And one day we are done.

There was this survey. Not scientific, just man on the street kind of thing. After asking people about defense spending, and questions of ethics. The program came to the conclusion that we are understanding empathetic healing war-machines capable of mindless slaughter. They went on laughing at the contradiction, but it is not a contradiction that runs very deep. The two things are tied together, feeding into each other. Your compassion for one group is what will drive you to slaughter another. And it isn't by mistake. It is an emergent property of success. Because people who do this will be more successful, by protecting their kin, and removing all the other competition from the DNA pool. It only takes a few generations for people who feel at peace with this imbalance to start dominating an area. 

Our emotions are there to drive us to act. To convince ourselves of what needs to be done. It felt right. I did what I had to do. There was no avoiding it. 

Everything that happens often in many people is not there by mistake. Everything has its place, and in its place, a season.

Nosce Teipsum

I quote Hobbes a lot. 
Both the stuffed, and  Thomas kind.


In his work Leviathan he used the term Nosce Tipsum, read thyself, which has come to be reinterpreted in many different ways since, most commonly now as Know thyself. It can be traced back further to the Greek temple of Apollo, but I was not going to use Greek characters in the title of my post. 


I am a critic. A skeptic. I have been, and will be. I have known it for a long time, and it is something I have had to come to deal with. I am also sarcastic, but fuck any one who cannot handle that. I remember in high school I was called out by Eric for "judging people for what they think." At the time, I said "Well how else am I to judge them?" but I have since come to see his point. He was right, you cannot judge a person by what they have come to believe.  But instead of giving up being judgemental I just changed the parameters I used to critique people. And γνῶθι σεαυτόν sums it up rather well.


I can taste the anti biotics because the anti biotics are in my tongue. Within four hours I started to feel better. One of the pills is to calm the side effects of the other two pills, so that was likely why I felt so great. The first day I went to the beach and felt awesome. Now the anti biotics are in full swing and my system has crashed. That is by design, but whoooa. What a ride. The side effects, are strong. I have lost my memory, I have a fever, going to the bathroom a lot, and last night I literally dragged myself across the floor in a state of delirium trying to make it the toilet to puke. And then for fifteen minutes nothing comes up. Rather painful and unpleasant over all, but really it is not even half as bad as some night have been in the last three months. 


So I am really fucking sick, and feeling better than I have in months. It will be good to get the results of the biopsy, it is the last strand that yet hangs in the unknown. It might even come back saying I am a celiac. That would be nice. 


Remember kids, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and gives you a prescription for anti depressants, then it is very likely a duck. Quack Quack. I would also like to give a shout out to the councillor who told she could cure me just by talking with me if I accepted Jesus into my heart. I called you on being full of shit to your face, and now I feel even better about it. I hope something runs you over. 


So Yes. I am a little bitter about it all. It has been a long time, and I have seen doctors in three provinces about this and it took Dr.Keith four minutes to find out what is wrong. And while I was a little loopy at the time, I am fairly sure 90% of that time was getting the camera down my throat. But. It just might be over now. After sixteen years, it just might all be well. So lets hope they hurry along with the biopsy. The suspense is killing me. 

Not Canon

I went all out and got crackers. They were on sale, so I thought why not. It will break my soy fast, but I will keep an eye out for any reactions. I also got some Nut Thins, and a few larbars. Processed foods are expensive. Wow, it is only nine? It feels like midnight. I am ready for bed. Too much excitement for me. Feel like hell.

Drink more water.

Then more.

Then bed.

Ugh.

Wake now.

How much pain do I have to be in before I call for help? My kidneys really hurt last night and my urine had a oily film on top of it. Horray for slow death. Woke up early and felt alright, but stayed in bed until almost noon. Now I feel much better, but have yet to eat anything. Drinking lots of water, and a smoothy waits for me in the refrigerator.

Hours later.

Ended up eating a lot today. Bowl of stew, the smoothy, two cobs of corn, two eggs, a whole pile of spinach, a squash. Cheese. Hardly been out of bed twelve hours and i am ready for bed again. Went to the card shop today and spent some time beating a kid who literally had won a gold medal at the special Olympics earlier in the day at his favourite Civil war game. I would have felt bad beating him, but he wins all the time. It is the only game he ever plays.

I like competitive table top gaming a lot. I miss it considerably. And truth be told, if all works out for mexico next winter, I likely will end up selling my collection. They do not have a version of Warmachine translated to Spanish yet. And I did not do a spanish lesson today. Hom hum, try to get two done tomorrow... before the bbq. Got myself involved with a bbq tomorrow. Should be good to eat something cooked on coals.

Rattle snakes are a big problem out here. Who knew? I am not allowed out to a Ranch until i have some high hard boots. They sleep most of the winter, but you know, it is a fucking snake, and you do not really get a second chance once you are a bitten by one. So boots. Do not know if I could swing that. Some people have some really fancy boots here, but I have not noticed too many outlandish belt buckles.

Feels like i may have had too much to eat. Should be an interesting night. Drink more water.

Then bed.

Rinse and repeat.

Sort of.

A full day later.

Last night was bad. Really bad.

Then I went and ate too much at the bbq. It was all so very tasty, and in true texas style there was more meat than any number of people could have hoped to eat. I learned how to make mexican rice. Most people do not mind the taste of aspartame. It is something I simply cannot oblige. I tried not to be rude, and have a sip or two, but golly gee. Nasty stuff.

Tired, and sore. Horray.

A day later. I am a little worried as to how well my body handles red meat. I keep avoiding it on account of Oprah, and every time I do have it I concern myself with how it will come to pass. No issues to report however, indeed I feel better, and slept better than I had in a long time. Rice and meat.

Whooooyeah. Dominion. Alternate victory cards are always worth it. They might seem a little strange at first, but if there are even one or two cards that will help you max out on them, they are a gold mine. I am getting really good at the game, and if i had a dollar to spare, I would pick up another set of cards. I think Hinterland or Intrigue are next on the list. I guess I will have to see how much it costs to fly back to Canada. Gotta get card sleeves for them all as well. There is an online undead theme expansion that I want to copy out, but when i did the math for how much it costs to make my own cards, it came out to around a hundred dollars. Which could get me two full official sets. So I think I may just select out a few cards from it and replace my Chancellors and sticker over the blank cards.

My suitcase has torn itself apart. It did so just as I arrived in Dallas. The only thing that was lost was my ipod. Which makes me believe that some one pocketed it. The rip ran right round the whole zipper, so it is a little beyond repair. Which should make packing to go home an interesting adventure. I might have to ship some things home federal express style. It would be bogus to pay import tax on things i already own. Not sure how that would work.

Oh yeah... camping. The week after spring break I have a chance to go camping with some folks I have gotten to know here. Camping on the Golf of Mexico sounds like a pretty good idea. Maybe I will wait on dominion until I am working again. I hear Mexico can be really nice.

Tall

It seems that people all over the world love Dominion. No one I have ever shown it too wanted to stop playing after the first round. One of my friends here in town was over last night with his girl friend and we played three games. Then he showed up again today on his own for another two games. So it seems to do pretty well no matter where you go, makes me want to get another few sets of cards. Perhaps I will keep an eye on ebay. When i get the internet again.

I almost started playing Diplomacy again, but now that I would have to go to Starbucks for each round it no longer has much appeal. Did not sleep very well last night, well really i did not fall asleep until around ten am and did not wake up until three. Still, now at eleven I am almost ready for bed again. It is a hard life. So I cannot just lay and sleep. My guts need to be cradled a certain way or they start to get really sore. So I am stuck laying in one of two positions all night trying not to upset my torn up guts, which has now started to cause me back pain, as I am always laying on this one part of my back.

On the plus side, this chilli is damn tasty. It has only a soup bone to flavor the protein side of things, as i forgot the beans until it was half done. And beans take a while. So they will wait for some thing else. The corn was cut into five pieces and dropped cob and all into the brew, and will have to be done from now on. It shifts the focus for a while, is very tasty, and way faster than trying to skin it raw. So bonus to corn.

What do you make of this?

Behold, Latin.

After taking a few lessons on European Spanish I realized that I was barking up the wrong tree. I have now corrected my course. It seems to be going pretty well, but i get the impression our Latin American friends just chopped off a few letters from everything in the old Spanish.

Yeahhhhuck.
I ate too quickly. I was pretty hungry, and I guess i should have spent a little more time chewing. It has a noticeable effect. Le sigh. I have now had two people try and tell me that the reason I am sick is because I have not let the Lord into my heart. I really do not know how to deal with such people, as there is no reasoning with them. And they just do not give up. I do not care what you believe, any more than I care if a dog believes its master is the creator. I do not care. But they do. Like I am some sort of cancer that must be corrected lest i spread into their own minds. As if my lack of belief might some how make the world less whole, and their gods less real.

If only I could accept my life as a spiritual path, I would be well. Cured even. Surely it is not that my genetic code simply lacks the programming for the digestive enzymes responsible for digesting gluten. No no, it is a lack of god in my guts that has robbed me of my health, and if i could only see the light I could find my salvation. For god has never struck down any man of faith. Never left any soul in anguish unduly.

In the early 1900 it was believe among some of the intellectuals and philosophers that the religious life in America would not survive the fifties. They postulated that so much progress had been made in casting aside the old beliefs, and in proving the fallacies of the bible that no reasonable person could possibly believe in a omnipotent creator. Well we are hardly a reasonable lot.

I read an article recently on how it is now safer to be a homosexual in Texas than an atheist. Which is good for the homosexuals but rather troubling for we fatalists. Our fate, our reason. That we would deny a power over our lives, and doubt something after would be enough to be alienated us from our communities, and shunned by our own families. They had a good few horror stories in the article, and even as ardent as I am, I must admit I have smiled and played along in my time here. It is not polite to discus such things with people you have only just met, and when there seems to be a good half dozen of them rollicking along. Really? Rollicking is a word. Huh. I guess frolicking was too faggy.

Faggy is not a word. Urban dictionary disagrees. Seems it was used in the opening chapter of Catcher in the Rye. Oh Salinger, you were right. We do not deserve you. I wish i could concentrate long enough to write a book. Or do anything for that matter. Already midnight. What did you do friday? Oh I Stayed at home, ate some Mexican food, got sick and brushed up on my Spanish. Then I trolled around urban dictionary on my phone looking at words to make sure they were words. Because I never really had that great a grasp on English in the first place.

Or what is becoming of it.

What is it with baby boomers never answering a question? After not speaking to the land lady for a few weeks I sent her a text.
-When will you be here?
-I am actually painting my apartment.
-Sooooo march?
-Yup going to send invitations out to my close friends... we will celebrate march 17th i think it is a Saturday. Green day.

It is like they all have a conversation going on in their heads that they expect you to be in on. They understand what they are talking about, why is it confusing you? So I am left to assume she is going to be here a few days before the party she is planning, but I am assuming. Oh well. Old people be old.

And none of us seem to skilled at communicating. How often do you feel understood? How often is it, that you can speak and feel that the person who is listening to you understands what you are saying with out having to explain things over and over. My, is horrible with this, as he will insist to the point of yelling that he understands, often before you get to your point .Then if you ask him to explain the idea back to you, he will relinquish. Only to again insist he understands a moment later.

Not to say that no one understands. People who do are just rare, or perhaps it is just people who understand me are rare. Many people questioned my friendship with Tyler, but when we spoke, we communicated. It was effortless, even though we had vastly different world views, he understood. And i like to think I understood him as well. But you would have to ask him to be the judge of that. Things did fall apart at the end of it all. Like the clothing i wear. Holes grow in everywhere.

Doctor, doctor,
can you help me please,
all these pills and problems,
keep piling down on me.

I would like to go lay down and go to bed. I would like to sleep. But sitting upright, for whatever reason seems to take the pressure off, if only a little. I am still hungry, but do not dare to eat this late in the evening. I am out of hemp hearts, and peanut butter. So my morning smoothy is going to be a little short of meal replacement status. I am so tired of this. Like a prison there is no escape from. No date for dismissal. To sit and wait. To hope that tomorrow will not be as bad as today.

Hope. I hate hope. That it has become an ideal we aspire to is a testament to how weak our race has become. Hope, hope things get better. I do more than hope. Reading these meaningless journals, and search every corner of the internet for answers. Sustained on the dullest diet imaginable, having now cut soy and wheat. If it comes in a bag or a box, i do not eat it. No sugar, aside from berries and fruit. I take yoga classes to balance my mind and body, to steel my will against this nightmare of unending agony.

I have no hope. I have no need of it.
For there is no one to save me, no grace divine that will show me mercy.
I expect no quarter, for this fate, my fate, is of my own making.
It will be what I make of it.

NO CODE

I do not like the way this is progressing. I am in a better place than I was when I first arrived, but better is a long road away from good. Which is just great. My schedule now involves waking up between nine and noon, then going to bed some time between eight and midnight. Then a few hours later waking up in more pain than I can manage to sleep through, so I get up and come complain to you before making my way back to bed. Don't want to hear me complain? Why are you reading my blog?

I come here only to complain. For it is all there is in my mind to do. I understand that there are flee markets in the area that are the size of small neighbourhoods. If I can manage to get a alright deal on a flight for April, i think i am going to look into buying a super Nintendo. I would rather play mario kart than complain to you, i must confess. I am sure there is some benefit to getting this out of my head, but i am not convinced that this is doing anything more than making my pain more articulate.

Ugggh.

I slept last night, and even dreamed. Something I do not do often. It was even a pseudo sexual dream, which makes it stand out even further, as I have had fewer than a dozen such dreams in my life. Which I understand is something strange. I was feeling some what restored when I woke up, and dispite the heavy rain took off to pay rent. I had been waiting for a letter with another check, then I got ill, and then i realized it was getting late in the month. It is not polite to leave these things, even if one is sick. So I found an umbrella and made the five mile round trip. I had to stop twice on the way back to rest.

I am an old man. I have already come to this place where every day life is suffering. And I do suffer under it. I cannot lift my spear as I once did, and this bronze armour is now what cuts at my skin. I am to afraid to yet cast it aside, but to lost to do anything but head further down the tree line. The ocean back to the left of me, the forest ahead to the right. No rest with sleep, no time in relief.

I mean really, all the time? Does it have to be all the time? Can you not take, a few days off and just let me sleep? What would it take for you to just give me, a few days, after all the time in this last year? To sleep, and to dream. To get out from under this armour. To lay aside my spear.

And yet, I have already met some one who wants to open a business with me here. I find it strange that no matter where I go, I find people who want to get me involved in what ever they are working on. A record store, aimed at the hip hop crowd. It would do great do here, there is nothing like it going on. The idea would be shoes, records, paint, and space in the back to have shows. Setting the place up to be able to do it all would be costly, but I get the feeling it would do well. Even if the clientele would likely be well armed.

I was walking down to the library, when in the top left corner of my peripheral vision, I saw eyes. He saw me, and in the typical fashion I locked my gaze with his a rye smile on my face as I walked by when a shock hit me, “Wait! Don't stare at people in their homes! You have no idea if this is some glass head, or what!” I quickly looked away, but the eyes had moved away from the window and the body they belonged too opened the door and took two steps outside. I looked over my shoulder, as he stopped short, then quickly stepped back in through the door of the second story apartment. I did not look over my shoulder again until I was a good block down the road.

At least my brain seems to work working a little better today.

When I first started getting really bad... well no... when... fuck now that I think about it, I have always done little mental tests. Reading signs that I see every day to keep track of my declining vision. Seeing if can make 10,000 in ten minutes in supreme commander. Being able to write. Hardly scientific, but some measure of state. If you practice too much though, you just get good at beating the tests. Which is not the point. The point i have yet to figure out. It just seems to be tracking points on a downward spiral. Perhaps it is best to avoid getting to scientific on this one.

Fuck.

Fuck itty fuck fuck.

I am tired

but this eviscerated feeling will not fade.

Fuck. Fuck it awl.

All i wish. All i pray.

Is here with me. And here it stays.

Answers left in fingers tips,

prostrated for self

a vapid pursuer,

of this last angel,

Death and mercy,

to became one

and the same.

It is easy to be dark and depressing when you are sick with depression, and depressed on account of always being sick. Always being sick. For more than a year now, a year and a month rightly, i have waded in this murky pool. Blaaaah. And all i can feel is tired.

Mexico sounds like a good idea. I hope they take the necessary steps to secure the safety of their people. But first Merica needs to explore some market options for correction of the current drug problem. If it can stop caring about itself for a moment. The Americans will do the right thing, after all of the alternatives have been exhausted.

Twist and shout.

Ron Paul 2012

Oh rite yo.

Blaah.

Last night was not so bad, thanks in no small part to not eating anything yesterday. The two nights proceeding the last where rather uncomfortable in a whole new way. The pain was not intense, but it lasted all fucking night and into the next day. A low unrelenting feeling for two whole fucking nights. So now I feel rather drained as you do not really rest very well when your body has nothing to burn.

I cannot help but feel like I am buying snake oil when I buy probiotics. I understand the concept, I know how they are supposed to work, but the language they use in marketing such an items just set off so many bull shit alarms in my head that it is hard to stomach them. Still relief at this point can come at any cost it wishes to charge me. I am not really in any position to argue.

It has been raining the last three days. Not constantly, but there was a huge clapping thunder storm for a good few hours last night, lighting up the sky in vivid blue. People here will leave there dogs out side day and night, to bark and bark and bark. It does not bother me so much, but I have to wonder about the animals. There are a good number of dog missing posters up in the area, and well, never mind.

Wow. I have nothing to say.

I feel drained and empty.

Ugh.

What a life.

Free Internet

My smoothy does not have enough peanut butter in it. And the addition of cantaloupe did nothing to improve its texture. I think next time I will eat the slices on the side.

I found chocolate without soy in it, and have so far managed not to eat much more than two thirds of a bar per day since this discovery. My budget is very tight and extravagances in the way of things that taste good need to be limited lest i run aground before the end of the month. The peanut butter is helping, but I calculated that I have been spending nearly four dollars a day in hemp hearts for my smoothies. Protein in Texas is not cheap if you are not eating beef. I made collard wraps on Friday and thought that I had made it safely into a nights sleep, only to be rudely awaken just after midnight to what felt like my intestines being ripped in half. The sensation was localized within the newest area of my suffering, a small section that only recently started to give me trouble.

Since this particular kind of pain first started to surface nearly three years ago, it has slowly been extending back up towards my stomach, like a snake taking more and more into its maw. I can feel my sustenance moving into and out of the area, like a hand roughly scratching over an area you forgot had a scab. It is getting better now, better than it was a few months ago, but it can be hard to remember that in the middle of the night with tears streaming down ones face. It can be hard to remember anything.

When last I found myself out of love, I took Socrates advice and enveloped myself in tragedy. Listening over and over again to Romeo and Juliet the point that the whole of the play sat easily within my mind. It was good advice, and the pangs of loss soon left my heart free again to beat to its own rhythm. Now that I find myself in suffering I turn not to Shakespeare but to Nietzsche. That such a man ever lived is enough to bolster my spirits, and return the want for life to my being. I doubt that many people have that reaction to the philologist, thought I know I am not alone in it either.

We have much in common, and to read his story in his own words I cannot help but wonder if he was a celiac himself. His symptoms, and his remedies for these ills ring many bells all too familiar to my ears. The lose of sight, the gastrointestinal difficulties, the aversion to alcohol, and even his brief stint as a vegetarian all indicate that he too may have walked this path. Nietzsche however was ten fold the man that I am, (that is little surprise,) as his dealings with his illness, and the lessons he pulled out of this time far surpass anything I have been able to gain by it. Being ill his whole life seems to be what pushed him to his great heights, where I feel rather crushed by this all.

Bed time.

And I wake. I slept, but awoke exhausted. Drained of energy from the first moment of the day, I stumble out of bed and into the shower. I added more peanut butter to my smoothy and made my way down to Starbucks. I cannot wait to get the internet at the house, I am growing tired of these faces and substandard coffee. I am growing tired of a good many things.

I should have brought my paints. It would have been far more useful to my mind than the luggage i did bring with me. Perhaps I will invest in some water colours. It rained last night. First time in a month. It has dipped down to 11 degrees here for the first time and I found myself in need of pants and a sweater. Oh come on now Wagner, I need some class up in this bitch. It has been three days! Finish downloading. The bandwidth is better than I expected for the price of a coffee, and the plug in powering my little laptop must have cut into the proffit they are making off me, but I have noticed a few people here who do not even bother buying a drink. They just sit, and no one tells them to leave.

My mind is mud. So I go.

Spell check? I do not even proof read.

A man asked me if I knew where the other starbucks was located, and I told him that I did not know. He looked a little taken aback, and then thanked me for my honesty. We live in a world of pride bound liars, unwilling to even consider the possibility that there may be something beyond understanding. You should not have to thank me for my admission of ignorance. I remember when I was just out of highschool I got in an argument with a girl at a party. Suddenly I stopped, “Oh, yeah, no you are correct, I am wrong.” She grabbed me by both shoulders looked me directly in the eye and said, “What did you just say?” Confused, i repeated myself, “You are right?” Over come she thanked me again and again, saying that no one had ever capitulated before, even when they were clearly mistaken.

I do not want to live on this planet any more.

Oh thank the inner light,

Mandala yoga studio will be opening tomorrow.

Though if they are actually teaching any classes is something I have yet to discern. From what I understood of our conversation they do not have a licence to be open from the city just yet. I could hardly get past the spanglish, but I did come to understand that they would be open tomorrow until one. So I think I will just have to poke my head in and see what is going on.

After another close call, I have decided again to forgo the recommendations of my doctors and peers and stick with my fear of prescribed medication. Selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors are just too gross to think about, and many of the side effects listed were the symptoms I was hoping to escape. I think I would be better served by simply increasing my intake or precursors, and go back to taking 5HTP.

I got a letter from the city of McAllen asking me to trim the grass in the back alley. At first I was a little put off by such a request, until i went out back and saw what was growing. My first reaction was, “I hope there are no snakes in this grass,” and then I realized why the garbage men and thus the city may object to the long grass. Anything could have been hiding in there, and likely does from time to time.

Ugh. I am unwell. I think it is time for bed.

Few hours later

Well that did not work.

I feel like hell. I think I need to limit myself to eating in the morning. This is not working.

There is a story I had been putting off, for a few years now, but that I started working on recently. It is something I think about a lot, and that once finished is to stand as a final note on this symphony. A final punctuation point at the end of a sentence run on for too long. A way to organize myself, so as to have something to look back on and perhaps find some clarity in it all. Or just find what has always been there.

I doubt I am going to make it to the studio now, they are only going to be open for two hours and even if i fell asleep now I would likely sleep though it. A new month and I am worse than I have ever been. It is clear now that returning to Saskatchewan was a monumental failure of judgement on my part. I thought I was doing poorly when I left Vancouver, but I was in no way ready for the cliff i was about to walk off. Everything got worse, and just kept getting worse.

There are signs that things are getting better, but it is hard to keep that in mind when you are too tired to stand. In too much pain to sleep. No reprieve. No escape. Just that feeling like part of you is being torn from inside of you. Even when it is not there, it is. Even when the hours between are good and the fist loosens itself, it is never for long enough to recover. Just enough to remind you that this may well be hell. Since I arrived, i have had three normal bowel movements. I have slept through fewer than five nights.

They think all of the foxes in the Florida everglades are dead. Possum sightings are down more than ninety five percent. The result of a booming snake population brought in by pet stores, and released into the wild by our fellow man. It is a shame we are such senseless creatures. They tried to ban the import of more snakes, but the pet stores have lobbyists, and managed to have this list of banned animals cut in half. So while a few of the worst offenders are now illegal, you can still have your anaconda if you really would like one.

There are parts of the world where we share the top of the food chain with snakes. The local human population hunts and kills the snakes for food, but they themselves often fall victim to the coils. Some one is eaten by a tiger every other day on average. Mostly honey gathers.

To be so hungry, and so afraid to eat.

To close your eyes, and find to rest.

While time, takes its time.

Unwinding itself slowly.

It is all i can do,

when there is nothing to be done.

But wait. And wait. Knowing the worst will pass.

If you can just wait. Wait a little longer.

And it will all come to pass.

I think this was easier to deal with when I was going mad. It is insanity to sanely sit here. To be awake and aware with a clear mind. Made to realize ever pang, and twinge. With out any hope of an escape, but time. Time to promise its future. Far off in some place, away from here, away from this rotting flesh.

I wonder if I could start a trans-humanism religion. Based on the idea that we are just a middle step on the road to manifesting god, by building ourselves into the gods that aught to be. Capable of infinite life, infinite love and and unparallelled understanding. Unbound by our evolution, our programed desires for reproduction, uncoupled from the will to power, free to see the world, as we want to see it. Casting aside hate and envy. Sloth and pride. No longer motivated by our personal greed, but free to define our own new ideals of life.

The idea that we, as we are now will simply come to be compassionate loving beings is more than a little silly. It would have happened by now if it could happen at all. Not to say that it cannot be within the individual, but we as a people, as the whole of humanity are petty short sighted wretches. We live lives too short to gain any sort of perspective on this place. Our minds calcify far too quickly to learn the lessons that are needed to become the stewards this planet desperately needs. We need to become something more, the over man, further thinking, with a grasp that can see without pride or self satisfaction what this place is. And how best to maintain the life herein.

The early gods, were men. Pharaohs who walked the earth, living and breathing. The early Jews believed that Yahweh was a man, that would one day bring them earthly salvation. For this great experiment to continue, we must re-assume this ideal and allowe ourselves to become these gods. We have to change. Take our future into our own hands, and direct the next generations, imbue them with the power to see beyond the vistas we can only now glimpse. To give them the gifts our natural selection could not afford.

Do not mess with gods work? Do you still have your foreskin? Will you allow your son to keep his?

Or do you already believe that this intelligent design can be improved upon? Well let us see if we can take it to the next level. We are now on the cusp of this potential. To rewrite the whole code. To take this great work that has been building at a rate of about one bit a year, and in the mater of a life time come up with something wholly new. We are innocent enough in our current efforts. Cure the blind, cut the cancer.

What does it mean in the end? It means an end. An end to every single lineage of the human line. It means that every one alive today will soon have no living descendant. This is likely the end result of our great human experiment no matter how you would like to look at it. However it need not be the final punctuation point, but the start of a whole new chapter. A chapter written by the last of humanity to ensure a legacy does move forward. More capable, more understanding. Beyond human, beyond good or evil.

If I could take you, and make you twice as smart, would you still be you? Would you want to be? How much of yourself would you want to keep with you once you could see yourself from the next elevation? If you could forever free yourself from doubt, and understand inside and out, that you know nothing. And be okay with it. Would you keep your petty fears, and willing ignorance, not wanting to lose that which made you human? Or would you gladly cast them aside, and move on to the next vista, too see beyond the shadows of the cave.

I think I could start a religion.

Its too bad my guts hurt.

Charlie Brown

Uggggggh.

Well I should not be complaining. I slept through last night, even if it was not as long of a rest as I might have liked. Then today went by with only minor issues. Indeed, by the time I came home and finished a dinner of blended everything I felt as if i had energy to spare, as apposed to my usual drained and disconnected. So I switched on the treadmill and ran for seven minutes, then walked another three and a half. The machine told me I burned a hundred and thirty calories.

What strange times we live in. It also told me my heart rate, but I will be damned if I know what a good number for that. I feel a little like puking now, but I think I may start running every morning. I need to do something after all.

I have realized that I cannot do yoga out side of a class setting. I lack the discipline to move through the motions in any kind of helpful order. I just go right for my favourite positions and then get bored. It is also hard to be motivated to do anything when your guts hurt, which has been for over a year now. Have you ever had a stomach ache for a year? It is not too much fun.

I am realizing now that I really should have brought my pirate army with me, as apposed to my two painted armies. There are people who play locally, but I have yet to meet any of them. I could at least be painting.

No internet. Not much of anything really. I have exhausted my will to play any more games of Warcraft or Starcraft against the computers Ai, as I long ago mastered my build order and can now move through the motions with out much thought. In a few of the lower moments of my health I stooped low enough to stick some of the household DVDs into the machine.

I started with Inception, as I understand it has become something of a cultural staple. The new Matrix for the next generation. It did not turn out to be nearly as confusing as some of my peers had made it out to be, and I was a little disappointed that it came down to 'what is reality' but I did like that they left the question of Cobb open at the end.

I only made it a half an hour into the dark crystal. Do I actually like any of Jim Hensons work? I remember liking the Mumpets as a child, but I do not think I would want to sit and watch any of it every again. I Robot was horrible. Will Smiths character was horrible. I could not shake the feeling that they cast a black man for the irony alone. The story sucked, the acting sucked, they took one of my favourite books and they ruined it.

Troy is a fucking piece of shit. They spent the whole movie talking about how they want their names to live forever, and how fighting is the only path to ensure such longevity. We already know their names live forever, it is the future right now and we are still making a movie about these battles. You do not need to constantly remind me that these are old names. I know. But did you know Greece wasn't a desert back then? It was a tropical paradise. To look at the landscape in the movie you would be forgiven for wondering how this many people feed themselves. It was these wars, (and the glass industry) that turned Greece into the desert we know today. Why do all the buildings already look a thousand years old? Fuck. This is why i do not watch movies. How much CG did they use to make Brad Pitt look like a badass? Would it have broken the budget to make the place look like antiquity?

Then I watched Hero and I was reminded that film can be beautiful. Near perfect story telling, strong characters, all with out compromise. I nearly cried when Falling Snow took her life at the end. Ah, wonderful. So I went on to watch Princess Mononoke and was again quiet pleased. I was only a little surprised to see that it was Neil Gieman who did that adaptation to English. His language shines through the dialogue pretty clearly in a few places. Which is not a bad thing. Spirited Away was similarly pleasing, but I already knew that. Perhaps I just need to stick to Asian cinema. Or perhaps I will just go back to not watching anything. I think that is the more likely.

Blister on my toe. Well I guess i will not be running tomorrow after all. Oh skin. Why you gotta be like that? I did some yard work the other day and after only a few minutes I had worn a hole in my hand. How quickly I have gone all pink and soft. The tare proof leather that covered my flesh while i was still in the warehouse is now long gone. Oh well, it will not be too much longer now before the fire calloused mittens of my past return, with their black dotted burns.

I do not really like to think about it. Though I really cannot wait to get back to making things again. I should go out and get myself a brush and some black paint. I found a roll of butchers paper in the garage. It would be run to repaper the walls in my room and properly story board these ideas spread across so many note books. I never do any of this work online. But it is getting to the point where I should consider it.

Uugh, there goes my gut. Uuugh hello.

When the pain is not there, it can be hard to remember that I am ill at all. Ugh, what a reminder. It clears away and I feel light as a summers breeze. I want to dance across the lands and sing to the sun. When it comes, I can hardly do a thing. Like a fist gripping inside me, it takes every ounce of concentration just to speak. Every unnecessary moment is eschewed, only the most basic mechanical movements, the absolute minimum for what needs to be achieved. Which is very little when I feel like this.

I got a bunch of new underpants from the family this year, and I have not been able to wear any of it, as the bands around my waist is enough to cause much discomfort. So I stick to the old ones with hardly a band in them at all, or skip the whole deal and wear nothing at all. Which may yet get me in trouble, as all of my shorts are a good two or three sizes too big for me as well. I am three waist sizes smaller than I was in highschool. I do not know how heavy I am right now, as there is no scale in the house but last time I checked I was in the hundred and twenty five, hundred and thirty range. Which is where I was when I was in grade nine and weighed in for gym class. I would not be shocked if I was a little lower than that considering my diet of late.

You know, I think I am going to go lay down.

Eleven hours later.

Ugh. That was not helpful. It is now a new day, and i feel far less rested than I did when I went to sleep. I did not manage to sleep really, it was more like sitting on the edge of sleep. Never really falling, but remaining balanced between this place and that, that which would allow escape, a temporary reprieve.

My smoothy tastes nutty this morning, I am going through these hemp hearts far too quickly. At thirty one fifty a pound they are more than three time as expensive as rib eye steak. Which retails around nine fifty a pound locally. I do not think a steak smoothy would be very good, but I am going to quickly destroy my food budged if I cannot find another source of protein to blend into my diet. Maybe peanut butter. Hmm. That could work.

Cutting soy from my diet has had no notable effects as of yet, but I am not going back to it any time soon all the same. Between soy and gluten i have cut out more than eighty percent of the grocery stores selection from my consideration. Which is not that bad of a thing, most of these things are rather unhealthy things to be eating anyways.

It has started to rain. Well, I would hardly call it rain, but it the most precipitation i have seen since my arrival. Which is too bad, as many of the local birds hang out in the same spot most of the day, leaving stretches of the side walk inches deep in droppings. It is pretty gross. The birds are one of the things I really like about McAllen though. Waking up to the sound of them screaming back and forth at each other is something that has been sorely missing from my life these last few years. They have many different birds that I have never seen before, many with vibrant colours, and while I have not seen any myself I am told that parrots make their homes in the area.

The squirrels here are huge, and pretty funny. I cut the grass the other day, and left the cuttings to sit on the lawn. The squirrels then spent the next few hours running through the bunches of cut grass, grabbing at them and tossing them into the air looking for what ever might be hidden underneath.

Yup. Feelin like shit.

Worst

Vent,

release,

escape.

I have no idea what to do. I can hardly move. I cannot tell if it is my kidneys, or just my back muscles. When I was younger, I would be gripped with back and shoulder pain to accompany my chest pains. When I changed my diet, it vanished. Apart from the return of my mind, it was my greatest relief. Now the pain in my intestines is intense, but the contractions in my back muscles are far more debilitating.

This cannot be good for my mind, but I feel that I am dealing with it a lot better than I was when things first started to get really bad. All the suffering I endured over the years has hardened my resolved, and expanded my capacity to carry this new burden. I am sure that if it had simply started this badly that I would not have had it in me to endure.

Just over two weeks of being in the Rio Grande Valley I had my first bowl movement, fallowed by sixteen hours of the most debilitating pain I have ever been in. This would worry me more if I had not been vomiting so much. Any time I get too hot, I puke which does not bode well for the coming season. I am on a mostly liquid diet at the moment, but I am having a hard time finding a source of protein I can handle. I asked one of the employees at the grocery store if they carried hemp hearts, and she sent me to the valentines chocolate section.

I cannot think.

Drinking water gives me heart burn.

Three hours after eating anything I am rendered unable to move.

Lets try and think of something positive. I have seen three possums so far, one I fallowed for a block or two before it made its escape. The second went up a tree as soon as it saw me, and we stayed looking at each other for good while before I went on my way. The third was laid out on the side of the road. Poor guy.

What I really want to see is an armadillo. Since I arrived I have not made it more than 2.2 miles from the house, when I went to deposit a check at BoA. So I may have to extend my range before I see anything more interesting. I am have been lucky in many regards so far with this trip, I cannot drink the tap water, but there is a water store with a reverse osmosis machine sitting out front for twenty four hour service. Twenty five cents a gallon for water that doesn't smell like it came out of a pool.

The games store is only two blocks down the road, but I have only been well enough to visit three times so far, and I have yet to play a game with any one who was not once in, or actively involved in the military. I have been asked how I feel about being a visible minority here in McAllen, and I usually reply that it just like being in Vancouver. Winter Texans are rather looked down upon by the locals here. Much the same way the hooker hates the John, they know we bring in the bucks they just wish they had a little more respect.

Half the houses are empty. Half the store fronts are empty. But they are clearly building more all over the place. The whole area I am in is rather new. It used to be citrus trees until a frost came and killed most of the trees years back. At that point it would have cost too much to replant everything and wait the years it takes to bring production back online, so they paved the place and sold the land for real-estate developments.

Every one keeps honking at me. I think I would cut my hair shorter if I was getting out at all. I see many of the men tense up becoming notably uncomfortable just at the sight of me. My gut reaction when ever i see this is to make them even more uncomfortable, but I lack the energy and I am a little concerned with how many concield weapon permits they have issued locally, so I have settled on avoiding eye contact.

The three places that are listed as yoga centres by google have all gone out of business. I have only seen two women that looked like they may practice, and I almost went up to them to ask but going up to strangers, "Hey! Where do you do yoga?" is just a little socially inappropriate.

They have well over fifty brands, taking up more than thirty feet of shelf space, and only a single offering of organic yogurt with fewer than five ingredients. I spent half an hour reading labels. The FDA has noted no difference between cows treated with rBST and cows not treated with growth hormones. Well I do not care what you think FDA, I am not eating it. I also cut soy from my diet. Which brought my already limited choices down half again.

I feel like shit.

I am going to go.

They Keep Honking At Me

At first I was sure to be mistaken. Yet there was no one else around on foot or in traffic. Perhaps her hand had slipped? The second time however there was no mistaking it. The overabundance of face and fleshy limb protruding out the window howling a cat call with the other hand firmly planted on the horn. The women here are objectifying me. Little more than a week into my adventures on the boarder town of McAllen, it has now happened enough times that I am growing accustom.

However my appearance garners me a considerable amount of attention from both sexes. No one has hair like mine and I have to be in the bottom 0.1% of the populations body mass ratio. I took a picture of the passing post man while he was on his route, and ended up being questioned about what the hell I thought I was doing. But he was at least two hundred and fifty pounds and driving this little US postal service van right up to the mail boxes and dropping the letters off through his window. I guess he thought I was a terrorist on account of my strange looks and picture taking as I had to answer for my actions and explain that... well... in Canada the postal workers walk. He ended up laughing it off and talking to me for a while about the van and how awkward it is to go from a auto with the wheel on the right hand side of the chassis to his own car with the wheel on the left. Every one is very friendly, and no one has any issue trying to start a conversation with me.

Walking down one of the main roads past an out door car wash I noticed one of the workers call to another to point me out as I past. I turned to face him full on and started waving before he managed to spot me and when he did was completely perplexed as to why I was waving at him with a shit eating grin on my face. This happens often. I will catch half of a couple pointing me out to the other(s) and then do my best to be staring them down before they manage to make eye contact. I love to watch them freeze like a deer caught in head lights. Yes I know you turned to look at me, and I am staring right back at you.

I feel pretty good today considering.

The night before last set the bar for worst night of my life. I knew it was not going to go well and tried to go to bed early in the hopes of sleeping through it, but lacking my preferred method of distraction I found myself unable to ease my mind and lay wide awake for nearly fourteen hours hardly able to move. It felt like a full sized pencil was passing through my lower digestive system, as a whole new section of my guts lit up with white hot pain. In short contracted gasps I lay hardly able to breath, as the movement of my diaphragm placed nearly unbearable pressure of my digestive system. I never cry, or call out. It always seemed silly to me, even when there was some one around to hear me. So I lay still and wait, while my brain bangs on the inside of my skull begging for escape.

It is in these times that I miss my old friend the most, but it always surprises me how simply it slips from my mind. There is no underlying tug, or feeling of emptiness brought on by its absence. Indeed my brain has been far more demanding that I get Reddit back to feed its need for novelty than it has been for more familiar company. I have also found to my disappointment that my chronic fatigue is not linked to these rituals. I am just as exhausted as ever.

I miss you greatly, but it is 26 °C s here, and a full forty nine degrees colder back there.

So you know. Fuck all that.

McAllen Texas

I am in agony.

Not even my nightmares are this bad. For much of my life, my greatest fear had been a slow and drawn out death. Slowly crippled piece by piece until finally falling to a cascade failure. This fate of mine now, I fear is much worse. For this is not going to kill me.

Not directly at any rate. I am down to less than seven hundred calories a day and it is starting to show. I cannot sleep, and I am exhausted. It feels like my guts have not rested in months. The muscles in my back tense to the point of causing involuntary convulsions. Hardly able to stand I lay in child's position trying to take any extra pressure off my digestive system.

This all said, getting here was not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. The day before I left I ate twice as much as I would have normally, so that when i woke up in the morning I would get by on a half bowl of cornflakes. I would have ate more, but it was all i had left. It got me until the next morning when I had a half cup of fat free yogurt (yuck) and an apple. Aside from being weak, and starving I felt pretty good. It was on my third day when the hunger got too much and I baked chicken and potatoes that everything really started to get bad. I can still feel it moving through me, scraping along the tattered lining of my lower digestive system a full three days later.

I spent all of yesterday in bed, or the bathtub.
this is no life.
it is a nightmare.

Behind the wheel of Armageddon

Just a quick word.

I am in Vancouver, and yeah it is great, so any ways we are all just finishing eating a rather late meal around ten o clock, winding down and discussing important matters of the day. Every one is rather sleepy just lazing around the living room, Joel decided it was time to go and was getting his shoes on when Joss realizes that her truck is missing. Gathering on the front lawn to ponder just what the hell happened matt looks down the hill, “It is in the play ground.”

The Trouper II was parked on a hill, a rather steep one, from which it managed to come lose. Two hundred and fifty meters later it came back to a stop, but only after decimating a playground. On the way down the hill it managed to avoid street poles, parked cars, and thankfully anything (and any one) else. The police officer was laughing as much as any of us, and our best guesses put its velocity up to at least sixty kilometers at the point of impact. The path that it traveled to achieve such a perfect trajectory was a narrow one indeed. It should have hit any number of things on the way, but it amazingly avoided them all. Until jungle gym got in the way.

We took pictures as the tow truck pulled it out of the sand pit and over the foot and half wooden embankment which surrounds the play area. It would have been amazing to watch it vault itself over the wall and into the slide. The cacophony of glass and metal, and a sudden silence.

tenet Guilt

This is a well over a week ago now, but i bet he put three and four together. Also despite his stance I bet he felt bad about it. Even as the thinly coated vegetables slipped off the plate i bet there was a sliver of regret. It was a mistake. The new waiter made a mistake. One mistake. he order a stir fry that was meant for no one. It was a mistake. I took it downstairs as is the ritual, for an admission of guilt, this was a mistake.

The question then is of its fate. I asked if i could fix the situation, it was not after all my mistake. Rebuffed. "No, it is the principal of the situation." Even with the reinforcement of another fryer I could not save the fated. Principals. to Plastic. Not even composted. After two years I can no longer keep silent.

Sometimes we bring them beer, if it has been a rough night, or if the King gives his nod. I have also been known to play waiter to the morlock retuning diet coke in exchange for them not snarling at me, but insted... around me? It is a prison mentality in the lower level.

So the ruse. I had thought of this, before tonight but it had never really come up in any kind of meaningful way. And now every one was here! And thoes of you who know me, know i still relish an audiance, when i have my lines memorized. Enter stage right, turn facing down stage, step step step, eh, Suzy you want a coke?

Ofcourse

"Errrr, I am sorry." One heel, pivot pose, turn pour. "it is the principal of the matter." the glass empties into the sink. He says he does not understand. I told him, Yeah. I do not understand principals either.

For the rest of the night every subdeweller would not even look at me. And I smiled. Smiled and slowly walked back and forth across the stage.

I would love too.

I came in through the door, kicked off my shoes along with the assortment of other out dooring gear and remembered the clothing i put in the wash before I went to work. I ment to have it back in my room before setting out for the day, but was distracted when my mother came by for a visit, so it insted sat in the laundring room.

Returning I squinted through the windowed door as i fumbled with my key. the washer had been emptied, but I could not see where my pile of damp clothing could be hiding. The door swung open and the realization started to set it in. My basket has been moved to the top of the dryer, and my clothing inside of it dry. Inside the basket was a clipping from a magazine.

A woman holding a bouquet of balloons with the quote, "Something they will remember forever."

Neglect

Some times I feel like coming back. Like trying to have something to say again. But now here, I remember why i moved on in the first place. I have nothing to say.

One day you sit down read something older than coca-cola and realize there is nothing left to be written. So just rattle off what ever you like and sell it by the pound.

My wrist is fucked. My ankle too.

Not as badly though.

I was late. Not that it was going to be trouble, but I was in a hurry. I had decided to run home for my half hour of unpaid time to relieve my sobriety and was retuning as quickly as my effort would take me. I was coming towards my destination, the enclosed parkade(a safe place to lock a bike.) With the exception of the pressure doors that allow cars in and out, the only way in takes you into the main building, and through a maze of doors. So when I nearing the end of my effort, see a car just enter the lot, I know that my chance to save a few minutes is quickly vaporizing. The door is closing, it is sliding sideways, my heart races and my legs ache as they push ever last possible pound of torque into the gears. My mind desperately trying to push through the haze and calculate the two closing distances against the length of my handle bars, positive and negative flipping back and forth with each down turn of the crank. I can make it it, my mind tells me i can make it, but i cannot slow down. I cannot slow down at all. I am going, I am going very fast, and if the door closes too far i am now in no position to be stopping, i had a chance to not take the risk but now it is gone. The Door, The Distance, My Handle Bars. In one perfect moment all together. Both side of my handle bars hit, perfectly i pass through with no space to spare, directly i run into the parkade closing arm.

It is about a cars length in on the other side of the closing door, to stop cars from driving in with out taking a ticket. i think i hit the breaks. i don't think it mattered.

Another day.

I was at work, a coworker walks up to me, and greeting each other we slap hands. Then, as if was instinctual we both simultaneously clap our hands, then again as if it was some how meant to be, we slap hand again, clap, slap, clap, slap back and forth four or five times before i fell to the ground in hysterics.


Some Americans do not know what a parkade is.


BUehen

Folk Fest was Fun

Uehen says:
hello

So, we are no longer friends, you have proven yourself to be untrust worthy,
this was not your story to tell, you had no place telling it. you had agreed not to.
so you can go and fuck yourself.

I am going to do my best not to speak to you again. If you could please extend me the same courtesy, i would be extremely thankful.



I can be so dramatic.
And I can be sure to twist the knife,
If given the chance.


Why not?

So the team I am on won day two of the Team Elite Tournament. I am not so brash or irrational to call it my team. I shot a half dozen of my fellow human beings, and only got shot up three times. But i am far from one of the topperformers on the team. One of the times I was tagged out I was walking off the field and managed to end up in the middle of a paint fight. I dropped flat to the ground, but i still caught a few on the neck guard. The last game of the day was a tie. And it was the worst game of paintball every played. We had everything to lose, and nothing to gain, so there was no way in hell we were going to make a move. Our opposition on the other hand, had to win the game. Why they did not make a move is beyond reasoning to me. I do not care, we won! If they beat us, they would have won. It was supposed to be the game of the day! The big show down between the top two teams! They just sat there, in the far far back, (just as we were doing) and fired back and forth ateach other from far to far away. I had a paintball bounce off the top of my hair.

I never feel like writing.

I have nothing to say.

I have been going a happy nihilistic phase for the last year or so. A time in my life that i will refer to as my "white period," as to symbolize a black sheet of paper.

Well i guess i have been busy. There is always something to be done.

I just keep quiet.

Uehen

You better hold tight.

The Way

Hammer Time #4

It loaded! It loaded! The little mac that could, i knew you had it in you. i eat very little sugar. today i had a lot, and then the dope, the sugar crash, and the absense of any caffieen has resulted in me wanting to go tobed at the regular time, dispite having woken up at four pm. which was not bad for going to bed at seven thirty am. maybe i should have a nap. i did just break something pretty. maybe my coffee will be cool enough to drink when i wake up...

The nap was a bad idea. it is fricken freezing in here, and then i slept too long. Then I ordered more gas which will be getting here tomorrow, so i have no choice but to call in sick and blow through the last of this tank. My camera is ass, but i hope to have some pictures to post after the show so you can see what i have been up to. I suck at making bowls or at least the holes at the bottom of them. Unfortunate that it would be the focus of the whole piece where my tallent would lacked, but, the fucking things close, or strech, or are on the side, or it was heated funny and warps. If you do not get it right the first time, you have maybe a 25% chance of being able to fix it. 4
Then when you start running lines of colour all over the place you have to now worry about the clear glass between heating up twice as quickly, which will make things inflate irregularly, or if a small spot gets too hot and you have the pressure just a little to high, you get this thin balloon suddenly expand and shatter sending snow flakes of glass through the air. thats bad. the trick is being able to get everything up to the same viscosity so it expands evenly, but keeping it looking like an orb of glowing glass requires you to be spinning it with out shaking it with one hand while the other hand fumbles around for a reemer. My hands are covered in little white spots (a few black ones) where the skin is getting ready to fall off, and they are all super sensative to heat. which sucks. My years of avoiding labour class employment has done me little good as my hands are losing their baby softness to the hard leathery burnt cracks of a lampworking.

Less is more, more is less. If you need it to melt, get it hot enough to melt. Do not waste yourself with a flame that is taking its time, you will use less gas in the long run if you let go on the throttle. Do not let any one talk you into a two stud torch, you cannot use a foot peddle with them, so make sure it has at least four. I got a lot of really bad advice when i was starting. I do not like to mention names, but it was John at Phatty glass. Guy must have no fucking clue. I am not saying you should not order through them, just make sure you know what you want.

Well back to work.

Made something pretty, and decided to take a step back before going ahead, to avoid ruining it. Sure i am on a roll, but rolls end. So when i go back i will do something easy and then get back on it. Buy expensive colours. They look amazing and often times will make up for you lack of tallent, just by looking amazing. Cover in glass and set out to display! It annoys me that most seem more intrested in my scaps of glass than my work. I do have some pretty intresting looking bits of useless glass... when i have free o2 i will melt them all down to marbles, or strech the colour back out into rods. I want to get a mold to slump plates on. How much of this do you understand?

Some colours have to be worked out side of the fire. Which means you will spend four hours spinning that thing as fast as you can trying to build a coil or the thing is going to turn brown. These colours are ofcourse some of the nicest. Not all, but anything with the word Crayon in it is bad news.

Throw out your cell phone. (in a safe and responsible manner) Studies show the bees will not come home so long as your squakin, talkin, and killin your brain cells. Evidance is mountaining that our teenagers are going to go senile in their late twenties. Ring! Ring! Melanoma! Einstein once said that with out the bees, we humans would live no more than four years. Fucked upier, is the bees all leave never to return, but unlike normal abandon nests no other bees are showing up to raid. Perhaps it is because seventy percent of the bee population vanished, and there are no bees left to go out raiding. Maybe you should get rid of your cell phone. Do not believe me? Type bees into google news. Every one is poo pooing the whole thing because the cell phone industry is worth so much, you know the same reason you never hear reports on how cells cause canser. It is not because they do not cause cancer. It has long been known that bees start acting funny near electrical poles, and studies on their ablity to communcat have shown they have a sort of beesp.

Well back to work.

Well that was not very productive. It got rid of a lot of pieces, so there is more room in the kiln... you can always put it in thekiln, you cannot always take it out. So i am nearing the twenty four hour mark on my at the gallery odessy, and with only five hours of sleep and a dozen mocah under my belt i am glad to be nearing the end of this last tank. So that i am ready for the new tanks tomorrow. With a little luck i will show up and they will tell me i am fired. So i can get back to work.

I think you will like it.


Uehen

Down Payments or No Java, No Spell Check

It is two am, and i am on a semi planned over night stint at the gallery. I have enough pomegranet/pear/apple/blue berry juice (from concentrate) to last me well into the morning, as well as a half a packet of fudge, and several packets of instant mocha. I went to the store with the intent of buying some thing 'bad' to distract myself from work when it got to much, but had to stop myself from walking away with nutragrain bars. I arrived with the intent of working here for a while, then realized it was time for the last bus before it was time to stop playing with fire. I have to stop making marbles.

i just broke something pretty due to thermal shock (lack of experiance) so i decided to take a rest for a few moments to say hello. I have not been doing anything simple and easy in weeks, and as a result I have not compleat anything. it all keeps fucking up right at the end. Sometimes duing the very last step. lessons in zen. so i made a few colourful spoons to remind myself that i can indeed make something. I think I will stick with simple things for the next few hours.

I need more tools. Like a puffer, and an octaganal reemer. I am running low on my colour, and starting to bite into the samples, which sucks cuse i only have tiny bits of each sample, so any one colour will apper no more than twice. If i stretch it. Some of the colours need special treatment, like being heated, cooled, and then heated before they turn into a colour, and will most times look hazey grey until it is done, so you never really know what you are dealing with. Or it might be made with a special metal, and needs to be coated in clear or it will just boil and turn burnt (i did just find a pretty cool way to coat it tho.) Some need to be preheated. Some cannot be covered to thickly, or they will break out while in the kiln. It is colour!

I got my business cards monday, and they look pretty sweet. I wrote it all out with a marker, then got the lady to scan it and put it right on to the cards, so it looks i hand wrote each one of them. Trying to push the 'amature' look. The plan as it stands give them out hand by hand during the holy day, while every one is at the ledg. Should be like shooting a french man in the bushes. So long as it does not rain.

Work has been slow and crappy. I did just get a three dollar raise, but it would be really nice if i started getting fifty orders a week for twenty dollar spoons and could quit my job. I would not even need fifty. Most blowers who do orders for distributors are moving at least $10,000 at a time... which is any where from two to five hundred pipes. What do you want to do with your life? Blowing glass still sounds fun. It is just starting to sound like a lot of work. Because up to now has been a cake walk...

My torch is not big enough for some of the things i have been trying, which is sad. Because it is big, and the next step up costs twice as much as this one, and would use way the hell more gas. It was too hot, or it was too cold, but heat control is the most important part of this oppeation. It stuck, it will not stick, it slumped, it cracked, it is all an issue of heat control.

Well enough talk, more spinning.

Uehen

Keed Spills!

i worked ten hours today.
and it felt like summer as i walked to the bus
it was okay. it went by fast. i went for three half hour naps.
then i reset a whole room by myself really quickly, and just as i was finishing my boss walks in and is impressed and makes no question as to why he had not seen me in almost five hours. the day manager is retarded, but works really hard. and thus expects you to keep up. my shift started at six am so i got a free cab ride, as the bus does not start until six. This meant i was up at four thirty for a half hour shower of power. Wake and bakes are not wise. And cabs do not stop at Tim Horten's. But it seemed like it had to be done.

i wrote this yesterday.




the dull edges are rubbing against the bottom of my tongue. while in the shower i had considered going and sitting and talking with my room mates and their company, still up like me from the night before. perhaps the first sign that it was taking affect were these slanting thoughts of socialization, or perhaps i am just feeling lonely. i hesitated for a moment, but then knew. Now was the time, now was the time to get the keyboard. In an hour or so, i may not feel fit for anything of this sort, so i am taking action while the mood strikes me. twenty minutes. it is hard to tell.

i had to ask myself the question why, before realizing i had no real reason not to. Yesterday was plenty warm, and today is looking to be nice. Sure you have not really slept in a day, but you have been doing nothing but sleeping the last week anyway. i got one of those disgusting energy drinks... monster something... twas free... but I also have a nice selection of tasty treats like naan and red pepper hummus. Nectarines, oranges, two kinds of yogurt, tea... hmmm i need to get some honey. I am well stocked, at least a quarter here, and i am pretty sure i never finished that bowl from earlier. the paper is almost... no no it is still pretty papery, i guess i had just got used to how it was sitting. I do not want to eat or drink, tho i would like to do both, i do not want to touch the papery, or move it, or get it covered in OJ.

I remember a doctor in some American magazine recommend to anyone who wanted to know what it was like to take acid that they need only stay up for a few days, and they would start to hallucinate. So far the only feeling i am having is tired. I had a friend I was sure would meet his end, but he did it double fisted every night he would spend, clutched around a bottle, a bullet, a bong he would be blazing from dusk until dawn, and so on through out the day. until he met his lady friend; she got him to fly right, or at least get the death spiral out of his life, for he is still out there givin er every other fortnight. this of course is not the point. i remember thinking to myself the damage he could inflict on his body and still pass himself off as a somewhat capable human was amazing, i too should be able to suffer the rigors for a weekend.
Do not forget your drink in the freezer!

Now it is starting to feel like the first vibes of a mushroom trip. As your mind starts subtly changing the way it separated light into the different colours, your breathing becomes deep and regular. your mind eases out of its ability to focus, and into the realm of pleasant day dreams. I think about having to call work in a few hours to confirm that i need them to pick me up if they want me to work on Monday. then i have to call and leave a message for the gas company. I will have to try and call them while i am at work so they do not do anything drastic. I think i need my drink now. It has been forty minutes... how long does it take 500ml to go from room temp to exploding out of the can? these answers and more after i put on some pants.

No explode. Disappointing. also i converge on ideas as to where this topic should go. i will admit that we are now forty seven minutes into our adventure, and i think it is time to turn on the Newsom. It really is rather disgusting how much i enjoy listening to her album. I have managed to not listen to it every day... but i think that is more as i need a rest. It has now gotten to the point where i know it well enough to not really have to be listening to sing along in my head. But she is like a deep dark forest, the more interesting things are found the deeper you go, but the more likely you will end up lost.

AN HOUR AN D A HALF IN AND I HAVE THE CAPS LOCK ON.

i was texting people in CAPITOLS it seems. at seven am. suck on a stamp, fold over the envelope and send yourself on a trip, one way. So i sit here sipping my nasty, but other wise addictive sugar cannistar to be met with the exclamation of VITAMINS+ do people who drink this crap really think they are doing their body a favor? i limit my intake of these vile cannistars as staunchly as i limit my intake any other psychoactive. caffeine kills man!




Shortly after that writing was not really interesting. I had been planing on doing all ten, at once when it was nice out, but then decided i wanted to do it now. All ten would have likely changed my life, but with an already sore ankle, a chilly day, and what would have turned into a two and a half dayOdyssey. I took half of what was recommended for my time. Next time i will take four times as much. I can see how it could make people sit in the corner and scream about spiders, i can see why people called it religion in a pill when it was first being circulatedamongst the intelligentsia in Europe. I can see why it was so popular, and why it scared so many people who were not ready to understand.

It made me think about time, and how easily we get locked into a cycle system. The sun rises and falls for each day, the seven days make a week, our weeks make years, which are marked by four rotating seasons. Our birthdays come and we are suddenly reminded that we are not a cycle. Twenty three years old! Are you fucking kidding! I am going to be eight thousand five hundred days old in three hundred and twelve hours! We are finite beings, each day counts against our total. How do you plan on spending your time?

I am going to do some more acid.

Uehen