How did you get this number?
Snap out of it
You're not making any sense
You misunderstand all meaning
I'm not falling for this one
Then whose war is it anyway?
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
You're not listening to this
And just for once could you
Let me finish my sentence?
Make no sudden movements
And no one will get hurt
Now, I've had it up to here
Don't ever try that again
Why are you so quiet so suddenly?
Go on, have it
You're just dying to try me
So, what do we do now?
What do we do now?
"Phone Conversation between the Kidnapper and the Cop" - Edit by Me
Thursday, November 13, 2003
How did you get this number?
I can't get my head 'round you
Of course you're not coming over
Snap out of it
You're not making any sense
You couldn't be more wrong, darling
I never gave out these signs
You misunderstand all meaning
Snap out of it
I'm not falling for this one
If love is surrender
Then whose war is it anyway?
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
If you think that it's so damn easy
Then what do you need me for?
Just look at the state of you
Babe, snap out of it
You're not listening to this
And just for once could you
Let me finish my sentence?
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
Make no sudden movements
And no one will get hurt
You're not coming over
If you know what's good for me
Why would I be leaving you?
Now, I've had it up to here
Don't ever try that again
Why are you so quiet so suddenly?
Go on, have it
You're just dying to try me
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
So, what do we do now?
What do we do now?
What do we do now?
What do we do now?
"Psychobabble" by Frou Frou
I can't get my head 'round you
Of course you're not coming over
Snap out of it
You're not making any sense
You couldn't be more wrong, darling
I never gave out these signs
You misunderstand all meaning
Snap out of it
I'm not falling for this one
If love is surrender
Then whose war is it anyway?
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
If you think that it's so damn easy
Then what do you need me for?
Just look at the state of you
Babe, snap out of it
You're not listening to this
And just for once could you
Let me finish my sentence?
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
Make no sudden movements
And no one will get hurt
You're not coming over
If you know what's good for me
Why would I be leaving you?
Now, I've had it up to here
Don't ever try that again
Why are you so quiet so suddenly?
Go on, have it
You're just dying to try me
Do just what I tell you
And no one will get hurt
Don't come any closer
'Cause I dunno how long I can hold my heart in two
So, what do we do now?
What do we do now?
What do we do now?
What do we do now?
"Psychobabble" by Frou Frou
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Heh. Know those Crest automatic toothbrushes? The ones you can either hold down the button to operate it manually, or you can click the button down so it spins on its own? ... Well, I'm a big fan of dental hygiene and I carry one of those Crest brushes and a big tube of toothpaste in my backpack when I'm at school [I commute].
I was in my composition class today when suddenly my backpack began to vibrate and purr/hum really LOUD. It was most definately too spastic to be a cellphone, so ppl are looking at me like I have a vibrator in my bag. Ha ha! I said, 'Shoot! Did that thing turn on!' nonchalantly. My male teacher was blushing RED as I reached into my bookbag and slowly pulled out... my toothbrush. I've never seen so many disappointed looks all in one room before.
I was in my composition class today when suddenly my backpack began to vibrate and purr/hum really LOUD. It was most definately too spastic to be a cellphone, so ppl are looking at me like I have a vibrator in my bag. Ha ha! I said, 'Shoot! Did that thing turn on!' nonchalantly. My male teacher was blushing RED as I reached into my bookbag and slowly pulled out... my toothbrush. I've never seen so many disappointed looks all in one room before.
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
Monday, November 10, 2003
Friday, October 24, 2003
Love...
Love is when you take it up the ass, despite the fact that you have a perfectly good pussy you're dying to use instead.
Love is when you suck it, not thinking about the fact it had been up your ass just the night before.
Love is when, the next day, you have that awkward moment in which you realize you've sucked on something that's been up your ass -- and realize you don't care.
That said, I now understand why they say only fools fall in love.
Love is when you take it up the ass, despite the fact that you have a perfectly good pussy you're dying to use instead.
Love is when you suck it, not thinking about the fact it had been up your ass just the night before.
Love is when, the next day, you have that awkward moment in which you realize you've sucked on something that's been up your ass -- and realize you don't care.
That said, I now understand why they say only fools fall in love.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
my cat likes to sit on my girlf and i's laps when we use the toilet, and he's gotten used to just jumping up on the toilet seat when he sees us going in there. well i go in, lift the seat, and start to pee in the dark, only i don't hear anything hitting the water...then i hear a REEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWRRRR!!!!
turn on the light and yep...i peed on the cat.
turn on the light and yep...i peed on the cat.
So I get on an elevator, and there's this really attractive blonde there. She looks at me and says "T-G-I-F!" with a really big smile on her face.
I look at her, smile, and say "S-H-I-T".
She looks confused for a minute, and still smiling, says again, "T-G-I-F".
I return her smile warmly (after all, she is fine!) and repeat "S-H-I-T".
She decided I don't get it, so she says, "No, no, no. T-G-I-F. Thank God It's Friday."
I give her my best grin and says, "S-H-I-T. Sorry Honey, It's Thursday."
God, I wanted to slap her.
I look at her, smile, and say "S-H-I-T".
She looks confused for a minute, and still smiling, says again, "T-G-I-F".
I return her smile warmly (after all, she is fine!) and repeat "S-H-I-T".
She decided I don't get it, so she says, "No, no, no. T-G-I-F. Thank God It's Friday."
I give her my best grin and says, "S-H-I-T. Sorry Honey, It's Thursday."
God, I wanted to slap her.
Brag, brag, brag. So I sez to him I sez. Brag, brag, brag:
"Can I get you another Guiness?" - Trent Reznor
"Hello Mr.D, how are you this fine day?" - Kevin Crompton
"I could sit on your lap." - Lisa Loeb
"I'm wearing silver ginch too, see?" - Sarah McLachlan
"Let's take her and her sister to the strip bar." - Tyler from BNL
"Taco Bell huh? That's some cool shit." - Method Man
"Hey guys." - Peter Buck
"Can I get you another Guiness?" - Trent Reznor
"Hello Mr.D, how are you this fine day?" - Kevin Crompton
"I could sit on your lap." - Lisa Loeb
"I'm wearing silver ginch too, see?" - Sarah McLachlan
"Let's take her and her sister to the strip bar." - Tyler from BNL
"Taco Bell huh? That's some cool shit." - Method Man
"Hey guys." - Peter Buck
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
I remember when I was little my dad used to bring home chocolate bars every second friday. I couldn't figure out why it was every second friday but obviously now I know: PAYDAY! LOL. He'd bring all different ones and the smallest kid got to pick first so me and my brother always got shafted with the shitty chocolate bars but it was still pretty cool. It sucked big time when that tradition stopped. I'm not sure if they ran out of money or we got too old...
Monday, September 29, 2003
So I guess that's what it's like to wash out your mouth with soap.
The gastrointestinal effects of my initial taste test were minimal, except for violent eruptions of gas throughout the night. These deep tuba notes were completely odorless (perhaps they had been washed clean), but almost disturbingly loud. One honk of the trombone, which occurred at 3:00 am, was so noisome that it actually roused my wife from a deep slumber. "Cut it out," she mumbled, then rolled over and went back to sleep.
The gastrointestinal effects of my initial taste test were minimal, except for violent eruptions of gas throughout the night. These deep tuba notes were completely odorless (perhaps they had been washed clean), but almost disturbingly loud. One honk of the trombone, which occurred at 3:00 am, was so noisome that it actually roused my wife from a deep slumber. "Cut it out," she mumbled, then rolled over and went back to sleep.
I'm a 33 year old black magician. Magic is my primary interest. Most of my time and money goes to it, by far.
I was what many people would consider a magical prodigy. I was summoning demons to visible apparition before I was out of elementary school. It killed at least two before I managed to figure out how to bind it.
No one taught me, I taught myself.
I can raise storms virtually at will. My tarot readings are close to 95% accurate and very specific. I can summon some remarkably fierce beings. Peers have described me as the Picasso of curses and hexes. And I have done things much more astounding, which literally have to be experienced to be believed.
I have bathed in blood for magic. I have fasted for weeks for magic. I occasionally perform rituals which require standing in silence and stillness for 24 hours.
And it is not enough. As far as I see it, I am a novice. I have accomplished a few things, yet I have a long list of things yet to do before I am satisfied.
Just the same, I have a library of close to a thousand books on magic, of every kind. I have read most of them many times. I have memorized a few.
Think what you may of my abilities, but no one can dispute my seriousness.
I was the first person on the Internet to establish major web resources and mailing lists dealing with black magic. I am the founder of necronomi.com. Before that I ran The Familiar Spirit BBS for three years. I am a noted contributor to the alt.satanism FAQ and the principal editor is a close friend of mine.
I've been featured or quoted in New York Magazine, the New York Post, Paper Magazine, Time Out New York, and (supposedly) in the New York Times. And I'm probably forgetting a few others.
In the magical community I choose my friends selectively and prefer to socialize online these days. Considering who and what I am, it should not surprise you that I am a misanthrope. Many of the most credible writers on magic who do so primarily over the Internet know me on a first name basis and consider me their peers.
I hate to brag, but you ticked me off.
If you must call me something, call me an asshole. I'll wear it with pride.
I was what many people would consider a magical prodigy. I was summoning demons to visible apparition before I was out of elementary school. It killed at least two before I managed to figure out how to bind it.
No one taught me, I taught myself.
I can raise storms virtually at will. My tarot readings are close to 95% accurate and very specific. I can summon some remarkably fierce beings. Peers have described me as the Picasso of curses and hexes. And I have done things much more astounding, which literally have to be experienced to be believed.
I have bathed in blood for magic. I have fasted for weeks for magic. I occasionally perform rituals which require standing in silence and stillness for 24 hours.
And it is not enough. As far as I see it, I am a novice. I have accomplished a few things, yet I have a long list of things yet to do before I am satisfied.
Just the same, I have a library of close to a thousand books on magic, of every kind. I have read most of them many times. I have memorized a few.
Think what you may of my abilities, but no one can dispute my seriousness.
I was the first person on the Internet to establish major web resources and mailing lists dealing with black magic. I am the founder of necronomi.com. Before that I ran The Familiar Spirit BBS for three years. I am a noted contributor to the alt.satanism FAQ and the principal editor is a close friend of mine.
I've been featured or quoted in New York Magazine, the New York Post, Paper Magazine, Time Out New York, and (supposedly) in the New York Times. And I'm probably forgetting a few others.
In the magical community I choose my friends selectively and prefer to socialize online these days. Considering who and what I am, it should not surprise you that I am a misanthrope. Many of the most credible writers on magic who do so primarily over the Internet know me on a first name basis and consider me their peers.
I hate to brag, but you ticked me off.
If you must call me something, call me an asshole. I'll wear it with pride.
Friday, September 26, 2003
Thursday, September 25, 2003
The day after the storm
I didnt leave the house at all
They assumed from the lack of prints in the snow
That I had been away for some time
But I was upstairs
And I couldn't hear them
With my headphones on, recording a song
They broke my windows
And walked inside, beneath me as I played on
Unaware of what was going on
As my song began to fade
I heard whispering and then I couldn't breath
They were walking up the stairs
Towards me as I looked for somthing to try and scare them away
And I couldn't find shit
So I grabbed my bass guitar by the neck and held it above me
And hid by the top of the stairs and thats where I was found
5 days after I hit the ground
"Bass Song" by Hayden
I didnt leave the house at all
They assumed from the lack of prints in the snow
That I had been away for some time
But I was upstairs
And I couldn't hear them
With my headphones on, recording a song
They broke my windows
And walked inside, beneath me as I played on
Unaware of what was going on
As my song began to fade
I heard whispering and then I couldn't breath
They were walking up the stairs
Towards me as I looked for somthing to try and scare them away
And I couldn't find shit
So I grabbed my bass guitar by the neck and held it above me
And hid by the top of the stairs and thats where I was found
5 days after I hit the ground
"Bass Song" by Hayden
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
The other day, my dad calls me and unintentionally reminds me there is always a master and a student. He told me this story:
Yesterday I got a phone call from a telemarketer, and I thought you'd appreciate this.
Hello, this is Alicia, she said, and I'm calling from--
I could tell she was a telemarketer right away, so I said: "Alicia?"
Yes? she replied. Then, in my creepiest voice, I said:
...what are you wearing?
Four full seconds of dead silence later, she hangs up the phone.
Yesterday I got a phone call from a telemarketer, and I thought you'd appreciate this.
Hello, this is Alicia, she said, and I'm calling from--
I could tell she was a telemarketer right away, so I said: "Alicia?"
Yes? she replied. Then, in my creepiest voice, I said:
...what are you wearing?
Four full seconds of dead silence later, she hangs up the phone.
Flaming Lips, Rufus, Avril Join Hands For New Comp
You can see the pitch meeting for this one. Rows of severely-tanned gentlemen in matching suits. A sun-drenched California visible for miles (if it wasn't for that damn smog) outside the high-rise windows. The rows of men (and women) gazing intently as two dweebs armed with Magic Markers and posterboard scribble furiously. The gawkers stammering and pontificating as cell phones tremble and whine.
This is the type of album that makes you cringe. Somewhere a group of horribly powerful people are combining the best of "pop music," "adult contemporary," and "indie rock" (for that special zing!), packaging it and attempting to release it on the public for mass consumption by intelligent-music deprived legions. Merry Christmas everybody! Here's your "musically diverse" compilation album, its a real winner! Yes it's become readily apparent that the Flaming Lips will DO ANYTHING. This includes (but is not limited to) special appearances at jamband festivals, 90210, and the "damn, who'd a thought i'd ever get tired of this beautiful fucking song" regurgitation of "Do You Realize?" on VH1 commercials.
Yes, I watch VH1. "I Love The 70's" is monumentally good television.
Anyways.
The comp is entitled Maybe This Christmas Too, and yes folks its the sequel to last year's Maybe This Christmas. The album features tracks by Barenaked Ladies, Rufus Wainwright, Guster, Damien Rice, Dave Matthews Band, Rilo Kiley, Badly Drawn Boy, and Avril Lavigne with Chantal Kreviazak (whom I had never heard of but my girlfriend thinks is hot shit). The Flips provide a cover of Bing Crosby's immortal holiday classic, "White Christmas".
The album is due in stores November 4th.
Bah Humbug.
The tracklisting for this monstrosity is:
1. Rufus Wainwright - 'Spotlight on Christmas'
2. Eisley - 'The Winter Song'
3. Avril Lavigne and Chantal Kreviazik - 'O Holy Night'
4. Rilo Kiley - 'Xmas Cake'
5. Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan - 'Silent Night'
6. Guster - 'Donde Esta Santa Claus?'
7. Be Good Tanyas - 'Rudy'
8. Dave Matthews Band - 'Christmas Song'
9. Oh Susanna - 'Go Tell It on the Mountain'
10. Barenaked Ladies - 'Green Christmas'
11. Martina Sorbera - 'It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year'
12. Badly Drawn Boy - 'Donna and Blitzen'
13. The Flaming Lips - 'White Christmas'
14. Sixpence None the Richer - 'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear'
(Article from http://www.tinymixtapes.com/)
Well....I know of at least 3 people that were in the room when they came up with this. I guess Coldplay doesn't believe in Xmas or Dave wasn't invited to the meeting. I make videogames not music now, and I feel slightly less foolish after reading this.
You can see the pitch meeting for this one. Rows of severely-tanned gentlemen in matching suits. A sun-drenched California visible for miles (if it wasn't for that damn smog) outside the high-rise windows. The rows of men (and women) gazing intently as two dweebs armed with Magic Markers and posterboard scribble furiously. The gawkers stammering and pontificating as cell phones tremble and whine.
This is the type of album that makes you cringe. Somewhere a group of horribly powerful people are combining the best of "pop music," "adult contemporary," and "indie rock" (for that special zing!), packaging it and attempting to release it on the public for mass consumption by intelligent-music deprived legions. Merry Christmas everybody! Here's your "musically diverse" compilation album, its a real winner! Yes it's become readily apparent that the Flaming Lips will DO ANYTHING. This includes (but is not limited to) special appearances at jamband festivals, 90210, and the "damn, who'd a thought i'd ever get tired of this beautiful fucking song" regurgitation of "Do You Realize?" on VH1 commercials.
Yes, I watch VH1. "I Love The 70's" is monumentally good television.
Anyways.
The comp is entitled Maybe This Christmas Too, and yes folks its the sequel to last year's Maybe This Christmas. The album features tracks by Barenaked Ladies, Rufus Wainwright, Guster, Damien Rice, Dave Matthews Band, Rilo Kiley, Badly Drawn Boy, and Avril Lavigne with Chantal Kreviazak (whom I had never heard of but my girlfriend thinks is hot shit). The Flips provide a cover of Bing Crosby's immortal holiday classic, "White Christmas".
The album is due in stores November 4th.
Bah Humbug.
The tracklisting for this monstrosity is:
1. Rufus Wainwright - 'Spotlight on Christmas'
2. Eisley - 'The Winter Song'
3. Avril Lavigne and Chantal Kreviazik - 'O Holy Night'
4. Rilo Kiley - 'Xmas Cake'
5. Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan - 'Silent Night'
6. Guster - 'Donde Esta Santa Claus?'
7. Be Good Tanyas - 'Rudy'
8. Dave Matthews Band - 'Christmas Song'
9. Oh Susanna - 'Go Tell It on the Mountain'
10. Barenaked Ladies - 'Green Christmas'
11. Martina Sorbera - 'It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year'
12. Badly Drawn Boy - 'Donna and Blitzen'
13. The Flaming Lips - 'White Christmas'
14. Sixpence None the Richer - 'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear'
(Article from http://www.tinymixtapes.com/)
Well....I know of at least 3 people that were in the room when they came up with this. I guess Coldplay doesn't believe in Xmas or Dave wasn't invited to the meeting. I make videogames not music now, and I feel slightly less foolish after reading this.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Menieres Disease
It's official, I got it. It's chronic, uncureable and eventually means I'll be deaf. Not to be too dramatic, it can be controlled with diet and medication. No salt, sugar, no coffee, NO BOOZE!
Maybe I'll drink myself to deaf.
It's official, I got it. It's chronic, uncureable and eventually means I'll be deaf. Not to be too dramatic, it can be controlled with diet and medication. No salt, sugar, no coffee, NO BOOZE!
Maybe I'll drink myself to deaf.
Friday, August 22, 2003
Dear Friends and fellow Wesleynauts,
We are deeply saddened to report that one of our artists, Wesley
Willis passed away yesterday, Thursday, August 21st. Wesley will be
greatly missed by all that had the privilege to know him, as well as
the fans who have been fortunate enough to experience his genius.
Wesley was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML) at
the end of 2002, and had to undergo emergency surgery on June 2nd to
identify the source of, and to suppress internal bleeding. It is not
clear if this bleeding was related to his leukemia or not, and the
exact cause of death is still unknown. Wesley had been recovering at a
Hospice in Illinois, and since the surgery his health had deteriorated
rapidly.
His songs were simultaneously disturbing, hilarious, blunt, and
intoxicating. Wesley's sheer excitement and unaffected honesty about
every cultural phenomenon, defined his music as truly individual, and
truly punk rock.
We are deeply saddened to report that one of our artists, Wesley
Willis passed away yesterday, Thursday, August 21st. Wesley will be
greatly missed by all that had the privilege to know him, as well as
the fans who have been fortunate enough to experience his genius.
Wesley was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML) at
the end of 2002, and had to undergo emergency surgery on June 2nd to
identify the source of, and to suppress internal bleeding. It is not
clear if this bleeding was related to his leukemia or not, and the
exact cause of death is still unknown. Wesley had been recovering at a
Hospice in Illinois, and since the surgery his health had deteriorated
rapidly.
His songs were simultaneously disturbing, hilarious, blunt, and
intoxicating. Wesley's sheer excitement and unaffected honesty about
every cultural phenomenon, defined his music as truly individual, and
truly punk rock.
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Monday, August 18, 2003
Holden: I'm staring to think.. That you don't get me.
Justine: MAYBE I *don't* get you.
Holden: YOU DO! YOU DO GET ME, YOU JUST DON'T WANNA GET ME BECAUSE I AM TOO INTENSIFIED FOR YOU!
Film: The Good Girl
Watched it last night. Really funny movie. Holden also said something like "You got me. No one's gotten me before. It feels great to finally be got by someone." It just went on and on. Laughed my ass off at that. I don't give a shit if anyone has ever "got" me. Who the fuck cares? Being loved? That's important. But being "got"? Whining about being misunderstood is for pissy teenage emo kids and starving/failing artists. Fuck that. If no one has "gotten" you, then you have a serious communication problem. It's not "their" fault. Make yourself understood you illiterate schmuck!
Justine: MAYBE I *don't* get you.
Holden: YOU DO! YOU DO GET ME, YOU JUST DON'T WANNA GET ME BECAUSE I AM TOO INTENSIFIED FOR YOU!
Film: The Good Girl
Watched it last night. Really funny movie. Holden also said something like "You got me. No one's gotten me before. It feels great to finally be got by someone." It just went on and on. Laughed my ass off at that. I don't give a shit if anyone has ever "got" me. Who the fuck cares? Being loved? That's important. But being "got"? Whining about being misunderstood is for pissy teenage emo kids and starving/failing artists. Fuck that. If no one has "gotten" you, then you have a serious communication problem. It's not "their" fault. Make yourself understood you illiterate schmuck!
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Half-Asleep Man Pauses 20 Minutes Between Socks
SANDPOINT, ID—Seated on the edge of his bed, Carl Thompson, 38, paused for 20 minutes with one sock on his foot and the other in his hand Tuesday. "Ugh, tired," said Thompson, who was otherwise silent from 6:30 to 6:50 a.m. During that period, Thompson stared at the wall and teetered perilously close to a reclining position six times.
SANDPOINT, ID—Seated on the edge of his bed, Carl Thompson, 38, paused for 20 minutes with one sock on his foot and the other in his hand Tuesday. "Ugh, tired," said Thompson, who was otherwise silent from 6:30 to 6:50 a.m. During that period, Thompson stared at the wall and teetered perilously close to a reclining position six times.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Friday, July 18, 2003
After Kakua visited the emperor he disappeared and no one knew what became of him. He was the first Japanese to study Zen in China, but since he showed nothing of it, save one note, he is not remembered for having brought Zen into his country.
Kakua visited China and accepted the true teaching. He did not travel while he was there. Meditating constantly, he lived on a remote part of a mountain. Whenever people found him and asked him to preach he would say a few words and then move to another part of the mountain where he could be found less easily.
The emperor heard about Kakua when he returned to Japan and asked him to preach Zen for his edification and that of his subjects.
Kakua stood before the emperor in silence. He then produced a flute from the folds of his robe, and blew one short note. Bowing politely, he disappeared.
Kakua visited China and accepted the true teaching. He did not travel while he was there. Meditating constantly, he lived on a remote part of a mountain. Whenever people found him and asked him to preach he would say a few words and then move to another part of the mountain where he could be found less easily.
The emperor heard about Kakua when he returned to Japan and asked him to preach Zen for his edification and that of his subjects.
Kakua stood before the emperor in silence. He then produced a flute from the folds of his robe, and blew one short note. Bowing politely, he disappeared.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
1st Place: "My Uncle Is A Man Named Steve (Not A Monkey)"
Cassidy Turnbull (grade 5) presented her uncle, Steve. She also showed photographs of monkeys and invited fairgoers to note the differences between her uncle and the monkeys. She tried to feed her uncle bananas, but he declined to eat them. Cassidy has conclusively shown that her uncle is no monkey.
2nd Place: "Pine Cones Are Complicated"
David Block and Trevor Murry (grades 4) showed how specifically complicated pine cones are and how they reveal God's design in nature.
Honorable Mention:
"God Made Kitty" - Sally Reister (grade 3)
"The Bible Says Creation" - Aaron Kent (grade 5)
"Pokemon Prove Evolutionism Is False" - Paul Sanborn (grade 4)
Cassidy Turnbull (grade 5) presented her uncle, Steve. She also showed photographs of monkeys and invited fairgoers to note the differences between her uncle and the monkeys. She tried to feed her uncle bananas, but he declined to eat them. Cassidy has conclusively shown that her uncle is no monkey.
2nd Place: "Pine Cones Are Complicated"
David Block and Trevor Murry (grades 4) showed how specifically complicated pine cones are and how they reveal God's design in nature.
Honorable Mention:
"God Made Kitty" - Sally Reister (grade 3)
"The Bible Says Creation" - Aaron Kent (grade 5)
"Pokemon Prove Evolutionism Is False" - Paul Sanborn (grade 4)
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
jay is 100% straight
jay is 42 degrees fahrenheit with a july temperature average of 80 degrees
jay is a big mountain; it may not have as many 'trails' as other places
jay is a common
jay is a common and conspicuous denizen of the west
jay is a complex and unique individual
jay is a dumbass
jay is a founder and chairman of the scientific advisory board of nanomed pharmaceuticals
jay is a great actor
jay is a great eight track recording package that is so easy to use
jay is a guy who knows how to use the modern to serve the past
jay is a heterosexual
jay is a horrific thing to happen to the hip
jay is a long
jay is a loud
jay is a native of lake mahopac
jay is a nerd
jay is a painter
jay is a renowned sleight
jay is a senior at our local high school
jay is a slave to fashion trends
jay is a symbol of the proper use of power
jay is a top
jay is a trial attorney with particular experience in patent litigation
jay is a very friendly guy
jay is a very pretty bird that doesn't seem to be particularly shy of people
jay is about of the size of the jackdaw
jay is also active in international oil and gas matters
jay is also casual
jay is also designing and carving two nine foot in diameter brick circles that flank the entrance
jay is also highly variable
jay is also invite as a monthly recident dj at on in off corso
jay is also is director of the five college tibetan studies in india program
jay is also ranked as a 6th dan in judo
jay is also the fiefdom of bill stenger
jay is an animated instructor who makes his classes fun and entertaining as well as educational
jay is batboy?
jay is between 9 and 12 inches long
jay is canadian
jay is caught
jay is clearly a techno by his appearance because he wears the techno "uniform" of black clothes
jay is coming to melbourne
jay is committed to keeping his knowledge of fitness training and nutrition current
jay is common in suburbs
jay is connected to the following things
jay is correct
jay is currently the resident lighting designer for the everyman theatre in baltimore and a freelance designer in the baltimore
jay is dead
jay is development coordinator with the northampton group
jay is found from east to west as far as north as the tree limit and south to where the northern evergreen forests end
jay is geboren
jay is generally protected by provincial legislation
jay is going to sytlandtaw
jay is gone
jay is gonna kill me for this but
jay is great
jay is happy to offer workshops on christian vocation and spirituality
jay is here now
jay is hiphop
jay is just the right combination of unquenchable curiosity and high
jay is like
jay is like stepping into another world
jay is more then just a sexy stud
jay is most likely to regress
jay is my favorite playground
jay is not
jay is not a mod here anymore
jay is not god
jay is now a second year university student and he's studying to be a pharmacist
jay is one heck of an actor
jay is one of the few men in the world to ever receive this award and is also the youngest person to ever be nominated and win
jay is one of the world's great sleight
jay is open about the poems being not even representative of the poets themselves
jay is our hero
jay is over 18
jay is probably not the greatest skater of all time
jay is recognized as one of the most adept manipulators of playing cards in the world
jay is relocating
jay is right
jay is second to none by bear on may
jay is similar in colour
jay is slowly but surely getting his strength back
jay is so ugly
jay is sooooooo cool
jay is stuck in an artistic straitjacket of his own making
jay is switching to will's decaf
jay is talking about
jay is terrible
jay is that he loves to tell stories
jay is the author of several articles on unix/linux security
jay is the best
jay is the best ever
jay is the coolest roadie in the world and now he has a fan club
jay is the culprit who is doing this mischief and is the root of harassment
jay is the founder of conscious action
jay is the man
jay is 'the master of disco scratch'
jay is the most colorful representative of its otherwise dull family in europe
jay is the most productive ally of the crime family
jay is trying not to paint himself into a corner
jay is ugly
jay is veering too deeply into the philosophical
jay is 42 degrees fahrenheit with a july temperature average of 80 degrees
jay is a big mountain; it may not have as many 'trails' as other places
jay is a common
jay is a common and conspicuous denizen of the west
jay is a complex and unique individual
jay is a dumbass
jay is a founder and chairman of the scientific advisory board of nanomed pharmaceuticals
jay is a great actor
jay is a great eight track recording package that is so easy to use
jay is a guy who knows how to use the modern to serve the past
jay is a heterosexual
jay is a horrific thing to happen to the hip
jay is a long
jay is a loud
jay is a native of lake mahopac
jay is a nerd
jay is a painter
jay is a renowned sleight
jay is a senior at our local high school
jay is a slave to fashion trends
jay is a symbol of the proper use of power
jay is a top
jay is a trial attorney with particular experience in patent litigation
jay is a very friendly guy
jay is a very pretty bird that doesn't seem to be particularly shy of people
jay is about of the size of the jackdaw
jay is also active in international oil and gas matters
jay is also casual
jay is also designing and carving two nine foot in diameter brick circles that flank the entrance
jay is also highly variable
jay is also invite as a monthly recident dj at on in off corso
jay is also is director of the five college tibetan studies in india program
jay is also ranked as a 6th dan in judo
jay is also the fiefdom of bill stenger
jay is an animated instructor who makes his classes fun and entertaining as well as educational
jay is batboy?
jay is between 9 and 12 inches long
jay is canadian
jay is caught
jay is clearly a techno by his appearance because he wears the techno "uniform" of black clothes
jay is coming to melbourne
jay is committed to keeping his knowledge of fitness training and nutrition current
jay is common in suburbs
jay is connected to the following things
jay is correct
jay is currently the resident lighting designer for the everyman theatre in baltimore and a freelance designer in the baltimore
jay is dead
jay is development coordinator with the northampton group
jay is found from east to west as far as north as the tree limit and south to where the northern evergreen forests end
jay is geboren
jay is generally protected by provincial legislation
jay is going to sytlandtaw
jay is gone
jay is gonna kill me for this but
jay is great
jay is happy to offer workshops on christian vocation and spirituality
jay is here now
jay is hiphop
jay is just the right combination of unquenchable curiosity and high
jay is like
jay is like stepping into another world
jay is more then just a sexy stud
jay is most likely to regress
jay is my favorite playground
jay is not
jay is not a mod here anymore
jay is not god
jay is now a second year university student and he's studying to be a pharmacist
jay is one heck of an actor
jay is one of the few men in the world to ever receive this award and is also the youngest person to ever be nominated and win
jay is one of the world's great sleight
jay is open about the poems being not even representative of the poets themselves
jay is our hero
jay is over 18
jay is probably not the greatest skater of all time
jay is recognized as one of the most adept manipulators of playing cards in the world
jay is relocating
jay is right
jay is second to none by bear on may
jay is similar in colour
jay is slowly but surely getting his strength back
jay is so ugly
jay is sooooooo cool
jay is stuck in an artistic straitjacket of his own making
jay is switching to will's decaf
jay is talking about
jay is terrible
jay is that he loves to tell stories
jay is the author of several articles on unix/linux security
jay is the best
jay is the best ever
jay is the coolest roadie in the world and now he has a fan club
jay is the culprit who is doing this mischief and is the root of harassment
jay is the founder of conscious action
jay is the man
jay is 'the master of disco scratch'
jay is the most colorful representative of its otherwise dull family in europe
jay is the most productive ally of the crime family
jay is trying not to paint himself into a corner
jay is ugly
jay is veering too deeply into the philosophical
Monday, July 14, 2003
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
I have a stomachache. I can't exactly say that this is the cause of the weird idea I just had, but it cannot be logically excluded.
I think I might just walk into the bar down the street, have a seat, pull a stuffed Snoopy out of my bag, and sit him on the bar next to me. "Set us up," I'll say, "two vodka gimlets." And then just sit there and write in my jottings notebook for an hour or two and ignore the hell out of anybody else in the place.
I loved my stuffed Snoopy. Mom still keeps him for me.
I think I might just walk into the bar down the street, have a seat, pull a stuffed Snoopy out of my bag, and sit him on the bar next to me. "Set us up," I'll say, "two vodka gimlets." And then just sit there and write in my jottings notebook for an hour or two and ignore the hell out of anybody else in the place.
I loved my stuffed Snoopy. Mom still keeps him for me.
Monday
Grab both of her breasts completely in your hands and knead them like dough.
posted by Tony from CRANIAL EXPLOSIONS at 10:01 PM
Do It For the Experience
----
Strangely enough. I did that this morning while she brushed her teeth.
Grab both of her breasts completely in your hands and knead them like dough.
posted by Tony from CRANIAL EXPLOSIONS at 10:01 PM
Do It For the Experience
----
Strangely enough. I did that this morning while she brushed her teeth.
Monday, June 23, 2003
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Out Of The Mouth Of Tony
"I came to this bizarre realization: I am a husband. For example, think of your dad and then say to yourself, 'Jay is one of those....' Wow, isn't that fucked up?"
Spoken only like Tony can. Hilarious...hahahahahaha!
Do It For the Experience
"I came to this bizarre realization: I am a husband. For example, think of your dad and then say to yourself, 'Jay is one of those....' Wow, isn't that fucked up?"
Spoken only like Tony can. Hilarious...hahahahahaha!
Do It For the Experience
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
For Gil and Harland:
Yesterday I noticed this huge crowd which trailed down the block. I was in a city bus on my way home. The crowd wound it's way around the corner, everyone was facing away from me. As the bus pulled closer I could see the line's ultimate destination.....
KFC.
It was toonie tuesday.
Honest, no lie.
Yesterday I noticed this huge crowd which trailed down the block. I was in a city bus on my way home. The crowd wound it's way around the corner, everyone was facing away from me. As the bus pulled closer I could see the line's ultimate destination.....
KFC.
It was toonie tuesday.
Honest, no lie.
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
The same thing that made him a great frontman for Van Halen might make him a good radio personality.
Roth defines that quality as "belligerent enthusiasm."
"There a thin line between rage and really great art," he said. "As soon as people settle in and get relaxed, it's over.
"You've got to have fury. If you're gonna laugh, laugh to win. If you're not gonna laugh, let me see a war face."
Where did that rage come from?
"Maybe," Roth said with a laugh, "somebody didn't pay enough attention to me as a kid."
David Lee Roth tells Earth about album
Roth defines that quality as "belligerent enthusiasm."
"There a thin line between rage and really great art," he said. "As soon as people settle in and get relaxed, it's over.
"You've got to have fury. If you're gonna laugh, laugh to win. If you're not gonna laugh, let me see a war face."
Where did that rage come from?
"Maybe," Roth said with a laugh, "somebody didn't pay enough attention to me as a kid."
David Lee Roth tells Earth about album
Birds.
They chase me. They try to kill me. The number of "Birds Attack" stories that have happened to me are numerous to detail. But the short list:
-"Killer Mazur Budgie" rips open back of my neck while I'm in the fetal position screaming.
-Crazed Sparrow bullets straight for my head in the Granville underpass. I drop to the pavement in the nick of time.
-This Morning a Stalking Crow followed me for four blocks while dive bombing my head. Screaming taunts and curses at me.
Birds hate me. I'm scared of them. Why?
Cause they can fly and I can't. They have the upper hand.
They win.
They chase me. They try to kill me. The number of "Birds Attack" stories that have happened to me are numerous to detail. But the short list:
-"Killer Mazur Budgie" rips open back of my neck while I'm in the fetal position screaming.
-Crazed Sparrow bullets straight for my head in the Granville underpass. I drop to the pavement in the nick of time.
-This Morning a Stalking Crow followed me for four blocks while dive bombing my head. Screaming taunts and curses at me.
Birds hate me. I'm scared of them. Why?
Cause they can fly and I can't. They have the upper hand.
They win.
Thursday, May 22, 2003
"Eighties parties are nothing but a chance for incest survivors to bury their memories for a short joyous respite (as long as the Kajagoogoo keeps playing, it's still 1986 and I haven't been molested yet)."
From GIRLS ARE PRETTY
I dated a chick that this refers to. And upon reading this it all started to make sense. Remember her magic code my friends? FK ME DA DE.
From GIRLS ARE PRETTY
I dated a chick that this refers to. And upon reading this it all started to make sense. Remember her magic code my friends? FK ME DA DE.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Ken and I have started our own cartoon strip.
The two characters are Max and Spanky.
We improvise the dialog on MSN Chat and then I use the dialog as a search term on Google image search and put together the strip.
The logo I designed from scratch and I'm quite proud of it.
Brain Frog - It's a brain in your frog.
The two characters are Max and Spanky.
We improvise the dialog on MSN Chat and then I use the dialog as a search term on Google image search and put together the strip.
The logo I designed from scratch and I'm quite proud of it.
Brain Frog - It's a brain in your frog.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Monday, May 12, 2003
Monday, May 05, 2003
The paraphrase I heard and will remember:
"Art is best when it forgets its name."
The actual quote:
"Art does not come and lie in the beds we make for it. It slips away as soon as its name is uttered: it likes to preserve its incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets its very name."
-- Jean Dubuffet
"Art is best when it forgets its name."
The actual quote:
"Art does not come and lie in the beds we make for it. It slips away as soon as its name is uttered: it likes to preserve its incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets its very name."
-- Jean Dubuffet
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
"Honestly I do not think that I become would shit received ever enough by this. Away to jolly man. Away to jolly." - Gil (again)
Gil's Mystery Blog
Gil, you are one quotable motherfucker!
Away to jolly!
Gil's Mystery Blog
Gil, you are one quotable motherfucker!
Away to jolly!
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
"It is made joke issuing together this time and hope I that we receive to make it again sometime." - Gil (translated back into english)
Gil's Mystery Blog
Gil's Mystery Blog
Monday, April 28, 2003
Friday, April 25, 2003
I'm sitting here at my desk listening to the new Radiohead album that isn't supposed to be released yet. Ah the wonders on the Internet. The band is a little pissed cause they say that what I'm listening to is just rough mixes. I do feel for them that their control of music is lost. I'd hate that too. But dam it's a nice album.
The sun is shining, I'm in love, there's champagne in the fridge.
A new age is dawning, the summer is almost here.
I'm happy. And trust me, you don't hear me say that very often. But fuck, life is good.
I blame Debbie :-)
The sun is shining, I'm in love, there's champagne in the fridge.
A new age is dawning, the summer is almost here.
I'm happy. And trust me, you don't hear me say that very often. But fuck, life is good.
I blame Debbie :-)
Thursday, April 24, 2003
Jeroboam (Founder and first king of Israel, 931-910 BC)
Rehoboam, son of Solomon (King of Judah, 922-908 BC)
Methuselah (Biblical patriarch who lived to the age of 969)
Salmanazar (King of Assyria, 859-824 BC)
Balthazar (Regent of Babylon, son of Nabonide, 539BC)
Nebuchadnezzar (King of Babylon, 605-562 BC).
These are my new Gods. I hope to be able to worship each and every one at least once in my lifetime.
The Truth about my new Gods
Rehoboam, son of Solomon (King of Judah, 922-908 BC)
Methuselah (Biblical patriarch who lived to the age of 969)
Salmanazar (King of Assyria, 859-824 BC)
Balthazar (Regent of Babylon, son of Nabonide, 539BC)
Nebuchadnezzar (King of Babylon, 605-562 BC).
These are my new Gods. I hope to be able to worship each and every one at least once in my lifetime.
The Truth about my new Gods
Monday, April 21, 2003
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Bite my ass. Being childfree means you get a life full of freedom and extra cash. You don't have to be a dick about it too.
The Story About the Baby, Volume 30.
The Story About the Baby, Volume 30.
Essential Albums PT 4
1) "All About Me" - Me
2) "I'm Cool" - Myself
3) "We are Better Than You" - Me and My Friends
4) "My Talent Has No Bounds" - Self
5) "Dam, You're Too Good" - Everyone Else
6) "Ahead of My Time" - I and I
7) "We Rock the Harderest" - Us Rock
8) "My Music is Better than Your Music" - Me, Me and Me
9) "You Just Don't Get it Do You?" - Smarter Than You
10) "Greatest Polka Hits" - Weird Al Yankovic
1) "All About Me" - Me
2) "I'm Cool" - Myself
3) "We are Better Than You" - Me and My Friends
4) "My Talent Has No Bounds" - Self
5) "Dam, You're Too Good" - Everyone Else
6) "Ahead of My Time" - I and I
7) "We Rock the Harderest" - Us Rock
8) "My Music is Better than Your Music" - Me, Me and Me
9) "You Just Don't Get it Do You?" - Smarter Than You
10) "Greatest Polka Hits" - Weird Al Yankovic
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
Thursday, April 10, 2003
So due to an unintended redirection my wife-to-be found my blog. She always asked to read it, but I refused just to be a little brat.
So now she reads my blog.
But I refuse to curtail any information that I might have written before.
Like that time she was really drunk and I asked her and she said "I never done that before, but maybe just this once" and I ran from the bedroom to the garage to get the...
...maybe I will hold back just a little.
I LOVE YA BABE!
So now she reads my blog.
But I refuse to curtail any information that I might have written before.
Like that time she was really drunk and I asked her and she said "I never done that before, but maybe just this once" and I ran from the bedroom to the garage to get the...
...maybe I will hold back just a little.
I LOVE YA BABE!
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
“Weird, but in a good way.”
I think it was my friend Jill who first coined this phrase to describe me. It was the first year in which we met while going to school in Saskatoon. That was over ten years ago. I’ve since tried to live up to that. No wait! I just typed that sentence and realized it is a total lie. I’ve never tried to live up to that, I’ve just continued to be me. Do I live up to it? That’s for someone else to decide. It’s simply another person’s observation of me. But I think I know what it describes, deducting from what I’ve been told by friends who say it.
I like things. I like ideas. But moreover, I like new. And I like different. So if it’s a new and different thing or idea, I like it. And different sometime equates to weird. Sometimes these things are something I might wear. Sometimes these ideas are the way I might think. Things I own, things I do, things I say, might be weird to someone else. OK, I can understand that.
Onto the second half of the sentence, why is it in a good way? Again, it’s subjective (do I use a lot of apostrophes or what? that’s just weird :-). But from what I am told, it’s because it can be appreciated or at least understood. People look at the “weird” and can easily understand why I like it, or even like it themselves. They say “That’s so you.” I guess they can see where I’m coming from, what I’m thinking. And I’ve created a sort of communication with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m the king of cool, this isn’t me blowing my own horn. A lot of people just call me “freak” and shake their heads (my black kilt being a perfect example).
But most people get it. I show them some weird new thing I’ve made, bought or discovered and they say, “I can see why you like that.” Some even like the same things I do, which is fun. Or even better is when they give me a gift that reminded them of me and my “weird”. That is of the highest honor that a friend could bestow upon me. The most memorable being when my Mother gave me a Gumby and said “I bought this for you cause it’s bent and twisted like you.” I guess the leaf doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Smile.
I think it was my friend Jill who first coined this phrase to describe me. It was the first year in which we met while going to school in Saskatoon. That was over ten years ago. I’ve since tried to live up to that. No wait! I just typed that sentence and realized it is a total lie. I’ve never tried to live up to that, I’ve just continued to be me. Do I live up to it? That’s for someone else to decide. It’s simply another person’s observation of me. But I think I know what it describes, deducting from what I’ve been told by friends who say it.
I like things. I like ideas. But moreover, I like new. And I like different. So if it’s a new and different thing or idea, I like it. And different sometime equates to weird. Sometimes these things are something I might wear. Sometimes these ideas are the way I might think. Things I own, things I do, things I say, might be weird to someone else. OK, I can understand that.
Onto the second half of the sentence, why is it in a good way? Again, it’s subjective (do I use a lot of apostrophes or what? that’s just weird :-). But from what I am told, it’s because it can be appreciated or at least understood. People look at the “weird” and can easily understand why I like it, or even like it themselves. They say “That’s so you.” I guess they can see where I’m coming from, what I’m thinking. And I’ve created a sort of communication with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m the king of cool, this isn’t me blowing my own horn. A lot of people just call me “freak” and shake their heads (my black kilt being a perfect example).
But most people get it. I show them some weird new thing I’ve made, bought or discovered and they say, “I can see why you like that.” Some even like the same things I do, which is fun. Or even better is when they give me a gift that reminded them of me and my “weird”. That is of the highest honor that a friend could bestow upon me. The most memorable being when my Mother gave me a Gumby and said “I bought this for you cause it’s bent and twisted like you.” I guess the leaf doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Smile.
Friday, April 04, 2003
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Cirque du Soleil
Sometimes good things happen. I've seen Mystere and "O" already. But I presently have tickets to see "O" in Vegas again after being married in June and I just bought tickets to see "Alegria" in Vancouver in July.
Run on sentence? Yes I am rambling happily!
Sometimes good things happen. I've seen Mystere and "O" already. But I presently have tickets to see "O" in Vegas again after being married in June and I just bought tickets to see "Alegria" in Vancouver in July.
Run on sentence? Yes I am rambling happily!
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Blind Date Pronounces Every Syllable Of Word 'Comfortable'
INDIANAPOLIS—In what Melissa Mathis, 30, termed "a deal-breaker," blind date Jeff Rochlin, 33, pronounced every syllable of the word "comfortable" Tuesday. "We sat down at the table, and he said, 'This booth's really com-fort-a-ble,'" Mathis recalled. "Then, a little while later, he said something about the 'grilled veg-e-ta-bles.' I'm sorry, but there's no way I could date a guy like that."
INDIANAPOLIS—In what Melissa Mathis, 30, termed "a deal-breaker," blind date Jeff Rochlin, 33, pronounced every syllable of the word "comfortable" Tuesday. "We sat down at the table, and he said, 'This booth's really com-fort-a-ble,'" Mathis recalled. "Then, a little while later, he said something about the 'grilled veg-e-ta-bles.' I'm sorry, but there's no way I could date a guy like that."
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
"But still, it is much better than living in some box shaped apartment with psychoes for neighbors, or sharing garbage bins with several other tennents. Nope, apartment living sucks!"
All things Ken
These words he speaks are true.
Fuck. Still packing. Still moving. Still being sued.
All things Ken
These words he speaks are true.
Fuck. Still packing. Still moving. Still being sued.
Monday, March 17, 2003
"I like the sound of scissors cutting. I like the sound of water and I like the sound of trees in the wind."
- Cat Power
- Cat Power
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
According to noted psychotherapist Dr. Howard Blum, Riesman suffers from a condition known as Chronic Unfulfilled Desire Syndrome, which affects a person's ability to let go of childhood fixations and embrace maturity.
"Some people are never able to overcome CUDS—it can't be medicated," Blum said. "The only thing an afflicted individual can do is try to curb those youthful desires while still in their twenties and pray they aren't still pursuing them at 45. There's nothing sadder than a middle-aged Pez-dispenser collector."
"Some people are never able to overcome CUDS—it can't be medicated," Blum said. "The only thing an afflicted individual can do is try to curb those youthful desires while still in their twenties and pray they aren't still pursuing them at 45. There's nothing sadder than a middle-aged Pez-dispenser collector."
Friday, March 07, 2003
I've decided that with some of the crazy things that have been happening in my life that I need to do something drastic. My life has become of late very busy. I've never really lived a busy life, I'm lazy by nature, just ask my Dad. But with my job becoming a career that deserves and requires extra effort and my home life suddenly turned upside down, I need to find extra time and energy. Everyone else always complains about how busy they are and I never fully understood. I've never been too busy to sit down and drink beer and watch tv. But now I understand them and I'm just as busy as they are. But I still want to sit down and drink beer and watch television. So I need extra energy and effort to get all this crap done and still have that time to relax. Or at least try and relax. So I'm going to do something drastic. I'm going to take drugs. Yes, I am going to take drugs so that I can keep up with this hectic new lifestyle. In fact, I think I better indulge right now, as it's friday afternoon and I'm slowing down. And the weekend is going to be even more physical effort. So I'm going to do something I haven't done since I was a crazy hopped up kid in my twenties. I'm gonna do drugs. I need to. I have to. There is no other option. It's the only way I can help myself, by medicating myself. I don't want to do it, I've been clean for so many years now. I only hope it doesn't become such an addiction again. But I must. I'm going to go do it right now, before I change my mind. I'm going to have a coffee.
I hate that it came to this.
I hate that it came to this.
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Due to legal reasons and the fact that it's a leaky condo we are being forced to sell our 2 bedroom at a loss and move into the 1 bedroom (which is still under repair and way too small for us).
This is going to suck. A lot.
We lose money and have to live in a small leaky apartment for the next few years.
And there is someone to blame. Which makes it only easier to be angry.
Bright side is that is has a great patio.
oh well.
change sucks.
This is going to suck. A lot.
We lose money and have to live in a small leaky apartment for the next few years.
And there is someone to blame. Which makes it only easier to be angry.
Bright side is that is has a great patio.
oh well.
change sucks.
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Monday, February 10, 2003
Got this off of everything2.com
It ain't about me, but I lived it.
Sad part is, I already know how it ends and he doesn't.
------------------------------------
I generally don't have to work too hard to make a date interesting and memorable. I'm a strange attractor, a chaote magnet; weirdness comes to me -- and the women I date tend to be chaotic themselves. Jessica (the young woman I've been utterly infatuated with these last three weeks or so) is no exception. She gives the impression of having gone to sleep in the Victorian era and awakened in the modern day, displeased with what she finds here but determined to make the best of it, brightening everyone's day with her quiet grace, her faultless politeness and soft-spoken kindness, her quick mind and vast store of knowledge.
This impression is furthered by the fact that with her long straight ravenblack hair (soft and sweet, falling past her waist), sharp and lively eyes of grey-green (large and all too easy to get lost in), pale features (carved of ivory, yea, with rosebud lips, even) and delicate dancer's figure (fragile and sweet in one's arms), she resembles the heroine of a gothic romance or tragic opera, in her flowing black satin skirt and dark charcoal half-cloak.
All of these factors combine to make me turn into a gibbering idiot, barely capable of speech for the first few minutes of catching sight of her after an absence of more than a few minutes. I do relax very quickly, because she's easy to talk to and, more amazingly, she seems to return my affections. She avoids relationships like the plague, for various and sundry personal reasons, so the very fact that this was our fourth date (in less than a week!) was a good sign. We'd had conversations... ah, but I'm getting sidetracked.
We met up at the Aurafice Cafe & Internet Bar on Pike and Boyleston, a favorite old haunt of both of ours, and it was open mic night, something I normally avoid. Julie (a superbly talented teenager) was just finishing her set, playing her young heart out on the violin, and I was beginning to question my policy of avoidance. Her music whirled and dove its way through the air to the corner table where Jessica and I were sitting, and we relaxed into each other, enjoying the contact and the music and the moment. Jessica's hand fell lightly onto mine, and stayed there. I thought for a moment that perhaps this just might end happily after all, as Julie unchinned her violin and took her bows, sliding onto the big floppy red couch by the stage and lovingly replacing her instrument in its case.
When someone finishes their set on an open mic night, there is a sudden flux of patrons in and out of the little coffeeshop as people scramble to enter, leave or purchase coffee without interrupting a performance. Among those entering after Julie's set was a dark-skinned man in weary bluejeans and a goretex jacket. He stood out among the regular Aurafice crowd of cyberpunky Seattle goths, gutterpunks, geeks and indie kids, with his dingy and worn yuppie clothes and the booze on his breath.
"Step on up, the mic is open," said the MC, replacing Julie onstage. He was friendly-looking and blonde, with a scar on his chin. "We're already done with our scheduled performers for tonight; who else wants to come up here?"
And the dark-skinned man spoke. "Yeah, man, I got something to say, I got something to talk about." The MC nodded and gave him the mic. "Yeah," said the dark-skinned man again. "My name's Johnny."
The audience watched, quietly and politely, waiting. Jessica looked up from her book, which she had slipped into during the intermission, and replaced the bookmark, interested.
"So I just got off a train from New Orleans. That's what I do these days, I ride the trains. And I go to places like this and rap at people like you. And, shit, I wish I'da known I was coming, I would have practiced more, but this is what you get, boys and girls. The act I'm about to do is sort of a tribute to the great Richard Prior, who maybe you've heard of and maybe you haven't, and I hope you find it enlight'nin'."
And Johnny began to tell a story, so thick with slang it reminded me of a Lord Buckley rap, so thick that I could barely follow it. It was about an ex-con, looking for a job at the Employment Office, who throws up on the carpet and refuses to clean it up. A cop on duty tries to persuade the ex-con, who responds with threats of violence. "Do that and I'll have to shoot you," says the cop. "Yeah, then who's gonna clean up the blood, asshole?" says the ex-con.
"Such language," whispered Jessica, slightly reproving. She is, perhaps, the only woman I have yet met to whom the phrase "ladylike" actually applies in the classical sense.
I am not exactly that comfortable with the '03 zeitgeist myself, and while I can navigate Jane Austen well, and pronounce Chaucer properly most of the time, I found myself struggling to keep up with Johnny's scatological story. I guess everyone else must have followed it, though, because he got a big laugh at the end and a round of applause. Jessica and I exchanged confused looks and shrugged, applauding out of politeness more than anything.
Johnny got down off the stage and (Jessica bit her lip fretfully) walked straight over to us, sitting down. Now that I could see him up close, I saw that his left eye was squinting and ruby-red from burst blood vessels, and that while I had originally taken him for African-American, he must be at least part Asian, with pronounced epicanthic eye folds. He had a gravelly voice that was still somehow pleasant, like an old jazz singer, and I couldn't decide whether I thought he was a likeable weirdo or creepy stalker. Jessica, who tends to be a bit uncomfortable around strangers in general (since they tend to have Ulterior Motives, and she's much too sweet-natured to be rude to them), looked like she wanted to crawl under a rock.
"So," Johnny asked, looking from me to Jessica and back, smiling, "was it love at first sight?"
I wince. Jessica blushes prettily. "...we're just friends," she whispers.
It was for me, I thought to myself, a little bitterly.
"You are?" says Johnny. "But the two of you seem so -- together. Why aren't you?"
"Because I'm too independent," she said, a little louder. Which was more or less the reason we weren't in a relationship after Date #2, given our admitted interest in one another; why is it that every women I fall for is terrified of intimacy and committment, no matter how much she cares about me?
Johnny nodded. "I understand. You're a strange one, a unique one, I don't think I've ever seen anything like you before." I had to agree. Jessica is one of a kind.
He turned his attention to me. "But you -- you, I have met before. There are a lot of you. By looking in your eyes, I can tell what you do. You used to work with databases, filling them with information about the health of other computers."
I blinked, suprised. The guy was getting weird and mystical, but that was okay, I can be that way myself. And he'd just given a serviceable description of the last major project I worked on, a network monitoring and trending tool, where I rewrote some of the database schema. "That's ... what I used to do, yes. Back when I had a job." Bitterness, again. The dotcom layoff blues.
"Yeah. Times are tough, man, times are tough." Johnny nodded sympathetically. He got up and wandered off, talking to a few other people. Jessica and I soon decided to leave, already seriously weirded out by the encounter, and uncomfortable with each other now that the tremendous chemistry between us -- and her reluctance to do anything about it -- had been brought up yet again. She was sick and exhausted and needed to go home, her thin pale body shivering under her heavy wool half-cloak. I strove to drive the inevitable comparisons to the consumptive heroine of La Boheme from my mind as I helped her up, offering her my arm as we headed out of the coffeeshop.
"Hey, you takin' off, guys?" Johnny, from behind us. Jessica and I both wince, and turn.
"Yes, Jessica needs to go home; she's not well."
"Oh, all right. Listen, it was good to meet you two. You're good people. But lemme give you a piece of advice, my friend," he said to me. He put an arm on my shoulder and spoke quietly. "You'll never get her," he said, and Jessica suddenly had a very suspicious coughing fit. "And it'll hurt and you won't understand why not. And she'll go for someone else, and you won't understand why. She'll go for someone totally opposite -- sorta like I was twenty years ago..."
Shut up, I wanted to yell, just shut the fuck up. Don't tell me this is like one of those old parables where you meet an old madman on the road, and he turns out to be a god or a spirit with a prophetic vision. Don't let this be a fucking omen. This is too important to me. I'm already falling in love and it's too damn late and she likes me too, damnit. I pursed my lips and smirked. "Thank you -- but I have to try. By my Word, I'll make my own reality."
Johnny nodded. His squinting, blood-red eye reminded me of Odin and the eye he sacrificed for knowledge and insight. "Yeah. I know. Good night, man." And he headed back down the street, heading for the center of town and the wider world.
Jessica and I linked arms again and resumed our walk to her car, her coughing fit having subsided. "Well. That was... interesting," I said. "He certainly was... insightful."
"He had a certain fractured vision," Jessica said in quiet, meditative tones, coming to a stop as we reached her car. "But he wasn't right about everything," she said, smiling up at me. "I'll see you Wednesday for coffee and drinks and dancing?"
"Of course," I said, willing all of my vaunted eloquence to the fore and finding it useless, wanting to praise her mind and heart and beauty, and not even knowing where to start. And most of my processor cycles were already taken up with trying to figure out what she meant by Johnny "not being right about everything," and that little smile.
I hugged her and received a kiss on the cheek, a long sweet moment, before regretfully sending her on her way.
The struggle against the will of the gods is one of the noblest of all to me. It is the struggle for freedom, the struggle for self-will and self-determination, the refusal to be stuck with someone else's ineffable plan. The struggle to be something more than a toy or a pawn. And if Johnny was a prophet (shades of Tank Girl), come to warn me, then I thank him for his warning.
But baby, we've come a long way since Prometheus, and love is a power of its own. I will not give up hope until it is clear that I must; my soul requires that I try. For I know that while it would be a transitory thing, it would also be a heartbreaking, beautiful, inspiring thing. And that's what I live for.
It ain't about me, but I lived it.
Sad part is, I already know how it ends and he doesn't.
------------------------------------
I generally don't have to work too hard to make a date interesting and memorable. I'm a strange attractor, a chaote magnet; weirdness comes to me -- and the women I date tend to be chaotic themselves. Jessica (the young woman I've been utterly infatuated with these last three weeks or so) is no exception. She gives the impression of having gone to sleep in the Victorian era and awakened in the modern day, displeased with what she finds here but determined to make the best of it, brightening everyone's day with her quiet grace, her faultless politeness and soft-spoken kindness, her quick mind and vast store of knowledge.
This impression is furthered by the fact that with her long straight ravenblack hair (soft and sweet, falling past her waist), sharp and lively eyes of grey-green (large and all too easy to get lost in), pale features (carved of ivory, yea, with rosebud lips, even) and delicate dancer's figure (fragile and sweet in one's arms), she resembles the heroine of a gothic romance or tragic opera, in her flowing black satin skirt and dark charcoal half-cloak.
All of these factors combine to make me turn into a gibbering idiot, barely capable of speech for the first few minutes of catching sight of her after an absence of more than a few minutes. I do relax very quickly, because she's easy to talk to and, more amazingly, she seems to return my affections. She avoids relationships like the plague, for various and sundry personal reasons, so the very fact that this was our fourth date (in less than a week!) was a good sign. We'd had conversations... ah, but I'm getting sidetracked.
We met up at the Aurafice Cafe & Internet Bar on Pike and Boyleston, a favorite old haunt of both of ours, and it was open mic night, something I normally avoid. Julie (a superbly talented teenager) was just finishing her set, playing her young heart out on the violin, and I was beginning to question my policy of avoidance. Her music whirled and dove its way through the air to the corner table where Jessica and I were sitting, and we relaxed into each other, enjoying the contact and the music and the moment. Jessica's hand fell lightly onto mine, and stayed there. I thought for a moment that perhaps this just might end happily after all, as Julie unchinned her violin and took her bows, sliding onto the big floppy red couch by the stage and lovingly replacing her instrument in its case.
When someone finishes their set on an open mic night, there is a sudden flux of patrons in and out of the little coffeeshop as people scramble to enter, leave or purchase coffee without interrupting a performance. Among those entering after Julie's set was a dark-skinned man in weary bluejeans and a goretex jacket. He stood out among the regular Aurafice crowd of cyberpunky Seattle goths, gutterpunks, geeks and indie kids, with his dingy and worn yuppie clothes and the booze on his breath.
"Step on up, the mic is open," said the MC, replacing Julie onstage. He was friendly-looking and blonde, with a scar on his chin. "We're already done with our scheduled performers for tonight; who else wants to come up here?"
And the dark-skinned man spoke. "Yeah, man, I got something to say, I got something to talk about." The MC nodded and gave him the mic. "Yeah," said the dark-skinned man again. "My name's Johnny."
The audience watched, quietly and politely, waiting. Jessica looked up from her book, which she had slipped into during the intermission, and replaced the bookmark, interested.
"So I just got off a train from New Orleans. That's what I do these days, I ride the trains. And I go to places like this and rap at people like you. And, shit, I wish I'da known I was coming, I would have practiced more, but this is what you get, boys and girls. The act I'm about to do is sort of a tribute to the great Richard Prior, who maybe you've heard of and maybe you haven't, and I hope you find it enlight'nin'."
And Johnny began to tell a story, so thick with slang it reminded me of a Lord Buckley rap, so thick that I could barely follow it. It was about an ex-con, looking for a job at the Employment Office, who throws up on the carpet and refuses to clean it up. A cop on duty tries to persuade the ex-con, who responds with threats of violence. "Do that and I'll have to shoot you," says the cop. "Yeah, then who's gonna clean up the blood, asshole?" says the ex-con.
"Such language," whispered Jessica, slightly reproving. She is, perhaps, the only woman I have yet met to whom the phrase "ladylike" actually applies in the classical sense.
I am not exactly that comfortable with the '03 zeitgeist myself, and while I can navigate Jane Austen well, and pronounce Chaucer properly most of the time, I found myself struggling to keep up with Johnny's scatological story. I guess everyone else must have followed it, though, because he got a big laugh at the end and a round of applause. Jessica and I exchanged confused looks and shrugged, applauding out of politeness more than anything.
Johnny got down off the stage and (Jessica bit her lip fretfully) walked straight over to us, sitting down. Now that I could see him up close, I saw that his left eye was squinting and ruby-red from burst blood vessels, and that while I had originally taken him for African-American, he must be at least part Asian, with pronounced epicanthic eye folds. He had a gravelly voice that was still somehow pleasant, like an old jazz singer, and I couldn't decide whether I thought he was a likeable weirdo or creepy stalker. Jessica, who tends to be a bit uncomfortable around strangers in general (since they tend to have Ulterior Motives, and she's much too sweet-natured to be rude to them), looked like she wanted to crawl under a rock.
"So," Johnny asked, looking from me to Jessica and back, smiling, "was it love at first sight?"
I wince. Jessica blushes prettily. "...we're just friends," she whispers.
It was for me, I thought to myself, a little bitterly.
"You are?" says Johnny. "But the two of you seem so -- together. Why aren't you?"
"Because I'm too independent," she said, a little louder. Which was more or less the reason we weren't in a relationship after Date #2, given our admitted interest in one another; why is it that every women I fall for is terrified of intimacy and committment, no matter how much she cares about me?
Johnny nodded. "I understand. You're a strange one, a unique one, I don't think I've ever seen anything like you before." I had to agree. Jessica is one of a kind.
He turned his attention to me. "But you -- you, I have met before. There are a lot of you. By looking in your eyes, I can tell what you do. You used to work with databases, filling them with information about the health of other computers."
I blinked, suprised. The guy was getting weird and mystical, but that was okay, I can be that way myself. And he'd just given a serviceable description of the last major project I worked on, a network monitoring and trending tool, where I rewrote some of the database schema. "That's ... what I used to do, yes. Back when I had a job." Bitterness, again. The dotcom layoff blues.
"Yeah. Times are tough, man, times are tough." Johnny nodded sympathetically. He got up and wandered off, talking to a few other people. Jessica and I soon decided to leave, already seriously weirded out by the encounter, and uncomfortable with each other now that the tremendous chemistry between us -- and her reluctance to do anything about it -- had been brought up yet again. She was sick and exhausted and needed to go home, her thin pale body shivering under her heavy wool half-cloak. I strove to drive the inevitable comparisons to the consumptive heroine of La Boheme from my mind as I helped her up, offering her my arm as we headed out of the coffeeshop.
"Hey, you takin' off, guys?" Johnny, from behind us. Jessica and I both wince, and turn.
"Yes, Jessica needs to go home; she's not well."
"Oh, all right. Listen, it was good to meet you two. You're good people. But lemme give you a piece of advice, my friend," he said to me. He put an arm on my shoulder and spoke quietly. "You'll never get her," he said, and Jessica suddenly had a very suspicious coughing fit. "And it'll hurt and you won't understand why not. And she'll go for someone else, and you won't understand why. She'll go for someone totally opposite -- sorta like I was twenty years ago..."
Shut up, I wanted to yell, just shut the fuck up. Don't tell me this is like one of those old parables where you meet an old madman on the road, and he turns out to be a god or a spirit with a prophetic vision. Don't let this be a fucking omen. This is too important to me. I'm already falling in love and it's too damn late and she likes me too, damnit. I pursed my lips and smirked. "Thank you -- but I have to try. By my Word, I'll make my own reality."
Johnny nodded. His squinting, blood-red eye reminded me of Odin and the eye he sacrificed for knowledge and insight. "Yeah. I know. Good night, man." And he headed back down the street, heading for the center of town and the wider world.
Jessica and I linked arms again and resumed our walk to her car, her coughing fit having subsided. "Well. That was... interesting," I said. "He certainly was... insightful."
"He had a certain fractured vision," Jessica said in quiet, meditative tones, coming to a stop as we reached her car. "But he wasn't right about everything," she said, smiling up at me. "I'll see you Wednesday for coffee and drinks and dancing?"
"Of course," I said, willing all of my vaunted eloquence to the fore and finding it useless, wanting to praise her mind and heart and beauty, and not even knowing where to start. And most of my processor cycles were already taken up with trying to figure out what she meant by Johnny "not being right about everything," and that little smile.
I hugged her and received a kiss on the cheek, a long sweet moment, before regretfully sending her on her way.
The struggle against the will of the gods is one of the noblest of all to me. It is the struggle for freedom, the struggle for self-will and self-determination, the refusal to be stuck with someone else's ineffable plan. The struggle to be something more than a toy or a pawn. And if Johnny was a prophet (shades of Tank Girl), come to warn me, then I thank him for his warning.
But baby, we've come a long way since Prometheus, and love is a power of its own. I will not give up hope until it is clear that I must; my soul requires that I try. For I know that while it would be a transitory thing, it would also be a heartbreaking, beautiful, inspiring thing. And that's what I live for.
Friday, February 07, 2003
The fact that you make no sense doesn't mean you're an artist.
It's become increasingly trendy to take something that makes no sense at all, and bend it around to some kind of artistic meaning. I see this all the time. I see it in liberal arts majors. I see it in music. I see it in movies. I see it in psychology. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. If something appears not to have a meaning, 99 times out of 10, it just doesn't. So, instead of framing a dead bird on the wall and calling it avant-garde post-modernistic art, call it a dead bird, and let the rest of us get back to sleep.
-someone else
It's become increasingly trendy to take something that makes no sense at all, and bend it around to some kind of artistic meaning. I see this all the time. I see it in liberal arts majors. I see it in music. I see it in movies. I see it in psychology. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. If something appears not to have a meaning, 99 times out of 10, it just doesn't. So, instead of framing a dead bird on the wall and calling it avant-garde post-modernistic art, call it a dead bird, and let the rest of us get back to sleep.
-someone else
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Tuesday, April 3, 2001 No one's laughing By MICHELLE LANG of The Leader-Post Neil Ross woke up Saturday morning to read h...