2005, Tucked into the Annals of History

I did an entry like this a year ago, only it was 2004. I never mean to sound prophetic, but a lot of what I thought would happen ended up coming to pass. I'm hoping the world has seen the worst of it though. Because if this is the worst, then we'll survive.

Looking back on this year, as trite as it sounds, it just makes me want to never look back on this year again. But I probably will, because even amidst the horror, there's been some lessons learned, and even amongst the most terrible outcomes, there were good things that happened. I've made some new friends this year, and I've let some old ones go. That's the way of time.

I've given up some old habits, and I've taken up some new ones. Playing the guitar being the most addicting one right at the moment, but that's just me. I've found myself, in a sense. Or pieces of myself, which are nonetheless critical to me developing as a person on the whole.

I've given up the mob. Like a lot of people, I just couldn't stand the social scene. Some of you are probably wondering, I never really got into it in the first place. That is true. Like Tesla, I've become kind of a harmless eccentric, withdrawn from society, but at the same time, painfully aware of it.

Political ranting, as everyone may have noticed, has been reduced to a bare minimum as compared to my earlier days. The days of civil debate are over anyway. 2006 will be a continuation of 2005 where Liberal is a dirty word, and one side of the debate will always attempt to shut the other down, rather than listening to the varying opinions of others.

I'm rambling again. I apologize.

Too much talk about me. Now, for you. There have been many new visitors to my blog this year. I can only wish that you have felt either one of two things when you visit here. Either A) Entertained, or B) Enlightened in some way. I hope to continue writing this little... saga, as long as possible, with it being a combination of my fascination with public writing, and also my outlet for when things are either bugging or entertaining me.

Things I have contemplated adding to this blog include sound clips from my infrequent jam sessions on the guitar, regular (three times a week) photos and illustrations, or perhaps something along the lines of a podcast, etc. I'd say I have options on the table, but I actually have no table, and I'm just pitching ideas out of my ass right now.

Now, for my bit of vague prophecy for the next year...
It's very likely that 2006 will be the uphill haul from the black hole of 2005. People will wake up and realize that they've just spent an entire year fucking around, and nothing has actually been done. I think there will be a major shakedown in both Canada and the U.S. with regards to the government.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that sometime in the coming year, there will be a period where nobody will hear from me. Normally, I leave all the lines open, but 2006 will be a time for cutting free. And by cutting free, I mean filing that cell phone over the side of a bridge and never looking back.

Happy New Year, and I hope everyone enjoys their over-promoted leap-second.

Time, for flying rockets, for silver jets, for surfing boats.
Surfing on a Rocket...

Breathtaking

You'll have to excuse me for being a little less than surprised by this.

Rotten people are still rotten, regardless if they are of the government, of the people, or of the cloth. It doesn't matter. This is just further proof that organizations that preach an "open door" are just a facade on the same old rejection. Difference is still different, and some people are afraid of that.

Am I angry? Yes. But that's my business. I just really feel for the people who set out to find God, and instead met the politics of the Church. Humanity is cruel. Religion is born of humanity.

Voluntary Unconsciousness

It's okay to be envious.



Sarge sleeps most of the day. At least, when he's not chasing squirrels, going for walks, or trying to mooch cheese off unsuspecting family.

Sleep is something we could all use a lot more of. Stress, something a lot less.

I could also do for some snow, and less sunlight, especially when it's in my eyes, and I'm driving. Mind me, there's a 50/50 chance that the guy I almost greased today deserved it. In my defense, he was completely oblivious to everything, including the fact that I had almost hit him.

Near-tragedy is never as acute as post-tragedy. Thank God my reflexes were with me today.

*Click*

Sit down, don't blink. A tiny flash, and suddenly you're immortal.

It's not a Hasselblad, but it works.

Yes. That's right. That is a picture. No, I haven't forgotten about you. I know how you all like pictures. They're easier to read than words. Well, most of the time.

In any event, more pictures should be forthcoming, depending on my schedule. Hopefully, the more stylistic, the better. Still haven't figured out what to do with all that extra space on the sides, but I'm sure that will come.

Midnight Haunted

I had a nightmare last night that greatly disturbed me.

There was a man, the icon of masculine beauty. He was adorned in the finest white silks, and he wore angel-feather sleeves. His boots were of gold and silk, and he talked in tongues that made people bow and obey. He was wreathed in an aura of gold that was painful to look at.

We were all there standing before this... thing. He spoke to us, and we all listened. Well, you all listened. I heard the honeyed words, and knew immediately, something was not right. He was building up to something. His fluid, fluttering words became gutteral and clear to me. This was an illusion that everyone was enraptured in. He spoke and you all listened. He ordered and you all obeyed.

And then he said it.
Bow to me. I am your master. I am your lord. I am your beginning and your end.

With that, the illusion shattered before me. Even as all of your knees and foreheads touched the ground, I saw this monstrocity for what he really was.

The angel-wing sleeves were whole angel wings, ripped from the innocent bodies of their bearers. The golden aura was a circle of fire and blood, twisting and twining around the man. His white silks and shoes were covered with blood, and his eyes were windows to terror itself.

I alone was still standing to recognize this monster. I knew the evil that stirred in that bloodstained body, and I knew it recognized me right away.

I knew how it worked. I knew that I would have to rise up to that monster and fight it. But I knew that it would never stain it's hands - those procelain hands - with the dirt of having to deal with me.

No. With a word, you all descended on me. And I awoke.
It's hard to see allies when you know that everyone is human, and only the right words, appearance, and tone are required to take them completely. All I have to offer is the truth, and that has won no wars and made me no friends.

Paranoia, paranoia everyone's coming to get me...

I've been here before

Deja vu, and before I know it, I'm awake.

I was out late, hanging with my friends. Driving home. It's cold out, and the fog over the city got too cold. It became a cloud of frost. The streets were glittering like black jewels. I was the only car out there, my headlights were the only light besides the streetlights last night. The clouds were dark and close, and kidnapped errant rays of light.

There was no sound. The sleek pavements met and departed from tires without protest, and only the modest purr of my underwhelming beast of burden spoiled the silence of the night.

Home led to sleep. Dreams of dreaming about nice things. Things that don't exist in the real world. Illusions that make me feel warm and safe. A temporary escape from the paranoia.

Waking up, it's deja vu. I've been here before. I've done all this before. Pixies grinning and stupid Christmas questions repeat themselves from past and future. How do I know what people are going to say? Why do they keep asking the same questions? Why do I keep answering with the same words?

Why can't I recognize myself in the mirror anymore?
Why am I dreaming when I'm awake? And why do people try to ease my paranoia with false comfort while they brandish their cruel knives behind their backs?

MNS: The Next Generation

More moderately new stuff. Got rid of the old link to Ryan's defunct blog, as the address has been usurped by some tool from Orlando Florida. Rest in peace, ye bloody hands.

In it's place, I added a link to The Worst Hour in Radio History. A tasteless blog full of penile rantings and humourings of one Pastor Rowe. Enjoy at your own risk. Content includes equal doses of politics and bullshit.

I've also added a link to the Neverending White Lights official website, down in the music area. I recommend checking it out, if you're at all interested in Daniel Victor's collaborative project.

I've realized that for those of you using full screen web browsers, there's two very large and annoying sections of blankness to the left of my entries, and to the right of the sidebar. Any suggestions on pictures I could throw in there to liven it up? I'd only be using black a white with some silver tones, so no flowers, womanly curves, or skylines.

And So

I figure this time of year, I must be the most boring person alive.

That aside, my guitar has been taken in for tuning, string replacement and a level setup. I figure if I can get it professionally done for free, I should capitalize on that. So, it's going to be a week; just in time for Christmas.

I've also contracted a headcold. I've been taking a very potent medication for it, which may have had something to do with my earlier scrooginess. I would apologize, but I'm just about to take another dose, so we'll wait until the smoke and debris clears before we start with the reparations.

Have I mentioned that I love baguettes? Because I do, especially when they're fresh baked and warm, and made into sandwiches.

Denial ain't a river.

Freedom... or some eulogy similar thereto

Wrapped up at the college today. For better or for worse, I'm done for the winter break. Now, everyone gets to look forward to the proverbial twelve days of Christmas. The gluttony. The singing. The systematic transferral of money from the hands of families into the hands of businesses. Family. Fruitcake. Actually, skip the fruitcake.

Come to think of it, I'm being accused of skipping the family too. See, I'm working this Christmas holiday.

Now why would anyone in at least half of their right mind do that?

You must be asking yourself. Well, I have three reasons. Reason number one, and probably the most prominant. I don't have half of a right mind. Reason number two, I can't stand how crotchety my family gets over the holidays. They get all festive, and I get all, well. I get all myself. And they can't stand that. It's too big of a raincloud for their little festive parade. So they get whiny and aggressive and invasive. I just want my peace and quiet. Reason number three, I would like very much to have lots and lots of money so that I'm not a debt-ridden deadbeat like most of my friends. Ooops. Did I just say that out loud? I'm sorry. It's true, a lot of my friends are debt-ridden, but only one or two are deadbeats. You know who you are. The rest of you can go. Yes, even you.

So then, I bet somebody out there is thinking what a scrooge. Doesn't want to spend time with family. Doesn't enjoy the festive spirit. Doesn't even like fruitcake. Aye... we're going to lynch him with candycanes.

Well, to be perfectly blunt, Christmas for me this year is like any other day of the year. The extended family isn't coming out, the synthetic tree was set up late, and of course, I wasn't here when ornaments were put up. So, come Christmas morning, I'll follow my usual routine. Wake up, try not to intrude on anyone's 10' security bubble, and try to find a vacant area in the house where I can have some "me" time.

So far, it's been a pursuit in vain.
I should have put a new house on my Christmas list.
or maybe... "Privacy. Learn to knock, numbnuts."

Anybody else working over the Christmas break?

A-Day

I can hardly feel my feet. I'm dead tired, but this is it. The last dash before classes are done for the winter break.

I didn't sleep well last night. Bothered, I guess. Between the alcohol in my system and pain in my head, it was to be expected. It's amazing how four bottles of beer can take a fearless man and make him paranoid. And then the morning comes and all he can feel is dread.

All news is bad news today. I can feel it. I'm afraid to talk to people, because they're going to tell me something I don't want to hear. I've heard enough this week. I don't want to hear any more.
But I can't help to listen if you tell me. My ears are always open, and call it an addiction, but I can't get enough bad medicine.

It's better than the cotton candy lies that are rotting people's teeth nowadays.
And nobody ever solved anything by ignoring the problem.

But alas, no more bottles!

Pickaxe to the Brain

They're conspiring against me to cause a headache.

I swear. First there was the sun, jabbing my eyesockets with his unwanted cold rays of blindness. Then there was the weather, which like an uncertain highschool girl, blows hot and cold and can't decide whether to be cool or warm. Now, outside my office door, there is an army of anklebiters, touring from a nearby elementary. None of them have learned how to control their voices. They're all yelling.

A couple are crying. Where the fuck are the teachers? Parents? Guardians? Don't tell me they let these little buggers out without some kind of supervision? Something terrible could happen to them, like being accosted by an angry editor who's trying to get his work done.

I'm turning Pony Boy up, hopefully a shock of rock right to my brain will alleviate some of the building pressure. Either that, or little skulls will be having a quick and decisive date with a nine-iron my boss left outside his office.

Gah. Somebody knock me out now. This has not been a good day.

Edit: Now somebody sprayed some kind of berry-fruit something-or-other shit, and it's making the whole house smell like poorly manufactured esters. Fuck. FUCK. Why do people have to sample fucking Fruits-o-the-sun in MY house?

Back when Angels swam with me

Yeah, I've been listening to a lot of Radiohead recently. I've also been playing F.E.A.R. Damnit D.! That shit is scary!
But not so scary that I can't bolt guys to the wall if they piss me off. In virtual reality anyway. And there's nothing quite like bicycle kicking a guy over a railing or into a steel box. Ouch.

I got my first Christmas gift last night. A new cellphone. I don't know how they could call that I gift. I had to go pick out the phone and plan, and deal with the salesman. Yeah. I had a headache about thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis big after the whole ordeal was done. No amount of painkiller seemed to help, so I just blew my plans for the evening and rolled into bed for a while.

It makes me wonder. Why must phone companies literally ream my ass with their shitty plans and poor selection of cellphones when I already have a reasonable idea of what I want? Is 200 daytime minutes and unlimited nights and weekends too much to ask for? And what's with this instant message shit? Why am I being charged $0.15 for every instant message? Why must I pay an extra $2 a month for a piddly 30 messages a month? It costs the company virtually nothing to fire an ascii line of code through their network. What's next? Charging 80 cents a kilobyte for telephony modems?

Fuck.

Anger and me don't get along well unless it's about cell phones or greedy assholes. Calgary has no shortage of either.

Crooked Crooks can't be Criminals, so they become Politicians

For those of you outside the country, Canada is on the campaign trail towards an election.

For those of you inside the country, we're fucked. If you haven't turned on the tube recently, let me fill you in. None of the main parties (Liberals, Conservatives, NDP) have offered anything tangible in terms of spending or platforms. Harper is pining for the traditional definition of marriage, Layton wants there to be umpteen billions of dollars pumped into education, likely at the expense of other programs, or another ungodly leap in taxes.

Martin is just hoping to whoever's listening that he'll be elected again.

I can guarantee you, regardless of who you vote for this election, you'll be losing out. I know some of you will vote Conservative, because you're under the idealistic notion that they will somehow "keep their word." These are trained politicians we're dealing with here, ladies and gentlemen. They'd tell you that your royalty to get your vote. None of them are to be trusted any further than you'd trust a fox in a henhouse.

Some of you will vote Liberal, simply because you're afraid of the Conservative's right wing policies. Bad idea. The Libs have been in power for a long time now, and I don't think they even really have a plan anymore, besides seeing just how far they can roll this trainwreck of a federal government.

Some of you won't vote. Which is your right, but in refusing to vote, you also lose the right to bitch about what the government's doing.

Some of you will be voting Green. Well, that's awesome. But I think it's a little late for that.

I don't know who I'll be voting for. I don't think it matters. None of the leaders have visited Alberta, likely because it's such a homogenized voting body. The Conservatives don't campaign here, because they know they've already won, and the Liberals and NDP won't touch Alberta, because they know, shy of crossing the floor, there is nothing that they can do to win anymore seats here.

Well, that's my one and only political rant for this season. Back to regular programming.

The Power of Love

And I...



will always...



love yooooouuuuuu...



They don't get it. They sing of love like it was something to save us, when look at what it gave us. Love is a force like weak atomic bonds, it holds everything together by the most tenuous grip, but is so easily shattered that it can't help but explode when the inevitable happens.

So keep on singing. Keep on praying for a better world through breeding the hate. Pass on your values, like money and piety, and hope to God that your children can somehow eke some kind of existance from the mess you've made.

Note: None of the A-bomb pictures are mine. I take no credit for them. They are the property of their respective home sites.

Not to smash your perception or anything...

Wild Thing
32 Reserved, 92 Kinky

Sex is more than just physical. It is one of the ways to build an emotional bond between two people. Sex gives adults the opportunity to act like children again. You know how to enjoy kinky sex. You may have problems finding a lover equally adventurous that isn't a slut or a womanizer. But with time and affection the nicest lady and most refined gentleman can become as wild in bed as you are. Communication is the key.


Never judge a book by a cover, a person by the noise they make, or a lake by its surface.

This, at the behest of apples, who insisted I share this kind of stuff (perhaps more often?). I dunno. I'm testing the waters here. Do you people really need to know this? No, of course not. But this kind of stuff is out there, so why do we hide it? Why do we cringe from the topic?

Roles in Life

In life, everyone has their role to play.

The optimist builds the aeroplane,
The pessimist, the parachute.

Where's your parachute?
Pessimists make better parachutes because they know what it's like.
In crisis, an optimist is worse than useless because they can't possibly comprehend that everything is not going just peachy,
and everything will not be okay.

The only downside is when you're going high and fast, a parachute tends to pull you down.

Natural Order

I've been pondering the natural order of things. How would nature work, if applied to human culture? If we got rid of all of our taboos and structures, and just lived according to our instincts and our own personal directives, how would mankind work? I can probably say with some certainty that marriage would probably cease to be. I've been seeing increasing evidence that mankinds natural state of union is not a monogamous one.

How would nations work? Well, they wouldn't. There wouldn't be any structure to protect or define rights or laws, so genocide would be a distinct possibility. Rape, pillaging, destruction. It could all be possible. But so would honesty. Ettiquette would be gone, so what would be considered rude? The truth used to be rude.

Then it would just be the truth.

Could you imagine living in this kind of world? I could. It would be like seeing my own extinction in a blaze of nothing. When the unspoken rules of society lift away, I would probably thrive to the point of combustion. Or I would just go crazy after witnessing the sheer madness that would be unleashed without the collars of society to keep it in check.

The more I think about the natural order of things, the more I think that man in its current state is an unnatural thing.