So Many Damn Questions

Oh Canada

The little blonde boy chews chocolate
With rich indifference
The woman hands him her phone
A strategic move
The chocolate is done
And somewhere
They are crying
Over rice

The Point of Science

The point of science

The point of science is to open something up, and pull it's guts onto the table. From here you fondle the goo, pulling out all the little bits, proving they are your friends. Scientists are the bravest member s of society--after the gays. If you can prove these facts, then you must be a scientist yourself.

So go forth with this mentality into the world. Disect it for your own knowledge. Disect your friends without them even knowing it. Disect the mail lady; ask her how her husband is doing. Disect a tree, disect a book, disect an emotion. Don't worry about putting anything back together: a real scientist never cleans up their own mess.

The point of science is to prove the existence of an ultimate truth. Love, hate, truth, denial, time, space, among others, are all eternal. We can prove this by destroying everything and letting someone else put it back together. Go forth my monkey slaves, and annihilate.

Living The Dream

Living the dream

What does it mean to “Live the dream?”

I’ve had many jobs, in several different trades. I’ve been a gas station clerk, a furnace repair man, a warehouse slave, a music store geek, a dishwasher, a telemarketer, a freelance writer, a cook, a film and television background performer, an audio video/home theater technician, student, dating coach, and a pot dealer.

Guess what, I still haven’t figured out what to do with my life. I suppose at some point in space-time, during a moment of blinding clarity it will all come together and my uber career will materialize. Or not.

This is what I’ve come to realize about dreams…they are fluid, changing, and strange. In your sleep you journey from abstraction to oddity, bouncing wherever your subconscious moves to venture.

“I have a dream!” Yelled a famous man. He’s dead.

Imagine striving your entire life for material possessions: going to the same school, the same job, married to the same spouse, for the rest of your life. If you’re lucky enough to have a decent paying gig, you might get two weeks, or a month vacation a year to adventure and pretend you don’t despise your boring existence.

Society needs hard working, unquestioning types. If the whole of society consisted of free spirited, artistic vagabonds, the system would collapse. Look what happened in the 60’s. Well, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know anything but what the books, cinema and TV shows tell me.

Being guilt free and lazy, is that a dream come true? A Utopia of leisurely pleasure, where we can indulge our senses on whim, surrounded by beauty and art and love.

Or what if a computer system scanned your genetic code, maybe even your soul, and realized for you, your ultimate place of productivity within society. A position that would bring out the best of your prolific and passionate personality. Your drive to succeed. Things would get done.

The thing about dreams; they can morph into nightmares. Go live your dream, and make it a good one.

Success is easy for us rich westerners

It’s hard to find creativity when you work at a dead end job, selling diabetic test strips over the telephone. When I get home from work, I’m fucking exhausted. I keep telling myself at work that I’m going to write more songs, write more stories, work on a book, get into photography, find a new girlfriend, and so forth. Instead, I play on the Internet, send a few emails, watch a few videos, eat some food, and fall asleep with my dick in my hand.

In our rich society, upward movement isn’t limited by war, poverty, disease, famine, politics. Well, not so much. Then the only thing stopping you from becoming rich, powerful, famous, in love, or whatever else you desire, is your own ability to get up and DO IT.

People are moved by action. Like this blog, writing it makes me feel accomplished. The thought that someone might read it, and enjoy the crazy shit that comes out of my head…that makes me feel happy.

Doing things….do it.

If you read this blog, all your dreams will come true

Sometimes you just need to write.

I normally use this site to provide value, Other times; mental masturbation: random drivel, designed to re-wire the readers perception. “The time for action is tomorrow!”

I’ll lay down some fiction.

The Egyptian fire zebra never mates until high noon, as the expulsion of sweat provides great pleasure to the beast.

See, that’s nuts, and by no means a reflection of the author’s personality--totally not mental masturbation.

This is mental masturbation: The news, bad tv, war, homophobia, racism, kidnapping, globalization, misogyny, history, etc. The list goes on. It’s time to move on people. Feel the power.

Get political, get romantic. Choose a cause, grab your weapon and hold tight your lover…bliss.

I figure being happy means taking your fantasies, and terraforming them into reality. Like if you dream about looking good: buy some new clothes, if you feel like ice cream: go to Dairy Queen. No, no that quote is no good. Forget everything I just said.

We all do it; mental masturbation. The trick is to catch yourself in the act, and harness that knowledge for personal growth. I grow by having you read totally weird and pointless blog posts.

Never rely on someone else’s fiction for fact finding. Experience doesn’t lie.

“Don’t believe the hype.” Anne Frank.

Winter for everyone

The great thing about winter
No guilty apathy
No Dichotomy Dictosaurus
Will change my mind
You’re not my Dad!

I enjoy a cold romp
Farting around in the mush
Good excuse to get drunk
There always is
Dude

Aliens

They’re everywhere, though some say they aren’t

Fuck them

Saucers, spheres, globes, orbs, cylinders, triangles, ovals

Every shape and size

All colours

They float

Some fear, others worship

Sacrifice?

I hope not

Bill Clinton wonders

But he never found out

In Belgium, thousands saw giant triangles

Over a period of days, they floated

Shining their lights, in big triangular ways

And humans, with their little triangular prayers

The government sent two f-16 jets to kill it

But the triangles--they darted around

Teasing the stupid humans

Mock speed

And the glorious Belgian’s, they told everyone

That was nice of them

Probings…we fear the probe

Anus, aliens

Sightings from thousands of years ago

On cave walls

Tom Cruise knows they exist, why doesn’t Katie?

Do it for the baby Katie…the baby!

And still we wait, procrastinate

Infrared is the way, the geeks say

Switch it on, on your camera

The button is right there, no right there fuck

The button won’t do your homework

It might however, let you make a better sex tape than Paris

Or see the aliens

At night, they might land behind your barn

If you have a barn, who does?

Not since industrialization

If they leave a pattern in your crops

Don’t worry

They will grow back next season

With the help of modern chemicals

You can still make mortgage if Henry gets another job

Just for a little while

The cows were mutilated

That’s ok; Burger King is just down the street

Right beside Future Shop

There is much to be said on aliens

They probably make nature shows, about us

We’re silly

And they float

What have you done?

Hamsters of doom

I was just thinking about life, and our need for exercise.

The Hamster wheel is a prison wheel. Free the Hamster, and you free yourself. Seriously.