you fucking racists

I often notice that the most racist and discriminatory among us are in fact those who masquerade themselves as tolerant and inclusive.

-Affirmative action, works on the principle that minorities need help. This is counter to the idea held by supporters that all people are equally capable. There have been studies that show that college submissions with black names, with the same test scores as those with white names, are less likely to be accepted. I understand this, but even to suppose that blacks are not capable of performing better than whites is racist.

-Using the word “ghetto” as an adjective. This is just a cover for “involving blacks/black culture”. Modern whites have adopted this as a codeword. “That neighborhood is ghetto” means exactly the same thing as “there’s lots of black people in that neighborhood”. Though I wouldn’t agree, I wouldn’t mind if they just said “races shouldn’t mix”. Instead, they manage to convey the same bullshit while maintaining the facade of being open minded. A defense to present would be “well white neighborhoods could be ghetto!” but I have never once heard this word used in reference to whites. Finding a different word to use, that has the same content, is just as racist.

-The idea of “white trash”. Just as it is racist to assume that blacks need help, it is similarly racist to assume that whites never should. The same people who are for progressive social policy in regard to poverty stricken inner cities, are typically against any type of hand out for poor whites in trailer parks and hut homes. These people assume blacks to be victims whereas poor whites are deserving of their poverty. Different standards for different races is always racism.

-In europe and asia, newer GPS units have a feature that highlights high-crime areas of cities and towns, for the use of avoiding them if you are driving. Only in the U.S. is the possible use of this causing controversy. Why? Again this is thin racism. In the U.S., “high-crime areas” are considered by many to be the same as “black and hispanic neighborhoods”. If we are all to be colorblind, than a high-crime area is just that. A person of any pigmentation would be capable of using this GPS feature to avoid crime. Which is not synonymous with a particular race, unless you are a racist.

false self destruction

One aspect of the stupidity of drug use I got a grip on in my drug-free years, that hasn’t proved to be thin air, is false self destruction. This criticism can be leveed against people who use drugs to escape or to heal. I can only effectively cite my own experiences, so I will.

I had 2 girlfriends before I had a drop of alcohol. They left me. Both times, it took me a while to get over it, but I had no sensation whatsoever of being “damaged”. I felt confused, and some longing, but I was not “hurt”. The bad feelings simply appeared less and less.

1 girlfriend left me since I started drinking. I crawled inside of a bottle. The initial reasoning is simple enough: “I want to feel better”. But what many people who do this don’t realize is that they actually want to feel worse. “She left me, and I feel bad, so now I need to use this drug”. It adds a reality to it. That is what I call false self destruction.

Because I had no “chemical escape plan” for my previous heartbreaks, I was left with my unaltered brain and circumstance. My ultimate conclusion was that when I examined everything carefully, I was not really that unhappy. With booze by my side, I could have a physical manifestation of my “pain”. Because I had that, the conclusion was that I was indeed unhappy, and that I had to use a drug to not be.

Here is where the falsity presents itself. If I hadn’t used alcohol, I wouldn’t continue to carry grief with me forever. A black-out night of drinking simply gave me an event I could point to and say “see!, I was in a deep, dark hole!”. But I never was. And if you’ve had a similar experience, neither were you. You just wanted the event to mean something, and it didn’t.

3 turbo poems

(30 seconds each)

you are all owned

you can’t sell yourselves

trapped in a home

with happiness on shelves

there is no escape

all things pass

no one survives death

life will move

forever

feeling bad?

just wait

it’s that simple

if you don’t want to create

I don’t want to know you

if all you do is wait

and have nothing you go do

you are useless

like a rock

or a person

scifi part 1

He didn’t know where he was or why. He had purple bruises on each of his hips. Because it was twilight, they must be really dark. They felt very sore. As he stood and began to walk he was surprised by how his body felt; inverted. His weak leg felt like his strong leg and the other way around. He remembered one method of determining dominance; to act as if you are about to fight. If you put your left side in front you are likely right handed, and the other way around. When he did this, he was a bit comforted to find that he put his left foot forward, which felt correct to him. However, he was a bit uneasy to find that if he were to go to write, he would use his left hand. He remembered being right handed.

But he didn’t really remember. He didn’t even know where he was or what he was doing. Even more surprisingly, he took note of the landscape on which he was walking for the first time since coming to awareness. It was a desert. Or something like it. The grains of sand seemed unusually large, and the dunes were more like round hills; as a turtles shell rather than an ocean wave. It must be early in the morning. The sky was a dark blue color, and he could see pretty clearly around him. He heard no birds or other animals stirring. He decided to stop walking until he was sure where he was going. After all, he didn’t know how much energy he might need to conserve. He turned around, and behind him looked exactly the same as the direction he was walking.

Trying to find a direction he ought to walk, he looked to the sky.. First he saw the moon. Worried that this it was too bright to see stars, he looked over the sky. He felt a cold shooting palpitation in his chest. There was a smaller, brighter moon. This was not earth.

sickness and production

As I write this whilst recovering from sickness, a thought occurs: sickness drives intellectual pursuit for many fairly obvious reasons.

Chief among them is that it keeps a person houseridden. If every human was perfectly healthy, they would likely get their kicks from sports of various kinds, or at least from exercise. Failing that, they might spend their time outdoors sight-seeing. In either case they wouldn’t be rolling out of their bed and right to a typewriter or musical instrument.

Secondly, we all exercise. If we don’t run miles everyday, then we read pages everyday. Or an expansive collection of other activities. Because the sickling is kept from exercising physically, they exercise intellectually. Just as the athlete is in hell when he has a debilitating injury, the intellectual among us are in hell when they can’t perform in their respective capacities.

Last, but probably not final, is that sickness connects people with their mortality in a way that most people wouldn’t otherwise recognize. Even if you know you’ve just got the flu, it makes you feel as if you are going to die, or could die, during any bout of sickness. This perversely lights a flame under the sickling to document their experiences in some manner before their death.

This connection can be seen in a more scientific manner; simply read the life stories of successful artists and intellectuals. Almost all of them had some type, or many types, of afflictions.

bullshit

I don't know why, but I've always had a desire to create; and have had a hard time pinpointing exactly what area my "creations" would be marketable. As a result, or perhaps as a calculated strategic move, I've essentially resigned myself to "no man's land".

Meaning that often times my said "creations", are an attempt to form their own category, or do something completely unheard of. That's not the case because I'm a genius, or because I'm a visionary, rather; it's the case because ultimately I'm not talented enough to succeed in bonafide fields, yet I have an intense desire to succeed in whatever capacity I can.

The simplest explanation I can present goes as follows. 10 children are playing sandlot baseball in a neighborhood. They all have certain areas of expertise; they can all excel at their chosen positions in the field. I, instead of working laboriously to be proficient at baseball; go back to my room and create my own "game". I then go back to the baseball field and tell those players that they're all suckers unless they're good at my game. Of course I'm naturally the best at it, cause I made it up and will forever have the most experience with it.

Maybe the game really blows. Remember though, it's not important to me, because I'm good at it. Ultimately I'm not sure if that's a cop-out or really cool. And again ultimately, I believe my legacy(what a load) will leave only 2 arguable positions: "what that guy did was a cop-out" or "what that guy did was really cool".

the way home, obverse

This was going to be a long, gross, buggy walk. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t come after her to keep her from walking home alone. Though even if he did, she would only tell him to get lost. She just wanted that satisfaction. Then again, if she didn’t accept his ride then she’d have to walk for 45 more minutes to get home, and end drenched and sweat and riddled with mosquito bites. She considered how she plans to win this situation. The emotional compromise leads to a much better immediate future but an ego defeat. Emotional rigidness leads to a terrible immediate future but an ego victory.

She considered, ‘what kind of victory would that be, anyhow?’. She stopped walking. Before she knew for sure how she was going to remedy this situation, she wasn’t going to make any more steps in the wrong direction. She dreaded walking into her apartment, totally exhausted and alone. She would likely breakdown and cry. She dreaded walking back into his home, looking into the face of the man who would allow her to walk home in the middle of the night alone, only to admit wrongdoing so she could stay there. She dreaded both, and the sadness swirled around her as she stood in place, knees locked.

There was no right action, she had to pick completely arbitrarily. But the sadness had little to do with this fleeting interpersonal conflict. There was never a right action; every action she had ever taken in her life had left her standing in place, more upset and more conflicted than before. She started moving only to distract from the thoughts that might lead her to wander out onto the road and try to get struck by a vehicle. She was going back to his place; and it didn’t matter anymore why she was doing so. She saw truck lights up ahead. She knew them well. Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned on a dime to walk in the other direction to save the last inkling of pride she may or may not actually have.

She could hear the shift into idle, and see the sideview mirrors reflection in her peripheral vision. “I know you were walking back to my place, I saw you turn around”, he said in a very soft, forgiving voice. She hated the bastard’s good vision, she thought, but at the same time, was glad that he could always tell what was going on. She bawled harder than she could remember doing before, and she honestly couldn’t decide if it was from sadness or happiness. She heard the motor turn off, and him step towards her. She felt his hands grip her on her upper arms and it felt like burning. He gently pulled her towards his chest and wrapped his arms around her, and all of the kind moments came back to her in a flood. He said “Come on, we’ve been through worse. Let’s see if we feel better in the morning”.

The words shot through her like a javelin. They made way too much sense; bringing her emotionality to a gridlock. She climbed into the passenger seat with iron resolve. As she looked over at him for the first time as he was watching the road, she was surprised to see him not sad, not happy, but looking quite confused. His kind words didn’t quite match is face. Now she wasn’t so sure of his feelings about the situation. She turned her attention to the road and was again surprised to see him driving towards her apartment. “We’re going to my place?” she asked. He replied “I thought you wanted to go home; that’s ok, I just didn’t think you should walk alone this late and in this heat”. She sat silent for what seemed like several hours but was just about 6 minutes. She looked over at him, and said “you could stay over, if you want”.

He turned to look at her. She grinned, though she tried to stop the reflex. He smiled and said “I would like that”. When she looked again at the road, she thought of the situation more clearly than ever. The question in her mind of whether or not she was in love, loved, cared about, or liked this person, was no longer an important question. Instead, the question was “Does everything this person say make an obscene amount of sense?”, and the answer was an unshaken “Yes”.

It was a loaded question, though. She was sick of thinking about it. She turned on the radio.

the way home, reverse

His anger receded and concern washed ashore. She stormed out a few minutes ago, and for all he knew she was a block away trying to get hit by a car. Or, this was really the end of their relations. Or, she was on her way back to apologize. He honestly couldn’t favor one over the other; they were all equally likely. He tried to hold his resolve and not leave. But not knowing what happened to her would eat him alive.

He was honestly sick of this. He considered that the most likely reason for her to storm out was simply to see if he would come after her. That’s why he didn’t want to give in; he didn’t want to play these types of games. How did he end up in one of these kinds of relationships? He considered that this was a pretty selfish type of thought though; valuing his own ego over her safety. If a platonic male friend, with suicidal tendencies, stormed out of his house, he would find him and make sure he was ok. This idea is what caused him spring up like his whole life had led to this foregone conclusion.

He climbed into the rig, and his foot shook on the clutch. His hand turned the key in the ignition clumsily, pushing a bit too hard. He took off and the car rocked a bit like it did when he drove a stick the first time. He reconsidered wether he ought to be driving at all. On the way, Every reason not to do this presented itself, chief among them that she might just tell him to fuck off, adding insult to insult. Despite the many good reasons to turn around, his body moved against his mind and simply continued to drive and his eyes continued to search. He didn’t feel in control of himself; which was unusual for him.

In surprisingly short order, he spotted her. As if looking at the sky and seeing the stars were purple, he saw her walking towards his house. She turned around immediately and the stars were again white. He had no idea how this might play out. He drifted alongside her, like in so many awful movies. Instead of nagging her to come back, or apologizing for his actions, he remained very factual, and was careful to talk in the softest voice he could muster; as if verbally walking on eggshells. He said “I know you were walking back to my place, I saw you turn around”.

She furrowed her brow in a manner suggesting a flash of fury, and then stopped immediately. She cried incredibly hard. He was worried that she would wake someone up and knew this had to be resolved quickly, without any loud arguing outbursts in a residential neighborhood. He stopped the truck and felt as if he floated to her. He held her at first by the arms, but considered that this had an authoritativeness to it that ought not be there. He quickly drew her into his chest. She didn’t bother to open her arms to him, instead still holding her face in her hands. He could feel the wetness of her tears on his chest. They were everywhere.

Though the sheer volume of her tears suggested otherwise, this wasn’t the most wild moment between them. He said “ “Come on, we’ve been through worse. Let’s see if we feel better in the morning”. She coldly moved out of his arms and towards the truck. He felt slighted that she was willing to take his ride but not make any attempt at resolution. That had always been a possibility though, and it was his decision to live down.

As he thought of how he ought to treat this situation after this ride, he heard her ask in a surprisingly calm voice, “We’re going to my place?”. He thought to himself, ‘What kind of monster does she think I am? Who wouldn’t let her leave if she wanted to?’. Careful not to bring discontent into the situation, he said “I thought you wanted to go home; that’s ok, I just didn’t think you should walk alone this late and in this heat”. She turned the other way. She didn’t speak for what seemed like an eternity. He mulled over what he should have rather said. Finally she said “you could stay over, if you want”.

He turned to her and saw she held an amazing grin. The happiness rushed back into him like hydration rushes back into a person after a hangover. He smiled and said “I would like that”. When he looked at the road, he saw the situation more clearly than he ever had before. The question to him was no longer “Is this worth it to me?”. Instead, the question was “Is this a valuable experience for a hopeless romantic like me?”, and the answer was an unshaken “Yes”.

It was a loaded question, though. He had no idea what he was doing anymore.

politicked off 01

The maryland ACLU has recently reported on the law enforcement infiltration of anti-war and anti-death penalty groups in MD. Over 200 undercover officers, over a period of 14 months, spied on pacifists, and those against death, presumably to determine if they were terrorists.

This whole operation uncovered 2 illegal activities on the part of the anti-war demonstrators. One was a non-violent sit-in involving juice and cookies(really). The other was a plan to hang pictures of dead american soldiers on the fence around the white house. The terror!

This begs me to ask the question, what did they imagine they’d uncover? Death-penalty activists executing executioners?(I wish), peace activists starting a guerrilla anti-government war? The only activists who are hypocritical enough to “kill for life” are anti-abortionists, and that’s due to their misfiring neurons resulting from religiosity.

My fear is that when groups like these are picked on, spied on and abused, they will become even more radical, and their original good message will turn whacko. Similar to how animal rights, a perfectly decent movement originally, has been turned into a dramatic, senseless effort to say “I hate humans and technology!”; no one will take them seriously, justifiably.

politicked off 02

Global warming is inevitable. The average Joe Blow is under the impression that when he gets solar panels, an electric car, and uses fabric grocery bags; and everyone else follows suit, that global warming will stop the next minute. In actuality, it will stop in the next century. Why then, is all of the attention applied to energy?

If the predictions are correct, then cities will flood, croplands will be obliterated, and countless other humanitarian crises will occur. Are we doing anything about that? In addition to talking about what people in your nearby city will drive to work, we ought to be talking about what they need to do to cool their apartment in the summer so they don’t stroke. We ought to be talking about how to protect, or evacuate, cities that will flood.

My fear is that when these things occur, we will all look at it and say “yep, humanity fucked up. At least now we have things right”. No, humanity has still fucked up if we are not addressing every facet of the multi-faceted crisis of global warming.

politicked off 03

The U.S. demolished Iraq. The astronomical body count of Iraqi citizens is often brought up; what is not commonly discussed is how many Iraqi citizens fled. What kind of people had the resources to flee when the invasion was initiated? Well, the skilled, the business owners, the professionals, all of the benefactors. So what is left? Well, those who can’t afford to leave; and those who stay to fight.

You will hear a lot these days about how “the surge is working”; and therefore the Iraq “war” is almost won. This refers to how we have sent a surge of american soldiers to Iraq, and now the violence is lessened. This only make sense; we caused everyone to leave, and now we flood the streets with americans with guns.

Is that what we call victory? Is this the new Iraq we all support? A place with almost no skilled laborers, intellectuals and no possibility of philanthropy, violence being quelled only by putting an armored and armed man on every street corner?

My fear is that the populace at large will only focus on the american side of the invasion: ‘Americans home? No major terrorist cells? Victory!’, when Iraq has been left completely in the shitter. Before we could claim victory we must rebuild Iraq. Vouchers, other economic incentives, and reparations. The only presidential candidate who thinks we’re winning, McCain, would sooner get alzheimer’s than raise taxes on us to pay for that. Iraq is fucked.

the great escape

Sleep is the cousin to Death, and Death is the mother of Invention. Invention has an abusive stepfather that can only be calmed down with a fishing trip and a 12-pack. He stumbles into invention’s room at 3 in the morning, after the bars close, and lets it be known that he is not invention’s genetic father, but by god he’s going to act like it anyway. His name is Procrastination. Invention could either stay, be abused by Procrastination, and become Failure; or run away, and become Success.

The only way invention has enough guts to run away is with his friend, Perseverance, who lives down the street. Invention and Perseverance hang out every day, until one day Perseverance’s mom, Fear, finds their plans to run away. She phones Invention’s mother, Death, and they both agree that Invention and Perseverance shouldn’t play together any longer. Invention and Perseverance both meet a friend, Need. They think of a way to all get together. Need’s mother, Understanding, organizes play dates for both Invention and Perseverance. They plan it so that each get dropped off, and picked up, at different times. Everyone is so grateful for Understanding.

One day Need’s father, Mis, coincidentally meets Fear. He mentions that Invention, Need and Perseverance all play at his house. Fear panics, and disallows Perseverance from playing with Need. Invention’s stepfather, Procrastination, becomes unbelievably abusive towards Invention. Meanwhile, Invention, Perseverance and Need all start sneaking out at night to see one another. Perseverance and Need tell Invention he should not tolerate Procrastination. They make very serious plans to run away the next night. Invention and Need arrive at the agreed upon time. They have been waiting for 20 minutes. Will Perseverance show?

found poetry 01

I’m drunk as shit

Cause I am one with the bottle

I don’t gotta be drunk to do shit

I never lose my edge, just like I never lose my head

But all that poison tends to make you fearless

I’m happy when I’m lonely

I do what I want, when I want, won’t hold back

I’ll be long gone before you figure out what I’m all about

When I step it dents in

When I’m struggling everyone else sees success

My skin might as well as be the inside of a cell

The war’s on

I try to leave the crowd amazed

I taste the thrill of victory mixed with the agony of defeat

Suicide collides with pride: my conscience is your guide

I ain’t writing for fun yo, I’m writing to win

I do this shit for rogue cats in trailers and hut homes

what’s the problem now, ain’t I said enough?

You won’t remember what I’ve said but you’ll remember how I made you feel

I know what I want, and it’s gonna be here in a minute

I’m a sincere one

I never learned a bit, and I never learned to quit

to every girl who ever left me: I’ll strive till you regret it

____

Post Script: all words are taken from "clever n math" songs. they continue to work seperately as emcees:

math:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=86891182
clever:
http://www.myspace.com/cleverisdrunk

Cobe's Cock(tails)

all tested and approved.

“Bar-mothafuckin-keep, I’ll have a....”

cherry bomb:

in short glass with few ice cubes

3 shots coca cola

1 shot double proof rum

1 shot amaretto

January 15^th:

drink barardi superior all day

switch to maker’s mark whisky in the evening

don’t measure drinks

fall a lot

wake up with wild hangover

do recreational math puzzles the next day

drunk at work:

wake up at girlfriends house, drink a glass of wine that was out all night

take shots of bacardi superior

lose count

go running errands with girlfriend

almost knock over huge stack of canned beans in mars supermarket on the 6000 block of loch raven boulevard, baltimore, MD, 21239

eat tofu

go to work

realize you’re pretty drunk

ginger fear:

in short glass with few ice cubes

3 shots ginger beer(not ale)

1 shot double proof rum

1 shot applejack

mistake:

3 shots of any flavored vodka

sherbet drink(it tastes like sherbet):

in short glass, with few ice cubes

2 shots gin

fill 4/5ths up with lemon/lime soda

add orange juice till orange

add grenadine till half orange/red

W.T.Fuck?:

Take shot of wild turkey 101

have unexpected sneeze reflex and blow it through your nose

crazy water(amazing):

in tall glass, filled with ice

1 to 1 ½ shots everclear

fill 5/6ths with baltimore tap water

splash of soda water(not tonic!)

practically a drop of lime juice

I want to die:

shot of tequila, no chaser

then think about how your life is going

free slave:

in tall glass, half filled with ice

1 shot peppermint shnapps

1 ½ shots bourbon/whiskey

1 shot sugar or sugary syrup

fill to top with water

screwy reviewy: Super High Me

Super high me is a play on “super size me”, in title, and in form. In this movie, a regular cannabis user; comedian Doug Benson, abstains for 30 days, indulges very heavily for 30 days, and then compares his “vital stats”.

Firstly, the areas in which they test hardly seem well thought out. The areas tested are memory, sperm count, lung capacity, SAT scores, weight difference, and “psychic ability”. The litmus test, of course, is his performance at his job; stand-up comedy. There is no emotional test of any kind, no neurosis inventory, no personality test, no creativity scale. The tests that are missing, I think, are the most likely to be effected.

I was agitated further by realizing that the tests were not really the focus of this movie. So what is the focus? Well, for the first 30-day period (of sobriety), the movie meditates on cannabis use very frigidly, spoken by comedians who likely have nothing to offer different from what a hastily chosen stranger might have said.

Next, “Dispensaries” are brought to the viewers attention. In california, Dispensaries are small private shops that sell medical marijuana to patients who have a prescription. Originally this is discussed to explain how Doug Benson is consistently using cannabis on camera legally. However, more footage of this, culminating in a raid, awkwardly juts in thereafter.

What we are left with is pretty incoherent; cutting between results of “tests”, Doug Benson being really really stoned in the public, and completely serious footage of a federal bust of a medical marijuana shop. The movie has no uniting theme. It’s like watching 3 “Ok” movies braided together.

UFOs; why I am not a pathological skeptic

Skeptics run around in circles, and make themselves look silly, trying to deny the existence of UFOs.

proof for UFOs:
-historical accounts going back to prehistory
-descriptions of similar flying or floating objects from completely disconnected sources in history
-video footage from more than 2 different angles of the same UFO in a particular area
-a video taken by the mexican military of a UFO from a plane, hence:
-the mexican governments admitting to at least one UFO's existence
-eye-witness reports from people who share absolutely no connection in a given area, with:
-consistency in description from people who are no UFO-heads

How does the UFO-skeptic even know his mother is indeed his genetic mother? Are there pictures? Well I say they were faked. Are there eye-witness accounts? Well clearly those people are family, and the doctors are in cahoots. Are there records of his mother and father copulating? That is clearly the product of someone's imagination.


The skeptic ought to consider what his standard of proof is. If he denies UFOs, then he ought to call up his mother and ask for some hard evidence.

screwy reviewy: Queens of the stone age, self-titled

Sadly, most “rock fans”(usually natty bo and dorito fans as well) stick to their guns even when presented with overwhelming evidence that they are full of shit. “I only like the old stuff” is one such instance of groupthink in this “culture”. It could be referring to old bands in preference to new ones. Or old works, in preference to new ones, of a particular artist.

That said, this is, in actuality, the first Queens of the Stone Age LP. And this is QotSA’s worst album. However, considering the competition, that means it’s pretty damn good. I have a raging hard-on for this band because, when examining their existence and body of work, it’s impossible to say that older is always better. They are essentially a post 2000 band, and though my favorite work of theirs isn’t their latest, they haven’t put out predictable or low-caliber work of any kind since their birth.

The dualism of this is that Queens of the Stone Age is a victim of their time. When listening to the this self–titled album, I kept thinking about how if this particular work had been released in the “golden era” of grunge, when Kurt Cobain ruled the world, he would have had some stiff goddamn competition. Instead, it existed, and still exists as of 2008, in a time when rock radio station playlists are stuck in 1997. Of course, that doesn’t make it any less relevant and good.

Ok, the music is good. The song writing and lyrics are great. If this had been Queens of the stone age’s only work to date I would say they were a pretty hit-or-miss band. Luckily, unlike many other bands(particularly 90's ones), they followed this up with outstanding material. When I listen now, after having heard all of their other works, I would consider this halfway to archetypal. One song in particular could fit right in with the next Queens album; "Walkin' on the Sidewalks". Many others have a stench of boring indie rock(until Josh Homme’s distinctive voice sounds).

Overall, this album mostly reminds me to advise my generation to live in the present. The greatest dead or retired musicians were making music in the present at a certain time, and someone very similar to you was ignoring them, until society at large caught-up. Put away “the classics” for just a moment(their not going anywhere) and get on top of what musicians today are dishing up.

housed or out and about

I champion excess, but I’m not a champion of excess just yet. At the very least I am a contender with a lot of heart.

Another example of excess that I suggest to friends, neighbors, enemies and strangers is to exploit your location for all it’s worth. There are 2 basic locations. Home, and outside. I have always been a pretty isolated person; choosing to be home, with my toys and pets, over outside; with chain restaurants and extroverted people.

That’s not entirely true, however, because when I “hit the town” so to speak, I do it with commitment. Everyone needs to get out sometimes. When I do, I take in as much as I can, I stay out as long as possible, and I forget the comforts of home for the time being.

The trouble I see is in people not fully enjoying comfort, or novelty. It appears to me that many live in this half-way to everything bland funk. They stay home for a movie and a snack, eat out at a fast food place, return to charge their phone and go out again to a bar or other event for a couple hours before they return to watch TV, masturbate, and fall asleep. That daily routine has taken in just a little bit of everything. And a little bit of everything is not enough to count for anything.

You may watch a movie at home, but what’s it like to watch 2 seasons of a show before going outside again? Believe me, the last action is better. You may go to the pub and have a “few beers”, but what’s it like to stay until(or past) closing time and soak your brain in crazy water? Believe me, the last action is better. Being home, as well as being out and about, both have a lot to offer. Give them time and opportunity to offer it.

7 cobeisms

Chain pleasure:

Take on as many challenges, adventures and projects as possible. That way the pleasure in finishing them will occur one by one in chain-fashion.

Finish:

The only legit satisfaction comes from completing something. Very little satisfaction.

Fast and caffed-up wins the race:

-Slow and steady loses it.

Juggle:

Juggle all chores and necessary actions. Through this nothing will become mundane or irritating.

Employees:

Friends will “work” on your behalf if it’s something they already like to do.

Circumlocute:

When giving advice, talk around the obvious until the asker comes to the conclusion themselves. They won’t listen if you tell them straight.

Don’t believe the hype:

Everyone has an agenda and none of them are commendable. Consider the source.

suicide kills itself

The suicidal individual assesses death as the cessation of pain; and therefore the solution to their problem. It is inarguable that the dead don’t feel pain. What is arguable, however, is that nothingness counts as a solution.

The suicidal, and some of the non-suicidal amongst us, tend to romanticize death. Strangely, they do so even while holding atheistic world views. They see nothingness as a state. It’s not a state, It’s not a thing. It’s literally no thing.

How, then, could it be considered relief? It’s not relief, because it’s not. Nothingness isn’t a place anyone can exist in, even for a moment, and say “ahhh!”. A person who chooses to die because of the emotional pain they’re in has not solved their problem; because “they” are not there.

One person lives for 12 years, in sheer emotional agony, then decides to end their life. Another person lives for 95 years, in sheer emotional agony, then dies of a health complication. Who has suffered more?

Before you jump to your conclusion, consider the subjective nature of their experiences. For the people themselves, they have both suffered throughout their entire lives. So the 12 year old has not successfully quelled their suffering anymore than if they waited it out.

the quick and dirty on love

A person can possess any of 3 basic attitudes towards that possibility of love with another person. Person A feels no love, or thinks that developing such love would be impossible. Person B has a strong desire to proliferate love, but doesn’t believe it’s already achieved. And Person C feels that their love is inborn or otherwise already exists.

Of course, these 3 attitudes may be paired up with the same, or either of the other attitudes, creating 6 unique relationship types:

Person A & Person A: “accidental”

No love is deemed possible, and no frustration occurs.

Person A & Person B: “the impossible battle”

Person B is constantly trying to convince person A of growing love. Person B is perpetually frustrated, and person A is initially amused, but then baffled.

Person A & Person C: “unrequited”

Person C in constant pain knowing that person A doesn’t love them.

Person B & Person B: “unstable”

Both partners constantly wax and wane between feeling in love, independently of one another, effectively being any of the 6 relationship types at any given time.

Person B & Person C: “see-saw”

Person C is frustrated, but optimistic. Person B sways between feeling love and not feeling love. Finality occurs when Person B turns into either person C or A.

Person C & Person C: “stable”

Both persons are satisfied, unless outside influences, or a change of heart, put their love in doubt.

preliminary list of people who you ought not trust

Readers of astrology (particularly if they say they don’t believe in it)

Blamers of (only) George Bush

Students

Listeners of “mix” radio stations

Those with bumper stickers

The religious

Parents

Those who call movies “flicks”

Eaters of ready-made frozen meals

Those who turn on the TV with no program in mind

Philosophy students

Those who enjoy watching an entire baseball game

People who “just love to dance”

Regular upkeepers of myspace accounts

Intentional eaters of organic foods

Rememberers of the the 90s

Beer drinkers

impeachment

Dennis Kucinich has introduced articles of impeachment for both Dick Cheney and George Bush. Each time, particularly this time for Bush, his efforts are being marginalized. The arguments against going forward with impeachment of these 2 clowns are among the most inane, senseless arguments I have ever heard.

#1- They’re leaving “soon” anyway

No they’re not. They are there for 6 more months. That’s 24 weeks; approximately 180 days longer that they have to trample the country. Consider clusterfucks we have gotten into within 180 days. The Iraq war? Speaking of which, why should the war be continued until they leave office?
How many people have to die or be tortured because we’re collectively too lazy to go forward with impeachment? The Iraq war is not on hold. It’s not in limbo. It’s happening every day. Impeaching Bush and Cheney 6 hours before their term’s up could save a life. I think that’s worthwhile.

#2- It can’t get support

You are support! Raise awareness; hound your local representatives to do everything they can. Democrats seem to be resigned to “we can’t get enough votes”. Even in my relationally short life, I’ve never seen such ineptitude.
There is about a thousand maneuvers that government officials can do to get votes, or side step the need. They seem to think that government is internally democratic. It’s not. Internally, government is war. In order to put a war criminal in jail or end an unjust war, representatives and lawmakers are morally obligated to use every tool at their disposal and break rules

#3- Dennis Kucinich is weird

If that shiny sparkly Irish-Catholic JFK was introducing articles of impeachment; if that chocolate skinned twink Barrack Obama were doing it; you’d eat it up like potato chips. You’d call them brave, you’d do everything you could to move it forward, and if it passed they would be considered historic heroes. Instead, because Kucinich is short, believes that killing is wrong and has a peculiarly attractive wife, you get caught up in the image and miss the content. If it’s a good move, support it. No matter who is introducing it. Particularly if the person is competent in the area. Kucinich is shown time and time again to be competent.
In summation, this could be the saddest, lamest period in american history. Or it could be one of the most victorious. Either we rest on our laurels and stay completely complacent to horror, or we put an end to it, and reestablish a balance in power.