The screen said
create.
so i sat staring
Anyone can poke a hole
in the open sky and paint the flow
of color that rushes through
the empty nature of art
Very few are those who
watch the colors they once knew
Sit beside, afraid to see
what will become of their trade.
Like a lake once dammed but now free
the sky bleeds out. Some can see
like the fish left behind, it cries.
They cry too, They'd rather die
Than see the sky fall!
Those who watched
Rise and Breath
The weight of atlas
falls to their feet
And from inside themselves
Where no one sees
They bring out in joy
the sadness they keep.
Then it seemed
The whole world did speak
And I heard them go
I heard them leave
And I knew it then
to watch and wait
to quit poking holes
to bear the weight
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Chapter 10
By the time Thomas left France for good, he was fluent in French, which was ironic because it would do him next to no good in North America. But I still envy him because I wish I could speak it.
On his trip home, Thomas had a layover in New York of about 6 hours. This is because he didn't make much money moving large rocks so he had to take the cheapest flight he could find. There were no movies on this flight, but that was ok with Thomas. He slept for the first half of the flight. What wasn't ok with Thomas was that there were a few instances in which he experienced level 8 turbulence. This woke him up, and kept him awake.
He was in a bad mood when he reached New York, and his eyes were bloodshot, and his contacts had dried up so he had to wear his glasses.
Since he had a 6-hour layover, he decided to leave the airport and walk around the city a little bit. He hoped to find good cheap food, which he heard was easy to find in New York.
A concierge at a nearby hotel recommended a Sports Bar that was within walking distance she said had delicious burgers.
She, like most Americans, was overweight.
Thomas took her word for it.
Thomas hadn't had a cheeseburger in a long time that wasn't McDonald's, and that brightened his mood.
Of course, the bar was a front for Randal's son's Underground Indie Hub.
Sports Bars tend to be things that Indie people don't like. And that is why Randal's son can brag that his Indie Hub is 'Underground'
It also has a really cool trap door that goes underground.
At least I think it's really cool. You'll have to find out yourself if it actually is cool. But instead of being hinged, it sinks when you step on it and it slowly lowers you down about the speed Han Solo gets lowered when he gets frozen in carbonate.
As it were, while Thomas was eating his burger, he had a house beer that was pretty good. By this time, Thomas was 24.
He went to go talk to the bartender about the beer, because he literally had nothing better to do and he was lonely.
The bartender tricked Thomas into stepping onto the trap door. Thomas was surprised, but not as surprised as he was interested by the trap doors function, so he rode it down.
The bartender often tricked people with the trap door, he was kind of pathetic that way.
Thomas watched Cederstrom that evening, he thought they were pretty damn good. He also thought that Katie was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Far more beautiful than Clair, and she was better looking than Katie by any rational standards.
He got way too drunk and forgot about his flight to Canada.
This story is a bit too predictable. And yet, sometimes, life is too.
On his trip home, Thomas had a layover in New York of about 6 hours. This is because he didn't make much money moving large rocks so he had to take the cheapest flight he could find. There were no movies on this flight, but that was ok with Thomas. He slept for the first half of the flight. What wasn't ok with Thomas was that there were a few instances in which he experienced level 8 turbulence. This woke him up, and kept him awake.
He was in a bad mood when he reached New York, and his eyes were bloodshot, and his contacts had dried up so he had to wear his glasses.
Since he had a 6-hour layover, he decided to leave the airport and walk around the city a little bit. He hoped to find good cheap food, which he heard was easy to find in New York.
A concierge at a nearby hotel recommended a Sports Bar that was within walking distance she said had delicious burgers.
She, like most Americans, was overweight.
Thomas took her word for it.
Thomas hadn't had a cheeseburger in a long time that wasn't McDonald's, and that brightened his mood.
Of course, the bar was a front for Randal's son's Underground Indie Hub.
Sports Bars tend to be things that Indie people don't like. And that is why Randal's son can brag that his Indie Hub is 'Underground'
It also has a really cool trap door that goes underground.
At least I think it's really cool. You'll have to find out yourself if it actually is cool. But instead of being hinged, it sinks when you step on it and it slowly lowers you down about the speed Han Solo gets lowered when he gets frozen in carbonate.
As it were, while Thomas was eating his burger, he had a house beer that was pretty good. By this time, Thomas was 24.
He went to go talk to the bartender about the beer, because he literally had nothing better to do and he was lonely.
The bartender tricked Thomas into stepping onto the trap door. Thomas was surprised, but not as surprised as he was interested by the trap doors function, so he rode it down.
The bartender often tricked people with the trap door, he was kind of pathetic that way.
Thomas watched Cederstrom that evening, he thought they were pretty damn good. He also thought that Katie was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Far more beautiful than Clair, and she was better looking than Katie by any rational standards.
He got way too drunk and forgot about his flight to Canada.
This story is a bit too predictable. And yet, sometimes, life is too.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Chapter 9
Thomas woke up but he didn’t open his eyes. Music was still playing from his laptop from the night before. It was DragonForce.
DragonForce is only good to listen to sometimes. And by sometimes I mean rarely. And by rarely I mean almost never. And never in the morning.
Thomas didn't want to open his eyes because he had been having a very good dream and however childish it may seem, whenever Thomas had a good dream, he didn’t want it to end.
In his dream, he was back in Canada and happy.
In real life he was in France. And not the romantic side of France.
When he returned to France for the funeral, things went wrong.
He was a victim of identity theft, and all his money was taken from him.
His passion and skill for cooking died with his love.
Most people would compare it to a light burning out, but in poor Thomas's case, it was like the sun had imploded. He had a hard time making scrambled eggs. Which even I can do.
This hadn't been a problem in Canada, because there are always plenty of jobs and a sound government to take care of you. But in France, where his French was spotty at best, he was useless for anything but hard labor, and nobody took care of him.
His wisdom teeth were growing in.
He had broken his right index finger when a sudden gust of wind slammed a heavy wooden door on it.
While he was at the doctor, he missed the Canada vs. America Olympic Hockey match, which he had been looking forward to for months.
Bad luck Thomas.
Fortunately, he found a job that required him to split large rocks from inside tunnels and mineshafts.
His work usually involved rocks that could not be removed by dynamite because it was too dangerous.
The work was intense and beyond meaningless, but Thomas learned a lot while he did it.
Most of the time he thought about other things.
It took him six months to get on his feet again.
In those six months, he made some of the best friends he would ever make.
He also learned a lot about how the world works.
He bought a ticket for Canada, through New York.
The night before he left, he and his two closest friends went out for drinks.
When he got home, he made himself the best tasting omelet he had ever eaten.
DragonForce is only good to listen to sometimes. And by sometimes I mean rarely. And by rarely I mean almost never. And never in the morning.
Thomas didn't want to open his eyes because he had been having a very good dream and however childish it may seem, whenever Thomas had a good dream, he didn’t want it to end.
In his dream, he was back in Canada and happy.
In real life he was in France. And not the romantic side of France.
When he returned to France for the funeral, things went wrong.
He was a victim of identity theft, and all his money was taken from him.
His passion and skill for cooking died with his love.
Most people would compare it to a light burning out, but in poor Thomas's case, it was like the sun had imploded. He had a hard time making scrambled eggs. Which even I can do.
This hadn't been a problem in Canada, because there are always plenty of jobs and a sound government to take care of you. But in France, where his French was spotty at best, he was useless for anything but hard labor, and nobody took care of him.
His wisdom teeth were growing in.
He had broken his right index finger when a sudden gust of wind slammed a heavy wooden door on it.
While he was at the doctor, he missed the Canada vs. America Olympic Hockey match, which he had been looking forward to for months.
Bad luck Thomas.
Fortunately, he found a job that required him to split large rocks from inside tunnels and mineshafts.
His work usually involved rocks that could not be removed by dynamite because it was too dangerous.
The work was intense and beyond meaningless, but Thomas learned a lot while he did it.
Most of the time he thought about other things.
It took him six months to get on his feet again.
In those six months, he made some of the best friends he would ever make.
He also learned a lot about how the world works.
He bought a ticket for Canada, through New York.
The night before he left, he and his two closest friends went out for drinks.
When he got home, he made himself the best tasting omelet he had ever eaten.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Chapter 8
Sara Himms did two good things in her entire life.
The first one was, she gave up most of it to save her mother, which is maybe good since it goes against nature, but is dubbed good because of her valor in the name of love. The second one came later.
Sara was not an interesting girl. She was born, growing up she had no father, and she loved her mother, but her mother never did anything. Sara wasn't very intelligent so all of this seemed to be o.k. with her. She always wondered what was beyond Nebraska, but when she graduated high school her mother wanted her to stay and support her, so she did. She was skinny, and very cute, but she also did frivolous things like cleaning clean tables and like smoking past the end of cigarettes and like forcing herself to touch something red every time the clock read 9/11.
She worked in a Waffle House in Nebraska. This is what Nebraska looks like on a physical map.
________________________________________
it is very flat.
This was good for the Waffle House because the annoying tall sign that they always have was visible for miles and miles around, and at night it was a beacon of hope for those so far away.
Most people disappointed when they see that it was only a Waffle House, kind of like most people are disappointed when they follow spotlights in the city only to find a huge outdoor bathtub sale, however, when Fara and Katie were driving through Nebraska, they were pleasantly surprised.
They like Waffle House.
You know how Steven felt about it.
So anyways they stopped to eat at Waffle House at about 1:30 am.
The second good thing that Sara Himms did was to stay late and keep the establishment open.
This was only good because when she heard that they were a band traveling East, she asked them to play for her.
Sara was not very shy.
The point I'm trying to make is that every time Cederstrom played, a good thing happened.
After leaving Waffle House, they continued their drive East. Sara left Nebraska and won it big in Vegas. She had a natural talent for counting cards. Like Rainman. Exactly like Rainman.
Cederstrom heard their own song on the radio when they were passing through Vermont, a state notorious for indie music.
They got that feeling that every musician wants to feel someday.
The first one was, she gave up most of it to save her mother, which is maybe good since it goes against nature, but is dubbed good because of her valor in the name of love. The second one came later.
Sara was not an interesting girl. She was born, growing up she had no father, and she loved her mother, but her mother never did anything. Sara wasn't very intelligent so all of this seemed to be o.k. with her. She always wondered what was beyond Nebraska, but when she graduated high school her mother wanted her to stay and support her, so she did. She was skinny, and very cute, but she also did frivolous things like cleaning clean tables and like smoking past the end of cigarettes and like forcing herself to touch something red every time the clock read 9/11.
She worked in a Waffle House in Nebraska. This is what Nebraska looks like on a physical map.
________________________________________
it is very flat.
This was good for the Waffle House because the annoying tall sign that they always have was visible for miles and miles around, and at night it was a beacon of hope for those so far away.
Most people disappointed when they see that it was only a Waffle House, kind of like most people are disappointed when they follow spotlights in the city only to find a huge outdoor bathtub sale, however, when Fara and Katie were driving through Nebraska, they were pleasantly surprised.
They like Waffle House.
You know how Steven felt about it.
So anyways they stopped to eat at Waffle House at about 1:30 am.
The second good thing that Sara Himms did was to stay late and keep the establishment open.
This was only good because when she heard that they were a band traveling East, she asked them to play for her.
Sara was not very shy.
The point I'm trying to make is that every time Cederstrom played, a good thing happened.
After leaving Waffle House, they continued their drive East. Sara left Nebraska and won it big in Vegas. She had a natural talent for counting cards. Like Rainman. Exactly like Rainman.
Cederstrom heard their own song on the radio when they were passing through Vermont, a state notorious for indie music.
They got that feeling that every musician wants to feel someday.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Chapter 7
Cederstrom recorded their entire first album in spring. Katie worked really hard to finish it before summer started.
She and Fara stayed up the last 48 hours of spring finishing it.
Steven didn't really care.
The sound engineer, Randal, who recorded and mastered the tracks was so impressed with Katie's voice that he used every ounce of his considerable influence to make their single the itunes free download of the week.
Unfortunately for Cederstrom, people, in general, didn't like it. When they wrote reviews, they found it to be either "good background noise", or "boring".
Fortunately for Cederstrom, people, not in general, loved it. When they took the time to find the band email, they wrote very, very nice things about her and the drummer.
Katie found it remarkably funny when they said that the bassist sounded deeply moving, but distinctly indifferent. When she told Steven, he smiled.
It was the first time she could remember seeing him smile.
Since everybody downloads the free song every week, no matter who they are or what it is, it was downloaded 9,875,622 times; or about 10 million times.
Katie received 1,124 emails; or about 1,000 emails.
The band's fame grew as fast as their self-esteem and confidence, which was pretty fast considering. You would feel pretty good if you received about 1,000 emails telling you how amazing you are.
They were invited to play a show in New York.
This usually never happens to new indie bands, but I wanted to speed up the story a little bit, so I made Randal's half-deaf son who runs an underground indie hub of music in New York invite them.
It is really sad that Randal's son is half-deaf. It's like that movie Mr. Holland's Opus, but only half as sad. It frustrates me that Mr. Holland conducts with his left hand in that movie. Nobody conducts with their left hand. Ever.
Randal's son could still hear low frequencies, but had a really tough time with high ones. Even with hearing aids. He played upright bass. He was unbelievably good at it.
Months later, upon further personal reflection, Randal's son couldn't imagine why he did it, but considered it the best decision he ever made.
Randal was always proud of him.
Randal was instrumental in my life as well as Katie's.
Katie's parents wouldn't allow her to go because they wanted her to go to college and be successful. It was the typical story of parental oppression.
Obviously, Katie ran away with Steven and Fara. Fara drove all the way to New York from LA. At the California state border, he was strip searched.
From that point on, Katie drove across state borders.
She and Fara stayed up the last 48 hours of spring finishing it.
Steven didn't really care.
The sound engineer, Randal, who recorded and mastered the tracks was so impressed with Katie's voice that he used every ounce of his considerable influence to make their single the itunes free download of the week.
Unfortunately for Cederstrom, people, in general, didn't like it. When they wrote reviews, they found it to be either "good background noise", or "boring".
Fortunately for Cederstrom, people, not in general, loved it. When they took the time to find the band email, they wrote very, very nice things about her and the drummer.
Katie found it remarkably funny when they said that the bassist sounded deeply moving, but distinctly indifferent. When she told Steven, he smiled.
It was the first time she could remember seeing him smile.
Since everybody downloads the free song every week, no matter who they are or what it is, it was downloaded 9,875,622 times; or about 10 million times.
Katie received 1,124 emails; or about 1,000 emails.
The band's fame grew as fast as their self-esteem and confidence, which was pretty fast considering. You would feel pretty good if you received about 1,000 emails telling you how amazing you are.
They were invited to play a show in New York.
This usually never happens to new indie bands, but I wanted to speed up the story a little bit, so I made Randal's half-deaf son who runs an underground indie hub of music in New York invite them.
It is really sad that Randal's son is half-deaf. It's like that movie Mr. Holland's Opus, but only half as sad. It frustrates me that Mr. Holland conducts with his left hand in that movie. Nobody conducts with their left hand. Ever.
Randal's son could still hear low frequencies, but had a really tough time with high ones. Even with hearing aids. He played upright bass. He was unbelievably good at it.
Months later, upon further personal reflection, Randal's son couldn't imagine why he did it, but considered it the best decision he ever made.
Randal was always proud of him.
Randal was instrumental in my life as well as Katie's.
Katie's parents wouldn't allow her to go because they wanted her to go to college and be successful. It was the typical story of parental oppression.
Obviously, Katie ran away with Steven and Fara. Fara drove all the way to New York from LA. At the California state border, he was strip searched.
From that point on, Katie drove across state borders.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
A Break To Complain a Little Bit
There are a lot of things in life that involve difficult decisions. Everybody knows that.
In an ideal world, there are difficult decisions because people want to benefit themselves, but they also want to benefit the people around them so that they will be able to, in turn, help them.
Here:
Take nature.
Nature, when left alone, forms a harmonious, beautiful, mindless ecosystem. Organisms live, they serve a purpose to their surroundings, whatever that might be, and they die. Their body breaks down, they become a part of everything blah blah blah.
Put humans into that equation, make them mindless, and they work together to defend each other and survive blah blah blah.
There are no difficult decisions for mindless people. They act instinctively and if they are right they live, if they're wrong then they die. oops. fortunately there's a couple thousand other mindless people of the same sort to take the spot blah blah blah.
I am referring to men of the "prehistoric" or "stone" age.
Whatever the fuck we are now, we aren't humans. Technically, we are, but theoretically, we aren't. I keep talking about that will to survive crap, to push on, to better yourself, well, its selfish.
Its about as selfish as it gets.
Selfishness is found in animals around the world, don't get me wrong. Ever tried taking food from a bear?
Yet the true selfishness, the kind of which I'm talking about, doesn't exist anywhere but in the human being. Ever see a bear mark an entire food source as his own, so that he can have all the food, and sell it to other bears so they don't die in exchange for their mountain cave with a stellar night sky view?
But its expected now. That's why we are different than animals we want more blah blah blah.
So when people tell you you're selfish, well, yeah. You probably are. And so are they, for wanting you to share.
Yet its easy to define good selfishness from bad selfishness. Hitler, "The world will be mine" Susan B. Anthony "I want to vote".
My point is that it really depends on what kind of selfishness you go at.
Hitler, "Once the world is mine I will make it how i want"
Susan B. Anthony, "Once I can vote, so can all other women"
Sure you could say that Anthony to Hitler is a bit of a stretch, but how about day to day decisions.
"I want all the cookies because I'm hungry, but nobody else will have any"
"I'm going to make all the cookies because I'm hungry, I'll make enough for everybody"
Sure you could say that Deuche to Faggot is a bit of a stretch, but how about business decisions.
"I'm going to protect my money during this economic crisis, liquidize my stocks, maybe even short some, sell all my bonds, put it all in foreign banks under a stable currency, and wait for the economy to turn around. In other words, fuck the banks and the market. At least I didn't lose it all. My company will have to make major cuts. I'll feel bad firing those employees."
"I'm going to keep my savings in the accounts and deal with the lack of interest, buy stock while its low, and work harder to keep my company afloat so that when the economy turns around because of people like me, I will have made money, earned the respect of my employees, and have a solid company."
Sure you could say that Safe to Risky is a bit of a stretch, but it's NOT risky if EVERYBODY does it.
Safe isn't safe anymore when the Riskys all collapse under their weight, their foreign banks shut down due to their own economic crisis caused by your economic problems, and when they run out of people to fire.
See the trend?
There are a lot of tough decisions in life. Don't lie and say you're unselfish. Jesus Christ was rumored to be unselfish. He has been immortalized in history if not by other means. Unless you feel like going the same way he did, and if you need modern, I mean getting screwed for an idea, no matter how grand, then don't be selfless.
Communism is a method employed by rulers trying to copy nature; in a seriously fucked up way. Communism doesn't work. There's too much selfishness in people. Its a good thing. It makes us who we are, its the reason we have have ipods, beds, the NFL, and schools.
Pick your kind of selfishness. Make decisions that help you. Make that help the kind that will allow you to provide others with that same opportunity to make such a decision.
This is just thought, no advice to be had. This is one of the reasons why the world is so fucked up.
The odds are so great.
In an ideal world, there are difficult decisions because people want to benefit themselves, but they also want to benefit the people around them so that they will be able to, in turn, help them.
Here:
Take nature.
Nature, when left alone, forms a harmonious, beautiful, mindless ecosystem. Organisms live, they serve a purpose to their surroundings, whatever that might be, and they die. Their body breaks down, they become a part of everything blah blah blah.
Put humans into that equation, make them mindless, and they work together to defend each other and survive blah blah blah.
There are no difficult decisions for mindless people. They act instinctively and if they are right they live, if they're wrong then they die. oops. fortunately there's a couple thousand other mindless people of the same sort to take the spot blah blah blah.
I am referring to men of the "prehistoric" or "stone" age.
Whatever the fuck we are now, we aren't humans. Technically, we are, but theoretically, we aren't. I keep talking about that will to survive crap, to push on, to better yourself, well, its selfish.
Its about as selfish as it gets.
Selfishness is found in animals around the world, don't get me wrong. Ever tried taking food from a bear?
Yet the true selfishness, the kind of which I'm talking about, doesn't exist anywhere but in the human being. Ever see a bear mark an entire food source as his own, so that he can have all the food, and sell it to other bears so they don't die in exchange for their mountain cave with a stellar night sky view?
But its expected now. That's why we are different than animals we want more blah blah blah.
So when people tell you you're selfish, well, yeah. You probably are. And so are they, for wanting you to share.
Yet its easy to define good selfishness from bad selfishness. Hitler, "The world will be mine" Susan B. Anthony "I want to vote".
My point is that it really depends on what kind of selfishness you go at.
Hitler, "Once the world is mine I will make it how i want"
Susan B. Anthony, "Once I can vote, so can all other women"
Sure you could say that Anthony to Hitler is a bit of a stretch, but how about day to day decisions.
"I want all the cookies because I'm hungry, but nobody else will have any"
"I'm going to make all the cookies because I'm hungry, I'll make enough for everybody"
Sure you could say that Deuche to Faggot is a bit of a stretch, but how about business decisions.
"I'm going to protect my money during this economic crisis, liquidize my stocks, maybe even short some, sell all my bonds, put it all in foreign banks under a stable currency, and wait for the economy to turn around. In other words, fuck the banks and the market. At least I didn't lose it all. My company will have to make major cuts. I'll feel bad firing those employees."
"I'm going to keep my savings in the accounts and deal with the lack of interest, buy stock while its low, and work harder to keep my company afloat so that when the economy turns around because of people like me, I will have made money, earned the respect of my employees, and have a solid company."
Sure you could say that Safe to Risky is a bit of a stretch, but it's NOT risky if EVERYBODY does it.
Safe isn't safe anymore when the Riskys all collapse under their weight, their foreign banks shut down due to their own economic crisis caused by your economic problems, and when they run out of people to fire.
See the trend?
There are a lot of tough decisions in life. Don't lie and say you're unselfish. Jesus Christ was rumored to be unselfish. He has been immortalized in history if not by other means. Unless you feel like going the same way he did, and if you need modern, I mean getting screwed for an idea, no matter how grand, then don't be selfless.
Communism is a method employed by rulers trying to copy nature; in a seriously fucked up way. Communism doesn't work. There's too much selfishness in people. Its a good thing. It makes us who we are, its the reason we have have ipods, beds, the NFL, and schools.
Pick your kind of selfishness. Make decisions that help you. Make that help the kind that will allow you to provide others with that same opportunity to make such a decision.
This is just thought, no advice to be had. This is one of the reasons why the world is so fucked up.
The odds are so great.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Chapter 6
Thomas flew to France directly, and comfortably. In planes they let you watch movies of your choice these days. I made Thomas decide to watch "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer". It was so awful he fell asleep.
When he woke up the movie, "Fantastic Mr. Fox" was playing. he stayed awake for it because it was so good. He noticed at the end of the movie that the producers had recorded most of their own music. He was impressed by that.
I know very little about France, just that the food is good. and that it was once occupied by Germany. and that French people don't much like English people, but that they hate American people more. They are indifferent to positive about Canadians.
Since the food is good, the cooking schools must be good too.
When he woke up the movie, "Fantastic Mr. Fox" was playing. he stayed awake for it because it was so good. He noticed at the end of the movie that the producers had recorded most of their own music. He was impressed by that.
I know very little about France, just that the food is good. and that it was once occupied by Germany. and that French people don't much like English people, but that they hate American people more. They are indifferent to positive about Canadians.
Since the food is good, the cooking schools must be good too.
All I know about Thomas's time at cooking school was that he was happier than I had ever seen him. There was a romance. He met the love of his life. Her name Clair Lambert, that was how she spelled it at least. As relationships go, it burned like an inferno. She taught him French and how to ride horses, he taught her some English and cooked for her. She was secretly rich, and to her, Thomas was an escape.
One day she left him. Without warning. Three weeks later, She married a guy named Gaspard, who I am told is quite the man.
Thomas was utterly heartbroken and I felt awful about it, so I imagined up numerous gorgeous french women for him to sleep with.
Thomas taught me a lot about character when he refused to sleep with any of them.
He graduated eighth in his class of two hundred and fifty. Which is pretty respectable.
I could never finish eighth.
Upon further research of French Cooking Schools, I discovered that the one Thomas graduated from was the most prestigious in the world.
His loss of Clair and forced her to flee the country. Since Clair was the rich daughter of an ancient French family and Gaspard was named France's Sexiest Man Alive, their wedding made the news. Thomas had to leave. She was everywhere.
Thomas's plane ride home was uneventful. There was "mild turbulence" and the fish made everybody grow large red dots on their faces. Thomas didn't have the fish.
Also, on his personal turbulence scale, "mild" is only a 5, which he classifies as "dangerous if not wearing seatbelt; annoying". He wore his seat belt so his plane ride home was uneventful. Blah Blah Blah.
Thomas never told anybody about his personal turbulence scale on account that he felt that nobody in their right mind would have one.
What Clair didn't tell Thomas or Gaspard was that she was pregnant. The child, eerily named Thomas Jr. on the insistence of Clair, never knew his father or his mother. She died in childbirth.
Ironically, when Thomas attended her funeral, nobody put two and two together. Including him. Instead he felt honored and secretly that he must have been better than Gaspard.
Its ironic because such a humbling event made Thomas arrogant. Its also ironic that every person at the funeral was a smart person but none of them suspected a thing.
Thomas Jr. grew up to be kind of like the Sean Connery equivalent of real life. He kicked ass at everything.
Rumor has it he:
shook hands with Frank Sinatra and said it was nothing
blocked a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris with a roundhouse kick of his own, and broke Chuck's leg.
has not only lived among bears, but they universally hail him as their ruler
completed the international space station, on schedule
already knew what an awkward moment felt like, without even trying one
reached level 487 in Nazi Zombies and is known in the world of online COD as simply "God".
single handedly resurrected Latin.
He was the best dancer to ever live.
People wrote books about his time on earth.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Chapter Five
Thomas graduated high school as an all-providence goal-keeper with excellent grades and so on.
He was able to earn enough money in scholarships to spend his two years in a local Canadian school and then to study abroad. In France. Where he dreamed of learning to cook.
Most of this time was pretty uneventful, except for when he learned he was going to Frace. It was very cute. Allbeit wierd.
On his nineteenth birthday, his parents visited him at his school. It was unexpected and he was duely suprised, although he was rather pissed because he had been planning to go gambling with his friends.
It is absolutely ridiculous that the gambling age in Canada is nineteen, and the drinking age is eighteen.
However, they had brought a cake. Thomas inherited his love for cooking from his dad, but his love for baking came from his mother. Mrs. Rogene's cakes were unparalled. Magnifíc.
As an aside, good cake tends to smooth almost anything over. Also,
Flowers : Girls Good Food :: Guys
and
Sandwich Making Ability > Sex Ability
Good sandwiches never get old.
C'est la vie.
Thomas's birthday's were never good ones. Unfortunately, his birthday fell on Black Friday.
You would think that if your birthday fell on Black Friday, you would get better gifts because the more expensive things would be less expensive and more affordable.
This is not true, people kind of get saving money stuck in their heads and don't have time to celebrate your birthday and they don't want to spend extra moneys on you.
Bad Luck Thomas.
His nineteenth birthday didn't seem to be turning out too well when his parents turned up.
When they cut the cake, there was a deck of cards inside.
Thomas thought it was fuckin weird, but acted the part. His dad had, after all, invented all Rogene products.
His dad said he would let Thomas officially gamble for the first time in his life, against him.
His dad bet the trip to France. Thomas bet the honor associated with a man's first legal gamble. - And the last slice of cake.
Thomas won. His dad had been a magician for years before he invented Rogene. And he had slipped Thomas the card.
Kind of a weird guy if i do say so myself. In this story my opinion matters because I make all the characters. Hypothetically I could burst a light bulb in the dorm and start a fire. But I won't do that because Thomas wants to go to France. and not to die.
This chapter has been purely dedicated to ridiculous advancement of plot, followed by my thoughts at the moment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My thoughts at the moment:
Happy Thanksgiving to All.
My friend said that it sucks how it takes a holiday to get everybody to realize how thankful they are for each other. She's right to an extent. I think rather, it takes a holiday to make people say it out loud.
Sometimes that's all it takes.
I am thankful for everybody who reads this blog. No, i don't care way too much about it, its just nice. Especially if you tell me you like it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was able to earn enough money in scholarships to spend his two years in a local Canadian school and then to study abroad. In France. Where he dreamed of learning to cook.
Most of this time was pretty uneventful, except for when he learned he was going to Frace. It was very cute. Allbeit wierd.
On his nineteenth birthday, his parents visited him at his school. It was unexpected and he was duely suprised, although he was rather pissed because he had been planning to go gambling with his friends.
It is absolutely ridiculous that the gambling age in Canada is nineteen, and the drinking age is eighteen.
However, they had brought a cake. Thomas inherited his love for cooking from his dad, but his love for baking came from his mother. Mrs. Rogene's cakes were unparalled. Magnifíc.
As an aside, good cake tends to smooth almost anything over. Also,
Flowers : Girls Good Food :: Guys
and
Sandwich Making Ability > Sex Ability
Good sandwiches never get old.
C'est la vie.
Thomas's birthday's were never good ones. Unfortunately, his birthday fell on Black Friday.
You would think that if your birthday fell on Black Friday, you would get better gifts because the more expensive things would be less expensive and more affordable.
This is not true, people kind of get saving money stuck in their heads and don't have time to celebrate your birthday and they don't want to spend extra moneys on you.
Bad Luck Thomas.
His nineteenth birthday didn't seem to be turning out too well when his parents turned up.
When they cut the cake, there was a deck of cards inside.
Thomas thought it was fuckin weird, but acted the part. His dad had, after all, invented all Rogene products.
His dad said he would let Thomas officially gamble for the first time in his life, against him.
His dad bet the trip to France. Thomas bet the honor associated with a man's first legal gamble. - And the last slice of cake.
Thomas won. His dad had been a magician for years before he invented Rogene. And he had slipped Thomas the card.
Kind of a weird guy if i do say so myself. In this story my opinion matters because I make all the characters. Hypothetically I could burst a light bulb in the dorm and start a fire. But I won't do that because Thomas wants to go to France. and not to die.
This chapter has been purely dedicated to ridiculous advancement of plot, followed by my thoughts at the moment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My thoughts at the moment:
Happy Thanksgiving to All.
My friend said that it sucks how it takes a holiday to get everybody to realize how thankful they are for each other. She's right to an extent. I think rather, it takes a holiday to make people say it out loud.
Sometimes that's all it takes.
I am thankful for everybody who reads this blog. No, i don't care way too much about it, its just nice. Especially if you tell me you like it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Chapter 4
Since Katie had the ability to sing and play the guitar beautifully, and Fara was ever so talented, their band rose to fame quickly.
Well, relative fame.
Meaning they weren't famous at all.
And all the benefits of being famous were kind of limited.
They were extremely popular... at their school talent shows.
Fara got mad poon for his playing... But it was really slutty white girl poon, which wasn't his type. He had an std scare and it ruined his week. but that's another story.
Simon got free dro... but it was nearly always partially crab grass.
Steven had a secret admirer who remained secret and constantly creeped on him. He is a strong pacifist, but even he had to disable his facebook account.
Boys adored Katie... But they were all gay.
Not that gay people are bad fans... in fact, they tend to go way overboard, and its very nice for the performer. But Katie likes boys, and as a rule, the ones that like girls.
Not to stereotype or anything. I love gays.
Oops.
The longer I try to cover up my social discrepancies, the worse they get.
If this story was to be published, this whole chapter would be cut.
Sadly.
Simon was not smart. He disliked school quite a bit. He was also plagued by erectile dysfunction, a kind that could not be treated until he was fully grown.
Everyday he would submit these lines to FML, a popular website that displays completely fabricated snippets of life for the entertainment of millions of bored and insecure kids who like feeling better about their lives because they can read about someone who's life sucks more.
"My penis doesn't work. FML"
It never made it.
If you were Simon, you would toke up too.
As time went on, Simon grew far more dependent on Marijuana to make it through his abysmal days. Things got ugly when he discovered "that cali dank". He dropped off when cocaine entered his life.
Eventually he quit The Seismic Toss. Jarad quit too. Jarad followed Simon everywhere, and they often sang together in songs.
Katie thought about making a joke about Simon & Jarfunkle.
She realized it wasn't funny at all and didn't make the joke.
Simon dropped out of school. When he stole money from Katie to buy drugs, she broke up with him.
It broke his heart.
As an aside, he ended up in rehab... The story of his recovery over the next ten years is the stuff of legends.
He now tours the country warning against drug use.
Even though kids laugh at him for what he does, he leaves a lasting impression. He is a good man.
With the loss of Jarad and Simon, Katie's band changed their name to Cederstrom.
Steven didn't say anything about it.
Katie was related to the famous Swedish artist Gustaf Cederstrom. She thought it was a cool name.
So did Fariesh
So do I.
Well, relative fame.
Meaning they weren't famous at all.
And all the benefits of being famous were kind of limited.
They were extremely popular... at their school talent shows.
Fara got mad poon for his playing... But it was really slutty white girl poon, which wasn't his type. He had an std scare and it ruined his week. but that's another story.
Simon got free dro... but it was nearly always partially crab grass.
Steven had a secret admirer who remained secret and constantly creeped on him. He is a strong pacifist, but even he had to disable his facebook account.
Boys adored Katie... But they were all gay.
Not that gay people are bad fans... in fact, they tend to go way overboard, and its very nice for the performer. But Katie likes boys, and as a rule, the ones that like girls.
Not to stereotype or anything. I love gays.
Oops.
The longer I try to cover up my social discrepancies, the worse they get.
If this story was to be published, this whole chapter would be cut.
Sadly.
Simon was not smart. He disliked school quite a bit. He was also plagued by erectile dysfunction, a kind that could not be treated until he was fully grown.
Everyday he would submit these lines to FML, a popular website that displays completely fabricated snippets of life for the entertainment of millions of bored and insecure kids who like feeling better about their lives because they can read about someone who's life sucks more.
"My penis doesn't work. FML"
It never made it.
If you were Simon, you would toke up too.
As time went on, Simon grew far more dependent on Marijuana to make it through his abysmal days. Things got ugly when he discovered "that cali dank". He dropped off when cocaine entered his life.
Eventually he quit The Seismic Toss. Jarad quit too. Jarad followed Simon everywhere, and they often sang together in songs.
Katie thought about making a joke about Simon & Jarfunkle.
She realized it wasn't funny at all and didn't make the joke.
Simon dropped out of school. When he stole money from Katie to buy drugs, she broke up with him.
It broke his heart.
As an aside, he ended up in rehab... The story of his recovery over the next ten years is the stuff of legends.
He now tours the country warning against drug use.
Even though kids laugh at him for what he does, he leaves a lasting impression. He is a good man.
With the loss of Jarad and Simon, Katie's band changed their name to Cederstrom.
Steven didn't say anything about it.
Katie was related to the famous Swedish artist Gustaf Cederstrom. She thought it was a cool name.
So did Fariesh
So do I.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Chapter 3
At the same time Thomas was wasting all his time struggling with society, two other important things were happening.
The first important thing was that Jake Rogene's grandmother passed away in her sizable home in Los Angeles, California. She had left all her assets and belongings and fortunes to her daughter, Jake's mother. They moved to California, where they joined the middle-upper class.
At Jake's new school, when people asked him whether or not his dad owned Rogene, he said yes. Things were much better for Jake after that. The turn of events turned him into a devout Catholic.
The other important thing was that Katie Ericcson started an indie rock band with her boyfriend Simon and three of his friends, Jarad, Steven, and Fariesh. Fariesh was a drummer. His family was from Bosnia, but he was born in America. Everybody called him Fara. He was extremely talented, and extremely hairy. People often called him Osama. This frustrated Fara because he was not even remotely similar to the people in that part of the world, and he liked his very long beard. They all lived in LA.
Fara was also frustrated because his parents didn't even name him properly for his heritage. They just thought it was a cool name.
Katie played guitar and sang beautifully.
Beautifully in the way that Thomas Rogene would define beautifully.
She didn't much like to sing for people because she felt it was showing off. But she sang a lot by herself. It was her favorite thing to do.
She didn't have a favorite band. But she really liked The Shins and Belle & Sebastian and Bon Iver. She also loved Simon & Garfunkel.
She liked to pretend that her boyfriend and Simon from Simon & Garfunkel were the same. But she never told anybody that because it was really embarrassing. She also wasn't sure if they were actually two people or just a clever band name.
She was sixteen, and in love. Simon was fifteen and felt lucky to have her.
Katie's boyfriend Simon fell in love with Marijuana. It would tear them apart in the coming year.
They named their band The Seismic Toss. It was the name for a pokemon move in which the pokemon would lift its foe so very high that it would appear to circle the earth and then throw it down magnificently. There was nothing Seismic about the attack, and there was nothing musical about the band name. Fara loved pokemon. He mentioned it. Jarad and Simon backed him.
Steven didn't say anything about it.
Katie thought it was rather dumb.
So do I.
The first important thing was that Jake Rogene's grandmother passed away in her sizable home in Los Angeles, California. She had left all her assets and belongings and fortunes to her daughter, Jake's mother. They moved to California, where they joined the middle-upper class.
At Jake's new school, when people asked him whether or not his dad owned Rogene, he said yes. Things were much better for Jake after that. The turn of events turned him into a devout Catholic.
The other important thing was that Katie Ericcson started an indie rock band with her boyfriend Simon and three of his friends, Jarad, Steven, and Fariesh. Fariesh was a drummer. His family was from Bosnia, but he was born in America. Everybody called him Fara. He was extremely talented, and extremely hairy. People often called him Osama. This frustrated Fara because he was not even remotely similar to the people in that part of the world, and he liked his very long beard. They all lived in LA.
Fara was also frustrated because his parents didn't even name him properly for his heritage. They just thought it was a cool name.
Katie played guitar and sang beautifully.
Beautifully in the way that Thomas Rogene would define beautifully.
She didn't much like to sing for people because she felt it was showing off. But she sang a lot by herself. It was her favorite thing to do.
She didn't have a favorite band. But she really liked The Shins and Belle & Sebastian and Bon Iver. She also loved Simon & Garfunkel.
She liked to pretend that her boyfriend and Simon from Simon & Garfunkel were the same. But she never told anybody that because it was really embarrassing. She also wasn't sure if they were actually two people or just a clever band name.
She was sixteen, and in love. Simon was fifteen and felt lucky to have her.
Katie's boyfriend Simon fell in love with Marijuana. It would tear them apart in the coming year.
They named their band The Seismic Toss. It was the name for a pokemon move in which the pokemon would lift its foe so very high that it would appear to circle the earth and then throw it down magnificently. There was nothing Seismic about the attack, and there was nothing musical about the band name. Fara loved pokemon. He mentioned it. Jarad and Simon backed him.
Steven didn't say anything about it.
Katie thought it was rather dumb.
So do I.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Chapter 2
Everyday Thomas would wake up and go to school. His classes were very boring. The people in his classes tended to be like machines.
He often asked the machines if they had had good weekends, to be polite of course.
They always said that their weekends were good.
Thomas thought it was funny that they always said that for two reasons.
1) It proved that they were like machines.
2) He read a book once where God turned everybody in the world was a machine, and left one man who was able to make decisions. The man eventually turned into a machine because he had to fit in. The author didn't give any insight into Gods thoughts (Thomas thought he was scared to), but the moral of the story was obvious. Thomas felt like the man in the story. Except without the God bit. Thomas had issues believing in divine intervention. Kind of like myself. But that's for later.
Since Thomas hated the idea of being like a machine, even though he was, he spent more time on being creative than he should have. His grades always suffered. His parents always got angry. His teachers were always perplexed.
His classmates were very competitive machine people. They were always nice, because they sometimes got bad grades too. Thomas knew they were smug deep down that their hard work paid off. Thomas didn't mind though... they were entitled to whatever made them happy.
He supposed that it was equivalent to what he felt when he drew or cooked or wrote or played hockey.
He often described the feeling as beautiful.
Nobody seemed to understand what he meant.
Thomas wrote a poem about it. This is what he wrote.
"It was a dance, they decided
that split the evening sky
The colors of the spectrum flashed
Wavered. Faded.
Reborn. Danced.
Aurora."
He thought words were limited.
But it made sense to him.
Thomas didn't really think that his classmates were machines if they felt that. They were just better at being civil about it. Why though?
This is what confused Thomas about society. He still thought a lot about it.
He often asked the machines if they had had good weekends, to be polite of course.
They always said that their weekends were good.
Thomas thought it was funny that they always said that for two reasons.
1) It proved that they were like machines.
2) He read a book once where God turned everybody in the world was a machine, and left one man who was able to make decisions. The man eventually turned into a machine because he had to fit in. The author didn't give any insight into Gods thoughts (Thomas thought he was scared to), but the moral of the story was obvious. Thomas felt like the man in the story. Except without the God bit. Thomas had issues believing in divine intervention. Kind of like myself. But that's for later.
Since Thomas hated the idea of being like a machine, even though he was, he spent more time on being creative than he should have. His grades always suffered. His parents always got angry. His teachers were always perplexed.
His classmates were very competitive machine people. They were always nice, because they sometimes got bad grades too. Thomas knew they were smug deep down that their hard work paid off. Thomas didn't mind though... they were entitled to whatever made them happy.
He supposed that it was equivalent to what he felt when he drew or cooked or wrote or played hockey.
He often described the feeling as beautiful.
Nobody seemed to understand what he meant.
Thomas wrote a poem about it. This is what he wrote.
"It was a dance, they decided
that split the evening sky
The colors of the spectrum flashed
Wavered. Faded.
Reborn. Danced.
Aurora."
He thought words were limited.
But it made sense to him.
Thomas didn't really think that his classmates were machines if they felt that. They were just better at being civil about it. Why though?
This is what confused Thomas about society. He still thought a lot about it.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Chapter One
There once was a man named Thomas Rogene.
Thomas Rogene married a woman named Katie Ericsson. Their story is wonderful.
Thomas grew up in the lower-upper class... the kind of place where he had quite a bit of money and a very large house, but he didn't have menservants and gardeners and servants and cooks. and those people who don't do anything but stand around and open doors.
His parents weren't divorced, in fact, his dad, Jim Rogene, was the inventor of Rogene hair and facial products. His small 1.2758% of all profits generated by the product was sufficient enough so that he never had to work again. His mother, Carol, liked tennis. She was very very very good, and always dominated the inter-country club tournament. She was so good that people pretended to like her, when in fact they all hated her. All except for Joni Kchovenejenenen and Chisti Haroll. Joni was her only competition as an ex-professional, but she was getting on at 66 and so she tended to be more friendly then not. Christi was very empty. She liked everyone but she didn't know why.
Thomas grew up attending a small private school. He was incessantly curious, and very bright. His body's chemical proportions were favorable, but he had adhd and dyslexia. Unfortunately, it was the kind of dyslexia that was too small to be diagnosed, but large enough to where it made small print impossible to read. This lead to glasses that were completely useless. But it didn't matter. Thomas was in the lower-upper class. it didn't matter if he spent money on glasses.
When he was in High School, Thomas switched schools for hockey, which was what he was good at that people cared about. He was also very good at drawing and cooking food. But nobody cared about his paintings. And his friends made fun of his exquisite taste and his beautiful talent for food. They never quite understood what he meant when he said he loved food.
Regardless, the private school at which he was stationed was no good for athletics, and Thomas wanted to expand his horizons. He transferred to the local public school. He lived in Ontario, Canada. He was 6'5''. He wanted to go to cooking school in France. He knew his only chance was to go by playing hockey. He worked very very hard.
The local public school was full of kids from either the lower-upper class, the middle-upper class, or the upper-upper class. They all asked Thomas if his name was like the hair gel. He said yes, exactly like it. People were always impressed.
His sophomore year, there was a freshman named Jake Rogene in his art class. They were not related. Thomas felt sorry for Jake because people asked Jake if his name was for hair, and if he was related to Thomas. Jake always said no. People were always unimpressed.
Thomas was a star on the Hockey team, people liked him because of his name and because he was good at hockey.
Life was good for Thomas, and he knew it. He never once was ungrateful for what was given to him, and he worked very hard each day to earn it. But he was always so confused by the way social structure seemed to work in his city. He thought a lot about it.
Thomas Rogene married a woman named Katie Ericsson. Their story is wonderful.
Thomas grew up in the lower-upper class... the kind of place where he had quite a bit of money and a very large house, but he didn't have menservants and gardeners and servants and cooks. and those people who don't do anything but stand around and open doors.
His parents weren't divorced, in fact, his dad, Jim Rogene, was the inventor of Rogene hair and facial products. His small 1.2758% of all profits generated by the product was sufficient enough so that he never had to work again. His mother, Carol, liked tennis. She was very very very good, and always dominated the inter-country club tournament. She was so good that people pretended to like her, when in fact they all hated her. All except for Joni Kchovenejenenen and Chisti Haroll. Joni was her only competition as an ex-professional, but she was getting on at 66 and so she tended to be more friendly then not. Christi was very empty. She liked everyone but she didn't know why.
Thomas grew up attending a small private school. He was incessantly curious, and very bright. His body's chemical proportions were favorable, but he had adhd and dyslexia. Unfortunately, it was the kind of dyslexia that was too small to be diagnosed, but large enough to where it made small print impossible to read. This lead to glasses that were completely useless. But it didn't matter. Thomas was in the lower-upper class. it didn't matter if he spent money on glasses.
When he was in High School, Thomas switched schools for hockey, which was what he was good at that people cared about. He was also very good at drawing and cooking food. But nobody cared about his paintings. And his friends made fun of his exquisite taste and his beautiful talent for food. They never quite understood what he meant when he said he loved food.
Regardless, the private school at which he was stationed was no good for athletics, and Thomas wanted to expand his horizons. He transferred to the local public school. He lived in Ontario, Canada. He was 6'5''. He wanted to go to cooking school in France. He knew his only chance was to go by playing hockey. He worked very very hard.
The local public school was full of kids from either the lower-upper class, the middle-upper class, or the upper-upper class. They all asked Thomas if his name was like the hair gel. He said yes, exactly like it. People were always impressed.
His sophomore year, there was a freshman named Jake Rogene in his art class. They were not related. Thomas felt sorry for Jake because people asked Jake if his name was for hair, and if he was related to Thomas. Jake always said no. People were always unimpressed.
Thomas was a star on the Hockey team, people liked him because of his name and because he was good at hockey.
Life was good for Thomas, and he knew it. He never once was ungrateful for what was given to him, and he worked very hard each day to earn it. But he was always so confused by the way social structure seemed to work in his city. He thought a lot about it.
Monday, October 5, 2009
On My Mind.
I have come to a conclusion of sorts.
The universe is massive.
Bigger then our comprehension.
It gets bigger every nanosecond.
It won't stop getting bigger for a long time.
Its ordered.
So far as we know, everything in the universe follows rules of cause and effect. everything can be explained. everything is orderly. and happens. for what purpose, we do not know.
maybe its because its simply an effect from an old cause thats trickling down to infinatesimally small levels...
maybe its all an accident and the universe is the product of an arrant cause that should never have occured.
People say all things happen for a reason.
Maybe they do. But i think its not because of some destiny, but rather because of some anomaly.
To whatever extent, we, as humans are like atoms, no smaller, quarks to the structure of the universe.
Our existance is meaningless to the cosmos. Negligable. In fact, most things at all are negligable to the cosmos. Our sun, or solar system, or galaxy, or cluster, or super cluster; all tiny in the scope of the universe.
Quarks and gluons theoretically make up protons and neutrons and electrons.
Theoretically they flicker in and out of existance, so small is their size.
Human lives, animal lives, the lives of stars even, events gargantuan to us, are so ludicrously unimportant in the amount of cause and effect in the universe at any given point, that they flicker in and out of existance.
I mean to state this plainly.
If our lives our negligable in size, so are our causes and effects.
So are our lives.
We have no purpose here on earth. There is no grand scheme.
All that is left is what we have control of.
Our actions, our lives.
Take them into your hands.
Put it this way. Its quite impossible to royally fuck up.
The universe is massive.
Bigger then our comprehension.
It gets bigger every nanosecond.
It won't stop getting bigger for a long time.
Its ordered.
So far as we know, everything in the universe follows rules of cause and effect. everything can be explained. everything is orderly. and happens. for what purpose, we do not know.
maybe its because its simply an effect from an old cause thats trickling down to infinatesimally small levels...
maybe its all an accident and the universe is the product of an arrant cause that should never have occured.
People say all things happen for a reason.
Maybe they do. But i think its not because of some destiny, but rather because of some anomaly.
To whatever extent, we, as humans are like atoms, no smaller, quarks to the structure of the universe.
Our existance is meaningless to the cosmos. Negligable. In fact, most things at all are negligable to the cosmos. Our sun, or solar system, or galaxy, or cluster, or super cluster; all tiny in the scope of the universe.
Quarks and gluons theoretically make up protons and neutrons and electrons.
Theoretically they flicker in and out of existance, so small is their size.
Human lives, animal lives, the lives of stars even, events gargantuan to us, are so ludicrously unimportant in the amount of cause and effect in the universe at any given point, that they flicker in and out of existance.
I mean to state this plainly.
If our lives our negligable in size, so are our causes and effects.
So are our lives.
We have no purpose here on earth. There is no grand scheme.
All that is left is what we have control of.
Our actions, our lives.
Take them into your hands.
Put it this way. Its quite impossible to royally fuck up.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Moving.
True emotion is powerful stuff. Truthfully it can be both scary and intimidating.
Sometimes it can be too much.
Sometimes the timing is poor. Sometimes there is far too much in the dramatics. Sometimes it can't be helped. Below is a resolve.
I never meant to take it too far.
I am so sorry.
This is it from me. Moving.
Sometimes it can be too much.
Sometimes the timing is poor. Sometimes there is far too much in the dramatics. Sometimes it can't be helped. Below is a resolve.
I never meant to take it too far.
I am so sorry.
This is it from me. Moving.
Thoughts on Thought
We live in an indefinite world, an inconsistent one.
It can change in the blink of an eye from right to wrong, from beautiful to ugly, and from great to poor.
It can change from full to empty.
Collecting thoughts in such a world can be like catching dry leaves in the wind.
Its really difficult, and then when you catch one, you usually crush it.
Only those with the mental dexterity of philosophers, good philosophers I might add, can get their shit together. And even then, in a way that is unique to them, and in a way that few others can understand.
There is a reason for that.
Honestly, there are so many ups and downs, that even taking a break from life in order to collect oneself kinda just puts you behind.
Discipline of the mind cannot be taught. It simply must be learned. From experience.
It shouldn't even be learned. It shouldn't even be a concept. It causes so much more trepidation and trivia then success and understanding.
Everybody everywhere thinks that this sort of discipline is the end all be all of greatness and enlightenment, and it is these same people who scream from the rooftops that they have found it, or that they need it.
It is those same people who actually attend classes or sessions to learn to think about how they feel.
Are you kidding me?
There is no such thing as complete mental discipline.
This is because there is no such thing as emotional discipline.
Those who say they have it, either don't really live around people, or aren't human. Its that simple.
Blocking out emotions is a bit of a death sentence for the mind.
The problem is people's sense of self-importance.
While it is the most essential part of creativity and by extension, self-expression, and again by extension, individualism, which is the core, and possibly singular, good belief of our society, it forces people to just take themselves way too seriously.
If they would simply get over themselves, and believe me, I am just as guilty, I write this blog that practically screams of unintentional arrogance, then they could start to think about things that actually matter.
Things like other people. This magnificent world in which we live. Integrity Character ArtandMusicLovePassion. Truth.
I am aware that this has been downright contradictory and borderline ludicrous. Keep Reading.
Do not get me wrong. Collecting your thoughts, or in other terms, staying sane or thinking straight, is pretty important.
Trying to control how you come to that state of almost divine enlightenment is wrong.
You'll only go backwards.
In a sense, the common man, the one who has never worried about how he acts, is far better off than the greatest of philosophers, who must unlearn all they forcibly "learned" or "discovered".
Feel first. Then think about how you feel. Don't try to change it. Don't lie to yourself. Don't run away from the feelings. Don't try to block them out.
Accept them, for whether you like it or not, They Are You.
Your own emotions keep you honest. Only ignore them if it must be done, and then with the knowledge that you are indeed ignoring them.
Humans do not need Sunflowers. They know they are beautiful. Most think they need them.
Bees need Sunflowers. They do not know they are beautiful. They simply need them.
Want them all you want, but know that you do not need them.
It can change in the blink of an eye from right to wrong, from beautiful to ugly, and from great to poor.
It can change from full to empty.
Collecting thoughts in such a world can be like catching dry leaves in the wind.
Its really difficult, and then when you catch one, you usually crush it.
Only those with the mental dexterity of philosophers, good philosophers I might add, can get their shit together. And even then, in a way that is unique to them, and in a way that few others can understand.
There is a reason for that.
Honestly, there are so many ups and downs, that even taking a break from life in order to collect oneself kinda just puts you behind.
Discipline of the mind cannot be taught. It simply must be learned. From experience.
It shouldn't even be learned. It shouldn't even be a concept. It causes so much more trepidation and trivia then success and understanding.
Everybody everywhere thinks that this sort of discipline is the end all be all of greatness and enlightenment, and it is these same people who scream from the rooftops that they have found it, or that they need it.
It is those same people who actually attend classes or sessions to learn to think about how they feel.
Are you kidding me?
There is no such thing as complete mental discipline.
This is because there is no such thing as emotional discipline.
Those who say they have it, either don't really live around people, or aren't human. Its that simple.
Blocking out emotions is a bit of a death sentence for the mind.
The problem is people's sense of self-importance.
While it is the most essential part of creativity and by extension, self-expression, and again by extension, individualism, which is the core, and possibly singular, good belief of our society, it forces people to just take themselves way too seriously.
If they would simply get over themselves, and believe me, I am just as guilty, I write this blog that practically screams of unintentional arrogance, then they could start to think about things that actually matter.
Things like other people. This magnificent world in which we live. Integrity Character ArtandMusicLovePassion. Truth.
I am aware that this has been downright contradictory and borderline ludicrous. Keep Reading.
Do not get me wrong. Collecting your thoughts, or in other terms, staying sane or thinking straight, is pretty important.
Trying to control how you come to that state of almost divine enlightenment is wrong.
You'll only go backwards.
In a sense, the common man, the one who has never worried about how he acts, is far better off than the greatest of philosophers, who must unlearn all they forcibly "learned" or "discovered".
Feel first. Then think about how you feel. Don't try to change it. Don't lie to yourself. Don't run away from the feelings. Don't try to block them out.
Accept them, for whether you like it or not, They Are You.
Your own emotions keep you honest. Only ignore them if it must be done, and then with the knowledge that you are indeed ignoring them.
Humans do not need Sunflowers. They know they are beautiful. Most think they need them.
Bees need Sunflowers. They do not know they are beautiful. They simply need them.
Want them all you want, but know that you do not need them.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saying Goodbye
Man, by design, is an individual.
No two people are identical, and no two people ever share the same thoughts.
Each and every one of us lives alone in our thoughts, and each and every one of us fall fate to our own devices.
Much like computers, which were made to think in the likeness of us, are we in many respects.
As an aside, an odd relationship to think about. They say God made us in his likeness, and we have made computers in ours. What does that tell us about God? Could a computer ever comprehend how we have designed and what thought went into it? It is so limited. Ask the same thing about the nature of God and ourselves.
Computers are truely alone, they feel nothing, they have no emotion, because they are all the same, because they never interact with one another.
And therein lies the difference.
We interact with one another.
We have emotions.
Emotions, derived from our need to explain our feelings for each other.
Without emotion, we would never survive. Without each other, we would never survive.
These bonds of emotion and of feeling run deeper than any knowledge we can surmise, deeper than anything a computer could ever do for us.
It is our lifeblood.
This is why death is the darkest of our observances.
This is why saying goodbye comes close.
There is a feeling associated with this...
Its the feeling that the world has less in it. That a home you just lived in shrank and forced you out of it. That the music you played for a silent room never existed. That anything you do means less. That nothing you do means anything.
That there's a deep hole in your heart.
That your missing your heart.
Even food doesnt taste good.
Its ok.
Its feelings like these that let you know you're human.
Its feelings like these that let you know you're never going to be alone.
The world could fall, and the sun could never rise again, and still you would know, just because of this feeling, that you wont ever be alone.
Embrace it.
Own it.
Its yours.
The world wont fall, the sun will rise.
But its nice to have a constant, something to keep you company.
No two people are identical, and no two people ever share the same thoughts.
Each and every one of us lives alone in our thoughts, and each and every one of us fall fate to our own devices.
Much like computers, which were made to think in the likeness of us, are we in many respects.
As an aside, an odd relationship to think about. They say God made us in his likeness, and we have made computers in ours. What does that tell us about God? Could a computer ever comprehend how we have designed and what thought went into it? It is so limited. Ask the same thing about the nature of God and ourselves.
Computers are truely alone, they feel nothing, they have no emotion, because they are all the same, because they never interact with one another.
And therein lies the difference.
We interact with one another.
We have emotions.
Emotions, derived from our need to explain our feelings for each other.
Without emotion, we would never survive. Without each other, we would never survive.
These bonds of emotion and of feeling run deeper than any knowledge we can surmise, deeper than anything a computer could ever do for us.
It is our lifeblood.
This is why death is the darkest of our observances.
This is why saying goodbye comes close.
There is a feeling associated with this...
Its the feeling that the world has less in it. That a home you just lived in shrank and forced you out of it. That the music you played for a silent room never existed. That anything you do means less. That nothing you do means anything.
That there's a deep hole in your heart.
That your missing your heart.
Even food doesnt taste good.
Its ok.
Its feelings like these that let you know you're human.
Its feelings like these that let you know you're never going to be alone.
The world could fall, and the sun could never rise again, and still you would know, just because of this feeling, that you wont ever be alone.
Embrace it.
Own it.
Its yours.
The world wont fall, the sun will rise.
But its nice to have a constant, something to keep you company.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Stand Tall
a poem
"Stand Tall"
i dream of being far away
away from what i knew
from what i know
the truth of it blinds me
he stands a statue in the torrent
oblique and absolute
radient light
Hope.
stone wears away
ideas live on
but only, the right ones
his sheild is but nought
so alone is its type
everlasting
Hope.
better days lie ahead
and think what promises were said
and what has been dead
the world around you falls, sweetly.
the sheild slips
the statue fades
the image is burned on the black forever
Hope.
and now we cry
all honerably
it's all gone, to pieces
and so have we failed
i try to be the stone
collapsing
Hope.
"Stand Tall"
i dream of being far away
away from what i knew
from what i know
the truth of it blinds me
he stands a statue in the torrent
oblique and absolute
radient light
Hope.
stone wears away
ideas live on
but only, the right ones
his sheild is but nought
so alone is its type
everlasting
Hope.
better days lie ahead
and think what promises were said
and what has been dead
the world around you falls, sweetly.
the sheild slips
the statue fades
the image is burned on the black forever
Hope.
and now we cry
all honerably
it's all gone, to pieces
and so have we failed
i try to be the stone
collapsing
Hope.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
This Is What Happens When Your Heart Breaks
(Re-submitted after a computer failure: Originally posted 8/12/09 11:32 pm)
This could be ugly.
I rage.
Inside and out I feel as though there is a crushing weight pressing in and there's nothing holding it up.
My body is hollow.
My heart beats so little now.
I will control this. This beast within me. This dark dark beast. It roars.
I knew for so long i was right, that others were right and that i should have left it.
I pushed it away, a slave to my own meaningless devices, my own sycophantic failures to face the truth that I love a person who can't, and will never love me back.
Its been nearly a year. I've poured more into this vat then I can say.
All that's left is the music and a canvas of silence to paint on.
The passion is all gone from me.
There. I am done.
The reality of this matter is my own failure. my own lack of judgement and control. I trusted for too long, with too much, knowing all the while it was folly.
I loved you so much.
This could be ugly.
I rage.
Inside and out I feel as though there is a crushing weight pressing in and there's nothing holding it up.
My body is hollow.
My heart beats so little now.
I will control this. This beast within me. This dark dark beast. It roars.
I knew for so long i was right, that others were right and that i should have left it.
I pushed it away, a slave to my own meaningless devices, my own sycophantic failures to face the truth that I love a person who can't, and will never love me back.
Its been nearly a year. I've poured more into this vat then I can say.
All that's left is the music and a canvas of silence to paint on.
The passion is all gone from me.
There. I am done.
The reality of this matter is my own failure. my own lack of judgement and control. I trusted for too long, with too much, knowing all the while it was folly.
I loved you so much.
Friday, August 14, 2009
An Age Old Question
Looking back on past posts, I have come to realize a common trend in my ideals.
There is something wrong with the world.
I can't explain why I feel like there's something wrong, when so many say it's right.
Each post is a piece to the puzzle.
Each plea a confused cry.
Just read.
There is a question that every single person confronts in their life. Few know they do, but some know they do.
What is the meaning of life? Why do we exist? To what purpose do we live?
It is a big question... In fact, maybe the biggest. And everybody has an answer, again, whether or not they know it.
Some say that we live because God wills it, and this is but a trail for our judgement for the rest of eternity. Or something to that effect.
Some say that everything we do is predetermined, and that the concept of choice is what keeps us sane, but that we really are just a planned existence.
Religion is a great thing. It has comforted billions upon billions of people who have lived. It has saved them from this question. And yet, I can't help but wonder at the practicality of it all.
To say that there is a divine power that we cannot comprehend in any way, shape, or form, is to say that we live for no purpose other than to live and then die. The way in which you lived, decides your eternal position.
Why then, do we as humans conceive time. Or anything at all for that matter? An animal does not understand the passage of time, it just lives. It serves its purpose exactly in the way that it was built to. It has no ambition, or sin, or anything. Do all other animals go to heaven then?
Then I ask myself, If the Gazelle was created, by a divine power, to graze and bound and it does, and it goes to heaven, what does that look like to the gazelle? More of the same? Or are other animals unfit for heaven? That very conception is against the way of God.
To say that God discriminated from one animal to the next, from gazelles to humans, is against his very purposes.
This leads me to believe that heaven is a goal. An ultimatum for someone to reach. A direction for life. But God is against that as well, or so I am told.
If God made man in the likeness of himself, why are humans flawed?
and if He made them to be flowed, then who are we to describe His ways? Our descriptions of heaven and hell and of God himself, reek of the human stench of aspiration and desire.
I then turn to the argument that Jesus, the son of God, described His ways to us, and that Jesus was not flowed. If we all make an effort to be like Jesus, and say we succeed, then would we not as humans turn back to the state of Gazelles?
We would be born, we would live well, and without fighting. We would hunt and gather, as man was meant to. There would be no drive to survive better then the other, and that would, in effect, make us no different from apes. We would devolve.
I find it Ironic, that without all the evil people in the world, we would be no different from any other animals.
I then ask myself, If the nature of the Gazelle is to live as Gazelles do, then is the nature of man to desire more? To be arrogant, and vein. To think that one is greater then all others on earth. To strive for greatness? To "sin"?
Yes. It is.
And this has been admitted by many others... but only in the words, "Man is naturally flawed, or evil".
Some people hate who they are because they are human.
This is not right.
I refuse to believe in religion simply because it takes human nature and it tells us that we must be above it. That we must despise what we are for its flaws. The result has devastating results for people.
And yet, religion is a channel for the human spirit. Those who take it very seriously, strive not to strive. It's sort of an interesting cataclysm of purpose.
I digress. I mean to say that religion takes the question of meaning and says, 'your purpose is to be perfect, when you aren't meant to. But don't try to be perfect, or that defeats the purpose. Best of luck to you'
It offers an easy way out of the question for many people. It says, have faith in this, and you will mean something for all eternity. It offers that simple incentive.
That answer is not for me.
To say that we are all controlled by fate, and that i do not choose to type these words, but that they've been picked for me, is to say that there is something higher then us moving and placing our lives. For what force controls fate? Why does fate exist? Why is it called fate?
To say that fate is a constant, is to say that time is a constant, for as time moves forward, so, hypothetically, does fate. Unchanging.
And yet, time is not constant. It changes relative to your speed and position in the universe.
This is not simple. But i think I am less confused now because I know what question to ask...
The question itself is selfish and arrogant. The Gazelle doesn't ask why. It just is.
Why am I here? Is there a purpose to man? To my life?
I am tempted to say no. I am tempted to say that i should simply enjoy it while it lasts.
But i do not know.
If you ever figure it out, give me a call. I'd love to know.
There is something wrong with the world.
I can't explain why I feel like there's something wrong, when so many say it's right.
Each post is a piece to the puzzle.
Each plea a confused cry.
Just read.
There is a question that every single person confronts in their life. Few know they do, but some know they do.
What is the meaning of life? Why do we exist? To what purpose do we live?
It is a big question... In fact, maybe the biggest. And everybody has an answer, again, whether or not they know it.
Some say that we live because God wills it, and this is but a trail for our judgement for the rest of eternity. Or something to that effect.
Some say that everything we do is predetermined, and that the concept of choice is what keeps us sane, but that we really are just a planned existence.
Religion is a great thing. It has comforted billions upon billions of people who have lived. It has saved them from this question. And yet, I can't help but wonder at the practicality of it all.
To say that there is a divine power that we cannot comprehend in any way, shape, or form, is to say that we live for no purpose other than to live and then die. The way in which you lived, decides your eternal position.
Why then, do we as humans conceive time. Or anything at all for that matter? An animal does not understand the passage of time, it just lives. It serves its purpose exactly in the way that it was built to. It has no ambition, or sin, or anything. Do all other animals go to heaven then?
Then I ask myself, If the Gazelle was created, by a divine power, to graze and bound and it does, and it goes to heaven, what does that look like to the gazelle? More of the same? Or are other animals unfit for heaven? That very conception is against the way of God.
To say that God discriminated from one animal to the next, from gazelles to humans, is against his very purposes.
This leads me to believe that heaven is a goal. An ultimatum for someone to reach. A direction for life. But God is against that as well, or so I am told.
If God made man in the likeness of himself, why are humans flawed?
and if He made them to be flowed, then who are we to describe His ways? Our descriptions of heaven and hell and of God himself, reek of the human stench of aspiration and desire.
I then turn to the argument that Jesus, the son of God, described His ways to us, and that Jesus was not flowed. If we all make an effort to be like Jesus, and say we succeed, then would we not as humans turn back to the state of Gazelles?
We would be born, we would live well, and without fighting. We would hunt and gather, as man was meant to. There would be no drive to survive better then the other, and that would, in effect, make us no different from apes. We would devolve.
I find it Ironic, that without all the evil people in the world, we would be no different from any other animals.
I then ask myself, If the nature of the Gazelle is to live as Gazelles do, then is the nature of man to desire more? To be arrogant, and vein. To think that one is greater then all others on earth. To strive for greatness? To "sin"?
Yes. It is.
And this has been admitted by many others... but only in the words, "Man is naturally flawed, or evil".
Some people hate who they are because they are human.
This is not right.
I refuse to believe in religion simply because it takes human nature and it tells us that we must be above it. That we must despise what we are for its flaws. The result has devastating results for people.
And yet, religion is a channel for the human spirit. Those who take it very seriously, strive not to strive. It's sort of an interesting cataclysm of purpose.
I digress. I mean to say that religion takes the question of meaning and says, 'your purpose is to be perfect, when you aren't meant to. But don't try to be perfect, or that defeats the purpose. Best of luck to you'
It offers an easy way out of the question for many people. It says, have faith in this, and you will mean something for all eternity. It offers that simple incentive.
That answer is not for me.
To say that we are all controlled by fate, and that i do not choose to type these words, but that they've been picked for me, is to say that there is something higher then us moving and placing our lives. For what force controls fate? Why does fate exist? Why is it called fate?
To say that fate is a constant, is to say that time is a constant, for as time moves forward, so, hypothetically, does fate. Unchanging.
And yet, time is not constant. It changes relative to your speed and position in the universe.
This is not simple. But i think I am less confused now because I know what question to ask...
The question itself is selfish and arrogant. The Gazelle doesn't ask why. It just is.
Why am I here? Is there a purpose to man? To my life?
I am tempted to say no. I am tempted to say that i should simply enjoy it while it lasts.
But i do not know.
If you ever figure it out, give me a call. I'd love to know.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Confusion
There is much confusion in the world.
Confusion so great it distorts reality.
But what is reality?
I believe it is less what is real, or what is tangible fact, rather that it is up to perception.
It is a great thing that humans are all the same in some ways, for if they weren't then their would be no such thing as reality.
If people did not perceive things in the same way, then "fact", which in itself is a verified public opinion of a matter, would cease to exist.
Let me explain.
A man who is sane, in his own right mind, thinking the way everybody else thinks, who knows that the sky is blue, deems another, a man who thinks differently, and that the sky is red, insane. But if the world was full of insane people, then who would be right?
If a majority found the sky red, then in all the books, all the archives, would say so.
Maybe a less dramatic, and more believable idea?
The men who invented the airplane were the first. Up against all odds, the Wright Brothers were out to do what had never been done before, something for the birds alone. Before their time, flight was deemed ludicrous. Even though we very well know today that flight is as easy as $55 to Southwest airlines and a quick trip to the airport.
Reality before the Wright Brothers was no reality, but after, public opinion was changed, and it became a very real reality. Without public opinion, the world would be lost to war about who is right.
The confusion of what is reality, and what reality should be is a problem.
This is where morals come in. Everybody in the world knows what should be. There should be peace. There should be prosperity, and yet there isn't. The result is confusion.
And in confusion, people's realities become distorted, and then their are misconceptions and misunderstandings.
Which feed the cycle.
It is truly vicious.
Such a thing could not spring from nothingness. Its an abomination. It must have been conceived.
Public opinion destroys things before they start, and crushes ideas in the bud, but it also keeps us together.
There is but one thing to do.
There is a reason every child is told in adolescence to be his or herself, and to not follow the public opinion.
Those who succeed are above its influence and lead lives happily.
But those who don't suffer through life, deep down questioning whether what they are doing is right, and hating themselves for their position. When they grow old, and they look back on life, it is with regret.
Be an individual, but do not force it. This is no fact, this is but my own opinion, written for those who care to try it out.
The most dangerous people are the ones who use the public opinion as a device of their own.
For they are the sources of confusion. There are too many. And the result is the debacle of the world today.
It is a beautiful place. But I worry for it to last.
The hardest thing to do is to realize that your entire life has influenced you to be the person you are, and to see beyond these experiences.
This is not without reason.
I am still confused.
It comes down to the same old question.
What is right?
For eons, people have puzzled over the questions. All in search for a means to an end.
To one such person who has come up with some solution. Say, Confucius, Muhammad, Jesus, or Buddha I would ask...
To what end?
The end of confusion.
Why end?
Because it torments the world.
Doesn't this just make it worse?
Not for me.
What about others?
If they understood me they would be fine.
But what if they don't want to?
Why shouldn't they?
Because not all people are like you.
They should be.
Why?
Because I am happy. They are not.
But they aren't like you, even if they would like to be.
It's worth a try, isn't it?
Wouldn't that be a bit confusing?
Confusion so great it distorts reality.
But what is reality?
I believe it is less what is real, or what is tangible fact, rather that it is up to perception.
It is a great thing that humans are all the same in some ways, for if they weren't then their would be no such thing as reality.
If people did not perceive things in the same way, then "fact", which in itself is a verified public opinion of a matter, would cease to exist.
Let me explain.
A man who is sane, in his own right mind, thinking the way everybody else thinks, who knows that the sky is blue, deems another, a man who thinks differently, and that the sky is red, insane. But if the world was full of insane people, then who would be right?
If a majority found the sky red, then in all the books, all the archives, would say so.
Maybe a less dramatic, and more believable idea?
The men who invented the airplane were the first. Up against all odds, the Wright Brothers were out to do what had never been done before, something for the birds alone. Before their time, flight was deemed ludicrous. Even though we very well know today that flight is as easy as $55 to Southwest airlines and a quick trip to the airport.
Reality before the Wright Brothers was no reality, but after, public opinion was changed, and it became a very real reality. Without public opinion, the world would be lost to war about who is right.
The confusion of what is reality, and what reality should be is a problem.
This is where morals come in. Everybody in the world knows what should be. There should be peace. There should be prosperity, and yet there isn't. The result is confusion.
And in confusion, people's realities become distorted, and then their are misconceptions and misunderstandings.
Which feed the cycle.
It is truly vicious.
Such a thing could not spring from nothingness. Its an abomination. It must have been conceived.
Public opinion destroys things before they start, and crushes ideas in the bud, but it also keeps us together.
There is but one thing to do.
There is a reason every child is told in adolescence to be his or herself, and to not follow the public opinion.
Those who succeed are above its influence and lead lives happily.
But those who don't suffer through life, deep down questioning whether what they are doing is right, and hating themselves for their position. When they grow old, and they look back on life, it is with regret.
Be an individual, but do not force it. This is no fact, this is but my own opinion, written for those who care to try it out.
The most dangerous people are the ones who use the public opinion as a device of their own.
For they are the sources of confusion. There are too many. And the result is the debacle of the world today.
It is a beautiful place. But I worry for it to last.
The hardest thing to do is to realize that your entire life has influenced you to be the person you are, and to see beyond these experiences.
This is not without reason.
I am still confused.
It comes down to the same old question.
What is right?
For eons, people have puzzled over the questions. All in search for a means to an end.
To one such person who has come up with some solution. Say, Confucius, Muhammad, Jesus, or Buddha I would ask...
To what end?
The end of confusion.
Why end?
Because it torments the world.
Doesn't this just make it worse?
Not for me.
What about others?
If they understood me they would be fine.
But what if they don't want to?
Why shouldn't they?
Because not all people are like you.
They should be.
Why?
Because I am happy. They are not.
But they aren't like you, even if they would like to be.
It's worth a try, isn't it?
Wouldn't that be a bit confusing?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)