machines

It is easy to get lost in the curling and coiling of heat rising… the gentle destruction beneath the plumage… drifting solo on the currents across pale blue skies… does not mean anything unless it happens to be your house that is the source… then it takes on a whole new meaning…

Reading smoke signals on the horizon out over the distant slate grey of cold waters… the spires and tower rise as a sea urchin clinging tenaciously to the shore line… tidal pools of people in transit rushing in and out along the chronometers pulls for here gravity, the moon, and god have no sway… the evil natured robots are programmed to destroy us… why do people say “I don’t have time” as they look at their wrist watches? They have nothing but time…

Good Times… Bad Times… Hard Times…

An appointment is an apartment of time allotted to specific use… predominately waste… an uneven scale leaning towards the grave leaving behind a trail of tears of regret… the knowledge that there was more… while I think of Nemesis once more… the missing and forgotten value of Universal Justice… or maybe the flavour of summer savory while running across a meadow… my butterscotch world runs slow without the adornment of the affectation of importance as the machines break down…

RE: Popcorn… a day spent in self awareness and exploration of the emotio0nal foundations of my own brand of humanity along with the comfort food and affections of friends is a form of salvation… in the mirror I see myself reflected back with questions… put on the stereo and let the music wash into my aches and pains…

Unit three thousand twenty one is warning
Makes a humming sound - when its circuits
Duplicate emotions - and a sense of coldness detaches
As it tries to comfort your sadness -

The Flaming Lips “One More Robot - Sympathy 3000-21”
Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots

Some of the time the answer is not as important as the asking…
the reaching and struggle is the prize…
the breaking free of the logical patterns and stepping into the rational…
that strange relevance of the question…

“How Do You Feel?”

As the dawn began to break - I had to surrender
The universe will have its way - to powerful to master
Oh-oh-oh-what is love and what is hate
And why does it matter - is to love just a waste
Why does it matter - oh - oh - ooh - ???

The Flaming Lips “In The Morning of the Magicians”
Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots

the popcorn

It is hot buttered (real) popcorn (organic) and it is not half bad… makes a great excuse too…

I’m sorry, I was eating popcorn…

I don’t get along with phones and so I never use them… that is a personal paranoia… but there is a phone here that flashes, it does not ring. In a modern technical society people don’t understand this… no, I can’t come to the phone, or really more accurately, I won’t come to the phone. I do get messages…

I like messages a lot… there is something about note writing that is a bit of a dying art. I have lovely stationary for sending notes too… and a nice pen to write them with. I like getting a well-written note as well… even more so when it too is on nice stationary. Yes, I keep them. I keep love letters too… old photographs etc…

I opened the box to place in a card I received announcing the death of a child. It came on official stationary and was likely printed out… could have been a form letter really… I half expected a request to donate more until I got to the attachment… there in shaky hand writing, in uncertain English and equally shaky French was scrawled a message from the dead child’s sister thanking me for all I had done in letting them go to school…

Oh my little angels, if there is anything Divine may there be mercy for you all.

I am eating popcorn since I have finished crying… but I don’t feel very good… but I shall cherish that note forever

eroticism

So my main writing site is missing in action… ain’t going to worry about that too much until I am given a reason to worry about it…

Instead I will talk about “Erotic” writing… which often is not “Erotic” very much. There are a million reasons for that and not a single one of them are very interesting… so really I am not going to talk about “Erotic” writing so much as “Erotic” writers…

Recently several people I know have decided (yes, they make a choice) to write what they consider to be erotic… and naturally they have asked me (oh so sweet and innocent) to read their erotic writing… and to comment upon it. Ok… so we can already see where this will go can’t we… something is steaming on the sidewalk ahead.

Should I be honest? Should I be supportive? Should I tell bold and tell obvious lies? Should I take a pill and put the “Do Not Disturb Sign” out? I didn’t do either because of the Uncertainty Principle… what are they really wanting from me… (I hope not masturbation.)

Here is the thing about eroticism… it exists but it is not universal… nor really all that natural either... it is very personal and prone to being poorly defined… think of it like a pineapple… we all know what it is, we all know what we think… but can you describe how it tastes properly so that some one who has never seen or tasted one will know what it is like? I find eroticism to fall into that area… like a pineapple, sweet and undefinable... just like Piet Hein said.

let it snow

There is a beauty in the cruelness of winter weather… the sharp cold wind, the snow and the ice… it runs along in the veins of the inhabitants as we make our way towards the elusive goal of hibernation… we don’t have haunted buildings as much as haunted weather… and possibly scenery.

Isn’t it always the way that you come across the most amazing sight and don’t have a camera? This effect goes beyond the bonds of mere coincidence and moves harshly into the realms of conspiracy… or not… much depends on you view point about the good graces of that which lies beyond the view… does the weather care about a car wreck?

Frozen hearts… that comes into the mind as the bindings come off and we step into the strange zone of the skiers… I board. Everything goes great until we talk about the slopes and the moves… I don’t shoosh… I SCREAM… it is all about showing off… there is nothing gentle about it… my time on the slope is not about powder and grace… it is about adrenaline…. So dude boy walks away with that look on his face… judgmental egoism doesn’t work huh?… girls just want to have fun.

Cultural clique burns through the great divide… slobbery snobbery calls out for the Great Napkin in the Sky to drop down and wipe… but the fact is that as the economy goes into the great swirlie people are getting more snobbish with less reason to be so… but with more intent than ever before…

Hey… it is just playing! Baby, it’s cold out there.

Ego Enlightenment

Yes… that is what it is all about… and not that overly simplistic crap that the popular media is responsible for… what a bunch of turkey butts follow popular media… I mean really herd mentality there bozo… and when you follow the herd you are walking in shit… just in case you did not know…

That also goes a long way to explaining why so many are turned away from my door too… I like nice rugs… not so fond of shit being traipsed all through the house…

So here we are… Ego Enlightenment… guess the first step is to adopt the Oriental view and ask people to take their shoes off at the door.


Ok… so I broke my own rule and went silent… and though I suspect that I should apologize the fact is that I do have a real life to attend to… but back again.