Ok, there is actually some shame... in fact I am feeling a tremendous amount of shame right now. It is not my usual shame for the way I look, or the things I say or the incredibly small manhood that I possess. Today's shame is something a bit more fixable, which is totally not true about my other shames, despite what the emails I receive might lead me to believe.
Today is Friday, and on the blog that means stories from street level. The original idea behind the theme was to gather stories about what is really going on in the world from the perspective of the people living their lives in a more realistic way.
All too often I read books where characters are from the streets or have some sort of street cred, yet the writer only understands these people through the tint of their car window, or the fade of the yellowed pages of some socio-political handbook on how to be a better bleeding heart liberal. It irks me sometimes to think that this is how they see the lives of those who I know so well.
I also wanted to give a platform, not only for myself, but others who might have stories in their head from their past that they feel a need to share, sort of a therapy thing in a way.
This morning I sat down to begin writting a story. I wanted it to come from the heart and from the vantage point of a person dealing with issues that just aren't prevalent in the burbs...or at least from a different point of view.
I sort of grow tired of listening to angry white boys from the suburbs bitching about their lives in song. I think that might be one of the reasons I like Saliva, they can at least admit where their anger comes from and how they shouldn't pretend it is anything more than it is.
I wanted to write something touching and gritty and real. Then I wanted a donut.
Nothing came out of the whole thing because I decided to masturbate rather than go for a donut, but there was nothing good on the porn sites, and I accidentally clicked on a video about trannys which sort of ruined the whole experience for me. They sneak them in to the damn websites now like they did in the porno mags. You're cruising along enjoying a nice pictorial of a young lady with massive boobs in a corn field, or a young lady with massive boobs in a bar, or a young lady with massive boobs in a sports car and all of a sudden there's a picture of a nice young lady with massive boobs and a giant man handle. Seriously. It ruins the aesthetic. I never understood the idea. Are gay dudes so repressed they need to masturbate to straight porn with a hint of naughty, or is it more a straight thing where guys just don't want to admit they just want to take a shot in the mouth to see what it's like? I digress a little here, but it happens.
The point is, I was unable to write.
I have made great strides in my life, overcoming several obstacles and putting my behind in the past.... hey does making a Lion King reference balance out the detailed porno thing? Again, the point is that I have come so far that trying to think in terms of the street level character is difficult and causes me to desire donuts, which are completely unhealthy and not at all the direction in which I should travel given the fact that ugly people are turning me down for dates.
This is all just an incredibly long winded way of me saying I can't fulfill my obligation today. I have a strategy though. Tonight, at the crack of dusk I will venture forth from my comfortable location clad only in jeans and a hoody. I will seek out street life and street civilizations. I will boldly go where no classy man has gone before.
I need to commune with my nature because it has been far too long. I have spent far too much time locked in my attic writing space dreaming up new things to write about and it has left me a softened old husk of a man.
Tonight I shall brave the wilds of drunken teenagers, shambling bums, women in tight skirts, jackasses in I love Jersey shore muscle t's, and I will report my findings.
I shall brave the urban jungle as I once did. I will slip unnoticed through their ranks and really get back to where I should be. Though I have come a long way, and I would not willingly go backwards, I feel a kinship to this sort of thing, a legacy that bleeds through my impassioned writing should come out and play. This legacy should be the real heart and soul of all the things that make up me. I should stop pretending that my place is here, in the confines of my apartment, or in the inviting warmth of friend's insulated locales. My place is with my people.
Tonight I shall go walkabout.
P.S. Though this is sort of a lame post, I am somewhat proud of it because of all the references. I said somewhere in there some nonsense about being all the parts of me, and in this post I think I achieved it. Self deprecation, Kevin Smith, Star Wars, Star Trek (which sucks btw), music, dirty humour, clean humour, and self recrimination. Yay me!
Showing posts with label star wars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label star wars. Show all posts
Friday, April 15, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Yer Momma
I feel so guilty about not having a list yesterday I think I am going to over compensate, cause you know, I owe you or something.
The following is a list of things my mother never taught me that might have made life easier.
1. Internet rejection is as painful as real rejection. Seriously you felt the need to send me a note to tell me I am funny and charming and seem nice..... aaaaand I am not good looking enough? Jesus.
2. Short people are bad for you, sort of like the plague.
3. You shouldn't annoy Kevin Smith's publicist.... on multiple occassions.
4. Funny is over rated. If given the choice, most people, male or female will go for a 6 pack over a sense of humour. Nobody gets it on with a joke.
5. Same applies for kindness. You can't get an orgasm from caring.
6. Confidence is never showing the other person you care about their opinion.
7. Never write a blog post 5 minutes after a stupid person hurts your feelings. It belittles you and your work.
8. Having expectations of others is your fault not theirs. If they dissapoint you it is because you projected your own demands not theirs. A person will rarely step outside of their own character no matter how much it means to you.
9. This list is depressing.
10. I should bring the funny.
11. Here comes the funny.
12. It's ok to like fish, because they don't have any feelings.
13. When a bounty hunter corners you in a bar you MUST shoot first. The bounty hunter is at the disadvantage because the fat sluglike creature paying him wants you alive, whereas you want the bounty hunter dead. Waiting for him to make the first move is just silly.
14. Workahol > alcohol > drugs. At least in prestige. They all perform the same task, diverting one from acknowledging their life, but workahol only causes broken relationships, social dysfunction, heart disease and stroke... hey wait a second....
15. You don`t need to be good to be a success. You just have to exploit someone else's good. I am looking at you Dave Grohl.
16. You can also succeed by exploiting someone else's bad. I am looking at you Charlie Sheen's Posse.
17. Lists make you look cool and on top of things, even if they are full of self recrimination, doubt and angst.
18. Never give your love away for free cause then no one will appreciate it. Note: Love does not include compassion in the previous sentence.
19. When incarcerated, fear the cobra, otherwise it is just a horrible movie or a pet for someone who hates their parents.
20. I like you still. #NotIntendedAsAFactualStatement.
21. Always be trendy and # outside of twitter cause twitter peeps will think they are part of the in crowd when they read it and others will think you're cool because they don't get it and that must mean you know something they don't.
22. When a Chinese buffet is good you can solve all your problems, when it is bad you just spent 10 bucks on shit, and you have to eat a lot of it because you are at a buffet, and it would be wrong of you to waste the trust placed in someone when given unfettered access to food. It is your duty to eat all that you can not a suggestion.
23. Landlords are like women, you're not allowed to shoot em. Besides, you clearly lack property on which to hide the body.
24. Farting can improve a back ache but it also smells and so should be done in private.
25. Always let them see you sweat because it tells them that you are working, but seriously dude, never let them smell you sweat, that's just gross.
There are just some of the things my mom forget to mention while I was growing up. If you have any feel free to post them or email them to me.
The following is a list of things my mother never taught me that might have made life easier.
1. Internet rejection is as painful as real rejection. Seriously you felt the need to send me a note to tell me I am funny and charming and seem nice..... aaaaand I am not good looking enough? Jesus.
2. Short people are bad for you, sort of like the plague.
3. You shouldn't annoy Kevin Smith's publicist.... on multiple occassions.
4. Funny is over rated. If given the choice, most people, male or female will go for a 6 pack over a sense of humour. Nobody gets it on with a joke.
5. Same applies for kindness. You can't get an orgasm from caring.
6. Confidence is never showing the other person you care about their opinion.
7. Never write a blog post 5 minutes after a stupid person hurts your feelings. It belittles you and your work.
8. Having expectations of others is your fault not theirs. If they dissapoint you it is because you projected your own demands not theirs. A person will rarely step outside of their own character no matter how much it means to you.
9. This list is depressing.
10. I should bring the funny.
11. Here comes the funny.
12. It's ok to like fish, because they don't have any feelings.
13. When a bounty hunter corners you in a bar you MUST shoot first. The bounty hunter is at the disadvantage because the fat sluglike creature paying him wants you alive, whereas you want the bounty hunter dead. Waiting for him to make the first move is just silly.
14. Workahol > alcohol > drugs. At least in prestige. They all perform the same task, diverting one from acknowledging their life, but workahol only causes broken relationships, social dysfunction, heart disease and stroke... hey wait a second....
15. You don`t need to be good to be a success. You just have to exploit someone else's good. I am looking at you Dave Grohl.
16. You can also succeed by exploiting someone else's bad. I am looking at you Charlie Sheen's Posse.
17. Lists make you look cool and on top of things, even if they are full of self recrimination, doubt and angst.
18. Never give your love away for free cause then no one will appreciate it. Note: Love does not include compassion in the previous sentence.
19. When incarcerated, fear the cobra, otherwise it is just a horrible movie or a pet for someone who hates their parents.
20. I like you still. #NotIntendedAsAFactualStatement.
21. Always be trendy and # outside of twitter cause twitter peeps will think they are part of the in crowd when they read it and others will think you're cool because they don't get it and that must mean you know something they don't.
22. When a Chinese buffet is good you can solve all your problems, when it is bad you just spent 10 bucks on shit, and you have to eat a lot of it because you are at a buffet, and it would be wrong of you to waste the trust placed in someone when given unfettered access to food. It is your duty to eat all that you can not a suggestion.
23. Landlords are like women, you're not allowed to shoot em. Besides, you clearly lack property on which to hide the body.
24. Farting can improve a back ache but it also smells and so should be done in private.
25. Always let them see you sweat because it tells them that you are working, but seriously dude, never let them smell you sweat, that's just gross.
There are just some of the things my mom forget to mention while I was growing up. If you have any feel free to post them or email them to me.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
One Monkey Week April 4-10
One Week of Blogs in One Paragraph
The week started off well with a tremendously good podcast, our best so far, and not just because Alley is insane. I also posted about what to expect when you are expecting nothing from us here at monkey headquarters. I then wrote a love letter to the amazing Alison Rosen, but she didn't respond, so that made me sad, and a little tired so I took a nap and then wrote about it.... at length. This week also marked the deathday of Kurt Cobain, so I had to respond. I then got angry and swore a little bit about stuff that frustrates me. To wrap up the week, I went ahead and broke the rules and didn't post properly according to the new schedule, but sometimes life gets in the way and there are things you just have to do... with hookers.
Monkey Messages
Musical Interlude
Once again, these are posted daily on our facebook page and can be a helpful public service. Also, once again I slacked off as life got in the way. Send Alley an email and let her know she is slacking too.
Boyz II Men - It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday. I wish this "band" hadn't died. Accapella can be powerful, and this is a good example of it.
Nirvana - Aneurysm. This is one of my favourites. It has always been that way because it is classic grunge. This is the part we play soft, this is the part we play heavy. Third verse, same as the first. It also has a powerful hook, and easy to understand lyrics about a single emotion that drags you kicking and screaming in to the light of not feeling in control, and feeling like someone else has the upper hand over your emotions.
Hoobastank - Crawling In The Dark. Life can be a rough thing, and searching for reason, for a solution to the darkness can be all consuming. It is the basis for religion, and it pervades our souls. This is a pretty powerful tune about that state of being.
Weekly Nirvana
This is the best video of theirs by far. I think it captures the way Kurt felt about things. So awkward and out of place it makes you cringe. It fits the emotion of the song perfectly, even if the lyrics are a bit jumbled. If you want to understand how a person who just wanted to make art feels about the people who hated him growing up loving him now just listen to this.
Podcast Of The Week
This was a tough decision. Last week I discussed one of the giants in podcasting, the Adam Carolla show, and I wanted to resist the urge to follow up with the same sort of thing by jumping on the Kevin Smith bandwagon. It has long been true that I am Kevin Smith's Bath House Bitch. A title given to me by the man himself, which I wear proudly. This makes it hard for me to be even slightly objective about his work.
I compromised. This week I want to focus on one of the shows on his podcast network that does not in fact feature him. Tell 'Em Steve Dave.
At first glance, this is merely a few friends getting together and bitching at each other. In many cases, that is what the show is. What struck me as interesting about it however, is the fact that these guys are all self deprecating. Instead of slamming each other, the slam themselves, and Ming Chen.
It is easy in comedy to just make fun of the other guy and watch him twist in the breeze, and they do this with Ming. What is difficult is to manage to make yourself funny, while making fun of yourself, and they all manage to do this. I am drawn to the humanity of this show, as three friends go about their business while admitting their own shortcomings. They do it in a way that doesn't ask for forgiveness, or even excusing the way they are, but they still make you like them for all their faults.
As a podcast it does hit all of the high notes. quality conversation about popculture, quality references to shared experiences, and self deprecating stories. This is essential to the new podcast paradigm. Essentially podcasting is more about character than it is about content. These fellas seem to get that and are unafraid to be characters.
What is remarkable about this podcast is how much it feels like these guys are just hanging out with us. They do some great theme shows, where they go out in public and do crazy stuff, and they also just hang out. What really captures the feeling of friends though is how much they do for their listeners. They are constantly allowing listeners on the show, planning meet ups, talking about listeners, and even providing a platform for new artists to promote their work through the show.
Those are all elements that make this a great show for people who enjoy the humanity of podcasting more than the mechanical corporatization of other media. These guys do podcasting well.
The only drawbacks may be the dirty humour. I personally enjoy their brand of humour, but it may be lost on those who seek a more.... high brow jolly. If you find the fact that they faked a contest of listeners sending in pictures of nasty toilet surprises just so they could sicken a person by forcing them to look at the unending stream of rusty brown digital snapshots hilarious then you will fit in with the TESD family. If not, might I suggest something from NPR?
All in all this is a great example of podcasting done right. They have character, they have chemistry and they have content, even when they don't. Well worth the listen each week, and well worth supporting their endeavors.
YouTube Video Of The Week
This is really everything that made YouTube great, and dare I say the internet great. It is star wars. It is cats. It is Star Wars cats.
Is there anything better? Maybe some faked nude Amidala pics.
One Monkey Toy
This is sad, but I did not play with any toys this week. Maybe that is why I am in such a bad mood. I failed to take time out of my busy schedule to just play. This is the thing that really matters in life, letting go of the grind, letting go of expected behaviours and just being a big kid. This segment has been a part of my entertainment repertoire for years. It began on a morning show in Regina, where others got to play with my toys, and continued through my entire career. I have to say that I am somewhat depressed about the fact that I have no toy prepared for today.
I can say that I have been playing with twitter a lot this week, but it seems to be a bad toy. It confuses me and is full of weird cultures I do not understand.
I am sorry there is no toy. Please send your hatemail to youmeannothingtomeandyouropinionswillnotbeheard@gojumpinthelake.com I will be sure to read each one of them and take your messages to heart.
Friend Of The Week
This week I would like to mention my friend Becky. It is her birthday and I am too cheap to buy her a real gift, so instead I will use my blog to declare my love for her. She is awesome, even though she is a hippy. She is also kind, even though she is a chick. She is beautiful and smart and makes me happy cause she is crazy and fun.
Happy birthday Becky, and welcome to the blog.
Wrap Party
Well, there you have, the week that was in monkey land. It was a long rough week, but it is over now....it must have been love, but it's over now....goddamn you Pretty Woman soundtrack! Anyway, this week should be better, with some amusing musings. I am currently trying to blackmail funny people in to writing stuff for me so I can spend more time playing with toys. Alley is out of town on an adventure, we will try and catch up with her for the podcast, and I am going out on assignment to see what this whole talking to women thing is all about.
Have a great week, and as always, talk to us, we are lonely and need friends.
Emails are welcome, as are comments.
Leiderhosen
The week started off well with a tremendously good podcast, our best so far, and not just because Alley is insane. I also posted about what to expect when you are expecting nothing from us here at monkey headquarters. I then wrote a love letter to the amazing Alison Rosen, but she didn't respond, so that made me sad, and a little tired so I took a nap and then wrote about it.... at length. This week also marked the deathday of Kurt Cobain, so I had to respond. I then got angry and swore a little bit about stuff that frustrates me. To wrap up the week, I went ahead and broke the rules and didn't post properly according to the new schedule, but sometimes life gets in the way and there are things you just have to do... with hookers.
Monkey Messages
Musical Interlude
Once again, these are posted daily on our facebook page and can be a helpful public service. Also, once again I slacked off as life got in the way. Send Alley an email and let her know she is slacking too.
Boyz II Men - It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday. I wish this "band" hadn't died. Accapella can be powerful, and this is a good example of it.
Nirvana - Aneurysm. This is one of my favourites. It has always been that way because it is classic grunge. This is the part we play soft, this is the part we play heavy. Third verse, same as the first. It also has a powerful hook, and easy to understand lyrics about a single emotion that drags you kicking and screaming in to the light of not feeling in control, and feeling like someone else has the upper hand over your emotions.
Hoobastank - Crawling In The Dark. Life can be a rough thing, and searching for reason, for a solution to the darkness can be all consuming. It is the basis for religion, and it pervades our souls. This is a pretty powerful tune about that state of being.
Weekly Nirvana
This is the best video of theirs by far. I think it captures the way Kurt felt about things. So awkward and out of place it makes you cringe. It fits the emotion of the song perfectly, even if the lyrics are a bit jumbled. If you want to understand how a person who just wanted to make art feels about the people who hated him growing up loving him now just listen to this.
Podcast Of The Week
This was a tough decision. Last week I discussed one of the giants in podcasting, the Adam Carolla show, and I wanted to resist the urge to follow up with the same sort of thing by jumping on the Kevin Smith bandwagon. It has long been true that I am Kevin Smith's Bath House Bitch. A title given to me by the man himself, which I wear proudly. This makes it hard for me to be even slightly objective about his work.
I compromised. This week I want to focus on one of the shows on his podcast network that does not in fact feature him. Tell 'Em Steve Dave.
At first glance, this is merely a few friends getting together and bitching at each other. In many cases, that is what the show is. What struck me as interesting about it however, is the fact that these guys are all self deprecating. Instead of slamming each other, the slam themselves, and Ming Chen.
It is easy in comedy to just make fun of the other guy and watch him twist in the breeze, and they do this with Ming. What is difficult is to manage to make yourself funny, while making fun of yourself, and they all manage to do this. I am drawn to the humanity of this show, as three friends go about their business while admitting their own shortcomings. They do it in a way that doesn't ask for forgiveness, or even excusing the way they are, but they still make you like them for all their faults.
As a podcast it does hit all of the high notes. quality conversation about popculture, quality references to shared experiences, and self deprecating stories. This is essential to the new podcast paradigm. Essentially podcasting is more about character than it is about content. These fellas seem to get that and are unafraid to be characters.
What is remarkable about this podcast is how much it feels like these guys are just hanging out with us. They do some great theme shows, where they go out in public and do crazy stuff, and they also just hang out. What really captures the feeling of friends though is how much they do for their listeners. They are constantly allowing listeners on the show, planning meet ups, talking about listeners, and even providing a platform for new artists to promote their work through the show.
Those are all elements that make this a great show for people who enjoy the humanity of podcasting more than the mechanical corporatization of other media. These guys do podcasting well.
The only drawbacks may be the dirty humour. I personally enjoy their brand of humour, but it may be lost on those who seek a more.... high brow jolly. If you find the fact that they faked a contest of listeners sending in pictures of nasty toilet surprises just so they could sicken a person by forcing them to look at the unending stream of rusty brown digital snapshots hilarious then you will fit in with the TESD family. If not, might I suggest something from NPR?
All in all this is a great example of podcasting done right. They have character, they have chemistry and they have content, even when they don't. Well worth the listen each week, and well worth supporting their endeavors.
YouTube Video Of The Week
This is really everything that made YouTube great, and dare I say the internet great. It is star wars. It is cats. It is Star Wars cats.
Is there anything better? Maybe some faked nude Amidala pics.
One Monkey Toy
This is sad, but I did not play with any toys this week. Maybe that is why I am in such a bad mood. I failed to take time out of my busy schedule to just play. This is the thing that really matters in life, letting go of the grind, letting go of expected behaviours and just being a big kid. This segment has been a part of my entertainment repertoire for years. It began on a morning show in Regina, where others got to play with my toys, and continued through my entire career. I have to say that I am somewhat depressed about the fact that I have no toy prepared for today.
I can say that I have been playing with twitter a lot this week, but it seems to be a bad toy. It confuses me and is full of weird cultures I do not understand.
I am sorry there is no toy. Please send your hatemail to youmeannothingtomeandyouropinionswillnotbeheard@gojumpinthelake.com I will be sure to read each one of them and take your messages to heart.
Friend Of The Week
This week I would like to mention my friend Becky. It is her birthday and I am too cheap to buy her a real gift, so instead I will use my blog to declare my love for her. She is awesome, even though she is a hippy. She is also kind, even though she is a chick. She is beautiful and smart and makes me happy cause she is crazy and fun.
Happy birthday Becky, and welcome to the blog.
Wrap Party
Well, there you have, the week that was in monkey land. It was a long rough week, but it is over now....it must have been love, but it's over now....goddamn you Pretty Woman soundtrack! Anyway, this week should be better, with some amusing musings. I am currently trying to blackmail funny people in to writing stuff for me so I can spend more time playing with toys. Alley is out of town on an adventure, we will try and catch up with her for the podcast, and I am going out on assignment to see what this whole talking to women thing is all about.
Have a great week, and as always, talk to us, we are lonely and need friends.
Emails are welcome, as are comments.
Leiderhosen
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Political Indigestion
I need to warn you right out of the gate that this is going to be about politics.....get the hell back here and let me finish!
Though I am going to be discussing politics, I am going to be mostly making fun of people, lots of people, every kind of people, so it's ok.
Recently, due to the vagaries of a multi partied system that is not unlike a Thanksgiving feast at your in laws, loud, untamed and lacking any semblance of agreement on anything, our government has fallen.
This tends to happen when one party does not hold a majority of the seats. Simple math, imagine America where you have two parties, no one can govern without more seats than the other. Now add in a half dozen other parties taking seats away from both parties. It is possible to have more seats than everyone else, but still not have more seats than everyone else. In this scenario, you need to get one of your crazy drunk cousins to agree with you on something. If you can't then you have to go home, dust yourself off and get ready for Christmas, and do it all over again.
Since this is what happened here in my lovely country, we are going to be having an election. Unlike the American elections, which happen on a specific schedule, ours kind of just spring up out of nowhere. Less time to prepare, and certainly less time to hear about how the other team likes young boys and was born in Africa.
Having said all of that, I present to you the political parties of Canada in all of their unglory.
The Conservative Party.
These people make republicans look like right wing loonies....wait that doesn't make sense. Ok to be fair, our conservatives are a little more like American centrists. While they believe in smaller government and less corporate taxes, they also believe in health care and good government spending. They are the front runners right now but they are doing it much the same way Republicans do it, through fear.
Think of these people sort of like the Sith. They do everything from a place of emotion, but their emotional range is kind of restricted to fear, greed and lust for power. They want to build supermax prisons, charge 9 year olds with murder and buy some stealth fighters. WTF does Canada need with stealth fighters? No one appears to be attacking us, and our traditional role in the world is that of peace keeper. The last thing you want as a peacekeeper is to be unseen.
Peacekeepers need a giant frigging sign lit in neon saying hey look, we want you to knock it off and hug it out!
The major problem with this party is their refusal to see the future. As is the case with so many corporate entities, they are stuck on old models and outdated thinking to get a head. Nothing about their plan says future, just more of the same.
The Liberal Party.
I can sum this entire party up in one sentence. Here it comes.
This party's great idea of a policy meeting with the public is a wine tasting party.
What are you guys trying to look out of touch with 90% of the country? A wine and cheese mixer is not really the way to get people on board with your policies, it is just something faculty member do to feel classy and sophisticated, like European nobility.
his is Canada, try a beer bash where you watch the hockey game and then afterwards talk about policy crap.
These people are out of sync, and half their platform is the other guy is a jerk. Not helpful.
The Bloc Quebecois.
These people want to separate from Canada and form the new Country of Quebec. Or at least that's what they say they want. What they really want is to make Dad angry by disagreeing with whatever Dad likes. They are pissed off and want attention.
At a certain point we should probably stop giving it to them and make them go to rehab, where they can get the counselling they need.
The NDP
Look guys, socialists. These are the people that Bill O'Reilly is always bitching about. These people want free abortions for 12 year old Lolitas and free care for your rich grandmother.
They also want more union jobs, a whole whackload of government programs, and they want to raise taxes to get it.
They did finally wise up and say they just want to raise corporate taxes, not you know, the people's taxes, which is how they have gained some popularity.
Guess how many corporate donations they got last year? Yeah, pretty much the same as I got when I ran as the Jedi party.
They aren't bad people, but they seem to have reached the tipping point of support. Canada wants them around because they keep the other parties from gutting health care and erasing our pensions, but no one wants them to actually govern.
The Green Party.
Dirty hippies.
Seriously, damn dirty hippies.
I know what you're thinking, how can a single issue get you elected? It can't. Back in the day these people had no idea about anything that did not involve the environment or granola. It seems they have wizened up.
They have enough pull now to be considered a real political party, fielding candidates in every riding in the country. That sounds impressive, but my guess is some of the people running are actually liberals and socialists that didn't make the other parties cut. Nothing like playing for the B team.
I have to hand it to them though, they are the only party saying stuff about real innovation and future blah blah. They have their eye on the future, but they seem to think it involves sharing circles and community gardens.
They are actually right about this crap, but they are about ten years to early still to gain real traction.
It's hard to take someone in burlap seriously.
So these are the decisions we are faced with up here in the great white north.
The Sith, professors in sweater vests, union bosses, angry french people or hippies.
Not a lot of choice decisions there huh?
Ok maybe then you might want to vote on the leaders.
Stephen Harper - Conservative.
This fine gentleman wears a suit in the jacuzzi. He also has a fake smile that just screams trust me with your money, I dare you!
He reminds me of a televangelist in the sense that you don't understand what he is saying, but you believe he believes it, so you might as well give him your life's savings.
I don't suspect he is doing blow off of male hookers, but there is something he is doing that he is not telling us, perhaps it has something to do with the stealth fighters he wants to buy.
Michael Ignatief - Liberal.
He looks like your social studies teacher. The one tat wants you to call him Mike. Go ahead, you can trust him. He's not working for the man, he's trying to change the system.
The reality is, he is probably lying to you and just preforming a research project for his doctoral thesis, and non of this matters to him beyond what he gets out of it.
I suspect him of wanting to watch us like lab rats, and of using classical conditioning on us.
I think it has something to do with the fact he goes on television, and rather than saying what he stands for he just says what he doesn't like about the other guy.
Jack Layton - NDP
What is it with socialists and the mustache?
He looks a lot like Canada's version of a despot. Pasty white, bright blue eyes and a bushy stache that just screams I like to dance!
I am not sure why but I get that uncle who wants you to sit on his lap vibe off of him. I am sure he is a nice guy and all, but I am just not in to it.
Random Venom Spitting French Guy - Bloc.
I think it is still Gille Duceppe or whatever running that clown show, but I am afraid of being put on some watch list of anti government terrorists for going to their website.
I have no idea what he really stands for, but I think he is liberal. Oh and he wants to start a new country.
At a certain point I wanted to say to him, ok, here's some tough love. Go ahead. And then turn the lights out on him and walk away. Just cut his funding down to zero, cut off all aid and support and tell him to go out and find someone to help. Guess how far you are going to get?
The only issue I have with this is that America would own the new country inside of about 11 minutes. Them or China.
I mean really man, how far are you going to get without anything of value to trade? You have zero strategic importance, limited resources, and Canada own most of your electricity. You have no financial reserve of hard currency and limited relations with the rest of the world, cause no one will talk to you, because you are just a province.
I also look at this guy and get that tired old man who is smarter than everyone around him, but no one will listen because he has that one crazy thing he believes in.
Kind of like if you had an uncle who was in to Scientology, but also knew how to fix every problem you have, but you just can't listen to him because he believes Aliens have built everything and we are all controlled by little wizdings in our blood.
You can see him visibly slump and sigh whenever the other leaders are talking like he wants to say, you idiots, it's really simple we just have to, but he knows no one is going to listen, so he just sits there shaking his head waiting for his wife to tell him he can go home.
Elizabeth Moonbeam Lovechild Scooter McRosepetal Grey - Hippy
I would listen to her if she would stop dressing like a business woman and get down to the real thing. I want to see some burlap and hemp clothes, smell some pecculi, hear some bob marley and eat some granola.
You are trying to start a hippy revolution not convince the board to invest in windmills dammit.
There you have my thoughts on Canadian politics.
I promise something better tomorrow.
Though I am going to be discussing politics, I am going to be mostly making fun of people, lots of people, every kind of people, so it's ok.
Recently, due to the vagaries of a multi partied system that is not unlike a Thanksgiving feast at your in laws, loud, untamed and lacking any semblance of agreement on anything, our government has fallen.
This tends to happen when one party does not hold a majority of the seats. Simple math, imagine America where you have two parties, no one can govern without more seats than the other. Now add in a half dozen other parties taking seats away from both parties. It is possible to have more seats than everyone else, but still not have more seats than everyone else. In this scenario, you need to get one of your crazy drunk cousins to agree with you on something. If you can't then you have to go home, dust yourself off and get ready for Christmas, and do it all over again.
Since this is what happened here in my lovely country, we are going to be having an election. Unlike the American elections, which happen on a specific schedule, ours kind of just spring up out of nowhere. Less time to prepare, and certainly less time to hear about how the other team likes young boys and was born in Africa.
Having said all of that, I present to you the political parties of Canada in all of their unglory.
The Conservative Party.
These people make republicans look like right wing loonies....wait that doesn't make sense. Ok to be fair, our conservatives are a little more like American centrists. While they believe in smaller government and less corporate taxes, they also believe in health care and good government spending. They are the front runners right now but they are doing it much the same way Republicans do it, through fear.
Think of these people sort of like the Sith. They do everything from a place of emotion, but their emotional range is kind of restricted to fear, greed and lust for power. They want to build supermax prisons, charge 9 year olds with murder and buy some stealth fighters. WTF does Canada need with stealth fighters? No one appears to be attacking us, and our traditional role in the world is that of peace keeper. The last thing you want as a peacekeeper is to be unseen.
Peacekeepers need a giant frigging sign lit in neon saying hey look, we want you to knock it off and hug it out!
The major problem with this party is their refusal to see the future. As is the case with so many corporate entities, they are stuck on old models and outdated thinking to get a head. Nothing about their plan says future, just more of the same.
The Liberal Party.
I can sum this entire party up in one sentence. Here it comes.
This party's great idea of a policy meeting with the public is a wine tasting party.
What are you guys trying to look out of touch with 90% of the country? A wine and cheese mixer is not really the way to get people on board with your policies, it is just something faculty member do to feel classy and sophisticated, like European nobility.
his is Canada, try a beer bash where you watch the hockey game and then afterwards talk about policy crap.
These people are out of sync, and half their platform is the other guy is a jerk. Not helpful.
The Bloc Quebecois.
These people want to separate from Canada and form the new Country of Quebec. Or at least that's what they say they want. What they really want is to make Dad angry by disagreeing with whatever Dad likes. They are pissed off and want attention.
At a certain point we should probably stop giving it to them and make them go to rehab, where they can get the counselling they need.
The NDP
Look guys, socialists. These are the people that Bill O'Reilly is always bitching about. These people want free abortions for 12 year old Lolitas and free care for your rich grandmother.
They also want more union jobs, a whole whackload of government programs, and they want to raise taxes to get it.
They did finally wise up and say they just want to raise corporate taxes, not you know, the people's taxes, which is how they have gained some popularity.
Guess how many corporate donations they got last year? Yeah, pretty much the same as I got when I ran as the Jedi party.
They aren't bad people, but they seem to have reached the tipping point of support. Canada wants them around because they keep the other parties from gutting health care and erasing our pensions, but no one wants them to actually govern.
The Green Party.
Dirty hippies.
Seriously, damn dirty hippies.
I know what you're thinking, how can a single issue get you elected? It can't. Back in the day these people had no idea about anything that did not involve the environment or granola. It seems they have wizened up.
They have enough pull now to be considered a real political party, fielding candidates in every riding in the country. That sounds impressive, but my guess is some of the people running are actually liberals and socialists that didn't make the other parties cut. Nothing like playing for the B team.
I have to hand it to them though, they are the only party saying stuff about real innovation and future blah blah. They have their eye on the future, but they seem to think it involves sharing circles and community gardens.
They are actually right about this crap, but they are about ten years to early still to gain real traction.
It's hard to take someone in burlap seriously.
So these are the decisions we are faced with up here in the great white north.
The Sith, professors in sweater vests, union bosses, angry french people or hippies.
Not a lot of choice decisions there huh?
Ok maybe then you might want to vote on the leaders.
Stephen Harper - Conservative.
This fine gentleman wears a suit in the jacuzzi. He also has a fake smile that just screams trust me with your money, I dare you!
He reminds me of a televangelist in the sense that you don't understand what he is saying, but you believe he believes it, so you might as well give him your life's savings.
I don't suspect he is doing blow off of male hookers, but there is something he is doing that he is not telling us, perhaps it has something to do with the stealth fighters he wants to buy.
Michael Ignatief - Liberal.
He looks like your social studies teacher. The one tat wants you to call him Mike. Go ahead, you can trust him. He's not working for the man, he's trying to change the system.
The reality is, he is probably lying to you and just preforming a research project for his doctoral thesis, and non of this matters to him beyond what he gets out of it.
I suspect him of wanting to watch us like lab rats, and of using classical conditioning on us.
I think it has something to do with the fact he goes on television, and rather than saying what he stands for he just says what he doesn't like about the other guy.
Jack Layton - NDP
What is it with socialists and the mustache?
He looks a lot like Canada's version of a despot. Pasty white, bright blue eyes and a bushy stache that just screams I like to dance!
I am not sure why but I get that uncle who wants you to sit on his lap vibe off of him. I am sure he is a nice guy and all, but I am just not in to it.
Random Venom Spitting French Guy - Bloc.
I think it is still Gille Duceppe or whatever running that clown show, but I am afraid of being put on some watch list of anti government terrorists for going to their website.
I have no idea what he really stands for, but I think he is liberal. Oh and he wants to start a new country.
At a certain point I wanted to say to him, ok, here's some tough love. Go ahead. And then turn the lights out on him and walk away. Just cut his funding down to zero, cut off all aid and support and tell him to go out and find someone to help. Guess how far you are going to get?
The only issue I have with this is that America would own the new country inside of about 11 minutes. Them or China.
I mean really man, how far are you going to get without anything of value to trade? You have zero strategic importance, limited resources, and Canada own most of your electricity. You have no financial reserve of hard currency and limited relations with the rest of the world, cause no one will talk to you, because you are just a province.
I also look at this guy and get that tired old man who is smarter than everyone around him, but no one will listen because he has that one crazy thing he believes in.
Kind of like if you had an uncle who was in to Scientology, but also knew how to fix every problem you have, but you just can't listen to him because he believes Aliens have built everything and we are all controlled by little wizdings in our blood.
You can see him visibly slump and sigh whenever the other leaders are talking like he wants to say, you idiots, it's really simple we just have to, but he knows no one is going to listen, so he just sits there shaking his head waiting for his wife to tell him he can go home.
Elizabeth Moonbeam Lovechild Scooter McRosepetal Grey - Hippy
I would listen to her if she would stop dressing like a business woman and get down to the real thing. I want to see some burlap and hemp clothes, smell some pecculi, hear some bob marley and eat some granola.
You are trying to start a hippy revolution not convince the board to invest in windmills dammit.
There you have my thoughts on Canadian politics.
I promise something better tomorrow.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
One Monkey Week Mar 21-27
One week of blogs in one Paragraph
A light week this week in the world of monkeying around. This week was all about the begining of the podcast. The first podcast is a sort of getting to know you, getting to know all about you thing where Alley and I discuss sex ed, bad food, and other foolishly personal things. The Second podcast was an interruption to my day. Alley decided we needed to discuss Rebecca Black and the worst song ever! We decided to go back to the wold school writting thing and I, Monkey wrote about being unaware of who to be and the fact that I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that.
Monkey Messages
When you bite your nails out of nervousness, only the uick you will find, never the answer. - Me.
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.- Mark Twain
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. - Danny Kaye
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is one crushing defeat after another until you just wish Flanders was dead. - Homer Simpson
Death is not the end. There remains the litigation over the estate.- Ambrose Bierce
The Musical Interlude
Queen - I Want It All A real classic rocky thing. Reminds me of 80's rock, and prooves that it doesn't have to suck. There is always something melodic and classical about their work, and this is a great example. A song about rising above.
Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea A rare dose of Nirvana in the middle of the week, but I was so damn tired this was the only thing that was going to get me through the day. A haunting performance from one of their final live shows, this is a song about all the bad shit that plagues the tortured soul.
Dropkick Murphys - Shipping Up To Boston Sometimes I just want to go to Boston and blow things up. A little late for Patty's day, but some celtic pride anyway.
Rage Against The Machine - Know Your Enemy I had considerable rage that day and needed a bit of Rage to bleed it out. You can always count on Rage to help you through anger, rage, hate, jealousy. Sometimes perspective is everything.
Weekly Nirvana
A pleasant tune off of Incesticide. I do pitty the fool.
Podcast of the Week.
As if there was any doubt, this week's review is completely self serving, and presented without shame. I am reviewing our podcast! That's right, one monkey media decided to begin posting their very own weekly podcast. The stars of the show are Chris Parker and Alley, and their banter, while still a bit stilted is somewhat entertaining.
It's clear that these two know each other well and can push each other's buttons. This can make for some interesting banter, as well as good story telling.
In fairness, their ability to sound professional is still a bit suspect as they try and relate to each other and the audiance at the same time. This is something that may grow over time, but is essentially the one major drawback to the show. It is my opinion that you wouldn't want them to become too professional, as the sound of the show is that of a couple just sort of hanging out and discussing whatever comes up. It is somewhat voyeuristic in that sense, like we are peeping in the kitrchen or living room of two people sitting down, sipping drinks and shooting the monkey poop.
While there are hundreds of shows out there that are similar in style, and possibly even substance, this show is unique in the sense that both hosts are colourful characters. One is an ex street junky turned broadcaster turned social worker, and the other is a hot chick turned bitch on wheels.
Certainly there is room for improvement, but when you consider that they have only done two shows together at the writing of this review, I would say thye are on the right track and this is a show well worth the time. Think of it this way, getting in on the ground floor makes sense. If these two become gigantic stars and move to Florida as thye dream, we may never get the chance to hear the likes of them again any time soon.
One Monkey Toy.
This week it is all about the jedi baby. I have been immersed int the adventures of Starkiller and thus I cannot help but search for some star wars toys. The journey started off by me looking for a religion that would satisfy my spiritual needs. I tumbled accross the Jedi Chruch. A real religion based around the philosophy of the jedi. This path led me to this weeks toy.
If you are going to worship at the church of the jedi, then you are going to need to have the right outfit. That is where the toy comes in. This website is your one stop shop for everything jedi. You can get yourself some robes, the tunic, and the boots. One must not forget the wonderful boots. You can also pick up a cool lightsaber to complete the ensemble.
And hey, if being a jedi is not the way for you, no worries, they also have Han Solo, Jango/Bona Fett and even leia wigs. The only dissapointment is the lack of Leia bakini, but a fella can dream.
If you need to be a jedi, I mean really really need to be a jedi, then force jump over to jedi-robe.com. They have this weeks monkey toys!
You Tube Video of the Week.
The cool among you may recognize Jeff Lewis as the main character here. He is one of the stars of The Guild, a ground breaking internet series created by the most beautiful woman in the world. The real astute amongst you may even recognize Lois Griffin.
Jeff Lewis has a number of these videos, and the are all great.
Wrap Party
So that is the week that was in monkey land. Going to be recording the next pod tonight and looking forward to it. A lot of star wars this week, hopefully less next week, but you never know, I ma a geek.
As per usual, email us, comment, throw smelly stuff at us, whatever, just let us know your thoughts, and maybe we will even listen.
Ta Ta for now.....oh goddammit no wonder women think I am gay!
A light week this week in the world of monkeying around. This week was all about the begining of the podcast. The first podcast is a sort of getting to know you, getting to know all about you thing where Alley and I discuss sex ed, bad food, and other foolishly personal things. The Second podcast was an interruption to my day. Alley decided we needed to discuss Rebecca Black and the worst song ever! We decided to go back to the wold school writting thing and I, Monkey wrote about being unaware of who to be and the fact that I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that.
Monkey Messages
When you bite your nails out of nervousness, only the uick you will find, never the answer. - Me.
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.- Mark Twain
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. - Danny Kaye
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is one crushing defeat after another until you just wish Flanders was dead. - Homer Simpson
Death is not the end. There remains the litigation over the estate.- Ambrose Bierce
The Musical Interlude
Queen - I Want It All A real classic rocky thing. Reminds me of 80's rock, and prooves that it doesn't have to suck. There is always something melodic and classical about their work, and this is a great example. A song about rising above.
Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea A rare dose of Nirvana in the middle of the week, but I was so damn tired this was the only thing that was going to get me through the day. A haunting performance from one of their final live shows, this is a song about all the bad shit that plagues the tortured soul.
Dropkick Murphys - Shipping Up To Boston Sometimes I just want to go to Boston and blow things up. A little late for Patty's day, but some celtic pride anyway.
Rage Against The Machine - Know Your Enemy I had considerable rage that day and needed a bit of Rage to bleed it out. You can always count on Rage to help you through anger, rage, hate, jealousy. Sometimes perspective is everything.
Weekly Nirvana
A pleasant tune off of Incesticide. I do pitty the fool.
Podcast of the Week.
As if there was any doubt, this week's review is completely self serving, and presented without shame. I am reviewing our podcast! That's right, one monkey media decided to begin posting their very own weekly podcast. The stars of the show are Chris Parker and Alley, and their banter, while still a bit stilted is somewhat entertaining.
It's clear that these two know each other well and can push each other's buttons. This can make for some interesting banter, as well as good story telling.
In fairness, their ability to sound professional is still a bit suspect as they try and relate to each other and the audiance at the same time. This is something that may grow over time, but is essentially the one major drawback to the show. It is my opinion that you wouldn't want them to become too professional, as the sound of the show is that of a couple just sort of hanging out and discussing whatever comes up. It is somewhat voyeuristic in that sense, like we are peeping in the kitrchen or living room of two people sitting down, sipping drinks and shooting the monkey poop.
While there are hundreds of shows out there that are similar in style, and possibly even substance, this show is unique in the sense that both hosts are colourful characters. One is an ex street junky turned broadcaster turned social worker, and the other is a hot chick turned bitch on wheels.
Certainly there is room for improvement, but when you consider that they have only done two shows together at the writing of this review, I would say thye are on the right track and this is a show well worth the time. Think of it this way, getting in on the ground floor makes sense. If these two become gigantic stars and move to Florida as thye dream, we may never get the chance to hear the likes of them again any time soon.
One Monkey Toy.
This week it is all about the jedi baby. I have been immersed int the adventures of Starkiller and thus I cannot help but search for some star wars toys. The journey started off by me looking for a religion that would satisfy my spiritual needs. I tumbled accross the Jedi Chruch. A real religion based around the philosophy of the jedi. This path led me to this weeks toy.
If you are going to worship at the church of the jedi, then you are going to need to have the right outfit. That is where the toy comes in. This website is your one stop shop for everything jedi. You can get yourself some robes, the tunic, and the boots. One must not forget the wonderful boots. You can also pick up a cool lightsaber to complete the ensemble.
And hey, if being a jedi is not the way for you, no worries, they also have Han Solo, Jango/Bona Fett and even leia wigs. The only dissapointment is the lack of Leia bakini, but a fella can dream.
If you need to be a jedi, I mean really really need to be a jedi, then force jump over to jedi-robe.com. They have this weeks monkey toys!
You Tube Video of the Week.
The cool among you may recognize Jeff Lewis as the main character here. He is one of the stars of The Guild, a ground breaking internet series created by the most beautiful woman in the world. The real astute amongst you may even recognize Lois Griffin.
Jeff Lewis has a number of these videos, and the are all great.
Wrap Party
So that is the week that was in monkey land. Going to be recording the next pod tonight and looking forward to it. A lot of star wars this week, hopefully less next week, but you never know, I ma a geek.
As per usual, email us, comment, throw smelly stuff at us, whatever, just let us know your thoughts, and maybe we will even listen.
Ta Ta for now.....oh goddammit no wonder women think I am gay!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Straight Dope
Ojk loyal readers, I suddenly feel it necessary to point something out to you. I am not gay. Seriously, I am not.
Generally I have nothing against people who are gay, they are in fact just people, and it matters little to me who they are sleeping with. I judge people based on their behaviour towards me and the people I care about, and the way they treat others.
Frankly, it works in favour that a few dudes find themselves removed from the possible pool of competition for women. This is a good thing for me, and I wish there were more gay men in the world.
My problem with the situation is that people, mostly women, seem to come to the conclusion that I am gay. This is not working for me at all.
I am not sure the exact reason I come across as gay, but it needs to be ended. It isn't so much that I generally care one way or the other if a person thinks one thing or another about me, unless it is detrimental to my goals. That is when the misconception happens to bother the daylights out of me.
Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point.
First, there was a time when I found myself living in a beautiful, yet tiny town. There were 5 bars in this town. One was a dance club, another a country bar, another a nice little place right on the water, a strip club and then a pub.
One day, a roommate and I decided we needed a beer. Since we just wanted to grab a beer we decided that the strip club is out. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life when I liked going to strip clubs, when I had even frequented the strip club in this town, and was given the phone number of one of the girls. Seriously, I am pretty sure it was her actual number because it had her real name, and I hadn''t asked her for it. Anyway, the point is, going to a strip club is very expensive and usually involves some skank telling you how cute you are, how interesting you are, then grinding up against you for 20 bucks a song until you have to go home, two hundred bucks poorer, to jack off.
Neither of us can dance. Neither of us were interested in a romantic moonlit drink by the bay, and neither of us liked country music. Thus we ended up at the pub. Now, upstairs at this pub was a greta little lounge. They served high end scotch, Guinness and played alternative music. I do not mean Eddie Vedder, I mean that shit people play to seem sophisticated. Stuff with an acoustic guitar and a tortured poet singing that no one understands but everyone likes to think they are cool for listening to it. Hipster alternative. A great place for two classy gents out on the town to get themselves a quiet drink. One drink led to another, and before you knew it we were downstairs in the pub section cheering on Manchester United or something.
After the game was over I found myself at the bar, sans roommate who had met a lady. Unfortunately this lady didn't have an ugly friend for me to distract, so I was alone. I went and sat down. I started making conversation with the gentleman next to me out of boredom. A decision which, in hindsight, may not have been all that wise. Turns out the man was a 50 year old Russian man there with his 20 year old boyfriend, who was wearing the tightest, shiniest shirt I have ever seen.
Long story short, Russian started touching me, I started hitting on the waitress, she took pit on me and let me escape.
This situation, while uncomfortable was not that big of a deal. I just wish the guy would have gotten the message after I mentioned hgow nice the waitresses boobs were.
Nect example, half the women I know treat me like their gay friend. They take me shopping with them, dish on boys and ask for my opinion on their nails. I know this is my own fault, and I will get in to that later, but it is frustrating to me that they behave this way, mostly because I would like to have sex with some of them, but they think of me as their gay friend, and not so much as the raging testosterone factory of a love machine.
Next example, and last I promise, is that of a recent new arrival in my life. She is a cowworker of sorts and she invited me out to the movies last night. Now, I find her attractive, in a she's ridiculously hot and I am not sort of way. I have to try and respect her because she is my coworkerish. Thus I decided not to hit on her, cause when she turned me down it would be awkward. So we went to the movie, had some fun like time, despite the mediocrity of said flick.
Today she invited me over to her place for a few drinks and to meet some people.
Turns out some people actually meant her gay brother. It became painfully obvious to both her brother and I what was happening. It was essentially a double date. She had her boyfriend and her brother there. I had nothing but me.
It started off fine, until she began playing match maker. She was telling what a big shot her brother was down at the office, and started telling him how smart and sensitive I am.
I am pretty sure the brother figured out I was not gay because he gave me this weak apologetic smile.
I ran to the bathroom.
I then excused myself from the event and slowly made my way home. Of the course of this walk, as I was reflecting on my gayness, she began feverishly texting me. AT first she was mad that I was rude to her brother, and that if I didn't like him I should have been nicer. When I pointed out to her that he was not even close to my type she quickly became apologetic.
Apology not accepted Captain Neda.
Dammit I wish I could force choke!
Anyway, the point is, I was fine with the gay people in these scenarios. The drunk Russian was drunk and a little handsy, but he was just being a guy. The brother seemed sorry for the situation and didn't push it. I am also fine with people like my roommate who thought maybe I should have gotten the Russians number, or with one or two of the women who think I am gay. I am not fine with the women who I wish to wham bam thank you ma'am thinking I am gay.
I have been wondering exactly what it is about me that has them so confused.
I can assure you that prior to college, this was not a mistake made by anyone. Not a single person ever seemed to think the large angry man with the tattoos and military surplus clothing and flannel was gay. Not a single person confused my piercing stare o doom with the longing look of a would be lover.
No one ever misconstrued my talking to them at the bar with me wanting to take them home.
I lived with the same non related male for nearly 8 years and no one ever confused us for a couple. It might have had something to do with the fact that E might have shot them for saying so, or slept with their entire list of female relatives. I was mildly more sedate and would have just boned their mom while they watched.
Something happened to me on the journey of getting clean and finding purpose that leads people to believe I am gay.
I guess it is because my first move with women is to actually listen to them. I think this is a mistake on my part. I should start treating women like chattle, after all, isn't that what straight dudes do?
Ok, I admit I am a bit sensitive. I like to help people and I like to listen. I am good at these things. Somehow this makes me gay because the first move I make is not a cheesey come on.
I have become awkward with women, this is true. I think it is mostly because I actually don't know how to talk to women. I knew how to get girls, there is no doubt about that. I have no idea how to get women, so I just try the sensitive male thing. It works for me because it is not an act. The unfortunate part is that the rate of success is roughly similar to me walking up to women and saying I have a twelve inch tongue and can breathe out mmy ears. 19 out of twenty women will slap me. In my case, being friendly, sensitive to their needs and listening to them results in 19 out of twenty of them thinking I am gay.
Whether true or not, I am just not the crude line guy. I cannot be that guy no matter how hard I try. I am funny, sometimes, and I am smart, sometimes, and I am kind most of the time. It is who I am.
The problem is, women want to be swept off their feet, not treated like gold. When I find a woman I like, I want her to know it because I treat her like a diamond, precious and rare and worth every bit of my time and energy.
This is not a greta way to pick them up. Yes this is how they want to be treated long term, but on the first few dates, they want Mr. Toad's wild ride.
I cannot provide that without trust or comfort. This is why I am the gay friend. I am the gay friend because women want to be treated the way I treat them, just not in the bedroom.
What's that old line, a chef in the kitchen, a mother in the living room and a whore in the bedroom? Same is true of guys. Women seem to want us to club them over the head with our come ons, darg them back to our tents, ravish them, then in the morning we need to be sensitive to their needs and want.
Here's the thing, one person cannot be all of those things. I am not saying that good men, real men aren't good lovers, far from it. Don't believe me? Well then, believe the more famous fat man in an overcoat. He tells us that a sensitive man who cares about you and your needs will ensure your pleasure, cause well what the hell do you think he is about? If he cares about your needs in the living room, office, kitchen, guess what he is going to do in the bedroom?
Maybe the problem doesn't reside with me, but in a way it kind of does. In being the person I am, I can't shake the earth and move mountains until you let me. I can't take what is not mine, and I cannot force you in to the position I want you in. I used ot be able to do that with the girls. Oh it was so easy. They wanted it that way. Tey wanted me to be strong and powerful and callous. But I was taught that women didn't/
Maybe I am wrong, but I would so much rather be right. So, I guess I just have to wait for women to wake up to the possibilities and potential of a person who can please them everywhere. Until then, I guess I am gay.
Generally I have nothing against people who are gay, they are in fact just people, and it matters little to me who they are sleeping with. I judge people based on their behaviour towards me and the people I care about, and the way they treat others.
Frankly, it works in favour that a few dudes find themselves removed from the possible pool of competition for women. This is a good thing for me, and I wish there were more gay men in the world.
My problem with the situation is that people, mostly women, seem to come to the conclusion that I am gay. This is not working for me at all.
I am not sure the exact reason I come across as gay, but it needs to be ended. It isn't so much that I generally care one way or the other if a person thinks one thing or another about me, unless it is detrimental to my goals. That is when the misconception happens to bother the daylights out of me.
Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point.
First, there was a time when I found myself living in a beautiful, yet tiny town. There were 5 bars in this town. One was a dance club, another a country bar, another a nice little place right on the water, a strip club and then a pub.
One day, a roommate and I decided we needed a beer. Since we just wanted to grab a beer we decided that the strip club is out. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life when I liked going to strip clubs, when I had even frequented the strip club in this town, and was given the phone number of one of the girls. Seriously, I am pretty sure it was her actual number because it had her real name, and I hadn''t asked her for it. Anyway, the point is, going to a strip club is very expensive and usually involves some skank telling you how cute you are, how interesting you are, then grinding up against you for 20 bucks a song until you have to go home, two hundred bucks poorer, to jack off.
Neither of us can dance. Neither of us were interested in a romantic moonlit drink by the bay, and neither of us liked country music. Thus we ended up at the pub. Now, upstairs at this pub was a greta little lounge. They served high end scotch, Guinness and played alternative music. I do not mean Eddie Vedder, I mean that shit people play to seem sophisticated. Stuff with an acoustic guitar and a tortured poet singing that no one understands but everyone likes to think they are cool for listening to it. Hipster alternative. A great place for two classy gents out on the town to get themselves a quiet drink. One drink led to another, and before you knew it we were downstairs in the pub section cheering on Manchester United or something.
After the game was over I found myself at the bar, sans roommate who had met a lady. Unfortunately this lady didn't have an ugly friend for me to distract, so I was alone. I went and sat down. I started making conversation with the gentleman next to me out of boredom. A decision which, in hindsight, may not have been all that wise. Turns out the man was a 50 year old Russian man there with his 20 year old boyfriend, who was wearing the tightest, shiniest shirt I have ever seen.
Long story short, Russian started touching me, I started hitting on the waitress, she took pit on me and let me escape.
This situation, while uncomfortable was not that big of a deal. I just wish the guy would have gotten the message after I mentioned hgow nice the waitresses boobs were.
Nect example, half the women I know treat me like their gay friend. They take me shopping with them, dish on boys and ask for my opinion on their nails. I know this is my own fault, and I will get in to that later, but it is frustrating to me that they behave this way, mostly because I would like to have sex with some of them, but they think of me as their gay friend, and not so much as the raging testosterone factory of a love machine.
Next example, and last I promise, is that of a recent new arrival in my life. She is a cowworker of sorts and she invited me out to the movies last night. Now, I find her attractive, in a she's ridiculously hot and I am not sort of way. I have to try and respect her because she is my coworkerish. Thus I decided not to hit on her, cause when she turned me down it would be awkward. So we went to the movie, had some fun like time, despite the mediocrity of said flick.
Today she invited me over to her place for a few drinks and to meet some people.
Turns out some people actually meant her gay brother. It became painfully obvious to both her brother and I what was happening. It was essentially a double date. She had her boyfriend and her brother there. I had nothing but me.
It started off fine, until she began playing match maker. She was telling what a big shot her brother was down at the office, and started telling him how smart and sensitive I am.
I am pretty sure the brother figured out I was not gay because he gave me this weak apologetic smile.
I ran to the bathroom.
I then excused myself from the event and slowly made my way home. Of the course of this walk, as I was reflecting on my gayness, she began feverishly texting me. AT first she was mad that I was rude to her brother, and that if I didn't like him I should have been nicer. When I pointed out to her that he was not even close to my type she quickly became apologetic.
Apology not accepted Captain Neda.
Dammit I wish I could force choke!
Anyway, the point is, I was fine with the gay people in these scenarios. The drunk Russian was drunk and a little handsy, but he was just being a guy. The brother seemed sorry for the situation and didn't push it. I am also fine with people like my roommate who thought maybe I should have gotten the Russians number, or with one or two of the women who think I am gay. I am not fine with the women who I wish to wham bam thank you ma'am thinking I am gay.
I have been wondering exactly what it is about me that has them so confused.
I can assure you that prior to college, this was not a mistake made by anyone. Not a single person ever seemed to think the large angry man with the tattoos and military surplus clothing and flannel was gay. Not a single person confused my piercing stare o doom with the longing look of a would be lover.
No one ever misconstrued my talking to them at the bar with me wanting to take them home.
I lived with the same non related male for nearly 8 years and no one ever confused us for a couple. It might have had something to do with the fact that E might have shot them for saying so, or slept with their entire list of female relatives. I was mildly more sedate and would have just boned their mom while they watched.
Something happened to me on the journey of getting clean and finding purpose that leads people to believe I am gay.
I guess it is because my first move with women is to actually listen to them. I think this is a mistake on my part. I should start treating women like chattle, after all, isn't that what straight dudes do?
Ok, I admit I am a bit sensitive. I like to help people and I like to listen. I am good at these things. Somehow this makes me gay because the first move I make is not a cheesey come on.
I have become awkward with women, this is true. I think it is mostly because I actually don't know how to talk to women. I knew how to get girls, there is no doubt about that. I have no idea how to get women, so I just try the sensitive male thing. It works for me because it is not an act. The unfortunate part is that the rate of success is roughly similar to me walking up to women and saying I have a twelve inch tongue and can breathe out mmy ears. 19 out of twenty women will slap me. In my case, being friendly, sensitive to their needs and listening to them results in 19 out of twenty of them thinking I am gay.
Whether true or not, I am just not the crude line guy. I cannot be that guy no matter how hard I try. I am funny, sometimes, and I am smart, sometimes, and I am kind most of the time. It is who I am.
The problem is, women want to be swept off their feet, not treated like gold. When I find a woman I like, I want her to know it because I treat her like a diamond, precious and rare and worth every bit of my time and energy.
This is not a greta way to pick them up. Yes this is how they want to be treated long term, but on the first few dates, they want Mr. Toad's wild ride.
I cannot provide that without trust or comfort. This is why I am the gay friend. I am the gay friend because women want to be treated the way I treat them, just not in the bedroom.
What's that old line, a chef in the kitchen, a mother in the living room and a whore in the bedroom? Same is true of guys. Women seem to want us to club them over the head with our come ons, darg them back to our tents, ravish them, then in the morning we need to be sensitive to their needs and want.
Here's the thing, one person cannot be all of those things. I am not saying that good men, real men aren't good lovers, far from it. Don't believe me? Well then, believe the more famous fat man in an overcoat. He tells us that a sensitive man who cares about you and your needs will ensure your pleasure, cause well what the hell do you think he is about? If he cares about your needs in the living room, office, kitchen, guess what he is going to do in the bedroom?
Maybe the problem doesn't reside with me, but in a way it kind of does. In being the person I am, I can't shake the earth and move mountains until you let me. I can't take what is not mine, and I cannot force you in to the position I want you in. I used ot be able to do that with the girls. Oh it was so easy. They wanted it that way. Tey wanted me to be strong and powerful and callous. But I was taught that women didn't/
Maybe I am wrong, but I would so much rather be right. So, I guess I just have to wait for women to wake up to the possibilities and potential of a person who can please them everywhere. Until then, I guess I am gay.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Create New Smart Playlist
It occured to me that I am a music geek. I say this with all sincerity and esteem. I am proud of the fact that I am a music geek, and not a music nerd.
I bet you are wondering what the difference betweeen the two is. I will tell you since you asked so nicely. The difference is that a music nerd knows the most obscure bands and artists to ever play a wirly wizzit concert on the third Sunday of a Month where it didn't rain in London while three lions were killed in Africa by Poachers during the festival of Shimshammery in Vegas. The answer by the way, I had to look this up, is New Riders of the Purple Sage. (that is the only joke I have ever told that only my step dad would find funny).
A geek is just a guy who really likes music, uses it to alter moods, and takes pride in having an eclectic mix of music most people have heard of. Headstone notwithstanding.
I noticed today that I in fact have a playlist for just about every occasion. I have a playlist for when it is raining outside, for when I am cleaning, for when I am playing baseball on the ps3, for when I am killing people with lightsabers, for when I am writing, for when I am masturbating...er uhmmm did I typoe that last one out loud? Ok so not quite every occasion, but for most of them anyway.
I even have a playlist for when I am talking to certain people, Like Alley for instance. I have a number of songs which I play in order to remind myself that I am a tough no nonsense dude who cannot be pushed around. I generally need this music because she emasculates me on a regular basis. "I think you just suck at that game."
This I think is what can establish my bonefides as a music geek.
I am also one of those people that likes to think he is a smooth talker. Not in the way that allows a person to talk women out of their panties, or men out of their checkbooks, but in the way that I can control the flow of a conversation and generally the tone thereof and effect others emotional states.
I have this sort of set of mental iTunes playlists for when a certain line of discussion is needed. I have several of them and am able to scroll through them generally faster than my crappy laptop can scroll through my list of downloaded porn.
This is a handy thing to have in case you find yourself in a conversation about thermall nuclear war for example. You are able to scroll either to your playlist that is about Mathew Broderick movies or the one you reserve for talking to people who live in the 80's. There is some overlap of those two playlists.
Sometimes, but rarely, I am stuck without a playlist, either a musical one or a mental talk file one. Last night I found myself in this very situation. I could not access cheesy song lyrics or witty banter, and it frustrated the bedazzle out of me.
Have you ever been in as position where you are flipping through possible relevant lists but not finding the one you are looking for?
I was in that situation. Concerned friend didn't seem to fit. The rise and fall of the Byzintine Empire didn't seem to fit. Creepy sex guy didn't seem to fit. Desperate to please guy didn't seem to fit.
For the first time in a long time, my list of convo themes wass as useless to me as my music playlists at Marlee Matlin's birthday party. (OMG! He just made fun of that sexy deaf woman who plays every single sexy deaf woman role ever on television and in movies, can we laugh or should we boo? We should realise we are now stuck in a Wil Wheatonesque parenthetical which may never end, all because political correctness has led us astray, make it stop, for the love of all that is sacred in this world why won't it...). I wanted to be supportive friend, and I wanted to also be celebratory guy. It is rarely in my nature to celebrate the misfortune of others, unless someone is being hit in the groin by a baby, but sometimes their misfortune is my gain.
The situation can only lead to something good for me. Whether it is my Florida dream, more weird telephone calls, or less bitching about life, something good is going to come of this, and I feel guilty for being happy.
I know that I am sometimes the guy that is relied upon to make others feel good about their lot in life, be it by being the prime example of how not to life, or by smooth talking with the wisdom from my extensive playlist. I genuinely feel bad that all I could offer was an ear. I know sometimes that is good, but dammit, I am better than that.
I couldn't even find an appropriate song because there was none required for the emotional state of being. I was more useless than I have ever been.
In some ways, I think it was because I had no idea what was expected of me. I wasn't sure what my roll was, nor what to expect in return. It seems odd to say that, but it was one of those things where a nything could come out of my mouth, and some of it very ungood. My instincts were shot and I had no idea where I was. I was out and about without my gps.
In my younger days, when I was first doing the whole broadcasting thing, I used to carry around this cd case in my briefcase. The cd case had 100 cd's in it. I called it my bag of tricks because no matter what kind of producttion emergency I found myself in, I could find a solution inside that cd case. If one needed a rockin tune about boobs, I had acdc, if one needed frank Sinatra, for what I am not sure, I had that. There were wizzes and wooshies, dzzzts and zooms. Shabang and Classical guitar. It was legendary in some very very small circles.
In some equally small but slightly different circles, I am a go to guy for heads up conversation, but something has happened to me of late. I am all locked up and simply not functioning properly. I have tried banging on the overhead circuitry ala Han Solo in Empire but it hasn't had the desired effect.
I think I require something more drastic.
I think I require a hug and a henderson!
I bet you are wondering what the difference betweeen the two is. I will tell you since you asked so nicely. The difference is that a music nerd knows the most obscure bands and artists to ever play a wirly wizzit concert on the third Sunday of a Month where it didn't rain in London while three lions were killed in Africa by Poachers during the festival of Shimshammery in Vegas. The answer by the way, I had to look this up, is New Riders of the Purple Sage. (that is the only joke I have ever told that only my step dad would find funny).
A geek is just a guy who really likes music, uses it to alter moods, and takes pride in having an eclectic mix of music most people have heard of. Headstone notwithstanding.
I noticed today that I in fact have a playlist for just about every occasion. I have a playlist for when it is raining outside, for when I am cleaning, for when I am playing baseball on the ps3, for when I am killing people with lightsabers, for when I am writing, for when I am masturbating...er uhmmm did I typoe that last one out loud? Ok so not quite every occasion, but for most of them anyway.
I even have a playlist for when I am talking to certain people, Like Alley for instance. I have a number of songs which I play in order to remind myself that I am a tough no nonsense dude who cannot be pushed around. I generally need this music because she emasculates me on a regular basis. "I think you just suck at that game."
This I think is what can establish my bonefides as a music geek.
I am also one of those people that likes to think he is a smooth talker. Not in the way that allows a person to talk women out of their panties, or men out of their checkbooks, but in the way that I can control the flow of a conversation and generally the tone thereof and effect others emotional states.
I have this sort of set of mental iTunes playlists for when a certain line of discussion is needed. I have several of them and am able to scroll through them generally faster than my crappy laptop can scroll through my list of downloaded porn.
This is a handy thing to have in case you find yourself in a conversation about thermall nuclear war for example. You are able to scroll either to your playlist that is about Mathew Broderick movies or the one you reserve for talking to people who live in the 80's. There is some overlap of those two playlists.
Sometimes, but rarely, I am stuck without a playlist, either a musical one or a mental talk file one. Last night I found myself in this very situation. I could not access cheesy song lyrics or witty banter, and it frustrated the bedazzle out of me.
Have you ever been in as position where you are flipping through possible relevant lists but not finding the one you are looking for?
I was in that situation. Concerned friend didn't seem to fit. The rise and fall of the Byzintine Empire didn't seem to fit. Creepy sex guy didn't seem to fit. Desperate to please guy didn't seem to fit.
For the first time in a long time, my list of convo themes wass as useless to me as my music playlists at Marlee Matlin's birthday party. (OMG! He just made fun of that sexy deaf woman who plays every single sexy deaf woman role ever on television and in movies, can we laugh or should we boo? We should realise we are now stuck in a Wil Wheatonesque parenthetical which may never end, all because political correctness has led us astray, make it stop, for the love of all that is sacred in this world why won't it...). I wanted to be supportive friend, and I wanted to also be celebratory guy. It is rarely in my nature to celebrate the misfortune of others, unless someone is being hit in the groin by a baby, but sometimes their misfortune is my gain.
The situation can only lead to something good for me. Whether it is my Florida dream, more weird telephone calls, or less bitching about life, something good is going to come of this, and I feel guilty for being happy.
I know that I am sometimes the guy that is relied upon to make others feel good about their lot in life, be it by being the prime example of how not to life, or by smooth talking with the wisdom from my extensive playlist. I genuinely feel bad that all I could offer was an ear. I know sometimes that is good, but dammit, I am better than that.
I couldn't even find an appropriate song because there was none required for the emotional state of being. I was more useless than I have ever been.
In some ways, I think it was because I had no idea what was expected of me. I wasn't sure what my roll was, nor what to expect in return. It seems odd to say that, but it was one of those things where a nything could come out of my mouth, and some of it very ungood. My instincts were shot and I had no idea where I was. I was out and about without my gps.
In my younger days, when I was first doing the whole broadcasting thing, I used to carry around this cd case in my briefcase. The cd case had 100 cd's in it. I called it my bag of tricks because no matter what kind of producttion emergency I found myself in, I could find a solution inside that cd case. If one needed a rockin tune about boobs, I had acdc, if one needed frank Sinatra, for what I am not sure, I had that. There were wizzes and wooshies, dzzzts and zooms. Shabang and Classical guitar. It was legendary in some very very small circles.
In some equally small but slightly different circles, I am a go to guy for heads up conversation, but something has happened to me of late. I am all locked up and simply not functioning properly. I have tried banging on the overhead circuitry ala Han Solo in Empire but it hasn't had the desired effect.
I think I require something more drastic.
I think I require a hug and a henderson!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Big Time Hapy Fun Hour Jump Sing Watch
Anyone who has watched Japanese tv will get a kick out of that title.
Anyway, so someone suggested I should go ahead and discuss happy music.
It is clear from my extensive research, and according to something my music appreciation teacher (yes that is an actual college course people) said, that music is key to most people's lives. In many ways, we all live a life underscored by a soundtrack.
There is one thing George Lucas continues to get right and that is, music makes everything else better. It defines the emotion of a scene, and it certainly does the same for us in our lives.
I think there is a certain theory that states we react to music viscerally based on what we were doing when we first heard it. There are many songs in the world that remind me of many things, but here is a brief examination of some good thoughts and feelings.
Keep in mind, I just opened my itunes and went down the list of 5000 songs, so not only will it be alphabetical, it will also be somewhat longish. The links, if I do them right, should open a new tab or window and play the song while you read my blurb.
ACDC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap This song always reminds me of F Jay. He was a mentor of mine, and it really makes me laugh to think of him. He taught me how to drink Jack Daniels. He taught me about wrestling, getting knifed, and he gave me my first porno. He also had the coolest tattoo. It was Yosemite Sam with two guns firing and in his mouth a joint. Very cool. If you would like to see him you can, he was in several of the Police Academy movies. Believe me when I tell you, those are real bikers in that gay bar.
The Barenaked Ladies - If I had A Million Dollars This song is great for so many reasons. It makes me smile whenever I hear it because it is so much fine. You can white boy dance to it. It also reminds me of the time I went in to the planned parenthood place in Toronto and emptied their entire condom bin into a trash bag and asked them to refill it....then dumped the whole thing in to the bag again. Then me and this hot chick I was trying to bang walked out went to school and started throwing them at whores. It was awesome.
Beastie Boys = Rhmin and Stealin This song always reminds me of my best friend growing up, Chris Alison. Dude was a lot of fun and he was way in to the urban musics. He and I used to mess around with all his cool recording equipment. We even tried to make a movie that was star wars related on one of those camcorders that recorded on the audio cassettes, and then you played it back on the tiny 7 inch black and white tv. It never worked out, but damn did we have a great time. I had a casio, you know with the four little sound effect buttons; but, he had a CASIO! Thing had like 75 different fart noises. Chris was also my comedy partner. He and I explored the frantics and Monty Python together. We shared a love of the funny. Last heard he was a leading seaman in the US Navy.
Belinda Carlisle - Heaven is a Place on Earth Let me begin by stating, I can still kick your ass, so perhaps you might wanna not say anything about this song, k? I am sure I have told this story but, I ram reminded of collecting comics and hanging out with a cool nerd dude when I was around 10-11. It was pretty cool because up until that point I had never had real friends, they had always been older and picked on me, but now I had a real friend. Anyway, we used to collect comics together and stuff. He made fun of me for liking G.I.Joe, but I don't care. Snake Eyes is still one of the best comic book characters of all time, despite the shit Hollywood did to him.
Bowling For Soup - 1985 This song is just fun. I am not really nostalgic for the 80's, but it is kinda of fun to remember them from time to time, and realise it's all over.... and that is a good thing.
Cypress Hill - Insane in the Brain Really all of Cypress Hill reminds me of all the good things about my time on the streets. It reminds me of big bill trying to get laid. It reminds me of teaching Taxman to forge high school id's so we could crash dances. It reminds me of me and josh swaggering through the streets of toronto with our flannel shirts open and just daring people to take us on. It reminds me of summer days, sitting around the backyard sippin on gin and juice smokin a fatty and hitting on shorties. God I miss the Fishman.
Dierks Bentley - What was I Thinking This is a great fun song about young love, and the stupid things we do. It also has a great line about hood slidin like Bo Duke! I think I like it so much because I secertly wish I had had a teenage romance like this.
Fatboy Slim - Praise You This always reminds me of my favourite time in radio. I was working at a sports radio station. I had been doing colour commentary for sports, was producing Senators games and making all-stars cry. I used this song in the first ever piece I did that made it on commercial radio. It was awesome.
Incubus - Drive This song just always lifts my spirits when I hear it. It is very empowering.
Jonathan Coulton - Re: Your Brains The day I found out there was a dude making music for geeks was glorious Choosing just one of his songs was hard, they all make me gloriously happy.
Nirvana - Dumb Hey, he says happy in the chorus. Truth be told, Nirvana is just a happy maker for me. I like the music, and it reminds me of E. He and I had some great times listening to Nirvana.
Smashing Pumpkins - Bullett With Butterfly Wings This song always reminds me of Jay and Kim. It occurs to me that I never talk about them. These two people saved my life and nursed me back to health...and then tried to kill me, and yet I doubt anyone I know has any idea who they are. I lived with them on and off for two years, but it was in a time I never talk about. Interesting thought. I loved those two people with all my heart. This song reminds me of talking music all baked.
Anyway, there is a good cross section of some of the music and thoughts I have when I am happy and whatnot.
Music is really important in my life, and it serves as a touchstone, a series of memory triggers and emotional re animators.
Never let the tunes stop.
Anyway, so someone suggested I should go ahead and discuss happy music.
It is clear from my extensive research, and according to something my music appreciation teacher (yes that is an actual college course people) said, that music is key to most people's lives. In many ways, we all live a life underscored by a soundtrack.
There is one thing George Lucas continues to get right and that is, music makes everything else better. It defines the emotion of a scene, and it certainly does the same for us in our lives.
I think there is a certain theory that states we react to music viscerally based on what we were doing when we first heard it. There are many songs in the world that remind me of many things, but here is a brief examination of some good thoughts and feelings.
Keep in mind, I just opened my itunes and went down the list of 5000 songs, so not only will it be alphabetical, it will also be somewhat longish. The links, if I do them right, should open a new tab or window and play the song while you read my blurb.
ACDC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap This song always reminds me of F Jay. He was a mentor of mine, and it really makes me laugh to think of him. He taught me how to drink Jack Daniels. He taught me about wrestling, getting knifed, and he gave me my first porno. He also had the coolest tattoo. It was Yosemite Sam with two guns firing and in his mouth a joint. Very cool. If you would like to see him you can, he was in several of the Police Academy movies. Believe me when I tell you, those are real bikers in that gay bar.
The Barenaked Ladies - If I had A Million Dollars This song is great for so many reasons. It makes me smile whenever I hear it because it is so much fine. You can white boy dance to it. It also reminds me of the time I went in to the planned parenthood place in Toronto and emptied their entire condom bin into a trash bag and asked them to refill it....then dumped the whole thing in to the bag again. Then me and this hot chick I was trying to bang walked out went to school and started throwing them at whores. It was awesome.
Beastie Boys = Rhmin and Stealin This song always reminds me of my best friend growing up, Chris Alison. Dude was a lot of fun and he was way in to the urban musics. He and I used to mess around with all his cool recording equipment. We even tried to make a movie that was star wars related on one of those camcorders that recorded on the audio cassettes, and then you played it back on the tiny 7 inch black and white tv. It never worked out, but damn did we have a great time. I had a casio, you know with the four little sound effect buttons; but, he had a CASIO! Thing had like 75 different fart noises. Chris was also my comedy partner. He and I explored the frantics and Monty Python together. We shared a love of the funny. Last heard he was a leading seaman in the US Navy.
Belinda Carlisle - Heaven is a Place on Earth Let me begin by stating, I can still kick your ass, so perhaps you might wanna not say anything about this song, k? I am sure I have told this story but, I ram reminded of collecting comics and hanging out with a cool nerd dude when I was around 10-11. It was pretty cool because up until that point I had never had real friends, they had always been older and picked on me, but now I had a real friend. Anyway, we used to collect comics together and stuff. He made fun of me for liking G.I.Joe, but I don't care. Snake Eyes is still one of the best comic book characters of all time, despite the shit Hollywood did to him.
Bowling For Soup - 1985 This song is just fun. I am not really nostalgic for the 80's, but it is kinda of fun to remember them from time to time, and realise it's all over.... and that is a good thing.
Cypress Hill - Insane in the Brain Really all of Cypress Hill reminds me of all the good things about my time on the streets. It reminds me of big bill trying to get laid. It reminds me of teaching Taxman to forge high school id's so we could crash dances. It reminds me of me and josh swaggering through the streets of toronto with our flannel shirts open and just daring people to take us on. It reminds me of summer days, sitting around the backyard sippin on gin and juice smokin a fatty and hitting on shorties. God I miss the Fishman.
Dierks Bentley - What was I Thinking This is a great fun song about young love, and the stupid things we do. It also has a great line about hood slidin like Bo Duke! I think I like it so much because I secertly wish I had had a teenage romance like this.
Fatboy Slim - Praise You This always reminds me of my favourite time in radio. I was working at a sports radio station. I had been doing colour commentary for sports, was producing Senators games and making all-stars cry. I used this song in the first ever piece I did that made it on commercial radio. It was awesome.
Incubus - Drive This song just always lifts my spirits when I hear it. It is very empowering.
Jonathan Coulton - Re: Your Brains The day I found out there was a dude making music for geeks was glorious Choosing just one of his songs was hard, they all make me gloriously happy.
Nirvana - Dumb Hey, he says happy in the chorus. Truth be told, Nirvana is just a happy maker for me. I like the music, and it reminds me of E. He and I had some great times listening to Nirvana.
Smashing Pumpkins - Bullett With Butterfly Wings This song always reminds me of Jay and Kim. It occurs to me that I never talk about them. These two people saved my life and nursed me back to health...and then tried to kill me, and yet I doubt anyone I know has any idea who they are. I lived with them on and off for two years, but it was in a time I never talk about. Interesting thought. I loved those two people with all my heart. This song reminds me of talking music all baked.
Anyway, there is a good cross section of some of the music and thoughts I have when I am happy and whatnot.
Music is really important in my life, and it serves as a touchstone, a series of memory triggers and emotional re animators.
Never let the tunes stop.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Random is as Random does.
I was trying to decide between one blog entry and a few smaller ones. Since I am an attention whore I am going to just throw everything out there, so this is going to be very very random.
For starters, cooler heads only half prevailed yesterday. I am of course speaking about the US election. Now one might wonder why I am so interested in this. Two reasons really. The first being, my favourite person lives in the US. The second is that too many people here want to emulate the US in everything, including politics.
So, the big deal is, that none of the real crazies won, and that is good. Some of the minor crazies did. That is a shame. I was really buying in to the rall to restore sanity, and was hoping it might actually take hold some.
Anyway, my thoughts are that it would be a terrible thing for us to import the american way of doing such business, that's all.
So, yesterday I was writing about living each day as if it mattered. The thought occuredd to me that what s the definition of a good day. I immediately began to download the entire discography of Joe Satriani. Sometimes it's just the small things that matter, and the big things can just show when they show.
I was also thinking about being shot. Part of a live each day like it might be your last is thinking about some of those close calls. I almost never tell the story of what happened that day, and never what happened before and after. The reason I don't tell the story is that it always begs the questions of why we were there and what happened after. Also, I tend not to tell it because it makes me look good. The one thing you might notice from my stories of yesteryear is that I rarely tell any that make me look good or in which I am the sympathetic character. I prefer to tell stories about others in that way.
Anyway, for those who think I misspelled my fb entry yesterday, you may want to google sabe, and you will find that it is an incredibly poignant star wars referrence in relation to the story of how I took a bullet meant for someone else.
I have also been thinking about why I do this. I recently read through the entire archive on this site and found what I want to be dong with it.
Every writer wants to do two things. The first is to entertain. If you don't enjoy your time reading what I write, then I have failed. Writing is not a noble cause, or a divine calling. It is a form of entertainment, unless you are writing a technical manual, but that isn't really writing, that's more spewing forth useless information that works better than ambien. Writing is about understanding that we all lead incredibly busy, complicated lives, and that when we take the time to read something, we want to be entertained. We want a break from the workaday world. Even if that break is in the form of psuedo philisophical pretentious ramblngs from a crazy dude. There is nothing special about a writer, apart from the fact that they have a chance to help people relax and immerse themselves in to something, if even for just a little while.
The other reason is to make people think. I like having that effect on people. It doesn't particularily matter if they agree with me or not. I just like the discussion. I like to know they are paying attention and that we are progressing n the world, and not just stagmating and letting life walk past us while we are driving the kids to schooll or hussling to that meeting.
Again, some random stuff. I don't really have anything profound today, but I am working on it. By frday I will have part 3 of the story online. I am going to take some more time with it, because I rushed the last one out, and it felt weak to me.
I just wanted to share a few small things today and remind you of what to expect from me. A little less self discovery and a little more free for all fun.
For starters, cooler heads only half prevailed yesterday. I am of course speaking about the US election. Now one might wonder why I am so interested in this. Two reasons really. The first being, my favourite person lives in the US. The second is that too many people here want to emulate the US in everything, including politics.
So, the big deal is, that none of the real crazies won, and that is good. Some of the minor crazies did. That is a shame. I was really buying in to the rall to restore sanity, and was hoping it might actually take hold some.
Anyway, my thoughts are that it would be a terrible thing for us to import the american way of doing such business, that's all.
So, yesterday I was writing about living each day as if it mattered. The thought occuredd to me that what s the definition of a good day. I immediately began to download the entire discography of Joe Satriani. Sometimes it's just the small things that matter, and the big things can just show when they show.
I was also thinking about being shot. Part of a live each day like it might be your last is thinking about some of those close calls. I almost never tell the story of what happened that day, and never what happened before and after. The reason I don't tell the story is that it always begs the questions of why we were there and what happened after. Also, I tend not to tell it because it makes me look good. The one thing you might notice from my stories of yesteryear is that I rarely tell any that make me look good or in which I am the sympathetic character. I prefer to tell stories about others in that way.
Anyway, for those who think I misspelled my fb entry yesterday, you may want to google sabe, and you will find that it is an incredibly poignant star wars referrence in relation to the story of how I took a bullet meant for someone else.
I have also been thinking about why I do this. I recently read through the entire archive on this site and found what I want to be dong with it.
Every writer wants to do two things. The first is to entertain. If you don't enjoy your time reading what I write, then I have failed. Writing is not a noble cause, or a divine calling. It is a form of entertainment, unless you are writing a technical manual, but that isn't really writing, that's more spewing forth useless information that works better than ambien. Writing is about understanding that we all lead incredibly busy, complicated lives, and that when we take the time to read something, we want to be entertained. We want a break from the workaday world. Even if that break is in the form of psuedo philisophical pretentious ramblngs from a crazy dude. There is nothing special about a writer, apart from the fact that they have a chance to help people relax and immerse themselves in to something, if even for just a little while.
The other reason is to make people think. I like having that effect on people. It doesn't particularily matter if they agree with me or not. I just like the discussion. I like to know they are paying attention and that we are progressing n the world, and not just stagmating and letting life walk past us while we are driving the kids to schooll or hussling to that meeting.
Again, some random stuff. I don't really have anything profound today, but I am working on it. By frday I will have part 3 of the story online. I am going to take some more time with it, because I rushed the last one out, and it felt weak to me.
I just wanted to share a few small things today and remind you of what to expect from me. A little less self discovery and a little more free for all fun.
Monday, October 25, 2010
A Love Letter
This is a repost from last new years. In light of my new found glory of dreaming, and my special mini dragon friend, I thought it would be nice to post it again and share my idea of love.
A Line from a movie has been rattling around in my head lately, and as is so often the case, I need to spew it all over the internet. The line is “everybody has their death star.” As is so often the case, the lines that rattle around in my head are from b movies. And is so often the case, it comingled with another thought that was in my mind and created a life of its own.
It has recently come to my attention that not everybody worships at the altar of Lucas, and thus some explanation may be necessary. You see there was this poor country orphan named Luke. He was living in a remote area dreaming of the stars in the sky, and probably those angels from the fifth ,moon of Iego his father used to talk about....wow I am a geek...anyway, one day Luke got swept away on an adventure. Luke was forced to choose sides in a great struggle and he ended up being the deciding factor in what would be considered the first death blow to an evil regime. He blew up the death star. For the rest of his life he would never really do something that great again on a grand scale, though some might argue that what he did before the end was more monumental, but frankly I like to think that blowing up a giant sized death machine is much more grand than writhing on the floor pleading for his life...yep geek...so there you have what is meant by everyone has their death star, that one monumental moment in their life that defines them and forever changes their destiny and outlook on life.
I have had my death star. The sad reality is no one left alive knows it, but I did, and I regret none of it. It may not have had anything glorious, and in fact one might say it was inglorious, but nevertheless I can honestly say I have nothing to regret on the death star front, which is a blessing.
There is however something I do regret. I never owned a dragon. I mean owned and not slayed. Many people have ideas of what a dragon represents, one writer uses it as a metaphor for father, another for honour, another for salvation...the list is long. No matter what you think of when you hear or see the word dragon, majestic has to come to mind. While they may also be horrible killing machines in their own right, they are also beautiful and graceful. Malevolent and honourable, terrifying and unforgettable. These flying amalgams of all our hope dreams and fears are truly wonders, and I always wanted one.
I knew that a dragon would both breath life in to me and a take my life, but I wanted one anyway. To soar the heights of the sky and to plunge the depths of despairing dungeons would have been magnificent in a way. Too many people have felt that wondrous terrible feeling, and yet not me. I came close, possessing drakes and dragoons, even riding a dragon turtle, but never ever have owned a dragon, and so one might say for me the true death star never came. I writhed on the floor begging for mercy, and got it, but I never even bulls eyed a womprat, let alone nailed the shot heard round the galaxy
But this is not that kind of rambling, this is the kind of rambling on the night when all things are possible, I wish all of you your dragon and your death star. I want all of my friends to ride the dragon and in so doing find their death star and take their rightful place in the annals of time as the wondrous creatures you are.
Tomorrow begins a new year, and with it the hope of eternal springs and a life less ordinary. For me, I always dreamed not of the stars, but an ordinary life, riding a dragon.
Someday it will happen, because today I dare to dream.
A Line from a movie has been rattling around in my head lately, and as is so often the case, I need to spew it all over the internet. The line is “everybody has their death star.” As is so often the case, the lines that rattle around in my head are from b movies. And is so often the case, it comingled with another thought that was in my mind and created a life of its own.
It has recently come to my attention that not everybody worships at the altar of Lucas, and thus some explanation may be necessary. You see there was this poor country orphan named Luke. He was living in a remote area dreaming of the stars in the sky, and probably those angels from the fifth ,moon of Iego his father used to talk about....wow I am a geek...anyway, one day Luke got swept away on an adventure. Luke was forced to choose sides in a great struggle and he ended up being the deciding factor in what would be considered the first death blow to an evil regime. He blew up the death star. For the rest of his life he would never really do something that great again on a grand scale, though some might argue that what he did before the end was more monumental, but frankly I like to think that blowing up a giant sized death machine is much more grand than writhing on the floor pleading for his life...yep geek...so there you have what is meant by everyone has their death star, that one monumental moment in their life that defines them and forever changes their destiny and outlook on life.
I have had my death star. The sad reality is no one left alive knows it, but I did, and I regret none of it. It may not have had anything glorious, and in fact one might say it was inglorious, but nevertheless I can honestly say I have nothing to regret on the death star front, which is a blessing.
There is however something I do regret. I never owned a dragon. I mean owned and not slayed. Many people have ideas of what a dragon represents, one writer uses it as a metaphor for father, another for honour, another for salvation...the list is long. No matter what you think of when you hear or see the word dragon, majestic has to come to mind. While they may also be horrible killing machines in their own right, they are also beautiful and graceful. Malevolent and honourable, terrifying and unforgettable. These flying amalgams of all our hope dreams and fears are truly wonders, and I always wanted one.
I knew that a dragon would both breath life in to me and a take my life, but I wanted one anyway. To soar the heights of the sky and to plunge the depths of despairing dungeons would have been magnificent in a way. Too many people have felt that wondrous terrible feeling, and yet not me. I came close, possessing drakes and dragoons, even riding a dragon turtle, but never ever have owned a dragon, and so one might say for me the true death star never came. I writhed on the floor begging for mercy, and got it, but I never even bulls eyed a womprat, let alone nailed the shot heard round the galaxy
But this is not that kind of rambling, this is the kind of rambling on the night when all things are possible, I wish all of you your dragon and your death star. I want all of my friends to ride the dragon and in so doing find their death star and take their rightful place in the annals of time as the wondrous creatures you are.
Tomorrow begins a new year, and with it the hope of eternal springs and a life less ordinary. For me, I always dreamed not of the stars, but an ordinary life, riding a dragon.
Someday it will happen, because today I dare to dream.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Splinters
Some of us have the most outrageous defense mechanisms, and some the most classic. What we all have in common is that we all have deflector shields. Some are blanket shields like in star trek, where you just raise shields and no one can get past them, other than every single person known to the universe who can do simple frequency harmonics (which is exactly why star trek blows imho) and some are more directed, such as those in star wars, which simply absorb energy until depleted. The best part about star wars shields is that they are able to be angled towards incoming attacks.
Who wants a shield on their hind parts when the attack is coming from the front? Wasted energy I tells ya. What value are those forward facing shields when you are being pursued by a plethora of tie fighters on your tail? Simply foolish.
My defenses have been well documented, I am the little wooden boy. I own that, and I make it my own, and I make no excuses for it.
I bring this up because I have recently discovered how much I have in common with another little wooden boy. This one is a fictional character of ill repute....sort of.
I have come to identify with Dexter Morgan, vigilante serial killer and family man.
The thing about Dexter is, born of tragedy, he developed a defense against emotion. He completely shut down and caved in on himself. By allowing himself to feel nothing, he was able to cope with tragedy. The big problem came in his dissociative state. When you do not open yourself up to connection, you become incapable of it, and thus incapable of humanizing others, or normalizing events and feelings.
It is a wondrous trick to be sure.
It is a terrible thing to be sure.
Though this is startlingly familiar to my defense mechanism, the similarities do not end there.
In order to camouflage himself, Dexter takes on all the outside appearances of normalcy. A good job, a close relationship with his sister, a girlfriend, banal hobbies like bowling. These are all the masks he wears to appear normal, yet they are always at arm's length...or so he believes.
He eventually forms attachments to these things and these people. He begins to care about them.
The trouble is, he is not destined to have these things, and one by one they are stripped from him, save the bowling team. This is how I generally feel.
This is where trouble begins.
As the little wooden boy, I pretend nothing phases me, and I don't give a shit about anything. I play with things just to experience them. I search, like Dexter, for a way to feel alive.
Our defense mechanism precludes the highs and lows of life, until things are at their most drastic, in either direction. In order to feel alive, we must be near death or on top of the world. The middle ground is never enough.
It is never satisfactory to be normal everyday and average. We simply don't feel it.
Our defenses, our shields block those incoming emotions. We cannot feel the value of a summer day, and many simple pleasures are lost on us; you know, until we ritualize them.
Now what is the point to this ramble? No it is not to confess to being a serial killer, though some days, some people annoy me to the point of wondering if it would not be easier to simply fillet them. The point is to gain clarity of focus.
Critical thought is never so powerful and destructive as when we turn it on ourselves.
I say this in hopes you will turn a critical eye towards yourself.
My defense mechanism is star wars style deflector shields, which I angle towards whatever point of attack I perceive as most critical at any given time. Sometimes things creep in around the sides, but for the most part it works, until it is too late and I find myself lost and frightened, like a little boy without his mommy or blanket.
What do you do?
What are you protecting yourself from?
What are you afraid to risk?
I am afraid to risk rejection and hurt. I am afraid to be told I am not good enough.
What is it that you fear so much that you need to shield yourself from it by lying to yourself, or worse, lying to others?
What can't you admit because admitting it would mean exposing yourself?
If you cannot admit what it is, can you admit what you fear?
I am not a particularly brave man, but I did it. I have done it all along, despite what I keep telling myself is the right thing to do.
So now can you be brave enough to admit any of these things?
Can you step outside yourself, risk the status quo, risk what feels safe, and yet unnatural to find out what life feels like? Can you feel alive?
Who wants a shield on their hind parts when the attack is coming from the front? Wasted energy I tells ya. What value are those forward facing shields when you are being pursued by a plethora of tie fighters on your tail? Simply foolish.
My defenses have been well documented, I am the little wooden boy. I own that, and I make it my own, and I make no excuses for it.
I bring this up because I have recently discovered how much I have in common with another little wooden boy. This one is a fictional character of ill repute....sort of.
I have come to identify with Dexter Morgan, vigilante serial killer and family man.
The thing about Dexter is, born of tragedy, he developed a defense against emotion. He completely shut down and caved in on himself. By allowing himself to feel nothing, he was able to cope with tragedy. The big problem came in his dissociative state. When you do not open yourself up to connection, you become incapable of it, and thus incapable of humanizing others, or normalizing events and feelings.
It is a wondrous trick to be sure.
It is a terrible thing to be sure.
Though this is startlingly familiar to my defense mechanism, the similarities do not end there.
In order to camouflage himself, Dexter takes on all the outside appearances of normalcy. A good job, a close relationship with his sister, a girlfriend, banal hobbies like bowling. These are all the masks he wears to appear normal, yet they are always at arm's length...or so he believes.
He eventually forms attachments to these things and these people. He begins to care about them.
The trouble is, he is not destined to have these things, and one by one they are stripped from him, save the bowling team. This is how I generally feel.
This is where trouble begins.
As the little wooden boy, I pretend nothing phases me, and I don't give a shit about anything. I play with things just to experience them. I search, like Dexter, for a way to feel alive.
Our defense mechanism precludes the highs and lows of life, until things are at their most drastic, in either direction. In order to feel alive, we must be near death or on top of the world. The middle ground is never enough.
It is never satisfactory to be normal everyday and average. We simply don't feel it.
Our defenses, our shields block those incoming emotions. We cannot feel the value of a summer day, and many simple pleasures are lost on us; you know, until we ritualize them.
Now what is the point to this ramble? No it is not to confess to being a serial killer, though some days, some people annoy me to the point of wondering if it would not be easier to simply fillet them. The point is to gain clarity of focus.
Critical thought is never so powerful and destructive as when we turn it on ourselves.
I say this in hopes you will turn a critical eye towards yourself.
My defense mechanism is star wars style deflector shields, which I angle towards whatever point of attack I perceive as most critical at any given time. Sometimes things creep in around the sides, but for the most part it works, until it is too late and I find myself lost and frightened, like a little boy without his mommy or blanket.
What do you do?
What are you protecting yourself from?
What are you afraid to risk?
I am afraid to risk rejection and hurt. I am afraid to be told I am not good enough.
What is it that you fear so much that you need to shield yourself from it by lying to yourself, or worse, lying to others?
What can't you admit because admitting it would mean exposing yourself?
If you cannot admit what it is, can you admit what you fear?
I am not a particularly brave man, but I did it. I have done it all along, despite what I keep telling myself is the right thing to do.
So now can you be brave enough to admit any of these things?
Can you step outside yourself, risk the status quo, risk what feels safe, and yet unnatural to find out what life feels like? Can you feel alive?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
casey jones- The Ungrateful Dead
So this weekend is thanksgiving, at least it is here in the Frozen North. That usually means people are scrambling to find family to torture or pathetic friends to save. It also usually means people will comb the surface of their brain like an over zealous stormtrooper on the sands of tatooine looking for droids.
If you expect me to do either of those things, this is not the blog you are looking for.
So many people are so thankful for all their gifts in this life, and try as I might, I am not one of them. I rarely if ever consider anything in my life a gift. This is almost exclusively to do with the yin yang of everything in my life.
Many people are thankful for their parents. I could try and be, but when your parents both love and hate you at the same time it isn't easy to be thankful.
Many people are thankful for love. I simply am not one of those. My love for others has always been misplaced or blown up real fast. Those who have professed to love me have simply dissipated. Ok not so simply in some cases but frig that, invisibility is invisibility.
It is at this point a normal person would scream out I am unlovable. I ain't gonna do that. First of all, I am not normal, and second of all, I am lovable in my own way.
Sure I am fucked up, but at least I have the balls to admit it, and the ridiculous lack of shame to blog about it on the internet.
Many people are thankful for their job. HAHAHA!
Moving on.
Many people are thankful for their friends. In a way I should be, but I am not. I am no longer comfortable with any of them. I may never have been simply because I am never able to be fully and truly me with any of them save 3. One dissapeared, one lives in another country and one expects more from me than I can deliver.
The vast majority of people are thankful for life. I am not. Like all yin tang situations, my life has been extraordinarily blessed and cursed. Yet those great joys seem hollow and empty now as I look back on them because they were never what I wanted. All those little victories were tainted by the fact that they could have been much more.
The pain. The pain was real.
Someone foolishly said to me today I should not rest on my laurels. I would like to gut him like a fish right now, and I hate fish.
No quarter given, no respect for the distance traveled so far, merely penalizing me for not having reached the finish line as posted by him.
Few know enough about me to actually say to me, I know you well enough by now.... in fact I think only two living souls have a right to say that...maybe three. That third is most likely not smart enough to actually know me.
At some point pride is valuable. Self esteem is valuable. Self worth is valuable.
To all those who climbed out of the gutter to stand on the side of the road I salute you, and welcome to the club.
There are gutters in life, and not those shiny ones in your bowling alleys that simply spit your ball back out when you slide it in there by accident. There are gutters that consume. Gutters that are full of quicksand and tar, with dirty needles for rocks and dead bodies for bumpers.
There are gutters full of the diseased, the sick the abandoned, the lonely.
This is the gutter of the abused. This is the gutter of the guilty. This is the gutter of the forgotten and the downtrodden. The gutter of the traumatized. The gutter of the addict. The gutter of the poor. The gutter of the misbegotten.
When someone crawls out of that gutter, stands up, looks around and says, can anyone help me find the way back home, you don't tell them find it yourself. You do not tell them hey I see you got yourself out of the gutter, why can't you find your way home?
My story is not that different from others.
Abused by 3.
Broken so badly that the vast majority of people with my injury can't feed themselves let alone think for themselves.
Scared, stalked and alone.
Abandoned and mistreated.
Lost and found in a place not for the weak of heart.
Abandoned again.
Guilty of so much hate and hurt.
Abandoned again.
Left to addiction, and almost lost.
Freed through willpower and inner strength, only to make the same mistakes again because my roadmap is shit.
Broken down and misguided.
Foolish in love to the point it breaks him again.
Lost and alone.
Reinvents himself and begins a wicked journey of self discovery that he hopes will lead him home.
Lost a drift. Begging for a light and help with the map.
Fuck you if you think I haven't done enough. Fuck you if you think it is so easy to get this far.
Ahh what have I done? Laid bare my angst and anger over everything. So be it. Feel free to judge me all you want. I am strong enough to withstand your opinions, it is myself that is the true harsh critic.
Personal savior indeed. Look for your strength in others if that warms you at night. I like the cold.
Go ahead and tell me again how I like the inner strength to make change. Go ahead.
Yay me for being stupid enough to share this with you all. The fact is, maybe you can learn from my mistakes, and even if you don't, I can still be a cautionary tale.
What I will not do is be thankful for all this shit.
It never really amounted to much, after all, I haven't amounted to jackshit. But, I have managed to accomplish something few do, I got out, and I breathed clean air for a bit. It was kinda fun, in a messed up sort of way.
Now, go forth children and be thankful. Be thankful you are not me, since I am weak and pathetic and not worth anyone's kudos.
If you expect me to do either of those things, this is not the blog you are looking for.
So many people are so thankful for all their gifts in this life, and try as I might, I am not one of them. I rarely if ever consider anything in my life a gift. This is almost exclusively to do with the yin yang of everything in my life.
Many people are thankful for their parents. I could try and be, but when your parents both love and hate you at the same time it isn't easy to be thankful.
Many people are thankful for love. I simply am not one of those. My love for others has always been misplaced or blown up real fast. Those who have professed to love me have simply dissipated. Ok not so simply in some cases but frig that, invisibility is invisibility.
It is at this point a normal person would scream out I am unlovable. I ain't gonna do that. First of all, I am not normal, and second of all, I am lovable in my own way.
Sure I am fucked up, but at least I have the balls to admit it, and the ridiculous lack of shame to blog about it on the internet.
Many people are thankful for their job. HAHAHA!
Moving on.
Many people are thankful for their friends. In a way I should be, but I am not. I am no longer comfortable with any of them. I may never have been simply because I am never able to be fully and truly me with any of them save 3. One dissapeared, one lives in another country and one expects more from me than I can deliver.
The vast majority of people are thankful for life. I am not. Like all yin tang situations, my life has been extraordinarily blessed and cursed. Yet those great joys seem hollow and empty now as I look back on them because they were never what I wanted. All those little victories were tainted by the fact that they could have been much more.
The pain. The pain was real.
Someone foolishly said to me today I should not rest on my laurels. I would like to gut him like a fish right now, and I hate fish.
No quarter given, no respect for the distance traveled so far, merely penalizing me for not having reached the finish line as posted by him.
Few know enough about me to actually say to me, I know you well enough by now.... in fact I think only two living souls have a right to say that...maybe three. That third is most likely not smart enough to actually know me.
At some point pride is valuable. Self esteem is valuable. Self worth is valuable.
To all those who climbed out of the gutter to stand on the side of the road I salute you, and welcome to the club.
There are gutters in life, and not those shiny ones in your bowling alleys that simply spit your ball back out when you slide it in there by accident. There are gutters that consume. Gutters that are full of quicksand and tar, with dirty needles for rocks and dead bodies for bumpers.
There are gutters full of the diseased, the sick the abandoned, the lonely.
This is the gutter of the abused. This is the gutter of the guilty. This is the gutter of the forgotten and the downtrodden. The gutter of the traumatized. The gutter of the addict. The gutter of the poor. The gutter of the misbegotten.
When someone crawls out of that gutter, stands up, looks around and says, can anyone help me find the way back home, you don't tell them find it yourself. You do not tell them hey I see you got yourself out of the gutter, why can't you find your way home?
My story is not that different from others.
Abused by 3.
Broken so badly that the vast majority of people with my injury can't feed themselves let alone think for themselves.
Scared, stalked and alone.
Abandoned and mistreated.
Lost and found in a place not for the weak of heart.
Abandoned again.
Guilty of so much hate and hurt.
Abandoned again.
Left to addiction, and almost lost.
Freed through willpower and inner strength, only to make the same mistakes again because my roadmap is shit.
Broken down and misguided.
Foolish in love to the point it breaks him again.
Lost and alone.
Reinvents himself and begins a wicked journey of self discovery that he hopes will lead him home.
Lost a drift. Begging for a light and help with the map.
Fuck you if you think I haven't done enough. Fuck you if you think it is so easy to get this far.
Ahh what have I done? Laid bare my angst and anger over everything. So be it. Feel free to judge me all you want. I am strong enough to withstand your opinions, it is myself that is the true harsh critic.
Personal savior indeed. Look for your strength in others if that warms you at night. I like the cold.
Go ahead and tell me again how I like the inner strength to make change. Go ahead.
Yay me for being stupid enough to share this with you all. The fact is, maybe you can learn from my mistakes, and even if you don't, I can still be a cautionary tale.
What I will not do is be thankful for all this shit.
It never really amounted to much, after all, I haven't amounted to jackshit. But, I have managed to accomplish something few do, I got out, and I breathed clean air for a bit. It was kinda fun, in a messed up sort of way.
Now, go forth children and be thankful. Be thankful you are not me, since I am weak and pathetic and not worth anyone's kudos.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Alt.ambition.die.die.die
Olde Skool title reference today.
I wrote this big long post that was full of funny and wisdom, then erased it, 'cause it sucked, and that is pretty much what this is about.
I could go on a big long journey of self exploration where I bare my soul to the internet in a totally heretofore unheard of display of perfect honesty and forthrightness the likes of which have may never be seen again.Or, I can just say I am feeling like Anakin Skywalker. No not Cool sexy Anakin from episode three. Not even whiny petulant Anakin from episode two. I feel like pathetic life form Anakin from episode one. "I can't do it mom, I just can't do it."
I suppose if I spent more time listening to my L7 (NSFW) I would know what to do with all of those people who fill my head with doubt. I wonder what you do when it is you? Can you put yourself on your own shitlist?
As the target date approaches for my submission of craptacular verbiage to old white money guy, I am more and more convinced it can't be done. I think it was unrealistic to have had the expectations he had in the first place, but I also think this is a cromulant waste of time. (Sorry had a bet that I could fit both craptacular and a simpson's reference into the same thought...yay me)
When I read what I had written it just didn't seem like it was anything of value. Maybe I have unrealistic expectatrions of myself but the fact is, if I am going to try and force people to give me money for something, I want it to be worth their time and money. I am not convinced I have that capability. Oh sure I can entertain a few friends at parties and keep some people's interest online for about 4 minutes, but that is all free stuff. There is a higher standard when people shell out their dough for it.
To that end, I am cancelling my end of this project. I just feel I can't deliver something worth people's $10 in under a month.
Self doubt blows.
I wrote this big long post that was full of funny and wisdom, then erased it, 'cause it sucked, and that is pretty much what this is about.
I could go on a big long journey of self exploration where I bare my soul to the internet in a totally heretofore unheard of display of perfect honesty and forthrightness the likes of which have may never be seen again.Or, I can just say I am feeling like Anakin Skywalker. No not Cool sexy Anakin from episode three. Not even whiny petulant Anakin from episode two. I feel like pathetic life form Anakin from episode one. "I can't do it mom, I just can't do it."
I suppose if I spent more time listening to my L7 (NSFW) I would know what to do with all of those people who fill my head with doubt. I wonder what you do when it is you? Can you put yourself on your own shitlist?
As the target date approaches for my submission of craptacular verbiage to old white money guy, I am more and more convinced it can't be done. I think it was unrealistic to have had the expectations he had in the first place, but I also think this is a cromulant waste of time. (Sorry had a bet that I could fit both craptacular and a simpson's reference into the same thought...yay me)
When I read what I had written it just didn't seem like it was anything of value. Maybe I have unrealistic expectatrions of myself but the fact is, if I am going to try and force people to give me money for something, I want it to be worth their time and money. I am not convinced I have that capability. Oh sure I can entertain a few friends at parties and keep some people's interest online for about 4 minutes, but that is all free stuff. There is a higher standard when people shell out their dough for it.
To that end, I am cancelling my end of this project. I just feel I can't deliver something worth people's $10 in under a month.
Self doubt blows.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Welcome to the Bungle
We got fun and games....sorry quick air guitar moment before I jump right in.
Today I wish to talk about a subject near and dear to my heart....bewbs. See what I did there? It's funny because I have man boobs.
Ok before you run away in disgust or remove all of your clothing...depending on how interested in this subject you are, I should say I am not going to be vulgar or pornographic, I am just using shocking speech to get your attention and make myself giggle like a school boy.
The uncomfortable truth is, like most men, I am lead around by a leash, and that leash is not being used properly. Somewhere along the way something got jumbled up, and instead of thinking with little jimmy, I am just being dragged around by my uhmmmmm prehensile tailbone...or something...look it up, I did, and it is kind of funny.
The thing with me is I have painted myself in to corners more times than I would like to recall. I have misread, misunderstood, mismanaged more relationships with women than I can even count...assuming I stopped learning to count past like 8.
There is one reason for this and one reason only.
I can't say no to a women.
I mean I really can't do it. When they ask me for my last dime, I give it. When they ask me to get them woman stuff, I do it, even if am not a blood relative or married to them (which by the way is like the man code for that sort of thing...common law applies). When they ask me to stay up all night holding their hand and making life better I do it. When they say jump I say....well on that one I usually feign an injury or just run away. Point is, no is rarely if ever in my vocabulary if there is a woman in sight.
I am not sure why I have trouble saying no to women, I just do. Some psychologists might call it a mommy thing but to them I say Luke Skywalker. Luke was all like mommy died, auntie raised me well, no worries....but then he couldn't say no. He said no to the darkside and all of it's force juice, but could he say no to his own sister....even when she wanted to make out? Ok bad example but still....This is so not going to be about wanting mom's approval, if I wanted that I would ask for it, or at least send her my report cards or something. crazy freudists aside, why would I have this problem? Is it a problem?
Yes.
See what this means is, I can be played, and I mean like some dude who made a deal with the devil plays the fiddle played.
It means I will do almost anything for womanly type love...or even bare acknowledgement. Ok, I can accept that but....when's gonna be my time?
When do I get mine. When do I, your humble monkey servant get to wet his beak (not dirty, it is a gangsta reference...gangsta like the godfather and goodfellas and stuff, not as in like gold chains and $3500 rims on a $1500 dollar hooptie).
I just wanna say that the more a person is used and then thrown away without reciprocal usement, the more likely a person grows bitter and tired of the game.
All I am really saying is man, I feel like a woman right now. I feel like all those women who date immature guys who use them for sex and money and rides (don't look at me like that, I can't drive) and Popsicles. I feel at one with the sisterhood of the stolen pants.
Alas, only at the end does he see what all woman kind has gone through to get where they are now. I am used for what little intellect I have, what meager succor and aid I can provide, and for self esteem building.I wonder why no one uses me for my body? You know I once had a girl tell me she couldn't date me because that is all it would be, just using me for sexual gratification....we lived together for six months after that....I wonder why she cheated on me and never appreciated my romance gestures....Ok this is no doctor Phil moment, this is Oprah baby, on to the united sisterhood front.
Ok so from this day forth, I pledge never ever ever to use another woman for my own gratification...well right after I use this one who is using me for my own, and my friend's entertainment...I pledge to never ever ever take for granted the woman and or her breast tissue again. I pledge to hold sacred the womanly virtues and never ever ever make fun of them...unless some dude is all girly...and only if he claims to be a macho man.... I also pledge to just be honest.
Now ladies, what the freak are you gonna do for me?
That's what I thought. See if I ever help you out again....Ok I will, but I will complain about it.
PS There is a vieweskew reference in there, you just have to look close...so far I have managed to get starwars and kevin in to every post... I am awesomesauce with cake and whatnot.
Today I wish to talk about a subject near and dear to my heart....bewbs. See what I did there? It's funny because I have man boobs.
Ok before you run away in disgust or remove all of your clothing...depending on how interested in this subject you are, I should say I am not going to be vulgar or pornographic, I am just using shocking speech to get your attention and make myself giggle like a school boy.
The uncomfortable truth is, like most men, I am lead around by a leash, and that leash is not being used properly. Somewhere along the way something got jumbled up, and instead of thinking with little jimmy, I am just being dragged around by my uhmmmmm prehensile tailbone...or something...look it up, I did, and it is kind of funny.
The thing with me is I have painted myself in to corners more times than I would like to recall. I have misread, misunderstood, mismanaged more relationships with women than I can even count...assuming I stopped learning to count past like 8.
There is one reason for this and one reason only.
I can't say no to a women.
I mean I really can't do it. When they ask me for my last dime, I give it. When they ask me to get them woman stuff, I do it, even if am not a blood relative or married to them (which by the way is like the man code for that sort of thing...common law applies). When they ask me to stay up all night holding their hand and making life better I do it. When they say jump I say....well on that one I usually feign an injury or just run away. Point is, no is rarely if ever in my vocabulary if there is a woman in sight.
I am not sure why I have trouble saying no to women, I just do. Some psychologists might call it a mommy thing but to them I say Luke Skywalker. Luke was all like mommy died, auntie raised me well, no worries....but then he couldn't say no. He said no to the darkside and all of it's force juice, but could he say no to his own sister....even when she wanted to make out? Ok bad example but still....This is so not going to be about wanting mom's approval, if I wanted that I would ask for it, or at least send her my report cards or something. crazy freudists aside, why would I have this problem? Is it a problem?
Yes.
See what this means is, I can be played, and I mean like some dude who made a deal with the devil plays the fiddle played.
It means I will do almost anything for womanly type love...or even bare acknowledgement. Ok, I can accept that but....when's gonna be my time?
When do I get mine. When do I, your humble monkey servant get to wet his beak (not dirty, it is a gangsta reference...gangsta like the godfather and goodfellas and stuff, not as in like gold chains and $3500 rims on a $1500 dollar hooptie).
I just wanna say that the more a person is used and then thrown away without reciprocal usement, the more likely a person grows bitter and tired of the game.
All I am really saying is man, I feel like a woman right now. I feel like all those women who date immature guys who use them for sex and money and rides (don't look at me like that, I can't drive) and Popsicles. I feel at one with the sisterhood of the stolen pants.
Alas, only at the end does he see what all woman kind has gone through to get where they are now. I am used for what little intellect I have, what meager succor and aid I can provide, and for self esteem building.I wonder why no one uses me for my body? You know I once had a girl tell me she couldn't date me because that is all it would be, just using me for sexual gratification....we lived together for six months after that....I wonder why she cheated on me and never appreciated my romance gestures....Ok this is no doctor Phil moment, this is Oprah baby, on to the united sisterhood front.
Ok so from this day forth, I pledge never ever ever to use another woman for my own gratification...well right after I use this one who is using me for my own, and my friend's entertainment...I pledge to never ever ever take for granted the woman and or her breast tissue again. I pledge to hold sacred the womanly virtues and never ever ever make fun of them...unless some dude is all girly...and only if he claims to be a macho man.... I also pledge to just be honest.
Now ladies, what the freak are you gonna do for me?
That's what I thought. See if I ever help you out again....Ok I will, but I will complain about it.
PS There is a vieweskew reference in there, you just have to look close...so far I have managed to get starwars and kevin in to every post... I am awesomesauce with cake and whatnot.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Justification is a river in.....somewhere
I am not a big enough geek. Wait let me rephrase that.... I do not show how big of a geek I am very often, and that is a shame. For peace and happiness to abound one must embrace who and what they are and throw caution out the airlock.
My good friend Becky has spent a tremendous amount of time reminding me I am not that which I was. This is true, but right now I am immersed in that culture. I am swimming around in my own pensieve, pulling at random spaghetti strings of misbegotten youth. Oh this is fun to be sure. I get to relive the time I stole a pregnancy test for a girl (it was negative, and not mine to begin with) or the time I opened a gym bag full of ancient melee weapons handed to me by my street brother or the time I ran in to 15 dudes with machine guns. All of these stories are funny to me and they bring a smile to my face and remind me that there were good times.
Problem incoming, intensify forward fire power!
I am also reminded of harshness. I remember the time I was stabbed over Pantera, and I remember the time I was watching a dude die for being black, and I remember the time....well you know what, you get the friggin picture. This is a rerun by the way, and only contains like 30% new material, sorry to have waited this long to tell you.
all that being said, I think I made a bad decision on what project to work on next. I recently blew my emotional wad on a story (which I no longer have a copy of) that explained all of my feelings surrounding a certain crazy street chick. This was very hard for me and when it was done I felt so very content. But reliving those terrible moments of her darkest hours, and my own, were enough for a while.
I think my personal story is one of those project I need to pick up and put down from time to time. Not unlike Stephen King and his epic Dark Tower deal. He never really wrote that story, or any of them in a targeted manner with deadlines and pressure. He picked them up, put them down, worked, ignored, worked some more, then walked away, then sauntered back in the room.
I think about this guy, one of the best modern writers of fiction and I can't help but think about the fact that he has his way and George Lucas has his.
You see George had two different styles of writing the two different trilogies. The first three movies were written over several years. He had notebooks full of crap. Thoughts that occured to him from time to time while he was writing other crap. Every now and then he would sit down and go at a piece of the original trilogy and work with purpose, but he never really had a deadline. The result was fabulous.
Those three movies are a fantastic tale of family, love, triumph, tragedy, perseverance, rebellion, and laser swords.
Now, flash forward to the 90's. George had one month to write each of the new movies. No massive notes, no weird ideas in the shower, no collaboration, no narrative styling. He just pounded out whatever came in to his funny little head.
What resulted was a stinted, bloated story that needed to be rewritten on the fly and required more laser swords than acting talent.
I want my story to read like the first trilogy....with a few less muppets, not the new trilogy, with no chemistry and cgi friends to play with instead of the real thing.
For that reason I am shelving my personal saga. I want it to mean something when it comes out. I want it to really matter to me and those close to me....and I want a break from the ghosts.
Last night I slept like a baby for the first time in...well months really, maybe even two years. Some might credit the new bed....and I do as well, but it is something else as well. I banished the demons, cast a neato spell from my d and d handbook of how to be a devil worshiper in three easy steps, and all of the sudden....sleep...and inspiration came knocking.
I am geek here me roar. As geek I am going to write a story that will appeal to geeks and girls....cause as I have learned from two other writers, hook the females and well, you get to print money in your basement.
Character is the key, and right now, I don't want to focus on me, I would rather focus on a simpleton waging war across the afterlife for his soul, and that of his one true love. This is the story I have in me right now, and this is the story I am going to tell.
If you don't like it you can have your money back....but since you haven't paid yet, we're even. You can walk away now and we're all square, or you can hang out a little while longer and see what the monkey has for you. It's a funny little dance and in the end you will laugh, and if you have female parts I will try really hard to make you cry, and if you have geek parts, I promise large abyssal creatures that would make Bruce Campbell run.......for the shotgun/chainsaw hybrid...I mean come on, not even I can scare Ash!
My good friend Becky has spent a tremendous amount of time reminding me I am not that which I was. This is true, but right now I am immersed in that culture. I am swimming around in my own pensieve, pulling at random spaghetti strings of misbegotten youth. Oh this is fun to be sure. I get to relive the time I stole a pregnancy test for a girl (it was negative, and not mine to begin with) or the time I opened a gym bag full of ancient melee weapons handed to me by my street brother or the time I ran in to 15 dudes with machine guns. All of these stories are funny to me and they bring a smile to my face and remind me that there were good times.
Problem incoming, intensify forward fire power!
I am also reminded of harshness. I remember the time I was stabbed over Pantera, and I remember the time I was watching a dude die for being black, and I remember the time....well you know what, you get the friggin picture. This is a rerun by the way, and only contains like 30% new material, sorry to have waited this long to tell you.
all that being said, I think I made a bad decision on what project to work on next. I recently blew my emotional wad on a story (which I no longer have a copy of) that explained all of my feelings surrounding a certain crazy street chick. This was very hard for me and when it was done I felt so very content. But reliving those terrible moments of her darkest hours, and my own, were enough for a while.
I think my personal story is one of those project I need to pick up and put down from time to time. Not unlike Stephen King and his epic Dark Tower deal. He never really wrote that story, or any of them in a targeted manner with deadlines and pressure. He picked them up, put them down, worked, ignored, worked some more, then walked away, then sauntered back in the room.
I think about this guy, one of the best modern writers of fiction and I can't help but think about the fact that he has his way and George Lucas has his.
You see George had two different styles of writing the two different trilogies. The first three movies were written over several years. He had notebooks full of crap. Thoughts that occured to him from time to time while he was writing other crap. Every now and then he would sit down and go at a piece of the original trilogy and work with purpose, but he never really had a deadline. The result was fabulous.
Those three movies are a fantastic tale of family, love, triumph, tragedy, perseverance, rebellion, and laser swords.
Now, flash forward to the 90's. George had one month to write each of the new movies. No massive notes, no weird ideas in the shower, no collaboration, no narrative styling. He just pounded out whatever came in to his funny little head.
What resulted was a stinted, bloated story that needed to be rewritten on the fly and required more laser swords than acting talent.
I want my story to read like the first trilogy....with a few less muppets, not the new trilogy, with no chemistry and cgi friends to play with instead of the real thing.
For that reason I am shelving my personal saga. I want it to mean something when it comes out. I want it to really matter to me and those close to me....and I want a break from the ghosts.
Last night I slept like a baby for the first time in...well months really, maybe even two years. Some might credit the new bed....and I do as well, but it is something else as well. I banished the demons, cast a neato spell from my d and d handbook of how to be a devil worshiper in three easy steps, and all of the sudden....sleep...and inspiration came knocking.
I am geek here me roar. As geek I am going to write a story that will appeal to geeks and girls....cause as I have learned from two other writers, hook the females and well, you get to print money in your basement.
Character is the key, and right now, I don't want to focus on me, I would rather focus on a simpleton waging war across the afterlife for his soul, and that of his one true love. This is the story I have in me right now, and this is the story I am going to tell.
If you don't like it you can have your money back....but since you haven't paid yet, we're even. You can walk away now and we're all square, or you can hang out a little while longer and see what the monkey has for you. It's a funny little dance and in the end you will laugh, and if you have female parts I will try really hard to make you cry, and if you have geek parts, I promise large abyssal creatures that would make Bruce Campbell run.......for the shotgun/chainsaw hybrid...I mean come on, not even I can scare Ash!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Anger is a gift
Emotion drives the world and this is a truth no one can deny, even robots. Let's face it, every robot I can think of has been driven by emotion unwanted.
Data, totally emotional dude who stove to find them damn emotions wherever he could.
Robot from I, Robot, the only robot in the movie with emotions. Uh oh! All of the sudden 3 rules safe means jack!
AI, overly emotional, even for the I see dead people boy.
I could go on but I think I have established my geek bona fides on this issue.
For the last several nights I have been listening to Coast to Coast. If you don't know what this is, let me enlighten you. It is a radio program devoted to paranoid schizophrenia. I am not kidding. It is a show all about aliens, the Illuminati, small demons invading our breakfast cereal and all other manner of conspiracies Barack Obama is hiding from the world.
So, I, a totally normal free thinking rational human being has been listening to this show...I am doing this right now and as I am writing I just heard the line, "and they don't want you talking..." yeah dude, that is exactly why he is on an internationally syndicated radio program with hundreds of affiliates worldwide, because they are scared of him talking! Where was I? Ok so this much sane brain of mine has been listening to the rabble rousing of various dissidents and now I am angry.
I am not angry about the fact the world is going to end Thursday, or that the military industrial complex is keeping us all under their thumb by putting Prozac in our potatoes, no sir and or ma'am, I can handle the aliens in their strange attempt to understand humanity by continually ramming strange objects into our rectums, I can handle the fact that George Lucas is a historian and not just a horrible filmmaker. Here's what I can't handle.
My life.
I think that some sort of insidious smokey back room filled with old white men conspiracy group is trying to keep me down.
Seriously.
No really, get back here!
Ok so this is what the heck I mean. I am stuck in a feedback loop. I am guilted in to doing things I do not want to do, being places I do not want to be, and feeling things I do not want to feel.
Going in to a place every day to get abused and used for no remuneration is bad enough, but now I am being made to feel guilty about it. But wait there's more.
For some reason I am expected to be the one to initiate all communication. It is true. I have tested this theory out over the last week and found out I am one of those people that is out of sight out of mind.
Ok whatever. But now I am made to feel guilty for liking people, who seem pleasently nice to me. I am guilted in to feeling bad about liking other people who may be unhealthy for me because of history and other unnatural acts of mental cruelty to myself.
And I can come to only one conclusion in order to remain confident in my ability not to become a raving lunatic on the radio.
The cirgarette smoking man wants me silenced. He wants me second guessing my actions and feelings. He wants me worried in to inaction. The cigarette smoking man wants me browbeaten and confused.
You see it has to be the cigarette smoking man, because if isn't that dude and his croanies, well then it can only be one other person.....me!
So instead of taking personal responsibility for my position and working on fixing it, or making my position known, I am going to sink my inconsiderable resources into fighting the power. Please feed my dillusion and join my battle. Together we can strike a blow for insanity and lack of self discipline. You and I can take the man down! And then I don't know, we can hang out and get a latte, or perhaps train some robots to feel.
Data, totally emotional dude who stove to find them damn emotions wherever he could.
Robot from I, Robot, the only robot in the movie with emotions. Uh oh! All of the sudden 3 rules safe means jack!
AI, overly emotional, even for the I see dead people boy.
I could go on but I think I have established my geek bona fides on this issue.
For the last several nights I have been listening to Coast to Coast. If you don't know what this is, let me enlighten you. It is a radio program devoted to paranoid schizophrenia. I am not kidding. It is a show all about aliens, the Illuminati, small demons invading our breakfast cereal and all other manner of conspiracies Barack Obama is hiding from the world.
So, I, a totally normal free thinking rational human being has been listening to this show...I am doing this right now and as I am writing I just heard the line, "and they don't want you talking..." yeah dude, that is exactly why he is on an internationally syndicated radio program with hundreds of affiliates worldwide, because they are scared of him talking! Where was I? Ok so this much sane brain of mine has been listening to the rabble rousing of various dissidents and now I am angry.
I am not angry about the fact the world is going to end Thursday, or that the military industrial complex is keeping us all under their thumb by putting Prozac in our potatoes, no sir and or ma'am, I can handle the aliens in their strange attempt to understand humanity by continually ramming strange objects into our rectums, I can handle the fact that George Lucas is a historian and not just a horrible filmmaker. Here's what I can't handle.
My life.
I think that some sort of insidious smokey back room filled with old white men conspiracy group is trying to keep me down.
Seriously.
No really, get back here!
Ok so this is what the heck I mean. I am stuck in a feedback loop. I am guilted in to doing things I do not want to do, being places I do not want to be, and feeling things I do not want to feel.
Going in to a place every day to get abused and used for no remuneration is bad enough, but now I am being made to feel guilty about it. But wait there's more.
For some reason I am expected to be the one to initiate all communication. It is true. I have tested this theory out over the last week and found out I am one of those people that is out of sight out of mind.
Ok whatever. But now I am made to feel guilty for liking people, who seem pleasently nice to me. I am guilted in to feeling bad about liking other people who may be unhealthy for me because of history and other unnatural acts of mental cruelty to myself.
And I can come to only one conclusion in order to remain confident in my ability not to become a raving lunatic on the radio.
The cirgarette smoking man wants me silenced. He wants me second guessing my actions and feelings. He wants me worried in to inaction. The cigarette smoking man wants me browbeaten and confused.
You see it has to be the cigarette smoking man, because if isn't that dude and his croanies, well then it can only be one other person.....me!
So instead of taking personal responsibility for my position and working on fixing it, or making my position known, I am going to sink my inconsiderable resources into fighting the power. Please feed my dillusion and join my battle. Together we can strike a blow for insanity and lack of self discipline. You and I can take the man down! And then I don't know, we can hang out and get a latte, or perhaps train some robots to feel.
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