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THIS BLOG IS RATED WWW-MA.

Update 2020-12-16: (True sticky posts banned; click to read.) So, owing to the evolution of the internet, or at least my own approach to it,...

Friday, October 29, 2010

God is a concept by which we measure our pain.

—John Lennon

We've been studying Dante's Inferno in my class, and so, not unnaturally, religion is kind of a big topic on our minds of late. Well, long story short, this thought has occurred to me.....

God is a scapegoat.

If things never went wrong for us, we'd not have to blame anyone for those things. As it is, though, far be it for us to take responsibility. It must be the responsibility of someone or something that we cannot control or fix.

Think about it: if everything always went well, would you feel any need to attribute it to someone else? The existence of God in good times is an afterthought — a cover-up, if you will.

John Lennon had a rather mixed-up sense of politics and the like, but he nailed this one. Probably.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Why is it called "taking a $#!^"? We're not acquiring the stuff, we're getting rid of it!

Edit: I guess it's because the expression "giving a $#!^" was already taken....
It can hardly be a coincidence that the name "Feta" cheese so closely resembles the word "fetid".

Friday, October 22, 2010

So if the purpose of soap is to get things clean, how can it leave "scum"?

Monday, October 18, 2010

The central theme of the class I'm taking this semester is forgiveness. Meanwhile, my mother is still refusing to speak to me.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Cheshire Adams - So Far From Home (acoustic)

One take. Slight fade-out at the end and noises chopped off either end.



Your comments are welcome.


Woke up
Thought I'd have a nice cup of tea
Turned out
I'd no clue what lay before me
Whisked off
From my home before I could think
Not even granted
So much as a drink

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
But it seems this crazy universe
Will not leave me alone
And it pains me so to blindly sail
Into this vast unknown
In the face of all this rampant madness
So far from home

Shot at, insulted
Battered and bruised
Hung up and weary,
Dazed and confused
Wondering
If all this is really necessary
Crying out
For help with this load I must carry

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
But it seems this crazy universe
Will not leave me alone
And it pains me so to blindly sail
Into this vast unknown
In the face of all this rampant madness
So far from home

I'd like to know
Just what all this is for
Is this all there is
Or is there something more?
I'd like to make peace
Before I am through
If only I knew
What to do

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
Over desert sand and tundra
Soil and foam
But it eludes me still just like a
Dove that has flown
And I could probably find it again
If only I could get home

Woke up
Thought I'd have a nice cup of tea
Turned out
I'd no clue what lay before me
Still don't
But I know that it don't look good
I'd be
Right back in your arms if I could

And I try to find peace of mind.....

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Eruption Pending

Once again, I may use some "swear" words here. You've been warned.


I came to realize: as far as my own life goes, the present sucks, and the future holds all the promise of Lindsay Lohan claiming to enter rehab. So, that leaves....the past.

High school, naturally. A time and place where I felt at home. Loved. I wasn't all that actively social at the time, something they attribute to Asperger's Syndrome (also their chosen explanation for why I feel like my home planet has much longer days and years than this one), but, by golly, I was kind, smart (then), full of friendly vibes and jokes. Nary an unkind word was said to me.

In the past.....I don't know how long.....weeks? months?, I've seen two or three familiar faces for about a minute at a time, maybe longer if we're on the bus. (People at my old job at the text conversion office, it's nothing personal; I dig you, but I haven't been feeling like I've been meant to be there. Only today did I finally convert a document after who knows how long.) The rest of the time, as I think I mentioned here earlier this semester, I've been feeling like a spectre in a sea of unfamiliar, basically indistinguishable faces bathing in cell phones and headphones. I especially feel it when I get out on the quad and jam on my acoustic. Headphones and cell phones. People may physically be there, but they might as well not be. It's like the old iPod commercials. Completely black shadows of people in headphones. No actual people. Just shadows.

I got no drive and no recognizable future. I already dropped one class this semester for a failure to get along with the professor (first time that's been the reason). I've wanted to leave academia altogether for a few years now, but then I won't have my text conversion job, because I have to be a student to work there for some reason. I've been all over Craigslist and other classifieds outlets, but nothing's appealed to me. I'm cat-less and dessert-less, though I haven't been that hungry the past few days anyhow, my traditional sense of humor seems to be largely slipped away, and, some hours ago as I lay kind of three-quarters asleep, my mother.....my proudly white suburban American mother, making it clear that she, too, has more or less hit a breaking point, proclaimed as loudly as possible that she hates me. (Talking to my father: "I HATE HIM, AND I HATE YOU!!")

So, that's the bag I'm in. I'm willing, but I'm having trouble finding my ability. I keep having ideas for songs and then never get around to fully writing them. I equate success with happiness and consider them independent of social class or anything like that. Either way, I am not successful right now.

I'm just kind of here. I'm around. Around, in a square hole. Or sticking awkwardly out of it, because I don't fit. And so I'm here. I'm here. I am here. I....am.....



GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! I'M SO ALONE! WHERE IS EVERYBODY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH.......


*collapses in a heap of incoherence*

Friday, October 8, 2010

Found this in a drawer

Let me know if you can't read the sticker on the back, 'cause that's the reason I post this here.



Anyone else have that dream where you still remember the combination to one of your high school lockers, and you open it, and your stuff is still there, even though you're well aware that you're years beyond graduation? Lucky I don't actually remember any of my combinations.


Hmm, Firefox is telling me that "combinations" isn't a word. Odd. It's certainly not "combinatia."