along? But we can't. I know this. Because despite one's best efforts at inclusion, there are gonna be some people out there who no matter what are gonna get pissed for one reason or another. You can't please everyone. You can't make everyone happy. The best you can do is work on yourself, and do your best to warn others...but even then, not everyone gets the memo or, worse, thinks it "won't happen to them" (and that's dangerous territory...sometimes, the people who claim they don't get offended by anything are the first to raise holy hell at the first sniff of subversive content). Personally, I don't give a fuck about anything (for the most part). And I know better than to think most of you feel the same way. I have lines, sure...but most of 'em are drawn farther away from yours. On the header of this blog I have not one, but two warnings for the uninitiated: I'd be a fool to think that those are heeded with the same urgency I think they should...just like I'd be if I thought everyone else understood things the same way I did. It's a fact of life that sometimes what we intend isn't the same as what it's interpreted as. It's a hard lesson to learn. Especially when it's repeatedly taught upon you. All that said, look...I can only do so much. And I'm fully aware that we've all been brought up with different values. We like what we like, and that's a big part of the mix that makes us individuals. Some of us were just born with higher doses of fuck-all than the others. And that's ok. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna hide from who I am just so it doesn't upset your pretty little sensibilities. It's the classic American trait...Why should I change when you're the one that needs changin'? What a piss fight that is, don't ya think? We're so hellbent on coagulating around similar interests and hating on things that aren't like us that we fail to see the real beauty in the expressionism itself. The reasons behind why people do or say the things they do or say. We're so wrapped up in creating our own little worlds that not only can't we appreciate the other worlds of anyone else, but we also take that to mean that they're making war on ours. And let me tell you, friends...that's some bullshit. I live on one simple tenet: Live, and let live. That's it. No more, no less. Everyone has value, everyone has opinions, and they also have the right to express them, whether you agree or don't. That doesn't make them lesser than you. That doesn't invoke some right to discriminate. Fucking deal with it, like you were taught to in, I dunno, kindergarten? And truthfully, interpersonal relationships don't start at the elementary age...it happens at home, before school. It's hard to understand now, in the age of participation trophies and whatnot. That wall has been broken, by one butthurt mom who couldn't take her sucky kid's crying at not being good enough at not sucking. And that's ruined it for the rest of us...who were worth being distinguished by our actions with a little trophy. Now everyone gets one, and maybe one kid gets a bigger one, but the rich kid pissed and moaned that he didn't get as big of one, and where does it fucking end?? In WDC parlance, I always feel a little sketched-out whenever I enter something that offers a prize for participating. Like, I show up, drop my words off in a parking lot, pick them up afterwards, and at the end of the month or whenever there's a "Thanks for playin'!" sticker on 'em just for doing what I pretty much would've done one way or another anyway. Maybe it's a bad example, because some folks are genuinely happy to have people play along in their whatevers, but I'd rather just be told I suck and go home and never bother. This is where I think I'm maybe getting off the point, so I'll wrap it up. If you're worried about pissing people off, think about what you're doing/saying that'll piss people off. And if you're easily offended by whatever, then either reevaluate your thinking as to why you were in such a position and stick to needlepoint or Puritan artisan crafts, or grow a pair and understand that whatever it is you're doing is available to all sorts of people who might not hold the same beliefs as you. "Politically correct" was a great thing at one time, helping people who were singled out and/or disadvantaged. Now it's become a rallying cry for everyone who doesn't get their way. Truth shocker: no one wins. There isn't a master plan tilted to benefit one segment of the population over another. And every subsect within any division is filled with advantages and disadvantages. When the final tally is taken, is it really gonna matter? You'll be too dead to notice. Just don't be too much of a dick in the here and now, and you'll be alright. Who do I speak to at the rodeo about not riding on the proper animal? "When the hell did one goddamn thing go right in my life but you? You said you weren't sure. You said you were scared. Well, guess what? I was scared too." Lyrics. *stargray* To sort of accentuate my point from up above about "political correctness", while understanding that it's neither here nor there necessarily in the actual topic, fuck politics. When you and I both understand that neither political party in America truly has the common person's interests in mind when they want to run for the highest office, then we'll agree. I have a lot of Conservative friends who love to use hyperbole when voicing their opinions, and think that by resorting to name-calling us Liberals we'll just "see the errors of our ways". "You idiot Liberals! You must be stupid..." etc. How does that win me in your favor? I'm disaffected by whole process already, but that really doesn't help. When your party needs umpteen candidates to hold a debate televised on the network that constantly pumps your tires, and the one dude that sticks out slashes them, you're in trouble. The last time I checked, voting was done behind a closed curtain. It was between you and your deity of choice, I guess. If you're prepared to vote in public, be prepared to defend your choice...and not with something like "There was blood coming out of her wherever."  If you're judging me, I'm not voting for you.  I don't know if I'm allowed to campaign for this yet or not, or if campaigning is even allowed, but it's almost 8pm my (and WDC) time, and at midnight the first questions drop at "Invalid Item" . Gift points are a thing needed, and I think my team will need them. Not saying my team's not smart enough to win on its own merits, but you might wanna help us out. I looked at my team's forum, and I'm already sorta facepalmin'. One week, lord...one week...then I can go back to WDC infamy ignorance.Ok, I'm kinda done with this for tonight ...I'll hide my feelings just out of spite so I don't upset anyone who hates people with feelings that need to be felt. Eat a plastic bag of dicks, unless you're allergic to them; in that case, use canvas. Peace, our hands bond, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Perseid Meteor Shower peaks tonight; it is going to be a spectacular night to watch the sky with no light pollution. We really are in for a great show especially at 2:00am. It's going to be a short night sleeping; we'll rest tomorrow once we arrive at Canyon Village. You'll find this campground close to the breathtaking Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone near the center of the park. It offers stores, restaurants, pay showers, a coin laundry and a sanitary dump station, but no utility hookups. No camp cooking tonight, we are going to try one of the restaurants. What did you see? How did it make you feel? There are lots of videos out there to see this, so I suggest you check it out. I posted two links but there are many others. If you feel inclined compose a poem to share with us at dinner tonight."Hey yo...look who decided to make an appearance nearly two weeks into the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 's summer camping trip. Special thanks to Lyn's a sly fox for holdin' things down this month...so much has happened since the little blog icon on the left side menu started taunting me with how many days it's been since I last posted an entry (21, for all y'all keepin' score at home). It's not that I've been inactive though; just...moody, and not feelin' a lot of expression. Before I start talkin' 'bout Perseid though, let's tick off the list of my accomplishments since I last dropped by, in my old school favorite bulletpoint technique. I turned 40. Embarrassed myself in front of my brother's coworker, who was introduced to me as "Harley Davidson, straight from Japan". Thinking my brother was fuckin' around, I bowed and copped a very ugly, stereotypically Asian accent and asked him how he was doin'. Turns out he actually is straight from Japan. Wow did I feel like an ass. Further embarrassed myself by attempting Run DMC's "Walk This Way" at karaoke with the Japanese man from the above bulletpoint (whose real last name is actually Kawasaki). It was terrible. And of course it was recorded and posted on Facebook. If you're friends with me there, you might've seen it. I know ~Minja~ saw it. And I'm not ashamed of it; it's just that it's sideways, and I haven't found a video-editing program to right-side it...or else I'd put it on YouTube and blow up your computer speakers when you try to play it off your WDC newsfeed. I installed Windows 10 on a brand new laptop. So far, so good, with only one minor glitch (the touchpad doesn't always wanna work, but I don't use it that often anyway so it doesn't matter, and I know it's a simple fix). Still workin' on uploading all my cds to my iTunes library. That'll take me a good long while. And I still have to get used to typing on a full keyboard again. I tried not to rely on auto-correct too much, but it grew on me. I entered, started writing for, and subsequently hit a solid brick wall in the "Musicology Anthology" contest. "Paul's Boutique" , which won't be adapted into a movie anytime soon, is an homage of sorts to the teenage years, under a backdrop of growing up and playing baseball and learning a little about life. And I've learned a lot even now from writing it...like, I'm not a short story writer . I also entered "Invalid Item" , which happens to me sometimes during my 5am "wake up and take more Tylenol PM" jaunts...I do the things I think about doing but actually don't do, and I do them rather impulsively. And then I posted on the Newsfeed about it, which I don't much remember doing, but luckily my teammate Steev the Friction Wizurd copy/pasted my note to advertise it on his wall that we still needed some people to fill out our roster, and now we're all set. From what I gather, Pointless sounds sorta like Family Feud, but in reverse (and minus the exceptional Steve Harvey). That starts up in a couple of days, and it should be interesting.So I think that's it...I'm probably leaving out stuff and straight up forgettin' stuff, but I think now I've got the built-in "I'm 40" excuse to match up perfectly with the fact that I actually do forget shit on a much more consistent basis nowadays. Now, where were we? Ahhh yes, the camping trip. I haven't exactly not been participating; I've read some entries here and there and tried to keep abreast of most situations, but when the first of the month rolled around my head wasn't right for getting into the adventure. Have we located Dragon is hiding  yet? How are the kids makin' out so far? Princess Megan Rose GOT Fox 's ankle is healing. And when Charlie ~ and I aren't curled up drunk in the arms of a similarly inebriated bear , we're having long chats around the night's dying campfire with Cinn . Notice the three of us aren't fishing either. I didn't exactly forget about Perseid happening, but it did take Lyn's a sly fox reminding me for it to sink in that maybe I should try and pay attention to it. My problem is that I'm almost always asleep by two in the mornin' (is that an actual saying? Two at night doesn't sound right, but 2am does...two in the morning though...man, I hate those middle times). It's gotta be somethin' special for me to be awake at 2am, and by "special" I mean usually nothin' good happens at 2am. That's when people get shot and dudes get accused of sexual assault and shit. If you're awake at 2am, it's because you forgot to pee before you laid down and your bladder interrupted your dreams like "psst...empty me". So much shadiness happens under the 2am watch that when something cool like lotsa meteor showers go off on a special astrological tangent we're just like "Gawd, I've been through so many drunken shenanigans the last 20 years of 2am's, I think I'mma sit this one out. I'll catch the next one, fifty years from now." I'm not ashamed to admit that that's my luck. I get so used to waiting around, hoping for something spectacular to happen...and when it finally does, I've peaced out already from the exhaustion of basically doing nothing, like fuck this. And I'll also admit that I don't look up at the stars nearly as much as maybe one should, not that there's any bit of quantifiable math that suggests there's a benefit to it. It's hard where I live to appreciate a good, clear sky when you're surrounded by tall buildings and the people around you make you not wanna look out the window at 'em. When I go home to visit my mom though, I like to have a cigarette on the back deck and just look up...it's definitely more rural out by her, and I swear if it's not cloudy you can see something resembling the formation of the Big Dipper most nights. I could totally be wrong, because I'm not astrologically inclined, but please let me have that one thing if you're gonna give me anything. I don't have a whole lot more to add about this, unfortunately. I made it through a nice non-camp food dinner that I didn't disrupt by tossing a can of beans all loosey-goosey-like into the fire, and I swear I only wanted to take a nap but that turned into me always missing the cool stuff, like always...and then not being able to fall back asleep because my body isn't used to odd hours and just thinking it made itself through an entire night. Noting the silence of seeming like everyone else was settled, I figured I might as well try to collect my thoughts and try to write something, like I've been itchin' to do lately but not knowing where to begin. All I could manage was a look back to my past, when I thought life was starting to settle down...I just kept reading "The Day the Stars Became Round" over and over, until I dozed off with the notebook on my chest face-up at our picnic table. "'The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.' -Eleanor Roosevelt. Do you agree?" I won't say I agree or disagree, but I'll certainly go along with the notion of beautiful dreams being a component of a healthy future. The trouble I run into is that more often than not, my dreams wouldn't fall into the "Beautiful" section in the Netflix of dreams, ya know what I'm sayin'? I'm more or less at the point now where I'd rather just disable the queue once I fall asleep instead of taking my chances and winding up waking up to something I wish I didn't have to remember. And I'm not saying that dreaming is bad and you shouldn't do it just because I have bad experiences with it. By all means, dream your lives away, you dreamin' dreamers. Just know where to draw the line between what you want and what you need. Not that you need me to tell you that or that I think you'll listen to me anyway. Figured I might as well just tack another disclaimer onto every famous last piece of advice I give that I don't personally follow. Also, stay in school . Then you don't have to dream as much anyway, and when you do find yourself dreaming you'll have a better chance of cashin' them dreams in, ya heard?  "Have you ever been to a palm reader or fortune teller? If so, what did they tell you? If not, would you be interested in doing it? Do you believe in this sort of thing? Why or why not?" Like, a legit fortune teller (or as close to one as possible)? Naw man, I ain't that blessed. I mean, it sounds like a nifty idea in theory, and maybe ten or twenty years ago I coulda been talked into it and risked gettin' swindled, but I'm a grown-ass man now. I'm skeptical of everything. I don't need Miss Cleo with one hand on her crystal ball and the other hand on my wallet tellin' me what I probably should already know, dig? But I get it. Everyone wants to hear some crazy mystical shit about themselves. In my teens and early twenties, it was like there were two groups of girls: the ones who wanted to own tarot cards, and the ones that couldn't wait to have their palms read because they were convinced they were either famous in a past life or would hopefully marry some rich dude off the tv. And that's not even touchin' all the occultists and flat-fuck scary-ass intimidatin' chicks who always traveled alone under dark clouds of doom and sorcery. Is that, like, some kind of phase girls go through, just like guys either wanna be athletes or rock stars? I realize I'm gender-stereotyping from 1994, but has the world changed that much since then? I just don't see myself now going for it. You want to pay someone you don't know to hear them "analyze" your future? Send me $20, and I'll make up some wild story that'll make you feel good about losing that cash. And if you wanna know all about your past, well, see a therapist. My insurance covers one, and every three weeks or so I leave thinking I've spent the majority of my forty years on this planet being an asshole. Of all the poor choices I've made in my life, the biggest one I missed on was not getting into the counselling field...them, and tv weatherpeople, don't tell me they don't have the easiest positions in the world, where they can be wrong half the time (or more) and still have job security because weather doesn't stop weatherin' and the crazies don't stop being crazy. The awesome part of going through my cds is coming across songs I forgot I owned, whether it was on a mix disc or a soundtrack or label sampler, whatever. Sometimes songs just get buried...anyone with a large collection of music- you know what I'm talkin' about. I found this track on a disc I burned years ago...and when I pulled it up on YouTube, man, what a great era of music just based off the recommendations they list on the right side of the screen. I could DJ a crazy 90's prom afterparty just off that list. So good. "I thought she'd be there holding daisies; she always waits for me. She thinks she missed the train to Mars. She's out back counting stars." Lyrics/interpretations.  I never really had social phobias like I do now, or at least if I did they were very dormant. Some of it stems from two issues that, when combined, shaft and chafe me in ways only people in similar situations can understand: I have an odd name, and I never really pronounce it well...I just kinda mumble it out, like it doesn't sound comfortable being said from the lips of the person it's representin'. I've had forty years of practice with it, and all I've learned how to do in that time is instantly spell my name after introducing myself to someone. Needless to say, I know the emotions and all of these faces when people fuck up my name. Nine letters between my first and last names. You'd think it'd be easy. Norb Aikin. Nope. The struggle is real...between people trying to pronounce that, and me fighting off the urge to strangle the next one who decides they want to spell it however they want.  An amazing thing happened in my blogging lapse, and it just keeps happening: Donald Trump. Like many Americans who understand that a two-party system is flawed and voting isn't really controlled by people anymore anyway, I'm actually hoping this giant bronzed baby shoe of a man carries his act on all the way through to getting the GOP nod...he's high comedy, man. Well, if you don't mind him pissing off different sides of the population whenever he opens his mouth. He's not mentally stable enough to run a Burger King at this point, let alone a country, and his opinions are absolutely enchantingly disgusting...all things I can say with the clarity of having trod on those metaphorical and actual soles before. Let him sit in his tower and count his money in a safe place, where no one has to be subjected to his ridiculousness once his brand of political chicanery runs its course. Luckily for now though, not only do we have him, but thanks to the magic of the internet we can also imagine how he would've reacted throughout history . And as an added bonus, we can shade that deeper toward our country's presidency over time, and hear how he would've botched some of the greatest quotes from past leaders . Oh Mr. Trump, you bastion of batshit crazy aspirations and ideas...don't you go changin' on us and playin' the straight man from here on out just to win favor. You're an entertainer now! And finally, look, I know I'm not that old, and I'm probably being a big baby when I bitch and moan about it (no really, my body does hurt a lot in places I'm not used to it hurting), but I'm barely two weeks into being 40 and it's no different than 39, or 25, or any other number. It just means on some forms I have to scroll another notch to get to my listed demographic. It hasn't made me any wiser or distinguished (and if neither of those traits has come to me by now, I doubt they will in the next forty years), and I still don't qualify for a senior discount. But I'm old. I feel it. And damn near every single one of these tweets about getting old is true. If you're over 40, you'll know where they're comin' from. And if you're not...don't say we didn't warn ya. Anyway, I'm gettin' outta here. I missed you guys, and thanks belatedly for all the birthday love back when it was actually my birthday...but in lieu of all that next time around, let's just treat people like every day is their birthday, ok? Except that douchebag from accounting, because he's a douchebag and probably won't be around long enough to celebrate anyone else's birthday. But yay everyone else! Peace, I finally broke her, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #1911719 Unavailable ** What's up everyone? I am, and I haven't done this in a few days so I guess I should...I haven't really been in a mood to be productive lately and I feel like the longer I put off trying to come up with an entry the less likely I'll actually finish one. Let's get started.  All you really need to know about this picture is what's happening in the upper left corner...but before I distract you with that allow me to set the overall scene. This is the next logical evolutionary step from Google Glass (remember that? ). Our future will be permeated by computers that pretty much exist right in front of us 24/7, translucent and three-dimensional. We could be waiting at a bus stop, or chillin' in the church lobby, or standing in the burrito line, and a computer will appear in thin air. Maybe it'll be a function of the next iPhone...projection technology. We'll push a mouse or cursor with our eyeballs, and blink or poke at our selections with retina scans and fingerprint verifications and a note from our spiritual guides. Don't laugh motherfuckers...the future is coming harder than you think, and it's gonna be every sci-fi nerd's wet dream. But at our core, we're still human beings...and our priorities are still the worst in the entire universe. The grand wizards of gadgetry are well aware of this. They know we're a self-absorbed society that cares more about what the Kardashians are (or are not) wearing than any impending global nuclear disaster. We want to know what's trending on Netflix so we can better fit in, and we demand a constant flowing stock ticker so we know exactly how rich we are. The least of our concern happens to be World News, because if it doesn't have our names on it, attached to it, or languishing as a cosigner, it's worthless. Every section of the virtual screen is smudged, but the most wholly informative icon station for knowledge remains virginal like new-fallen snow. If you think people spend too much time now, in 2015, tethered to their devices...just wait until this reality becomes commonplace. Why bother with the worthless interaction between yourself and a pithy human being when the all-knowing, omnipotent super-mega-internet is a mere wish away? Imagine...a world where all you need to do is twitch your nose and blink like I Dream Of Jeannie and in seconds an Amazon drone is dropping a new sex toy at your feet in a conspicuous brown smiley box, and no one else knows you ordered it out in the open! Where do I sign up for this condiment my life's sandwich has been missing for so long? Nope. As I once said while living vicariously through a superhero movie I may not have seen in its entirety (Google it...the internet is a real, awesome thing), "With great power comes great responsibility." And with more cool technologies comes bigger dangers, more threats to personal and national security, and a fuck-all of indecencies we haven't been able to bring ourselves to fathom yet...stuff they dunked women in lakes over; threw rocks at otherwise knowledgeable and saintly men for until they bled out of their skulls; set fire to innocent children to cleanse them in Jesus' name of their demon-colored souls. All of this, in real time and back before the black-and-white era of television temporarily delayed our descent into a cultural madness. Don't do it. If you see something that looks as if it's directly in front of you, untethered and longing for the touch of your lonely fingertip, you must abstain. You shan't let this new modernism in. You have to remain in control, lest you become the new zombie of the oncoming Technological Ice Age. Only you can prevent yourself from...yourself, or something.  "What is your favorite work of art?"I'm almost ashamed to say this, but if we're just talking about art museum paintings and whatnot, I don't have a favorite. I've only been to maybe one major art gallery that I can remember, maybe more, I'm not sure, to be honest (and wow, what a crappy sentence that turned out to be...I'm not even gonna try to fix it, it's so bad). I'm just not that interested or fascinated by it, which is fine in my opinion because how many painters who've won their equivalent of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" three times have said to themselves "You know what? Fuck blogging, and fuck bloggers too. They're too smart for their own good and I don't have the patience to try and understand them, even though their meanings are directly in front of my beady li'l precious eyes." All of 'em, I assume. And what's worse is, as society further deteriorates (and as much as even I'd like to admit it isn't, I'm not blind) and strays from classicism and the raw beauty of <pick your favorite, long begotten time frame>, future generations will have no idea who the Rembrandts and Picassos were. Hell, I couldn't name a contemporary painter or famous artist in that respect without the internet if you offered me a million dollars or free tacos, because that's how much the arts have been minimized by the average population. How sad, really! I would love to say I'm cultured beyond a half-year 9th grade art class (where I did an enlarged drawing of a baseball card that I probably threw out a month later), but I'd obviously be lying. There's just no time in my boring life for it, sorta like some hippie-ish snot with a beret is too busy trying to visualize his hipster-chic girlfriend naked so he can reproduce it in oil paint on a canvas to read my loud opinion of not giving a damn about his hobby. That's how the world works nowadays. That's the artist's cycle of mutual non-admiration. We're not friends. We're not even frenemies. We don't even exist beyond an easel or a notebook. There will come a day when youths will go on museum field trips, and instead of boring-ass classic paintings of dudes in wigs we were forced to interpret, they'll be studying our stupid internet memes. "On your left are the Rotten E-Cards everyone found hiii-lar-eee-us and posted repeatedly on Facebook...and over here you'll find the famous dogs and cats that were popular in the early 2010's. After lunch we'll look at Bad Luck Brian, that guy from Futurama who's not sure of anything, and the drunken babies who either fell asleep on a pair of giant titties or somehow managed to become mafia heroes and are sick of your shit." Yup, that's what we have to look forward to, connoisseurs of the finer arts. May as well put all that training scrolling through Facebook to use somehow. "Have you ever been on TV for anything? If not, how do you think you would do?"To the best of my knowledge, I have never been intentionally shown on television before (outside of someone's home movie footage, and even then it was probably accidental and unflattering). Check that...one time in high school I went along with some group or club I probably only joined for the purpose of this one moment where we all got on a bus and went downtown to a Buffalo tv station so we could be on their weather broadcast. I don't remember anything else about it, other than it was Channel 7 and there were mostly girls involved. It's more likely I did it because I had a crush on someone else that was going than I actually cared about whatever it was we were trying to promote. My apathy for most things started young. The closest I came recently to being on tv was last summer. I'd just gotten off a bus- not sure where from, but probably a supermarket- and was trying to get home before the rain when a reporter with a camera accosted approached me. He identified himself as a someone who probably thought he was important over at channel whatever, and if he could ask me a few questions. In a rare moment of public captivity I agreed, and he proceeded to ask me about the SUNY Cortland riot that happened the previous fall. I was actually out of town when it occurred, so I didn't know much and kinda didn't care, but I basically told the guy I wanted the meddlin' kids to stay off my lawn (I didn't even have a lawn...or a television, or a real opinion on the topic, for that matter). And that evening I stalked the station's website, wondering if I'd be the next "man on the street" celebrity some genius makes YouTube remixes of (like this guy or this lady ). Sadly, it wasn't to be.Why? Because as much as I'd like to think I'm interesting or calm under fire, I'm probably a terrible interview. If I'm not entirely familiar with what you could ask me, I can't necessarily trust how I'm gonna respond in a timely, socially acceptable manner. Even in situations where I might be put on tv, or when a cute girl is cashing me out at CVS and there's an issue with my coupons and while we're sorting that out, she's making small talk with me and all I can think about is how embarrassed I am that I misjudged a coupon and now have to pay a leftover balance of 54 cents between the nickel and quarter I have in my pocket, and put the rest on my debit card, and my golly she's adorable and has a beautiful ass (yes, I'm that guy, and I don't care). Just like I babbled that last sentence...that's how I ramble when I'm put on the spot. If I'm not really sure what to say and don't want "dead air", I might talk until I don't even know what's coming out or if I'm actually still having a conversation...I just sorta drift above it like a soul would for comedic effect in a tv show. "Not good copy", as a producer might say. I imagine my eyeballs also roll toward the back of my head, yet I manage to remain upright and breathing while my mouth is on autopilot. And when it's over and I come to, I wonder what the fuck just happened, while hoping I didn't sound too much like an idiot. It's not that I'm a bad person to talk to...it's just that my mind is thinking about the next five steps ahead and the exponential amount of things that could happen, and I've already predetermined how the situation in front of me should end, so when it doesn't quite go as planned I turn into a big ol' ball of WTF. I don't know where my improvisational skills went, but somewhere in the last five to ten years I may have inadvertently flushed them and gotten some money back for the empties. And somehow I still don't consider myself a control freak. It's not that I have to hold serve over everything like it's the main or first step in a process, but I have to feel like I know what's going on and where everything stands in relation to the matter at hand...if that makes sense. I know what I'm trying to say but I don't know if it's coming across the way I want it to.  Y'all probably know most of this stuff anyway, and I might've shared similar links with this information before, but maybe it's time for a refresher given that I led myself into some sort of dystopian hell earlier in this entry...here are some tips to help you get the most out of your Google searches .  Very few of you might know this, but I'm a closet Beverly Hills, 90210 nerd. I got hooked on the reruns years ago when I was the co-manager of a small local electronics store, which had a wall of televisions. The other manager turned it on one day, and I asked him why (expecting him to say something about it being colorful, which was more visually appealing than movies because a lot of movies came across darker for some reason). All he said was, "Dude, the chicks." Anyway, Lifetime is apparently filming a 90210 biopic (which I'm surprised they hadn't done already, because the world clearly has a serious need for this and I ain't even playin' about it). I really hope they don't screw it up too much, but this is Lifetime we're talkin' 'bout, so I should probably keep a box of tissues handy and expect someone to get kidnapped just in case I ever happen to watch it. (And for what it's worth, I was considered the Brandon of our store, which was just fine with me .) And finally, maybe like many of you I'm often wondering how I might ever regain the near-girlish figure I once had in my youth (which was a very young youth, or that late-20's period that consisted of one shitty microwave meal a day followed by long nights of intoxication). But I'm too lazy and physically incapable of just exercising like a normal human being, so like so many of my fellow slovenly Americans maybe I wanna be like everyone else says they're being like...which means maybe I should do a cleanse. After all, if everyone says they're doing it, it must work, right? Every decade another fad dieting trend comes along that makes people swear they look and feel better without actually losing any weight or- pshaw!!- even attempting a jumping jack or a sit-up, and I think I might've found something that will actually work for me. It's The Seven-Day Chili Dog Cleanse , and I found it just in time for National Hot Dog Day (which, amazingly, is a thing...a glorious, smack-the-fat-kid-in-me-awake glorious thing). I can't wait to see the results...hopefully maybe I'll be able to kick this (not one, but have one anyway and not just 'cuz it's the cool thing for men to have right now) dad-bod to the curb once and for all! Hey, I'm gonna be 40 soon, and I may as well try to feel fabulous about it, ya heard? Pass the feta cheese and the horseradish mustard, and don't be stingy with the onions...I gotta purify my mind, body, and soul!Alright, well, now that I've admitted some fears and deep secrets about myself, it's time I go off alone someplace and have a good cry while wondering exactly what this world has come to. Or not. I'll probably just eat some kind of snack food like it's a meal and then hope I remember to turn the volume all the way down on my tablet and phone before I fall asleep, 'cuz I kinda don't care about a whole lot else today. Peace, the little gnome that's in your dreams, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
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