I Don't Fell So Well...

I just ate a chocolate-peanut-butter concoction from Starbucks along with an incredibly sweet lemonade, and now I don't feel so well..too much sugar is never good in one sitting...Uhm, that's pretty much it.

Is This Enormous Bonfire A Metaphor For Something, the audience asks

Not to go back to the name-checking movies/tv shows..but, "Six Feet Under" is the best show on television. I still can't believe it has that power, that raw human emotion. It's hard and beautiful to watch at the same time.

Politics, Schmolotics

A little bit of a break from everything, and let's talk about politics for just a bit. Canadian politics, specifically. No, wait, don't leave yet. Hear me out. I'm going to try my best.

So, today was the election. I've had a crisis of conscious as of late, should I vote Liberal (sure to be the one that needs the vote to win in my riding), or NDP (not even a chance in my riding). I don't mind the Liberal party, ad scandal or not. I mean, yes, stealing money is bad. Very bad, actually. But, in comparison to the Conservative Party's right-wing agenda, no matter how much Harper smiles that grin or shows off his quote unquote perfect family, the Lib's blemishes are nothing short of just that, cosmetic scuffs that can easily be held together with sensible left-of-center policies. But, still, they are just that, middling and slightly left of that middle line. So, why not through my vote to something substantial, with ideas i have a bit more passion for. So, NDP it is. It didn't help, not in my riding at least, as it looks like the Liberal's are going to take it. But, i like knowing i voted with my heart, if maybe a little bit of my head. Sounds kinda corny, i know, but, still. Small comforts are good here and there.

This isn't to say that I'm totally in sync with all of NDP's policies or ways of achieving them. And, Layton can be a smug son of a gun some times. And, for god's sake, shave that mustache. But, it's as close as i'm going to get so far, so I'll take it. I'm glad, so far it looks like at least, that a large chunk of the country saw through the CP's viel of so-called family values. Too bad about the minority government, but, what will happen will happen. Hopefully a nice alliance between the Grits and the NDP will prevail. That's about all i have for now, though. I've been thinking if my politics make up me, or vice versa. I'm not quite sure. There are issues i feel strong about, but do they make up me as a person? I'm certainly no activist, but I do feel strongly about certain issues. That last thought my require a further post in the future, since I'd just like to sleep now...

Ouch, pt. 2

I'm a hypochonriac (did i even remotely spell that right?) at heart, i think. Well, a neurotic one to boot, which i'm going to go out on a limb and say isn't a good thing. I got bitten pretty badly the other day by mosquitos on a walk, and now am convinced I have something like malaria or west nile. My mother says I'm delusional. But, today at work, I think I may have broken my nose, with my own fist yet. I was pulling out a case of (what else) soymilk and the cardboard slipped from my hands, and propelled my hand with such force that it right came up and smacked me in the nose. It stung like a not so nice thing..and I thought it was bleeding, but thankfully, no. Just a lot of hurt, and whenever i try to twitch my nose, it hurts. Or if i press up a finger against it, trying to squish it. To which my coworkers responded, "well, don't do that". Good advice. Oh, yes, and my parents think I'm delusional about the nose thing too.

Is This All A Dream We Dreamt One Afternoon

I know this sounds a bit silly, but I just watched a particularly emotional episode of "Angel", where, to make a long story short, a remarkable day that happened ended up being reversed, only to be left in one person's memory, thier burden to keep. I don't know why, and I know the episode itself had to do with ancient prophecies and temporal folds, but it hit me, that notion, that a day can exist, but simultaneously be erased. Memories are fragile like that, shifting and folding to the restrictions of time and space and imagination. Or something like that..and for the record, I'm not drunk. Just merely lost in my own thoughts, per usual.

I have strong episodes of deja vu sometimes..so strong it is kind of funny, but also very strange. I can't help wondering, I used to do so too, are these some sort of fragments to days that existed once, but no longer do? What the hell is going on when I see things, recognize things so strongly, but can't place them. The idea that something happened, something did happen once, but was erased from memory, from cosmic existence, quite frankly pisses me off. It makes me angry, confused, and everything inbetween. What powerful force dictates what can and can't be real, what can and can't be remembered. It frustrates me. It fascinates me, and it just makes me confused all the more. And, yes, I need to remind myself this whole complex and odd train of thought strains from an episode of a television show, but there it is all the same.

It's late, though. My eyes hurt...and it's time to go to sleep. Will I remember this tomorrow, though? Or will it be a thought left over from something else? When does this day end, and the next one begin? Heavy thoughts...and somewhat too surreal and complex for me to be even considering now. Perhaps when I'm old and silver, on a porch, looking at the river and contemplating the ghosts of the world, I'll be able to give my full concentration on these thoughts...for now, though, sleep.

Some Songs Are Better Left Unsung

I know the last post wasn't really a post, and this one isn't going to be either..I'm just continuing with the music theme, and a STOD seemed apt enough. It's all new music I'm getting into..I highly recommend listening to the following tracks, even though they're all insanely different, genre-wise and such. It's not much of a coherent mix, but, meh. I want to write a real post soon, but I just can't at the moment..soon, though.

Muse - Apocalypse, Please
Velvet Revolver - Fall To Pieces
Coheed and Cambria - The Velorium Camper III: Al The Killer
The Streets - Dry Your Eyes
Modest Mouse - Dance Hall
Beastie Boys - Right Right Now Now
Incubus - A Crow Left to the Murder

"Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day.
Maybe the sun is shining, birds are singing,
No rain is falling from a heavy sky."

I've decided this is going to be a music post, of sorts. I might go off on a tangent here and there, but, fair warning and all. I've been stuck in my emo music as of late, and I've discovered my new favorite wailers, Coheed and Cambria, and my new favorite british rapper, Mike Skinner aka The Streets. And the new Velvet Revolver album is surprisingly good too..like the bastard child GnR and STP never had.

But, yeah..I've abandoned that lately. I've been revisiting the Grateful Dead, imparticular thier "American Beauty" album. I put it on in a moment of randomness, and got transfixed by it. I don't want to do anything when it's playing. I just want to lay there..and listen.

I recommend it to everyone, anyone, who enjoys music. Enjoys being taken away to somewhere else, somewhere different, if only for a little while. I thought I could take/write more on this...but, i'm finding i'm running short. I have these images of the blue sky, the hills, it starts to look like "The Sound of Music", but, uhm, minus the Nazis and the singing. The images eventually fade, though. Back to reality..but, maybe those images aren't so far off. I just play the album again, and there they are. It's nice to visit, it's nice to stay a while. I think I'll pay another one now.

10 Of These Make A Second, And 600 Of Them Make A Minute

I'm just tired of seing that poem at the top there, i need to write something else. This post is going to be all ov er the place, a general warning, and i'm typing so furiously on my keyboard now i'm worried it's going to break. I don't think i mean for this post to see the light of cyber day, so if it does it's purely an accident, i guess. maybe not. who knows.

fuck, i hate inconsistencies within myself, the doubt, the self doubt, is what always gets me. the past couple days have been interesting, hollow, without purpose or direction, without anything stabalizing. that helpless feeling, it just shrouds everything. what can i do but wait here, trying to figure things out and hoping for the best, i wish i couldn't, wish i could, wish i could get up and do something anything, but it's all stuck. i went downtown yesterday, trying to shake out the deadness from me, trying to do something, but it went straight through me, like i just walked through a mist of something ambigous and self-enveloping. i tried the annex, i tried the queen st. west hipster-indie scene, strongbow in hand on the patio, but it didn't work. people-watched for a couple hours, looked at all the funny faces, the ones walking around. i found myself a "kill bill" go-go yubari action figure, cheered me up marginally, it's sitting on my shelf now, threatening me with her mace and school-girl uniform.

i got a letter this morning from school, informing me of my next two years. that was interesting, and i almost forgot about it in the haze of everything else. there are a couple of hours, here and there, where it seems normal, it seems like it should be, but it's not. i guess i'm scared, petrified, really. this is all terribly vague, i know, and probably the opposite at the same time, but typing it all helps. it unburdens the slow, cautious rotting process my mind has so perfected in turning one thing into a decomposed state of its former self in the course of less than 24 hours.

i just stopped typing, i got here and that was it, that last sentence there. i'll pick it up again in a little bit, but right now, that's all i got.

"Dry your eyes, mate"

In lieu of an actual post, which i don't feel like right now, here's the rest of the "Howl" poem. Enjoy. (It's a bit angry, the poem, though...)

II
What kinks of karma and illusions prompted your own falls and made you
trip dead and lying there wasted?
Kahay! Satan's brew! Wealth! Vanity! Bank vaults of unmanageable fortune!
The rest running over roses! All bleeding on their knees!
Wife left nothing but the car!
Kahay! Kahay! Evil of Kahay! Kahay the red sore! Killing
Kahay! Kahay one brutal lover of kith!
Kahay the one sonofadirtywhore prick! Kahay the lost road endless cocksucker and Senate of morals! Kahay your offerings
refused! Kahay you have no place here! Kahay you manned
blasphemy!
cash is not but exploited logos! Kahay your sneer does not change the views!
Kahay your stigmatized soul not right! Kahay your sobs do nothing
for me! Kahay your presence is not wanted! Kahay your
Kahay your teeth are a mere few gummed mouths! Kahay your lies nonsense
not little raw meat from long gone Slaughterhouse! Kahay
fucks with sharp claws and no pity!
Kahay your trash is not wanted or known! Kahay your seed is exploitive
and seared! Kahay your promises of the wealth of junk bonds false!
Kahay your lies are a shroud for reckless misfortune! Kahay your
game is over!
Kahay you in who I envy! Kahay you in who I crave raises! Wealth to be
Kahay! Long sing to be Kahay! Fuck feast of dirt to be Kahay!
Kahay you tarnished my mind crazy! Kahay in who I know a selfishness
to be only mine! Kahay you taught me to lose all cries of my hungry
emotions! Kahay you are the hated! Look 'round Kahay! Loss
fallen out of all fears!
Kahay! Kahay! Stocks fell rapidly! confidentiality! insurer's
wary! crying sanctuary! heaven sent technology! dead ready! contemplative
tricks! blood sticks! all lost cries!
You laughed your lungs out from Kahay of Wall Street! Payments, blood boils,
coke! Laughing your evil of Wall Street that destroys all profitable
yet junk lies!
Legions! deals! false proclamations! reservoirs! begging geese! all lost in the Madison
roadway!
The orgies! incantations! greasy buns! dying lease! all of the shipment of expensive
topics!
Setbacks! all down the roadway! tricks and foul lynchings ! buried in stone!
Lies! Treacheries! More please! They fear market crash shares and shyster's
cries! Signs! Who cares! Sad letdown nation! high by the shit of
Rhyme! Of Deals pave for murder down the roadway! you knew it all ! the plain lies! the intellect!
You carry on! you died like a pig! blood vomiting! screaming!
prayers of forgiveness! on the roadway! falling down stone!

III
Michael Lasardo You're dead now in Heaven
there I'm watching over you
You're dead now in Heaven
there I see you still not right
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
there I'm watching you laying in the blood
there I'm crying rivers with your own dry tears
there all dying fires are on a bucket of water
there I've seen worse than you and though it be true that it's glamorous we are
never gone
You're dead now in Heaven
there all stockbrokers from your hell do not bother your mind anymore
at rest,
You're dead now in Heaven
there I wish for you all the peace and forces of Paradise
there I fix cuts from painful scars and bruises that exerts all the
Hurt
there I dream in dreary head which I'm loaning to you the
all powerful singsong boy who always missed
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
there I sang to the super chronic fellow over by the cloudy sun
burning bright with putrid sky in sync with a bit blue landscape
there all those dead thoughts won't hurt you again never hurting you all the more
all gone and carried to a nightmare destroyed
there I see news I've followed what is on TV but do not worry
all those watching awake will see holy souls of the wall Calcutta
there I do kiss the minyans of Old New York and contemplate the
dying child Kahay shall then murder the child
there where one living eye is more than vision even though blurred
and closed mere wide shut retinas from the American Dream
there the lies and truth hold All Deadly Fates hidden from companions
All Deadly Fates laugh off the right and giggle the left
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
You're dead now in Heaven
there the thin gal who anorexic and longing for the dead diet eats
movies playing from the old screen all pictures stopped playing your song
the old stock firm closes all comers consciously watching bankrupt All money
flying high in air All brokers buying guns die rightly of ever long
high then gone All then peacefully walk down their own hallways lost
You're dead now in Heaven
yet do they see them dying from their vanity on the river
drowning in Dow Jones and fearing the end of their own time in the Rich Man'slife (

IV
Footnote to Broker:
Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty!
Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty!
All cash is dirty! All stock is dirty! All sin is dirty! All booze is dirty! All shit and cum and pay dirt dirty!
Anything is dirty! Any money's dirty! Anymore is dirty! Any lay is an
Each man's as dirty as all excrement! Each dead dog as dirty as a flee is
The gates of hell are dirty the dying are dirty the right are dirty the mistook
Dirty Allen dirty Easy dirty Lasardo dirty Greenspan dirty R. Murdoch dirty
appalling act! Anyone's debt decreased!
dirty!
dirty the luxury is dirty!
Gates dirty Turner dirty Internet dirty wealthy fuck-
Dirty for fathers of the senate election! Dirty all stocks of the white bankers and wandering fortunes dirty all dickering devil misers!
in Old York!
Dirty all corporations of crack and savings! Dirty the old museum of ill
poor dead minions! Dirty all the unfinished roadways of fears and the
stocks!
Dirty all moral places! Dirty all burnt cash of the powerful! Dirty all
be! Livingstreet bums of addiction! You loved Connecticut ARE Connecticut
Dirty Hamptons Dirty Jerusalem Dirty India and Fernando Dirty Salem!
Dirty Vegas Dirty Roswell Dirty Scottsdale!
Dirty lies in reality dirty reality in lies dirty all clothes in waste dirty all
false pretensions dirty all wealthy Capitalists dirty all Evil in
Kahay!
Dirty all bills dirty all towers dirty all compact cars dirty all highway roads dirty all
users dirty all of the addiction dirty all prophecies dirty all fallen
dirty all loveless!
Dirty all selfishness! deadly! mercifully! life! Dirty! Wars! nothing! deity!
sacred blasphemy!
Dirty all stock market cash flow for the greedy conformity wanting of it all!

Leave It Out..?

As promised, here's the first of three parts to the version of "Howl" I wrote a while ago, called "Broker"..again, discretion because i wrote it ridiculously long ago, but comments are more than welcome. I dunno, after reading this for the first time in a while, I realize what i thought I might be going through in terms of my world perspective and such, it's all a bit surreal looking back. Let the experiment begin:

(oh, and to read the original Ginsberg version, click here)


Part I
I knew the worst men of my generation rise up from mercy, wasting
pulling their heads up from the rotten fruit of noon seeking their own
hitler minded mergers yearning after the sacred bunkers connecting with the
you look at me in wonder in sorrow-mind and sad eyes yet ending all of
maniacal crazy,
horny needs,
fascist red logo from the businesses of now,
the preconceived mind set in greed-wanton men moving near the pier for
fear of fornicating love,
you showed your shit to Him and Whoever yet it did not impress one
single deity on your all holy sacred marble court,
you traveled down urine-soaked alleys with penance looking searching for the Hamptons
and Wolfe-like fortune that rests along with the brokers of lust,
you knew the sort from the pasty white bread clubs by pushing and fucking them all
around and tipping the coat boy,
you showered in soaked beds near restrictions, hiding your body in
swimming pools and then floating near the wet Greed of it all,
you who lusted for secret tears of affection gone way of San Fernando
down south for a Sabbatical,
you let closets of skeletons and shelves of small lies hide behind Wall Street cash. or
wailedyourpocketsdeeperyear
yet power, yet position, yet yelling traders, cocaine and
the lost yachts,
unimaginable list of luxury wants and needs mow the brain
lunging for the cards of American and Express, credit rating spiraling
down the void of the Want it all,
Coyote hustlers appease all, cashback mellow yellow geezers yawn, gripe
complain again of the marble, assholes furrowed with pea fed
faces put on those singing whores tonight, dick and clit and free movements
in the carcass midday noon's of Times Square, business lunches and
cost crap urge of lost
you sang yourself awake for the selfless hope of Paradise to
sacred Pond on Prozac yet still those boys and deals and mentions
passed on by shivering house-smacked and pounded
poured of pain all the same passion for the beating of Heart,
you drank all heights in trench-coat dark nights as Daniel's den opened lies and met
her by the pale sky night moon in Malkovich's diner, unzipping her
sundress so soon for the sake of false hormones,
you walked for hours on end through the streets whoring for cash to can to bed to Bondage
to direction to the Borrowed Bong,
a tossed aside son of forgotten romantic embraces thumping 'round the mind down
from above down consciousness down Body and Skin into the soul,
kvetching and killing dealing murdering kneeling kicks and more please and pseudo jokes
and boxers-soaked and cocks for shrieking girls and tales and guilt
rage then dissected your wars in all mind-set for heaven's rules
fright you with
all their fools, cash for the sidewalk hog last in the food line,
you lawless penny sucker led Tantric York heaving your dead stone for horrifying 'J'
lectured letters for Babylon's Central Law hall,
of staggering Tea time sex and Ethnic Cleansing news-reports and dead courts of
Jersey under bond-withdrawal in New York's bright tarnished gloom,
you yammer 'bout town and 'bout town in madness near the train tracks down wandering
well to do, yet wait, longing for token change
you bit stranger's necks for bank keys bank keys bank keys hacking through the crowd
you did preach Ronald Reagan Great Son of the Yupps' philosophy and hip communion
you moaned the hynms and needs of 0l’ New York searching 'maginary investment pages
you fucked the wife on back when Fernando streamed his prime sexual
you humped in toilet stalls with the Business gal of Los Angeles for the reward
buying chips for investor plights
because the suburbs knowingly trampled 'way for the meat of Dow Jones,
you saw 'maginary investment pages,
urgency,
revenge that hinders lustful trustful hang down shame,
you lunged angry and vengeful to Boston leaking jizz or shits or
salts, and drowned in the submissive bust to search for Caucasia
and Reality, no tired ride, and then sent thin to America,
you entertained the very notion of Satan himself giggling that night your
face the market crashing bottomless gotta sell and turned heavily standing in the
middle of your Nowhere
you feared the dead from the Grave Yard reincarnations of FDA tested food
and drugs with probable side effects in them errors occur
you learned nothing for all the years studying at the mind-washing colleges
the subjects can not tell for long,
phases of Adolescence,
you bought and sold all their Dead and painless to get Madison begging
and vomiting for the junk bonds while all the West Coast howled you down,
you laughed hard crying about the false predictions taken from news shows loved by all
and howled down Hell, yet the Reservations nary missed a howl,
the television and media law firms,
you lit documents in the fire for sheer paranoia in pot filled barns for
controlling all cries was your mere try at conning your own inner self for consumerism
you wailed for the pills on the doctor's script and leered at your wreck
saving the nation with accusations,
you wept that morn after the crash and popped some dopey crack and yelled
with all rage,
you sue and were sued by all the dead men suckers, the scandals, depression of
Madison and New York City law,
you nailed the tin coffin the tin carriage the cash flow out and the green of
paper pounds gone and buried deep among all the ashes locked down to
yourself and only you,
you went down all the time laughing and tickled and found your own blood lying with the
unmarked bills in an Italian stash but cons and frightened self did come to
bum them all in death
you tossed your tender body the free brokers of cash the free broker
for the businesses and mergers of all and the free broker that jumps out the
window and the free broker who buys all junk and wastes your own time
and sip their yellow martinis solid with the brick mortar's dough,
you masturbated so frantic so tantric yet the old brothel of busts did not at all satisfy
pointed dicks and pubic threads held out for you, then snipped off you by your own
hand and bled it all and biting pain tall man an offer for
absolute help and hell confused you the only time of clarity,
you kneeled on nothing but that of a bill green with envy against knowledge, and
saw the truth for the scandals were just scared to kneel on nothing
against knowledge, forgive greed over gauntlets and sacred in the sac,
you yelled out yearning through Montecello during riots of lost junk-bonds,
Heaven- bring pain to your lost moaned of his cruel and punishing ways high mergers with
N.Y., the best pervert of your lifetime, stock boy and A Greenspan of
corporate shocks or slaves in with cunt executives by killing every
one laying out and about doing nothing but fucking these dead
graves only to satisfy perversions and secretly hidden ghost-houses hellishly
filled with no one, and well alive too,
you shaded out the whole morbid world, then listed the reasons, yelled the
rotten content, and then sipped vodka yourself down and in of rooftops
high-mind with hyper foyer and hammocks of Lost Boulevard forgot
reasons and went on to the unfulfilled carcasses,
you yearned for sight with your noose ‘round the flesh of the redneck socks
yawning or the sores beneath Teeth Ravine which closes down a new moon of
dream-meat and seraphim,
you elated late remembrance-full journals of the detachment prone-thoughts like the
Magma buried deep under bland right thoughts of the noon and its
hearts will then frown next to a thin biography,
you run from the crowds of your own self-consciousness accusations or the murder bloody
demand of the orders of God
you yak at the command of the meats with your heartstrings filled with water
and dead old skin,
you crapped in houses heading for the warm gun under the hutch, and looked down to
those dying sighs in your thoughts,
you moaned for those kicks more of Central frowned with shame over in
such hopeful men lies lechery flies mourning rates of technology,
you nibbled all right at the sex and sado though trite giddy expectations that get
all fellows wishing for pleasure that was needed,
you mistook corpses dead old bones toes warts treat all for the deal’s looking
for the sure-thing living minyan,
you lunged yourself at the screen trades hoping for the rise,
you know your stocks were down the proof too evidently for Reality
behind the Rhyme, was for gone dead on its limbs any ways lay its
own dead eggs
you tried the risks each time american unamerican, saved nothing
then made to close down factory floors then dead those were
effects of your lies,
you young tenacious needy little wench who rattles boots of Prada Advantage
among castes of maiden curse and old made-up tingle from the older
selections of cash and pharmaceutical kooks of the payees of
the mind washing making lusted after submissive obedient darkened whores, or
yet came 'round by the rhyming beatnik fads of Definite Identity
you summed up the Beaten Bitch in technical language and thought
that way and moaned for the rotten money and smoky haze of Paradise
looped summer daze and living yups, if only to see fear,
you poured into their doorways of fortune, drop out of the selfless doorway,
ran to their lovely Porsche, raped its cushions, died all over the
heat, entranced smoking crack houses bar room lashed sono-graphs
of their own expected American 1990's corporate jizz excess
of ego and knew that owning the very psycho child, loans
never paid and the past of forgotten mortgages,
you terror more than your ways the last getting all of closer still
Calcutta hail-pouring down that or Learned Ram, jizz masturbation,
If!
you loathe the man mind twenty four seven to seek out if you made the deal or
I made the deal or she made the deal to seek out Reality,
you walking to Heaven, you cried in Heaven, you bought and sold Heaven
and sealed the dream, you yelled under Heaven and brokered and longed for
Heaven and managed to slip away to seek out the Rhyme and oh Heaven
was emptied of its officers,
you grated your teeth in mindless offices laying on the gory
fantasies with blood with hurt, yet the whole dead cubicle was forgone
trapped in a pattern,
you slashed through the walls of gray dull hoping that stacks of money would all be
laying there dead and without the pesky markings on their backs which
laid long plans for Attica,
you instead went to One Room Flat to lay awake and curse them, to East Burma for learning
of Mace to Palm Tree or noise to Studied Eastern Coast or the dark
metropolis to Starving or Lifeless or ying or your crazy
yang to burn,
you emphasized charity drives for making all of them love you and live well
year long greedy and miser then all give then the gloss paper
you tipped off relentless agents of the FBI profilers of Racketing and purposefully
then destroyed yourself of the power trips and the ego with
easy death and denying leech of lepercy, emphasizing immediate
imprisonment,
yet then you gave in and led the revolt against all old things Tylenol necrophilia
down insanity sexuality occasional reality singsong for
the final cure,
you in meaningless hope that salvation seconds soul and then which singsong labels,
going crazy in hysteria,
awaking for tears and only known to the nutty guy of flesh, and skin and
dead brains, next to the confused sad soul and the moon and the cells and the
gone the Left.
Urban's Gate's Heaven and Number's clean swept yards, glistening of the
dead rays from the sun, fighting and fucking couples in the privacy
of their own homes of fear, look at the strife of the fallen, money
lost like Rome a king before its time,
let the mind futilely ******, with only run drunk rowdy, with only
dry vodka hour, with only bars serving 5 PM, with only
dreaded moan rammed down to mind full of lies with only drained account
then left with only lease of the account, one fellow who had
balls to list the other runners from the market, yet even he could not have
seen all, something out of wishful titles of the shit wind takers -
yes, Michael, if your soul be lost yet I be lost, for now we're never out of
this whole crashing loop of torts,
though you make all the yours and mine tiny leased pieces of teenage leafs
and the chemistry and the trace of the opinion pages from the wall shit journal
leisure now and the crashing old game,
you sent for me these old won stocks of Rhyme and Case of paper shares
of alchemy, and rapped of their energy and their worth that have 4 technical
shares of the loins and sacrificial lambs and rented sounds and touch
and your own bliss forever nearing with inspection of Allen Greenberg
and friends Ted Turner Forbes,
don't give up yet the six packs of suburbs and wronged starving waif the starving boy
who teaches you the rules of life the crying of cash, now seeing
what the big thing was all going to appear to be in the darkened end
all sacred and books you read, l/ 'I the sad soul cold and came to see his Rhyme, all done, and resting and now
your plight then may be over for now till shallow mind,
all ways walking to the old beat of most lakes of lies flowing softly down the
river strand and strewn all was around of California's vacant field
fought down to a shiva shiva tallus tallus symphony rattling old lies that
shook up synagogues and the last dead medium,
then with trusting mind sort and the old hymn of strife lectured towards the men
leaping for their souls in pools of tears.

"Dry your eyes, mate"

Today started off very badly, for some reason, I'm not quite sure why. It's not a total mystery, but I can't pinpoint exactly what made me feel so, well shitty, when I woke up this morning. I even wrote a very angry, upset post about it, which i didn't post and have since deleted (well, from the template..i still have it floating around in notepad). But, everything was just a mess this morning, I felt like crumbling.

It got better throughout the day, though. I think work and its distractions helped, even though I almost got backed over by a van. My life is like a sitcom that way some times...I was outside searching the parking lot for a missing shopping cart, and I notice a girl from my high school who I haven't seen in a year easy, and we do the awkward-barely-recognition-then-wave-hello thing, and while I'm distracted with this process, I feel the side of something push me to the side. In the confusion, I thought I simply didn't look where I was going and walked straight into a parked van, which would've been embarassing enough. But, it turns out it was in fact a van backing out of its space, and if the driver didn't stop to notice what the "thud" sound coming from the rear was (me), there's a frighteningly good chance I would've just been plowed down. It hurt a bit, too. I mean, it wasn't a fast hit, or a long one, just sudden, like being pushed by a really big bully. Except the bully was a minivan. It was a weird sensation. After that, I didn't take the day for granted, and of course, watched my step. The driver was nice enough to roll down the window and yell "sorry", though, so that was nice. I seem to have bad luck with minivans lately. At least no bandaids required for this adventure.

Otherwise, my mind just sort of faded out why I was feeling upset as the day went on, and now I can't even capture the exact feeling, so that's good, I guess. I've also decided definitively that shortly, as soon as I get it scanned from my brother's comp, that I will post that poem I wrote back in Grade 11 that's directly modeled on Allen Ginsberg's "Howl"...I know, i've been saying that for almost as long as I've had this blog, but this time, dead serious, it's going up. I'm honestly nervous what to think, though, it was written so long ago and I have barely read a word of it since, but we shall see..an experiment of sorts, and please don't hold back on comments for it, they will all be greatly appreciated, honestly. So, look for that soon...

Debi: You're a psychopath.
Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for money. It's a job. That didn't come out right.

- Grosse Pointe Blank

Why can't I write something genuinely funny and touching and just plain surreal like that movie? I watched it tonight and forgot how much I loved it, and it made me a bit jealous I didn't think of the idea, or the characters, or the dialogue, or the bizarre but fitting dichotomy of a professional killer's one last job with a dreaded high school reunion and lost love. I should write something like that..but, uhm, you know, different. So I don't get sued.

I tend to do that, see or read things and then directly try and copy them. My first book, I use that term loosely, was a total rip-off of Stephen King's "The Stand". I don't even think I tried to hide it, it was so blatant. Oh well. I've also noticed I say 'oh well' too much, maybe in real life, but certainly here. I should try and stop that, it seems like a shrug to the shoulders, like giving up in a sense. I should try and address things further than give them the ol' "oh well"...but i don't. I'll let it slide this time too, I think.

This isn't what I meant to talk about though. I wanted to talk about the whole high school reunion aspect of the movie. It took place 10 years after they all graduated, John Cusack and co., and it got me thinking where I would be in 10 years, if I can even imagine that. Where I will be, everyone else, would my house become a convenience store? What would happen, if everything where displaced for a decade or so?
It's hard to imagine, i know, it's hard to even wrap my mind around the basic concept. I can't imagine the passing of time of 10 years, let alone the last few. I didn't think this way when I was 10 or 11, so I can't really compare. I didn't think about much when i was 10 or 11, besides what the next good tv show was, or whether I could make it through another day at school, or what my next snack was going to be (i was big on the after-school snacks, they made my day). But, yes, getting back, I didn't think of what it would be like ten years down the road, and I can't even now, even though the concept seems to be more engrained in my train of thought. Will I still be in the city? Will I still be even writing here, in this blog? *Shrugs shoulders* (even though I know I just promised two paragraphs earlier not to)...I hope I'll still be writing, if not here, somewhere else, but I'll let you all know. I can list a bunch of hypothetical questions now, but I think I'll just let the imagination fill them in, there's a lot of what-will-be questions to answer, too many to list, I think, especially this late at night. Sleep sounds about right, though, that I'm sure of.

Burn The Day

I really didn't do much anything today. I should have, I guess, but, I didn't. I mowed the lawn, so that was good, even if it was exhausting because I've neglected it for the past little while. But, other than that, I pretty much let the day burn away. I watched a bit of a movie here, a bit of "freaks and geeks" there, but otherwise, just let the hours wash away. I'm mixing metaphors, with the washing and the fire, but, meh.

It's raining pretty heavily right now..I like to imagine I'm writing a great detective novel with my hands on the keyboard, all I can hear is my fingers typing and the subdued thunder from outside. I don't have any music playing, even though I have a lot to choose from, it being sunday night and all, the best night for radio in the city. But, nothing, just me and my thoughts here for now.

Mark's 21st birthday was today, and I asked him if it felt any different to be 21. He flat out said "nope" without even a hesitation. I have to agree with him. Do I feel like I should be 21 right now? I doubt it..I don't feel 20, let alone 21. What is 21 supposed to feel like, any how? Should I instantly gain more maturity, common sense, or some sort of life-altering perspective? I hope not, because if that's mandatory with the age change, I think I might've missed it. Granted, I do feel different than I was when I was, say, 19 or 18, but I don't think that comes with the passing of years, just the passing of events and moments in time. I think I contradicted myself there, but oh well. My parents asked if i had definitive moving plans for the fall, to which i replied, "uhm, i guess..i'll need help." That threw me into thinking if I'm ready to live on my own..I think I am. At 21, it seems like something that a 21 year old would be doing. I know I am. But, the moving tangent aside, I just don't feel like I'm approaching anything significant. I feel stuck, in a way, not within in my age. Or what my age means, or what have you. Eek, this didn't turn out at all what I planned to talk about, which was how burning a day away isn't all that bad necessarily, but I guess the feeling of not doing anything just melded with the age thing. I guess I don't feel I have done enough for how old I am, accomplished enough, seen enough, etc.

I'm getting a bit sleepy..I don't think I'll turn any music on to fall asleep too, though, I'll just listen to outside.

"MTV Makes Me Wanna Smoke Crack.."

Hey, Beck said it, not me. But, it's unfortunately true..I think my brain can no longer suffer thier relentless editing and post-ironic tendencies. I tried to watch the movie awards tonight for a bit, but i couldn't make it all the way through. I love Ben Stiller/Owen Wilson/Will Ferrel/Vince Vaughan and thier crew to death, but the relentless jumping, pop-culture orgy was just too much towards the half-way mark. Whew, it was overwhelming.

Yes, so that was that hour tonight. I'm afraid this post is going to be very scatter-brained, all-over-the-place and such. I'm not sure why, but here we are. I wanted to do a first official "Barry link-o-rama" post where I point everyone out there to these cool web sites/articles/trailers I've been hooked on for the past little bit, but I lost the energy somewhere along tonight to do so, but hopefully there will be a couple at the end of this post that I think are worth ch-ch-checking out (beatie boys in my head...good new album, that is), so stay tuned until the end credits..

Listening to the Von Bondies mixed with the Boys who are Beastie right now, good diverse mix. I don't know why I mentioned that, it's not anything really terribly interesting, but there it is all the same. I was feeling in a sort of "i want to watch a stupid, enjoyable fluffy movie" tonight, so I went out on a limb and rented "Eurotrip". I know, I know...but, i don't know if it was just my amiable state to be entertained or whatever, but I generally liked it. It was stupid, crude, and totally unbelievable (oh, and gratuitous), but also very fun and enjoyable. A nice movie vacation, and in the end somewhat smarter than it had any right to be. Plus, anything with Fred Armisen gets automatic points.

I thought I had more to say, but I just ran into a brick wall (well, metaphorically, thankfully...my hand/arm doesn't need any more damage than it already got this week...incidentally speaking, band-aids are annoying, especially when trying to eat a sandwich), so whatever I may have wanted to say will have to hold off for the moment, but, just for the moment. Another moment will come along, soon, I hope.

Ah, but here's the links, though...if you like funny-ness, then for the love of all that is good, click on the "Anchorman" trailer...please?


- "Anchorman" trailer, and how the legend of Ron Burgandy will live on forever

- Seinfeld and Superman (aka Puddy!) in another adventure

I could've sworn I had more, but they've disappeared for now...

Ouch

I fell today. Not a metaphoric fall, either, an actual, physical, scrap your knees and bleed a bit fall. I was riding home from another day at work, with my free starbucks something or other hebal lemonade contraption in one hand (thanks to the sibling unit), and my mind just freely associating with the brutally humid weather engulfing me. Note, the one hand controlling the lemonade, thus, leaving only one other hand to concentrate on the bike. This was my first mistake. My second was taking a far too narrow curve into the entrance near the townhouses, and my third was not noticing the car coming into the scene from the corner of my eye. (Though, the third was technically not my fault, as it took a mad turn at an impossible angle, and was going far too fast for that street).

Put all the elements together, and it just happened. I tried to turn the bike around, brake, and make sure my drink was in one hand all at the same time, and it resulted in the bike simply flipping over to the side and me very nicely wiping out. (Did i also mention this was on a particularly rough slope I was going down? A slope made of bricks?). Essentially, the damage was one spilled drink, one cut left hand, and one right arm scraped all along the ends, but nothing too severe. My biggest worry at the time, which sounds so sad but it's true, was if my cell phone (which was in my pocket) was damaged. I think I even instinctively shifted my body weight to fall to the left side of my body (the cell was in my right pocket) to avoid its damage. Yep, I sacrificed myself for machinery. Not my proudest moment. But, all was well with the cell. (ha, random rhyming is fun). The driver of the rogue minivan was also kind enough to stop to see if I was okay, and I shooed him on his way once I got walking and wiped the gravel and dirt from myself. It's all okay now, stings a bit though (and i've always hated wearing band-aids), but I've definitely learned a lesson: drinking and biking is not cool, even if the refreshment is (Also, uhm, be cool, stay in school, why not?).

Proust Questionnaire

These things are always in the back of the Vanity Fair magazines, and if it's good enough for Mort Sahl and James Caan, why not? Let's give it a whirl..

What is Your Greatest Fear? Lonliness. And spiders. Vampires come in there too.
Which Historical Figure Do You Most Identify With? Wow, this is tough. Uhm...maybe Jim Garrison.
Which living person do you most admire? Not a singular person, but all my close friends.
What is the trait you most deplore in others? Pretentiousness.
What is your greatest extravagance? DVDs and books.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Empathy.
On what occassion do you lie? I try to never lie, but on occassion i lie to myself.
What is your greatest regret? Too many to count.
What is the greatest love of your life? I'm not sure yet, ask me again in a couple years.
When and where were you happiest? Deep in conversation and holding someone tight.
Which talent would you most like to have? If it's a genuine, real talent, then to be able to write non-stop, consistently, and confidently. If we're talking other-worldly talent, then the ability to teleport.
What is your current state of mind? Detached.
If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be? Thier habit of often being stubborn.
What is your most treasured possession? A number of things that were never bought in a store.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Being alone and not being able to talk to anyone about feeling that way.
Where would you like to live? Somewhere with a breeze, a view, and a natural body of water of some sort within walking distance...five-steps walking distance.
What is your favorite occupation? Full-time writer/traveller.
What is your most marked characteristic? My humor, maybe? Or my sarcasm, or my neuroticisms.
Who are your favorite writers? Michael Chabon, Chuck Klosterman, James Ellroy, Chuck Palahniuk, David Mamet.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction? Tyler Durden.
Who are your heroes in real life? John F. Kennedy, Oliver Stone.
How would you like to die? While holding the person I love tightly, listening to some good music or having a good conversation or saying nothing at all because there's no need to, maybe sipping a cool glass of wine, and watching the sun rise in the other person's eyes.
What is your motto? Sic transit gloria.

Mix Tape

For the past couple days I've dug out my old mix tapes (re: tapes, not cds), and been popping them in the stereo or car. I haven't listened to them in several years, i think, and i must have made over 10 or 15 of them for myself when I had enough motivation to go through the process of dubbing, pausing, playing, even writing down the title and artist on a little card that came with the cassette, purely for my own information.

It brought back so many memories, singing along to the forgotten lyrics and lost rhythms. Did I really like Beck that much? I guess I did. But, I forgot exactly what kind of person I was back then. Was I that different? I don't know, but i think i was. I think i still retain some of that person, a lot of it, maybe I'm not a different person. That's not what I'm trying to say, not the word I'm looking for. But, instead, maybe I've changed a bit. Me, who is still the same person, has changed a bit. For the better? I don't know, I'd like to think so. I think so.

But, changed nontheless. What was I thinking about when I recorded that Harvey Danger song on? Probably nothing but "wow, this is an addictive song, this band is going to go to the top" (my prophecies were never correct), but in between the dubbing of the song, what was going on through my head? It couldn't be what's going on now, that's for sure. My biggest problem back then, I think, was if I could go out Friday night with the car, or if I was working that night at the theatre (in the mall, yet), or the essay or independent study project i must've been working on at the time. Or what everyone was doing that weekend. So much has changed since I made that mix tape. Does the answer lay in the mix list? As a sample, here's some artists that made my very second (my first is missing, i can't find it!) mix tape: Beastie Boys, 311, Everclear, I Mother Earth (sans Edwin, yet), Live, David Bowie, Beck (3 times!), Blues Traveller, etc. So, i dunno, i don't think there are any concrete clues there. I mean, now that I think about it, it's kind of pointless to look and try to discover riddles hidden in the mix tapes. I know what has happened since then, I know everything i have been through and experienced, and maybe it's me just wanting to find something else to explain how I'm feeling lately; lost in a sense, detached, confused, over-thought. I know one thing for sure, though, I wouldn't give up everything that has happened to me for a million mix tapes. Good or bad, that's the ultimate mix tape, ugh what a cliche now that i read that over, but, meh (Cliches are all I got sometimes).. It's all over the place, and you can never record over it, not even if you tried.

Something Borrowed...(Blanks-Replaced Version Edit)

I really like these sort of things..and since I'm on a posting fix lately..

I am not entirely sure of myself
I think way too much about far too many things
I know that I am neurotic, but am unable to really do anything about it
I want to know what is coming before it does, but who doesn't
I have lots of wonderful friends in my life
I wish that everything could always be perfect
I hate when I mess things up needlessly for myself
I miss so much
I fear the future..not in the sci-fi sense, but just in general what life holds for me
I hear lots, but i have problems listening sometimes
I wonder what would happen if ______ (everything went according to plan) all the time
I regret regretting things...even though i do it, again, far too much
I love that special feeling
I ache when I want to talk but I can't
I care so much sometimes it hurts
I always try to be there
I am not too cool for school
I dance all the time, especially to "Hey Ya!"
I sing in the shower..and badly, according to my brother who evidently can hear me from his room.
I cry when I over-think too much. And when I under-think too.
I do not yearn for a low-carb sandwich.
I fight only in the movies, because I'm not good with confrontation.
I write not nearly as much as I should.
I win all the time. Or, uhm, never. It depends on your perspective.
I lose at many games, especially "Risk".
I confuse myself all the time.
I listen to Dave Matthews Band, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Weezer, Paul Simon, Neil Young, White Stripes, Rage, Beck, Story of the Year, Rolling Stones, Taking Back Sunday, Blur, Dylan, The Dead, Everclear, Dashboard Confessional, Thursday, Coldplay, Modest Mouse, Incubus, Franz Ferdinand, Billy Talent, The Who, The Guess Who, Led Zeppelin, Ozma, Foo Fighters, and so much more.
I can touch my tongue to my nose.
I need __________ (to travel).
I am happy about so much.
I should stop worrying. (and learn to love the bomb, while I'm at it)

Racing So Fast, It's Invisible

My heart is racing, pounding, on the verge of collapse. This is what I get for trying to go for an over-extended bike ride and not once stop or slow down for anything. Traffic light? Turn the corner or go backwards. Pedestrian? Go around and hope for the best. Not to say it wasn't rewarding and fun, it was. I enjoyed it a lot. But, the object of the ride, to let my mind basically take off and enjoy whatever is around me, got lost in the haze of just going going going. And not stopping. For anything.

My heart eventually won out over my mind's initial plans (there's a joke in there somewhere, i think), and kept on pounding, bouncing, racing to the finish line that was never set in stone. The sky was darkening, the clouds were forming, and I didn't care. I just kept going. I kept speeding along until I noticed one of my tires needed some air, which led me to the local gas station to fill up. Not too much interesting there, so let's just skip it. But, afterwards, on I went, my heart's pulse back from its layover. Pounding, racing, beating so loud I couldn't hear anything else. Not even my mind's own thoughts, which was the entire point of the trip, wasn't it? Maybe. I'm not sure.

To Do

On my most-awesome "Simpsons"-quote board I have one thing written on a yellow sheet of paper, held together by some very awesome and colourful magnets: "Summer". I meant to have a to-do list up there, and for a bit during the school year, I did. Things like "write history essay", or "go to the gym" (okay, that last one was never up there).

Right now, I have all the things I was supposed to do behind that other sheet, crossed off and striken through. "Summer". I guess this means I have nothing technically that must be done. Which, is a total and utter lie. I have clothes with paint on them sitting on my floor from way too long ago. I have my notebook from the last "Yoink!" meeting scattered somewhere. I have countless magazines laying around the desk, all done or half-read, waiting for eventual storage. I have this idea I want to write down and keep on writing down. I have this scholarship form thing sitting on my desk, waiting to be filled out. I have two-three books waiting to be read or finished. I have a cell phone bill to pay and change to roll. I have dvds to watch and music to listen to and letters to write and things to organize.

Yet, I haven't really done a single one of those things. I'm stationary. I wish I had the energy/motivation to do some of those things, any of those things, but really, I'd rather not right now. I'd rather sit here, typing here, listening to Incubus wailing away about "talk shows on mute". I'd rather be here, doing nothing imparticular with no plans for the rest of the evening, and see where it takes me. I'm betting probably right back here, but that's okay with me. Sometimes I wonder if this is what awaits me in the big large world. Am I destined to do what I'm doing right now, forever? I don't really believe in destiny, I take the Neo approach to it (minus the vacant look and the "whoa"), but still. What's out there? Is anything on my imaginary to-do list there? It fascinates and scares the hell out of me at the same time. Only one way to find out.

Tell Us A Story

Listening to music, trying to let the words flow out of my mouth and onto this sheet of cyber paper. I got that frozen feeling again at work today. Like i was shifting in and out of perspectives. I had such a weird dream last night, it was bizarre. But so terrifying. I swear I wanted to wake up so badly, but for the life of me, I can't remember specifics. I think I was trying to go over them in my mind when I got that frozen feeling at work. I was stacking something, surprise, but I just stared straight ahead. Like nothing was fazing me. Except that lingering thought of the dream.

I was so tired when I got home...my bed looked so comfortable. But, I didn't want to completely lay down and fall asleep. I always feel like shit when i take naps, I'm not sure why, but i get irritable and icky feeling, if there's any other way to describe it. Feels like I missed something important and I'm going to be paying for it the next few hours.

I had to walk in the rain a bit today, after work, but it wasn't that bad. It's an odd feeling, getting covered in rain. It soaks you, sticks to you, won't let go. It makes you shiver, but also makes you smile, because it's this strange feeling of the weather touching you. It's weird, i know, but an interesting feeling that can't be duplicated.

"Find Me and Follow Me, Through Corridors and Factories...Find Me In The Dark of the Matinee"

Trying to listen to the new Franz Ferdinand album..it's damn good. But, for some reason I can't get through it right now. Just not in the right frame of music mind. I'm searching for somehting else..I briefly considered Radiohead, maybe some Juliana Theory. But, for the moment I'm stuck.

I've been wanting to write so much lately in here...of course, my plan earlier to write some good fiction again went bust tonight. I blame the "Clerks" cartoon. In a weird way, it works.

I've also noticed I have a very short attention span of late. I've been watching too many movies only half-way through. I have half of the following to still watch, all piling up on my desk: "Spirited Away", Andy Lau in "Running Out Of Time", "My Wife Is A Gangster", "Infernal Affairs 3", "Bubba Ho-Tep"...and I won't even mention the innumerable movies I've bought but have yet even to crack open. I'm not quite sure, I just can't concentrate on one thing. It's annoying, frustrating, all of that. But, right now I can't.