If I died tomorrow, there would be nothing extraordinary in my obituary. That's how I know I'm wasting my life. Here's to harnessing something that will drive me.
I have so many passions. Where is my direction?
30 May 2007
26 May 2007
theory of mind.
Does there exist a person without qualms about their place in society?
Are there really people in the world who never sense that they are somehow alienated?
People who are ostensibly "normal," which is most of us by definition but not in practice, do you also go to bed at night ruminating on how you're somehow the odd man out, but only you know it?
I'll be the first to jump to the assertion that normalcy itself is an illusion, pragmatically, albeit probably a necessary one. But entertaining the idea, is there any individual who doesn't think of "average" people as an abstract, unseen group... as the "Others"?
If the answer is yes, then some of us really are outcast, but we'll never know for sure who we are, because one's place in society hinges entirely on the inaccessible perceptions of others.
If the answer is no, if the exception is the rule, then people afraid of being outcast are torturing themselves needlessly, and those afraid of being normal aren't as special as they think -- then being outcast is as illusory as being normal.
With a few notable exceptions that it would be mean to point out. Hot-dog-hat Wal-Mart guy.
Are there really people in the world who never sense that they are somehow alienated?
People who are ostensibly "normal," which is most of us by definition but not in practice, do you also go to bed at night ruminating on how you're somehow the odd man out, but only you know it?
I'll be the first to jump to the assertion that normalcy itself is an illusion, pragmatically, albeit probably a necessary one. But entertaining the idea, is there any individual who doesn't think of "average" people as an abstract, unseen group... as the "Others"?
If the answer is yes, then some of us really are outcast, but we'll never know for sure who we are, because one's place in society hinges entirely on the inaccessible perceptions of others.
If the answer is no, if the exception is the rule, then people afraid of being outcast are torturing themselves needlessly, and those afraid of being normal aren't as special as they think -- then being outcast is as illusory as being normal.
With a few notable exceptions that it would be mean to point out. Hot-dog-hat Wal-Mart guy.
18 May 2007
RIP Jerry Falwell
Way to found the Moral Majority and the Religious Right, and lobby for a Christian church takeover of the entire public school system.
Way to push for ordinances which discriminate based on sexual orientation, promote the notion that the antichrist must be "Jewish," and call Martin Luther King Jr. a pioneer of "civil wrongs."
Way to blame feminists and the ACLU for the September 11th attacks.
You spent your life shitting on minorities. The rich, white members of your megavangelical church will miss you.
Way to push for ordinances which discriminate based on sexual orientation, promote the notion that the antichrist must be "Jewish," and call Martin Luther King Jr. a pioneer of "civil wrongs."
Way to blame feminists and the ACLU for the September 11th attacks.
You spent your life shitting on minorities. The rich, white members of your megavangelical church will miss you.
The Patient.
A groan of tedium escapes me,
Startling the fearful.
Is this a test? It has to be,
Otherwise I can't go on.
Draining patience, draining vitality.
This paranoid, paralyzed vampire acts a little old.
But I'm still right here
Giving blood, keeping faith
And I'm still right here.
Wait it out,
Gonna wait it out,
Be patient (wait it out).
If there were no reward to reap,
A loving embrace to see me through
This tedious path I've chosen here,
I certainly would've walked away by now.
Gonna wait it out.
If there were no desire to heal
A damaged and broken man along
This tedious path I've chosen here
I certainly would've walked away by now.
And I still may ... [sigh] ... I still may.
Be patient.
I must keep reminding myself of this.
And if there were no reward to reap,
A loving embrace to see me through
This tedious path I've chosen here,
I certainly would've walked away by now.
And I still may.
Gonna wait it out.
Tool, The Patient.
Ad Nausea: Berries and Cream
I'd like to make the serious announcement that I LOVE this commercial. When I was doing really poorly, I started watching TV again to distract myself, and most advertisements still make me want to blow my brains out (television, radio, billboards, magazines, banana sticker cross-promotions), but this one makes me laugh until I cry.
This really is a notable development, because the best I do otherwise is snickering at the Geico caveman commercials. I loathe advertising with a passion and it makes me all queasy inside. But this one I drop everything to pay attention to. If you know me, you know how odd that is.
Some people don't seem to get it at all (particularly certain men who are just irked that he's so damned gay), while others will do the dance with me, repeatedly. And I can discuss its fucking brilliant nuances the way other people sit around and talk about Dostoyevsky... If I've lost you, I understand, but I want to thank this commercial for being able to make me glad that I turned on the TV. For a second.
Also, check out the very interesting phenomenon that has developed on YouTube: people posting videos of themselves re-enacting the commercial. Who knew?
I wrote the Starburst people to suggest that they make a second installment of the commercial consisting of ordinary people re-enacting the thing on YouTube and was summarily told to fuck off because they'd owe me money if they used my idea.
This really is a notable development, because the best I do otherwise is snickering at the Geico caveman commercials. I loathe advertising with a passion and it makes me all queasy inside. But this one I drop everything to pay attention to. If you know me, you know how odd that is.
Some people don't seem to get it at all (particularly certain men who are just irked that he's so damned gay), while others will do the dance with me, repeatedly. And I can discuss its fucking brilliant nuances the way other people sit around and talk about Dostoyevsky... If I've lost you, I understand, but I want to thank this commercial for being able to make me glad that I turned on the TV. For a second.
Also, check out the very interesting phenomenon that has developed on YouTube: people posting videos of themselves re-enacting the commercial. Who knew?
I wrote the Starburst people to suggest that they make a second installment of the commercial consisting of ordinary people re-enacting the thing on YouTube and was summarily told to fuck off because they'd owe me money if they used my idea.
The God Gamble.
Pastor Rick Warren explains the superiority of his stance on God this way: "When we die, if [atheists are] right, [Christians have] lost nothing. If [Christians are] right, [atheists have] lost everything. I'm not willing to make that gamble."
It's with that that Newsweek ends its presumptuous "Is God Real" article, giving Warren the weighted silence and presumable upper hand.
If that's "faith" then fucking shoot me now. That's not a leap of faith - that's an admission that his Christianity is a safety net. Faith, by definition: belief that is not based on proof.
Cheers to anyone whose Christian faith is truly that - faith. But if you're proselytizing and behaving yourself so you'll be sure to ascend just in case there is a heaven... you're just covering your ass. "Hey, Pete! Wow, I sure am glad I played it safe."
You want to know what's a leap of faith? Continuing to live life and love people even when you're sure that nothing but the void awaits you on the other side -- and being an atheist or agnostic in the face of the risk of being wrong. That's strength.
There's always room for more (and more) Jello
It's difficult to sit ten feet from Jello Biafra for four and a half hours without jumping out of your seat like an idiot and toadying him about all the things he already knows he's done for America's kids over the past 30 years and can-I-just-shake-your-hand.
Anyway,
And on the rapture: what a relief for those left behind (we'll be fine as long as we have THIS). Yeah, floods, droughts and tornadoes (and world order as dictated by the manifested anti-christ) beats the shit outta war, capitalist facism and torture (and a new world order dictated by our primadonna anti-christ).
Jello is turning 50 this year, if I recall, and he is far from the lanky, sneering punk prognosticator who caught everyone's attention - I would never have noticed him walking down the street - but he's just as enthralling as a mellower reverend of the Green church (no mention of anarchy any longer). A little less spewing vitriol, a little more smirking irony, but the manic-preacher voice looks like it'll never be extinguished.
Anyway,
"We interrupt this program with a special bulletin:On the topic of the two-party (if you can call it that) system: The only difference between the two is that Democrats pretend to feel bad about their transgressions.
America is now under marshall law.
All constitutional rights have been suspended.
Stay in your homes.
Do not attempt to contact love ones, insurance agent or attorney.
Shut up.
Do not attempt to think or depression may occur.
Stay in your homes.
Curfew is at 7 PM sharp after work.
Anyone gaught outside of gates of their surveillance sectors after curfew
will be shot.
Remain calm, do not panic.
Your neighborhood watchofficer will be by to collect urine examples in
the morning.
Anyone gaught intefering with the collection of urine examples will be
shot.
Stay in your homes, remain calm.
The number one enemy of progress is question.
National security is more important than individual will.
All port broadcasts will proceed as normal.
No more than two people may gather anywhere without permission.
Use only the drugs prescribed by your boss or supervisor.
Shut up.
Be happy.
Obey all orders without question.
The comfort you've demanded is now mandatory.
Be happy.
At last everything is done for you."
And on the rapture: what a relief for those left behind (we'll be fine as long as we have THIS). Yeah, floods, droughts and tornadoes (and world order as dictated by the manifested anti-christ) beats the shit outta war, capitalist facism and torture (and a new world order dictated by our primadonna anti-christ).
Jello is turning 50 this year, if I recall, and he is far from the lanky, sneering punk prognosticator who caught everyone's attention - I would never have noticed him walking down the street - but he's just as enthralling as a mellower reverend of the Green church (no mention of anarchy any longer). A little less spewing vitriol, a little more smirking irony, but the manic-preacher voice looks like it'll never be extinguished.
Send your atheist friend an "I Told You So" letter after the rapture.
Suggested text is as follows:
Dear Friend;
This message has been sent to you by a friend or a relative who has recently
disappeared along with millions and millions of people around the world.
The reason they chose to send you this letter is because they cared about you
and would like you to know the truth about where they went.
This may come as a shock to you, but the one who sent you this has been taken
up to heaven.
If you read a Bible, you will see that after chapter three in the book of Revelation,
the church is no longer mentioned as being on earth. (The church are the believers
in Jesus Christ, not the buildings in which people meet.)
In the Bible, 1 Thessalonians Chapter 4 verses 16 and 17 tell how Jesus came
to take away His church. But, you have to believe the Bible is the Word of
God in order to believe this.
I am sure that there will be a lot of speculation as to what happened to all
these people. The theories of some scientists and world leaders will have
so much credibility that most of the world will believe them.
It will sound like the truth!
But, there is only one truth. And, that truth is that Jesus Christ, God in the flesh,
came back to earth and took with Him to Heaven all who believed in Him
and made Him their Lord.
If you would like to give your life to Jesus Christ and be born again, it is
not too late. First you must pray to God saying"Father I admit I am a
sinner, and I will turn from my sin and do good. I believe that Jesus was
your son and that He came here to die for me so that my sins would be
forgiven. I ask you to forgive me and I will repent of my sins. In Jesus
name I pray."
If you just prayed that prayer and meant it with all your heart, then God
will know you as one of His own. You should now seek out others who have
also given their lives to Christ, read a Bible daily, and do your best to
bring others to Christ.
God bless you.
http://www.raptureletters.com/
Expect two to six weeks for delivery after the Rapture.
Dear Friend;
This message has been sent to you by a friend or a relative who has recently
disappeared along with millions and millions of people around the world.
The reason they chose to send you this letter is because they cared about you
and would like you to know the truth about where they went.
This may come as a shock to you, but the one who sent you this has been taken
up to heaven.
If you read a Bible, you will see that after chapter three in the book of Revelation,
the church is no longer mentioned as being on earth. (The church are the believers
in Jesus Christ, not the buildings in which people meet.)
In the Bible, 1 Thessalonians Chapter 4 verses 16 and 17 tell how Jesus came
to take away His church. But, you have to believe the Bible is the Word of
God in order to believe this.
I am sure that there will be a lot of speculation as to what happened to all
these people. The theories of some scientists and world leaders will have
so much credibility that most of the world will believe them.
It will sound like the truth!
But, there is only one truth. And, that truth is that Jesus Christ, God in the flesh,
came back to earth and took with Him to Heaven all who believed in Him
and made Him their Lord.
If you would like to give your life to Jesus Christ and be born again, it is
not too late. First you must pray to God saying"Father I admit I am a
sinner, and I will turn from my sin and do good. I believe that Jesus was
your son and that He came here to die for me so that my sins would be
forgiven. I ask you to forgive me and I will repent of my sins. In Jesus
name I pray."
If you just prayed that prayer and meant it with all your heart, then God
will know you as one of His own. You should now seek out others who have
also given their lives to Christ, read a Bible daily, and do your best to
bring others to Christ.
God bless you.
http://www.raptureletters.com/
Expect two to six weeks for delivery after the Rapture.
the mortgage and the penis.
Some time ago, I came up with a joke about all spammers either offering to "shrink my mortgage, or enlarge my penis" when I set up a guestbook on my site and had to take it down because it was being spammed constantly.
I'm watching TV now (and this just proves to me that I have no clue what I'm missing when I'm not watching tv, which is always) and standup comedy is on...
and the man says....
"It seems like I'm only getting two kinds of spam these days; people promising to shrink my mortgage, and people trying to enlarge my you-know-what."
I was halfway tuned out until then and when I heard him say "people promising to shrink my mortgage...... " in the background, in that split moment of a pause, I felt my eyes get big and my jaw go slack. Then, in slow motion: "...or.. en...large... MY YOU-KNOW-WHAT! [hahahahahahaaa]".
It was that moment of frozen horror when you're stopped at a stoplight, watching in the rearview mirror, helplessly, as the car behind you barrels up behind you, tires screeching, waiting to see if they will be able to stop in time.
Baudrillard has a quote about how the notion of "stealing" other people's good ideas is bullshit because, if someone spontaneously comes up with the exact same idea as you, it means it was pedestrian idea to begin with.
So does this mean that my joke, which always made me giggle, (and is much funnier for me because I have neither a mortgage nor a penis, whereas Mr. Standup probably has both), was not as clever as I once thought, because clearly this man and likely a million un-famous others have had the very same idea and thought the joke to be their own?
Or does it mean I'm good enough to have my own standup special on Comedy Central?
I'm watching TV now (and this just proves to me that I have no clue what I'm missing when I'm not watching tv, which is always) and standup comedy is on...
and the man says....
"It seems like I'm only getting two kinds of spam these days; people promising to shrink my mortgage, and people trying to enlarge my you-know-what."
I was halfway tuned out until then and when I heard him say "people promising to shrink my mortgage...... " in the background, in that split moment of a pause, I felt my eyes get big and my jaw go slack. Then, in slow motion: "...or.. en...large... MY YOU-KNOW-WHAT! [hahahahahahaaa]".
It was that moment of frozen horror when you're stopped at a stoplight, watching in the rearview mirror, helplessly, as the car behind you barrels up behind you, tires screeching, waiting to see if they will be able to stop in time.
Baudrillard has a quote about how the notion of "stealing" other people's good ideas is bullshit because, if someone spontaneously comes up with the exact same idea as you, it means it was pedestrian idea to begin with.
So does this mean that my joke, which always made me giggle, (and is much funnier for me because I have neither a mortgage nor a penis, whereas Mr. Standup probably has both), was not as clever as I once thought, because clearly this man and likely a million un-famous others have had the very same idea and thought the joke to be their own?
Or does it mean I'm good enough to have my own standup special on Comedy Central?
My love.
My love is in league with the freeway
Its passion will ride, as the cities fly by
And the tail-lights dissolve, in the coming of night
And the questions in thousands take flight
My love is a-miles in the waiting
The eyes that just stare, and then glance at the clock
And the secret that burns, and the pain that grows dark
And it's you once again
Leading me on - leading me down the road
Driving beyond - driving me down the road
My love is exceedingly vivid
Red-eyed and fevered with the hum of the miles
Distance and longing, my thoughts do provide
Should I rest for a while at the side
Your love is cradled in knowing
Eyes in the mirror, still expecting they'll come
Sensing too well when the journey is done
There is no turning back - no
There is no turning back - on the run
...and the coming of night-time...
Robert Plant, Big Log.
I have no idea what too me so long to post these.... maybe I'm just now done decompressing. Here we have a picture-narrative of satisfactory quality for everyone to whom I did a shitty job of explaining the trip to Burning Man:
Our caravan, 5 vehicles long. We were being chauffered by the (super generous and awesome) Sutton family and a handful of their friends and girlfriends and THEIR friends and so on. This is in Tahoe:
Here's a cave on 80E on the way into Carson City, some cave or other...
And then....... kaBLAMmo. A piece of tire flies back from somewhere in the front of the caravan and hits our windshield.
While Penny and Martin replace their blown tire, the sun sets...
and we bip along through Reno in search of gas and snacks and hop back on the freeway....
And then, just when we were minding our own business...
Kablam. And this time we have no spare.
Interlude: Penny and Martin spend some time trying to figure out a creative way to find and install a tire for their camper at 9:30 pm in an unfamiliar Nevada city, where we don't know anyone or where anything is.... and they decide to stay the night, find a tire in the morning, and catch up to us. So the rest of us take off and drive, and drive, and drive, and......
Blac Rock City emerges on the horizon, a blue glow in the middle of the desolate Black Rock Desert (to its credit, it has a couple of tribal mini-marts). Next, and of this I don't have any photographic evidence because I was participating and not spectating: We lose the caravan in the entryway, and I get pulled out of the car and spanked when it's discovered that I've never been to Burning Man before... yatta yatta.
The next morning! Okay. Here's the billboard at the center of town, the only form of messaging available... we posted a sign hoping to lured Sean's uncle to our camp when he arrived.
On one of the cooler days, a bike ride out to the Man:
And here, a friendly neon robotic giraffe we encountered in the middle of the playa at god knows what time of night... it walked on its own and wiggled its ears and bent down to get a better look at people. Cute, and too bad it didn't show up on film better. Popular Science did an article on this guy.
AND this gigantic inflatable monkey man... who appeared in a camp neighboring ours on afternoon when my back was turned. And then disappeared and reappeared a number of times over the next week. VERY useful for finding my way home at 4 in the morning when trashed.
And the best shot I could get of the Man at night. he's a little different height and color every year. Heh I wonder if he knows what's coming...
Here, another daytime excursion, Sean wearing the latest fashions, with the "bird's nest" or "belgian waffle" on the left. It looked like a polar bear to me, but it was called "Message from the Future" and was effing gigantic.
Some people find creative ways to circumvent the huge ticket costs... as if skydiving was much cheaper, i guess...
The cathedral in the middle of nowhere, where we saw the aftermath of a wedding. With a viking priest.
My boy, on a long, rowdy, "well-fueled" night after his uncle and his friends arrived.
This is easily the best shot I captured the entire time: our friend the Boogie Man, who blasts the White Zombie and Crystal method and fires off giant fireballs, you know, the usual...
The propane blasts are incredibly bright and hot in the middle of the pitch black, freezing cold desert, and draw people in flocks like moths to a lightbulb.
Our S&M Devil ladyfriend:
And Sean owning it:
And the night of the burn, the Boogie Man took us out on the rack of his flame truck. As we approached the ruckus, the fireworks were set off...
A close shot of the man engulfed:
And then he's done in. The next morning, they open up ground zero to everyone to sift through, and this year I brought home a small piece of the man.
Here's some pretty decent footage of the fireworks display. It's kind of hard to tell what's going on, as the camera doesn't pick up on distant colors that well, and the dust in the air distorts everthing. Toward the end you can hear Sean talking some about the Belgian Waffle.
Burning Man: The Burn and Fireworks 2006
Add to your Space and what have
The next night we made off before the mob and made decent time and let our heads settle for two days. And then, now that i think of it, I never finished unpacking. There's a prelude and epilogue to this story that i don't feel like typing out.... so thanks for your time eh.
Our caravan, 5 vehicles long. We were being chauffered by the (super generous and awesome) Sutton family and a handful of their friends and girlfriends and THEIR friends and so on. This is in Tahoe:
Here's a cave on 80E on the way into Carson City, some cave or other...
And then....... kaBLAMmo. A piece of tire flies back from somewhere in the front of the caravan and hits our windshield.
While Penny and Martin replace their blown tire, the sun sets...
and we bip along through Reno in search of gas and snacks and hop back on the freeway....
And then, just when we were minding our own business...
Kablam. And this time we have no spare.
Interlude: Penny and Martin spend some time trying to figure out a creative way to find and install a tire for their camper at 9:30 pm in an unfamiliar Nevada city, where we don't know anyone or where anything is.... and they decide to stay the night, find a tire in the morning, and catch up to us. So the rest of us take off and drive, and drive, and drive, and......
Blac Rock City emerges on the horizon, a blue glow in the middle of the desolate Black Rock Desert (to its credit, it has a couple of tribal mini-marts). Next, and of this I don't have any photographic evidence because I was participating and not spectating: We lose the caravan in the entryway, and I get pulled out of the car and spanked when it's discovered that I've never been to Burning Man before... yatta yatta.
The next morning! Okay. Here's the billboard at the center of town, the only form of messaging available... we posted a sign hoping to lured Sean's uncle to our camp when he arrived.
On one of the cooler days, a bike ride out to the Man:
And here, a friendly neon robotic giraffe we encountered in the middle of the playa at god knows what time of night... it walked on its own and wiggled its ears and bent down to get a better look at people. Cute, and too bad it didn't show up on film better. Popular Science did an article on this guy.
AND this gigantic inflatable monkey man... who appeared in a camp neighboring ours on afternoon when my back was turned. And then disappeared and reappeared a number of times over the next week. VERY useful for finding my way home at 4 in the morning when trashed.
And the best shot I could get of the Man at night. he's a little different height and color every year. Heh I wonder if he knows what's coming...
Here, another daytime excursion, Sean wearing the latest fashions, with the "bird's nest" or "belgian waffle" on the left. It looked like a polar bear to me, but it was called "Message from the Future" and was effing gigantic.
Some people find creative ways to circumvent the huge ticket costs... as if skydiving was much cheaper, i guess...
The cathedral in the middle of nowhere, where we saw the aftermath of a wedding. With a viking priest.
My boy, on a long, rowdy, "well-fueled" night after his uncle and his friends arrived.
This is easily the best shot I captured the entire time: our friend the Boogie Man, who blasts the White Zombie and Crystal method and fires off giant fireballs, you know, the usual...
The propane blasts are incredibly bright and hot in the middle of the pitch black, freezing cold desert, and draw people in flocks like moths to a lightbulb.
Our S&M Devil ladyfriend:
And Sean owning it:
And the night of the burn, the Boogie Man took us out on the rack of his flame truck. As we approached the ruckus, the fireworks were set off...
A close shot of the man engulfed:
And then he's done in. The next morning, they open up ground zero to everyone to sift through, and this year I brought home a small piece of the man.
Here's some pretty decent footage of the fireworks display. It's kind of hard to tell what's going on, as the camera doesn't pick up on distant colors that well, and the dust in the air distorts everthing. Toward the end you can hear Sean talking some about the Belgian Waffle.
Burning Man: The Burn and Fireworks 2006
Add to your Space and what have
The next night we made off before the mob and made decent time and let our heads settle for two days. And then, now that i think of it, I never finished unpacking. There's a prelude and epilogue to this story that i don't feel like typing out.... so thanks for your time eh.
it gets inside you.
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love." Neil Gaiman
car crash.
Imagine you and me, frozen, spinning in slow motion. Tires squealing, eyes wide. Imagine grinding halt, dust cloud, engine stalled sideways in the middle of a busy freeway. Gravel rolling, heart pounding, oncoming cars. Neutral. Push.
young republicans.
I don't know one. But I've been told they exist.
By the next election, will Bush have either killed them all in Iraq or alienated them from their allegiance?
If Bush opens the door to a more liberal president in the next round, I will consider it the single positive outcome of his bumbling.
By the next election, will Bush have either killed them all in Iraq or alienated them from their allegiance?
If Bush opens the door to a more liberal president in the next round, I will consider it the single positive outcome of his bumbling.
Henry Rollins.
"Yes, I guess you could say I am a loner, but I feel more lonely in a crowed room with boring people than I feel on my own."
ode to my bad kitty.
ode to my bad kitty
"You want the big black one with the broken tail?" "Yeah." "Great. We've been having some trouble adopting him out." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah... I'm not sure why. He's really pretty and he has a lot of personality." "Yeah, I don't know either."Pretty kitty. Sweet kitty. Talkative kitty, why use your scratching post when you have the couch? Why use your bed when you have mine? Why play with your toys when you have bottle caps and packing tape? Why drink from your water dish when there's two, no three, toilets and a pool?
Most importantly, lovely kitty, why use your litter box when you can use my clean laundry?
Nice kitty.
Time.
Time.
Time has been making less and less sense to me lately.
Why are we so hung up on the notion that we're being whisked along some linear path from what was to what is to what will be? The clock is ticking, but it doesn't mean anything is going anywhere. Things are growing, deteriorating, and rebuilding, but rather than moving forward through their progression, everything is essentially static, changing only in form. Or if not completely static, then certainly only moving cyclically.
The cycle necessarily means change, but that change doesn't equal progress in the big picture in the way we want to believe it does. Eventually the snake will run out of ways to twist and will have to eat its own tail. Nothing really passes us by, but just builds and breaks, endlessly.
500 years from now, when every atom of my organic being as been reabsorbed by the earth and disseminated to become a part of plants, animals and other humans, will I have any progress along the time continuum to my credit? No. The atoms which comprise me at the end of my life will compost on top of the very same atoms which used to be mine in childhood. I will have been spawned, stood up and fallen down, but not have run anywhere.
20 billion of what once were William Shakespeare's atoms are at work in us (that's me and you too) every day. Is he really history?
In the cosmos, time moves faster and slower than it does on Earth, and if we were advanced enough to spend more time there, we'd be willing to loosen our grip on our concept of the passage of time as something separate from our spatial mobility. Billions of years into the future after the sun has blinked out and lost its grip on the Earth, and we've finally bumped into something massive enough to absorb, re-fuse and expel our matter and energy in completely different forms, we will never have existed as far as the cosmos are concerned (not that the universe ever cared for us in the first place).
X number of years into the future, will you actually be somewhere else, or just be something else? Sure you'll be somewhere else if you pack up and move to Amsterdam or Sudan, but even then you'll only have moved sideways, not forward.
A Thousand Years.
A thousand years, a thousand more,
a thousand times, a million doors, to eternity.
I may have lived, a thousand lives, a thousand times.
an endless turning, stairway climbs
to a tower of souls.
If it takes, another thousand years, a thousand wars,
the towers rise, to numberless floors, in space
I could shed, another million tears, a million breaths,
a million names, but only one truth to face.
a million roads, a million fears
a million suns, ten million years, of uncertainty.
I could speak, a million lies, a million songs,
a million rights, a million wrongs, in this balance of time.
But if there was, a single truth, a single light
a single thought, a singular touch, of grace
then following. this single point , this single flame,
the single haunting memory... of your face.
I still love you,
I still want you.
A thousand times, the mysteries, unfold themselves
like galaxies, in my head.
I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant.
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief...
I still love you,
I still want you.
A thousand times, the mysteries, unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head.
On and on the mysteries... unwind themselves,
eternities still unsaid...
'til you love me.
Sting, A Thousand Years.
Can you feel me?
LESTER
(Over telephone)
Can you feel my eyes on you? Can you
feel me look into your heart? Can
you feel me in the pit of your
stomach? Can you feel me in you? In
your heart?
We see a wide view of the elaborate wedding, guests mill
about the banquet hall.
LESTER
Don't make me come there. Answer me.
(Over telephone)
Can you feel my eyes on you? Can you
feel me look into your heart? Can
you feel me in the pit of your
stomach? Can you feel me in you? In
your heart?
We see a wide view of the elaborate wedding, guests mill
about the banquet hall.
LESTER
Don't make me come there. Answer me.
I need to get some brains. And gas money.
"... anyway yeah, I'm glad I came too. It cost so much gas money, though. I filled the tank in the Integra before I came, then on the way home I had to stop cause I was on E around Dunnigan and I only had ten dollars cash left so I put all of it in and was on E again when I got to B's that night so I had to use my debit card to put 15 more dollars in just to get home, then the next morning I got in the Ranger to go to work and it had like a quarter tank because someone else had been driving it so today I have to use my debit again cause I only have 3 dollars bills left and don't get paid til Thurs. The money in my checking account was stuck there to pay bills but I need gas now so when I get paid I have to put more of my check toward the bills and in effect I'm having to borrow money from myself just to get around. I am gonna get a bicycle! Sarah always jokes that she's going to ride her horse Feathers to work. I even heard about some man who actually did ride his horse to work. Now.... if I only I liked horses. I must breed a race of giant rat and develop a painless harness, and configure some primitive turn signals. Now that I think about it I'm not sure that Rat Chow is any cheaper than gas. Crap."
Nesting Habits of the Cancer
"Cancer! About your sign...
The Cancerian character is the least clear-cut of all those associated with the signs of the zodiac. It can range from the timid, dull, shy and withdrawn to the most brilliant, and famous. Cancerians are to be found through the whole range of human activity. It is a fundamentally conservative and home-loving nature, appreciating the nest like quality of a secure base to which the male can retire when he needs a respite from the stresses of life, and in which the Cancerian woman can exercise her strong maternal instincts. The latter tends to like and to have a large family. `Nest like' is an appropriate adjective for the Cancerian home, for its inhabitants tend to favor the dark, mysterious but comfortable type of house which has something of the air of a den about it, a place which belongs to the family rather than existing as a showcase to impress visitors.
That is not to say that the Cancerian is unsociable, just that for them there is a time to socialize and a time to be solitary, and this is part of the apparent contradiction in their nature. Outwardly they can appear formidable - thick-skinned, unemotional, uncompromising, obstinately tenacious, purposeful, energetic, shrewd, intuitive and wise, sometimes with a philosophical profundity of thought verging on inspiration. Their intimates, however, may see a very different character, one with a sympathetic and kindly sensitivity to other people, especially those they love. They are able to identify with the situations of others because of the keenness of their imaginations. They are often over-imaginative and prone to fantasy, sometimes trying to shape their lives to fit some romantic ideal.
They are appreciative of art and literature, and especially of drama, where the spectacle and ebb and flow of action and feeling particularly excite them. They may themselves possess considerable literary, artistic or oratorical talent. Their sharp ears and talent for mimicry can sometimes give them success on the stage, though their tendency to be emotional may make them overact. Interestingly - because they give the impression of being down-to-earth - they are often fascinated by the occult and are more open to psychic influence than the average. If they can reconcile the personal conflict of their urge to be outgoing with the reserve that causes them to withdraw into themselves, then at best they can inspire a generation, especially the youthful part of it, by their idealism. A job in which they can express this, and in which they can do well, would be as a leader in a youth organization [I actually do this now].
In their personal relationships they are mentally a mixture of toughness and softness, often emotional and romantic to the point of sentimentality in their fantasies; but in real life and in marriage, their loving is not so sentimental but tenaciously loyal. Even if they have affairs (and they may do so, for the male in particular is open to sensual stimulation), their first loyalty remains to spouse and family, of whom they regard themselves as the protector. Both the Cancerian man and woman love unreservedly, giving much and asking little in return - in fact, one of the most important lessons they have to learn is how to receive gracefully. They are too easily influenced by those they love and admire, and swayed by the emotion of the moment.
They are also loyal friends, the negative side of their faithfulness being clannishness. Cancerians have a retentive memory, particularly for emotionally laden events which they can recall in detail for years afterwards. They are strongly governed by childhood memories and since they live intensely in the past in memory and in the future in imagination, a chance meeting with someone for whom they had an unrequited love, even if they thought they had conquered the feeling, will easily rouse the emotion all over again.
The Cancerian has many potential faults. They can be untidy, sulky, devious, moody, inclined to self-pity because of an inferiority complex, brood on insults (very often imagined), yet are easily flattered. Their romanticism in another sense make them ardent supporters of causes, for example a football team with whose heroes they can identify in a world of fantasy. Their abilities fit the Cancerian for a wide range of occupations. As they are interested in what people are thinking and able to judge what they can safely be told, they can be good journalists, writers or politicians, though in this last capacity they are more likely to remain in the background rather than attain prominent positions of power. They may, indeed, change their party affiliations. They can serve in other departments of public affairs, especially those which involve looking after others, for example in any kind of service from welfare and nursing to catering - their own love of comfort and good living makes the Cancerian an excellent chef or housekeeper.
They sometimes have a penchant for trade or business and are often successful as a captain of industry. This is because they are excellent organizers with a good sense of value and economy which they may combine with a flair for inventiveness and originality. The romantic side of their natures make them enjoy grubbing about in places where exciting discoveries may be made (old stamp collections in attics, etc.), and if they can do this professionally as a secondhand dealer or specialist in antiques [my dad does this], they will be happy.
Their hair is usually brown, their faces round, their complexions pale, their foreheads prominent, their eyes small and blue or gray in color, their noses short, perhaps upturned, and their mouths full. They sometimes walk clumsily. Possible Health Concerns... Cancer governs the chest, breasts, elbows, stomach and digestion, womb and female reproductive organs. Cancer, which can affect any part of the body, is sometimes said to have taken its name from this sign, which can therefore afflict its subjects with imperfections anywhere. This is incorrect, however, the derivation of cancer being the Latin cancer meaning gangrene as well as crab. Nevertheless, Cancerians are said to be liable to breast cancer and to suffer from pleurisy, dropsy, piles and varicose veins. The excitability mentioned above can lead to weak digestion, gastritis and other stomach ills [existential dread?], and there is a tendency to coughs and weakness of vision.
Your ruling planet is the MOON."
The "MOON" not being a planet and all, I know all I need to know about the credibility of the astrologonomy above, but I can't help but ruminate on the accurate bits.
Encyclopedia Entry: The Ericalesaint.
ERICALESAINT. Slothlike, largely melancholy woodland creature which longs and attempts to belong to the city; roams at will, slowly assimilating; inevitably retreats to the safety and familiarity of its dark bucolic cocoon, only to long again for the lights and bustle. Neurasthenic and sensitive to light, it typically thrives and is more adventurous at night when it is less distraught by its own visibility.
Enjoys sporadic, notoriously fleeting cycles of equanimity and volubility when circumstances are precisely auspicious for it; inevitably lapses back into its primarily disconsolate disposition. Though skilled at appearing superficially stoic as a means of armor, the ericalesaint is highly sensitive, addled by an internal tide swell of passion, frustration, wanderlust, cursory bouts of self-loathing, and a thick slice of existential dread.
Classifying the ericalesaint necessarily lends itself to either generality or contradiction, due to its mercurial nature in mood, behaviour, speech, dress, eating, sleeping, dwelling and mating patterns, as well as its varying susceptibility and reaction to outside influences and stimuli. Very few observed behaviours can be classifed as anonymous.
Wintry and low-energy, it is often observed employing habits which are adverse to its own best interests, to wit: it tends to isolate itself despite its clear fondness for communication and the company of others. Typically nurturing, affectionate and sensual, always amiable in nature when softly approached, it despises conflict and withdraws into itself when hurt to avoid further injury to itself or others; rarely defends itself unless suffering an acute threat (wherein we find that it wields little-used claws). Though there exist few confirmed cases of physical aggression, it readily becomes verbally bellicose and snarky when offended.
Species are indigenous to the forested areas of Ireland and England; slightly variant species can be found in Japan, North and Middle America, the Carribean, the caves of the Antarctic and secluded areas of Greece. The ericalesaint has a particular taste for fermented hops and barley, a variety of cheeses and raw meats, and can be found snacking on saccharum, cacao and coca, kola and coffea plants. Omnivorous, bipedal, prone to referring to self in the third person.
Enjoys sporadic, notoriously fleeting cycles of equanimity and volubility when circumstances are precisely auspicious for it; inevitably lapses back into its primarily disconsolate disposition. Though skilled at appearing superficially stoic as a means of armor, the ericalesaint is highly sensitive, addled by an internal tide swell of passion, frustration, wanderlust, cursory bouts of self-loathing, and a thick slice of existential dread.
Classifying the ericalesaint necessarily lends itself to either generality or contradiction, due to its mercurial nature in mood, behaviour, speech, dress, eating, sleeping, dwelling and mating patterns, as well as its varying susceptibility and reaction to outside influences and stimuli. Very few observed behaviours can be classifed as anonymous.
Wintry and low-energy, it is often observed employing habits which are adverse to its own best interests, to wit: it tends to isolate itself despite its clear fondness for communication and the company of others. Typically nurturing, affectionate and sensual, always amiable in nature when softly approached, it despises conflict and withdraws into itself when hurt to avoid further injury to itself or others; rarely defends itself unless suffering an acute threat (wherein we find that it wields little-used claws). Though there exist few confirmed cases of physical aggression, it readily becomes verbally bellicose and snarky when offended.
Species are indigenous to the forested areas of Ireland and England; slightly variant species can be found in Japan, North and Middle America, the Carribean, the caves of the Antarctic and secluded areas of Greece. The ericalesaint has a particular taste for fermented hops and barley, a variety of cheeses and raw meats, and can be found snacking on saccharum, cacao and coca, kola and coffea plants. Omnivorous, bipedal, prone to referring to self in the third person.
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