Pumpkin Patrol

Jerry, the Pumpkin Patriarch, stabbed poignantly to the ground and stated with flourish in a primeval tone, "My land, my pumpkins, my moon, my fence, and my grass."

Citrus Kisses

Scientific evidence proves that the human cranium has increased much over the time the species has been in existence. Greater cranial capacity enables for more room for the brain, which indicates higher intellect. By means of global communication and information through readily accessible sources, we are smarter than people thousands of years ago and those of yesterday. Yet, certain aspects of our collective unconscious have gone completely unaltered. These aspects are intangible, yet are proven to exist through the way we behave and associate with one another. Immature humor was appreciated in the time of Cervantes (1500's) and it's continued to be appreciated with the same uncouth sentiment as it ever was. Prideful individuals still sneer at it and the youth still engage willingly. The methods by which it's exhibited have changed, but the passionate sentimentality towards it's subject hasn't altered one bit.

In Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen deliberates situations that can be paralleled with those which occur today. Despite the fact that it's a fictitious novel and written in the 1700's, it still contains revealing aspects of communication error and how it can realistically warp our reputation and perception of others. People backstabbed, behaved dastardly and ignorantly towards each other hundreds of years ago and they will continue to hundreds of years from now. In unison it's strangely morose and romantic.

No matter how much war, technological advance, or cranial-growth we experience in the next hundreds/thousands of years we'll still perpetuate these human habits along with several others. We are organic, raw, and imperfect; we are dependable in that our personalities differ greatly but collective affinity is established through parallel thinking. No matter of technology will diminish our empathy and how we use it in regards to other cognitive beings, despite what all the dumb-ass futuristic novels or surveys say.

How my mind works

"We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father..."

I take several long swallows of milk while staring down, absorbed in the memorization of the Nicene Creed for the quiz tomorrow. My idle hand drifts to peanut butter toast, lifts it to my lips, and I chew off one side of the crust. A distracted mind becomes enrapt in earlier happenstance. I had placed Robin Hood in the DVD player before my mom came ambling in. I imagined her as an ape, staring down her Barbary nose with cusped lips while gesticulating widely into the air with her orangutan arms. Toast down, glass tilts back, milk empties into my mouth. Her eyes would grow round and her lips would pucker like a disgruntled chimpanzee. "Lost, lost," she would hoot from beyond those thick lips. Sputter, snort, aw, shit. Milk shot up my nasal passages, stifled my nose and drizzled down my upper lip. Up the stairs, grappling Kleenex, meander back down to spot Duchess slurping up the last piece of my toast which I had prudently sculpted into a star fish with my teeth.

Disappointment replaced humor, but sensibility honed my malcontent, and I sat back down to continue memorizing the Nicene Creed.

Rudimentary Vanity

She woke up stiff and irritable, rolling from an aged and lumpy mattress to her feet. Tediously removing the retainers from her mouth a sick feeling swelled at the seat of her stomach as she nudged her teeth with her tongue. They were loose. The pine air was acrid in her nostrils. The familiar smell of wood-rot provided only moderate solace. She was at Jan Lake in Alberta and pivoted to examine the loose set of teeth in the adjacent mirror. A hand lifted to her insipid complexion and gently passed over them. Six fell out, including an eyetooth, a few molars and a couple incisors.

Vanity. She wanted to cry. Tongue wriggled in the plush holes, rolling over hot-red gums, now raw and available to open air. She didn't concern herself with how it might affect her health, only her appearance. She grimaced at the mirror and then tore out of the room to find another conscious person rousing them to the situation. They seemed apathetic and idly related how it would be several days before they could get to a dentist to fix the problem. They were at the lake after all.

She sat on the porch. The smell of fresh rain on the bark and foliage was rank. Vain tears struggled down her face. A couple teeth were cradled in her hand. She rubbed cartilage lining the stubby root with a dry and cold thumb while staring out at the other four teeth, which lay on the verdant ground surrounding her. She thought of how she would require dental surgery to get new teeth and the pain that would follow, but at the apex of her priorities was how the lack of teeth currently affected her appearance.

Her perfect smile was ruined. Now all they would see is a marred simper. Woe, woe, woe.

Pucker up, whore

I found lipstick in my room today. I put it on. It's an extremely gaudy neon-red color. I never wear lipstick. Neither mom or my brother commented, it reminded me of the day I wore Parsnip around my neck all day. They didn't even give me a second glance. I swear, if I walked in the door tomorrow with Graham's 1/2" gauge spirals they'd walk right past me. I conclude: they've either accepted my personality for all of it's eccentric attributes, or they're convinced I'm going through a teen-quirk stage and are set on ignoring everything irregular that I do.

Whateva, fam. Represent, straight up dope word my brutha and my mutha.

Steadfast trust

Odd numbers are beautiful. They lack the consistency and structure of even numbers. In tangible proportions, they provide a different perspective. Sometimes it can look crooked and the human mind is fixed on it much longer and faster than that of a symmetrical formation just because we desire to transform the model into something more. Similarly, my trust acts the same way. It's fixed on you. You tell me to believe you, I will. It's as simple as that. Don't attempt to move the numbers around so that I'll see more clearly, I acknowledge and trust all you say. There may be evidence to prove that what you've said isn't true, but since it's come from your mouth and you have never given me a reason to doubt I'm firm in my understanding.

It will take more than another's vile hysteria to change my mind. A handful of them can claim what they will, but I believe in you alone. I only ask you not to take advantage of my trust and manipulate or break it. Try to keep the odd numbers as they are and appreciate them for their disharmony. We're only human but we're capable of conscious decisiveness. Thus you have a choice.

Whatever you decide, I believe in you.

Inspired by Matty.

Music of the moment: Discretion by Pedro the Lion

I wish I could hate

If I knew how, it would be so much easier to let it go. I wouldn't fret over how you treat your body, I would be utterly apathetic and it would feel so much better inside. But I'm not capable of hate, so instead I feel anger, frustration, and pain. You want escape. From what, life? What's so difficult that you feel it necessary to swindle your consciousness over with something masochistic? You're real. The scent of your skin, the ripple in your laugh, the guileless smile you chance to show when your pain is momentarily cut short. Let it wither with time, not extend into eternity with your pathetic tendencies. Live. Ache. Fucking scream, cry and beat me black and blue if it'll make you feel better. But don't go out of your way to hurt yourself for the sake of escape.

You fucking have to deal, okay? I've dealt with shit, I'll continue to. No substance will be able to take the wretched pain away. It may exist until I die, but at least I'll grow. You won't with your immature irresponsibility. Sure, we do stupid shit as kids. Everyone does. But you have control over what stupid shit you do.

I don't hate you, but I hate what you've chosen to do.

Mahjongg

Mahjongg. Go. Play. It's addictive. Since regular solitaire has become too boring and easy, mahjongg is sufficient for me. It's intense too... but probably not for those who've played Halo before. Hah. Lurve.

I haven't had anything interesting to post for a while guys, I'm sorry. Go play mahjongg and maybe you'll be able to forgive me. Maybe.



Music of the moment: Piano Lessons by Porcupine Tree

Eat my sword, vermin

Everything I appreciate will become transparent eventually. The wind of time will winnow away their exteriors until they completely fall away. There'll be no tangible evidence that it was here. New objects and people will replace those that have fallen away, are they just as appreciated? Are they as valuable, or are those that have left me too imperative to my being to be replaced? Will the person I have become mold into someone new, someone I will fail to appreciate for who she is? Will she be abrasive, rude? Will she be diligent, studious? Maybe she'll be kinder than I am, with more incentive to encourage in others the same surmounting blitheness that resides in her. It's difficult to say for sure, I haven't speculated my current personality enough to know whether I am someone with any of those traits.

I know I appreciate those I hold company with. Every smile they break in my direction or bout of laughter that spills from their beautiful mouth summons true happiness. I don't consider whether their smiles or laughter is true, I don't wonder whether they put on a show to make me believe they enjoy my company. I'm naïve and guileless. I anticipate the future but I worry for what it will do to the sanctuary of my friends' metaphorical embrace. I can appreciate high school reminiscence without tear-jerking woe; the drinking, parties, impetuousness and outright teenage angst will be left behind without remorse. But I can't let go of the company I keep so easily.

I don't look forward to drifting away from you.

I decided last night that I'm going to be a pirate after high school. Yar, join me in plights for treasure and glory me hearties.

Affect of Shadow

I have your earrings that you wore Saturday night, doll. Remind me next time we hang out to give them to you.

Cheesy Affection

"This cheese originates in the exotic lands of India, where it has aged by vast orchards plump with pomegranates. They hang native spices in the cellars to help the cultured cheese pick up an accent of the land. I bought it for you because you remind me of an Indian princess, worthy of expensive and remarkable cheese."

Oh Mister Cheeseman, I will melt like mozzarella cheese all over an Italian pizza, just for you!

Altruism

is just a façade. It's a practice participated by those who take personal delight in instigating appreciation or pleasure from other people. By definition it's for the sake of the person and the contributor receives nothing in return, but in truth their good feelings are derived from a swollen ego. We please others for the sake of ourselves, Alyx and gentlemen.

So I hope you all have a merry Valentines Day and February break. I positively heart every single one of you to bloody pieces.

Void Me

A: List 10 random tracks from Winamp:
Duke Ellington & Louis Armstrong - Mood Indigo
Tracy Chapman - Fast Car
Arrogant Worms - Carrot Juice is Murder
Meiko Kaji - Flower of Carnage
Disturbed - Prayer
George Michaels - Gotta Have Faith
Pink Martini - Lilly
Spongebob Square Pants - Fun Song
Stone Temple Pilots - All in the Suit That You Wear
The Shins - Those to Come

B: Song which you are currently listening to...
Death From Above 1979 - Losing Friends

C: The last CD you bought is...
Adelade

D: What is the song you last listened to before this?
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Otherside

E: Write down five songs you often listen to or mean alot to you:
Pink Martini - Clementine
The Shins - Pink Bullets
Semisonic - Secret Smile
Robbie Williams - Beyond the Sea
The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun

I feel so lame and lonely right now. Frig. I'm supposed to be effusive, what's up with this.

Reader discretion

advised, the following subject matter is graphic (controversial) and may not be suitable for all audiences. Seriously. You've been warned.

A little boy sat down daintily, chalk held firmly between his thick fingers. His stare was intense as it inspected the textured pavement. It was getting late. The sun hung low on the horizon and crimson streaks polluted the clouds and sky. Stars and a mustard-colored moon were becoming apparent. The street was quiet except for the consistent sound of steps that were nonchalantly drawing nearer. Daniel began to delicately draw a picture of a warped bee. One hand supported his weight on the warm sidewalk while the other put as much pressure as he could muster into filling in the wobbly-lined image.

Suddenly he shot into the air. The chalk fell from his grasp and broke. He bit his tongue in surprise and gave an abrupt cry, but soon he found immense delight in observing world from such a high perspective. A large (at least, in comparison to little Danny) person had slipped their hands under his armpits and drew him up into their arms. They walked for a while, Daniel happily surveying the world with inquisitive eyes and a swiveling head. He didn't ask questions. He didn't feel the inclination too, but he was glad someone took the time to spend a little quality time with him especially in this manner. Wow! Everything looked so tiny! It began to get darker, the streetlights flared into function.

They came to a fence. Daniel grappled for it with his fingers and his caterer gently asked, "Would you like to climb to the top of the world?" Daniel let a splinter of giggles pour gaily from his mouth, the wide-set grin on his face exposing nub-like teeth and a little plump, red tongue. His eyes had shrunk into crescents in his delight as he continued to grope. "Okay, here you go." Hereupon Daniel was lifted so that his reaching arms extended past the top of the fence and the person brought him down sharply. Pain jolted through Danny, his upper arms were caught between the posts and he hadn't the strength to pull himself out of the predicament. He flailed and kicked, but every time he did he felt his skin abrasively tear or pull against the stained wood. Screams tore from his throat followed up by grunts of exertion and gulping sobs.

Daniel's head lashed right and left, feral eyes searching. Where did they go? Where? What was happening? Why did they leave him like this?

Running feet, wild eyes, a couple new people. They looked at Daniel only momentarily before hoisting him up so that the weight of his body didn't hang by the poor flesh of his arm. The pain, so suddenly released, gave the strawberry-blonde boy an overwhelming sense of relief and subconscious gratitude for his saviors. They took him out of the situation with as much caution as they could muster. Hiccupping sobs still barreled from his throat but he looked significantly calmer and once set onto the ground he wrapped his heavily bruised arms around the closest leg available and buried his damp face into their trousers.

Someone who he didn't know had been cruel to him, but with child naivety he felt no resentment to people in general. He held no reserve and instantly clung onto the next anonymous person he could find. Had it been the same person who had put him into that situation he may've even clung on with the same frantic urgency. The consistency of a very young child's trust is remarkably similar to that of many animals. This was an example of personifying animal cruelty to make a point.

Rejoice! Samuel found a home!

Crippled kiss, parched throat, paltry voice slipping from a moist larynx; they're not so different but they taste contrary. Inclined heads, insipid complexion; dear stranger... the desire to offer more than vasoline for those chafed and taut-set lips is overwhelming. On the cracked window-ledge, processed tea, lukewarm but steeped with potential. Waning light from tender coals warped the picture of a couple lightly draped across each other. A dog, a compact disc and a pencil interacted by the hearth, an immaculate relationship susceptible to likewise perfect disaster.

Citrus burned between the crackled lips. Hunger momentarily quenches the pain. Apprehension kept her away. Anticipation drew him near. What will be will be parallel and cancerous but affectionate in nature. Bittersweet pork, the trite worms of time ate precious moments and consumed picture-perfect memories. A dandelion splintered between twiddling, dumb, and uncoordinated digits. Sticky and opaque white blood pooled from the frail stem. Que sera, sera, my love.

Song of the moment: Clementine by Pink Martini

Meet Sam

The crayon-colored white-tailed buck who'll never be complete. Boohoo.

January 18, 3:20am

In the dark liquid mercury,
into my hands, my mouth, --
shit 2:50am,
I'm dying from a nose bleed
in the dark no light no pain
hot in my hands liquid metal
bitter, Hard and unforgiving.
Orange sink white walls white
light bright poppy red falling
from my face. Orange lips
abrasive taste -- Gone too far
from me, not here not there not
-- Swallow bloodclot nassal
passage. Taste metallic success.
Stomach pains, white nostril fame,
I'm drowning in bloodbathe.
Tangerine eyelids orange-pulp
pout failure.