22.8.13
Much more effective E cig promo. Jenny McCarthy sits at the bar,uncrosses her legs & pulls a cig out of her vaj seconds after she punches the bartender in the throat for snide Jim Carey remark. Bartender apologizes as he collapses for dramatic effect. Camera pans to Jenny calmly smoking a cig as she walks by several people trying to resuscitate an unconscious Stephen Dorff...who had been found laying face down in one of the urinals.
29.4.13
"Copulate. Or, Ed Sullivan."
52 hours later and the words are still echoing in my brain. "...you were a...mistake." I could feel the blood drain from my face.It was a shocking, though somewhat humorous revelation. "Thanks dad."
Let me backtrack a little bit. I had lunch with my father earlier this week. He was in my neighborhood,so naturally he called & asked if I wanted to grab a bite to eat. Normally I would have declined,made up some excuse-such as "Sorry. On my way to a Bible burning ceremony." Or some other illicit activity he would think that I would participate in. Unfortunately I was hungry, & at that moment my other alternatives were 3 teaspoons of peanut butter,one piece of bread,half a box of Booberry cereal,or a questionable frozen steak. (I always put off going grocery shopping till the very last minute.) So,I hesitantly accepted his offer.
In retrospect, peanut butter & steak would have been the wiser choice.
To say that my father and I have varying opinions on things would be an understatement. We are polar opposites in every conceivable way. He's religious. I'm...not. He thinks that homosexuality is an illness,a spiritual plague of some sort,which inevitably (upon death) would result in burning "in a lake of fire."
You can see now as to my lunch date hesitation.
I've never been close with my father. Since I can recall,I've avoided him like the black plague. For many reasons (which I won't delve into.) Actually,the black plague would have been welcomed at many points in my childhood. He was an exceptional provider for my family and I. Monetarily. Sharp contrast in my parental figures. Thankfully my mother more than made up for his shortcomings. She was perfection personified.
Anyhow,fast forwarding decades later. Our waitress seated us next to a window overlooking the lake.
The setting was mind-numbingly tranquil. There I was,sitting across from him. My father. The man that at so many times in my life I had feared (partly because he had been such a strict disciplinarian.) Now-present day,he's incredibly feeble. Frail. A strong gust of wind could knock him over. His short term memory, questionable. More than likely an on slot of dementia or Altz.
The waitress had already taken our order as my father relayed to me how to distinguish a great restaurant from a mediocre one. "The napkins" he said. "Look at the napkins." He then unfolded his napkin that looked as if it had been masterfully formed ever so delicately into the shape of,what appeared to be a swan."Linen napkins." He approvingly exclaimed as he placed it onto his lap. "Linen. Napkins."
Our waitress finally brought our drinks over to us. As he stirred his coffee,he recounted his time in the Navy,as well as hypothesising as to why the world was "going to hell"-which segwayed into when he had "found god."(A misplaced deity?) He weaved in and out of topics as my mind wandered off. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Or self imposed,selective A.D.D.
Our waitress sauntered by several times,asking if we had needed anything. "More bread?" I was thinking more along the lines of a fully loaded revolver (with the safety off), preferably aimed at my temple,in lieu of the rolls. I chuckled to myself at the mere notion as I stared out the window. There was a lone boat out on the water,probably 50 yards out. I watched the man who appeared to be alone,cast out his fishing line.
Not another soul around him.
Lucky bastard.
The strikingly beautiful waitress who had been waiting on the table adjacent to us caught my attention.I swear her cleavage had been beckoning me. She slightly resembled an ex of mine. So, yet again my mind trailed off. Before I knew it,our waitress had returned & asked if we had wanted a refill on our drinks. I declined as I nodded my head in acknowledgement of the story my father was recalling. Some story which included the words "burning." "Eternity." & "repent." The story I had pretended to have been listening to the entire time as the waitress poured him another steaming hot cup of coffee. I watched the steam,which was perfectly aligned with his face,dissipate into the air. The illusion of eye contact.
"Yup. I'm listening dad. So. Engrossed."
My sister texting me info on where to meet for her birthday the next day was the catalyst for this great revelation of my father's. I replied to my sisters text as my father took another few sips of his coffee & fumbled for his wallet. There is about a decade age difference between my sisters and I,which he started to point out. "Yes dad. I'm aware." The waitress came by once again & asked if we would like dessert,or if we had needed anything else. My father then gestured for the check.
Dessert? I'd prefer a cyanide capsule. Or,perhaps a noose constructed out of those fancy linen napkins.
"Yeah,you're nearly a decade apart from your sisters. Know why?" For some reason I assumed it was a rhetorical question,until he asked me again. I was suspicious of the tone of which he was asking,yet I still responded. "No dad. Enlighten me." He then smiled,as if he had just given the punchline to a dirty joke. "You...were a mistake." He then elaborated & said that I probably wouldn't even be here now,(as in EXISTING)-if a certain baseball game had been televised. So,basically he just revealed that my mother and he had fucked,simply because there was nothing else to watch on tv.
Copulate. Or,watch Ed Sullivan.
"Waitress. I'll take that cynanide capsule now. PLEASE."
I know that he didn't say it with malicious intent. It sounded more like an odd confession. It took me a minute or so to respond. "Really. Thanks for sharing this with me dad." (Loosely translated): "thanks for....validating the tone I knew had been set for my life."
We headed out into the parking lot. Neither of us spoke. As he made his way over to his truck,he looked over his shoulder at me & said what he alway's says to me at the conclusion of a visit.
"Bye,daughter. I'll pray for you."
As I drove home I thought to myself. "There are a few lessons to be learned here."
One. Always check the caller i.d. on your phone before answering it.
Two. When asked a question you probably don't want to know the answer to,create a diversion of some sort in lieu of responding to said question. Drop to the floor,curl up in the fetal position & pretend to go into a grand maul seizure. Or. Something a little less dramatic.
Three. Acquire a taste for peanut butter & steak.
Let me backtrack a little bit. I had lunch with my father earlier this week. He was in my neighborhood,so naturally he called & asked if I wanted to grab a bite to eat. Normally I would have declined,made up some excuse-such as "Sorry. On my way to a Bible burning ceremony." Or some other illicit activity he would think that I would participate in. Unfortunately I was hungry, & at that moment my other alternatives were 3 teaspoons of peanut butter,one piece of bread,half a box of Booberry cereal,or a questionable frozen steak. (I always put off going grocery shopping till the very last minute.) So,I hesitantly accepted his offer.
In retrospect, peanut butter & steak would have been the wiser choice.
To say that my father and I have varying opinions on things would be an understatement. We are polar opposites in every conceivable way. He's religious. I'm...not. He thinks that homosexuality is an illness,a spiritual plague of some sort,which inevitably (upon death) would result in burning "in a lake of fire."
You can see now as to my lunch date hesitation.
I've never been close with my father. Since I can recall,I've avoided him like the black plague. For many reasons (which I won't delve into.) Actually,the black plague would have been welcomed at many points in my childhood. He was an exceptional provider for my family and I. Monetarily. Sharp contrast in my parental figures. Thankfully my mother more than made up for his shortcomings. She was perfection personified.
Anyhow,fast forwarding decades later. Our waitress seated us next to a window overlooking the lake.
The setting was mind-numbingly tranquil. There I was,sitting across from him. My father. The man that at so many times in my life I had feared (partly because he had been such a strict disciplinarian.) Now-present day,he's incredibly feeble. Frail. A strong gust of wind could knock him over. His short term memory, questionable. More than likely an on slot of dementia or Altz.
The waitress had already taken our order as my father relayed to me how to distinguish a great restaurant from a mediocre one. "The napkins" he said. "Look at the napkins." He then unfolded his napkin that looked as if it had been masterfully formed ever so delicately into the shape of,what appeared to be a swan."Linen napkins." He approvingly exclaimed as he placed it onto his lap. "Linen. Napkins."
Our waitress finally brought our drinks over to us. As he stirred his coffee,he recounted his time in the Navy,as well as hypothesising as to why the world was "going to hell"-which segwayed into when he had "found god."(A misplaced deity?) He weaved in and out of topics as my mind wandered off. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Or self imposed,selective A.D.D.
Our waitress sauntered by several times,asking if we had needed anything. "More bread?" I was thinking more along the lines of a fully loaded revolver (with the safety off), preferably aimed at my temple,in lieu of the rolls. I chuckled to myself at the mere notion as I stared out the window. There was a lone boat out on the water,probably 50 yards out. I watched the man who appeared to be alone,cast out his fishing line.
Not another soul around him.
Lucky bastard.
The strikingly beautiful waitress who had been waiting on the table adjacent to us caught my attention.I swear her cleavage had been beckoning me. She slightly resembled an ex of mine. So, yet again my mind trailed off. Before I knew it,our waitress had returned & asked if we had wanted a refill on our drinks. I declined as I nodded my head in acknowledgement of the story my father was recalling. Some story which included the words "burning." "Eternity." & "repent." The story I had pretended to have been listening to the entire time as the waitress poured him another steaming hot cup of coffee. I watched the steam,which was perfectly aligned with his face,dissipate into the air. The illusion of eye contact.
"Yup. I'm listening dad. So. Engrossed."
My sister texting me info on where to meet for her birthday the next day was the catalyst for this great revelation of my father's. I replied to my sisters text as my father took another few sips of his coffee & fumbled for his wallet. There is about a decade age difference between my sisters and I,which he started to point out. "Yes dad. I'm aware." The waitress came by once again & asked if we would like dessert,or if we had needed anything else. My father then gestured for the check.
Dessert? I'd prefer a cyanide capsule. Or,perhaps a noose constructed out of those fancy linen napkins.
"Yeah,you're nearly a decade apart from your sisters. Know why?" For some reason I assumed it was a rhetorical question,until he asked me again. I was suspicious of the tone of which he was asking,yet I still responded. "No dad. Enlighten me." He then smiled,as if he had just given the punchline to a dirty joke. "You...were a mistake." He then elaborated & said that I probably wouldn't even be here now,(as in EXISTING)-if a certain baseball game had been televised. So,basically he just revealed that my mother and he had fucked,simply because there was nothing else to watch on tv.
Copulate. Or,watch Ed Sullivan.
"Waitress. I'll take that cynanide capsule now. PLEASE."
I know that he didn't say it with malicious intent. It sounded more like an odd confession. It took me a minute or so to respond. "Really. Thanks for sharing this with me dad." (Loosely translated): "thanks for....validating the tone I knew had been set for my life."
We headed out into the parking lot. Neither of us spoke. As he made his way over to his truck,he looked over his shoulder at me & said what he alway's says to me at the conclusion of a visit.
"Bye,daughter. I'll pray for you."
As I drove home I thought to myself. "There are a few lessons to be learned here."
One. Always check the caller i.d. on your phone before answering it.
Two. When asked a question you probably don't want to know the answer to,create a diversion of some sort in lieu of responding to said question. Drop to the floor,curl up in the fetal position & pretend to go into a grand maul seizure. Or. Something a little less dramatic.
Three. Acquire a taste for peanut butter & steak.
31.12.12
New Years Eve Rant
Most people are epically delusional on NYE. They think that as soon as the clock strikes midnight-they will be reborn.
Problems will dissipate. The world will collectively wrap its arms around them,&welcome them into the dawning of a new year. HoneyBooBoo will fade into oblivion. Gay marriage will be legalized. Journalistic integrity won't just be a concept. Celebs will stop whining&broadcasting their issues,(especially relating to their kids)-on their social media sites.
It's up to YOU to make the changes of which you wish to see,then hopefully-ripple effect.
So "happy" pre-New Year.
Now if only the rest of the universe shared in the beliefs of this fury little creature i.e. cartoon deity of infinite wisdom.
23.12.12
"Look To The (Junior) Mint"
Kramer & Jerry are up in the viewing gallery of an operating room. Kramer offers Jerry a junior mint-which he adamantly refuses. Kramer repeatedly insists & ends up shoving the mint in Jerry's face- which results in Jerry pushing Kramer's arm away-casting the "oh so delicious" mint up into the air...then...what goes up...(in slow motion) they both watch the mint land inside the open chest cavity of the patient below.
Perfect metaphor for life.
The patient represents life. My life. Your life. &the unforeseen-the (supposed) proverbial monkey wrench-?
In this case it's a......junior mint.
Somehow,the mint ended up saving that person's life. Far fetched,indeed-however...as much as art imitates life,often times...life can in fact imitate art.
What is seemingly a catastrophic occurrence,may in fact be a "blessing" in disguise.
Unfortunately when we're in the moment,we don't have the luxury of retrospect.
Sometimes a visual representation of this philosophy is needed.
So.
Thank you Jerry,&Larry David.
As the junior mints accumulate inside of my chest cavity-melting & inevitably fusing together aortic valves etc. causing what would seem to be irreversible damage...
I have to believe that somewhere in the future,this chocolate clusterfuck of a catastrophe may in fact benefit me somehow.
20.12.12
"aaaaand CUT"
Scoff if you will,but the majority of "reality shows" out there nowadays seem far more disingenuous.
What fueled this show were the dynamics,the combustible chemistry between the cast members.
Bringing to life the notion,the idea of someone envisioned in the mind of some deranged Hollywood writer,&portraying them with such intense conviction-is not something many present day actors can pull off. At least not convincingly. My hats off to the cast (and crew) of this show.
As if the complexity of the character Dexter wasn't enough,the insatiable thirst for more was thankfully quenched fairly soon in the 1st season with the revelation of the alter ego of Dexter's,that only the genius of Michael C. Hall could bring to light. Figuratively speaking. His "dark passenger."
Strangely likeable,and dare I say-often relatable.
In this last season, Dexter projected the image of himself,how he felt others would view him,(his true being)-onto his sister Deb. (Played by the extraordinary Jennifer Carpenter.) It was as if he presented that part of himself,(his dark passenger)to her as a way of personally coping with it.
Sometimes strength can be found in the deflection of weakness.
Interwoven throughout the series was an underlying message of the importance of (self) acceptance,and what that entails. Also the contemplation of giving up a part of oneself,in order to gain the acceptance of others. I believe that each of us,if not on a conscious level-(then definitely on a subconscious level) is actually yearning for the acceptance of just one particular individual. Fortunately for Dexter,he finally found that acceptance from the one person he had sought it from since the beginning.
Himself.
I'm going to miss this fucking show.
In conclusion. A proper sendoff. Much like one of Dex's "victims."
So. I shall wrap this up...
with heavy duty plastic wrap...
where it will inevitably end up at the bottom of the ocean...
or...
your...
timeline.
10.12.11
"Fate&Twinkies" (What. U don't see the correlation??)
There is an underlying meaning to everything.
One of my fave movies was on again last night. "Zombieland."
If you're not familiar with this flick-lemme give you a brief synopsis of it.
Throughout the movie PEOPLE ARE BEING CHASED BY ZOMBIES. Ya that about sums it up. (or does it).
Despite this-Woody Harrelson's characters main concern was......finding some TWINKIES.
This was his main quest. Twinkies were his nirvana.
This spongy yellow dye#5 cream filled treat was his sought after tranquility.
Not even a legion of flesh eating ghouls were going to stop him from acquiring what he so longed for.
Made me think.
Isn't that what we all are doing to some extent-elbowing "zombies" in the face etc. on a daily basis-tryin' to get to our "twinkie."
OUR BLISS.
The moral of this post is...
NEVER LOSE SIGHT OF YOUR "TWINKIE"...
One of my fave movies was on again last night. "Zombieland."
If you're not familiar with this flick-lemme give you a brief synopsis of it.
Throughout the movie PEOPLE ARE BEING CHASED BY ZOMBIES. Ya that about sums it up. (or does it).
Despite this-Woody Harrelson's characters main concern was......finding some TWINKIES.
This was his main quest. Twinkies were his nirvana.
This spongy yellow dye#5 cream filled treat was his sought after tranquility.
Not even a legion of flesh eating ghouls were going to stop him from acquiring what he so longed for.
Made me think.
Isn't that what we all are doing to some extent-elbowing "zombies" in the face etc. on a daily basis-tryin' to get to our "twinkie."
OUR BLISS.
The moral of this post is...
NEVER LOSE SIGHT OF YOUR "TWINKIE"...
27.9.11
"Contemplations..."
Wandering aimlessly through the streets-head tilted to the side. Contemplative glares. Black crow perched atop my shoulder-pecking mercilessly at my neck. Mumbling random William Blake quotes at the random passerby,as I dab the splotch of blood that trickled down my neck with a Kleenex. I scoffed at the supposed beauty of nature...of love...of.......
Somehow I found myself in an abandoned library,on the outskirts of town. I was drawn to a section of the room by a force I have yet to fully comprehend. A magnetic pull of sorts. As I knelt down,the floor creaked beneath me.The building looked &felt as if it had been built in the 19th century. Very unsettling.
I grabbed the last book that was on the last shelf. It was covered in filth,cobwebs &dirt. I read a few sentences here&there, but only one really captured my attention. A passage about how love was much like the sun.
When you expose yourself to such an element, you subject yourself to harmful effects not immediately felt or observed. At first,the warmth on your face is soothing,maybe even slightly euphoric. The pores of your skin willingly soaking in the Vitamin D;but prolonged exposure could cause irreversible damage.
Equating love to a carcinogen.
Seemed to make perfect sense to me.
Also, logic would dictate that if you were to get too close to it-before your brain would even have time to comprehend the magnitude of the extreme heat you were experiencing,you would have already turned into a pile of ashes.
Irreversible damage.
I flipped through the book,coughing each time I turned a page from the cloud of dust that emitted from within the pages. I wondered if that same philosophy applied to the opposite end of the spectrum. Some plant and even animal life thrive in the darkness,thousands of meters underneath the water. At the bottom of seemingly endless caverns. I then thought to myself,am I a cave dweller-an amoeba dependant on the darkness to maintain normalcy...comfort-or am I subconsciously longing for the UV rays I so feared?
The lone lightbulb that swayed above me flickered on&off for a few seconds as I contemplated this. Maybe there was a happy medium. Happy being the operative word. Do I thrive in the blackness. Or do I wilt in the sunlight.
Before I placed the book back onto the shelf,amidst books by Poe,Shakespeare-I ripped out several pages & crumpled them up into my coat pocket.
I sat on the front stoop for a bit,watching the moths flutter into the light that cascaded down from the only working lampost in the entire parking lot.
Maybe my life,(or life in general) is just a series of guided &misguided steps down the road toward our destiny;&maybe love isn't supposed to be found. Maybe it's supposed to be realized.
Or maybe I had just inhaled enough dust to have euthanized a small farm animal.
Somehow I found myself in an abandoned library,on the outskirts of town. I was drawn to a section of the room by a force I have yet to fully comprehend. A magnetic pull of sorts. As I knelt down,the floor creaked beneath me.The building looked &felt as if it had been built in the 19th century. Very unsettling.
I grabbed the last book that was on the last shelf. It was covered in filth,cobwebs &dirt. I read a few sentences here&there, but only one really captured my attention. A passage about how love was much like the sun.
When you expose yourself to such an element, you subject yourself to harmful effects not immediately felt or observed. At first,the warmth on your face is soothing,maybe even slightly euphoric. The pores of your skin willingly soaking in the Vitamin D;but prolonged exposure could cause irreversible damage.
Equating love to a carcinogen.
Seemed to make perfect sense to me.
Also, logic would dictate that if you were to get too close to it-before your brain would even have time to comprehend the magnitude of the extreme heat you were experiencing,you would have already turned into a pile of ashes.
Irreversible damage.
I flipped through the book,coughing each time I turned a page from the cloud of dust that emitted from within the pages. I wondered if that same philosophy applied to the opposite end of the spectrum. Some plant and even animal life thrive in the darkness,thousands of meters underneath the water. At the bottom of seemingly endless caverns. I then thought to myself,am I a cave dweller-an amoeba dependant on the darkness to maintain normalcy...comfort-or am I subconsciously longing for the UV rays I so feared?
The lone lightbulb that swayed above me flickered on&off for a few seconds as I contemplated this. Maybe there was a happy medium. Happy being the operative word. Do I thrive in the blackness. Or do I wilt in the sunlight.
Before I placed the book back onto the shelf,amidst books by Poe,Shakespeare-I ripped out several pages & crumpled them up into my coat pocket.
I sat on the front stoop for a bit,watching the moths flutter into the light that cascaded down from the only working lampost in the entire parking lot.
Maybe my life,(or life in general) is just a series of guided &misguided steps down the road toward our destiny;&maybe love isn't supposed to be found. Maybe it's supposed to be realized.
Or maybe I had just inhaled enough dust to have euthanized a small farm animal.
17.12.10
*All content (&images that are specified were created by A.M.)are copyrighted. ⒶмüηṧTεя 2011™*
......the children rushed out into the street,wide eyed & horrified;shimmery candycane colored bløød collected in a pool at their feet. The sleigh lay overturned in the middle of the road. Presents encircled it as if it was some sort of a ritualistic sacrificial offering. The reindeers shivered from fright,huddled together by the lampost ~ in the dead of nite.
The grandma from that holiday song finally sought her revenge......
17.11.10
"Weightless"
The winds have changed the course of my direction;&the waters of the ocean no longer carries my reflection.
The moonlight stains the surface of the water...pierces through and illuminates all that is beneath me.
The depth of a moment,of a memory
&words that once held meaning~have all become...
mysteries.
16.11.10
"Ode to the Sauce"
It is that time of year again-the time that I fear. The time that I dread. It is...
THE SEASON OF THE SAUCE. When cranberry sauce runs rampant in the streets,conning its way into households under the guise of being a Thanksgiving day feast necessity. It looks funny,tastes funny-its a vile wobbly purple disaster. It upsets me to even glance in its direction. The devils creation. Its EVIL~& I swear that it nearly mugged me in a parking lot once.
THE SEASON OF THE SAUCE. When cranberry sauce runs rampant in the streets,conning its way into households under the guise of being a Thanksgiving day feast necessity. It looks funny,tastes funny-its a vile wobbly purple disaster. It upsets me to even glance in its direction. The devils creation. Its EVIL~& I swear that it nearly mugged me in a parking lot once.
Once its freed from its confines,it wobbles out of the can,almost mockingly...freeing itself in a final act of desperation. It bares its scars proudly,those can indentations...the markings of a tortured existance. Images that are permanently seared into my brain. When the light shines onto it,it glistens &at times even has a reflective property to it. This is to lure you into a false sense of security,by its seemingly tranquil appearance. It will swallow up your reflection within itself, in its purple hue and if it could~it would swallow your soul as well. If not fully content with your soul,it would then devour you whole,leaving behind lil wobbly purple remnants in its wake.
So this Thanksgiving,I implore you~if you find that cranberry sauce is anywhere within your immediate vicinity~please,for the love of god...DO NOT turn your back to it.
Do not poke at it with your fork,or any other type of sharp instrument,because in an act of defiance it will overtake you.
In all honesty,it really doesnt matter if you jab it,slice it,or ignore it. It is cranberry sauce-thus...you will inevitably succumb to it. So have a"happy thanksgiving" or the polar opposite...a "depressive ungrateful taking" day.
Enjoy your feasts...and remember,heed my warning. When it comes to the sauce...proceed with caution.
In all honesty,it really doesnt matter if you jab it,slice it,or ignore it. It is cranberry sauce-thus...you will inevitably succumb to it. So have a"happy thanksgiving" or the polar opposite...a "depressive ungrateful taking" day.
Enjoy your feasts...and remember,heed my warning. When it comes to the sauce...proceed with caution.
The moonlight casts shadows that seem to swallow up everything within' the room. The wind of the tortured souls howls with a vengeance.....
& as those spirits loom,I realize that I as well may soon be stirring around in that breeze....this I presume~based upon the growing puddle at my feet.
14.11.10
"Destroy the Machine"
The images in this video evoke such profound thoughts&memories;of innocence,connectedness...curiosity. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMosGgwwKfM
If you limit yourself to the confines of "the known"~you will never have an appreciation for anything other than what is familiar to you~&that can be asphyxiating.
DESTROY THE MACHINE.
BREATHE.
We are conditioned. We are manipulated. We are brainwashed.
As a culture. As a society. As individuals.
As a result,some seek solace in religion. Others may find it at the bottom of a beer bottle,or perhaps within the beauty of a painting. "Seek and ye shall find"...as they say~or in some cases,"Seek and ye shall be FOUND."
I am plagued with insomnia,so its not uncommon to find me sprawled out on my couch watching documentaries into the early morning hours. Last week I had stumbled upon a documentary about the Jonestown Massacre. Hundreds of people {under the control of their leader,Jim Jones} retreated to South America,cultivated uninhabitable land into a mini community~all under the pretense that they were doing"God's work." Shortly thereafter they willingly drank koolaid which contained cyanide. Same pretense.
So many ponderings. What were these people running away from? Or were they running toward something? Did they knowingly allow themselves to be taken advantage of?
They were all mechanisms. All working in accordance to power the machine of this madman's every whim,which inevitably sealed their own fate.
These same questions can be posed to other "escapes."
If you want to alleviate the intense throbbing of reality,submerge yourself in religion. (said with immense sarcasm). I suppose you could ingest mind altering/numbing substances as well~but,these options are equivalent to giving a blind man a loaded shotgun&telling him its a walking stick.
We were DESIGNED to FEEL.
Destroy. The. Machine.
If you limit yourself to the confines of "the known"~you will never have an appreciation for anything other than what is familiar to you~&that can be asphyxiating.
DESTROY THE MACHINE.
BREATHE.
We are conditioned. We are manipulated. We are brainwashed.
As a culture. As a society. As individuals.
As a result,some seek solace in religion. Others may find it at the bottom of a beer bottle,or perhaps within the beauty of a painting. "Seek and ye shall find"...as they say~or in some cases,"Seek and ye shall be FOUND."
I am plagued with insomnia,so its not uncommon to find me sprawled out on my couch watching documentaries into the early morning hours. Last week I had stumbled upon a documentary about the Jonestown Massacre. Hundreds of people {under the control of their leader,Jim Jones} retreated to South America,cultivated uninhabitable land into a mini community~all under the pretense that they were doing"God's work." Shortly thereafter they willingly drank koolaid which contained cyanide. Same pretense.
So many ponderings. What were these people running away from? Or were they running toward something? Did they knowingly allow themselves to be taken advantage of?
They were all mechanisms. All working in accordance to power the machine of this madman's every whim,which inevitably sealed their own fate.
These same questions can be posed to other "escapes."
If you want to alleviate the intense throbbing of reality,submerge yourself in religion. (said with immense sarcasm). I suppose you could ingest mind altering/numbing substances as well~but,these options are equivalent to giving a blind man a loaded shotgun&telling him its a walking stick.
We were DESIGNED to FEEL.
Destroy. The. Machine.
13.11.10
12.11.10
“Silence is Golden”
...she was an experiment gone awry, inside of a deranged Romanian scientist’s underground lab,many centuries ago. The scientist wanted to instill in her the power of the unspoken word,so he decided to withhold the implantation of her vocal chords. There was a possibility in the distant future that he would bestow upon her this gift,the gift of a voice~but not until she fully understood the value of SILENCE.
The lab was dimly lit,with just a dozen or so candles scattered around;an array of misshapen test tubes lined the cobweb encrusted walls~casting what seemed to be endless shadows that appeared to engulf her. Swallowing her up in a shroud of blackness.
The shadows were her only companions;at first she was fearful,and dreaded the mid afternoon,when the shadows would appear~but within a few weeks she greatly anticipated and welcomed the darkened images. The scientist,her creator~seldomly ventured down into his lab,but his presence was always looming within those shadows.
One day she had noticed a lone window off in the corner,which was coated with dirt and cobwebs,and what appeared to be spider eggs. The webs clung to the windowpane,like macabre curtains-swaying back and forth from the draft emitting from the cracks in the walls. Dozens of perfectly aligned shimmery spider eggs glistened in the sunlight; rows and rows of baby spiders just waiting to emerge. Aside from the mad scientist,there was nothing she feared more than the spiders that crept around in the lab. In the evening she could hear them scurrying around,in search of food~or a new nesting place. On several occasions she had awoken in the middle of the night to find dozens of them spinning their webs around her toes.
It took a few days,but one morning she finally summoned up the courage to brush the cobwebs away from the windowpane;she grabbed one of the empty test tubes, and with every bit of strength that she had within her,she hoisted herself up onto the window ledge. She then brushed the test tube across the glass,slowly gathering up the cobwebs.
Within moments the lab was flooded with sunlight. She peered through the glass,somewhat hesitantly;her eyes widened in astonishment at the vision that was before her,of the sprawling manor. It was extraordinary. A sight of which she knew she would never experience. Rolling hills,willow trees and an overgrown field that seemed to stretch on endlessly. She closed her eyes tightly and envisioned herself frolicking in the overgrown field,the grass tickling her cheeks as she ran through it.
With the exception of the spiders,the insects became welcomed friends. They had their own little world within hers. To her,the insects werent creepy crawly monsters like how she viewed the spiders,but rather~they were glorious specimens of nature,possibly inhabitants of the overgrown field. MAGICAL and surreal.
The ladybugs twirled their tiny sun umbrellas in unison while dancing on the flower petals;illuminated by the sun,a golden aura encompassed them and seemed to animate them. She pressed her nose up against the glass and gazed at them for hours;if she had the strength, she would have smashed the glass and escaped...but where would she have escaped to? This was all she had ever known.
Winter had approached as quickly as summer,and enveloped the field in a blanket of white. The icicles encased the wilting tree branches,constricting their growth as they helplessly dangled in the wind;she couldn’t help but think what a perfect visual depiction that was of her situation, and it was inevitable; sooner or later those branches would break and that ice would shatter.
The silence had become too overwhelming. She bit down on her lower lip,hard enough to draw blood~ and repeatedly traced the outline of the sun she had smeared onto the window with her index finger just a few days prior.
The next morning the mad scientist walked down the stairs that led down into the dungeon,and was instantly overcome with the frigid air of winter; the floor was sparkling with broken glass,right below the window. Just beyond that window,were footprints in the snow. Footprints that led toward the overgrown field. Toward FREEDOM.
10.10.10
My kingdom,my kingdom for a large vanilla chai!!! Oh yummy magically delicious vanilla goodness,I long to flip open the plastic top of which keeps you contained,&feel the steam rise up in an act of defiance & warm my face...
Oh Dunkins. The mystical place of enchantment,where your dreams are liquified into a slurpee-like fashion&your desires,cinnamon glazed.
I am longing for your chai...
10.9.10
"Mental Excavation"
...gently chipping away at your psyche to reveal the underlayers,your inner workings;are you insane,perfectly sane and misunderstood,or are you even beyond the realm of analysis.
Dust particles float,and seem to dance around in the beam of sunlight that is exposing your darkest secrets;the secrets that are noticeably shuttering from their revelation. Secrets that have long been buried,hidden deep within' you,deep within' the blackened chasm of your soul.
As they say,"still waters run deep"~and I'm certain most people have chosen to just skip stones across your surface,inevitably getting caught up in the ripple effect~and not exploring further. Leaving the depth of you a mystery.
I can see the beauty of the surrounding trees reflecting on the surface of the water as I stand at an arm’s length away. Hidden within the shadows,beyond the trees;because I,unlike those that had preceded me~am quite aware of the mystery that lies within' you.
(inspired by L.A.B.)
As they say,"still waters run deep"~and I'm certain most people have chosen to just skip stones across your surface,inevitably getting caught up in the ripple effect~and not exploring further. Leaving the depth of you a mystery.
I can see the beauty of the surrounding trees reflecting on the surface of the water as I stand at an arm’s length away. Hidden within the shadows,beyond the trees;because I,unlike those that had preceded me~am quite aware of the mystery that lies within' you.
(inspired by L.A.B.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)