Once I had a bunch of moral fibre (but it went through my system pretty quick)

November 7, 2007

I don’t know the first thing about seconds.  The truth of the matter is I like throwing Frisbees to myself.  I love the dignity of the parabola.  The golden equation, the sum.  Some is too much.  Chocolate smiles too sweet to smudge with a touch.  Lick it, lump it, like it.  When did fudge become a mistake to make?  I rub my eyes full of glittering flies.  Blue.  Electric.  Eclectic, almost like electric if you don’t pay attention.  I’d be surprised if most people’s attention could span a puddle. 

We’re getting Googlephrenic.  The idea of disgoogleplexia is heightened by infinity plus one.  The numbers never end.  There is nothing but empty space.

I wonder if they’ll ever have McDonald’s Restaurant theme parks for all the little chubby kids.  Eat your shorts for good, nutritional Christian values.  It’s not supposed to make scents, but it stinks no matter how you slice it.  I recommend using your hands and ripping, but that doesn’t always work out for some of the saucier things in life. 

What can you do about googlephrenia?  I don’t know, Google it.  The spinning wheel, karmic in nature, stops on a dollar.  Bits of a puzzle up the barkers sleeve.  Religion is so medieval.  Shit.  Think of something else.   You know what I meme? 

Know, no, I mean, now, how brown cow?  If they made chocolate milk, I’d be sucking those teats ’til the farmers came home.  I don’t want to offend Hindus.  I rather like the art.  Beautiful intricate colours.  I don’t know anything about famine, except for the guilt I feel from cheating on the thirty-hour version.  Fuckin’ charity, what is it these days?  A corporation under a different guise. 

Shit stinks.  I think that’s why we call it shit.  We say so many things smell like shit, but they don’t really all smell exactly like shit, not even all shit smells the same.  That would be weird.  What would the world be like if we spoke with our mouths, but ate with our bums?  The food court would be a lot uglier. 

What does crude mean to you?  What does rude have to do with crude, other than the price we pay?  I’m on a plane, wake up snickers, I have a sweet suite to suit all my wants, but none of my needs.  All these weeds.  How is cleanliness close to godliness?  Priorities ward back, beckon thee to reckon thee. 

A yahoo is a beast of burden, a human slave to horses.  Is this what you want?  Horses are fleet of foot.  We’d be too, if we stayed on all fours.  That would be strange, huh?  Quadrupeds, eating out of our asses.  At least there’d be some time when we weren’t talking out of them.  Too many people talk shit.  Not a bad breath statement.  I might have something to say about that, but I locked all the workers out of my olfactory.  Commie bastards.  None of them can play the drums worth a ruble. 

America is going down with their dollar and sense.  If life without a gun in my face means death, then death it is, ’cause you can’t control anyone or anything for long.  If I’m going down because of you, I’m taking you too.  Ya dig? 

I once had a nightmare about digging holes.  Each hole was assigned an numeric value, more like an algebraic equation.  The nightmarish was that no matter how many holes I dug, I couldn’t surpass a certain sum.  I woke up sweaty and terrified.  I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.  2001 was on TV.  I should give that movie another shot.  I was in a poor frame of mind.  I shouldn’t live with regret, but that would mean I’d have to forget.  What?  Not sure.  No matter how much I forget, it never changes the regret.  Some things are carved into bone. 

Once I had a whole bunch of moral fibre, but it went through my system pretty quick.  That’s the title.  That’s how things are named in these here parts.

Funny thing is I don’t know what’s mine and what belongs to someone else.  I don’t know if plagiarism applies to a memory without footnotes, end notes, ibids or et als.  We’re all crazy.  We can’t agree on cake.  I like the icing that gives you a cocaine like sugar high.  You know the icing in which you can crunch the granules of sugar.  Still mostly empty space.  Hard to picture.  Harder to imagine.

All apologies and a thousand more, but I’m still going to slam the door.  I don’t want to see you anymore.  You’re a whole other whore.  None of this real.  Nothing I feel.  The opposite of love is indifference and I am finally indifferent.  It doesn’t matter, because matter is mostly empty space, like an excuse.  No substance other than forgetting.  I’ve lost count of the leaves in the trees, but the planes are lining up ninety seconds apart on the skyway.  Nothing is forever, not even energy as we know it. 

The truth of the matter is that I like white chocolate cake with my name scrawled in sweet icing sugar.  I have a big belly.  So there we are…word count 856.  666+190.  I wonder what the six-hundredth and sixty-sixth word was?  I should’ve paid attention.  My attention span is a short toothpick bridge.  Everything is a joke, especially this, that and the other thing, like an algebraic equation for holes, the variables are yours to tell.


Chaos at Canada’s Wonderland

May 23, 2007

We went to Canada’s Wonderland on Victoria day.  Beautiful weather with sunshine and cool breeze.  Bad day to go to Wonderland, though.  It was busy as hell.  People everywhere. 

Positive things first.  Drop Zone is a great way to get your blood flowing.  I walk off that ride and I am shaking!  Exhaling on the way was the best way to maintain control and watch the scenery.  I held my breath the first time and it hurt the organs floating around in my belly!  Vortex for speed and Top Gun for maneuvering (& speed!).  You have to sit in the front of both of these roller-coasters for the full experience. 

We were there for eight hours and managed to get on five rides.  Thank goodness we bought seasons passes, otherwise it would have been a terrible waste of $52 (each) plus parking.

Here’s the frightening thing – the rides kept breaking down.  Top Gun was down for at least 10mins of every hour.  Vortex was stopped for about 20mins and then some empty trains were sent around the track…for testing I guess.  If you’re self-destructive, such as myself, this only adds to the thrill and excitement of the ride.  However, if you are among the more cautious folk, then watching this while you wait could be very disheartening.

Here’s the irritating thing – punk ass kids kept budding into the lines & no one would ever say anything.  Second last ride, my girlfriend and I snapped.  She mentioned something to one of the Wonderland Employees (WE), who promptly called security.  The security guards were reprimanded by the miscreants’ mother and the budders were allowed to stay in the park. 

Last ride (Drop Zone), same thing happened.  This time we were with my girlfriend’s mother, who is wonderful in these situations.  She spoke out loud and adamant.  She attracted everyone’s attention, including the WEs attending the ride.  It was hilarious.  They asked her to point out the offenders, but she was hesitant.  Someone else spoke up, “You mean the CHEATERS?  You looking for the CHEATERS?”  The WEs encouraged everyone in line to BOO until the two budders left the line.  Everyone did.  These two guys had to fight through the crowd and leave the ride.  When they did, everyone cheered.

Here’s the thing – I don’t think anyone would have done anything about it.  No one spoke up until my girlfriend’s mother made a stink and the WEs proved they would do something about it.  Then people joined in.  If no one had spoken out, everyone would have taken it on the chin and walked away upset.  I don’t understand why people don’t stand up for themselves (when they are not in their cars!).

I’ve seen this so many times before.  People are agitated about some situation at work or school.  If their complaints are legitimate & justified, I will take a stand with them.  I will do this whether I stand to benefit directly or not.  I do it for the principle of fairness and the sake of a potentially good fight, plus I am not a huge fan of the status quo.  I approach the boss, the professor, or whoever and present the case.  The others are inevitably called out to stand with me, usually by the boss, professor, or whoever, and no one makes a peep.  I’m left looking like an agitator with my foot in my mouth. 

The lesson I learned from these experiences (and there are many in my past!) is to look out for myself and leave people to wage their own wars.  I pick, fight and win my own.  I’m good at it, lots of practice.