It walks, it talks, it grins, it laughs.
It sings, it taunts, it cries, it sleeps.
But these are all just acts, subtle pulls of the puppeteers strings.
When one by one those tethers are cut,
The limbs come loose, and all the thoughts come undone.
It stares blankly, eyes left looking up at the sky.
Involuntarily paralyzed, left adrift in the rippling waves of time.
Cast adrift in the past, left churning over the waterfall of the black abyss;
The future.
Saw blades whine and the horrified screams waft lazily over. Slowly, slowly,
the lines grow taught.
First eyes, then hands, then feet.
A word is uttered, followed by another, and another.
Animation is returned and it stands, shakily at first.
Then more steady.
It is human, but not humane.
It hides, or doesn't exist.
Nobody knows. All that matters is the strings,
not what they're attached to.
Pretty noises and nice gestures and self-control.
Contrasted to silence and immobility.
Hesitation.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Scotland's Shame
It's getting dark enough that I can go for walks before midnight and be under a veil of complete darkness.
In this city, all the streetlights are incandescent, which renders everything into a relief of orange monochrome in the middle of the night. When it's raining, the sparking orange and black pebbles on the street are four-dimensional, seemingly existing on the ground and in my eyes at the same time.
It's been a strange season. There's all the talk of CERN's Large Hadron Collider destroying the world on October 21st, which incidentally is the day after my birthday. A few friends of mine have suggested using that as a pickup line, but really, the world's been in a slow state of self-destruct for almost a century now. Trying to sleep with a girl on the pretense that it's all coming to a head tomorrow is... pretentious, at best. A bad pun at the worst.
Anyway. To abuse a scientific analogy, things have been crashing and grinding together lately. Violently. Beautifully. I can liken it to the cosmic fireworks of two asteroids or planets crashing together. Relationships have crashed and burned, and from their smoldering ashes, beautiful things grow. The economy is sinking like a one-flippered seal, and nobody seems to know how to fix it without spending massive amounts of taxpayer money.
So essentially, ladies and gentlemen like you and myself are paying for the fuck-ups of some of the wealthiest and most powerful companies in the world. When we've had time to settle from the shock, I wonder if everyone will be pissed off, or merely apathetic. It's not right, but really, whatever has been when it comes to our particular brand of market economics?
I know a lot of good people are going to be left twisting in the wind when this is all over, but what really stings is the people responsible won't be. And again, I ask myself, how is this different from any other time.
We've got an election coming up soon. I think I'm going to write the song titles from Mogwai's latest album over my ballot.
I vote for this CD. Because it's done more good things than any suit in government.
In this city, all the streetlights are incandescent, which renders everything into a relief of orange monochrome in the middle of the night. When it's raining, the sparking orange and black pebbles on the street are four-dimensional, seemingly existing on the ground and in my eyes at the same time.
It's been a strange season. There's all the talk of CERN's Large Hadron Collider destroying the world on October 21st, which incidentally is the day after my birthday. A few friends of mine have suggested using that as a pickup line, but really, the world's been in a slow state of self-destruct for almost a century now. Trying to sleep with a girl on the pretense that it's all coming to a head tomorrow is... pretentious, at best. A bad pun at the worst.
Anyway. To abuse a scientific analogy, things have been crashing and grinding together lately. Violently. Beautifully. I can liken it to the cosmic fireworks of two asteroids or planets crashing together. Relationships have crashed and burned, and from their smoldering ashes, beautiful things grow. The economy is sinking like a one-flippered seal, and nobody seems to know how to fix it without spending massive amounts of taxpayer money.
So essentially, ladies and gentlemen like you and myself are paying for the fuck-ups of some of the wealthiest and most powerful companies in the world. When we've had time to settle from the shock, I wonder if everyone will be pissed off, or merely apathetic. It's not right, but really, whatever has been when it comes to our particular brand of market economics?
I know a lot of good people are going to be left twisting in the wind when this is all over, but what really stings is the people responsible won't be. And again, I ask myself, how is this different from any other time.
We've got an election coming up soon. I think I'm going to write the song titles from Mogwai's latest album over my ballot.
I vote for this CD. Because it's done more good things than any suit in government.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Eight Legs
There's a spider crawling up my wall. And I won't lie, it's so warm in here tonight that I think I'm a little delirious.
Truth be told, my house is full of spiders. Given the plethora of pests that can infest a house, I think me and my family have accepted that we'll always have an abundance of the eight-legged variety. I don't have a problem with them. They avoid people, and they feast on all manner of other bugs that would normally piss me off by buzzing around my room in the middle of the night*.
Some people have a huge problem with spiders. I guess, when they see them, they imagine arachnids like Sydney Funnel Web spiders or Black Widows, with huge abdomens and sinister fangs. Or perhaps tarantulas, with their aggressive urticating hair and menacing appearance. I don't know. I find them quiet interesting.
They probably find us rather appalling. We're five-to-six feet of thundering flesh, bad attitude, and self-righteousness. Something as nasty as a spider shouldn't be allowed to exist - can't be allowed to exist.
Of course, to a spider, all it can think about it that it just exists. Death could come at any moment, either from starvation or predation. Humans are just one more grisly end - pancaked between a hard surface and whatever handy bludgeon the fleshy pink meatbags might be able to grasp.
It's probably not healthy that I can identify better with an eight-legged insectivore than with my fellow people. After working in retail for a while, I've found myself to be rather barbaric at times. I'm not bad, but I'm given to informal outbursts. I can't understand how people think - or why they think the ways they do. A lot of times, what people do is completely selfish and arrogant. I could write stories about how people behave, but given how popular those tales were, I'd rather just stick a wad of salt in my mouth and sing hallelujah.
Maybe I'm just being selfish and arrogant myself.
But really, I'm fast running out of things to be.
Because in this "enlightened" world, I'm nothing if not ignorant.
As a post-script, if you haven't already, take a look for The Hawk is Howling. I guess it was available in Eastern Canada about a week ago. The cunts at our local music shops have no excuse for not having it now.
*Edit: Knight? Jesus. I've watched too much Batman.
Truth be told, my house is full of spiders. Given the plethora of pests that can infest a house, I think me and my family have accepted that we'll always have an abundance of the eight-legged variety. I don't have a problem with them. They avoid people, and they feast on all manner of other bugs that would normally piss me off by buzzing around my room in the middle of the night*.
Some people have a huge problem with spiders. I guess, when they see them, they imagine arachnids like Sydney Funnel Web spiders or Black Widows, with huge abdomens and sinister fangs. Or perhaps tarantulas, with their aggressive urticating hair and menacing appearance. I don't know. I find them quiet interesting.
They probably find us rather appalling. We're five-to-six feet of thundering flesh, bad attitude, and self-righteousness. Something as nasty as a spider shouldn't be allowed to exist - can't be allowed to exist.
Of course, to a spider, all it can think about it that it just exists. Death could come at any moment, either from starvation or predation. Humans are just one more grisly end - pancaked between a hard surface and whatever handy bludgeon the fleshy pink meatbags might be able to grasp.
It's probably not healthy that I can identify better with an eight-legged insectivore than with my fellow people. After working in retail for a while, I've found myself to be rather barbaric at times. I'm not bad, but I'm given to informal outbursts. I can't understand how people think - or why they think the ways they do. A lot of times, what people do is completely selfish and arrogant. I could write stories about how people behave, but given how popular those tales were, I'd rather just stick a wad of salt in my mouth and sing hallelujah.
Maybe I'm just being selfish and arrogant myself.
But really, I'm fast running out of things to be.
Because in this "enlightened" world, I'm nothing if not ignorant.
As a post-script, if you haven't already, take a look for The Hawk is Howling. I guess it was available in Eastern Canada about a week ago. The cunts at our local music shops have no excuse for not having it now.
*Edit: Knight? Jesus. I've watched too much Batman.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
We shine brightly, or not at all: Part 2
September 11th. It's my sister's birthday.
It's also the only day of the year when Republicans can hook up, hit the streets, and get their paranoid on.
It's also the only day of the year when Republicans can hook up, hit the streets, and get their paranoid on.
Monday, September 08, 2008
We shine brightly, or not at all
I had a dream last night.
I wanted a hair cut, but nobody in town would do it. Everyone either didn't pick up their phone, or if it was a walk-in, I'd walk in and sit down, and they'd just stand there chewing gum and gossiping, practically ignoring me.
After a while, I just cut my own hair. It looked like shit, but I promised myself that I'd learn to do it better, since the whole world had gone to shit and everyone had become so apathetic that even when paid to work, they'd just sit around.
On waking up, I realized it was sad for two reason. One, under no circumstances would I cut my own hair, even up to and including the zombie apocalypse. And two, it was uncannily like real life, where every damn barber shop this side of the city has damn near closed its doors for the level of service they're giving. I mean, I even tip well, and it's still not enough for them to give a flying fuck.
Oh well. I'm fast learning to deal with the collapse of the service sector. I'm not afraid of doing things myself, and I'm not at all bothered by the sudden lack of professionalism in paid... professionals? Can they even be called that anymore?
Anyway. So, long story short. I woke up this morning in a lurch, and then reminded myself that I'm not a useless clod. In the event that everyone just fucks off and I'm left with kilometres of empty streets and blinking lights, I'll be alright.
Hell, I've been waiting for just such a day to bust out the camera.
I wanted a hair cut, but nobody in town would do it. Everyone either didn't pick up their phone, or if it was a walk-in, I'd walk in and sit down, and they'd just stand there chewing gum and gossiping, practically ignoring me.
After a while, I just cut my own hair. It looked like shit, but I promised myself that I'd learn to do it better, since the whole world had gone to shit and everyone had become so apathetic that even when paid to work, they'd just sit around.
On waking up, I realized it was sad for two reason. One, under no circumstances would I cut my own hair, even up to and including the zombie apocalypse. And two, it was uncannily like real life, where every damn barber shop this side of the city has damn near closed its doors for the level of service they're giving. I mean, I even tip well, and it's still not enough for them to give a flying fuck.
Oh well. I'm fast learning to deal with the collapse of the service sector. I'm not afraid of doing things myself, and I'm not at all bothered by the sudden lack of professionalism in paid... professionals? Can they even be called that anymore?
Anyway. So, long story short. I woke up this morning in a lurch, and then reminded myself that I'm not a useless clod. In the event that everyone just fucks off and I'm left with kilometres of empty streets and blinking lights, I'll be alright.
Hell, I've been waiting for just such a day to bust out the camera.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
Can-do attitude
Well, it's all very well that we enjoy this life.
This life we got,
It's an all-you-can-eat buffet.
But what to do, when it all starts tasting,
like ash, like nothing?
What to do, when all the plates are dirty,
and the forks aren't clean,
and the wine's all muddy?
What are you going to say,
when this things strings start pulling,
the days are long,
and the the grins aren't showing?
It's a strange, strange thing to be starving at a feast, and silent in a crowd. It's a sad, sad thing, that we're loners in sardine cans.
This life we got,
It's an all-you-can-eat buffet.
But what to do, when it all starts tasting,
like ash, like nothing?
What to do, when all the plates are dirty,
and the forks aren't clean,
and the wine's all muddy?
What are you going to say,
when this things strings start pulling,
the days are long,
and the the grins aren't showing?
It's a strange, strange thing to be starving at a feast, and silent in a crowd. It's a sad, sad thing, that we're loners in sardine cans.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)