Bears

Q: What is more menacing than 600 lbs of muscle and fury?



A: 1500 lbs of muscle and fury.




don't mess with bears.

courier new

i tried changing the font of the blog to courier new. blogger only gives us courier. and it makes the titles courier. i dont want them to be courier. i want the text to be courier. i think it gives it a more classic feel. like a typewriter. everyone loves typewriters. not everyone loves typewriters. i love typewriters. and its the block lettering. every character takes up the same amount of space. its so..............symmetrical.

so i resolved to use html to see if it would give me courier new. granted, i'll have to put in the code each time i blog, but maybe itll just be a welcome change every now and then. ill probably get lazy and stop doing it.

trebuchet isnt that bad anyway. i rather enjoy it...


i hope this worked.

That's not entirely true!!!

haha why did i say i dont really have any projects going on?!


so i saw a man today. i thought he looked like jesus.

then i thought about it a little more...


turns out he looked more like rob zombie.






whats that say about the way jesus looked?
whats that say about the way rob zombie looks?
what does that say about the way THIS guy looks??
WHATS THAT SAY ABOUT MY THOUGHTS ABOUT JESUS AND/OR ROB ZOMBIE?????
WHATS THAT SAY ABOUT THE CORRELATION BETWEEN ROB ZOMBIE AND JESUS CHRIST????????
is there a correlation??? is it a positive or negative correlation?
too many questions. not enough answers.

The Ovechkin Complex

before you say anything, yes i know im a penguins fan and yes, i know this is gonna seem like a fanboy ranting against the arch nemesis of his favorite hero. but hear me out. there's evidence now. we all know about the mind boggling vendetta Alex Ovechkin has against Evgeni Malkin. the NATION knows about it. sports writers across the country have written about how they have NEVER in their careers witnessed a superstar continuously go out of his way to attempt to injure another star player. NEVER. there's a reason ovechkin doesn't score against the penguins. there's probably a few. but one of them is certainly that he constantly leaves his position to chase after malkin and land a punishing hit on him. ALWAYS. EVERY SHIFT. THIS is the player everyone is raving about? the team player? the man who just loves the game of hockey? THIS is the man that is supposed to be equal to if not better than sidney crosby?

i have consistently tried to keep out of the AO/SID debates. i have steered clear because they are both great players. albeit, in different ways. sidney crosby is a playmaker. he has unheard of vision on the ice and can pass a puck through the eye of a needle. ovechkin is a goal scorer. he has a great shot and the selfish, puck hogging brain needed for a 60 goal scorer. he takes countless amounts of shots. but this is where i draw the line. crosby doesn't leave his position to take revenge or set an example or whatever reason. he plays the game. and he plays it well. he plays smart hockey. he knows his position. he is there to feed pucks and create distractions. as a captain he is there to discuss any discrepancies with the referees. that is his JOB. though some people refer to it as whining.

ovechkin needs to grow up.

Part VI: Read Something Else First

The man walked for weeks without seeing a thing. It seemed as if the horsemen took with them every shred of what little life had been in that desert. The gila noticed this too, and began to become suspicious of the man's motives. He was beginning to get hungry and had been searching for days for something. Anything. To eat. A storm brewed in the distance to the east. In fact, a storm brewed to the west. Actually, the man stopped for a moment and scrunched his face in thought. He looked to his left. And his right. Then in front of him and quickly spun around to his back. The storm surrounded him on all sides. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled far off in the distance. The man stared straight ahead.
"Perhaps we should set up camp or something."
The gila glanced up at him but the man's eyes never left the horizon ahead. A little unnerved, as the man had never before attempted to set up any kind of shelter, the gila simply set his eyes on whatever it was the man was staring at. The man took a step forward. The gila followed suit. Then another step. And another. The gila should have known the man didn't mean what he said. Why should he stop now?
Suddenly a loud roar quickly brought the monster back into focus. He pinned himself to the man's shoe and frantically searched for the source of the sound. There, in front of the duo, were two chain posts. Where had they come from? They certainly hadn't been there before. Connected to each chain post was a steel chain. Connected to each chain was a steel collar. One collar wrapped around the neck of a small lamb, laying down calmly against the desert floor. The other, however, restrained a large lion, fighting with all its enormous might to free itself from its bondage to get within reach of the lamb. The man and consequently, the gila, were quite closer to the lion than the lamb was, but the beast paid them no mind. It wanted one thing, and one thing only. The man stared at the ground, at the chain post that tethered the cat to the ground. It wasn't holding. Slowly, the post pulled out of the ground, angling itself towards the lion and its prey. Inch by inch, the silver shaft of steel wrenched free of earth, bringing the predator's deadly claws closer to the throat of the oblivious lamb. With each lunge, each roar, each inch, the lamb was closer to death. It, however, simply lay, watching the means of its inevitable end try desperately to free itself. The post was now nearly a foot longer than the man had initially thought, but still it held. The lion showed no exhaustion, it maniacally lunged towards the helpless lamb, slashing claws and gnashing teeth.
Saliva dripped from the lion's jaws as, with a fire in its eye, it clawed at the ground, pulling the stake further from its position.
The man watched in horror as the lion made one last attempt, pulling the iron stake free from its hold in the earth, and lunging towards the calm lamb. What could he do? He could not be expected to stop the onslaught of a hungry, crazed lion. Especially one that stood taller than he. The animal leapt over the lamb and just as his claws buried into the lamb's flesh, the lamb jumped up, tearing at the lion's mane with its own teeth, pinning the cat to the ground and ripping apart its throat. The lion was instantly still and the man could clearly see his esophagus pulled from its skin. Quick, thick spurts of blood measured the lion's slowing heartbeat as the lamb remained hovering above the body. As the trails of blood softened, the lamb bit into the belly of the beast, tearing a long line of hide from the lion's underside, spilling its organs onto the desert floor. With that, the lamb looked up at the man, head spattered with lion blood, and let out a loud baaa. Upon which the lamb closed its eyes and fell limp to the earth. The man stood shocked. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open, he couldn't move. The gila, however, saw a grand opportunity. He worked his way over to the carcass and gorged himself on whatever smelled to his liking. He was hungry. This meal was a godsend.

the meaning of life

bruises healing
range of motion back in the neck
hearing back
constant ringing in the ears has subsided

just in time for...

Not that obama's win has anything to do with my thoughts concerning this holiday...

Remember, remember the fifth of November
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow
By God's mercy he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and lighted match.
Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o' cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A fagot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we'll say ol' Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

IN ANY CASE.

Busy Signal

its not you, its me.

maybe soon.
maybe later.
maybe even never.

wouldn't be the first time

Intermission: Too Many Long Posts

lets keep this one short.
idk. is it worth continuing?
does it matter what happens next?
are any of these things coming together to form a real plot?

is there anybody out there?
is there anybody out there?
is there anybody




out there?

Part V: Read Parts I - IV First

The sun was once again high in the sky, beating proudly its heat upon the man and his reptilian follower, seemingly unknowing of its tired fate only eight or so hours from this point. The man continued relentlessly, unfazed by the terrible heat. His mouth was dry and his stomach empty, but the man couldn't stop now. He was well on his way. The gila didn't mind; he ate no more than five times in a year. Despite earlier doubts, he was now convinced that these mammals took the same schedule. He was however, growing very tired, as the quickened pace he needed to keep up with the man was far faster than a normal gila will move. He was used to conserving his energy, what little he had, and slinking slowly across the warm sand. The man rejuvenated his energy though, and he was surprised he could keep up with him as long as he had. The gila pushed these thoughts from his mind and focused on the trail. It always came back to the trail. Every thought or doubt either of the two travelers had was always subdued by thoughts of the trail. It must have been important for that reason.

As the sun hit its highest point in the sky, the man thought he heard a whinny. He stopped and looked around him. Nothing but sand surrounded him. Soon though, he heard the muted tapping of hooves running through sand. He turned quickly and no sooner did his head reach around his shoulder than a horse of pure white flew directly past his face. Startled, the man stumbled back and the rider of the horse pulled back his reins and turned so the broad side of the milky horse faced the man. The horse trotted in place as the man observed the apparition in front of him. The rider wore a white robe and held the reins in his right hand. In the same hand was a longbow and atop his head, a crown. The man sported a thick red beard and had a very viking appearance, despite his attire. The rider lifted his huge left hand and pointed past the man, into the distance behind him. The man turned and seeing nothing, returned his gaze upon the rider and his horse. But the horseman had fled, and it was so far in the distance, it was as if he had never stopped to greet the man. Was he greeting him? The man turned once again to the scene behind him, but this time he did see something. A second horse was arriving quickly, its rider riding low, dragging something across the sands. This horse was a beautiful brown, one could almost mistake it for a burnt red color. The rider wore a brilliant scarlet garment that ran up over his head and covered his face. He sped by the man who saw now that he was dragging a large broadsword, marking his trail behind him. The rider never stopped as the first did, only continued pursuit of the white horse, though the man doubted he would ever catch him.
The man looked behind him again, to be sure another ghost (at this point he very much doubted the riders' actual existence) wasn't following. He brushed off his suit once more, returned to his original position, directly in line with his previous footprints, and stepped forward once more. Strange, he thought, the only two men I've seen since the journey began and neither of them bothered to ask my business in the desert. He was, in fact, ill prepared for a journey through the desert, and perhaps this was the first time he noticed. Both of the riders wore more appropriate garb for a trip in the desert, and they both had better modes of transport. The man pondered this thought for a moment but, not able to find a logical answer, determined that they were simply ghosts, with no real minds of their own. There had probably been an epic battle here centuries ago, and the two riders were mere memories to the aging sands.

Part IV: Read Parts I - III First

Blood still dripped from the man's lips as he continued down the invisible path in the moonlight. The gila monster peeked out of the man's pocket every once in awhile, but only saw the same scene in front of him. Sand. The desert was an endless ocean of sand and wind. No one in this man's position could make it out alive. But then, to the gila monster's knowledge, this man wasn't ordinary. Apart from the meager meals the gila witnessed, the man hadn't eaten or drank anything in days. Who is he to say what is normal for a human though? This was in fact, the first he's ever met. He seemed nice enough, engaging the gila in pleasant conversation and even letting him ride in his pocket during the chilled nights. He liked the man. He was actually going quite a distance out of his way just to accompany the man. The man needed him, he thought. How else could he navigate through the harsh desert sun without a local to help guide him? And the snake! Surely, the man would be dead of venom if it hadn't been for the gila! This is how the gila monster justified its venturing far out of his normal routine and his infatuation with the human being. The gila, then realizing this fine opportunity, curled up inside the man's pocket, and fell asleep.

--------------------

The man could feel the gila curling up inside his jacket pocket and smiled to himself. The poor creature followed him without fail but this wasn't its journey to make. The journey was for the man alone. In a way, he admired the gila monster. He admired the loyalty it had for a man it had never met. A man that had never done anything to earn its loyalty. A man that had hardly earned loyalty from anyone in his life. The admiration soon turned into confusion. Why did the gila have such loyalty for the man? It didn't make sense. The man couldn't even remember when he first met the gila. Surely it was after the journey had begun, but he couldn't be sure. With an imaginary shrug of the shoulders, the man shook these thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the journey ahead of him. The night was long, but cool, and the moonlight turned the sandy dunes an eerie shade of gray. They moved, or at least they seemed to. In the distance mostly. They rolled, as if waves of a churning ocean, down, then up, then down again. It may have been the man's own motions, up and down the dunes, but no...he couldn't be moving that fast. No, in fact, the dunes he was walking on moved too. The entire desert moved in the moonlight. Up and down. Up and down. The waves lurched him forward as he walked. He prayed he wouldn't lose his bearings and his path, but what good is prayer in a time like this? Another wave came from behind him, catching him off guard, catapulting the man into the air. As he came down, the man splashed into the sand, chest high. The waves crashed over his head, as he fought hard to keep his head above the sand. He gripped his briefcase tightly as wave upon wave of sand smothered him. The man was losing his strength. With each wave that crashed over his head, the man sank deeper and deeper into the sand. Finally, the man took one last breath and his head was covered with the next passing wave.

He was standing. He hadn't moved for a few minutes now. The moon had retired and the sun was coming up. The man looked around him, not entirely remembering why he stopped moving forward. The marks in the sand indicated a struggle, but the man was clean of sand and the gila monster remained asleep in his pocket. He decided not to take notice and, checking his $1200 gold watch, the man continued on his path. As the sun raised its head over the most distant dunes, the gila monster awoke. It climbed from the man's pocket, falling to the desert floor. It regained its position to the man's left. Looking down, the man smiled at the reptile. "Ready for another day?" he asked. The gila looked up momentarily, then continued at the rapid pace it had become accustomed to, trying to keep up with the man's elongated stride. The man was growing weary of the reptile's silence. But he paid no mind, focusing on the horizon and continuing on.

Part III: Read Parts I & II First

The sun must have been exhausted because it was no longer able to keep its high position in the sky. Neither did it shine so brilliantly and neither still did it release such destructive rays. Instead it drifted slowly beneath the horizon, painting brilliant reds and purples against the clouds in the distance. A coyote howled. The man turned his head to see which direction the sound came from but saw nothing. Turning back to his front, the man was startled to see a pair of coyotes staring back at him. Sitting side by side, the dogs grinned, tongues hanging to the side. One of the animals stood up and circled the man and the monster, snapping his jaws at the air. The other sat silently, panting as if they had just enjoyed a long, winded run. The one that circled them, however, did not pant at all, only snapped his jaws to the left and to the right, as if he was performing a ritual dance around the man and his companion. Upon completing the circle and returning to his original position next to his noticeably smaller partner, the coyote leaned down and stretched out his forelegs, laying his head down at his paws. Or was he bowing? The man would have not thought it odd if he were, but as soon as his muzzle touched his paws, the animal leapt up with fire in his eyes, snarling and opening his jaws wide, aiming directly for the man's throat. The man fell backwards screaming and covered his face with his hands. He braced his body against the sand for impact but never felt it. Opening his eyes, he looked around him and saw no trace of the wild dogs. The gila sat upright near his briefcase, which he had thrown in his desperation. The man shook the sand out of each shoe and stood up, once again straightening his jacket and tie, retrieved his briefcase and continued on his way. The gila quickly followed suit. Dusk had long passed and the only sign of light came from a sliver of moon that hid behind a thick cover of clouds.
The temperature had dropped substantially and with it, the cold blooded gila's ability to keep in step with the man. The man noticed and bent down to pick up the creature. The gila obliged and the man lifted it into his pocket. Peeking out, the gila now had a birds eye view of their destination. Surprisingly, it looked the same three inches off the ground. After another while, the man stumbled across another cactus plant. He stopped, as the small, bulbous plant lay directly in his path. The man thought a minute about what to do, and then decided to sit down and enjoy the cactus' company. Setting his briefcase down, the man asked the plant what it did for a living. Hearing no reply, the man assumed the plant must've been an employee at one of the four firms that were consumed by the mega firm he now led.

"I'm terribly sorry for your misfortune," the man said upon his conclusion, "but I'm afraid business is business. I'm sure you understand perfectly."

The gila tilted his head to one side, observing the man's actions.

"Trust me, ma'am," the man continued, noticing the flower that topped the small desert plant, "if I were able to remain in business without eliminating some poor individual's job, I would! But you know how it is, jobs represent cost, and cost must be minimized." As he talked, the man pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his jacket pocket and pulled them over his hands. "In fact, I bet you didn't want to work in that stuffy building much longer anyway! I bet I did you a favor by absorbing your company, didn't I? All you need to follow your dreams is a firm push from behind, that's what I always say." The man carefully pulled the cactus from the ground and held it in one hand. "Oh, no need to thank me," the man said, waving the cactus in front of his face, "All I ask is an invitation to the grand opening of that art gallery you've been telling me so much about." And with that, the man took a large bite out of the plant, choking down the spines.
After finishing his meal, the man pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth. He removed his gloves and returned them to his jacket pocket, lifted his briefcase, spat blood into the sand, and once again continued his journey.

Part II: Read Part I First

Returning the utensils to his pocket, the man stood up and wiped the sand from his pants. He never bothered to wake his companion, who dozed off under the man's shadow, taking advantage of the rest. The gila monster quickly awoke however, no longer protected from the wicked rays of the sun. Looking around, the gila shook the sand off his back and caught up to the man who had only traveled a short distance further. He looked at the man with a look of betrayal but the man didn't notice. The two continued walking, silently. The man looked down at the gila, who was staring straight ahead, trying hard to keep up with the man who had a much wider pace. Noticing the awkward silence, the man looked into the horizon, inquiring "Where are you headed?"
The gila looked up at him briefly but returned his gaze ahead of him and continued walking.

"I'm sorry I left you back there," the man replied, "I didn't want to disrupt your sleep. You haven't gotten much since we started together. I can't imagine we're going to the same place anyway. You probably would have been better off. I have nothing to offer you."

With that, the man stopped dead in his tracks, hearing a steady rattling noise. Ahead and to the right, the snake coiled and raised its venomous head. The gila, who had been traveling on the man's left, scurried around the man's heels and in front of him to his right side, quickly taking a defensive stance against the deadly counterpart. Opening his mouth wide, the gila let out a deafening hiss and the snake glared back, uncoiling its body and slithering away into the dunes.
The man, embarrassed by his inability to defend himself, straightened his suit and continued walking. The gila once again joined him on his left. The man glanced back at the spot where the altercation took place and realized for the first time in days how this journey would end. His eyes moved up to the horizon and no sign of the man's vehicle was to be seen. In fact no sign of it was to be seen since the first day and now the man was beginning to doubt he ever even had one. He turned again, and with a shrug of his shoulders, took a few more steps before sitting once again. The gila sat with him. Opening the briefcase, the man pulled the lone, conspicuous key from the corner and buried it in the sand. Then he bent down low to the dune and sniffed the earth. Sticking out his tongue, the man dragged his face across the sand. He sat up, chewing. He locked the briefcase again, stood, and continued without pause.

Part I

A man walked through the desert. He was alone, accompanied only by a gila monster that seemed to be going the same place he was. He wore a suit. Armani. Black jacket and red tie. His daughter bought him this tie for fathers day. She was four. He carried his briefcase just below his $1200 gold watch. His right hand tucked firmly in his pocket (it was the only place to avoid the blistering sun). The same sun, which very audibly signaled that it was near high noon. The man past a small cactus. Funny, he didn't notice anything resembling life in the distance. But here was his own little ecosystem. The cactus, the gila, and himself. He looked behind him. His footprints told the story of his past. Thousands of steps. Thousands of lonely steps. Inevitably, they led back to his abandoned car. A car he wished not return to. The man reflected on his actions, then hanging his head, turned and continued his path. The gila monster scurried ahead a few steps and turned and sat directly in the man's path, looking up into the sun. The man stepped over the reptile, continuing his journey. The monster ran ahead again, stopping, sitting, and looking up. It wasn't the sun that caught the animal's eye, it was the man. He stopped.

"Why do you stare at me?" the man asked the simple creature.

The gila monster refused to speak, opting only to stare directly into the man's eyes. The man shook his head in frustration, stepping once again over the small gila, and continuing his path. The gila watched in silence as the man walked away, then, realizing the loneliness of being left behind, he quickly joined the man's side once again.
Soon, the man began to feel the effects of dehydration and decided to take a quick breather. He had, after all, been walking for days, without break. He stopped at the top of a dune and sat down. The gila covered himself with sand and sat with only his eyes protruding from the desert floor. The man set his briefcase on the dune and opened it. Inside was everything that was important to him. To the left, sat a stack of $100 bills, all together totaling $26,400. Next to that, an investment portfolio, indicating that not one of the man's stocks were on the decline. Underneath the portfolio sat a cash flow statement which outlined the incredible success the firm had had under the man's supervision. In the bottom corner lay a keychain with only three keys which were inscribed, respectively, with the brand names BMW, Hummer, and Mercedes-Benz. A fourth key, uninscribed, lay conspicuously apart from the keychain near the cash. Underneath it all lay a newspaper clipping proclaiming the takeover of the firm by the man and exclaiming that things were about to change. Things did change. Beneath the clipping was a letter. The letter was unopened and the man didn't intend to open it now.
The man carefully pulled two $100 bills from the stack. He closed the briefcase and set the two banknotes atop the case. He pulled from his pocket a fork and knife and cut the bills into pieces. One by one, he consumed the slices, leaving not a crumb on his makeshift dish.

what if i?

i'm at work.

i miss charlotte.

she's probably at home. in the living room. being abused by dan's wing-sauce smothered hands.

don't let her see these two posts below...i dont want her thinking im trying to replace her.




i still owe her that new paint job i promised.

Or possibly...

Schecter Damien 5?




please note...the BAT inlays

Christmas List

Schecter Omen-5.

Thought Map

i guess i've been working this thought map up for awhile but waking up this morning it all came together at once like an electric circuit linking together.

[why do i reference an electric circuit instead of a light bulb and switch like everyone else? whatev.]

so. my point.

many nonbelievers tend to hold the notion that God can not exist because nothing exists that are absolutely intangible to us. we could argue the wind, or atoms, but they say that you can feel the wind. and scientists have proven atoms. yeah, well scientists have "proven" the big bang theory but we still don't know where those molecules that caused it came from...
they also discredit the Bible based on its extensive use of miracles to prove God's existence. they say that if God existed...or if he still existed, there would be miracles today. its so easy to see miracles in today's world, we just call them coincidence or irony.

i guess it comes down to this.

C.D. Broad, a philosopher in the early part of the 20th century, wrote an essay in 1939 called "Arguments for the Existence of God." In his essay, Broad recognizes that the people we stand in awe of, arguing about the nonexistence of God, are the people who have never seen God's power. This is like listening to someone who grew up in the city, who has never seen a cow, say that cows do not exist. AND BELIEVING HIM. Broad relates it to music very well.

"If a man who had no ear for music were to give himself airs on that account, and were to talk de haut en bas about those who can appreciate music and think it highly important, we should regard him, not as an advanced thinker, but as a self-satisfied Philistine."

How can you immediately discredit someone who has countless religious experiences while citing someone who has never felt the presence of God in his life? He also tells us that just because someone has had many experiences with God does not mean that man isn't crazy. There are some cuckoos out there that claim God told them to do pretty rash things. Like blow up a building. But then again...we have the story of Abraham. Separating fact from fiction is NOT an easy task. But Broad argues that we can think of this information in one of three ways.

We can accept what we hear about God like we accept what trained biologists tell us. Sure, they can tell us about atoms and electrons and photons and dark matter. But we can't see that. We can't prove that with our own eyes. They can't even see it. They can "prove" it based on equations and experiments, but when it all boils down, it's still just a theory. Yet we still learn about it in school.

Or, we can think of the information about God the way we think about drug users' hallucinations. They all seem to have similar hallucinations so they may be real, just a perception of things we, as sober individuals, haven't the open mind to see, right? Well the difference is that there is no physical evidence to suggest that spiders and rats are crawling all over someone.

The third way, is an imaginary scenario. I related this to the story in "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, if you've ever read that. Great book. Anyway, imagine a race of sightless beings. Not one member of this race has the ability of sight. Now imagine that suddenly, select individuals gain the ability to see. Kinda like the new movie, Blindness, but backwards. These new superior beings can tell the average being about things they might feel. They can describe to them the shape and height, the location or direction, and the average being will be able to believe them. Eventually, they will run into the object the Sight-Being described and will be able to take his words for fact. How then, will the Sight-Being be able to describe COLOR to the Blind-Being? It is impossible. No matter what words they attempt to use, the Sight-Beings will never be able to describe color, an intangible property, to beings who have never experienced such a thing. Until the Blind-Beings also gain sight, they will have to take the Sight-Beings descriptions of hue and saturation and tone and darkness as opposed to lightness as fact based on FAITH.

I could continue into countless realizations that hold as much concrete evidence for the existence of God but I don't want to bore you. I'll save those for another discussion. Besides, I've already explained that this blog is mainly meant to get the things in my head out. This is just a thought map. Is that already a thing? I hope I made it up.

P.S. I guess there's this new movie coming out, "Religulous," that sounds like its going to anger me to no end. I'll still probably see it...probably not in theatres...I just don't like seeing things that think they are so quick-witted to easily discredit things like religion when I can't immediately point out to them the fallacies in their arguments that their interviewees so conveniently couldn't answer. Ugh.

ex

rays of sun on a golden hill

The Doors of Perception

im watching the doors. i dont know how i dont have this movie memorized yet.
i looked up some poetry of jim morrison. because quite frankly...i dont know much of it other than his lyrics and those he dubbed over for An American Prayer.

listen to this:

Now is blessed
The rest
Remembered.

i stumbled across this on accident, i was searching for another one in particular that i knew was short so i just looked for short ones. but i found that

live in the moment.
because this moment is the ONLY this moment there will ever be.
the rest of the moments passed are only in existence in memory. so make the most of them for the sake of their existence and make the most of them for the sake of your FUTURE memories of your PAST, or currently, your NOW.


at least thats what i got.

to end the current haiku binge

ill end on a happy note.



zombie zombie dead
zombie zombie zombies rock
zombie zombie no!

WHAT!!

i accidentally threw up the visualizer on itunes.
THEY. CHANGED IT.
its outta my mind.

its seriously ridiculous...


lemme show you a screenshot...



thats real

Circles

98% of the time, ive determined, i draw my circles clockwise.

i wonder why?
water spins clockwise...in our hemisphere.

you know what? dvds spin clockwise.
CLOCKS spin clockwise.

do you suppose in the southern hemisphere dvds spin counterclockwise?
and if they do...would the movies made down under play backwards in a northern made dvd player?

more importantly...

do people who live south of the equator draw their circles counterclockwise?

I can fix that

seems your stuffing's out
those cuts must be pretty deep
but I can fix them

anger

i wish you knew that
you cant convey your feelings
'til you stop screaming

icarus

the way out is up
the sea is unforgiving
please don't fly too high

life

death comes so quickly
summer breeze and dancing seeds
a breath of new life

open water

i swore i'd be home
but the storm caught us off guard
the sea is calm now...

loneliness

oh, you sit so high
away from all those you love
the vulture awaits...