...
The meerkat jerks off furiously, until at the slightest noise, which is every couple of seconds, he is startled by the sound. Poking his head up quickly and looking nervously around, he ensures that all is safe and goes back to the activity. Finally he is exhausted from the effort and passes out on his back in the wide open, still as yet having reached the final climax.
It's a medical condition that always leads to his "demise." The meerkat's little shoulders eventually rupture from the frantic motions and stops and starts. [Poor little guy] That's the easy part. It's being eaten with a spoon by the female meerkats, who finally catch him prone and helpless, that really makes it a moving, life and life spectacle.
Public Safety Issues
All talk has to be silenced on any issues right now because there is a public safety problem outside in the streets here. I am not sure what is causing it, but the area is filled with vehicles.
Interesting typo: There's always something going on like this, and I never know what it is (not that it would matter). Fixed. Red lettering turning up on post correcting version. "Weird, wild stuff." My computer is possessed, bwahahaha.
Interesting typo: There's always something going on like this, and I never know what it is (not that it would matter). Fixed. Red lettering turning up on post correcting version. "Weird, wild stuff." My computer is possessed, bwahahaha.
Complicationing
"What about the money? Are they saying the official recognition papers didn't come through?"
"Oh, no, you're recognized. There's just a... liquidity issue," the accountant said as if he were afraid for his life.
"Don't worry, Marty. I'll protect you."
"No, Marty's dead. They. Did. Things. They want to know if you want his head to say hello."
"No, no, we'll just send a card. Make sure they get, uh, what do we have?"
"Hope and guts. No, really, guts. A little hope."
"Oh, no, you're recognized. There's just a... liquidity issue," the accountant said as if he were afraid for his life.
"Don't worry, Marty. I'll protect you."
"No, Marty's dead. They. Did. Things. They want to know if you want his head to say hello."
"No, no, we'll just send a card. Make sure they get, uh, what do we have?"
"Hope and guts. No, really, guts. A little hope."
wyrds
Rabble rousing is not as deprecated as it once was, it having been discovered that rabbles are good for nothing else but to be roused and roused further. At the point of ultimate rabble rousertude they become hurrahbles.
"""
The old spirits in the desert thrive off of the pain and desolation they are capable of causing when they inhabit human forms. They are almost impossible to locate or pinpoint, are impossible to catch without luck and God on one's side, and can not be killed by anything the average human has knowledge of.
"""
"What is that?"
"I don't know, but whatever it is sucks at being whatever it's not."
"Maybe it didn't know what it was."
"That's hard to believe. Look at that grotesque -- what is that? And the color... it's like vomit mixed with blood."
"Okay, Okay, no need to study it. Let's just get it out of sight somewhere."
"You mean touch it?"
"Yes, I mean grab it and bring it with us."
"I had the sinking feeling." Moves to grab hold of thing, "It'salive!"
"Hit it with something! Kick it!"
Both men commence to kicking and beating barely moving corpse.
Suddenly it reared up its head and shouted, "WTF?"
"It's a drunk! Run before it gets our change!"
Both men exeunt stage right.
"""
The old spirits in the desert thrive off of the pain and desolation they are capable of causing when they inhabit human forms. They are almost impossible to locate or pinpoint, are impossible to catch without luck and God on one's side, and can not be killed by anything the average human has knowledge of.
"""
"What is that?"
"I don't know, but whatever it is sucks at being whatever it's not."
"Maybe it didn't know what it was."
"That's hard to believe. Look at that grotesque -- what is that? And the color... it's like vomit mixed with blood."
"Okay, Okay, no need to study it. Let's just get it out of sight somewhere."
"You mean touch it?"
"Yes, I mean grab it and bring it with us."
"I had the sinking feeling." Moves to grab hold of thing, "It'salive!"
"Hit it with something! Kick it!"
Both men commence to kicking and beating barely moving corpse.
Suddenly it reared up its head and shouted, "WTF?"
"It's a drunk! Run before it gets our change!"
Both men exeunt stage right.
Embalming Fluid
We really should stop filling corpses with it and putting them in the ground, for all the right reasons: Metal boxes filled with slowly leaking poisons. It hurts the soil, the earth, everything.
Moor
heer iago
Wonder if the pun killed anyone.
And it only took three distinct attempts [Wednesday, Thursday, Friday] to get sound out of the synthesizer. Answer: Turn up the front volume on the newly installed KMix for KDE 4.3. Reset upon upgrade. Master volume still allowed other programs to output sound, but the synthesizer depends on the front channel.
Wonder if the pun killed anyone.
And it only took three distinct attempts [Wednesday, Thursday, Friday] to get sound out of the synthesizer. Answer: Turn up the front volume on the newly installed KMix for KDE 4.3. Reset upon upgrade. Master volume still allowed other programs to output sound, but the synthesizer depends on the front channel.
Hasta la Victoria Siempre
More sounds.
I always write stream of consciousness. Very often I touch on subjects too briefly (poetry messed me up, main). Sometimes readers are left with the wrong ideas. Once I've posted it's too late to take it back. For example, I preempted character attacks by spilling the beans on everything in my life that could be damaging (politics gets nasty). I did not spend the time on it I should have.
I also said I gave up music, and that's not true. I've always loved music. I did not abandon music for any years, although I did not make any for a long time. When I grew three feet in two years my fingers never worked right again, a coordination problem. Not being able to play strings again really did break my heart. So I just listened to everything I could get my hands on instead.
I've been trying to get a production level system like the one I have now since 1994. Being able to make music has been a long time coming for me. ((Now if I could just sing...)) Now I can sing and play an instrument, finally (apparently needed to get beaten up by a girl for it to come out), and everything to record with is FUBAR. *__*
I always write stream of consciousness. Very often I touch on subjects too briefly (poetry messed me up, main). Sometimes readers are left with the wrong ideas. Once I've posted it's too late to take it back. For example, I preempted character attacks by spilling the beans on everything in my life that could be damaging (politics gets nasty). I did not spend the time on it I should have.
I also said I gave up music, and that's not true. I've always loved music. I did not abandon music for any years, although I did not make any for a long time. When I grew three feet in two years my fingers never worked right again, a coordination problem. Not being able to play strings again really did break my heart. So I just listened to everything I could get my hands on instead.
I've been trying to get a production level system like the one I have now since 1994. Being able to make music has been a long time coming for me. ((Now if I could just sing...)) Now I can sing and play an instrument, finally (apparently needed to get beaten up by a girl for it to come out), and everything to record with is FUBAR. *__*
August Dreams
here
The name originates in recognition of the work of August Derleth, without whom many very talented writers of the macabre would never have seen the light of day.
The name originates in recognition of the work of August Derleth, without whom many very talented writers of the macabre would never have seen the light of day.
Mas
Here
I attempted to post some song code. First of all, it's enormous. Secondly, I would have to comment out every single line so Blogger won't treat it as XML. Nope. Sorry. Maybe a fix will come to me.
Hydrogen users:
I'm sure you know what to do if you want to use something. If you don't, then Add Instrument, go to layers on the instrument panel, add layer, voila.
LOL- My Last.fm account says I only played Johnny Cage once. I think I tripled the DiFranco with Johnny Cage. I should remember to scrobble to give a better idea...
Decided to never post a cracker how-to. I like freedom. Read Kaspersky.
I attempted to post some song code. First of all, it's enormous. Secondly, I would have to comment out every single line so Blogger won't treat it as XML. Nope. Sorry. Maybe a fix will come to me.
Hydrogen users:
I'm sure you know what to do if you want to use something. If you don't, then Add Instrument, go to layers on the instrument panel, add layer, voila.
LOL- My Last.fm account says I only played Johnny Cage once. I think I tripled the DiFranco with Johnny Cage. I should remember to scrobble to give a better idea...
Decided to never post a cracker how-to. I like freedom. Read Kaspersky.
Mashter Peaches
Liquified Erassers
Swallowed by the Stripped Naked Mix
Swallowed by the River (4trancers)
Rasputin's Extra Body
Sever the Strings
Cobbler in Cream
In Heavy Syrup
hmm...
My upload speeds yesterday were abysmal. The sound libraries will be uploaded when I forget the 6 hours it took to upload these songs, or tomorrow or something.
The Code:
It's all Hydrogen. Everything was done with Hydrogen. I have to post the xml files only because there is no file hosting here.
Eidos
You has founz mies eidos!
"""
DARPA:
We has cr8z weapons! Focus only on zee weapons... Focus only on zee weapons... Zair are no defenses heere... Zair are no defenses heere...
– Military technology limited only by advance directives. Cry havoc and set loose the dogs of geek defensive intelligence!
"""
Pray to the almighty dollar, for soon the dollar cometh and grace the pockets of those who have been faithful. This concludes your materialism sermon. That'll be $4,500, cash only.
"""
Stealth plane: The bottom is blue. Big savings on stealth. Also, play really loud heavy metal to jam enemy radar. [Cut to scene of enemy radar operations officer: Observing incoming plane, heavy metal comes through radar screen, glass bursts, sending glass into his face and eyes. He runs falling and screaming from the building as Chaos AD plays and the building explodes.]
"""
After much, much data collecting, the facts show even the most vanilla orgasm in the world can still cause sexual religious guilt.
"""
.
.
.
.
.
.
"""
Improving the Modern Drug Business:
Problem -- How would you conduct the business given the permeation of intelligence gathering capability in phone and net communication?
Two methods of doing business stand out as parts of the overall idea, and hinder many current tactics employed to combat the trade. The first method would be to go primitive and cease use of all modern communication methods, at the crucial stages of physical movement and surrounding heavy figures. The second would be to employ highly skilled networking and programming experts to conduct business in super-hardened Linux with proxying, tunneling and religiously paranoid encryption using foreign nations to house the servers and routers involved with data transmission. Mobile private, pirate cell networks figure heavily in the midrange physical distribution (primitive is too slow from there). There's a lot of money involved and no shortage of computer and technical talent all over the world.
As above, the best idea uses both, a fusion of highly technical and primitive. At the top it would be highly technical. Placing primitive data exchange between upper and midrange level distributors would be a technological firewall. Private, mobile, temporary cell networks would bypass any top-down commercial cell network monitoring.
Some law enforcement hindrances: Intercepting those communications would depend on monitoring cell communications everywhere, and is presumably doable. But catching encoded discussions would be a small success. Voice analysis would be the only way to identify some of the people if the discussions were encoded (I would encode them). Of course we mostly know everyone at the top already, so it follows... (trails off-- not interested in writing a howto).
So how much and where are all the drugs? Don't think the upper level cartels don't have intelligence too. Sometimes they give up juicy busts to draw heat off of what's really going on. There were some Las Zetas members busted in Houston not long ago. Do we really know how much of a dent that made? We can estimate, but knowing is much harder.
Of course we have a lot of eyes at the supply end in a lot of places on the planet. Then, how far does our control and knowledge go in hostile territory? It is impossible for us to know everything going on with the drug trade, even with all our technology. We still have assets who can and do get killed. It's far harder to track or control than any strategist would like.
Still working idea... (and taking the money out through rational legalization is definitely out?) ...after all these years.
[None of this is original - just food for thought.]
"""
DARPA:
We has cr8z weapons! Focus only on zee weapons... Focus only on zee weapons... Zair are no defenses heere... Zair are no defenses heere...
– Military technology limited only by advance directives. Cry havoc and set loose the dogs of geek defensive intelligence!
"""
Pray to the almighty dollar, for soon the dollar cometh and grace the pockets of those who have been faithful. This concludes your materialism sermon. That'll be $4,500, cash only.
"""
Stealth plane: The bottom is blue. Big savings on stealth. Also, play really loud heavy metal to jam enemy radar. [Cut to scene of enemy radar operations officer: Observing incoming plane, heavy metal comes through radar screen, glass bursts, sending glass into his face and eyes. He runs falling and screaming from the building as Chaos AD plays and the building explodes.]
"""
After much, much data collecting, the facts show even the most vanilla orgasm in the world can still cause sexual religious guilt.
"""
.
.
.
.
.
.
"""
Improving the Modern Drug Business:
Problem -- How would you conduct the business given the permeation of intelligence gathering capability in phone and net communication?
Two methods of doing business stand out as parts of the overall idea, and hinder many current tactics employed to combat the trade. The first method would be to go primitive and cease use of all modern communication methods, at the crucial stages of physical movement and surrounding heavy figures. The second would be to employ highly skilled networking and programming experts to conduct business in super-hardened Linux with proxying, tunneling and religiously paranoid encryption using foreign nations to house the servers and routers involved with data transmission. Mobile private, pirate cell networks figure heavily in the midrange physical distribution (primitive is too slow from there). There's a lot of money involved and no shortage of computer and technical talent all over the world.
As above, the best idea uses both, a fusion of highly technical and primitive. At the top it would be highly technical. Placing primitive data exchange between upper and midrange level distributors would be a technological firewall. Private, mobile, temporary cell networks would bypass any top-down commercial cell network monitoring.
Some law enforcement hindrances: Intercepting those communications would depend on monitoring cell communications everywhere, and is presumably doable. But catching encoded discussions would be a small success. Voice analysis would be the only way to identify some of the people if the discussions were encoded (I would encode them). Of course we mostly know everyone at the top already, so it follows... (trails off-- not interested in writing a howto).
So how much and where are all the drugs? Don't think the upper level cartels don't have intelligence too. Sometimes they give up juicy busts to draw heat off of what's really going on. There were some Las Zetas members busted in Houston not long ago. Do we really know how much of a dent that made? We can estimate, but knowing is much harder.
Of course we have a lot of eyes at the supply end in a lot of places on the planet. Then, how far does our control and knowledge go in hostile territory? It is impossible for us to know everything going on with the drug trade, even with all our technology. We still have assets who can and do get killed. It's far harder to track or control than any strategist would like.
Still working idea... (and taking the money out through rational legalization is definitely out?) ...after all these years.
[None of this is original - just food for thought.]
Return to Format
If you want politics, it's down on the far right. It's under the FLCL wall, where the header reads "What is she looking at?"
Tried to upload Mashter Peaches. Archive doesn't like my Nix. I've had problems before. Will do everything in my power to upload through my system. If that fails, then (sigh) I'll have to use a Winblows installation.
Tried to upload Mashter Peaches. Archive doesn't like my Nix. I've had problems before. Will do everything in my power to upload through my system. If that fails, then (sigh) I'll have to use a Winblows installation.
Dreams
"Sleep, those little slivers of death."
Another epic dream that took place at the edge of consciousness made those last three hours miserable. It deserves 40,000 words. Some places give home to kind spirits who have only benevolence in them. Some places provide home to kind spirits that are not averse to causing mischief. And in some places dwell bad spirits. Something evil in a dark place shouted at my fleeing, sleeping ghost. Pain reverberated through the core of my being, waking me up into Friday, December 4. Of course that was probably just my mind screaming at me to ignore the dream and LET IT SLEEP.
Another epic dream that took place at the edge of consciousness made those last three hours miserable. It deserves 40,000 words. Some places give home to kind spirits who have only benevolence in them. Some places provide home to kind spirits that are not averse to causing mischief. And in some places dwell bad spirits. Something evil in a dark place shouted at my fleeing, sleeping ghost. Pain reverberated through the core of my being, waking me up into Friday, December 4. Of course that was probably just my mind screaming at me to ignore the dream and LET IT SLEEP.
Murderface Press Conference
"You don't think we gave him too many pills, do you?"
"Yeah, I think we did."
Murderface still turned in a better presser performance than many carefully crafted disasters put on by career politicians. His twitching eye and incoherent responses were reminiscent of many real life press conferences, except funny instead of depressing. I'm putting together a Draft Dethklok drive for the 2012 GOP dream ticket. Idiotic wealth and violence... hmm.
[Note: Posting of image was not sanctioned by the Cartoon Megalopoly or any Cartoon Net-Totality affiliate.]
So Much Win
Kanji:
雌秀
[such a geek... but sweetness still tastes sweet]
AS Badassitude:
Bleach movies two Saturdays in a row. Memories of Nobody was the best Bleach since the climax of the first plot. The shortage of my favorite music sequence was totally eclipsed by a fantastic plot and Senna's character. Gina Bowes was great, even if Michelle Ruff has no equal (Her Majesty). [Even so, Ms. Ruff super-hotness and all, the English versions pale in comparison to the Japanese, always, in all things anime. And Fumiko Orikasa owns. She just owns.]
I did not care for Flomp. I also wondered what the hell was going on. Who are those characters anyway?
Now if I could just get MOAR uncensored Hellsing [cease and desist letters have been sent to anime sites regarding fansubs]. Wince -- somebody had to tell me the secret of Alucard's name. LOL -- seriously, I never noticed.
雌秀
[such a geek... but sweetness still tastes sweet]
AS Badassitude:
Bleach movies two Saturdays in a row. Memories of Nobody was the best Bleach since the climax of the first plot. The shortage of my favorite music sequence was totally eclipsed by a fantastic plot and Senna's character. Gina Bowes was great, even if Michelle Ruff has no equal (Her Majesty). [Even so, Ms. Ruff super-hotness and all, the English versions pale in comparison to the Japanese, always, in all things anime. And Fumiko Orikasa owns. She just owns.]
I did not care for Flomp. I also wondered what the hell was going on. Who are those characters anyway?
Now if I could just get MOAR uncensored Hellsing [cease and desist letters have been sent to anime sites regarding fansubs]. Wince -- somebody had to tell me the secret of Alucard's name. LOL -- seriously, I never noticed.
S'Bigots' Revile
Sound:
I'm going to upload all song code and all beat libraries as soon as I have a connection at my "palace." Everything should be easily modifiable at that point. If somebody doesn't like something, feel free to change it.
The next album is almost finished. It's called Master Peaches. Those songs are also beat based. It will be uploaded the very next time I jack into a real connection.
Further down the road is a compilation I am calling Drowning in Stupidity. It will feature a 100 verse song about United States Senators entitled something I have decided to keep secret for now. I have 16 verses of it done. Also included are the classics "Mengele Smiles on the APA," "Doctor Drug Dealer," "F***ing Useless" and "Make It Stop." Moving on...
"""
I miss politics.
"""
Communism:
My comments about modern communism had nothing to do with the system of governance in communist nations. I find labels of economic systems inadequate because people mostly want the same thing. Most people want some measure of material comfort and economic equality. The governments are not a joke, and if I had been able to sooner clarify my statement later, after the oversimplification slapped me in the face, I would have done so.
There was absolutely no intent on my part to slander the people, government or leaders of China, or any other communist state.
"""
In the spirit of Ambrose Bierce, again:
Hospital administration- the field that deals with maximizing profit from suffering patients and calling it better service.
My biggest fan's name is Lasko. Actually, he's my only fan. He only comes on when I hit him though, and works best when high. I mean on high. I think it's a he. Shes don't normally come equipped with five blades, and I've never met one called Lasko.
I had a dilemma the other day. I decided to take the bull by the horns, but then I couldn't get out from between them I decided to tell the bull, who was driving me ever backwards, a vague and tasteless joke. While the bull was puzzling it out I slipped away. The bull figured out the joke was about him and slammed forward in rage, thinking I was still there. It knocked itself out cold on a fence post. That'll teach it to steer me wrongly.
I was drinking coffee last week. It occurred to me that if I had been the person who made coffee for Karl Marx there wouldn't have been much talk of revolution. He and everyone else who drank it would have gotten intensely knotted shoulder and neck muscles punctuated by giggle fits and shaking.
Self deprecation has already been written [ so fonnee ] - world's least funny person comments
"""
"""
My whole grown up---ish life I've hurt myself when I lost my temper. I would usually punch things. "I. never. want. to. write. again." It wouldn't stop me if I lost the use of my hands though. I would use my tongue. I could get flavored keyboards. "Tyhmisd keeeeerybosrd gtashhhhtes gggudrd." Slobber, lick.
"""
Tropical Hatter - melted processed American cheese on a cheap toasted, buttered white bread sandwich with peanut butter, banana slices and strawberry jam. Go heavy on the peanut butter and cheese, and especially the jelly. Frost with large amounts of powdered sugar if available.
[Part of the sugar-fat bomb heart stopper diet.]
"""
Friday the 13th - A day during which I assume Final Destination is a real phenomena. I hole up in a room and attempt to not move very much. The electricity and glass windows still create grave concerns.
"""
"""
If anybody knows where to find the sex part of Being and Nothingness please make a note of it. I have been trying to find it for quite some time. Any assistance would be appreciated.
"""
Shades of Two-Fisted Tales:
"Then Murdoch drove the dagger and his arm deep into the man's belly and pulled out his appendix, dripping with blood and intestinal goo, which lay unmoving and extra in his hand in the red moonlight, as appendices all do. No pulsing or throbbing accompanied the grisly event, and the only witnesses were the sorrowful stars and occasional flying night predators."
"""
The other day while dragging my butt across the floor it occurred to me that dogs might do it because it's lazier than walking. Then I remembered they don't have tp. The thought made me uncomfortable, so I made an effort to pick mine up a little as I moved. It made me feel superior to the dogs to do so.
"""
Prosecutor - one who believes they are a judge without the accompanying responsibilities and legal moderations of actually being in that position.
"""
Infinity- sometimes represented by the lazy eight instead of writing out the word, can also be summed up as the process of rolling double zeros on a pair of 20 sided dice. [That's considered a divinely critical but unquantifiable hit, or a strikeout (based on pov), just as this definition will be. The event, however, exists beyond the ability to be repeated three times, or ever.]
"""
Make peaces, not pieces. Make evil love with flowers watered by the tears of pain filled hearts and time weary souls. Forsake only the soft spoken moderation of uncaring ideology, no matter the path that you choose. If one doesn't care enough to care deeply, why bother living at all?
"""
Thinks, rubs eyes
Considers rubs, sighs
Still wants love -- triesand never stops trying
Outdated Military Tactics 101: Run directly into the cannon and gunfire. Repeat until troop force is exhausted.
Further Music Credits
Brozman, Simpson, Bhattacharya, Hendrix, Clapton, Johnson, John Gilbert Day: Guitar work sampled with Audacity.
For Beatin'
New compilation entitled "Spigot of Evil." [Later note: I changed that to Spigot for Viva almost immediately, since so many people already have mistaken impressions about technology assisted music production.] This release follows in my lifelong tradition of using sinister names for my creative works. The music has nothing to do with evil, except that it's wicked beats. The title finally stopped making my friends laugh.
[Much Later: Okay, this may not happen. The upload has choked the satellite bandwidth on this connection, which apparently had a bandwidth limit. I'll describe it instead. I'll update if I can get it to upload.]
It's all sequencer work. It's easily high enough quality for pressing to 12" for DJ's, but it's all open source anyway. I've been licensing under non-commercial, but that's misleading. If any DJ's want to use anything for sets, and they can make money off of their sets, they are welcome to use anything I have ever created. I'm not granting permission for re-releasing the music commercially as stand alone tracks, but the idea of people making money off of it in sets doesn't bother me at all. If I can ever get it uploaded...
Incidentally, modern communism is a joke, and so was my Twitter avatar. If anybody can make money off of my work, any of it, it would make me happy. Many blessings. Just give me credit and share alike.
[Much Later: Okay, this may not happen. The upload has choked the satellite bandwidth on this connection, which apparently had a bandwidth limit. I'll describe it instead. I'll update if I can get it to upload.]
It's all sequencer work. It's easily high enough quality for pressing to 12" for DJ's, but it's all open source anyway. I've been licensing under non-commercial, but that's misleading. If any DJ's want to use anything for sets, and they can make money off of their sets, they are welcome to use anything I have ever created. I'm not granting permission for re-releasing the music commercially as stand alone tracks, but the idea of people making money off of it in sets doesn't bother me at all. If I can ever get it uploaded...
Incidentally, modern communism is a joke, and so was my Twitter avatar. If anybody can make money off of my work, any of it, it would make me happy. Many blessings. Just give me credit and share alike.
That City
The river city is a great place to live if you have money and no preconceptions. I said some things about my own personal experience there that reflected negatively on the whole place. It's really a lot better than the other places I have stayed, although the weather is horrible in the summer.
There are a lot of positive things about Baton Rouge. The plants and trees are gorgeous for most of the year, especially the spring. It's got a very mild winter. It's cheap. It's full of poor geniuses of all varieties. Seriously. The nation sees our bad statistics, so they miss the fact that we have a huge amount of intellect and talent in all walks of life there.
Yes, the city does apparently have a lot of cameras and observation planes (like every other major urban area) and lots of worthless information. Any one of those things sounds like a step in the wrong direction to me, and I feel that's massive. There's still hope the damage caused by the post 9/11 GOP strong arm political hijacking can be undone though. Not only that, the Red Stick is really typical of most American cities now (even more massive a problem) in watching the people, even if it's only passively as of yet.
Baton Rouge has good and bad things about it. My bad experiences are far from the norm there. I just thought I should be fair about it.
Also, LSU wins so often it's very degrading. Okay, it is funny. MUST TRY HARDER NOT TO CELEBRATE LSU WINS IN WRITING. MUST TRY HARDER NOT TO CELEBRATE LSU WINS IN WRITING. MUST TRY HARDER NOT TO CELEBRATE LSU WINS IN WRITING.
I do still have friends in the city. It was hard to find them. They're like rare, deep subterranean fish. "I was down in the Queen's Antechamber, 400 feet below the main cavern, when I decided to wriggle down one of the tight, unexplored passages. I hit water about 200 feet in. I found this little phosphorescent fish. It tried to bite me. Do you recognize him, everyone? We found our lost friend! It's Louis, the political office dodger!"
ah-chew
Recording now
silent meandering dissonance
explodes military armaments
war
dissonance becomes curricular resonance
blown apart simple talk
a solo act above ten solo stories
chief recalcitrant birthing specialist in training,
private agent
work calls even when he doesn't call back,
man does what he has to
lest keep on
leaf burn
warm simple pastime
encode to in chant to wafa kinned
freskinaided simpltUnechearterifivication
lungs fill and empty
thankfulness builds
even
moving along
sunrises
)
[po' infin'tee]
said
so
smile
the weight
every avenue explored
every possibility considered
in every detail
the load
juggle trailed strugglin fugglin jugguh-moron
toss it up, heft it
nothing learned only
finely gifted capitol ventures
handed out to the
celebrants
trashy, risqué
Suisse
Bien Bon
thieves
vivify
wOkE
Holy Grail, holy wholly, wholly
shorts tighter than skin
pink glowing sharp, high definition
woman
t-shirt too tiny to identify
spilling out
eyes crystal white in the night
black woman proud and sexed to the...
turn, someone else
2l82worry FiNe
oops, sorry, not blind
blowing up cloud cushions,
God brings cold
warmth to the frozen
ice standard rally
cold
loves
warmth
feed winter's womb
breathe death into yourself
frozen only
claims the unprepared
in minutes
the icycle minarets
stalagtices
salag-me-no-nice-is
unearthed fungus speaks
only ever says Blue
just
only ever
Blue.
The New Slang Standard
Some people think they are cool, and then other people find it funny how those people think they are cool, and even more people want to take the word "cool" and run over it with a Zamboni until it's a puddle of graffiti. Vice Magazine takes smack talk to an entirely new level. "Do's and Dont's" features trash talk from very creative angles. It's supposed to be about fashion, but like many photo collections some of the pics become a "would do" or "would not do" competition. Be prepared. Some of the pictures reveal just how disgusting fashion can get. Leg warmers and spandex are only a jumping off point for the horrors you will find. Discussion concerning the hallucinogenic frogs of the Amazon reeled in many readers two years ago, but since then it took off, because it's Vice Magazine. [Good photojournalism, so-so video, however.]
Latest Works
Another horrific ankle injury left me stuck in my room all week. Here's five new songs I created. It was way overdue for me to make some more music. All those music lessons go to waste when you don't work on anything.
[spent too many hours per day on this-- 19 or so, from the bed]
The first tracks I ever made, two years ago, were created using only LAME using BeSweet as a graphical interface. Everything created existed as only one track from start to finish. I got a lot better since then.
There's no way for me to record good quality instrumental tracks, but I finally got around to learning multi-track recording and mixing, to what extent I have done it so far. Hopefully the future will allow me to do this a lot more. This was a blast, as usual.
--
And MSWord on this computer won't convert Open Office documents. Now counting to ten. Okay. No writing upload today. I had a fantastic thing I wrote about Cylon Raiders and the use of feminist principles in their programming. Damn. You'll have to catch it later then.
The Lure of Easy Money
There were 6 shootings in New Orleans in the course of an eleven hour period. Just about every week somebody gets murdered in North Baton Rouge. Not every one of these acts of violence were necessarily directly related to drugs, but a great deal of them are. The following says a lot about the violence:
The continued failure to decriminalize drugs has led to huge numbers of deaths and incarcerations, and that's always apparent in the poor parts of the United States. 1,841,182 people were arrested for drug related offenses in 2007, nearly half of those for marijuana. The approach to controlling drugs in our nation laid out by George Bush Sr. has quite literally been an ongoing insanity, and a blemish on our national honor. The massive imprisonment rates for this crime of consent show how little human life really meant to the legislators who passed some of the most Draconian drug laws.
Our policies also greatly affect the lives of our neighbors in Mexico, and people throughout the drug production and trafficking areas of Latin America. We did not put guns in the hands of the men who killed 18 people at a Juarez drug rehabilitation center a week and a half ago. We have, however, created conditions that make drug trafficking so lucrative that murdering 18 people in one pop is worth it to some of the gangs. This makes absolutely no sense.
It would obviously be a tough sell to have heavy drugs decriminalized. It's every challenging politicians wet dream to have an incumbent opponent who can be labeled soft on crime. It's also easy to convince a majority of people that decriminalizing drugs would lead to widespread and escalating drug abuse, despite facts to the contrary from every nation that has done so in the past. Our policy gives our people no credit for their strength and will power in staying away from things that are bad for your mind and body. Maybe one day the political circus that runs our nation will stop deceiving the masses and begin governing effectively. Some still hope that marijuana, at least, will be legalized, even if it won't happen anytime soon.
Generalizing from the findings on Prohibition, we can hypothesize that decriminalization would increase the use of the previously criminalized drug, but would decrease violence associated with attempts to control illicit markets and as resolutions to disputes between buyers and sellers. Moreover, because the perception of violence associated with the drug market can lead people who are not directly involved to be prepared for violent self-defense, there could be additional reductions in peripheral settings when disputes arise (see Blumstein & Cork, 1997; Sheley & Wright, 1996).What does it say about our nation that we don't care enough about people getting murdered every day to change our basic approach to one of the greatest underlying problems?
The continued failure to decriminalize drugs has led to huge numbers of deaths and incarcerations, and that's always apparent in the poor parts of the United States. 1,841,182 people were arrested for drug related offenses in 2007, nearly half of those for marijuana. The approach to controlling drugs in our nation laid out by George Bush Sr. has quite literally been an ongoing insanity, and a blemish on our national honor. The massive imprisonment rates for this crime of consent show how little human life really meant to the legislators who passed some of the most Draconian drug laws.
Our policies also greatly affect the lives of our neighbors in Mexico, and people throughout the drug production and trafficking areas of Latin America. We did not put guns in the hands of the men who killed 18 people at a Juarez drug rehabilitation center a week and a half ago. We have, however, created conditions that make drug trafficking so lucrative that murdering 18 people in one pop is worth it to some of the gangs. This makes absolutely no sense.
It would obviously be a tough sell to have heavy drugs decriminalized. It's every challenging politicians wet dream to have an incumbent opponent who can be labeled soft on crime. It's also easy to convince a majority of people that decriminalizing drugs would lead to widespread and escalating drug abuse, despite facts to the contrary from every nation that has done so in the past. Our policy gives our people no credit for their strength and will power in staying away from things that are bad for your mind and body. Maybe one day the political circus that runs our nation will stop deceiving the masses and begin governing effectively. Some still hope that marijuana, at least, will be legalized, even if it won't happen anytime soon.
Reality
This city, not long ago a big cow town, has almost nothing to hold me here but force of habit. Every one of my friends who lived through the 1990's left long ago. All of the family I cherished here died or live beyond my ability to communicate with them. The places where I made friends in the past, the nonconformist hangouts and stoner retreats, have all been bulldozed and replaced by apartments and condominiums. Great big empty hole with a house in it -- Baton Rouge from my perspective.
I'm not sure why I haven't thrown my hands up and walked away forever. The place gets in your blood. It's like vampirism. I came over here in the rain to say this. That's how much fun my house is. No wonder I spent so much time trying to open up dimensional portals. [not really... it doesn't take that much time] LOL.
Did I miss something? I keep thinking maybe a big curtain was supposed to drop, and a beautiful young chick in a bikini would pop out and say, "Surprise! Your shit life was just a trick! Have what's behind door Number 1!" The woman never pops out. Tease.
And now for my next trick my life becomes so trivial the barest mention of it knocks people unconscious. That's what the military scientists have been hoping for all along. A powerful new Psy-Ops weapon, and the key rests in my dark, hot, empty crib. I hope they pay in dollars or snacks. I don't really need any more kind thoughts.
I'm not sure why I haven't thrown my hands up and walked away forever. The place gets in your blood. It's like vampirism. I came over here in the rain to say this. That's how much fun my house is. No wonder I spent so much time trying to open up dimensional portals. [not really... it doesn't take that much time] LOL.
Did I miss something? I keep thinking maybe a big curtain was supposed to drop, and a beautiful young chick in a bikini would pop out and say, "Surprise! Your shit life was just a trick! Have what's behind door Number 1!" The woman never pops out. Tease.
And now for my next trick my life becomes so trivial the barest mention of it knocks people unconscious. That's what the military scientists have been hoping for all along. A powerful new Psy-Ops weapon, and the key rests in my dark, hot, empty crib. I hope they pay in dollars or snacks. I don't really need any more kind thoughts.
Traditional Religion
For the sake of younger people it's important to state the importance of formal religious education in their lives. Getting an excellent background in the religion their parents have chosen provides the only sure way of making an informed choice about lifelong theological beliefs. Religion is no laughing matter to parents, and a lot of children for that matter. Developing an understanding of what their chosen religion really entails and means makes any sort of encroachment upon it by third parties or agencies absolutely impossible, and gives a moral foundation upon which to grow and excel at everything else in the world.
I took everything I learned about religion as proof there could be no God. The righteous condemnation of the Protestant denomination I rejected turned my stomach. Now, approaching the age of forty and very secure in my concepts of life and reality, I have never been so certain of anything as the truth that no God would want me to lie about what I can and can't accept in spiritual morality.
The path of atheism and skepticism I followed for 15 years was difficult, but not as difficult as admitting I think I was wrong about it. I do believe in the existence of what most people would call God. My concepts and definitions would never fit with standard religious approval, and that's something religions don't forget or take lightly. There's not much to be done about that.
I wrote this because here in South Louisiana the sparse number of writers may sometimes give my words a weight they weren't meant to have. Dark humor concerning subjects of religious sensitivity is not alien to my efforts. So, young adults and older folk, please understand I'm not poking fun at you or your religion specifically. It's the raw nerves of society that amuse me much more.
I took everything I learned about religion as proof there could be no God. The righteous condemnation of the Protestant denomination I rejected turned my stomach. Now, approaching the age of forty and very secure in my concepts of life and reality, I have never been so certain of anything as the truth that no God would want me to lie about what I can and can't accept in spiritual morality.
The path of atheism and skepticism I followed for 15 years was difficult, but not as difficult as admitting I think I was wrong about it. I do believe in the existence of what most people would call God. My concepts and definitions would never fit with standard religious approval, and that's something religions don't forget or take lightly. There's not much to be done about that.
I wrote this because here in South Louisiana the sparse number of writers may sometimes give my words a weight they weren't meant to have. Dark humor concerning subjects of religious sensitivity is not alien to my efforts. So, young adults and older folk, please understand I'm not poking fun at you or your religion specifically. It's the raw nerves of society that amuse me much more.
Focus
The greatest goal of my own, personal metaphysical spirituality was always to witness extraordinary spiritual manifestations. There was always the hope that such manifestations could even be created, given enough information, faith and spiritual energy. I achieved those things, very successfully, a number of times in my life. There almost seems to be danger in dwelling in that small field of metaphysics, because once achieved there really doesn't seem to be much reward in continuing the pursuit. This can all be called dreams, visions, hallucinations, creative imagination, or it could just be as simple as what somebody sees in the clouds. It's not how you see, or what you make yourself see, that makes the process so important. It's the weight you attach to your revelations that cause the machinations of religions and medicine and analytic reasoning to spin on their heels and take notice. If you see mice eating grain, in the afternoon it might rain. If you see seven legions of demons eating the souls of innocent lambs, it could be red skies at night, and possibly lots of fright. Snacks?
Bored now... until later.
Bored now... until later.
The Heavens Do Fear
Reaching out in the darkness,
So over pompous until confronted with true unknown,
Endless non-glottal gibbering echoes,
In the spaces beyond sight,
Down where the air pockets give out.
It's so simple that impossible just became real,
Nobody seems to have a problem with it.
All vocal analysis fails.
Meaning can't possibly exist in the tones.
Night fell, and the lights failed
Halfway into the first room beyond the first air shaft,
With only dozens more beyond.
Inside our minds the lights go even darker,
The place where seeing means freeing,
And darkness means never getting out.
Standing, breathe, cast aside need for tangible,
But the stone is there, the oxygen, the pain if one needs it.
The void likes to trick,
But reality is too quick for it if calm hearts and strong minds listen
To the beating heart,
To the world love creates in every moment of life.
The soul seeking passage beyond the pale
Will shut off all recognition of comfort, security and concrete existence:
There is no end,
Falling, nothingness, empty, all that is zero.
The leap into the great beyond breaks the barrier,
The wall between forgiveness and retribution.
Peace creates matter.
Thought creates the power,
And the sun rises in time for all to grow
Nourishing the wellness that will not let one fall from grace.
[Unless the one seeking passage
Could not find the inner peace
To leap into freedom from that dark place,
And the heavens do quake
At the thought of that.]
So over pompous until confronted with true unknown,
Endless non-glottal gibbering echoes,
In the spaces beyond sight,
Down where the air pockets give out.
It's so simple that impossible just became real,
Nobody seems to have a problem with it.
All vocal analysis fails.
Meaning can't possibly exist in the tones.
Night fell, and the lights failed
Halfway into the first room beyond the first air shaft,
With only dozens more beyond.
Inside our minds the lights go even darker,
The place where seeing means freeing,
And darkness means never getting out.
Standing, breathe, cast aside need for tangible,
But the stone is there, the oxygen, the pain if one needs it.
The void likes to trick,
But reality is too quick for it if calm hearts and strong minds listen
To the beating heart,
To the world love creates in every moment of life.
The soul seeking passage beyond the pale
Will shut off all recognition of comfort, security and concrete existence:
There is no end,
Falling, nothingness, empty, all that is zero.
The leap into the great beyond breaks the barrier,
The wall between forgiveness and retribution.
Peace creates matter.
Thought creates the power,
And the sun rises in time for all to grow
Nourishing the wellness that will not let one fall from grace.
[Unless the one seeking passage
Could not find the inner peace
To leap into freedom from that dark place,
And the heavens do quake
At the thought of that.]
Fever Dreams in the House of Madness
Sequence 1a.
Ceiling higher at front
slopes down behind bed with rising
sun blanket and crush velour
lion pillows, and a hippie girl
deals cards on a footstool
[well at the foot]
dealing seven, wedded heaven,
the oceans rise, the sky falls
the star in her eye is the reflection into another room
one where you do not exist.
The face in the mirror
in the wall beside the door
the entrance to the goat's womb of indifference
the unrequited lover does pine
in carefully staged visions
blood soaked with fantasies of revenge
betrayed by the endless truth that
she drinks success
and it makes her other lover more sweet
and worthy of her adoration
Sequence 2a.: Hounds at the Bay
Seagulls scatter to the wind in terror
As the hounds' howls break the morning still.
Atlantic winds whip the hunt's finale
Uncertainty tears from the ground into the sky.
The earth feels the coming onslaught of a deluge.
The beast is cornered in the grand birch thicket,
In the cemetary's fence by the old sailors' graves.
The predawn twilight never saw it coming,
And the shadows gave off tones of red in the still limbs.
The features of the creature were truly frightful
As it snarled and charged the branches ends
Along and vicious, and back and forth all threat,
Too clear to be mistaken,
The deep cavern badger,
Ashen and red fluorescent,
Face a horror show of anger and impotent rage,
Scowls as it glowers and spits.
The hunting dogs have finally won the battle.
Many lost pups and mothers of terriers rest easier
When the beast is brought down and slain.
2b.: Spatial Distortions
Time residue gums
the camera
blurs shadows polarize and
capture life, perform skits
for nitwits who sit unblinking and unthinking,
overreaching neuralyzed psychic vampires
smiling from the video's other side
the hidden world comes alive
no evils can be denied, no transgressions,
for in that place they've a sickening pride in existence,
even fleeing visions beyond light,
humility un-keeled rolls on decency,
and never kneeling falls dead
killed by something it shouldn't have said.
Nobody wants to know or hear
It's not at all pretty,
And the picture is oh so crystal clear,
It's me, it's you, it's all of us,
But shed tears and learn,
Slide aside the useless veil that was to have protected modesty,
And it's plain,
Blackness is smiling,
But it's because of jealousy
For what WE have.
2c.: Sculpted and Frozen
Cratered by the rain:
one tear hardening
glance and dismiss
foolishly floundering
no way to beat the subtle, nuanced admonition
ignored on the outskirts of care,
she cries.
Forgotten love left icy wastes
All through her heart
Where the dreams of blooming flowers once lingered
All the time.
The children played
And happiness, now so transparent,
Was never in short supply.
Her lonely sob forever wrenches itself
From the pit of her wistful and unfilled heart.
Time stopped,
Only to be stirred by the sun's first rays,
But that golden moment turned black.
The pillar moved no more,
Ashen before the realization
Of what her sons had done
In the name of war
In the burning garden no more.
Sequence 3a.: Rampant Eidos
The words get even smaller
the snail's trace glimmers duller
the thoughts of man glisten in the sun
salt for the weeping grass, cut by blades and regrouping
grown sad and stoic from the loss of all loved ones
Theory, conquest, decay, regret, failure
Defeated, pitied, forgiven,
Reborn of flame kindled when the oldest trees
Were the tops of distant horizons
When metal bent beneath cold unforgiving hatred
For the nothing in the caves before the burning and the blades.
And all perished who followed that path,
And all who will, hatred swallowing even the darkness.
The tiny laughter fights on regardless,
For the other way leads to nothingness no soul returns from,
And the reawakening soul finds humor,
Amused by all the transparent lies.
::::
[Just new stuff... about five more pages after this]
Ceiling higher at front
slopes down behind bed with rising
sun blanket and crush velour
lion pillows, and a hippie girl
deals cards on a footstool
[well at the foot]
dealing seven, wedded heaven,
the oceans rise, the sky falls
the star in her eye is the reflection into another room
one where you do not exist.
The face in the mirror
in the wall beside the door
the entrance to the goat's womb of indifference
the unrequited lover does pine
in carefully staged visions
blood soaked with fantasies of revenge
betrayed by the endless truth that
she drinks success
and it makes her other lover more sweet
and worthy of her adoration
Sequence 2a.: Hounds at the Bay
Seagulls scatter to the wind in terror
As the hounds' howls break the morning still.
Atlantic winds whip the hunt's finale
Uncertainty tears from the ground into the sky.
The earth feels the coming onslaught of a deluge.
The beast is cornered in the grand birch thicket,
In the cemetary's fence by the old sailors' graves.
The predawn twilight never saw it coming,
And the shadows gave off tones of red in the still limbs.
The features of the creature were truly frightful
As it snarled and charged the branches ends
Along and vicious, and back and forth all threat,
Too clear to be mistaken,
The deep cavern badger,
Ashen and red fluorescent,
Face a horror show of anger and impotent rage,
Scowls as it glowers and spits.
The hunting dogs have finally won the battle.
Many lost pups and mothers of terriers rest easier
When the beast is brought down and slain.
2b.: Spatial Distortions
Time residue gums
the camera
blurs shadows polarize and
capture life, perform skits
for nitwits who sit unblinking and unthinking,
overreaching neuralyzed psychic vampires
smiling from the video's other side
the hidden world comes alive
no evils can be denied, no transgressions,
for in that place they've a sickening pride in existence,
even fleeing visions beyond light,
humility un-keeled rolls on decency,
and never kneeling falls dead
killed by something it shouldn't have said.
Nobody wants to know or hear
It's not at all pretty,
And the picture is oh so crystal clear,
It's me, it's you, it's all of us,
But shed tears and learn,
Slide aside the useless veil that was to have protected modesty,
And it's plain,
Blackness is smiling,
But it's because of jealousy
For what WE have.
2c.: Sculpted and Frozen
Cratered by the rain:
one tear hardening
glance and dismiss
foolishly floundering
no way to beat the subtle, nuanced admonition
ignored on the outskirts of care,
she cries.
Forgotten love left icy wastes
All through her heart
Where the dreams of blooming flowers once lingered
All the time.
The children played
And happiness, now so transparent,
Was never in short supply.
Her lonely sob forever wrenches itself
From the pit of her wistful and unfilled heart.
Time stopped,
Only to be stirred by the sun's first rays,
But that golden moment turned black.
The pillar moved no more,
Ashen before the realization
Of what her sons had done
In the name of war
In the burning garden no more.
Sequence 3a.: Rampant Eidos
The words get even smaller
the snail's trace glimmers duller
the thoughts of man glisten in the sun
salt for the weeping grass, cut by blades and regrouping
grown sad and stoic from the loss of all loved ones
Theory, conquest, decay, regret, failure
Defeated, pitied, forgiven,
Reborn of flame kindled when the oldest trees
Were the tops of distant horizons
When metal bent beneath cold unforgiving hatred
For the nothing in the caves before the burning and the blades.
And all perished who followed that path,
And all who will, hatred swallowing even the darkness.
The tiny laughter fights on regardless,
For the other way leads to nothingness no soul returns from,
And the reawakening soul finds humor,
Amused by all the transparent lies.
::::
[Just new stuff... about five more pages after this]
Early Words
Sometimes it takes me hours to finish writing about one topic. Rather than leave one of these items hanging on another post, or waiting for the end of the day, I decided to chunk them out here. Yesterday was such a waste... Okay, then. Onward.
1. The Occult: I use that term sometimes when what I am really referring to metaphysical spirituality. That really needs some explanation. That's the bulk of what I'm addressing today. I never intended by using the term to conjure ideas of dark arts or magic, but just the idea of obscured knowledge.
2. Work: I can imagine doing anything until I feel how crippled I am. Given enough whiskey and pills I could go back to logging, but perhaps it would be in my best interest to stick with writing. That may upset some people I owe money to. There's nothing I can do about what I can't do.
3. Vow of Poverty: I took one in 1988, and have so far found no problem (zerooooo) adhering to it. As soon as I make it up to poverty level I intend to stay there. I'm in what is called sub-sub-poverty right now. I have a time share on lighting with the cars driving down the street.
1. The Occult: I use that term sometimes when what I am really referring to metaphysical spirituality. That really needs some explanation. That's the bulk of what I'm addressing today. I never intended by using the term to conjure ideas of dark arts or magic, but just the idea of obscured knowledge.
2. Work: I can imagine doing anything until I feel how crippled I am. Given enough whiskey and pills I could go back to logging, but perhaps it would be in my best interest to stick with writing. That may upset some people I owe money to. There's nothing I can do about what I can't do.
3. Vow of Poverty: I took one in 1988, and have so far found no problem (zerooooo) adhering to it. As soon as I make it up to poverty level I intend to stay there. I'm in what is called sub-sub-poverty right now. I have a time share on lighting with the cars driving down the street.
The Outer Rings
Biked out from the downtown and the river into the old neighborhoods of North Baton Rouge,
late Friday afternoon. There was no shortage of reminders of how incredibly downtrodden the inner city -- plenty of abandoned businesses and houses, and signs of poverty everywhere. I spoke too soon about the ruins being gone. They've just been pushed beyond the casual tourists' eyes.
It has come to my attention that nothing I can write will ever be free of errors. The only hope I have for putting out perfect copy rests in my dream of finding a beautiful young lady with impeccable English language skills to one day enter my life. Maybe she will take pity on my stupid ass, editing and correcting what I write so as not to be embarrassed that she knows me. We all have dreams.
Remodeling a house that's almost a hundred years old without lights or water demonstrates to me just how much fun it was before modern utilities entered the picture. The worst part is that it takes until 3 a.m. to cool off. The plan this week is to swallow my pride and do whatever physical labor I can find for money so utilities can be hooked up. All the education, manners and good intentions in the world won't provide a good job on a moment's notice, and the need for water is dire.
After beginning the remodeling I discovered there was enough hard wood used in the construction of the house to floor another three houses. Nobody ever built houses like the ones I'm working on (one of which I'm toughing it out in). The biggest obstacle is lack of a giant dumpster to fill up as I take out all of the acoustic ceilings, fiber walls and damaged sheet rock. It already looks better though. It's very rewarding making the appearance of your home change so drastically through hard work and caring. [Another commercial for goody-goody BS.]
On a side note, I perhaps spoke out of line concerning some events in Clinton, Louisiana last year. A few people made it clear (yelled, to be precise) that the involved parties may be upset about the discussion of that weekend. It was never my attention to shame anyone with the information. I considered it a law enforcement travesty, and still fail to see how that reflects poorly on the victims. It will never be discussed again here though.
A platoon of soldiers jogged down St. Phillip Street singing a cadence Friday afternoon after I posted at the State Library. Part of the cadence was "Country's still here, doing fine." That was good to hear. It's also looking at reality without thinking analytically. The derailing of the Fourth Amendment continues with massive public surveillance programs, and that was never a part of the United States that I am still fighting to keep alive (or revive, for that matter). I would still fight to the death for this place, but the Supreme Court needs about 3 appointments back toward civil liberties and middle left.
Incidentally, Twitter has been impossible for me to get into. It's just as well. I wonder if I said something people didn't understand. The reverse condemnation tac-nuke spell I used that day may have troubled some folks. It was just an outpouring of my total rejection of a lifetime of hearing school marm cackling about my occult fantasies. "And on that day the God said, 'Speak, and people will hear.' The mouse squeaked and the lion roared, and the crowd, quiet for only the briefest of moments, looked on deeply puzzled before returning to their slow march into the dust to which we all return." Book of J-Shannon 969:12-oh-yes-12.
I'm sure this is full of things that will bother me later. I probably got a dangling participle pregnant with a half-gerund somewhere. When will the travesties end?
Have a nice Sunday.
late Friday afternoon. There was no shortage of reminders of how incredibly downtrodden the inner city -- plenty of abandoned businesses and houses, and signs of poverty everywhere. I spoke too soon about the ruins being gone. They've just been pushed beyond the casual tourists' eyes.
It has come to my attention that nothing I can write will ever be free of errors. The only hope I have for putting out perfect copy rests in my dream of finding a beautiful young lady with impeccable English language skills to one day enter my life. Maybe she will take pity on my stupid ass, editing and correcting what I write so as not to be embarrassed that she knows me. We all have dreams.
Remodeling a house that's almost a hundred years old without lights or water demonstrates to me just how much fun it was before modern utilities entered the picture. The worst part is that it takes until 3 a.m. to cool off. The plan this week is to swallow my pride and do whatever physical labor I can find for money so utilities can be hooked up. All the education, manners and good intentions in the world won't provide a good job on a moment's notice, and the need for water is dire.
After beginning the remodeling I discovered there was enough hard wood used in the construction of the house to floor another three houses. Nobody ever built houses like the ones I'm working on (one of which I'm toughing it out in). The biggest obstacle is lack of a giant dumpster to fill up as I take out all of the acoustic ceilings, fiber walls and damaged sheet rock. It already looks better though. It's very rewarding making the appearance of your home change so drastically through hard work and caring. [Another commercial for goody-goody BS.]
On a side note, I perhaps spoke out of line concerning some events in Clinton, Louisiana last year. A few people made it clear (yelled, to be precise) that the involved parties may be upset about the discussion of that weekend. It was never my attention to shame anyone with the information. I considered it a law enforcement travesty, and still fail to see how that reflects poorly on the victims. It will never be discussed again here though.
A platoon of soldiers jogged down St. Phillip Street singing a cadence Friday afternoon after I posted at the State Library. Part of the cadence was "Country's still here, doing fine." That was good to hear. It's also looking at reality without thinking analytically. The derailing of the Fourth Amendment continues with massive public surveillance programs, and that was never a part of the United States that I am still fighting to keep alive (or revive, for that matter). I would still fight to the death for this place, but the Supreme Court needs about 3 appointments back toward civil liberties and middle left.
Incidentally, Twitter has been impossible for me to get into. It's just as well. I wonder if I said something people didn't understand. The reverse condemnation tac-nuke spell I used that day may have troubled some folks. It was just an outpouring of my total rejection of a lifetime of hearing school marm cackling about my occult fantasies. "And on that day the God said, 'Speak, and people will hear.' The mouse squeaked and the lion roared, and the crowd, quiet for only the briefest of moments, looked on deeply puzzled before returning to their slow march into the dust to which we all return." Book of J-Shannon 969:12-oh-yes-12.
I'm sure this is full of things that will bother me later. I probably got a dangling participle pregnant with a half-gerund somewhere. When will the travesties end?
Have a nice Sunday.
Ruins Gone
There are neighborhoods in Baton rouge where no landmarks from the decades before the civil rights movement can be found at all. Less than a mile from where I grew up in the downtown area there was once a federal housing project. Today there is absolutely nothing to be found of it. A lot of people think getting rid of the old falling down houses and bulldozing the vacant lots make the place look better, but there's a lot of history that becomes invisible forever in the process.
Somehow a huge hole burned in the side of my father's house during the three years I spent avoiding Baton Rouge like the plague. The house next door, which had become mine when I married long ago, now has flooring and plumbing problems. In all cases of the old houses I have been in so often in South Louisiana there is a long list of problems that need to be addressed, and never any money to apply to the tasks. Of course all that has to come after getting electricity hooked up [yeah, it's that messed up...].
The keyboard here in the State Library sounds like a drum set. The disruption it causes in the cool air makes me want to find a pile of sand and bury my head in it. And after all these years nobody has ever said, "Could you stop writing so loud on that computer?" I have often wondered when the axe will fall.
Earlier this week I attempted to revive a skater and biker tradition by beginning Baton Rouge Hell Tours again. The practice always involved going in the most bombed out abandoned areas to skate and bike late at night. Those areas have been pushed far away from the downtown area, probably to keep real life hidden from any tourists that should be enticed into wandering through the renovated areas.
I was almost to Ghost Town when a young man took offense at my presence. That usually didn't happen in the old days. It made my hair stand on end for a minute. Two blocks away the bike's flat tire went flat. The young man thought that was funny. I did too, later.
A lot of things have changed. The town isn't pretending to care about constitutional rights anymore, as near as I can tell from the turret cameras pointed indiscriminately at anyone and everyone who walk by certain points. I will provide pictures of those as soon as I get a digital camera to take a few shots of them. Apparently we have a big jump on the police state here in Baton Rouge. Our mayor wanted predator drones to fly over head at all times so that the area would know anything and everything that the citizens do. How very genteel of him. We'll have this free will thing licked in no time.
It drops to a comfortable 85 at night, with only 95% humidity. That's great sleeping weather after it keeps you up for a week and the fever dreams finally leave you drained in a puddle of sweat on the floor. Luckily the sirens at night never stop for long enough to make it possible for anyone to oversleep. The friendly emergency services crews are ready to provide inadvertent wake-up service to anyone sleeping with windows open and nothing to stifle the noise.
Last year in East Feliciana Parish, Louisiana, this very weekend, some atrocities took place. At least four guys got beat up very badly. There was rape and sodomy involved, in a facility controlled by law enforcement after Hurricane Gustav. In Clinton, Louisiana doing those things to prisoners became okay that weekend.
What happened to justice? What happened to the place where I grew up? What happened to my state, this country? I just don't know anymore. It's like even the ruins are being hidden, so all we can see is a big, fake smiley face.
Normal people (whatever that means): If you read this have a nice weekend. Sadists: Get bent. Death's not waiting for you.
Somehow a huge hole burned in the side of my father's house during the three years I spent avoiding Baton Rouge like the plague. The house next door, which had become mine when I married long ago, now has flooring and plumbing problems. In all cases of the old houses I have been in so often in South Louisiana there is a long list of problems that need to be addressed, and never any money to apply to the tasks. Of course all that has to come after getting electricity hooked up [yeah, it's that messed up...].
The keyboard here in the State Library sounds like a drum set. The disruption it causes in the cool air makes me want to find a pile of sand and bury my head in it. And after all these years nobody has ever said, "Could you stop writing so loud on that computer?" I have often wondered when the axe will fall.
Earlier this week I attempted to revive a skater and biker tradition by beginning Baton Rouge Hell Tours again. The practice always involved going in the most bombed out abandoned areas to skate and bike late at night. Those areas have been pushed far away from the downtown area, probably to keep real life hidden from any tourists that should be enticed into wandering through the renovated areas.
I was almost to Ghost Town when a young man took offense at my presence. That usually didn't happen in the old days. It made my hair stand on end for a minute. Two blocks away the bike's flat tire went flat. The young man thought that was funny. I did too, later.
A lot of things have changed. The town isn't pretending to care about constitutional rights anymore, as near as I can tell from the turret cameras pointed indiscriminately at anyone and everyone who walk by certain points. I will provide pictures of those as soon as I get a digital camera to take a few shots of them. Apparently we have a big jump on the police state here in Baton Rouge. Our mayor wanted predator drones to fly over head at all times so that the area would know anything and everything that the citizens do. How very genteel of him. We'll have this free will thing licked in no time.
It drops to a comfortable 85 at night, with only 95% humidity. That's great sleeping weather after it keeps you up for a week and the fever dreams finally leave you drained in a puddle of sweat on the floor. Luckily the sirens at night never stop for long enough to make it possible for anyone to oversleep. The friendly emergency services crews are ready to provide inadvertent wake-up service to anyone sleeping with windows open and nothing to stifle the noise.
Last year in East Feliciana Parish, Louisiana, this very weekend, some atrocities took place. At least four guys got beat up very badly. There was rape and sodomy involved, in a facility controlled by law enforcement after Hurricane Gustav. In Clinton, Louisiana doing those things to prisoners became okay that weekend.
What happened to justice? What happened to the place where I grew up? What happened to my state, this country? I just don't know anymore. It's like even the ruins are being hidden, so all we can see is a big, fake smiley face.
Normal people (whatever that means): If you read this have a nice weekend. Sadists: Get bent. Death's not waiting for you.
Cringe Fer-Foremen's-Isms
- Office worker wants to be friends with everyone. Catches other employees whene they leave their offices or cubicles for the express purpose of starting up conversations with them. Inquires about after work get-togethers. When given reasons (excuses) why such engagements won't work, does not take hint and attempts to reschedule the get-together to fit the coworker's life itinerary. Gets genuinely hurt feelings if told the other employee just doesn't want to mingle. Files petty complaints about such workers. Has been with the company over a decade, never gets dismissed by upper management over the antics.
- Carpenter cops an attitude about wearing safety goggles and following safety guidelines, because OSHA never meant anything "in the old days." Goes to the portable facilities regularly, for extended periods of time. Talks very quickly and excitedly after bathroom visits. Misses the backing studs with the nail gun repeatedly, resulting in 6 nails per juncture. Gets taken off normal carpentry duty to cut rafters. Cuts thumb off when the skilsaw kicks back on a curve. Sues the builder.
- Employee shows up for first day. Work history paints the individual a skilled cook. Worker always cuts toward himself. Pulls off hair net and combs long hair constantly, over the salads. Professes proficiency with commercial fryers, opens valve to change oil without a catch basin, while the oil is 375°. Knocks over a waiter carrying $175 worth of entrees for the mayor and his family. Gets a pay raise, over the objections of the head chef and everyone else in the kitchen, because blood is thicker than water. Good to have the right uncle, eh?
- Librarian who hates the job. Does not care about getting fired, so is constantly sarcastic, rude, and sometimes even nasty, to patrons. Puts folded up Playboy/Playgirl centerfolds in YA books favored by teenagers, to upset parents. Finds reasons to make lots of noise while the place is very quiet. Passes gas in elevator on purpose while it's crowded. Returns books to wrong places in shelves. The big boss thinks the employee is a laugh riot and takes the negativity as humorous, dismisses complaints about job performance. Being unable to get fired makes the individual even more unbearable, and the shift supervisor lapses into apopleptic episodes, which eventually causes the nice, honorable supervisor to be rushed to the hospital, have a sagging face for life, talk funny, suffer ridicule by teenagers looking at dirty pictures, sound moronic for not being able to explain why no books can be found in their proper locations, and commit seppaku by attempting to read everything ever written by Jozef Ignacy Kraszewski while drinking seven gallons of Creme de Menthe and swallowing phenobarbitol by the handful for nine consecutive days, with only caffeine to offset the lethal combination.
Grin ear and the smith learn of loss.
Terms of Noise Killing
Innocents hear sounds when they die a death of spiritual warfare. The intent of the maker of the rules must be consistent with the rules of the game between men who risk everything for principles. Absolute truth and justice resides with the maker, and anyone who blew the whistle knowing foul intent in the original design judges the design flawed... The execution of such a maneuver must be stopped to a dead standstill until every conceivable avenue of knowledge concerning that individual has been heard for all peoples, or the maneuver can not be executed. That is a soul killing violation-- when innocents are killed without a hearing, their experience in hell must be unblemished or the design of the condemnation reflects the designer.
[Yep. Unblemished experience in hell. You can't ever die when you get there, or you have to start again. This sounds like something familiar, maybe some sort of tangle of pop-culture references. I wonder what the author of the note I picked up and digitalized was thinking. Maybe they were listening to Cream Fields Amnesia and watching an upside down television during the Rachel Maddow show, with Spanish subtitles on.]
[Yep. Unblemished experience in hell. You can't ever die when you get there, or you have to start again. This sounds like something familiar, maybe some sort of tangle of pop-culture references. I wonder what the author of the note I picked up and digitalized was thinking. Maybe they were listening to Cream Fields Amnesia and watching an upside down television during the Rachel Maddow show, with Spanish subtitles on.]
Unscanned
Here's something from 1983 I wrote in red ink and signed with my own true handwriting, for some reason on Valentine's Day. It was just labeled with the date though. I must not have had a Valentine.
Some say he's the rival of Dustin, but I
say he's only Steve Martin,
Cause when I look at him left and I look
at him right, I know he's a wild and crazy guy.
Who else would say that horses don't neigh
and silk bikinis aren't a sin?
Some say he's the rival of Dustin, but I
say he's only Steve Martin.
cause when he puts on that Yugó accent, I
think he's heavenly scent, except for his
beady blue eyes.
Some say he's the rival of Dustin,
but I say he's only Steve Martin,
cause when I look at him left and I look at
him right, I know he's just a wild &
CRAZY guy!!!
Some say he's the rival of Dustin, but I
say he's only Steve Martin,
Cause when I look at him left and I look
at him right, I know he's a wild and crazy guy.
Who else would say that horses don't neigh
and silk bikinis aren't a sin?
Some say he's the rival of Dustin, but I
say he's only Steve Martin.
cause when he puts on that Yugó accent, I
think he's heavenly scent, except for his
beady blue eyes.
Some say he's the rival of Dustin,
but I say he's only Steve Martin,
cause when I look at him left and I look at
him right, I know he's just a wild &
CRAZY guy!!!
Travels
Trips taken at different times do not correspond to any everyday school and work experiences. They need to be listed. West. Florida. Tennessee. Colorado Springs, Point Vincent, Chattawa, Biloxi, Gulf Shores, Orlando, Cape Canaveral, Kennedy Space Center, Disneyworld, Natchitoches, Caddo Parish, Vider, East Caroll, Transylvania (Louisiana), Sangre De Cristo Mountains, Santa Fe, Taos, Cimarron, [said beef tornadoes... lol spelled tournadoes], Aspen, Boulder, Denver, camped in lightning storm in Rocky Mountain State Park, Mogollon, Gila, Sonorra Mexico, Creel Station, little towns with shuttered windows and nothing worth looking at, slick tires coming over the highest pass in Colorado – treacherous became sunny and bright, snow storm over highest pass in New Mexico, Northwest Corner of the State – Devil's Den State Park, Arkansas, Newton County, Buffalo River, White River, Hot Springs, Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain, Smoky Mountains Tennessee [(Martin D-28)], Louisville graveyard to see grave of my great great grandfather (Maternal mother's father), Missouri – Johnson Shut Ins (could never jump), Elephant Rocks, towns on the Mississippi, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Saint Louis, Chicago on a train, (slept through Memphis that time), Metropolitan Museum of Art (Dali sculptures show), Lake Superior, [very, very cold], rode to New Mexico on a train, got off in Santa Fe [some steep canyons on that line], great experience, gorgeous, Youth Hostel (smoked weed with old guy)(went to a nice restaurant)(dislocated knee at Brazilian Macamba dance and walked five or six miles on it to sleep at the hostel again) [ended dancing for a while so far] in Santa Fe, Asequia Madre, Canyon Road, the Plaza, took ride from Santa Fe to LA with New York girls (Trixie and a German girl)[they let me sway their trip too much... stayed in Hotel Weatherford, Venice Beach for a few hours, Alpine Texas, Alpine Colorado, El Paso, MacAllen, Juarez [3 blocks got lost, somehow got out with same ¼ ounce of weed I had going and coming], Carlsbad [they wouldn't let me go on the huge exploration route [with Sonny and Vicki and Sheila](wanted to so bad)], Roswell, White Sands (looked like two sand dunes from Destin to me), Destin, Fort Walton Beach, Pensacola, Mississippi Audubon Parkway, Poverty Point, Austin Texas, Amarillo, Kansas (eww), [Montana, Idaho,Utah, [dark until south of Phoenix] Oklahoma City, Little Rock] Little Rock, Hot Springs, Tulsa , Columbia Missouri, Knoxville Tennessee, Norwood, Centerville, Woodville, South Louisiana towns (but not all), Pueblo Colorado, Chiracahua Mountains, open mine Bisbee, Tombstone, Silver City, Tucumcari, Houston, Dallas, Columbia Texas, Langtry, Big Ben, Pedernales River, San Antonio, Tallulah, Lake Providence, Arkansas: Magnolia, Camden, Fordyce, Pine Bluff, Pascagoula, Hattiesburg, Brookhaven, Gulfport, Columbia, Picayune [Audbon's travels route], Southeast Mississippi archaeology route, Arkansas by wandering [?]. Very importantly: Tecalote, Las Vegas NM. And all routes that changed over time between towns and places linked to the journeys I have mentioned.
The heart of America guards its own identity as culture, places, and society dictate.
The heart of America guards its own identity as culture, places, and society dictate.
Conflict and Evolutionary Theory
Thesis: Conflict served as propagating factors for the development of civilization almost as much as hunger. Territoriality, especially as pertaining to sex between early men and women, drove men wild with the desire to excel, for defense, revenge and jealousy, and a whole host of other factors. These are emotions in their most primal state. Eat, frak, kill, win, celebrate [vulgar body things], repeat without kill unless it becomes necessary. [Frak is always win.]
Frak is new F word.
Frak is new F word.
Spiritual Pandrogyny
There is a being created from the sexual union of two beloved people. Its existence can be terrifying. It's existence can be so holy it shines like a light. If there is a name people have chosen to call it, then surely love exists in the derivation of the idea. The name has not made itself available to me [starts with something...]. It may be a billion faceted awareness that spawns and dissolves anew with each creation and fulfillment. People have lost their sanity and their souls in pursuit of a way to force it into existence. The smallest simplest answer... if you know it, then truly you have been blessed.
Liet-Kynes Ghola II: Safety Tips
Don't forget to drink your pee to live!
Brought to you by:
"For he is the Kwisatz Haderach Stillsuit Diapers. Soon the rains will fall!"®
Brought to you by:
"For he is the Kwisatz Haderach Stillsuit Diapers. Soon the rains will fall!"®
rest
troubled children
the angels on your shoulders
guide your ways
the shepherds on the fields
will never let you get lost
the love and the tenderness
you feel the moment
you feel
innocence
purity
didn't you know?
all those who are good protect it
and the wolves can not hide anywhere but in their caves
far away from the open eyes
and ready weapons
of those who would protect the flock
the angels on your shoulders
guide your ways
the shepherds on the fields
will never let you get lost
the love and the tenderness
you feel the moment
you feel
innocence
purity
didn't you know?
all those who are good protect it
and the wolves can not hide anywhere but in their caves
far away from the open eyes
and ready weapons
of those who would protect the flock
Roll Call of the Lesser Devils 137
137.
The Orogeny of Meaning
Part Ⅰ
explain,
order the chaos
harmonize naturally organize.
free the everything
suffering song bird soul sing
dark reaper blood drinker harvesting
cross come forward bow down
be inclined
requires only lying
no truth in you
be unkind, tell the mean lie
but far from a painful sigh
makes hearts flutter
kiss
the mouth, the tongue, the lips
much more primitive
you need this and Aye
lovers seeking like animals
only guilt makes the act inhibitive
all confronted past mistakes
those came before
how long is it that pleasure takes?
with emotion condemnation
impossibility in devotion
sexual energy condensing
pulsating
predestination limit further finite
lingua mostly cunning
cunnilingus
but of course you saw that coming
and comes and comes:
We were always meant to be together.
When placed before the terrible beauty
Of our own existence,
Primitive
Means
Advanced.
It's been said already
Free your mind.
Cower in unnecessary cobwebs
latticed existence, bannisters, railings
buttressed by
Will release the vision of the unity
That burns like the fresh winter snow.
preferability meaning yesterday
rocking lullaby words
beauty alone
Springs from love of the universe
a thematic regularity
off course that ceases
inextricably linked,
criss-crossed
with communicative expression.
only by personal choice
flooded by personal desires
refused all ire amid refuse fires
burning all love letters Aye sent to Mi
the idea flood circle the living sphere
all such presupposed knowledge
voices itself
orderly explanations
gift wrapped routine presents
a recurring daily scheduled presence
rap upon the box's door
wrap yourself up in a coat of many colors
construction workers' treats
tender, succulent, pink sweet meat
given that the present exists
merely as a springboard to past and future
even hatred relents when retribution
spirals back in upon the hatred
nobody wants to claim the
vanilla bean white bread soylent disgust
they dreamed up on their own
while the truth took a shower
and set off into the hills to roam
those two just above Rome
it's not too late to think about it
if you can think about it
when it gets that way
there will be remorse
and sorrow
as the purging flames follow
their natural course
you scream
caveat reveals no meaning
vacuum unified existence
Room 12b
vacuuming a strangers dead skin shed
so it can become a plant again
But how this leads to seeming weird
usage of terms
Past and future
create disunion in 8 dimensions
turned on its side
split and tearing down 32
numbers games and place ace aces
tear drop nose rings in pretty young faces
breaks into two parts
half of the whole
buried in a hole new way to die
implacably torn apart, in pain
and paying the rent on rent asunder
next step a nexus
creating a framework for an office in Texas
where the most evil
wear ear rings made from dead boll weevils
sized to fit, tiny foreheads with an 18 pitch
pitching another hissy fit
man in history ill will work
far more conducive
extraplanetary dabbling
traced to networks identifying
that which we think of as
ultimate now
a satellite lens, a milking cow
she sat, got a light, lends a smile,
and wow,
she knows how good she looks, and how
future present method eulogized
buy one which one describes
the death of the occidental tourist
an occurrence, an oxidation purist
that has knots yet
taken to a place and kept very still
ordered to catch and delivering still
the fullness of the moment
one twinkled eye looks forward anxiously
and another one to the rear
the method has a half-life
of porcelain cleansing after thoughts
always too close too near
patience came completely undone
upon arrival of the tiny ideas
swimming in unison
the product of centuries old venereal want
how could she look forward
without ever looking back
at all the fun in the rear view mirror
When will it always be here already?
right after and before it comes
The present, then, we can’t be divided
or separated
one creature under pleasure
indivisible, with proof
uncanny places touched
oh perfect,
seek an explanation means
gods, don't stop
division of the cells, the self, the attention getting
intersected with temporal conjecture
take the love and with it inject your mind
with hardcore reality, the gravity of the act,
alone all solo flying brazen blossoming
verbal expressions loosed like thousands of tiny arrows
aimed at visual interpretations
audio reception, huoh huoh huoh,
physical potential mystical intentional
a specific point in space taking up no units
divided and divided and divided it all comes together
at the center here is nothing
wrapped around and emptiness
opening doors into places nobody has ever seen
doors and hallways never built
searching inside finds nothing
searching outside finds nothing
it's all balanced on an edge wrapped through light
winking lasers skimming out of sight
a living sentient creature
knows no beginning nor ever an end
divine awareness a childhood friend
the whole place speaks to you
from you know not where
a great many things are said
but you do not dare
repeat a silent syllable of it
to digest and digress through these terms
to caress
gives us ideas
it's nothing less
we are only our senses
our eyes our ides
If we are at all frightened
it's not time to die
To digress even further
Might lead one blather on and blunder
experience utter self familiarity,
Even question the existence of other people's garity
To believe that he or she
(darn, which is it?)
Is alone
Singular in the mind of the gods,
And if that were true
Then what gods could there be
besides the one true self,
Crying out to see another self
joined forever as one and happy
and by seeing that doom the notion
That the universe belongs
to anyone.
The Orogeny of Meaning
Part Ⅰ
explain,
order the chaos
harmonize naturally organize.
free the everything
suffering song bird soul sing
dark reaper blood drinker harvesting
cross come forward bow down
be inclined
requires only lying
no truth in you
be unkind, tell the mean lie
but far from a painful sigh
makes hearts flutter
kiss
the mouth, the tongue, the lips
much more primitive
you need this and Aye
lovers seeking like animals
only guilt makes the act inhibitive
all confronted past mistakes
those came before
how long is it that pleasure takes?
with emotion condemnation
impossibility in devotion
sexual energy condensing
pulsating
predestination limit further finite
lingua mostly cunning
cunnilingus
but of course you saw that coming
and comes and comes:
We were always meant to be together.
When placed before the terrible beauty
Of our own existence,
Primitive
Means
Advanced.
It's been said already
Free your mind.
Cower in unnecessary cobwebs
latticed existence, bannisters, railings
buttressed by
Will release the vision of the unity
That burns like the fresh winter snow.
preferability meaning yesterday
rocking lullaby words
beauty alone
Springs from love of the universe
a thematic regularity
off course that ceases
inextricably linked,
criss-crossed
with communicative expression.
only by personal choice
flooded by personal desires
refused all ire amid refuse fires
burning all love letters Aye sent to Mi
the idea flood circle the living sphere
all such presupposed knowledge
voices itself
orderly explanations
gift wrapped routine presents
a recurring daily scheduled presence
rap upon the box's door
wrap yourself up in a coat of many colors
construction workers' treats
tender, succulent, pink sweet meat
given that the present exists
merely as a springboard to past and future
even hatred relents when retribution
spirals back in upon the hatred
nobody wants to claim the
vanilla bean white bread soylent disgust
they dreamed up on their own
while the truth took a shower
and set off into the hills to roam
those two just above Rome
it's not too late to think about it
if you can think about it
when it gets that way
there will be remorse
and sorrow
as the purging flames follow
their natural course
you scream
caveat reveals no meaning
vacuum unified existence
Room 12b
vacuuming a strangers dead skin shed
so it can become a plant again
But how this leads to seeming weird
usage of terms
Past and future
create disunion in 8 dimensions
turned on its side
split and tearing down 32
numbers games and place ace aces
tear drop nose rings in pretty young faces
breaks into two parts
half of the whole
buried in a hole new way to die
implacably torn apart, in pain
and paying the rent on rent asunder
next step a nexus
creating a framework for an office in Texas
where the most evil
wear ear rings made from dead boll weevils
sized to fit, tiny foreheads with an 18 pitch
pitching another hissy fit
man in history ill will work
far more conducive
extraplanetary dabbling
traced to networks identifying
that which we think of as
ultimate now
a satellite lens, a milking cow
she sat, got a light, lends a smile,
and wow,
she knows how good she looks, and how
future present method eulogized
buy one which one describes
the death of the occidental tourist
an occurrence, an oxidation purist
that has knots yet
taken to a place and kept very still
ordered to catch and delivering still
the fullness of the moment
one twinkled eye looks forward anxiously
and another one to the rear
the method has a half-life
of porcelain cleansing after thoughts
always too close too near
patience came completely undone
upon arrival of the tiny ideas
swimming in unison
the product of centuries old venereal want
how could she look forward
without ever looking back
at all the fun in the rear view mirror
When will it always be here already?
right after and before it comes
The present, then, we can’t be divided
or separated
one creature under pleasure
indivisible, with proof
uncanny places touched
oh perfect,
seek an explanation means
gods, don't stop
division of the cells, the self, the attention getting
intersected with temporal conjecture
take the love and with it inject your mind
with hardcore reality, the gravity of the act,
alone all solo flying brazen blossoming
verbal expressions loosed like thousands of tiny arrows
aimed at visual interpretations
audio reception, huoh huoh huoh,
physical potential mystical intentional
a specific point in space taking up no units
divided and divided and divided it all comes together
at the center here is nothing
wrapped around and emptiness
opening doors into places nobody has ever seen
doors and hallways never built
searching inside finds nothing
searching outside finds nothing
it's all balanced on an edge wrapped through light
winking lasers skimming out of sight
a living sentient creature
knows no beginning nor ever an end
divine awareness a childhood friend
the whole place speaks to you
from you know not where
a great many things are said
but you do not dare
repeat a silent syllable of it
to digest and digress through these terms
to caress
gives us ideas
it's nothing less
we are only our senses
our eyes our ides
If we are at all frightened
it's not time to die
To digress even further
Might lead one blather on and blunder
experience utter self familiarity,
Even question the existence of other people's garity
To believe that he or she
(darn, which is it?)
Is alone
Singular in the mind of the gods,
And if that were true
Then what gods could there be
besides the one true self,
Crying out to see another self
joined forever as one and happy
and by seeing that doom the notion
That the universe belongs
to anyone.
In Guatemala as a Youth
When I was in Guatemala in 1983 at the tail end of a long civil war, and not extremely long after the devastating earthquake in the 1970's, the culture was friendly and the climate was perfect. I was only 12 years old when plans for the trip got underway. I went there without my parents. I've never stopped wanting to return.
I stayed on a coffee plantation owned by a close friend of the family. He was an architect, and was educated in Louisiana. Unfortunately I drank from a well on the plantation and contracted Montezuma's revenge, the real variety of which is entirely amoebic in nature, is not contagious and has nothing to do with food.
The ruins of old stone churches and haciendas in Antigua have provided a lifetime of ponderance. One of the world's highest lakes is also in Guatemala, Lake TenochtÃtlan. The air up there was spectacular.
I was too young to go where I really wanted to, apparently. I did not muster the voice to clamor for a visit to that house. I didn't stop hating myself over that for a long time. Later I found out there was no place of ill repute, and that the whole concept had been dangled in front of me just to make old people laugh. So very funny. *__*
We were unable to go into the northern jungle. The jungles of Central and South America can be dangerous in more ways than one. I got great historical photographs of the Mayan pyramids in those jungles as a consolation prize. The area surrounding them looks nothing at all like it did before clearing and restoration of the sites started. People can go see them now.
The antique dealers and book sellers in Ciudad Antigua have mind boggling deals. That city also serves as a trade center for the gorgeous textiles of the highland Indians. My host for the trip, the architect Vides, designed one of the five star hotels there. The accomodations are out of this world.
-
I was studying the Montessori Method and Jungian educational theory last night. The elevator became sort of frightening on the way down from the third floor stacks at the Middleton Library at Louisiana State University. We on the elevator disembarked with great haste as soon as the doors opened. ('011)
I stayed on a coffee plantation owned by a close friend of the family. He was an architect, and was educated in Louisiana. Unfortunately I drank from a well on the plantation and contracted Montezuma's revenge, the real variety of which is entirely amoebic in nature, is not contagious and has nothing to do with food.
The ruins of old stone churches and haciendas in Antigua have provided a lifetime of ponderance. One of the world's highest lakes is also in Guatemala, Lake TenochtÃtlan. The air up there was spectacular.
I was too young to go where I really wanted to, apparently. I did not muster the voice to clamor for a visit to that house. I didn't stop hating myself over that for a long time. Later I found out there was no place of ill repute, and that the whole concept had been dangled in front of me just to make old people laugh. So very funny. *__*
We were unable to go into the northern jungle. The jungles of Central and South America can be dangerous in more ways than one. I got great historical photographs of the Mayan pyramids in those jungles as a consolation prize. The area surrounding them looks nothing at all like it did before clearing and restoration of the sites started. People can go see them now.
The antique dealers and book sellers in Ciudad Antigua have mind boggling deals. That city also serves as a trade center for the gorgeous textiles of the highland Indians. My host for the trip, the architect Vides, designed one of the five star hotels there. The accomodations are out of this world.
-
I was studying the Montessori Method and Jungian educational theory last night. The elevator became sort of frightening on the way down from the third floor stacks at the Middleton Library at Louisiana State University. We on the elevator disembarked with great haste as soon as the doors opened. ('011)
A True Story
My grandmother said I killed my father. Such a thing was not possible. Somewhere someone took her very seriously. It nearly killed me when he died. I wanted nothing of his. I wanted no material possessions. I did not want his real estate property. I wanted none of it. I threw all of it away that I could. I'm still trying to throw the real estate out the window. I would have killed many men to keep him alive. My entire life is open. Take what you want away from this with you. No one has permission to disturb what is sacred between a father and a son.
Fringe Performances
1. Go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with a whiskey pint bottle half filled with watered down coke, so that it looks like whiskey. Try to hide swigs from it as people start talking. Begin talking when you feel up to it. Work in things like this: "I really think I could have a chance in this program if I could just make it through the first few minutes (swig). Hey! Why isn't there any coffee? Isn't there supposed to be coffee at these things? I'm going to need that if I'm going to stay awake through an hour of this."
[This from somebody who checked himself into a detox center, while absolutely clean and sober, because it was too expensive to run air conditioning during one of the worst heat waves in Louisiana history. They had not only air conditioning, but free food too. That individual left -- the temptation to make up bigger and better stories was just too great (not to mention the temptation posed by a certain young lady also there.)]
2. Wondering if anyone has ever seen a live performance from a "techno" band. Do people realize that the musicians play drums and instruments to the extreme for some of those recordings? Just because it sounds perfect doesn't mean it wasn't created live. It is the heighth of arrogance to assume that computer assisted production of finalized musical copy makes it any less real. In fact, many people might be surprised by how many "bands" using instruments were created by ONE person only.
3. Go to criminal court once or twice a week for a couple of weeks (or every day, if you aren't scared of dying of boredom -- it's a great way to learn decorum and statutory procedures). On the third week fall down when the bailiff says all rise. Be sure to have a shirt with pockets on, filled with marbles. Make sure all the marbles come out on the floor. Pick them up clumsily for the first few minutes of court. If you feel really ballsy do something similar the next week.
4. Go to an art opening. Find a piece of random, harmless, abstract art. Begin protesting the vulgarity of it loudly. Make sure to have a cell phone. Call actual people who might be offended by vulgarity at an art show (Christian organizations, right wing bastions of society). Make a real stink. The artist will hate you for it at the time, but love you later.
5. Take a little baggie of small round green seeds out into a very public place. Try to look as sneaky as possible while planting the seeds in open landscapes. Look over your shoulder. Hide in the bushes as you take the baggie in and out of your pocket. Run if you see law enforcement, or just to make sure some get called.
6. While at the doctor for an injury, after receiving a prescription begin talking loudly about how opiates help your sex life. Mention how they give you unbelievable staying power. Try to engage a nurse in the dialog if at all possible. Try not to do it if you are using your real name, or close to home. You may never get anything again.
7. unrelated - News carried a long story about the gang "The 18" in El Salvador. They called it the largest gang in the world. What about the Sandinistas? La Familia has nothing to do with any criminal organization. It's self defense when men who have committed crimes of consent tell authorities that. I will not give voice to the organization's name. I have values. News: Very frequently untrue in the places I frequent. No lawsuit can be filed against an organization for spreading name unspecific rumors, and there is no way to hold the owners of news organizations accountable. They are quite above the law. I've done my best to separate fact from fiction here, but it is very difficult when every source may be corrupt and often is.
[This from somebody who checked himself into a detox center, while absolutely clean and sober, because it was too expensive to run air conditioning during one of the worst heat waves in Louisiana history. They had not only air conditioning, but free food too. That individual left -- the temptation to make up bigger and better stories was just too great (not to mention the temptation posed by a certain young lady also there.)]
2. Wondering if anyone has ever seen a live performance from a "techno" band. Do people realize that the musicians play drums and instruments to the extreme for some of those recordings? Just because it sounds perfect doesn't mean it wasn't created live. It is the heighth of arrogance to assume that computer assisted production of finalized musical copy makes it any less real. In fact, many people might be surprised by how many "bands" using instruments were created by ONE person only.
3. Go to criminal court once or twice a week for a couple of weeks (or every day, if you aren't scared of dying of boredom -- it's a great way to learn decorum and statutory procedures). On the third week fall down when the bailiff says all rise. Be sure to have a shirt with pockets on, filled with marbles. Make sure all the marbles come out on the floor. Pick them up clumsily for the first few minutes of court. If you feel really ballsy do something similar the next week.
4. Go to an art opening. Find a piece of random, harmless, abstract art. Begin protesting the vulgarity of it loudly. Make sure to have a cell phone. Call actual people who might be offended by vulgarity at an art show (Christian organizations, right wing bastions of society). Make a real stink. The artist will hate you for it at the time, but love you later.
5. Take a little baggie of small round green seeds out into a very public place. Try to look as sneaky as possible while planting the seeds in open landscapes. Look over your shoulder. Hide in the bushes as you take the baggie in and out of your pocket. Run if you see law enforcement, or just to make sure some get called.
6. While at the doctor for an injury, after receiving a prescription begin talking loudly about how opiates help your sex life. Mention how they give you unbelievable staying power. Try to engage a nurse in the dialog if at all possible. Try not to do it if you are using your real name, or close to home. You may never get anything again.
7. unrelated - News carried a long story about the gang "The 18" in El Salvador. They called it the largest gang in the world. What about the Sandinistas? La Familia has nothing to do with any criminal organization. It's self defense when men who have committed crimes of consent tell authorities that. I will not give voice to the organization's name. I have values. News: Very frequently untrue in the places I frequent. No lawsuit can be filed against an organization for spreading name unspecific rumors, and there is no way to hold the owners of news organizations accountable. They are quite above the law. I've done my best to separate fact from fiction here, but it is very difficult when every source may be corrupt and often is.
Roll Call of the Lesser Devils: 133-136
133.
Today I take a vow of silence
The quiet starts a chain of events
The prisoner walks free
Markings burned into arms, face, back
escapes the worst fear
the human race has ever always known
fear
takes me silent takes me aback
the falling sheets, the last Rosicrucian’s towel
folded, irons on stretched out
gravity calls
and so you wonder what that means
consider if you will it
thrill welling up from deep down
foul mention decayed dominance
yet so easily submit, persuaded
having a phenomenal time, agitated
experience with internal workings
know know bounds
devices, all animals,
quivering sounds,
incorrigible exhibitionists that we are
sensational, climactic, grinds together
while you watch your rather lengthy
summoned false feelings grow so bored
slink away into dark corners embarrassed
by the moans and exhortations unto god
your brain takes you away to see incredible
frightening things, imaginary things
with legs and arms all breasts
no break into a sea of flesh
and when you come back
you find you
are the small caged rats just
animals with wheels and tiny black eyes
and people who judge think quality, heavy sighs
have decided you do not pass
inspection was exciting at least at last
a simple test, a pleasure cry
you were so busy being happy
have it hold it
the religious experience
shape it mold it
and so now you can not leave
and the towel?
the horror of knowing what you have seen
the things that crawled
the things that flew
may have been nothing
but it may have been true
a chemical imbalance
or so you are taught to believe
my goal is the perfect disrobing
when I reach that goal
I will have arrived inside
the great hereafter
as horrible as it may be,
somewhere in it there is perfection
such is the law of infinity
somewhere
out there
the only blot on my soul that still remains is my body
I will always
Write in the service of the great law
134.
it is hard to tell the time
when your only watch has crumbled
into many pieces of the sky
Byron bade me quench my thirst
then laughed at my awful plight
thirst undying
yet I just an ant in the continuum
with no power to drown myself
thirst for the first wellspring
of knowledge, unholy
and of the body
But for the three rings of Jesus
Our heavenly host
Surely would I have perished.
While I drifted
I spoke with Zarathustra’s society
They showed me how wrong
but oh how strong
blind before
it was all so that I could see
many secrets wait hidden
never break the rhythm
even when man has left you broken
and in a cage
the high spirits bade me this
135.
and so begins the next world
in the beginning there was a thought
and it was desperation
-desperate for the end
-desperate for the unkown
the worst thing that could happen
was a science
was a sign
after the moment left
I felt something back behind me
the nightmare was unclean
it wasn’t even mine
don’t go off and leave
I sense something back
behind me
I once knew a person
his name was unimportant
though it was sanctuary
all that is gone now
swallowed up by fear
what more could you want
than to gaze down from the mountains?
if only to escape this dark tunnel
trapped here for so long
alone and unarmed
with only a dim fire
the nightmare was science
like a pathway through the mind
many thought it led out
but they have perished
frozen in this nuclear winter
eyes piercing behind me
my hair stands on end
somewhere my hands play a guitar
slide down the bars
but why I have long since forgotten
all I can do
is wait for the sun to wake me
(unless this isn’t a dream
the sun will come)
136.
I no longer need the wind to blow
no longer a home at night
I have gone to search for the rumored
subterranean ocean
where the old ones dwell
I need to see
and when I find them
I will beg them
“Please take not my sorrow
And take not my mind.”
That ocean blooms like a flower
In myriad shimmering thoughts and words
Like oxygen fluttering
Up to the abyssal floor.
Even the young man
who taught the world to love
such wicked evil
Believed,
Though under the earth
We all know it will not be found.
I will never be ashamed
Of my unabashed fondness
For Howard Phillip.
Today I take a vow of silence
The quiet starts a chain of events
The prisoner walks free
Markings burned into arms, face, back
escapes the worst fear
the human race has ever always known
fear
takes me silent takes me aback
the falling sheets, the last Rosicrucian’s towel
folded, irons on stretched out
gravity calls
and so you wonder what that means
consider if you will it
thrill welling up from deep down
foul mention decayed dominance
yet so easily submit, persuaded
having a phenomenal time, agitated
experience with internal workings
know know bounds
devices, all animals,
quivering sounds,
incorrigible exhibitionists that we are
sensational, climactic, grinds together
while you watch your rather lengthy
summoned false feelings grow so bored
slink away into dark corners embarrassed
by the moans and exhortations unto god
your brain takes you away to see incredible
frightening things, imaginary things
with legs and arms all breasts
no break into a sea of flesh
and when you come back
you find you
are the small caged rats just
animals with wheels and tiny black eyes
and people who judge think quality, heavy sighs
have decided you do not pass
inspection was exciting at least at last
a simple test, a pleasure cry
you were so busy being happy
have it hold it
the religious experience
shape it mold it
and so now you can not leave
and the towel?
the horror of knowing what you have seen
the things that crawled
the things that flew
may have been nothing
but it may have been true
a chemical imbalance
or so you are taught to believe
my goal is the perfect disrobing
when I reach that goal
I will have arrived inside
the great hereafter
as horrible as it may be,
somewhere in it there is perfection
such is the law of infinity
somewhere
out there
the only blot on my soul that still remains is my body
I will always
Write in the service of the great law
134.
it is hard to tell the time
when your only watch has crumbled
into many pieces of the sky
Byron bade me quench my thirst
then laughed at my awful plight
thirst undying
yet I just an ant in the continuum
with no power to drown myself
thirst for the first wellspring
of knowledge, unholy
and of the body
But for the three rings of Jesus
Our heavenly host
Surely would I have perished.
While I drifted
I spoke with Zarathustra’s society
They showed me how wrong
but oh how strong
blind before
it was all so that I could see
many secrets wait hidden
never break the rhythm
even when man has left you broken
and in a cage
the high spirits bade me this
135.
and so begins the next world
in the beginning there was a thought
and it was desperation
-desperate for the end
-desperate for the unkown
the worst thing that could happen
was a science
was a sign
after the moment left
I felt something back behind me
the nightmare was unclean
it wasn’t even mine
don’t go off and leave
I sense something back
behind me
I once knew a person
his name was unimportant
though it was sanctuary
all that is gone now
swallowed up by fear
what more could you want
than to gaze down from the mountains?
if only to escape this dark tunnel
trapped here for so long
alone and unarmed
with only a dim fire
the nightmare was science
like a pathway through the mind
many thought it led out
but they have perished
frozen in this nuclear winter
eyes piercing behind me
my hair stands on end
somewhere my hands play a guitar
slide down the bars
but why I have long since forgotten
all I can do
is wait for the sun to wake me
(unless this isn’t a dream
the sun will come)
136.
I no longer need the wind to blow
no longer a home at night
I have gone to search for the rumored
subterranean ocean
where the old ones dwell
I need to see
and when I find them
I will beg them
“Please take not my sorrow
And take not my mind.”
That ocean blooms like a flower
In myriad shimmering thoughts and words
Like oxygen fluttering
Up to the abyssal floor.
Even the young man
who taught the world to love
such wicked evil
Believed,
Though under the earth
We all know it will not be found.
I will never be ashamed
Of my unabashed fondness
For Howard Phillip.
To Nijme
Azure air conditioner streamers
Humming fluorescent light
In the art studio by design;
Left with only thoughts of geography
And that pretty smile.
Dry outside, night air,
Filled with rhythmic locust buzz.
Every sight of the building
Brings it back;
Year lost in thought.
Humming fluorescent light
In the art studio by design;
Left with only thoughts of geography
And that pretty smile.
Dry outside, night air,
Filled with rhythmic locust buzz.
Every sight of the building
Brings it back;
Year lost in thought.
Missing in America
Sean Paul Kelly posted a brief thing about what he misses most about Asia now that he is home. He said it's undoubtedly, "...being able to walk out my door, be it in Istanbul, Singapore or India and walk down the street to get what I want, see my neighbors, smile at strangers and stretch my legs." That's possible in a lot of heavily populated urban areas, but that's not what he's talking about. Kelly was referring to the isolation that now exists because of the automobile culture here in the United States.
A great many people made the culture of driving a topic of discussion because of the insane gas prices last year. Driving everywhere has made social interaction much more difficult. The sense of community from knowing people in your neighborhood, or even in the same building, has significantly diminished because of the amount of time spent in cars and trucks. That's obviously not true everywhere, but it's getting much more widespread over time. The phenomena of traffic isolation makes normal social interaction much more difficult. It's becoming more pronounced as new generations grow up without knowing any other way to live.
The social and cultural damage from the automobile is only one way in which it's making the world a worse place to live. It's insane that we have covered massive portions of our towns and cities in concrete. Our society has been so profoundly altered by the automobile that it means more than life. Nothing grows through concrete or cement, and the two surfaces hold heat.
Getting out of a car in the middle of a big parking lot during the hottest part of the summer is like stepping into a corner of hell where they ran out of air ducts. Any living thing that gets stranded out in the middle of a parking lot is dead for sure. Earth worms are a no-brainer, of course. They wind up crispy in a matter of minutes. Lizards could survive a little longer, but that's not saying much. Lizards, amphibians and other reptiles, while being cold blooded, will cook up deader than shit on asphalt. Birds, puppies, human babies - these are all creatures that will die if they get stuck in the middle of a hot ass parking lot.
Babies die every year. Some lady leaves her baby stranded in the middle of a parking lot. It gets so hot that even when babies survive such neglect they are likely to have brain damage, depending on the length of their stay out there in pavement hell. The forgetful parent always looks shocked and devastated. Just how stupid does one have to be to think pavement is good for life?
Cars spew noxious fumes and emissions into the air at an incredible rate. Regardless what sort of "safety controls" are applied to the internal combustion engine, the entire concept is flawed to the core from an environmental standpoint. By the time we are burning fuel in vehicles the substance has already impacted the environment at ever stage of production.
Even when oil production is not disastrous it's still not great. Offshore drilling in the United States has resulted in millions of gallons of oil spilled in the Gulf of Mexico and the other oceans. Oil transportation has been just as detrimental, or more so, than production. Then after the oil arrives in refineries the production of gasoline creates gigantic quantities of air pollutants. The entire downtown area of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, smells like slow death because of it.
People who love the combustion engine are slow to admit such facts. They like to believe that there's nothing wrong with hundreds of millions of cars blasting pollutants into the air. If they admit the truth it means they have been wrong all along. A little ego goes a long way to perpetuating myths. In many cases specific personal debates about the environment only continue to exist because people hate to admit when they lose.
Taking all of these things into consideration, just about anyone with money still drives an automobile around. People are still sitting in slow moving traffic, or stopped altogether, running their engines as the money burns up and floats into the atmosphere. How many people don't really know their neighbors very well?. It's silly to even hypothesize they may know some of the people driving to and from work around them. They are isolated from human contact until they get to work, unless they pop into a store or stop for food, and then they're isolated until they get home.
There's a breakdown of human interaction that has gotten worse and worse. That may not be as bad as drastic climate change, but it's not really open for any debate at all. Cars have done wonders for jump starting the destruction of modern civilization. It's silly to think we could return to simpler, more trouble free times, but it's not crazy to think that we can change the present for the better.
Or you could just buy a big fucking Hummer, pay your wife Botox injections in return for stiff mouthed fellatio and scream "Yippy-kai-yay Motherfuckers!" as you jump out of a plane and destroy the world as we know it. I won't try to stop you. Somebody has to be an ignorant asshole in order for me to get laid for being sweet and attentive. And it's going to take a lot of work to repopulate this rock when the right wing survivalists are nothing but shadows on their Unabomber sheds.
A great many people made the culture of driving a topic of discussion because of the insane gas prices last year. Driving everywhere has made social interaction much more difficult. The sense of community from knowing people in your neighborhood, or even in the same building, has significantly diminished because of the amount of time spent in cars and trucks. That's obviously not true everywhere, but it's getting much more widespread over time. The phenomena of traffic isolation makes normal social interaction much more difficult. It's becoming more pronounced as new generations grow up without knowing any other way to live.
The social and cultural damage from the automobile is only one way in which it's making the world a worse place to live. It's insane that we have covered massive portions of our towns and cities in concrete. Our society has been so profoundly altered by the automobile that it means more than life. Nothing grows through concrete or cement, and the two surfaces hold heat.
Getting out of a car in the middle of a big parking lot during the hottest part of the summer is like stepping into a corner of hell where they ran out of air ducts. Any living thing that gets stranded out in the middle of a parking lot is dead for sure. Earth worms are a no-brainer, of course. They wind up crispy in a matter of minutes. Lizards could survive a little longer, but that's not saying much. Lizards, amphibians and other reptiles, while being cold blooded, will cook up deader than shit on asphalt. Birds, puppies, human babies - these are all creatures that will die if they get stuck in the middle of a hot ass parking lot.
Babies die every year. Some lady leaves her baby stranded in the middle of a parking lot. It gets so hot that even when babies survive such neglect they are likely to have brain damage, depending on the length of their stay out there in pavement hell. The forgetful parent always looks shocked and devastated. Just how stupid does one have to be to think pavement is good for life?
Cars spew noxious fumes and emissions into the air at an incredible rate. Regardless what sort of "safety controls" are applied to the internal combustion engine, the entire concept is flawed to the core from an environmental standpoint. By the time we are burning fuel in vehicles the substance has already impacted the environment at ever stage of production.
Even when oil production is not disastrous it's still not great. Offshore drilling in the United States has resulted in millions of gallons of oil spilled in the Gulf of Mexico and the other oceans. Oil transportation has been just as detrimental, or more so, than production. Then after the oil arrives in refineries the production of gasoline creates gigantic quantities of air pollutants. The entire downtown area of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, smells like slow death because of it.
People who love the combustion engine are slow to admit such facts. They like to believe that there's nothing wrong with hundreds of millions of cars blasting pollutants into the air. If they admit the truth it means they have been wrong all along. A little ego goes a long way to perpetuating myths. In many cases specific personal debates about the environment only continue to exist because people hate to admit when they lose.
Taking all of these things into consideration, just about anyone with money still drives an automobile around. People are still sitting in slow moving traffic, or stopped altogether, running their engines as the money burns up and floats into the atmosphere. How many people don't really know their neighbors very well?. It's silly to even hypothesize they may know some of the people driving to and from work around them. They are isolated from human contact until they get to work, unless they pop into a store or stop for food, and then they're isolated until they get home.
There's a breakdown of human interaction that has gotten worse and worse. That may not be as bad as drastic climate change, but it's not really open for any debate at all. Cars have done wonders for jump starting the destruction of modern civilization. It's silly to think we could return to simpler, more trouble free times, but it's not crazy to think that we can change the present for the better.
Or you could just buy a big fucking Hummer, pay your wife Botox injections in return for stiff mouthed fellatio and scream "Yippy-kai-yay Motherfuckers!" as you jump out of a plane and destroy the world as we know it. I won't try to stop you. Somebody has to be an ignorant asshole in order for me to get laid for being sweet and attentive. And it's going to take a lot of work to repopulate this rock when the right wing survivalists are nothing but shadows on their Unabomber sheds.
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