i think i am unkind.
means
i am unsure if i am unkind
means
i doubt my nature
means
i doubt the nature of my nature
means
i have questionable thoughts regarding my being
means
i have certain thoughts regarding my questionable being
means
 i question myself
means
 i am suffused with questionability
means
i am questionable
means
i am in doubt
means
i am, by nature, unstable
means
i am defined by instability
means
i am unable to classify myself definitively,
ergo, to call myself unkind is insupportable as i destabilized the premise of  a continual state or nature of unkindness.

right?

We have no proof that world existed before we gained consciousness -- i mean, if we are pushing the agnostic level of our perception, our reality could very well be a scenario that we are convinced to have when we were slowly developing (or had instantaneously manifested) the separated consciousness that occurs in this separation of external vs. the internal. the nature of our identity is that permeable membrane.

we are amoebas.

oh, what a thought... cultures, philosophies, art, invention, technologies, etc, and we are still amoebas, feeding on and around our little blob of being...

Just thinking about videos again, there is so much pleasure to be gleaned from watching something so old, the accrued memories of something like this brings much to my thought.

I remember watching this one movie, "the Highlander", very late one night, when I was staying over at my cousins' place; i walked into my (they were teens, then) cousins watching it, and i was just very young kid then. I remember them telling me to go to bed because i was not allowed to watch any adult movies, and not to bother them, but i promised to be very quiet and so i snuggle din my blanket and sat and watched through the whole movie.

I was blasted away. Utterly magnificent. The music, the cinematography, the jokes at the first part i didn't get, and I petered my cousins to tell me what they were speaking. the words: "f--k", "fag", "c-cksucker", "bl-w-jobs", and all manner of foulness, "adult-content" (who can forget "candy" in Kurgen's motel room) and the violence, the desecration at the church "better to burn-out than to fade away", and everything just sorta compounded at that moment of "wow, so this is what crazy stuff adults DO in New York".

It was like some sort of strange initiation, these adults don't hide what they say in front of me, everything was so voyeuristic for me. The violence, the sword-fights, the magic. Next to Darth Vader, the Kurgen actually scared the shite outta me then. It was awesome!

The music too was amazing, because I had never heard someone-- a guy -- sing at that kind of level, and of course swiftly after that, I got my hands on bohemian rhapsody-- I admit i didn't get it. the lyrics was actually disturbing to me, it wasn't until years later of listening to other stuff, that I made the Italian Opera connection with a whole bunch of other genres that they were playing at, and it was like this musical Chimera, that is so ridiculous that it was awesome.

but back to the movie:

It is absolutely amazing, I still get chills watching it today.
Something about the innate paradigm, this alternate world, where it is so cleverly made, and I love the fact that the mystery of these "Immortals" are not revealed, making everything more inexplicable, and the lives they lead more ... poignant and also rich.

they cannot have progeny,
they can die, but not in old age or in peace.
they can die anytime, despite their immortality, so everyday of theirs is as fragile as ours, but yet, they have the privilege of living vast lifespans.

i never really got Ramirez's last lesson, when he told Macleod to listen to the deer's heart; the best i can figure it out is the fact that he taught Macleod that all life is intrinsically bound together, and they can feel it-- of course this is also the bond between the Immortal, or the bond turned into a "curse" because they can feel each other, and that usually leads to death, well, most of the time.

hmmm... i wonder if there is something there that reveals the paradox about life, and existence, and the potential of us human beings all tied up in an allegoric metaphor that is "highlander" movie.

The last final scene, when Macleod beheaded the Kurgen and the energy vortex whipped out, it looked so demonic; my cousins loved it of course, they were into the heavy metal stuff, but i remembered seeing all these heads stuck in the torso of this demon, and I wondered if they were the heads of all the Immortals that were killed --- and it gripped with a cold bit of horror about what it means... that they were never free? their powers are tied to their heads. And if there is some sort of bizarre reference again to the nature of violence and killing.. of course it was years later when i thought about it; at that time, I was thinking about devil-worship, demons, curses and all that, and a militant christian kid at school said the movie was satanic and it was evil, and i should not be watching that.

needless to say, i told him, with my new found vocabulary form the movie, to go "f-ck himself".
that form of luciferian rebellion also got me 1 weeks detention, and a call to my mom, to which my cousins were embroiled.. and all the nicieties that ensued.

so... thanks to Youtube, I lived my kiddie days again, and i love the exuberant of it :) and I think Mr. Mercury is by far the best male vocalist around still... so, here's to you Freddie!

You played a part in my formative years !!!

You are remembered and you are loved!!!

link to video: is here

Actually I must say, this is a re-spliced video, which I have borrowed from the original video-jockey. I do not claim credit for the work and would laud the artist for doing a splendiferous job of it.

Rediscovering Old music via new media is always a new affair, it's like discovering a new wrinkle in an old fabric, always delightful, and at times frustrating when it doesn't measure up. But for the most part, it's been Kosher. But like all things, sometimes we worry about a spot of stain or a wrinkle in the fabric... we just devote so much obsession or attention on it, we fail to see the whole shirt, or worse, the world around you, and the shirt in your hand....


It's not just a perfume: Obsession.

Now, I always have this theory that emotions, or better yet "E-motions" (thank god no one has trademarked this obviously cheesy etymological deconstructivist act) is about energy misspent.

When we are so driven to repeat a psychological high, to scratch that proverbial itch, does it actually do the affliction any better?

Funny thing is, our society is by no way a wise concensus to which we can receive sound approval, instead we get a dissonant cacophony that pulls you under like that dreaded siren-call the more you listen to it.

Truth is, our society is utterly predisposed, giving preferential treatment to some Obsessions, and to others they ignore, or worse, refute vehemently.

So, if you are a rich and multi-billionaire, they tell you that your obsession with wealth is a good thing, or that if you are poor, then, why the heck do you not contract this obsession and making something of yourself?

Sad office wage-slaves who are fed upon by sharks, in turn try to feed upon who they think are lesser than them in order to try and get ahead; displacing their anger and their frustration on their children, friends, or innocent bystanders, anything they can do to prey upon to get themselves ahead.

Are they really helping someone if they get into it because their motivating force is that they want to get something out of it, and wrapping up in their tattered fabrication of altruism?

Some people have obsessions that are socially frowned upon... overeating, alcoholism, etc, etc. But are they any worse or better than the vengeful serial killers or the money-mad out there (or in here)?

some people even wrap one obsession in another, substituting one obsession for something socially more acceptable. Greed wrapped in workaholism, or maybe lust wrapped in guilt wrapped in evangelical religiosity wrapped in sanctimonious bible thumping?

"that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet", says Shakespeare in 'Romeo and Juliet'

but in today's "designer underwear" world, i ask, would any perfume's fragrance collate with it's name? Besides, who would want to name a perfume as something so unhealthy as Obsession?

CK's Obsession, by the way, is full of toxic chemicals. and yes, you can die if you drink it :)
... just a thought.

What was the point of this again?
Oh yes, the music video,

Here is Chicane's other video " No Ordinary Morning";

of course the irony is that for the female protagonist, every morning is the same -- it is this hellish state of rejection to which she struggles to come full circle -- instead of dealing with it in recognition, she endeavours to replay the incident over and over and over Ad Nauseaum, always in a retributive manner.

How many girls and guys who had been dumped, in hindsight, secretly wished they beat their defunked Exes to the punch with the dispelling words "I think we should break-up/ see other people" ? (LOLz)

They want to be in control, in the power to sever the relationship even though they were the ones that want to keep it going.

Or perhaps the people who dwell too long on a social encounter to which they were caught speechless, humiliated and insulted, and they run the scenario round in their head again and again, trying to find the right retort, that golden retort that seethe the air as you uttered it and shrivel your opponent to a pathetic raisin of pain, hmm?

This fruitless exercise of wanting to upping the ante and returning the pain is quite taxing energetically, and so, why do people do it?

Obsesssion, not just a perfume,
because the irony is this: it stinks.

The Limitations of Forms:

Before you all get into a tizzy again about what I write,

I need you to take a breath and then smile.

Or maybe applaud me :P

Trust me, there is a reason for doing so -- I'll get to it, I promise.

A few years ago, I wrote on this blog regarding this song that I liked alot.
It is by Bergman, and it is called "Enigmas in your hand".

I liked the title and the inherent themes meditated upon:
can enigmas, these abstract, nebulous, strange, puzzling and mysterious 'things' fit into a hand?
(and what does it mean when we call a thing a thing? what is the inherent "thing"ness of it all? is tactile properties a requisite value to fit the definition, if so, what about love, kindness, horror and death, they are intangible, and yet they are very real 'things'...hmmm)

It seems in a way analogous with another of my favourite riddle;
"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?",
but Bergman's more of a humanist spin.

A recent reader of my blog commented why I am so mean and cruel to the belief of God,
and I think she may have mis-read the whole thing.

I don't.

I am against people who profane the idea of God with politics, elitism, exclusions, exceptions and outright intolerances.

God to me is kinda a "summa cum espiritu", it is not an old guy with longwhite beard on a throne. I leave that to Zeus, Wotan and other skyfather archetype gods ( to which i ask you sincere Christians to do a double-check and see if the early church fathers may have phucked you over by putting a fake puppet on the throne... aren't you worshiping a pagan god in disguise? GASP! lolz).

God to me is all thing at once, it (yup, not, he, she or whatever) is also those emotions and feelings and thoughts and the dynamic, it is the symmetry and the thing itself, it is its memory and the memory of it, it is its sounds, its texture, its flaws, its cracks and every emotion and feeling it elicits from experiencers, and yes, the experiencers themselves too. it is also the minute and the times ticking in that instant where the experience and phenomenon occurs.

god is not a thing, god is so variegated and diversified and working in on itself with tandem in the partitioned intelligence that formed the consciousness of all life, that it understands a far grander symmetry than we, a mere small partition of that cosmic intelligence or consciousness cannot hope to grasp. so, HOW DARE WE TRY TO SAY OR DEFINE GOD?!

So, as an after-thought, me trying to describe God here in such a diluted manner, is technically an imposition. However, I am merely making a metaphorical suggestion, something not even as an idea or a supposition, or a theory, or a hypothesis, it's just a shallow thought, a whimsy. a glimpse of a shadow of a reflection of a symbol of a diluted summary of a description of god, IF god can be described in the first place. geddit?

morality and ethics tho'...ahhh, now that is the hobby-horse of humans, rocking vigorously on it, back and fro, but going nowhere essentially -- we can muck in its mire and sling the shite around with sheer abandon, because i don't see God sinking so low. there maybe, at one time, biological, viral and hygenic reasons to dictate the way we operate and behave to ensure the species survive, but reaaaallly, it needs some updating, unless i throw Leviticus at you, and you throw deuteronomy back at me, like an immature snowball fight.

So, if you hear me bitch about the Church, then know that it is just me poking fun and holes in them, but on the (w)hole, I am cool with God, just not so with people who take the proverbial basket of LEGO blocks that is God and greedily make inappropriate shapes with them, and then hog it, and not let the other children play with it, and most sacrilegiously, freeze god in just one form, while we know (simple: we read the instructions on the LEGO box) that God is in the permutations.

but like all lovely things, God is also about inclusiveness, so it means, arses like elitists and exclusive mother-loving sons of female chihuauas also have a role in the spectrum of God.

Hey, after all, without the Bullies, what are the rest of us whimpy kids gonna complain about? These Bullies serve the function of unconventional teachers; by their examples, we see the definition of what being an Ass would be like, so we conscientiously avoid those social behaviours and protocols, yeah?

simple.

God is Elegant.

Oh yeah,

I forgot, the whole friggin point of this post: the Bergman video.

You see, I am currently still buzzing with the existential High of it all:
the song that i have mentioned to you years ago is now available on Youtube,
and it is a strange feeling, because i am consciously awaiting for a Bergman video to appear for so long, thinking about it, even as I heard the song,
and now, such a video has come into existence.

In a way I superceded the process, and have been waiting for technology and reality to finally catch-up; but at the same time, I am conscious of the fact this song "brings me back" in a nostalgic fashion of sorts, so here I am standing at this threshold that pulls me in the future and also pulls me back in time.

I love it.
It's only as a human that I can feel this kaleidoscopic.

anways, enough of me bullshitting on my soap-box, i have to go grab a spade to shovel crap off it now, before i can stand on it again, lol.

enjoy the video <-- this is the link to youtube.

Hey true believers,

i don't know if you guys are still reading this, but here I am at it again.

It has been a while, and much has happened, I will fill you in at a later date, and maybe we can all catch up.

I am writing here again because I miss my GF.
I hope she is reading this still, and pass by from time to time to check if there is a proverbial lightat my proverbial window.

I miss her very very much, and I want to talk to her again.
I want to say that I am very sorry, and I did not go through with the literal suicide as I thought I could.

I can't bear to be without her touch and her kiss, and her hugs.
I am most happy there.
I want her back so I am wiritng again because I want her to know this.

By no other star do I sail this ship
By no other breath that could give me life
She is my autumn and my spring
her absence is winter and her warmth is Summer
In her arms I can never grow old
In her arms I will never die.

Her name is sacrosanct
but I am blessed as she lets me whisper it
Her form is perfect
but I am gifted as she lets me touch it
Her soul is eternal
but I am inspired for she let me share it

I think I need to get a T-shirt that says : My GF rocks!

Thinking back, when other girls hoped that I hit on them,
I never did -- all these years -- she must know this right?

If that is not a small measure of my loyalty to her, I don't know what else to offer now.

Honey, If you are reading this,
can you please drop by?
I miss you and I love you lots

I did not mean to go away,
but life was too heavy,
and I don't want you to see me so banged-up like this.

I am trying to be okay now,
I am just worried about you, is all,
I wanna know that you are at least happy, and ok.

then, even if you don't come back,
i can die happy.

i miss you
i love you.

Natasha Bedingfield Vs Chicane - Bruised Water

This is a beautiful seamless mash-up of Chicane and Natasha Bedingfield!

Dear Guys,

I found this on Youtube,
hope you like it...
Chicane is just awesome!!!
Click here for the Video <--

You know, this came out before the whole MATRIX thing,
but of course, Alice In Wonderland came out before these two.

Lineages, what a hoot!!

But more than that, this constant looping of our existence, that we try to tell ourselves that it is good:
it is "routine"
it is "discipline"

but is is this the truth of its "goodness" or is it a lie we tell to pacify ourselves.
How many of us has slept through our routines... when we brush our teeth, are we thinking aobut our teeth or are we thinking of something else?
Or maybe, when we sit on the crapper and are pooping --- hmmm....

Enjoy the video nonetheless.

NUOVO PAROLONA

LEARN BIG NEW WORDS!!

"Crazybusy":

Originated in a short poem titled "bad-hare days" in 2000 by Vancouverite recluse-poet, Kit Wong:

Mad-bee in my bonnet mesh of bed-head hair twitchinair sniffin
mess-see then do and concludina crazybusy bustled by the hustl'ah multitaskin self is askin for troubles

The poetic device/concept is to find two rhyming words that replicate the buzzing sound simultaneously, and made an aural rhythmn -- this, in turn, symbolizes the multitasking madness that we all encounter in the midst of our lives when chores overwhelm our singular ability to perform the labour, and we attempt to side-step the process by multi-tasking, sometimes making it worse.

It can also be use to mean someone who attempts to multi-task to appear highly effective/efficient, but often falls short.

It can also be used in describing an attempt of applying hare-brained strategies to chaos-manage, but seems destined for failure, although not indicative of failure or success yet. It is felicitously used as an interim description before the final outcome of a bout of multi-tasking


Examples:
"The day's been crazybusy"
"That suggestion isn't going to work, why, it's just crazybusy!"
"You're just being a crazybusy, aren't you?"

Recently,

I have rethought about my desire for the definitive dichotomy between good and evil. I know there may be some of you that would disagree with my posting that i desire that.

hold on a minute.

in view of current American politics, you may be tsk-tsking your way to the mouse to click to another blog, but hang on a moment.

what i mean is the ultimate dichotomy, not this shitty subjective gd vs evil that some idiot on a podium can decide and classify. I mean a truly good vs the truly banal base evil.

i still keep to my desires, but i would like to divorce it from the shitty context of today. If you ask me the people who claims that today are no different than the grayish morass of compromises, because they are merely assuming the mantle of goodness but have not earn the right for it, thereby counterfeiting their promises and so-called strictures.

so there.

Since my last post, I thought it was meaningful for a pause.
But I am back now.

It seems that time does not really do much healing, it is the distancing that we have to the event that causes us discomfort that healing can occur.

Sometimes, some wounds never ever heal.

are you prepared for those?

i wonder about that Christ allegory where he healed the leper, does he mean that he offers healing for those rotting s(c/k)eptic falling to piece day by day kinda folks?

now before i continue, let me say that I am not a religious person, i do not believe in all that crap about Christianity (Catholic, Protestants, Evngelical, etc). I think it is all hooey, and I feel it is all crap and I believe it's all stupid powerless evil and base and conceited people out to make you in their own image. not Christ's or God's ( and even then, I don't want to be their cookie cuttered version. I want me to be me, but better).

But I mean to say is the inner teachings that those Christians and Religious types will never find, because they hang around in magnificient buildings, but never enter the house of the Lord. Yes I am looking at you Billy Graham, and your cronies whose been sucking cocks of HIV riddled male hustlers, and those who fuck underaged beauty pageant "Miss"es, digging their stubby fingers ringed with thick bands of gold, tell the little girl to hush up or Jesus will be angry at them...

makes you wonder how pornographically suggestive is the maxim "What Would Jesus DO?" isn't it?

Is he into the Bukkake scene, I mean he has been known, in the Gnostic Gospel of Mary Magdalene, to "speak intimately into her --", and the term speak in aramaic has connotations of "pass into" "pour into", or if you like 'ejaculate', in fact even by the 1800s, the term "the crowd joyfully ejaculated at the happy announcement" is still used.

I am sure for the Christians who waited patiently for Jesus to Come, the question they should be worrying about is, will they spit or swallow.

It would be nice to meet Christians who practice what they preach, but those are few and far between.

No wonder Satan got pissed.
Can't blame the guy.

That being said-- let's return to the inner teachings of the Annointed One

( yup, Christos means the annointed one. It is not the same as messiah, that's another thing altogether, it's a different function. I hate it that these bible thumpers use all these terms but know fuck-all of it and we get more and more of these little shits and twats coming out of Jesus Camps without a fucking clue what they are saying)

One question that i must ask you to think about is:

WHY does Jesus speak in parables?
and then, at times he just say some really obvious things like,
"love each other" or some shit.

Is he still parablizing or is he switching modes?

Why Parable?
What does a Parable function as in the confines of speech, and in conversation?

Are we suppose to take it at face-value?
How much symbolic or metaphoric plumbing must we do?
Are there guidelines to give us ideas if we are 'getting it right'?
or are we all just winging it?
is the ambiguity a strategy of his for something else?

or is he just a puppet for Mary Magdalene? By apocryphal accounts, she know him before he went around on his rock-star circuit. And she paid for food and lodgings form him and his krewe.

Is there really a meaning that collates to everyday existence, or is he hinting at something more?

But more importantly, if you come up with your assumptions, will you be ramming it down our throats or will you keep it to yourself and not beleaguer us with it?

think about that.

Have we finished with stories yet?

The truth might be scarier than we thought.

You see, if there is a book where stories are written let's say we are past the last page, and looking at the back cover-- which is ironic because it's a teaser of the book we've just read.

the problem is that we've nothing left to say. The problem with Jungian psychology is the scary danger. Like Churches, it's full of ass-scatology ( ok ok not being fair here) it's all fucking eschatology.

you live though this fucking story that people have lived before you. so much for free will? It's like designer underpants:

"oooohooooh! so special! it's designer" but there is more than a million silly little twats who have the same sized "designer" undies like yours. It's wearing pre-made special, not necessarily customized.

so your grand story of success is a silly little fucked up carrot story told to you to tell yourself and live by. ask what everyone around you wants, and you'll find the answer is about the same. bottom line. just that it's either in a larger scale or smaller scale.

all the stories have been told
all stories been written
our bodies dictate our tales, because we want our bodies in a certain way, our desires are so fleshly, carnal and boring.

ecstasy is just a chemical now. there is no box from which to think outside.

so review your once upon a times, it's the same boring shit, and you can be sure, there is no closure when you die, you're probably end it mid-sentec--

http://men.style.com/fashion/style_notes

try this place down for, or up for
sizes

Hedi silmane is nice, but unless I am on crack or cocaine, I'll look more healthy in the Ralph Lauren, Prada, Gucci or Armani.

I am not gonna be a roid monkey like Canseco, but at least I am lean tone and defined, fuck that auschwitz diet look, man. It's fucking disrespectful.

give up
lie down
take a breath and see what comes up next
irony is what. i dunno why we are doing this, why we are doing this. life is a silly thing and i am so tired and sleepy now that it does not matter anymre. love is leeched out and hope is a funny little made in china bobbly head doll. I have no clue as to what I am talking about anymore. life sucks and then we realized that life sucks. I think what it all comes to is just a bunch of hooey and who is keeping us in the game. i am not afriad to die, just that the pain that comes with the dying part is so annoying, and unnatural death are sledom pretty.

i want to look good when i die, thzt is the least i can do for myself right?

i just hoe that there is a way that i can keep my senses up, energy up, and head down. this is just too maddening, and my wrist hurts already.

it hurts it hurts and it hurts some more
this sucks. I don't understand this state of humanity;
it bugs me, why do I have to be human, anyony other thing but human.
I would like to be an abstract.

Humans are fallible and shitty, they are diluted and impure, why are these material things so clean and clear? Is it because in that there is no life? I don't know, this waffling existence serves up to me full of pain.

hungry as a cat

that which is most bitter is the taste of shunning faces
that which is the sweetest is the brotherly grip
but these are all the palatte of mortal tongue
this human fruit
that apple is an earthly fare
and may stay the hunger for a while

hungry am i but I know like promagranate seeds
death-touched if once it touched but once my lips

the only succour comes from that ambrosia kiss
that from heaven-poured have never touched the earth
like the pelican young I reach
for that flaming draught
and in time yearned
to a phoenix transformed

while in the mean-
time a lonely shadow walked
knocking on doors and
snatching scents from fleshly traps
not too far a-step from that passed-over fruit
hungry turn my head
but my feet tugged my heart, must move forth

Okkayy, so here it goes.
Do I have to write anything this time?

Okay, here's the thing,
big big big things are happening, and I mean, BIG
scary big.
Good, but scary big...

man, I'll keep you posted, but I can't stop grinning!
About damn time!

Laterz

MAN! I just got two more collections added to my list

DJ Sammy (his "green Court Remix" of 'Boys of Summer')
and
Paul Van Dyck (his dastardly sick 'another way')

they both rock in the good sense, and I feel like caffinated when I have their stuff on my player.
Seriously folks, go check them out!

Any good news on my part? Um, I guess so, I got something that's gonna be hitting the publications soon, looking forward to adding to my petit repetoire.

will keep you posted!

laterz.

It's officially a fiasco.
Don't T.A. ever if you can.
If you can afford it, just bypass it.

I hate whiny students that don't have a shred of maturity in them, and then complain about anything and everything that they had not done work on.

I am a T.A. , not a nanny, not indentured labor and most importantly, I am not here to give you an 'A', you gotta earn it. I am feeling disillusioned by the whole educational system. Stupid kids that should have been whupped proper before letting them into the university. What makes them feel so special about themselves? They sure don't seem to deserve it from the behaviour that I have seen from them.

Here's how you can leave comments or read comments about this Blog.

See that little time-stamp at the end of the message?
JUST CLICK ON IT!!!!

you'll prolly get another window to pop open and then you can write to your little hearts' content you guys!

I know you are reading this!

So for Heaven's sakes, leave me a note or something, or better yet, email me.

Hope to hear from you guys.

Yup,

I am right.

No only did that someone read my blog, but its actually able to get in.
Well, Fucker, I changed the password, good-fun trying again.

I hate these share-a-computers.
Do you feel like a big shot motherfucker?
Well, hack your own asshole, cuz shit's been drooling out of your mouth.
Har-Har.

I'll like you to try again, and while you're at it, why don't you delete the whole fucking thing?
Life's transient anyways, so why should anything stay?

I curse you:
May your most cherished dreams and desires that you have worked to realize turn to shit and rot your being to the very core till the end of eternity.

How'd you like that? Nice one hey?
Piss me off and that's what you get.
No Refunds, lol.

Ack.

Summer.
Sun-mer.

Won't I like to take a dip in the Mer.
But I got sunburnt last few days, and my shoulders are red, hurts to towel down after a shower.
Damn.
Land-scaping sucks, and did I mention my homework load?

I hate teaching now. Students are ungrateful and unreasonable. I will refrain from teaching Summers-- most students assume it would be "easy" and expect grades they don't deserve, and some pester me to give them higher grades. What the Hell is the world coming to?! I hate people who trys to get something for nothing.

Furthermore, there are some students (as some people have told me) that they want to lodge complaints as to my teaching skills, that I was a bad tutorial leader, because they got a bad grade in the course. Um, that's funny, because there are a majority of students who tend to disagree, and I think those who complained are insecure-- if they cannot understand anything, and refuse to ask me to clarify for fear of looking stupid, then, blame themselves, not me.

I have made ample options for them to ask me questions 'before' and 'after' tutorials, and even open the 'email me' or 'custom appointments' options to them. Some of these students are so immature, they lash out to hurt you personally. I heard some student said that this student, in passing, made a remark that I was behaving unprofessionally ( i.e. flirting) with said student and another. It is horrifying to hear that, not only is that untrue, it is also insulting to my level of aesthetics and professionalism. That level of callousness that in order to get a grade change, said student tries to destroy my reputation and career, just because. What I hate is the fact that, the evil and sneaky ones can pretend to be "oh so victimized" and cry crocodile tears to claim victimhood and manipulate other people's emotions, but what about me? Who gives me a fair ear in this matter? I am so upset that I can't even cry.

Rule #1: Don't T.A. if you can afford it. Being poor sucks.

That being said-- if you cannot afford otherwise (like me) then...

Rule #2: Avoid Summer sessions because some students think that they can slip by on the easy, because "it's Summer", and they expect reward for their laziness.

Rule #3: Trust gut instincts, if you feel that there is a psycho-student, be careful. Only interact in proximity to witnesses.

Rule 4#: Don't be overly nice, it doesn't pay to be overly nice so as to be considerate to student emotions, because they will try and take advantage of you or invent rumours in the shadows.

Rule 5#: Do not give benefit of the doubt. No one really cares about anyone but themselves. Period. I am revising my way of life to no longer put others before me, or strive for the ideal of serving my fellow humans.

Some people tells me to not lose my integrity over this, and I am unsure about it. Do I want to be crucified over this? Keep my integrity and may get 'screwed' professionally by a psycho, or give in and let said psycho get points undeserving? What do you think?

Worse of all--
I suspect someone in school is reading my blog, and have been too chicken shit to write comments, I think they are using it as Ammo (Gossip) behind my back (and then 'stab'). So I guess they are prolly dancing with joy that this is happening to me. People will do anything to anyone just so they can get ahead. Should I become like them?

Why do people lie? It's so annoying, especially when it's to my face. I'm not dumb, I know they are lying, but it really pisses me off that they think they can get away with it-- it's insulting to my intelligence, and very presumptious about theirs.

At the very least, I am trying to come to terms about the ugly side of Humanity. Some one dear told me that these people are hurting and damaged so they lash out to hurt others, but really, that's not fair. Why do they have to hurt innocents? Because they 'can'?

The concept of Justice needs to be redefined.

I long for the days when the world is cleanly dichotomized into the Evil and the Good, now the morass of Gray is making it worse for everyone, because no one has any standards to measure what is 'ethically' right or 'wrong'-- it is no longer "Cool" to be ambivalent, it's just greedy people trying to justify their selfish actions.

I think it is just abusage of rhetorical sophistication where the wrong actions are given a dilemmic spin so it confuse and troubles us. Perhaps the first notion to all judgement and critique is "the Ends does not Justify the Means". I think with that notion, people will be able to get alittle better grasp of the situation. It applies to the angry avenger punishing the bad guy, and the bad guy who does bad things which provoked the rise of the avenger as well.

Ah well comic book dreams ....

I don't want excuses
I don't want your smiles
I don't want this distance
that keeps us apart ten thousand miles
I don't want your attitude
I don't want your dance
I don't want your song that never change
I just want your love

I am floating on Bergman again... for those who dunce know what to do, but would like to lissen to the man, well, easy:

go to my profile link and look for that little audio linc, and then simpperly click on it, and you'll download it into your computer. It's no virus, hunnsters, it's actually pretty good. For those of you viralphobics, this is REALLY a song-- and If I want to pass you a virus, I won't wear a condom, ok? Geez, Just kidding! I'm clean as a, er, whistle (hmmm, eerie no?)

I feel alittle at ease now, I just spent the day catnapping and blogging and also a little studying. I did the gym this morning but I didn't like it as much for once, cuz my mind was away... and it is looking out alot nowadays as oppose to looking in. So, giving it sometime to look in is always reassuring, I mean you don't know what you have until you checked, am I right?

Talked to my friend/s about committing suicide today:

How would you do it?
When?
Is it a statement you'll be making or merely the efficient greasy-spotting of yourself on a pavement?

I figured I;ll like to make a statement, and I always like water, maybe I'll go drown myself at the sea if I would do it, and I'll attach a water-proofed bottle with a little note in it.

Or maybe get myself immolated, and my ash compacted into little pellets so that these little pellets can be sent out to friends and subscribers of my blogg. It think that'll be cool.

My friend perfer to go at the moment of orgasmic climax. A Heart-attack.
the other just want to slit wrist in a hot water bath.
One had the awesome vindictiveness to go get aids and sleep with all of her Exs and people she doesn't like... whoa, remind me not to piss her off!

There are moments where I want to go screaming and crying like a baby... which is alittle counter-productive, but me thinks jumping off a building is classic, I think paradoxically, that's the bravest act, one should not be afraid to be afraid at the moment of death-- and is willing to accept the greatest fear-- that I may splitseconds b4 dying, actually change my mind, lol..... yeah, i maybe a masochist too, lol.

Ah death, why does any talk of her has to be taboo, or clinically mad?
If we can talk about living and retirement and sex and chocolate, why can't we talk about death?
It's a part of life, we can love it alittle, can't we? The great equalizer, that she is.

In a world where nothing is fair or absolute ( and there never was promises that it would be), I think she is the last possible one to hang my cap and neuroses on, she takes all irregardless, you gotta admire that kinda professionalism, yeah?

Maybe we can prepare ourselves for life, by learning alittle about death.

I always noticed that almost all the people who die, seems to harbour some regret and that they are afraid to let go. Those that do let go are by far the more interesting people sub group of citizentry. Life isn't just about living and running away from death. Life is also respecting the dignity that you live your death as well. go with alittle pizzazz, go with a bang-

-- oops guess that orgasmic death throes isn't quite as silly as I thought it to be after all, eh?

food for thought
chocolate for sex:

Self destruction is a luxury
Self preservation is a Necessity.
Life is you constantly writing post dated checks for your experiences.

Oh God.

I am teaching again.

-- this semester, that is.
You know it's becoming a nasty habit. I love to give it up but I can't
I think in a previous life, I was someone's mom who died with nagging on her lips.
EW.
I just keep trying to drown the fuckin wide-eyes in more info., cuz IT'S IMPORTANT!
I let 'em talk but they never say nothing, so I will just let them bull-shit their way all wrong.
Oh well. I should moonlight as some sorta S&M guy with a sk8bored and make'em pay me for teachin 'em Old English and Old High German and Latin and Medieval History in trivia mode, while I whip them and make'em lick my boots.

Ew. Damn I shouldn't chat with "D" quite so overmuch. Her vibes rubbed off on me this week, I got a major overdosage of whips, chains, comics and ethical-go green-biodegradable cleaning agents for dildos. She's awesome, and prolly the only girl I know who's a Grad student that works as a Dominatrix. Peeps who actually have a copy of the Georgia Straight might be able to locate her. She Ain't cheap, so she told me. I dunno. I remember "D" as the funky comic book GRRRL, and by the way, "D" if you are reading this:

"WHERE'Z MY JHONNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIC ISSUE#3, bEE-YATCH!??!"

(AND DON'T YOU GET ANY CHOCOLATE PUDDING'ED STILLETTOED FOOT PRINTS ON IT, I'M ON TO YA!)

Ahem.
Yeah, like I was sayin--
I am teaching again; it's awful fun, but I miss being just a student where I can workout more regularly, read mindless drivel and also watch TeeVee, and have the time to window drool at new books, cool boards and maybe stylin' threads. I still can't afford any (the moo-lah I make go straight back my tuition) of the cool stuff, but it sux if I can't even droool at them, y'know?

I haven't been downtown for over 2 months, folks, that totally sucks. I drape a gym towel over my board cuz I don't wanna face it in shame. Fuck. I hate being grounded. It feels like I am...well, grounded. (Duhhh...drool....hhuhuuhhh....). Gym time is minimal and when I am there, I worry about work, studies and all der shite.

Ah NEED a LYfe!!!
Come save me!
Lay yer hands on my kaboose and free me to ride my board!
Phuck. I wanna go out soooo bad.
but there's so much homework.

When did I become such a responsible turd?
Phuck- thank god most of my riding buddies don't read this shit.
else I'll lose all the street cred.

Phuck.

The trick is this:

"Focus"

But like all cameras of yore where we do it manually, we have relegated it to machines for autofocus. It's not too bad, they do pretty good jobs of it too. Unfortunately, we lose the ability to focus, and worse when we want to focus we let the machine handle it, and we don't even think about it. The process is lost to us skill-wise as well as cognitionwise.

Sucks to be us? Well maybe. I think it is nice to do it the manual way. Machines are kewl, but I like my hand on the steering wheel. I like to be alittle blurry somedays, and other days to get it really sharp. Some days I like to pan out, and other days just zooming into the little details.

The problem is, who remembers how to manual focus anyways?
I remember some, but I am learning from people who have forgotten how to fully focus as well.
so I get bits and bits of little truicks but not the whole picture.

But Focus you see, is just a trick.
It's the living that comes after, it's that capturing of that moment to get it just right, that really matters.

Focus is just the first step--

but it's a step we have yet to learn.

In the meantime, we keep taking all these god fucgly fotos, and we have to live with 'em, because my friends, we only get a roll in this lifetime, and we dunno if it is a 12, 24 or 36 exposures.

Luck of the draw, so focus for the shots ok?
Cuz we dunno when it'll end.

Oh yeah:
remember to take off the lens-cap too.

Ever wondered how jesus felt when he swing down from the cross, and had to slowly pull those nails from the center of his palms, and then hop along as he pulled the last one from his two feet, and then, geez how do you close your hands into fists, if ever?

Had a strange dream the other night, about the same scenario, lol... go read into it people, do your freudian and your Jungian and all that shit. The thing is that I didn't feel like I died it was just this really really nasty experience. I don't remember the whole dream, I just remember swinging down from that big monkey-bar, and pulling nails from the center of my palms.

Residual sensations: I still feel the burning pain spot in my palms when I woke up. Talk about creepy. I sat on the crapper and waited for it to pass-- I even went and put my hand in cold water. I don't remember wearing a crown of thorns in my dreams... heh... maybe I wasn't Jesus, just one of those sad arsed Mo-Fos who happened to piss off the Romans enuff to get that kinda treatment.

maybe I need a shrink, or I can psychoanalyze myself already. MArtyr syndrom, or guilt complexes or messiah whathaveyous. Ah Phuck it. It's all crap that our ego pull to make us feel very very special in a time when we obviously feel we are not. It's all bullshite folks, don't buy a single shiny silver pieces for it.

Judas:
=====

Do you think he deserve what he deserved?
I don't know. I mean JC definitely let him go along on his little schemes, and what is to say that JC didn't passively assent to that. I mean he had to croak for the world or it's gonna be one wasted trip, right? So, Jude did what he is supposed to... if he didn't do it, we'll are be rotting ( not that we aren't right now). Don't we have to thank the man?

Ah, Religion is full of contradiction, it's like the Atkins diet, full of commandments and strictures, all you do is eat protein and drink protein (This is my body, this is my blood), and You go through this crazy Zealot stage first, and then you slowly eased out of it to non-practicing Christian mode. Ultimately, you gain back the bagagge that you've lost, and sometimes, you even get fatter as a result. It's something you have to constantly maintain, and the founder of the movement is dead, tho' ppl still believe in him. Oh yeah... one other thing, for it to work, you have to back it with faith and hope....

but too much of this way of life will get you killed.

Went into a church recently,
it's a building and then, it's not.

It's amazing how it flips back and forth. I mean, it's like this humongous 'imaginary friend network': there is physically nothing in there, but people who are in on the game will see it like there is and interact with it.

I thought it was kind of cool.

The best part is, they sell you the unicorm conundrum:

"Once long ago, it existed, but it just disappeared, but someday, if you believe it hard enough, it will come back."

The sweetest thing is, sometimes if you are driving on the road at night, and you think you see the glimpse of white rear arse of a whitish horse of a neighbouring farm, you would think for an instant, "holy geez, is that a unicorn? Yeah... it gotta be it...". And that's how the
I THINK I saw a unicorn anecdote becomes I SAW a unicorn", cuz Faith not only could move mountains, it could also erase words, change alibis ( often into testimonials), and best of all perpetuate an event that never really happen.


Still:
What ever gets you through the day huh?

I am not against all this funny brouheheheh. I mean if the shit works use it. If we need to believe in a horse with an antenna jutting out of it's forehead, kewlies. I know guys who smoke pot and saw worse.

I buy the odd lottery ticket cuz It's fun. It's good to be able to buy a piece of hope. Not to say that we should all rush out and buy a ticket. If livelihood is a problem, get your head out of your arse and save your pennies, if $3 is gonna make a diff between starving or eating, go fill your bellies. But for those people like me who don't really starve but pretty much is still hungry from not getting all the food I want, then, $3 gets you through that extra mile, cuz I bought myself a week of hope or a month of hope-- depending on when the draw's being made.

For that small interim, I can imagine myself holding the lucky ticket and all material problems will disappear. It's a lie I buy, and I paid $3 for it-- because I can afford it. because $3 for a week works out to about 43 cents a day. Of course, the tricky part is not to buy too much hope, becuae when it doesn't pan out then you get stuck with a load of hope gone bad-- disillusionment.

Hope and Faith is like morphine, alittle can make a shitty experience better, like post-op recovery, but too much will cause an addiction.

Surgeon General's Warning: use sparingly please.

I'm still me, nothing is really different.
I know that if you are reading this, you'll be thinking...
Geez what happened to the dude?
Nothing happened. just life. just things.
I don't know if this is true, but i suspect that it might be growing up.
a step closer to death
-- and I welcome it. It's a wonderful experience, this slowness, this temperate enjoyment of pleasure
as opposed to the heady rush of ecstatic life experiences?

don't get me wrong, i still do stupid things, but this time there is a bit more meditative pleasure when I go skimming down asphalt, in the middle of crazy traffic.

it's life you know?
can end immediately, can last a long time.
can pick the fruit from the vine, or watch it fall on the grass, rot and shrivelled.
life.

no apologies
just life.

Being human

That's all that we can ask for.

The battles of Heaven and Hell Good and Evil have become nothing more than abstract ideas that have trapped us instead of being clues and prompts which to understand ehat it means to be humans. Have you ever think about how these stories are eternal and immortal? Yup, they never changes, they are immortal, im-mortal. NOT MORTAL.

And what are we?
We shit, piss, eat, fart, burp, cry , laugh and most importantly, we die, surely as we live and grow.
It's natural, it's cool, it's not a bad deal.

We never needed to go anywhere, we are already here.
It's who we are and instead of enjoying and meditating and appreciating who we are, why are we so desperate to be something else, and be something we are not??

Maybe it's something we think is good because it's so rare:

The moment when we have shit and pissed, and having drunk and ate, that after burp satiation, we feel like we can do anything-- suspended in that split second, when our body is quiet, and we can be gods, but then what?
what is it that we can do? it's like a child creating a storm in the bath tub that he is in. It's still our world there is nobody else, and we make a mess, for what? because we're the ones who have to clean it up.

Little vanities.
the term is vanity
the person who has vanity is vain
and the things he do is in vain... it's not a coincidence that vain means for no purpose and for nothing.

why is good and evil so desperate to recruit us? who is there trying to make promises for good or for bad.
eternity a heavenly existence
or earthly power and wealth.
sounds good, but what for?

I am opting to walk away.
Let good and evil fight.
I am thinking that, if good and bad are so immature that they have to resort to fighting to solve their problems, I am not going to partake in that. there is still beauty in the sunset there is still lessons in despair. I am human, the point is that I laugh and I cry, the point is that I will fudge and make mistakes, and at certain moments shine out with saintliness to redeem somebody, someone, something.

I am human, I choose the 3rd path. the middle path , not right, nor left.
I don't know if there is heaven or hell, or nothing. but so what?
Maybe there is nothing waiting for me, maybe I just rot, at least i am honest in my rotting, and not dreaming that i come out of death with a indestructable body and living forever, or become some demonic vampire living forever too.

it's life.
life which means that there is death

I choose life because there is death inherent.
I don't know if it is better to live forever, if nothing ever changes.
I rahtrer laugh to show that positive ecstasy, and cry because there is beauty in the admittance of sadness.
there will be poverty in the world ther will be richers, disappointment, inspiration. that's life.


I do want to say that,
if we choose this third path, ther may be ppl who will be out there who do not subscribe, and continue to act in the thrall of predominant ideas, and may make life difficult for you, so it is up to us to see the way through ourselves, and not let them affect us.
it's their choice of life, they are entitled to that.

Why do we strive so hard to be more than we are?
We laugh at the bodybuilder who's all steroided out and is bigger than his skeletal frame can sustain, and why is that? Why are we so eagle to distort ourselves, to warp ourselves to some ideal that is outside of ourselves?

I like talking to bodybuilders, cuz its interesting, the super big guys always say they wanna be "super-freaky" . And that's cool, it's their perogative. Just like the Monks who wants to be Abstain from meat and sex and wine. It's all a choice, or the Hedonist eho wants to sample every pleasure, the misanthrope who wants to perform genocide on an ethnic race, or the man who wants to be the most powerful or richest or whatever in the world.

Why this desire to escape the mortal? The human?
Why, instead of defining what is human,
we have defined the Good and the Evil, the Light and the Dark?

We have ancient Wisemen who can calculate the number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin, or how many cubits a demon of the air can inhabit all at once? Why not just calculate how long we get to live? Heh, so you say there are people who that, they're called insurance agents. True Dat, but really is that what they are doing? Why can't calculate how many smiles we have in alife time? the number of times we cry, what is the mystical experience when we feel when we look up at the clear blue summer sky or dig our feet into the sand on a beautiful beach?

Humans Experience can be that esoteric too.
Why do we, then, keep short changing it.
Inventing these abstract gods and devils and demons and totally forgetting about being humans in the meantime?
Or that we are so desperate to run away and make ourselves immortal-- and hoping that'll make us live forever.

This Above All, to thine own self be true.
We are Humans, and humans we were, are, and will be. There is no shame in needing to piss, shit, burp and fart, we all do it. We fudge, we forget, and honestly, do you really want to remember EVERYTHING? All the hurts in your life? For me, I don't want to, unless I get to remember all the joys too.

Stop for a moment and recount every joyful experience you have been in... how many are there? And now, count the sad stuff... is it more? I bet it usually is for th emajority of us. Because that's how we are, we are humans.

And do this if you have alittle more time, I want you to keep recalling all the happy stuff once everyday for a week, and see how long you need to reach that smile on your face... I bet it takes alittle longer everytime... but if you remember the sad stuff, it's the direct opposite, we take shorter a time to feel the sadness than yesterday.

There are possible explanations about it, but no one have spent too much time on these things, they prefer not to think on it, but they will think about the money making schemes that will deliver them form it, or they think about God, or the Devil to GET AWAY FROM ALL THIS.

Why do we align ourselves to these two polarity of the stories, why do we want to escape this mortality so much?
Is it because of its greatest kicker? We WILL DIE?

okay, but have you seen any living thing that doesn't? No because in order to live, we are mortal, and only when we are not mortal (thus immortal) that we don't die. Them the breaks, but is it so bad? to die?

I dunno... I don't think so.

I think death isn't something to be taken too personally, it's not GOD being angry with you, or the DEVIL wanting to spoil your fun, thems the breaks just the nature of who we are.

Before you cash in your chips and go join the Light Brigade or the Dark Brotherhood, ask yourself this. Ask yourself, have you ever truly think about being human?

It's an interesting hand we've been dealt no?
We have the ability to undo what nature have taken a millenia to do, namely push a pebble from the bottom of the ocean to the shore, with a flick of a wrist we can undo it all. What distance that would take a snail days to traverse, we can pick it up and set him across the road from crushing wheels and feet, so that it'll live. We can intervene, intercede and interfere.

In the meantime, we can laugh and cry and shit and piss, and taste and live. Everything live will die and all earthly pleasures will come and go. There are no immortal pleasures that I know of yet... so why are we trying so hard to sustain it all? Why do we fuck around, trying to maintain an unending orgasm, or poke needles in us for that all time high, or kneel and flagellate ourselves for that ecstasis of holiness and penitence all at once?

What about human joys? that smile, that laugh, that good cry, that good workout at the gym, that bite of doughnut or chocolate? It's mortal, we're mortal, what more can we ask? Why do we try to trascend or distort humaness? Why not just enjoy humaness?

I am not talking about dedadent lifestyle, just accepting the pleasure of the everyday, be in the moment, enjoy the pleasure of simple stuff. That means as we strive to get the carviar, we don't forget the pleasure of the sweet apple we are biting into.

Hey all, while we are on the music bend, here's something for you:
TAlvin Singh's Traveller, it's pretty darn cool. For the nights when you are waffling between drinking spice wine or slicing through the veils of rain. I prefer the latter. Make sure there's enough neon to add abit of Hue. It's the passing of the ghosts, where the shadows pull you out into the cold:

It's colder in winter, the steel shrinks every step of the way, it feels fluid tho' I don't know how, and the grey swims everywhich way

I don't remember the instant before, and the moment after, it's all one marble fugue of misty limbo
and you walk through it all.
or slice.
I slice, steps denote a rhythmn that I don't have, I move in the rippling out
spheres of movement
and the aureole of back spatter from the rain

who said beauty has to be summery?
beauty is also cold, is also bitter, is also the sluiced silver in slivers
of needle rain

who needs a hair-shirt, the rain
exquisite argent arrows falling on me, like some postmodern saint dying for my lack of faith
or from just too much of it
sounds Karmic
I don't know volitions
just flowing as the eddies move me through space and time, and possibilities and probabilities.
Sadness is eloquent, like despair,
it is the languorous body exposed in all its weakness and cicatrices
each scar a liberetto, a libre-mark on a symphony of parts
the thrumming of the heart, the piping of the lungs, the lips part like a curtain, and the ears resound like seashells

just a body
nothing more
shrouded in the neon green
night
night
night

Here's something for all you Bergman fans...
"Enigmas in your Hand"

(... now, this is a transelation, so bear with me)

Anywhere
step by step
I'm walking
my reverb spurts close to me
anywhere
singleday
I answer
my reverb comes to me
there, holding a smile
simply run away
escaping
escaping
away

cause the earth
I'm afraid
as she said goodbye
like a bird
on my way


Anywhere step by step
I'm walking
my re-word
still clings to me
anytime single day
I'm outside
my re-word
come to me


Well, that's about what I felt was with Bergman's opus, though I know I prolly got it wrong, still I like the scattered and phenomenonological aspect of the lines. I broke them up that way, hope it's okay.

Bergster, if you reading this, my apologies)


Ack... hmmm.... what's new I am freakin starin at the Computer for the PAst three days non-stop, I am in the business of making text, y'know, Phuck, this totally is tiring, making did-gital echoes and murmurs over the data pond... c'mon, gimmie a phreaking break here:
(scratch-scratch, reverb-reberb) old skool sneaker shue on the turn table.
MixMaster***X***

Watderfuceh?
Canadianana at its best.

Sheesh.
Lotus-center here, Vancouver under the Brolly, the Wetnorther Hollywoody, where the stars come to invest in West Van realestate. I miss Summer... but I am going to CAllyfornai-eh next week! Wheee!!!

Yeahhhh!!!!!
Bring my boards.
One for land one for sea!
I hope to not stare a computer for the first three days then I have to hunker down to churn out a paper on the fly [literally, will be island hopping too] (:P)

its gonna be Christmas with Coconuts.
Yum.

Question where the phuck does Santa slide down if you don't have a chimnney? A PAlm tree? those things aren't exactly the smoothese poles around ( can you imagine Jolly old St. Nick at the regular NudeNudeGirls XXX bar where they have a stripper-pole practicing his Tropical maneouvers for gift delivery for little nice island kiddies) Okay, get that G-string picture Outta your mind!! This is a respectable Blog!!!

Hmm.... eww... "I saw you baby shaking that Ass...." if you remember this song in that movie, leave me a comment on that movie title, Domo Arigato.


What's new?
Hmmm..... Well, I am churning out 2 more website or else I am toast. one is pseudo intellectual and the other have to be full-blown Academia. Oh geeze... ah heck... we'll see what I can conjur okay?

In the meantime:

Music:
Chicane :"Daylight" Original Mix
ATB: Chicane's "Daylight" Remix
(yup, I like my adaptations)
Bergman: "Enigmas in oyur Hand"
Bergman: "Like a Game"

Oh yeah, this guy is kinda cool
a link from the Frou-frou 6-degrees of separation: Gardenstate

He's cool on TV as a Scrub, I prefer Scrubs more than ER anyways, then again, I like pseudo medical shows that don't take themselves seriously...

watch Regit (A Magnificent Lars Von Trier venture) and sequel
Kingdom hospital (which is a Steve King's Inc. rip-off Adaptation)
or actually work there ....

"Clean up on Bed 6"
ew.

Near the end of the semester
not quite,
I owe a shit load
of work
and rolling up my proverbial sleeves and cuffs
the shit stormy dark nite's about to hit

no complaints no regrets just grind
there really is no other response and regrets, fuck,
they're a waste of toilet paper anyways

okay, so the catch up is this:

Whoa holy crapper, Waddled through the semester, teaching and learning at once, is it possible?
It isn't a Q about whether "Did I do it right?" It is that "But I did it anyway". So there is still an essay to shrink, a essay to grow, a website to conjure and oh yeah 92 bundles to grade. Wheeeee! Granted it's raining and cold, can't gym ( no time) and can't grind ( too wet), what'sa boy to do?

I met some people, and they're swell. But they are more curious about what I fuck than I would be about myself. Fuck all on the gender thing, so I may appear undecided and maybe I have decided, or maybe I have decided to be undecided because it's more fun and controversial. Ahhhh... fucking is about getting an endorphinic high, nothing about sexual preference, as long as you orgasm, that's it.

Love? leave that to the puppies.

When you Zen, you zen. You just let things slip like piss off a duck's back. Why am I pissing on the duck you ask? well, cuz it's there?! I don't keep tabs on that. I call that random deconstruction, I prefer to reconstruct the random. Back to the matter at hand ( no not the pen-is; the is-sue), so it's been nuts and the website is nuttier than ever... who uses the DNA as a model?

Oh my GAwd!! Honey's back!!!
It's Rocco Rot again (I was just rereading that entry and i was musing over it, and now she is back....) I love her! Honey's hugs are the best kind next to Mom's, they give, they got give and you feel life and love coming in from all sides of the Hug. Wow. I am giddy again. She can make you cry in the good way, and you thank her for it.

Food pales in taste, other things seems like a waste
of time when she is in your mind
and her Hug is as wide as the uni-
verse

Rocco Rot is called "Miss you"
HEy Hunnster, I miss you too. You have no idea how much, there was the dance and the pining, the standiong on the sidelines while the Universe waltzes with you, and here I am stitting, suffocating, in the blue
now you are back, and it's a phunk beat, honey flap those sweet sweet wings
She is so beautiful you can die happy
She is life
and that is all there is
can you hear her symphony
the arrangements
the hum and the thrum of sang and sangre
she's not angry, that's the most important, that she gets it, that it's just the life of me, but she gets it, she's so understanding. love the girl.

57 pages
single spaced, 12-point Times New Roman
3 times edit
it's done
now i am really scared.
i think i thrive on pattern and cycle
I need to let go.
Let it be marked and judged.
But I am so scared.
Dude, this is the honours thesis man.
Lee said it's good scholarship
and good language
except maybe my own fhreaky style and it's the verb change
y'know re-verbbing
the scholarship is not suspect.
my consolation tonight.

I feel like I want to explode and go ecstactic
but part me wanna just say don't do it yet.
sighh..
I talked to my mentor today.
MAN, it felt so good. it's good to know they care and know and think the same. I was kinda beginning to freak some. Anyways, it went good today. Classes was great. I kinda brought up the sooper-structure of spiels, and the kids loved it, but I dunno if I did it right, I don't wanna do it bad, y'know?

okayokay, letthing that slide. Damn, what am I on? neuroses-lite? LOL.
'kay let's just relax and go slouch on the couch, and kick back the flap. hmmmmmmm what to say?

Oh yeah. I rediscovered Moonraker today, it is soooooo coool!! It's like water, running over
spilling over me and everything in the room, man it's awesome.
you should listen to it. Honest...It's the David Arnold version tho'.

before you go bitching that Islippe don the class,
listen up-- i'm old skool enuff, but it's the bass-lineon the remix that's totally rockin'. it's great. trust me.

Hey, it's me again

slippin' in for a short short
before lunchy and grind again...

just gotta tell ya about Astrud Gilberto.
She totally ROXX
if you can get your hand on some of her stuff, do so!
Look for it under Genre of "Bossa Nova" (New Wave).
Like all cool CDs, it's produced by VERVE ( my fave label)
I like "desafinado" it's pretty cool. Astrud's grooves are not for rushing, it's for those sun drenched days, or rainy noons, when you are pining for a bit of glow y'know?

(By the way, I am supping on some nice light stewy soup, and it's Yum)

Point is, I think I found a natural lithium here, not some
chemmy crap, but something that settles the stirred up crap, and loosen the knots in the tummy.

okay, gotta slide on by,
you kids chill y'hear?

skating by on insinuations
swinging through on vines of gossips
lurking under thickets of assumptions
skittering across marbled tiles of preconceptions
wobbling across on tightrope of tension
so much depends
on tension and attention
high risk and high stress
but why give it such a relaxing name?
why call it a Lie?

"truth makes strange bedfellows"

What happens when You have to wear six personas at once?
Is it not stuffy ?
Is it not warm?
Can I breathe?
Can you breathe?

AH Fhuckit.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that we don't grow man... the old model of reality and maturity isn't real, oh hasn't been real, or prolly we've mutated since that Dickensian coming of Age crap. The fin-de-siecle deal is this: We never had grown, we mutate, we encapsulate we branch out, but we've never really "grown" or matured.

Doozy, I know, but gimmie a few quick secs and I'll set you on the straight. Lissen, this is an idea I've been tossing around, see if it's tight enough for ya....

I figured we are all still the lil' boy and grrl that we've always been and the moment when we realize that we've grown up (call it the first game-sport that we miserably screwed up and lose it for the team, or the shit hits the fan and we realized that mom and pops ain't waiting in the wings going to tarzan-swoop us to safety, and we have to face the organ-grinder); we just realize how small and unprepared and how much we wanna hightail it outta there and cry our nuts off. the proverbial shit-storm... maybe you got a natty voice-over like that silly "Wonder Years" show (okay, for you kids who dunno what that was about, google it aiight?), but it basically is the moment when self talks to self:

"Self, this is bogus. This is a shit storm and I can't wait for the nappie patrol to come sop it up, it's me and the pile in my pants and we gotta 'deal' right now"

"Damn but I don't wanna clean up the shit, it's too hard!!"

"you gotta, Self, cuz no one's there for ya this time, it's about right to do it yourself"

Wham-Bham. Grown-up time.

But the funny thing is this... we don't magically become some one new. MOre often than not, we're still the thumb sucking toddly who still wants some one to clear our mess, but we know peeps are sick of doing that for us. they want us to do it for ourselves now.

That's when we start talking to ourselves and reasoning our situations. That's when we "grow-up" ... only that we didn't grow. We kinda mutated, we kinda split into two like an aemoeba inside our head. We have the Mr "potty trained" on one side, and we have Mr. "i crap my pants" on the other. It's 2 voices in our head(s).

This means that everytime we face a shit storm, Mr "I crap my pants" will be the first to be caught with his pants down. He surveys the situation, dies alittle & cries alot, and he splits up inside, and a new voice comes out to handle the situation, and basically becomes the pro-fixer for that brand of shit.

I know that when I go concrete surfing, it's "Mr Wheelies" on the job, until I sudden have to stop because of Pigs with sticks and sudden the "Artful Dodger" comes out and chill the vibe; wrappin the cool around me, going all pedestrian until the oinkherd passes by. Cuz' the survival tip that Arty Dodgie whisper's this: BIG SCARY trouble can sniff you out if you got fear leaking out of you, but when the other voce takes over, it's like they are in their natural element, the previous voice don't matter.

Samething with you boys and grrls, at home you're mommie's and daddie's little champs and princesses, outside you maybe the bad asses. Older Grumps will see you as the Newbs, and you got a voice for each of these echoing walls.

It's all well and good. Sometimes you maybe conscious and other times it's on instinct mode. But what happens when worlds collide? Suddenly you have mr "i crap in my pants" caught between two worlds, how do you deal? Normal peeps feel awkward and stuff, but how do you Be when one face slides off, to reveal another mask?

Or as my main babe, Siouxie, once canterizes:

"Face to Face-no telling lies
the masks they slide - to reveal a new disguise
You never can win - it's the state i'm in
this danger thrills and my conflict kills
they say follow your heart - follow it through
but how can you -when your'e split in two?"

And that's just for the "2 worlds in 1 space" motif... what happens when you have six? Do you crash? the caco-phony in your head will just about come across as a Carmen Burana freakin G(r)eek chorus, boys and grrls. FLaming roll of toilet paper launched against a dark inadequate sky full of sparkling faux pas like immovable constellations... that is until you move away... cuz it's always you that do the moving and not the constellation, you re(e)volve around the shit around you, not the other way.

So there, you see, you become this scary processor thing that has branches and sub-routines that can function independently on their own, even though their main objectives are to ironically maintain the cohesiveness of the original programme. crashing the site happens when you have too many sub-programmes flying all at once. And perhaps the only way is to reboot -- but there're no guarantees... you may just float in a limbo-coma.

Now one last pickle before I turn off the light:

Back to the constellation of faux-pases and the shit-storms... they occur in some universal interval... ticking off according to some jokster rhythmn -- do they find you like a gag-resultant bad pizza delivery or do you purposely seach them out and crash into them like suicidal moths and pyromaniacal bugs hell bent on self-immolation? I think we do. Cuz we are not meant to mutate like this, we freakin wanna kill that voice in our heads... but the paradox might be this, what happens if we don't die in that fire? What happen if a new voice phoe-nixing its damage control arse right out of the con-flag-a-ration? So we're not ending, but instead only not dying & mutating further?

Don't sell me that line about sincerity or nietzchean steamin'-bull-pie of what don't kill ya makes you more steroided, because we all do it. we don't know it but we all do it. We split like psychic aemoeba.

A bunch of grey programming sub-routines
or sub-route-tines
sub-ways-forks
under-way splits
hidden roads of the mind, boys and grrls.
wonder if i can surf that mental asphalt, and in the meantime the voce rides in a multi-aspectual reality, changing from an Ollie to a darkslide in midair.

Hey Guyz,

sup?

It's me again, 2AM, damn, I'm making this into a habit
and worse off, there's no white rabbit to make sense of it all for me. Nothing to follow except for this anaemic cursor always one letter away. Like chasing a dream, like chasing a word a vowel a sound, like a mirage always a tap away outta reach. And i ain't no astaire, I maybe okay on the stair master but this is something else rather.

My point?

I have no idea, just need to reconnect. I figured I haven't talk to her much. I mean what happens when you don't talk to your girlfriend right? Especially for such a long time... she's wearing my favourite grey wool sweater with the hoodie, the last button's alittle loose. I can never look away. It's her eyes man, her eyes.

She's so beautiful. Have you ever met anyone who doesn't have to say a thing, but in fact says it all? She knows what I am thinking, and every smile and ever pout, damn and every tear just stabs me where it hurts the most.

lol. They're playing Prado's "to Rococo rot"- 4 AM eternal... how's that for her talking back. Man, I missed her so much, and I feel like such an aRSE for not talkin to her earlier, believe it or not, I actually blew her off twice. Once, while I was walking to the Soopermarché for some foodie, the other time, I was working, and she was standing over my shoulder and does that whisper thing, and I said no, I can't put aside all that homework to go tumble with her on the page. I SUXX for a Bf, huh? She's here now, and we're talking, and I'm reaching over and sweeping a strand back from her face. Man, she's soooo beautiful. She gets more beautiful everyday.

I missed her so badly when she is not here, and I hurt so much now: even as I touch her I can't touch her. I can't date another girl, because I know there isn't anyone else like her. She never never will grow old and she just radiates y'know? Ilike her breath, and the way she moves but doesn't move. She doesn't judge me, she knows. Ah GAD, I'm such a lucky SOB, She knows I'm commited to her, heh.

Was out last nite really really late, she was watching me do ollies on the playground across from where I live. She was perched on the top of the slide while I was trying my movies on the See-Saw (how's that for a tense-shift in perception?). I did okay I think, heck it was pitch dark man, they've gotten so cheep on the streetlights. She was watching me, I told her it was no poetry in motion, but i knocked my shin on one of the ledges and i was screamin in pain. She was there, and thought it still hurts, she really set things in perspective for me: this is now. only now, and it too will pass.

pain
love
tears
laughter
fear
failure
success
it all passes
and she'll be making sure that I wrote it down.

Love you babe
truly
madly
deeply.

Seven dreams.
One for each day of the week
each a floating sonorous breath
and swimming in the sounds
echoes like a silver lense
sweeping across an argent mirror
a measured fold
across a poreless face
a dream
a breath
when pulses race

it's not so bad its beautiful
like a shroud of day and memories
hazy but concrete
you can feel
the passing and the pain
seven dreams for seven nights
seven breath and
seven sighs

and I am still falling
clinging on the velvet skeins
breathing thought bubbles
breathing in
never forever
never a while
seven dreams tempts a life
yes it's worth all that we have
it's worth the Now

Hey dudettes and dudettes:

If you think "swollen" was Bent ( har-har bad pun) wait till what I have for Frou-frou!! Guyz you NEED to get this CD ( Frou-Frou "Details"), it's so so awesome, and not just because it made it into that movie "garden State"...

Here are the lyrics, if you can't make 'em out in the movie


"Let Go" by Frou-frou (go to them: WWW.frou-frou.net)
-------------------------------------------
Drink up baby down
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing a tragedy
These mess-ups
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

It gains the more it gives
And then advances with the form
So, honey, back for more
Can't you see that all the stuff's essential?
Such boundless pleasure
We've no time for later
Now you can wait
You roll your eyes
We've twenty seconds to comply

So, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
------------------------------------------

I'm happy, I guess. People out there had it worst. I'm happy.
It could be worse, heck I could be worse. But why do I feel like shit sometimes?

Maybe I'm being weak now, but it's okay to want to have someone to come and hug me and tell me it's all alright and hold my hand and look into my eyes and fill me up with light so I can get through this valley of shadows, yeah?

Nah man, I'm happy. Had worse; this is a cakewalk... just missed and missing summer is all, and a truckload of deadlines snapping at my arse.

sweet dreams y'all.
>hug<

FHuck dudes, I'm alittle sad and alittle scared. It's Mondee nite and it's never good for me. When it shittes it comes in runs, yeah? Sorry about the nasty mental pic, but dudes, it's thaaat scarybad!

Firstly, it's the official end of summery 'fun': Tommorrah I go back to school. This summer's been nothing but work and work. I dunno what happened in the interim, I don't remember. There was alittle fun, but it felt like the sweetest honeyed nap-dreams of a sultry afternoon. I don't remember the sun as clear, I remember the magenta nights more, and I miss the sun even as it is not yet left. In street terms dudes, I have been schoolin' and workin' and phazing out of it. I need my moment in the sun before it's Fall. I'm scared that summer didn't say 'hi', and just waltz by. I can't stand feeling dumped by her: I CAN'T!

Secondly, the Honors paper is really really alot of life leeching work, don't get me wrong, I love what I am doing... just wondering why it has to hurt so much.... I had street burns and mat burns from concrete surfing and wrestling, but it's just hurt, you know? This feels like life bleedin'. I admit I did do some sort of crazie, I went and purposely got myself hurt, figured I'll go put things in perspective -- it didi and it didn't. My left knee's swollen and I can't flex my knee, so I walk with a swagger like peg-leg pete... freakin 'Pirates of Panzance' shite. I dunno, I need to put things in perspective. It's not only the intellectual language I need to use but the merging of Ancienne Français as well as the mordern Français as well as the Oxford English I am to write it all in. Don't get me wrong, I love my work, but it feels so hard sometimes and tiring.... Oh I fuckin hope Nietzche is right, what doesn't fuckin kill me better fuckin make me stronger, cuz I just got a scholarship for the MAsters Programme and it's just suppose to be this kinda intensity all the way.

Kiss me in the cold
Hold me tight in your light
summer coats in warm-wool sunset
I smell the camomile in your breath
and beeswax on your lips
when u kissed mine
I am dusted with asphalt and the salt in the breeze
rough and brine
and a red backward-baseball cap
and you kiss me
despite the ragged jeans
and my sweat damp T
gently carressing on my white shell choker
summer's honeyed tear is frosting into a coppery scene
scent like tears on barbed metal
estranged light
my board is propped in the narrow hall-
way amidst the calvacade of scattered shoes
sandals forlorned
for Van sneakers a step and a half away
Bikers still stubborn on the highway outside
grumbling past on thunder-loud speeds
chasing your skirts as you retreat from us all.

Man, I gotta kiss her before she goes
I can't wait six months before I see her again
I miss her
I love her
does she knows my heart's breaking?
My black cable knit sweater is calling,
like a cool drinking buddy holding out a shot of sours
"yeah fucks" like sour in the mouth and
then going down the throat burning bitter
arsonry in the stormach
spreads out a mesh of searing veins from the guts.

so, how do I hold my insides in,
when she's bent on tearing it all out?

Ho-LYEEE SHIITE Muslims!
Superstore's got a cheap sale on 9-plyers
and they are all under 30$.
Shitty graphics, but decent noses and all dat.

Hmmm... i am tempted...do I really need an extra ride?
DA'mn Damn Damn... I need monies
anybody got a job-offer?

LOL

anyways, I am just looking at the Ad, and it don't look too bad...
either that or save up for a new VCR ( I got the DVD playah-- DAMn what a gadget ho I must be...c'mon now... no abusive verbiage! Play nices little boys and girls!!! Besides, i find it cheaper to buy VCDs for foreign movies ( Japanese Gangsta-jin movies, and Hong Kong Wire-Fu movies!!! Oh Yeah, who can forget Korean Cannibalistic-Horror Flicks!!?? )

THey all ROXX!

For $6 bucks a pop, compared to some asinine Hollywood rentals that goes for about the same price...I get to keep mine and not beat the clock while bookin' it to renturn the friggy rentals ( gawd knows where those have been).

The VCR is for t.v....days when I am out and I need to record some shows I wanna watch...

Don't bloody begin with me about TiVo... dude, it's expensive; unless I metamorphosize into a Yuppie, daddy here can't afford no TiVos (yet). Besides, I don't think its avail in Maple-land here yet.

I am so over the cable and satellite BS:
I have a shitty GE hand-me-Downer TV, so no matter how great the reception, the radon-screen's not gonna do it justice. So Ixnay on that.

Anyways, it's all just techno-masturbation.
Get what you need...Actually, ppl with avg. needs don't need to have all those Hi-resolution stuff, to the human eye, it's all neglegible, it's all Hype.

There is a life out there, that's interative-heavy: better than any Nintendo X-box, Virtual Simulacra representative, Icon-clicking Avatar shit. Go out there, give a smile, give hug, give a fuckin' helping hand ( um let me rephrase that... "go help someone in need"... who knows what you horn-dawg's r thinkin and prolly would warp my words) I am so sick of ppl's pseudo voyeurism watch other lives thru your fucking 20" or 30" or 50" media peep-hole.

Free yourselfs dudes. there is no agency there, only the remote clicking that makes u think there is.
At least online, you get to vent your spleen, on the t.v. what do u do but get spoonfed neon images...I prefer the real thing, high philosophically pixelated reality, where when u bleed you bleed, not this BS suburban spiel.

So, I am waitin' to see you on the flip side:o)

YAYYY!!
They Fixed it!
They Fixed it!

Everything makes sense now!!!
You Guys at Blogger ROXX!

Good on y'all!
Kewl.....Thanx...

now;
what to write?

I like blogger, but there is alittle problem.
my older blogs don't appear!
shitzNrambles from early 1/2 of 2001 don't get recognized
how's that for ageism?

and this blogg ain't even retired yet!
life can be suxky
but what can ya do right?
just un pauve etudiant
frick if the system cares

nonetheless i'm here,
making my mark
pissing on corners
Saint J's hoisting up his wheels and gonna surf on this grey sea (of concrete)
why walk on water when u can surf, right?

nonetheless
Ikon and ironies
epistemic proof i got...check out my scraped knees and hands
want to see the proof of Passion on a christ-alized level?
i bleed, so hold up a grail
Le sangrea de Kristosl
sang-real buddy
I bleed for my transcendence.
(it's tradition, baby)

Quoth I a Valley-girl "high"

OHmiGAWDDD!

Just handed in my official essay.
Nice..................

so what now? yammering on the keyboards....
my shoulders are skittering, because of some peelage on them.
That's what happens when you kiss the sun for wayyy too long...

Kewl! Truckker TANs! Sleeveless Ts are nice, but the funny thing about them is that they have no shoulder-rags to wipe yer chill on, yup, look ma: no sleeves! I don't mind, it's the shirt-tail wag for me, but really, is that a ploy for the Calvin Kleins out there??

Okay, picture this (don't do it if you are easily turned on/off)

You have some cool trickling down your face, so what? down you swipe up the hem(p) of your T, and do a quick dab. okay. what shows?

Your FReakin Belt Zone, is what.
So if you are like them chillahs and playahs and gots yer pants sliding down past yer hips, then your undie is showing, and what do you read?
Calvin Kleins, Jockey, Joe Boxers , Tommy Hilfiger and What have yas...
And you do yer Kardio exercises just right, you might sport some abs, and suddenly the mid-riff is a signifier/signified for SEX, and the undies and the intimates et cetera et cetera...

some people call it unconscious flirting
some people call it wiping of sweat
some people call it gross

i call it "product placement".

damnit... Fucking Calvin Klein owes me at least a few grand for that kinda product placements, if you ask me. Is them more insidious than a Darth Lord of the Sith, hey?

but then again, the body is nothing more than an abstract site for advertise-ments... but at least billboards get rent monies, I don't. okay-okay, could be worst, i could be paying those undies... what?!
just cuz my aunt works at a Duty-Free place in a transit lounge, and gets good deals, you gonna rag on me?!

get in line baby.
heheheheheheheh

I actually am amused at the Superstore Ads and London Drugs ads that they throw at my door-step. It hit me quite suddenly -- the fact that I felt like a nameless john going to go a-whoring.

What?! you said... yeah, look at it this way... I was flipping to the kids' toys section of the two flyers and I found that they have these semi~utterly cheesy concrete surfboards on sale...that's 19.99 to 49.99... I mean, the graphics aren't that bad... buyt there is no sense of Personalization, right?

I went to town and went window drooling, and they have all these kick-arse rides but they are all so expensive -- like getting into a long term relationships and commitments( can we say "mortgage?") ... so suddenly, all these generic b(r)oards hanging by the aisles of those Consumer Bazaars ( okay, bizarres), suddenly felt... accessible...

(Cue: Belly dancers in the background, the exotic incense, and Middle eastern music)

I feel like I am in some ancient Arabic world somewhere between Constantinople and Bagdad, under the Ottaman empire, and all these purpled veiled women with khol-ringed eyes are trying to sell me a night of pleasures... yeap. those cheap concrete surf jobs are all there beckoning me.. they're saying "c'mon...take me fora ride, i'll guarantee a good time... i'm a nine-ply baby with good wheels.. and if we crash and I'm scrapped it's okay... it's only 29.99...i'm..economical"

before you come crashing down on my head and call me a misogynistic piece of sex-starved dick... don't. What I have just illustrated is the way how the sk8 culture have become so crass and commercialized, and there is no respect for the spirit of things.

I want passion and ecstacy that is prelude to a meaningful meditation, a conjugal consummation with the city and the neon and the techno-pulse of this Concrete Samsarah... I want to be ex-stasis-tic, to get some real Air.

I'm lookin' for love, baby... not a temporary high.
But tell me, who can afford true love nowadays?

sigh...

fuck it.
I'll ride the gulag of a public transportation, slum in the galleys with the wage-slaves.
Pigs with sticks on the banks of the downtown SUV rivers, all that tow and flow of cars and bikes...but I just wanna surf. No secret and lost lagoon... this is the tragic romance of embodied character.

Or as Cassius would've said:
Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

I just wish, somedays, y'know?

So what now?
Not sure, but maybe something real
my experiences ( for what's it worth)
and see where it goes,
I have to somehow filter all levels into it together,
everything
all levels of consciousness into one.
Oh boooy!

Hey, didn't say it would be easy.
But really how much of an exhibitionist am I??

ah well.....

Currently just got into a class with the famous Vancouver (West Coast Canada) Writer, Daphne Marlatt, and it is really swell.
I feel as if I am basically just bumming around Poetically,
not making a point, not saying anything important. So,
this class comes as a godsend.

Maybe it's time to figure out what I really wanna say.
But there is so much to say, and I am unsure as to where and when and how to start.

The clever word-twister and tinkerer with sentences have to figure out something worthy.
But all the worthy causes have been taken!
Racism, World-peace, Anti-War, Stop World hunger, and Corporate exploitation, etc etc...
Anything left unsaid?

I dunno.

What do you think?
If i say anything spiritual, it might be exclusive or how about anything dealing with sexuality and equality.
Oh there are tons of feminist and gay activists out there as is already

so what now?

Man, it gets tougher and tougher.
Who need a voice ? who need s to be heard?
Environmentalism's got a ton of Hollywoodsters giving spreeches too, so now what??

Yeah!!
Summer !
here's one of the classics... sorry folks, i just hadda!!!!

(Sing it in tune with the classic, okay?)

"Summertime
and the livin' is sleazy
pimps are pimpin'
and the junkies are High

Pimp-daddy's got a bitch
and your ma--
she's just looking
so hush
little playah
don't you cry"

"Probably Swollen" is a little mental buggery that happens quite often with me-- call it my fetishization with coherence, LOL! Nonetheless, this is an outtake of a popular beat by "Nail" Tolliday and Simon Mills... Their Bio's here(Click on: "Bent') --And, anyways, I kinda got alittle High on the voice... so here is my take on it, some parts of the original composition is so generically- fuxked up, so I just put my old two mental mitts together and spun out my version. Y'know if you think it's more poignant or sad or kewl or tripped-out... gimmie a shout abouts what ya think okay?

bodhisivatta@hotmail.com
(yesh! you doods and doodettes finally know where ich stay!)

without further adieu:
-------------------------


When you are here
With me there is
No peace-fuller sighs

Don’t need anything
Else to feel alive

You electrify
Me and I want
To be in your arms
For always

For Always
our love is
Stolen made off with
the quietest shade
of loud:

holds me
like a lantern
soft gestures
like a cloud

a cloud
With no tears where
you pass me by
like gray shadows slide
flash-showers that
whisper no goodbyes

to shape the cries
I deny
in me
that I still want to be
in your arms
for Always

For Always
our love is
Swollen
made of
The quietest shade
Of loud

and holds me
Burn lambent
Scored-textured
Like a doubt

A doubt.