My Dad Loves Hydro

This post is in homage to my father the Hydro monger.
As you can see from the above photo he has learned how to master the art of effectively getting those generating turbines to move just a little faster. We were talking about the disk on his meter and he was going on about how it was really zooming around faster that he had ever seen one move. The greatest thing about all of this is that he even did the back of his house, and the garages, and the trees and flower beds in the back yard.

"It takes me two days to put them up and one day to take them down."

Every year he does this but I think that so far this year is the best. Some people think that it isn't a very environmentally friendly thing to do, but I say screw them. If my father wants to put up a thousand lights on the front and back of his house and mark his spot on the globe for a few weeks let him live it up. Burn'em Ken, Burn'em fuck'en lights until your neigbours can't sleep at night!

The Sky was Grey.

Ok. So here it is - the final full story as promised.

When they came for me I was in the back yard digging potatoes. My hands were numb from thumbing off the cold wet mud before putting each one into the bushel basket my father had left for me. A subconscious silence matched the acreage that outstretched around me and dampness seeped up my legs as I stood on the open earth. The last of the insects were ticking weakly in the broken fall grass that surrounded the garden. I turned to look at the lake on the horizon and a cool wall of air woke up the tip of my nose, making it run just enough to warrant a smudge of grit from the back of my hand.

With three days into the crop and over two more to go, I dug listlessly and sometimes speared large healthy potatoes with my fork. Tossing them into the dead grass alleviated my careless practice and hid my betrayal of conscientious labour. I was smitten with self-pity and saw no purpose in my father’s evangelism of industrious task making. There was nothing I hated more than digging potatoes and when they came it seemed like I was waiting for them. They were the perfect distraction to break the bonds of my deed.

They came for me from behind and I had little time to respond to their showing. The silence of the day was resonating in my head and at once I sensed a crowd at my back. With my jaw set at the sight of them, I dropped the potato fork at my feet feeling it hit the steel-toe cap of my boot. My consciousness opened up into the landscape and my posture swayed as I tried to adjust to the change within me. A lid had been removed from the top of my head and I was completely open. They encircled me and we moved as a mass into the grass of the field. Their close proximity helped me to retain my balance well enough to stagger weakly with them down the hillside. I was touching the belly of a god and drawing upon its power. We marched foolishly in circles as I adapted to my new insight. The power was engorging and I was dying as we walked. God was real, he was coming at me from over the horizon.

Their hands brushed over me with reassurance and my excitement contradicted their calmness. Each one was a copy of the other, small steel-grey figures with featureless faces. Marionette-like gestures flowed; their differences in motion were the only distinguishing traits. Electricity filled the air as the lake grew closer and I realized my feet had ceased to touch the ground. There was a plate of invisible grease that I slid upon. Coasting over the black lake, a good wind cut into my face and worked at my hair. They stood on the water’s surface and it yielded to their mass like that of a mattress.

Slowing and directed we stopped in what seemed to be the middle of the lake. This was my death, there was no other explanation. I feared they would let go of me and I would sink into the void. Watching them I gently placed my hands on their smooth heads. They were like children encircling a street performer. Each one felt different and emotions glinted inside me as I explored the changes as my hands moved over them. I was connected to the sky and what seemed to be the universe. My mind was the largest thing. Did this state last for an eternity or was it just a flash? The only way to measure time was by change.

A dark colour moved above me and grew wide and elliptical. The shape fixed itself into a randomness that could only be described as a million different ovals. It lowered over me and the air changed temperature. I was being encased in an orb that ascended and dissolved the figures that had delivered me. A small disk of water was captured within the capsule as it closed below my feet and the orb rose high enough into the atmosphere to look the same size as the planet I had just left. It was the image we have all seen a thousand times. The planet we live on and contemplate. A visual cliché that looked glorified in reality.

A brain aneurism. Heart failure. I had died and my father would find me lying on my back in the turned open earth. His sorrow would haunt him for the rest of his life, guilty for making me do his petty jobs. The orb started to cloud until it became completely opaque. The walls thickened and began to close in on me. Its surface grew quickly inwards until I was completely immobilized in it. The substance filled my nostrils and mouth, descended into my throat and expanded in the pit of my gut. Suspending me weightlessness, it seeped between my clothes and snaked itself up my anus and urethra. It invaded every part of me until I felt I was the orb itself. There was only the motion of thought, blood, and heart. The blood kept its own force and the heart held me alive. I tried to count the heartbeats to measure time. In vain I continuously lost my place until the sessions of counting became nothing more than a rhythm itself. There was only my brain and for a few seconds I thought I could feel it, and the snake of my spinal cord running through me. My mind weakened, there was an end to the journey of death and I had reached it.

I awoke and through the dimness, looked at myself. They had me opened up and spread apart like a tapestry. They stood before me. I was their work of art enduring contemplation. A perception of hell and all conceivable suffering was mine and my mind wretched at the thought of what was to become of me. It seemed almost human in its structure this scene of unfathomable horror and I wondered if my assembly of reality was sure-footed. Now instead of death I contemplated insanity and the conjecture of the devil and his possible partnership in all of this.

They were all around me, with large black eyes. They were ones you have all seen. The ones people draw. The ones on television. They moved and acted upon my anatomy with casual mechanics, like one might clean a fish and I wondered how often they had done this before. There was no pain, only the knowledge of my own devastation. I was being dismantled and catalogued. Parts of me were at other stations attracting the separate attentions of different looking creatures that do not clearly accommodate description. They didn’t have any characteristics and were constantly in flux of appearance.

A laugh of disillusionment blurted out of me and I heard it outside of my head. This brought me to a state of higher consciousness and I noticed that my company responded to my vocal outbreak.

“What the fuck are you doing to me you fucking monsters?”

One of them came closer to me with what looked like a lit wand. It had the appearance of being cheap and purposeless. The large appendage that the creature held it in was not properly evolved to its ergonomics. As the thing grew intimate I saw its skin writhing like a mass of decaying carrion. Its surface mirrored that of being separately alive, like each one of them was their own ecosystem or universe. It was either this or they were a collective of organisms working together to form one. The wand was moved in what seemed like a vaudeville charade and my mind connected with its bearer. There was heat in the core of my scull and I wondered if my brain was cooking from the inside, but then there were words that I understood but did not control.

You are of great purpose.

You are of the few that have the gateway.

We are opening this gateway … you will be one with us.

I blinked a few times and looked into the mask that had given me the words. Did it move in subtle ways to suggest personality? For a few seconds things processed between me and the wand bearer. There were no more words but calmness started to fall from the background of my thinking and grew over me.

You are of great purpose.

You will be larger than this universe.

You will know what it is to be without ignorance.

The thing seemed to be endearing, but there were parts of me scattered around what looked like some sort of laboratory and I was sure there was no way anything could ever put me back together. My head was the only thing not unwrapped and my blood was emptied out below me. There was no pulse and my heart, or what I guessed to be my heart was being eaten by a few of the red ones standing at a station half lit in the background. They were the only ones with mouths and they resembled something amphibious, with root like gills feathering out of their sides and down over their lower appendages forming an ornate skirt.

After the wand I could hear things better and the amphibians were gurgling to each other. The thing with the wand pulled me back to it and as it pressed itself into my mind I looked back and saw a difference in its appearance. It had split itself open and seemed to be shedding or was the organic surface separating from this being and making another? The being shuddered a few times and its outer skin jumped from its core and began to reshape itself on the floor beside the wand-holder.

Behold I am two.

I will travel with you back to your world and into eternity.

The eternity of change.

The mass on the floor crept into a long thin shape and held itself up and into my face. With the style of a serpent it turned and collided into the middle of my forehead. It felt like there was a river running through my head and I found myself choking on what was the wand-holders skin. It was drowning in my outstretched anatomy and pulled everything backwards into itself. My eyes saw only a light of red and then at once I felt the cold damp earth of the field. The grey sky held itself above me and the insects ticked in the dead grass that surrounded the open earth of the garden. I blinked a few times, got myself to my feet and held my hands out in front of me. I was intact but there was still a large charge of electricity in the air and for a few seconds I couldn’t think of anything.

A few minutes passed and I found myself in a different way. I was not the person that held the place I was prior. My wrists contained thin root-purple vessels that webbed out into the palms of my hands and around my fingers. My arms felt as solid as steel and as I turned my scull onto a slight angle and pressed my eyes closed I saw the universe and everything that was. I knew that my touch could turn anything inside out. I picked up the potato fork and passed my hand through its mass. First the wooden handle and then through the cold steel tines that finished its construction.

I am here. I am with you.

We are together and there is a new gateway for us to commence.

We can begin and end when you decide.

I am here. I am with you.

I smiled and saw my mother in the kitchen window. She was still wearing her nightgown and it was three in the afternoon. I looked into her mind and brought her into me. Her body dropped out of sight and I knew it was dead but it didn’t matter. I was a god now.

I threw the fork down and called out to the thing inside me. Turning back towards the lake I told him in my mind that I was ready.

I am here. I am with you.

Reaching down and picking up a large potato, I took a step forward off of the open earth and walked into the core of the universe.

Lets talk about prison.

On Sunday I stood outside of the Central East Correctional Center in Lindsay, Ontario Canada. It has 1,184 beds (so they say), I guess they regard it as some sort of sleeping facility. There is a 16 foot fence topped with 300 meters of what they call razor ribbon. Razor ribbon has a nice ring to it don't you think? "OH honey you wrapped my gift with razor ribbon how thoughtful!" They claim to have 21 separate security systems and more structural steel than the CN tower.

As I stood outside the facility and took these crappy photos security cameras moved in unison with me and took a few minutes to record the registration plate on my father's truck. I watched a family going inside as the wind stung my face. There was an odd silence and all I wanted to do was to follow them inside and ask them a few questions about who they were going to visit. I wondered what kind of mistakes the residents had made. How may of them were sitting in there thinking about how easy it was to make a mistake, and how many residents were sitting in there wishing they could get out and do what they did to get in there in the first place again.

Prison is such a strange concept. Take people that do bad things, put them all together, give them food, shelter, recreation, education, and discipline. Rehabilitation is the proposed outcome.
A giant hospital for the criminally ill. If only I could experience the atmosphere, taste the food, feel the camaraderie, create social bonds, interact with the fated. Why do I have such perverse curiosities? I stand there in the cold and feel like an outsider. Looking in on a club that I will never belong to. In a sense almost another complete society.

What do the lifers hold as aspiration? What do they think of when they see ten years next? Do they measure time or just stay in the moment each and every day? What is it like to have everything provided for you? I guess it as being all very totalitarian. Living in the realm of George Orwell's 1984. This is the only real metaphor that I can find to experiment with relating to prison life. I find it all very fascinating, except the idea of living in fear of your peers and never knowing when or how someone around you might go off. But the romantic side of the prison concept is interesting and I wonder what effects it would have on a person. What would it do to me if I had to spend a month inside and knew no harm would come to me? To just live inside under the law, eat the food, do the work, breathe the air, and meet the people on the inside. To feel what they emanate. Collecting the experience of their company - even if it was in silence.

Blogwise.com

I got an email today telling me that a dissertation of social-dissention was now registered at blogwise.com. They keep a record of the most recently posted blogs and review blogs as well. It is a blog directory of sorts. I guess you could say that small things make my day but it made me very happy to know that I was getting picked up by this service - whether one of my avid fans recommended me or they found me on my own - it sure did make me tickle in the right spots.
So go ahead and check it out if you like - but please just remember to come back here too.
www.blogwise.com

So the date - yeah, it's December 16 2005. This doesn't mean too much to me lately. Other things have been on my mind besides dates and days of the week. There are no jobs now and most likely there won't be any until February. Good thing I have that pot of gold I found at the end of the rainbow. Thank God I believe in leprechauns.
It's what people call the holiday season - some people call it that anyways, but I beg to differ - you see my life is the holiday season. At least temporarily. But I don't want to get all seasonal, it's so boring really.

The cycle of everything always repeating can really get on a person's nerves. Why is it the human race has to make everything into a routine?

Isn't it enough that on a day to day basis we have to go through mundane routines? Why does every single event have to be planned out and calculated on an annual schedule? Just because this stupid planet spins in some sort of cycle - does that mean we all need to follow one?

Yeah, yeah who cares right? Shut up your mouth and just go with the flow. Fall into place and fit yourself into the lineup. Maybe I just have too much time on my hands lately. No. Wait a minute. That's not it at all. We are all just a bunch of bucking retardts.

We are no different then my cats. If you change one aspect of my cats' routines they have a logic meltdown and refuse to accept their condition as altered. If I feed them according to plan everything is harmonious - but if things change and they get fed early they refuse to accept the anomaly in routine and demand to be re-fed regardless of how full their dish is. They will stand right in front of the full dish and demand it because of the routine they have relied on.

Are we the same way? I don't think so. I think that the concept of routine in human schedule is enforced primarily through consumerism. Don't worry I won't go on about it any more - I got go - It's lunch time.

What the hell is this?

Close up....









I was going through my photos looking for something to blogg about when I came across this image - I must have overlooked it and not noticed what was going on. Weird that this photo would show up now - after me posting that rough story excerpt. I took the photo to Henry's and asked them if it could be a problem with my camera and they said that my digital was fine. It really creeps me out to have found this - it almost makes me want to stop writing about abduction. Could it be a message from God? Is he telling me to be careful or am I just insane?

The close up doesn't show anything but I wanted you to see it for yourself.

To be honest I just don't understand this. My first reaction is to downplay it as a fluke coincidence but who knows. It's giving me nightmares. Last night I had a dream that I was sucked out of the sky and cut wide open - then dropped back onto a field like garbage.

This is the first part of a rough draft I am working on for a submission to Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine - it is still rough and unfinnished but its all i have for you today - sorry I am not in the mood to post more but at least this is a little different - I will republish the complete story in a few days.
When they came for me I was in the back yard digging potatoes. My hands were dirty-numb from thumbing off the wet cold mud before I put each one into the bushel basket my father had left for me. It was a grey sky. My subconscious silence matched the flat acreage that stretched out before me. Dampness seeped through my hands and up my arms as I stood on the open earth. The last of the insects ticked weakly in the broken fall grass that surrounded the garden. The grass stretched out down the hill and through the fields and rail fences to a distant lake that defined the horizon. Cool air seeped silently up the hill towards me and awoke the tip of my nose; making it run just enough to warrant a smudge of grit from the back of my hand.

I was three days into the crop, and had more than two to go. I dug listlessly spearing large healthy white potatoes with my fork and guiltlessly tossing the damaged ones into the grass unseen. With contempt of responsibility and purpose; I yearned for my time to be my own, if only to waste it away. I was smitten with selfish pity and could see no value in my father's plea of purposeful task making.

I had been waiting for them. They were the perfect distraction to unchain me from the prison of my deed. They came for me from behind and I had little time to respond to their showing. The silence of the day resonated inside my head and I sensed the crowd at my back. My jaw set at the sight of them and I dropped my potato fork at my feet, feeling it hit the steel toe cap of my boot. They touched my mind quickly and it expanded to a size more vast than any concept. My consciousness opened up into the landscape and my posture swayed as I tried to adjust to the change within me. They encircled me and we moved as a mass into the dry dead grass of the field. Their close proximity helped me to compose my balance enough to stagger weakly with them down the hillside.

An instant of their time defined an eternity of what I had known. I was touching the belly of a God and drawing upon its power. We marched foolishly in the broken grass as I adapted to my new insight. Drinking in the power; I was dying as we walked. God was real; I could see him coming at me over the horizon from the lake. Their hands brushed over me reassuringly. My excitement fought with the calmness they exuded.

Laying in a Winter Wonderland

I took this photo at a cemetary and I just can't get over how festive it looks. Doesn't it just look like the holiday season? Speaking primarily to all of you conservative Christians out there - the ones that apparently used to get thrown to the lions. Yes well you see I'm not really much of a Christian any more - frankly I don't really know what I am - but don't worry, or get out your literature - I am quite content just sitting on the fence for a few more years until my insecurities over death start to heighten and then maybe I will jump off and head in some direction.

Yes Christmas doesn't mean too, too much to me and I constantly seem to end up thinking about non-Christian kids and how they cope with all of this. It terrifies me to think that they have to be subjected to all of this much ado about nothing and then not even get any greed fulfilling materialistic rewards for putting up with all of the songs, cell phone ads and stupid fucking expectations, and false aspirations. How do the non-Christian families rationalize not partaking in such hardcore consumeristic obsession? Just being a kid makes you the easiest target on the consumer firing squad and then this stupid holiday shows up every year that condones and enforces all of your consumer lust. Shit man if I was a non-Christian kid I would most likely be begging my parents to convert and to get the spending started.

Yes the photo seems so tranquil. I thought about making it into a Christmas card, as you can tell I am not too too high on the "Christmas Spirit". My wife would never let me send out a card that depicted a funeral plot and then said Merry Christmas in it. Come to think of it, I doubt it would go over very well. But man do I feel for those non-Christian kids. Even if they say they don't care, you know they must. How could any kid not want to get more shit on one day for free once a year? Who cares what we believe in just bring on the free shit!

Kitchen Sink Damas Part 1

Sometimes when I am in the grocery store I get vertigo.
No I don't have a balance disorder nor do I have labyrinthitis.
But sometimes the floor turns into warm taffy and tilts sideways. Things change colour and it feels like the shevles are closing in on me. I am sure I will be cut in half by the steel monoliths covered in granola bar boxes and powdered milk. Who buys powdered milk anyways?

My steps seem huge and over exaggerated. I clench my hands around the poled handle of my grocery cart, the one with the waggity wheel. I do feel like a zombie on most shopping experiences - that is unless I am on a motivational surge of premeditated consumeristic lust. You know the kind. Your head starts to go all buzzy and that selfish throb of power emanates from deep inside you. We all get off on the purchasing, even if we won't admit it.

The grocery store is not really that kind of place for me. I spend most of my time looking in other people's cart and wondering what they are going to make with that or how they could eat the shit they are buying. Or watching the fish swim around oblivious to their own doom. Wow potato chips are on sale for three bags for five dollars. Pork hocks are a dollar a pound - just what I always wanted, a big old bin of pig feet.

In a way the grocery store is it's own community. It is a holding tank for people in limbo - a form of cell. A place that holds time in contempt and dazzles you with colour.
Personally I don't really understand them. In a way they are like a micro-example of the super mall - I guess that is why some genius coined the phrase supermarket.

My favorite is seeing people fighting with each other and kids begging for shit. The repressed dramas running underneath the Muzak, right beside a three hundred pound case of freshly slaughtered animals.

Maybe it is the graveyard aspect that makes people uneasy and fog-eyed. The hidden noises of bones getting sawed up in the back room. The five hundred dead or sterile egg embryos screaming for their chance in life. Who knows. Who knows, but something just isn't right.

I am the truth. I am the light. I am the way. I am the ... umm ...
Seek out Thee and Yea shal be saved. Seek out Thee and Yea shal be blessed. Seek out Thee and Yea shal be sanctified unto Thee. And some sort of other shit like that.

For the next few minutes I have decided to start my own religion. And what better way to start one than to have yourself as the god itself. That way you can be in charge of everything and no matter what happens you can't be blamed because everyone will just take it as "God's will". So If I change the rain to urine and piss down on all of my loyal followers they will just look up and say oh well it's God's will. Cool huh? What better way is there to absolve yourself of all of your actions, do all kinds of rotten things, and get worshipped for it.

Now, now, now, don't start in to thinking that I am all resentful of my own secret God and this is a way for me to get back at the ass hole for dicking me around all day long. That's not the drill here. I have just decided for the next few minutes that I am going to be my very own God.
Remember when you were a kid and you tore the legs off of insects and piled rocks slowly onto catapillars until they burst? You were playing the man! No shit! When you kicked your dog or punched your little sister in the shoulder until her arm hung uselessly at her side. When you broke your friend's toys because you didn't have them yourself? When you beat up a kid at recess because you knew you could take him?

Every single time we do something wrong or selfish or maniacal - we are God. I know so many Gods. There are so so many walking the face of the earth. Shit man who needs to go to church - god just cut me off on the freeway!

So verily, verily I say unto thee - Behold I am the truth.

A letter from the Lot.

This is a photo of my daughter Bobbie Lang. She is three years old and just loves to spend time with her dog Billy at the lot. Bobby loves to play in the rocks so we make sure that she keeps her life vest on at all times. In fact we let her wear it each and every day of her life because we want to make sure she won't drown.

Bobby likes to stand around and watch things and when I snapped this photo she was watching mommy skin and gut a muskrat on one of the nearby rocks. Mommy loves her new buck-knife and she was very excited when I snared a muskrat by the shore. She keeps the knife sheathed and strapped to her calf, just above her boot.
The water is pretty cold now and Bobby Lang still refuses to wear pants. But you know how kids are these days. We used to be able to keep the other ones dressed but they always managed to drown long before they reached Bobby's age.

Yeah these days Bobby doesn't stray too far from the fire and when we can, we try to keep her in the sod hut tucked back in the cedar grove nice and far from the lake. Billy the dog does a pretty good job of keeping the mice out, but he digs up too much dirt trying to get each and every last one. Between this and the times that Bobby secretly pees in there the floor can get pretty muddy.

The muskrat looks a lot smaller without its skin and insides and I am going to try and make a mitt out of the hide for Bobby. Once the snow flies she's going to need more than just a life jacket to keep her warm and safe. But if I have anything to do with it our daughter won't be allowed to run around outside this winter with just a life jacket on, even if I have to skin the dog.

So that's about it for now. The wife is giving me the evil eye, she doesn't understand me doing all of this writing. She says it scares her. She says a man is supposed to be living the simple life and not to be spending to much time in his own head. She says that's what makes animals crazy. That they are trapped inside their own head and can't talk. She says that's the difference between us and them.

Get your porno "NOW"

What's with the porno in the back of Now magazine? Have you seen it lately? For those who don't know Now magazine is a Toronto based - entertainment rag that comes out weekly. Yes it contains all forms of "entertainment" including prices. You can get oral action for the low, low price of forty bucks and that's delivered to your door - shit my last order of Chinese food cost me thirty five... There are hourly rates and lots of pictures with addresses too - you can even get some strap-on dildo training classes if you need to brush up on your harness racing skills. Yes it seems to all be here. Now, no pun intended, I know that these ads have been around for a long time - as long as I can remember - but they have become so product specific. It reads like a catalogue of fuck.
Good times for all those in the sex trades I guess - but what about the fifteen year old boys at home for the weekend with their parents away and sixty dollars burning a hole in their pockets? All I know is that if I had Now magazine when I was in highschool and it only cost forty bucks to get your joint copped I would be all over that action. It gives new meaning to the words takeout and delivery.

It is rumored that some males get addicted to the escort services. They fall in love with some of the women and live in a sort of fantasy state paying for dates until they run out of cash. Then they think that the girls are in love with them.

Anyways if you didn't know it already and you need to get your joint greased and would like to have it happen in the privacy of your own home for as little as two twenties - then now you know how to go about it.

Oh yeah and as for the comment givers...

I promise to not delete any more comments but you need to stop making them seem so botish and spamish in style your talents in the high art of web-trash linguistics have even me convinced you are all robotic and not two thirds water.

Ok - Ok - I'm sorry for the delay....

Well I am so sorry about not having posted for so long - it is really bad for blog-business because people will only check on you so often and if there hasn't been a change you're off the list so-to-speak. But I have a good excuse - I have been working on my portfolio for hours, and then days.... whew am I ever glad that is over. It was a real sock in the sack - I didn't shower for a week and there was a green felt like fungus growing on my balls. Kinda like a velveteen rabbit thing.

Above all of this you will have noticed an image of my hardcover novel. This is my impression of the cover design and it is pretty close to how it will look when done. The problem is there is no one to publish it yet. But it will give you all a good idea of how it will look.
I looks pretty shit hot to me - I would buy it that's for sure. So this whole book writing and publishing thing is getting pretty real - the manuscript should be done by the end of December - I am going to try and give out copies for Christmas. And then self-publish it in the spring and get an a agent.

I am also going to sell copies from my website - and there will soon be more about the book on this blogg - including weekly excerpts for you all to read... So keep checking things are just getting started around here.

The comments are surreal.

Wow - did any of you check out the comments on my post "There have been a few complaints"? Very surreal and very cloak and dagger - there are some that are spam but they are spam that makes no sense - Who are you people and what are you all about? I have got to know - I will pay with blood semen or cash - you decide - but I have to know. The comments always haunt me and I wonder if they are even better than the Blogg.
I think it is some sort of conspiracy - something is going on - people are watching me. My aunt thinks that strangers are monitoring us through cameras that are build into our televisions - Yes tee vee rots your brain like crack cocaine man. It is the age of paranoia. The Age of confusion and rampant masturbation. I am scared now - I have to go turn on a light.

Jesus Spotted Terrorizing Locals

Yes its true - the savior is back and he's pissed. No more fallacies about coming like a thief in the night - Jesus is running the streets and terrorizing our innocents! Stated Dalton McGinty yesterday.

He was reportedly seen throwing cars at the Zanzibar Nightclub last night around 6pm.
"It was a miracle no one was injured" one witness reported.

There have been a few reports of Jesus not having anything to say. One of our correspondents tried to get a statement from him but was crushed under Jesus' giant leather sandal. He died instantly at the scene. Jesus was last located at the harbourfront throwing parking ticket officers into the icy waters of Lake Ontario. Apparently he's pissed and very busy trying to clean up the city. One witness said that he heard Jesus growel and that he had ripped the roof off of a McDonald's and demanded they make him seventy-five Fillet-O-Fish.

"We don't know what he wants, but when we find out we'll give it to him. We're not even sure he is the real Jesus." David Miller, Mayor of Toronto told reporters.

Lets go shop for some fuck.

This blog may contain waxmeats. It may also cause your eyes to swell and leak green-yellow mucus. Please be advised that most grandmothers have acute multiple orgasms after reading this blog.

So Today is Friday and I have been working on a bunch of new creative for my portfolio. This is actually quite a bit of fun because I don't have some power tripping bucket head trying to tell me how to do things. Yes the freedom is inspiring and I think that it will be some of the best creative I will have done in a while.

Wow - It sure is great to be here today - no doom and gloom today. I think that the best part about today is knowing that I will NEVER have to be a part of certain processes again - don't you just hate the way you get stuck in some situations and have to interact with people so much lower on the evolutionary ladder than you are? I can remember feeling like I was sure I was talking to a big hairy ape - trying to make it understand English and so on. You know the ape grunts and after you spend an hour scratching its chin it still doesn't understand. All it wants to do is arch it's silver back and throw some shit at you. It can't see the benefit in your efforts because it is too intimidated - its thick scull just doesn't get it.

Some people just don't get me - know what I mean? They are plain and simply just too fucking stupid. Yes it is a fact - I can come right out and say it. I have earned it. I am smarter than the average ape out there - and the only thing that I can say is that I wish that everyone else was smarter than me because then I could learn something from everyone. Smart people are hard to come by and it sure is hard trying to learn things from idiots - especially when we fall prey to the commonness of being surrounded by them far too often. There are just more of them.

There have been a few complaints...

Yes, yes. There have been a few complaints about my blog - some people seem to think that it is a little on the dour side - not very optimistic or fun - maybe just a little too much fucking whining? So this entry is for all of those that feel maybe it is time for me to just cheer up a little. So - here it goes!

Well today is turning out to be another rainbow! I woke up and looked out into the world and saw flowers, unicorns, and fluffy clouds that were floating by. I smiled and scampered down stairs to get myself some Fruitloops and a glass of orange juice! Oh boy was it ever good. I ate two bowls and then turned on the radio and just danced with myself a little in the kitchen! I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest and gave little old me a big old hug!. Then I did a flower arrangement, put barrettes it my cats fur, made rum-balls, built Christmas ornaments out of egg cartons, called a few people up and forgave them for fucking me in the ass.

After that I taught myself how to do sign language in the mirror and read a few chapters of the New Testament. It's good to make sure you know Jesus is going to show up at any time, and I want be ready for him, don't you?

So what does the rest of the day hold for me? Well after I am finished this entry I am going to go downstairs and try one more time to perfect making Jiffy Pop Popcorn and then watch my favorite movie New York Minute starring the Olsen twins. Those crazy girls are just plain fun!!! See you all tomorrow and keep smiling!!

Love, Derek.

Yeah things keep on going. Cars keep driving and people keep walking. I wonder how many of us there are without any real solid destination. Sometimes I stand on a corner and watch everyone thrust themselves into action as the light turns green. I just stand there and let myself feel the sense of abandonment or feeling of falling behind. It's just a green traffic light right - so it doesn't mean that you have to go right away and keep in the race to nowhere. I have to get there. I have to get there. I know. I know. I sound like I am twenty years old and what is the meaning of all this and so on. But if you think about it there isn't one day that you could go to that conrer - the one in the photo (Yonge and Bloor)and not see something happening. In the course of at least three minutes something would happen - you would see someone either driving or walking or standing or doing something insignificant.

Yes. Things are still the same. The weather is changing and things are still the same. Wandering around Toronto like a lost dog can be fun. You never know where you are going to end up and people seem to be able to sense that you're lost. Or at least I think that they know it. Yes. I keep wondering how long this is going to go on for. This listless wandering of days. There are no true destinations and even if there were the arrived destination is erased by the next one. On and on we go - traveling inside ourselves looking out at everyone else wondering what it feels like to be inside their guts instead of our own. Bla bla bla, bla. Now I am making myself sick - which seems to be a trend lately. Are you ok? Is everything going to be ok?

I LOVE YOU PIP

If I could describe things today it would be like this photo.

The rain makes me feel more isolated and I can feel myself sinking deeper into the core of my own consciousness - This entry is going to be short because I am a little lost for words today. I feel like a windup toy walking into a wall. I keep walking but my feet just bump uselessly into the wall-face and I waste my last bit of windup energy in vain to get somewhere - but where am I going - huh? I am sure we all feel this way at different times of the day, year, life. This blog is starting to get a little repetitive - I will try to spice things up tomorrow I promise.

Things have been appearing out of the blue. Things that I can see on the edge of my peripheral vision. I catch it once in a while and jerk towards it to see if what I think I see is real. Most of the people I meet make me wonder about myself and why I seem so different - but then in some stupid ways so similar. Carol Shields once said something that I found interesting - she said that it was hard to be human because you never got a day off - you always had to be at it. I think that pretty well sums it up. Maybe Halloween is an excuse to let your humanism fall astray for a few hours - but I didn't come here to write about Halloween and I am sure you didn't come hear to read about it - what am I saying - your not even here. It's just me and that is the way it is going to be.
So yeah things are always standing on the verge of something - there is that feeling of balancing on a cliff edge or that few seconds when you are trying to get back on a ladder to get down off of a roof - that seems to be where I hang out lately. I live in the moments just before the car accident - when you know it is going to happen and you just have to sit there and watch it. At least it makes things interesting. At least I know I am alive. It beats the hell out of hanging around in limbo all day wondering if your life will ever change.

Things are not what they seem.

This picture was taken by me - it is the outside of the opera house in Paris France. Paris seems to be on my mind a great deal lately. I wish I was there right now. Maybe it is because a year ago I was.


So last night I am riding on the subway home from my novel writing class at the University of Toronto. I am reading a book called Ladykiller (a book of short stories written by this woman that lives in BC - her name is Charlotte Gill - she is a Governors General Nominee - if that means anything to you (the book is good) Sorry I digress... I look up from my book and see a tall teenaged boy standing stately at the subway door stiffly balancing with the movement of the train. I look into his eyes and I realize that he is completely tuned on some sort of narcotic. I smile inside myself and think "Wow that kid is seriously fucked up - he must be having a good time." Observation made I go back to my Charlotte Gill (some story about a guy and a girl getting into a car accident with a load of BC weed in the back of their truck).

Then a few minutes later I hear a loud clunk and look up to discover the teenager has fallen flat on his face and is laying there unconscious with his arms at his sides and face straight down into the floor of the train.

I blink a few times to make sure I am not hallucinating and see for sure that all of this is real. I don't get up but I look at the teenagers mouth to see if he is foaming or frothing. He is not moving - he is frozen stiff like a lambshank. I stare fascinated and another passenger gets up and starts to pull on him. I think it is a bad idea but the kid wakes up and slowly gets to his feet like nothing happened. He says he is really tired and I get up and insist that he sits down instead of standing. People move out of his way and we all look at him. I can't seem to get back into reading my Charlotte Gill because things are just too interesting around me. Nothing else happens and until my stop the kid hangs his head and looks at the floor. I don't know if he is embarrassed or sick. I wonder what he is thinking. I decide he is most likely still way too stoned. On my way out I speak to him. I have been trying to decide what short sentence I could say that would help him the most.

I get up and lean over to him:
"When you get off of this train get yourself a bottle of water or some juice ok?"
The kid looks up at me and I know he thinks it is a good idea. An idea that he needed to maybe keep him moving. He smiles and says "Yeah, ok, thanks - thanks a lot."

I leave the train and return to my normal life again.

I wonder if the kid made it home or if he died on the train.

Yeah - well another day in paradise. The calendar keeps on chuggin and who knows what the fuck's around the corner. And so on, as Vonnegut says. The hatred is flaring good today for some reason - I guess it was just time for a little bit 'o big old hate to show up in my scull today - I have this strong desire to post a complete list of a few of the people I hate but they most likely wouldn't appreciate it and it sucks that even if you hate people you have to respect there feelings because you could get arrested or like sued and stuff. So like another thing about today is like I just wanna sound like a teenager for some reason. So like get off my back ok. Raw! The coffee is rotting my guts and it tastes like liquid metal in my mouth. No. No real news about anything - just more feelings - I am struggling with my novel right now - every time I look at it, it pokes me in the brain like a stick in dogshit - but it is about the only thing I am optimistic about - yeah my book - whew is it hot in here OR DO I JUST FUCKEN HATE EVERYONE!!!!

Do you ever feel trapped - like your stuck in something and can't get out? You're stuck in a really narrow hallway and can't move. Your car is boxed in and its midnight, there's no one around. The bathroom door of a single toilet restroom is mysteriously locked from the outside and you are in there fiddling with your hands and breaking into a cold sweat wondering what in the hell you are supposed to do?

I wonder what it would be like to know that you were about to drown and had to live in that instance for eternity? That moment when the heat-panic sets in and you just realize that something beyond your control is happeing to you. And as the cliche goes there is nothing you can do but try to solve the Rubick's Cube of your situation.
The water quickly rises as you desperately try to solve the puzzle but you are getting so anxious and paranoid that you can't seem to concentrate too well on you puzzle solving. You decide to take a few seconds and distract yourself even if you know the water is climbing. It is rising and it won't stop until it fills your world up right to the top.

"How highs the water Moma?"
"Five feet and rising son."

Your finger nails have pulled away from your fingertips and the sides of your hands are raw from beating on the door. Snot sprays and spider webs down your face and clings to your lips over your mouth and chin as you sense your impending doom. The door simply won't open and there doesn't seem to be anyone on the other side.

So I guess the rain is here now. At least that is the idea that I'm getting. It is that time of year. I have to confess I sure don't miss the drive to work. It feels good to get up and hit Starbucks listening to the traffic reports knowing that I don't have to be a part of it anymore. There are a lot of things I don't miss. Actually I don't really miss any of it. Pretty soon it will be just like the place never existed. Except for some of the people of course.

Yeah so today is going to be a mellow one. Not much happening here. I will most likely spend a good part of the day reading and then start to rework the beginning of my novel. zzzzzz...zzzzz After that well who knows???

I see dead people.

On Friday evening my wife and I went to see an exibit called Body Worlds 2. It is a show comprised of over 200 displays of dead, preserved, human anatomy. I held a real human brain in my hand and got up close and personal with more dead people than I can count. There were exploding heads, dead mothers with babies inside, fat guys cut into strips, cocks and vaginas pulled out and on tables, kidneys to play with, and livers to fondle. Everything was dead and it stunk like something - but I am not sure what. Most of the people had their skin pealed off - but some had it left on in special places like eyebrows, lips and genitals.

It was like walking through a human butcher shop. I look at a hand with all of its skin removed and then I look at my own hand and move it in front of my face. I swallow my spit and glance over at a tongue attached to a windpipe laying on a table. There is a man with his skeleton pulled out and it walks ahead of him - it looks like he is following it - trying to catch up to it - he doesn't have any skin and all of his guts are pulled out and hanging on a rack beside him.

He still has his eyebrows and toenails but his brain is missing. People have their kids here waking around and looking at the dead people's genitals determining if they are boys or girls - "Look mommy this one is a girl!" There is a skinless woman with a wig on. Her hands and feet are flat on the floor and she faces the ceiling looking like she is doing the crab-crawl. Her nipples and labia are left on. I get really close to them and look real hard at the insides and almost want to touch - I am touching them with my eyes I am looking so hard and intensely at them. I keep telling myself they are all fake but I know they are real. They could be me, and they are me.

Child skeletons hold onto skinless father's hands and they are posed in a casual way, like you might see them walking down the street. People don't say much - everyone just stares and stares in a subtle form of shock. Everything is macabre and very unpleasant to look at - it is as surreal as reality can get. At one point I want out. I wish I hadn't come to see this cavacade of torture and dismemberment but there is nowhere to run and my morbid fascination represses my desire to escape so I take a more clinical and educational attitude. - I push my emotions away and say wow - how fascinating.

That night I go home and dream that I have two human heads in pillow cases in bed with me. I am supposed to keep them with me because I know the people that are now just heads in pillow cases. I am supposed to take them to the show and put them up for everyone to see. In my dream I am killing people and taking their bodies to the show - I have to do it to show dead people with their skin on - we need to add that to make the show complete. The heads in the pillow cases are going to go on stands and I worry that they won't be smiling and will they scare the kids...

It has been three days and I still think about it - somehow it changed me and I am not sure yet. Something is different. Everything just seems a little less pleasing. It kind of reminds me of the day after you loose your virginity - you keep thinking about it and wonder what's left now that you have experienced it.

Some things are beautiful even if you don't see them as they are.
These boxes were begging me to photograph them.

Another day on planet earth and nothing really out of the ordinary to write about except the fact that I keep having dreams about my deceased mother. Last night it was one with us in a car eating some weird form of oriental peanut brittle. We were eating it and talking about how it tasted rotten and that we would never buy it again - we agreed that it looked way more delicious than it tasted.

There have been other dreams too. Ones that don't really have any substance - I just wake up and feel like I have spent time with her. Others - just conversations or appearances - but for the past week she has been here in my head each night.

I find it strange because she has been gone for over 20 years and I don't spend too much time thinking about her - Years pass and you learn to even forget your own mom. The brain has strange ways of recovering from pain.

Anyways I have just been seeing her in my sleep way more often lately so I guess deep in the core of my grey-matter there is some reprogramming going on and her files came up - maybe my brain is re-indexing itself - yeah that's what it is.

Maybe the dead just come back once in a while to remind you about them.

... ooooo...spooky...

Huh? What was that?

Today there doesn't seem to be too to much on my mind. I know I was supposed to report back later - so I guess this is it ... I keep getting up really early in the morning and going to bed really late. This picture was taken for some reason - but I don't remember why. It has something to do with the colour and composition I guess but I don't really want to go into it - It's really not that good of a shot and I don't really know why it made it up but its all I felt comfortable putting up this morning. I will try and do a more interesting post later - but right now I am feeling a little burned out - there has been a lot going on for me this week and I just don't have it in me right now to give you anything good. - sorry.

Large - DAABO - Daabo - DAABO

Yeah so anyways I says to the guy...

Theres a Tim Horton's just down the road from here I went there yesterday at 8:30 am. Some guy held the door for me so I gave him seven dimes. He said thanks but I don't think that he really meant it. It seemed more like he was a kid opening Christmas presents - ok got that now lets get on to the next one. I was just an object in his assembly line of collection - after realizing this I wanted my seven dimes back. - Oh and yeah as I was waiting in line for my Large - DAABO - Daabo - DAABO the lady in front of me started to beak off about her political views and how she thought the government must have jobs for people like that and huh - why doesn't he just go get one.

It was so rewarding and enriching to hear her pontificate the political climate and the homeless. I wanted to grab her by the back of the neck and rub her face in her own shit. But somehow I doubt that would of gone over well so I just got my coffee and walked home.

There's a large bridge I cross to get back south of the Danforth and as I was crossing it I remembered the time my wife and I looked over the side and watched a bunch of EMS people cleaning up a jumper - The go trains run through there at top speed and someone launched themselves out into one. There were three piles covered with silver plastic and a bunch of stains - there must of been 30 people gathered there watching.

It made my wife sick but I found it to be kind of fascinating. It was like seeing the end of something and knowing that it really was the end. It was morbidly intimate.

Nice talk huh - Well a memory is a memory and an experience is an experience isn't that the most profound thing you ever read?

Man am I ever full of shit today.

See ya I am going to go stare at a few things and then I will report back here later.

Do you ever think like maybe your brain is going to explode? Sometimes I will just be sitting still and wondering to myself shit how can there be so much going on inside my head and how is it possible to actually make any sense out of it? It seems like there are constantly just blasts of money-shots over and over again - like in that movie braisnstorm when the guy loops his orgasmic experience and plays it over and over again until he goes into a seizure ..... It's like watching lava bubble out of the earth non-stop forever. It just keeps on going and going and going. Some times I wish there was a switch on the back of my scull that I could just switch off - but the problem would be how would you switch yourself back on?

Think about it - we could all turn ourselves off but never be able to turn ourselves back on - we would have to wait around for someone to come by and hit the switch for us - I guess we could pin notes to our shirts and write times on them - "please turn me back on at 1:30" Wow you really turned me on there - thanks.

People could just switch off at any time - it would be great if you were on a plane that was about to crash - you could just switch yourself off and then hope that someone would be able to get you back on later - when it was all over.

Click.

Thanks!

Hey - thanks - you know who you are - the ones that have made the effort to contact me and to send me the kind words. The ones that made me feel better by telling me all they have - I know this is a sappy post and sure there won't be a dry eye in the house and all that shit - but you have to give credit where credit is due - not all of my posts can be as tight as a jaybird's egg pouch - some are just bound to be a little leaky around the edges (I told myself I wasn't going to cry). You all really are helping - darn tootn' damn strait. Just had to let u know.

Shit man it sounds like I am terminal or something - poor fella got kicked out of heaven and can't get back in - cashed in his wings for a pitchfork and a scalded ass.

I went to the beach again - I tell ya it works wonders - a few straight shots of brandy and then a long walk off a short pier. It clears out the sinuses.

Forgivness is for Fags

Sorry about the fag comment - but it just seemed like good alliteration at the time. So it's day two at ground zero and I think that things are going to be ok - at least for the next few minutes - when I start to calculate all of my ovehead and expenses I see double and my stomach secretes an acid like substance that eats its way through my gut and travels right down into my crotch. It stings. I was walking down the sidewalk today (my wife insists we take walks) and everything went sideways - I get these pangs of guilt that I am supposed to be at work but then I realize that after six years of routine the rug has been pulled out from under me - so - things go sideways every so often.
We walked around for about an hour and then we stopped and got a coffee. The two of us sat outside and I saw this church sign staring at me from accross the street - It resonated through my bones and my brain processed the information and then it spoke to me. Yes I see it - here is the truth - the light - and the way.

"Never hold a grudge, forgivness is a gift you give yourself."
"P.S. Go Fuck yourself..."

At least this is how I read it - what do you make of it?
Ah alas peace is mine, the tranquility of admonishing rage by pure and simple choice. It even sounds heavenly doesn't it? These walks are really starting to pay off don't you think? The coffee was good and the sun was shining. I think it was about 2:30 in the afternoon. The time when I would look at my watch at the office and want to put a gun to the roof of my mouth and blow the top of my head all over the ceiling because I still had another three hours to go, and then another hour of rush-hour commuting.

All this freedom and joy, but still it's not enough to forgive anyone.

I made a list.

I think I'll go home and burn some candles, do some kind of voodoo shit, bleed out into an old lead pan, and dip a red hot dagger into my own blood. Yeah, collect my cat's hairballs and recite a few incantations, brush up on my evil eye in the mirror and so on.

I gotta go - I got shit to do.

Serenity Now

So I took a walk on the beach - to try and clear my head. It helped a bit but the bad thoughts kept coming back to me - like the stink of a sewer, thick and heavy. The wind felt good on my face and it was great to be alive. There is something about the water that helps people - at least for a few minutes. You see I needed this walk because I got canned from my job on Wednesday - so I needed a little R&R so to speak. Something to - you know clear out the bad thoughts - like sticking people with knives and digging out eyeballs and such. Yes. The walk on the beach helped. I can thank my wife for that. There really are advantages to having your own personal shrink as a spouse - it can really pay off for those times when you see red and you just want to smell the blood and shit of those you have just gutted. Yes - a walk on the beach to reflect - it really does take the bad thoughts away.

I Want The Virgin Mary

Ok I am going to come clean - for over the last 28 years of my life I have had a thing for the VM. Maybe it is the vestments that do it for me - the complex Freudian mother issues - the pale and perfect skin - the smooth fleshy arms out-stretched and all welcoming like - the bare feet - chicks with bare feet are hot especially when they are draped in fabric. I love when the VM wears the powder-blue vestments - they seem to really bring out her eyes. She always looks so sad - I just wanna like you know kinda be there for her - cheer her up, get her giggling and then just give it to her.

She is so tall and I do have a thing for tall chicks - my wife is 6'.

For as long as I can remember I see myself in church having special"thoughts" about the VM as she stood either in front of me or off on the sidelines while mass took place. I hated when the church had her behind me because there was no way to glance coyly over at her as the priests mumbled on and on. There were times when I got myself really worked up and had to cover things up and grind hymn books into my crotch as my mother swatted me in the shoulder. It was bad. I was a bad kid. I am a bad person.

I wanna have sex with the VM - that can't be good for my future. But she is a virgin right? She is the only publicly out virgin I have ever heard about. Isn't it like just normal for guys to want to get a hold of a few virile virgins and just go to town on them (they have to be willing candidates though right)?

Oh well I guess I'll See you in hell.

What Colour Underwear Did You Pick Today?

So today I decided a few things and then I did a few things. I got up in the morning and decided to shave and take a shit - then I decided to wipe my ass and take a shower. When I was in the shower I decided what type of shampoo to use (there were four to choose from) and I also decided what type of body soap to use - I opted for the green French carbolic because my hot-parts were feeling a little oily.

When I got out of the shower I decided which towel to use and then decided what underwear to put on. Tight or loose? What's my mood say? After that it was to decide what to wear and then what to bring for lunch.

The only reason I stopped making decisions about things was because I was running out of time and had to get moving. It seems that this year it is going to take me a solid hour to get to work in the morning - without escape. For some reason it is taking longer to get here than it does to get home. I am starting to get scared because there isn't even any snow on the ground yet.

When I got into my car it was time to decide what I would listen to - the radio or a CD and then after deciding on the CD player it was what CD to listen to - I choose Jack Johnston first and then went into the latest Moby CD - first disc. After that I chose lanes to drive in, how fast to go, who to let in and cut off, and so on.

All of this happened with little or no conscious focus - it was all pretty subconscious - almost instinctual. We all do this every day I guess but what would happen if we couldn't decide - or if these types of decisions were harder to make and took longer. Imagine if we were all still wandering around in our homes nude trying to figure out which pair of underwear to put on. What if deciding on what to bring for lunch put you into crisis and there was no way around it - would you go to work without a lunch? How is it that we are all able the weigh out the magnitude of our own inane decisions - how is it that we can take things for granted just "because".

How many things make up the inter-woven process of each conclusive decision we make each day?

Go Fuck Yourself

This is a post for all of those people - the ones that need to be told to go fuck themselves. There are so many of them, we all have a large list - shit I may even be on yours, and you on mine - so here it is - for all those people that nearly or really deserve it. The ones that piss you off in traffic, the ones that send those Blockbuster recorded messages to your house, the ones that piss all over the toilet seat or shit and don't flush, the ones that secretly don't wash their hands after they take a dump or a leak (you know who you are), the ones that take the largest box of French fries off of the McDonald tray, the ones that let their dog shit on your lawn, the ones that let their kids run wild, the ones that litter, kick dogs, steal your mail, lie, won't help themselves, moan all the time, think they are better than you, power trip, talk behind your back, change their mind, take advantage, fuck you and never call, search through your things, steal your ideas, dwell on the past, won't help themselves, play devil's advocate, eat from the bulk bins, double park, and so on. I could type this list for hours - so to save you the pain of reading it how about this - why don't you all just go fuck yourselves.

This post is a downer

I have a certain feeling of paranoia today - like something is just not right in my universe. I don’t like when this happens - it makes me feel uneasy and I keep wondering why I am feeling this way and then I just get more paranoid. It might have something to do with the fact that my wife handed me a delicious Americana on the way out of the door this morning and I bolted it back before I hit the 401, but I doubt it.

It’s like my back is covered with ice water - i pull my shoulders together but it doesn’t help. At times like this I feel that life is getting away from me, like a carpet pulling out from under my feet. I feel like I am running out of time but i don’t really know what to do with the time I have. The weather is turning somber and cold and my feet are chilled because I am still wearing sandals. the globe is moving away from the sun for the 42rd time in my life. To think that fall has only happened 42 times for me makes my life seem small and insignificant. 42 is not a very big number and I will be lucky if I see 40 more falls I am sure.

The thought of being mortal is enough to make anyone’s guts turn over if you really think about it. Time is running out for each and every one of us and some people are just more aware of it than others. Today is one of the days I see my life as small and insignificant numbers.

Shit - there’s nothing I can do about it so I guess I should just try to distract myself back into unconscious living. I’m sorry for bringing you down here with me. (I know don’t apologize it is a sign of weakness)

George Bush's Dumass Head On A String

This is a photo of my air freshener. It is called George Bush's Dumass Head On A String. It was given to me as a gift - a birthday gift to be exact and when I first got it it smelled pretty good. I laughed really hard at it and was excited to put it in my car. It has been there for about three months now and the smell is all gone. The thing is it is really starting to get on my nerves - each day I have to look at his stupid face swinging back and forth at me. That expression over and over again. And then I read it - George Bush's Dumass Head On A String. For some reason I just can't bring myself to pull it down. I guess I am a masochist. God Bless America - and Thank God I'm Canadian.

These jackets are for sale Don't you just LOVE them?

I could just die for one of these - I think I'll wear mine to the party on thursday!!!

A blog about a blog

This is a picture of what I see when I look at my blog - I don't know why I posted this - I guess it just looks neat for me to see my blog on my blog. I was going to take another picture with this picture posted and so on but I got bored of the idea and only got this far so you will have to imagine it the way I originally wanted it.
I think that my last post was a little boring - sorry it was so self-indulgent - I know don't apologize it is a sign of weakness. I feel a little blogged out this week - yes I have overdone it now I am lost for words. It is starting to rain here which means it will take extra-long to get home. oh do da day!!!

My Alter-Ego

One of the things that takes up a lot of my time is working on my alter-egos. When you mention on-line gaming to most people their eyes glaze over and they take a step backwards thinking that you most likely smell like spent semen and body odor. Most people have no concept of the involvement, sophistication and dedication it takes to participate successfully in an on-line gaming community. They associate them with the likes of a sniffling thirty-something basement-dweller - you know - their mother brings down their dinner and they take masturbation breaks between online gaming sessions - their weekly outing a visit to the comic store.

Primarily the attraction lies in the mystique of experimenting with alter egos. When you are inside an active on-line gaming environment things work pretty much the way they do in the real world but there are a few fantastic twists that make things far more interesting than real life. First off you can cheat death. This means that your alter-ego can take far more risks that one might in the real world. Most of the other inhabitants of the online gaming realms contain a multitude of other live players that you can interact with in many different ways.

This provides a series of varied fascinations that can easily become obsessions. There are obsessions for power, obsessions for wealth, obsessions for talents, obsessions for notoriety, obsessions for the concept of breathing life into a character that you control and can experiment with in limitless ways.

I feel that the likes of Warcraft, Everquest and The Matrix Online exemplify the infancy of a new world or frontier. These distant dimensions that many have become inhabitants of allow a place for regular people to become things they never dreamed of. The worlds are an illustrious tapestry of visual imagination and technology. They provide a kaleidoscope of compelling surroundings that never get tired.

The anticipation of an upcoming session of online gaming sends endorphens of pleasure through my body just thinking about it. It is a drug of sensory and imaginative nature. One can literally jack out of one's reality and go into another.

Headphones are the key to immersion, as well as darkening your surroundings. The best way to describe the experience is to imagine yourself at the movies and when the action gets going and things start to really heat up you get up out of your seat and walk up to the screen and right into the world in front of you.

There is nothing like it this side of freebasing crack cocaine.

From a creative standpoint I think that gaming in general trains the brain to see things differently and opens up the walls of ones own perceptive imaginative capacity - to be able to think, problem-solve, and allow oneself to behave instinctually in a variety of obtuse environments can only open the imagination.

Yes - the alter-ego is a great place to spend the day. When I think of my characters I see true extensions of myself. The avatars lay in waiting until I log on and take them back into their worlds. I can fight other players or creatures, go shopping, make something, hunt, put things up for auction, go fishing, cook food, make potions and machines, train pets, and travel to distant lands with complete ecosystems and geographical details. The games even have their own economies and you can literally pay Canadian currency for virtual currency if you are too lazy to try to earn your way inside the virtual worlds.

The stigma attached to such things is like any other stigmatism - people don't fully understand the concept and pass judgments with their uneducated conclusions. Sure these games are not for everyone - including children, but they serve as an excellent form of escapism and entertainment. The best part is that there is no advertising - it is a crystal clear medium so far - one that is pure and unencumbered by commercial motives.

My current MMORPG of choice is Warcraft (I have played most of them). Warcraft has over four million active users. This in itself proves that online gaming is here to stay and frankly I am sure that it will become THE primary medium for human entertainment. It may take a decade or two - but the concept of the alter-ego is something that we obsess over at childhood (Dolls, Heros, Idols) and carry the fantasy right through to our adult lives.

How would you like to live the life of your role model?
How would you like to change yourself?
How would you like to be in complete control of everything?
How would you like to cheat death?
How would you like to play by your own rules?

The fantasy can be yours for about 20 bucks a month and a 1200.00 computer.

I Think My Cats are Gay - But I'm OK With That...

Yes - the jury is in and so is the verdict. My cats are gay - but I'm ok with that. I have two male cats - both neutered. One is named Otto Madd and the other is Wiper Blade. My cats are in love. They are having a wildly passionate love affair and they seem quite proud of it.

When they first met they hated each other and expressed their feelings freely. As time passed they started to warm up and began to spend hours wrestling. They would lock together and roll back and forth in a violent knot of biting, scratching and snarling. I would find large chunks of hair about the house - chunks too large to have fallen out on their own.

Sometimes they have unseen quarrels. One of them will be sitting daydreaming and the other will saunter by and brush against the other affectionately. Then out of nowhere a screaming snarl of disagreement and violent claw-filled lashes. It seems that at times they resort to hating each other and are not intimidated by expressing it. Was it something the other had done hours before to instigate such dissatisfaction?

They speak to each other in some type of cat-language. One will call the other to announce the arrival of food or things of visual interest. They sit side-by-side looking out into the big unknown world sharing the most intimate of moments together.

My cats are in love. They have adapted themselves into some sort of symbiotic organism - a yin-yang of their own alter-egos. Each one has its' own specific behavior pattern - one that separates it completely from the other. They each do exactly the same things but do them in completely different ways. If I am asleep and one of them approaches me I can tell which one it is at first contact. Their physical individuality emanates from them, and they each have their own distinct scent.

But when they pair up they become one. Their accepted and participatory actions transform them into some sort of pack-like behavior. When they look at me as a collective I see different animals than when they look at me on their own.

My cats are in love - they bathe each other and sleep together for hours. They share experiences and pleasures without any conscious inhibitions. They communicate their feelings perfectly and never give mixed messages. They live in the moment and carry very few pre-meditated agendas. My cats are in love and they don't even know it. Their consciousnesses have melded into one and at times I am sure that they are unaware of themselves. They exist somewhere in-between each other and float outside of themselves. They personify the perfection of unity.

Some days I wish I was one of them. To be able to bask in their tranquility without the markings of my own evolution.

Building 627

Building 627 - that's where THEY took me. I didn't want to go. THEY came and pulled me out of my world and put me into a nighmare. I was working things out, I was going to be fine. There was no reason for THEM to come.

I remember being able to feel safe in bed. I remember curling inta a ball and scrunching my eyes closed smiling inside because it was so warm and quiet. I didn't need anyone, I could keep myself company. There was nothing I needed and then THEY came and fucked everything up. If only people would learn to leave other people alone. Things would be so much simpler in life.

Now I'm stuck here and I will never get out. I have to spit pills in stranger's faces and act out to get any attention. The only time any of my family show up is if I throw some kind of fit. I guess they get a call when I do. I guess THEY think that if I have a tantrum it warrants a phone call to next-of-kin, whatever the fuck that means. It must be some sort of policy.

Then one of them shows up and THEY clean me and put me in a room.
"Why don't you just try to act normal?" my sister will say -
"Why don't you just settle down?" my dad will say.
My mom just cries and gives me a hug. All I want to do is go back to bed, back in my own apartment. I just want to go home and not bother anyone. Why is it such a crime to want to just stay the fuck away from people. If people would just leave me alone then maybe I could get on with my life. What's so wrong with not wanting to be around anyone else? What's so wrong with being creeped out by other people? Every time I deal with anyone I end up in some tourture chamber.
Building 627. That's what they call it.
"We're here to help you." That's what they say.

The Conversation - Secion Two

PERSON:
Yes things are going fine. I am totally starting to get my life together now, there are no more nightmares and most of the skin irritations have cleared up. I just wish I could get a handle on why you keep wanting to only meet me in public places. We never share any intimate times together any more.
Remember how we used to get into bed and cling to each other for dear life? Remember how you used to let me squeeze you around the waist until you could hardly breathe and I would cry for hours telling you about my shitty childhood? I really miss those times. The smell under the sheets because we wouldn't wash for days and then you would come over and we would have sex - just the way I liked it. I used to love the exotic challenge of tasting you and your dirty, dirty parts. It made me feel alive, I loved every second of you and I want it all back, every single bit of it. We really were so dirty together, it was great. I want things to go back the way they used to be. I want you to love me like you used to. Those were good times and I want them back.

WOMAN:
You want them back. You want them back. Well for your information I don't. I didn't come here to get back together with you, frankly I don't even know why I agreed to meet today. You didn't even by my lunch like you promised; you are so full of shit. And you sit here and smile at me grovelling like a whiny little schoolgirl. Fuck this shit I think I will go out and get fucked by a big biker-guy or some fucking brute with a big sausage-dick. Someone that can pick me up and spin me around, throw me down and just give it to me until it feels like I am going to completely rip apart. Yeah that's what I'm going to do.

Why don't you go take a fucking shower or something - maybe get yourself sandblasted - fuck!

remember things from my childhood that I wish I didn't. Like the time my cousine told me to stick my finger in the cigarette lighter of his father's car, the time I saw a cat buried beneath the hide of a dead calf pulling chunks of meat from it's decomposing body, the time my german sheppard puppy got hit by a car, the time I cut my leg on a wire of the fence at the zoo as I watched the squrrel monkeys play, the time my dad made me help him gut a deer that he shot and cut its throat and I watched die at my feet, the time my mom got drunk and spit blood in my dad's face, the time I watched a kid almost drown in a creek on the way to school, the time my cat got shot in the eye with a BB gun, the time we drove by a car accident and I saw a woman crying and picking teeth out of her unconscious husband's mouth, the time I had to help my dad kill chickens by holding their feet as he chopped off their heads with an axe, the time I fell into a pool at the Holiday Inn and sat at the bottom screaming under water, the time I cut a chunk of my knuckle off at the cottage carving a peice of wood, the time I go beat up at school, the time I saw a soldier pick up a man's head on the news during the Vietnam war, the time my grandfather made me help him cut horns off of the cows at the farm. There are more, but I can't distinctly remember them right now, but I am sure they will come back to haunt me, they always do.