What the Weeds?

The wonder is that no one has realized that the clouds are out but the sun has been shining the whole time. I think it lends itself to show that when we go forward with our eyes on the goal we often miss that the goal is not all that is around. Take bowling for example. Sure you can get a strike every time. But what about the lights? Or the crazy disco music? Or the the nappy shoes to say nothing of the seats that only swing the wrong way. Ok... so you get the goal. But do you miss the point? Are you losing in getting what you wanted? Or are you just putting off the fact that the more you distract yourself the better you feel? So a couple of days ago I was biking around town when my tire blew out. That was cool. Have you ever had that happen to you? ...No; have you ever dreamed that that might happen to you? And as you are answering no, I ask yourself why that might be? Don't tell me it's convenience or time or pride or fortitude. I don't believe it. It goes back to that dang sun behind those smashing clouds. Diffuse lighting my friends. Diffuse lighting.

Elimination

You ever done something stupid? You ever wondered if you could do it again? You ever thought that maybe there's room in your head for one more? You ever been reminded that some lines shouldn't be crossed? You ever wondered where a line was? You ever watched as something quite quantifiable became something subjective? You ever wondered why mortality is inevitable in all things? You ever reasoned with yourself that if again you sat down a second the next mightn't come? You ever retaliated to kindness? You ever abandoned the wanton? You ever brought in the fish? You ever noticed a cat and found that it was on the other side of the road? You ever hunkered down when the sun came? You ever made a snowman in shorts? You ever burned down more than a house? You ever seen it coming? You ever then actually dodged it? You ever just taken it? ...Lights out eh?

The Realm of Possibilities

And now is time that has been set apart from before the foundations to come forward and tell everyone something they didn't know. Could it be that I have one hundred dollars in my pocket in denominations of fives, twenties, ones and a two? Maybe you'll think that its that I happen to be the second northeasterner to ever swallow a half baked banana while smoking a fish. The list could continue you know. It happens to be what I'm doing on Friday night. The possibilities are almost endless. Almost. There are a few things I wouldn't be doing on Friday. Fishing for beavers? Not likely. But the fact happens to be that I happen to be studying that night. That's it? Yep. So you might have guessed it, but just ask yourself... did you really know that?

Oh the Botulism!

Debauchery. Treachery. Defamity. Confederacy. Gratuitition. Wanton disregard. Malcontent. Illrepose. Flagrant unsobriety. Tenacious corruption. Arrant recreancy. Defection. Malignant intent. Insidious grift. Wholesale duplicity. Perfidiousness. With friends like these...

Unoriginality in Droves

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What's Yours?

So the start of it came when this guy asked me what and of who's concern was it that I go to and find out when I'm going to be about and finding mine. Well I says soon. Like now. Actually mine's been found and if I keep looking word has it that that too will be lost. So in conjunction of such thoughts comes to forsight the non-claristic nature of the divinings and the sootheries of today. Fro they say! And to what point? Agast and driven is all that becomes. Like a fish out of water or some other rather blufferied globbottenry. Shant to the left and leave the rows of hedgerows in the column in which they choose to stand, for moving them is a kin to a bear on the water which when it treads does so with ever increasing quickness that to the unlearned and unbewondered eye there comes not a fly nor a whip to the sight. And such is not caught but is thrown to the wind. Wherever that may come or go. But to no loss, for such comes only as I please. And I please not. Not today.

What's My Motivation?

Now there are days, and there are nights. But the times in between?... Those are what dreams are made out of. The question is what color was your last? Think about it for a second, turn
π/2 radians for each letter in your answer, step forward three spaces in that direction, if impeded by some foreign object, deport it. If undeportable, think of the first name of the first chicken you ate and while thinking, strafe in the direction known to you as left. If you are apprehended again before recollection sets in, pause, look up, and grab the nearest grabbable in the vicinity. Just hold on to that for a second. Now as for those who were not so unfortunate as to be hindered in their forward progress, call out the name of what you were last injuncted to think of and while doing so bow. Use your legs to keep the back from strain. If assistance is needed, grab the nearest low lying object. Curl your body around toward it. Keep holding.

If You Aren't Bleeding...

Psychoanalysts say it's gluttony for pain. Biologists think of deleterious point mutations. Chemists think some enzymes aren't binding. Material scientists can't understand why more things aren't fractured. Electrical engineers know a wire is crossed somewhere. The Mechanical Engineers say there are loose screws. Choreographers say there's no grace. And the English majors think it's lack of culture. They always go for that one.

Exfoliants in the eyes. Silicas in the nose. Abrasives covering the skin. Dust in the lungs. Maybe in the occasional Q-tip in your face. ...ok, that one was inexcusable. Is nothing sacred?!... But to become one with Terra-Somewhat-Firma? That my friends is pure joy. Eat it. Drink it. Don it. Sleep it. And bless the Faithful Departed who made it possible once again.

State of Empondermentationalism

What would happen if you could never manage to stand on the right side of a picture?

When the water comes in from the sea and washes up to your feet you think it's nice... would it be if the sea was made of mercury? Nice?... ...how about bromine?

What if you could stand to walk at the speed of 2.3 E -34 m/s... would people have a hard time trying to find your exact position?

Everyone loves three day weekends so why don't we make the week 8 days long instead of 7?

In space they run a 26 hour day, why don't we make life more interesting and do that here on earth?

How does one get off this thing?

If it hurts to look at someone does that mean you like them?

Don't your eyes hurt when you look at the sun?

Why when we are asked which drops faster in a vacuum, a feather or a bowling ball, and we answer a bowling ball, are we told we are wrong when in fact we are right?

Why do we not use the write-in line on the ballot?

Does anybody else want to get in the car so fast that they often close the door on their leg?

Is it really wrong to keep walking and not even turn around?

Why don't Santa's reindeer burrow instead of fly?

Why won't my arms move?

Do you ever find yourself walking, thinking someone is following you only to turn around and see me there?

Is stalking really that bad?

If escape velocity is the velocity reached by an object when dropped to another from infinity and we know that not even something traveling at the speed of light can escape a black hole, why does that not also mean that something entering a black hole is exceeding the speed of light?

If an oscillating crystal can at the same time have a finite and infinite wavelength along the same vector, why can we not also claim that it has no wavelength?

But if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares.... why does he keep doing it?

Just how does one get to?

...Swimmingly.

It is common knowledge that any fool likes the rain... it's just that some fools haven't properly graduated through a good aging process.
...like natural selection.

It is a given that one can find his own enjoyment in life. The problem is that other people might see him as such. The world is peopled of fools. Let the world beware.

Clarion Call to the Master of Spain

The years were dark, the lines were long
We tried to fight but that went wrong
We tried the doors and all the locks
We'd break the glass with bags of rocks
If but we could get us outside
To grab some rocks to save our hide

Through hours long and months of mull
Our will to leave was turned to wool
We couldn't dance or sing about
We couldn't dream, for we'd run out,
Of dreams that is, all wasted on
Attempts to git, and git long gone
So on we'd dream of nicer days
When panes blocked not the UV rays
Why can't I run or hide from sight
Why can't the fan blades lift my kite?
Why can't the walls let starlight through?
Why can't we keep our dreams in view?
Cause every time we try to dream
A ripple comes across the seam
Where sheets of rock are plastered sound
To keep in lies, to keep us bound
And washes out the thoughts come in
And tides across our taste of sin
"For what you seek's not right" walls boom
As amens echo through the rooms
We know it too, the way's unseen
And what is hid can't well be clean
And so our glance returns again
To what it ever would have been
Not bright or drunk, not wild and scared
Not gleed or stout, not ill prepared
Not anxious, pond'rous, nor composed
Not jubilant or juxtaposed
By friend or foe nor love or lie
No will to live nor yet to die
And on we'd shrink...

If not per course of the course laid
Which had its path across ours played
For up out of the cracks some day
There'd come a chance to get away
The way is dark and China bound
Yet it's far better in the ground
The earth's not stale nor eats the soul
As Nothing does if in control
And though the way's now darker still
At least I feel and have a will
A will to do whate're I like
To stand on desks or throw a pike
To burn a town, to save a fox
To give another bags of rocks
Though tough in what I'm crawling through
Still all's what I decide to do.

Retardant for Bombs in the Mail

So it seems of late that the where-abouts and why-to-for's of an certain someone have been much discussed over dinners, which ought to have thus been rendered superfluously tasty, as well as carnivals and candied yams which on inspection seals the fate of those who in their causality have degradated the only hope of re-supply to the said person who under no distress of his own has sought for the auspices of those who sought his ...and in so doing has found himself the master of his own universe, small as it may be, which however small is still his own , minus the fact that it is in desperate need of previsions in seasons needy and often dire yet not allayed, as things go inside a hole, but to so allay worry over or distress toward said subjects it is in the mind of the editor in joint to console and thus reconstitute the inconstituents of the foregoing considerations and to command their attentions to the stop signs ahead of their own path that perhaps and so by chance they may not in their cross travels over-traverse and thus extinguish the unsuspecting passer-by except in conditions where such happenings have chance to create and build up as in a non-elastic collision and both parties ever after go forward in one heart and one mind as these are the sincere and unadulterated desires of the afore-mentioned, who by the way has a home. In truth. I enjoy this hole.

Foreshadowment

...because I can.