plastic people
dont bleed
or sharkcasm
would rip them to bits
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
colors
in terms of chakras, which i try to think of geographically before hippie-dippishly (burroughs' seven cities of the red night), more like living on the body... red being the broadest, the common, the everyone, the sex organs, maybe california, babies are in control, bodily communion etc... orange is like taboo, jackass, nude not naked, edu-kink-tional, fuckshitdamnbitch, food fight... yellow is like saying No and Me, but it means something for the first time (so, saying no again, establishing No). No power. yellow is opinions, personality palette, new york? or at least new yorker... green is a sensation of proportion or reestablishing postion and destination at once and without even moving a muscle... blue is moving the muscle, and removing the muscle (dropping one's guard)... indigo is pausing to consider progress/ possibilities (the scilla and caribdes?)... purple is tricky, purple is anticipating the feelings one will have upon arriving at one's destination, that is, purple is playing dead. purple is acting like what dead/alive means to an individual. purple is tricky to everyone but the individual and sometimes the individual themself, that they are this way, and not just actors on a stage, as shakespeare might say. purple is the point at which one knows they are acting and can decide which play they want to be in. "nothing is true and everything is permitted."
there should be opposites attracting here... yellow is rejecting, paring down to the bone of the individual while purple is accepting, trying on costume... red is being a baby ("everything is true and nothing is permitted."), green is nurturing a baby (the nature/nurture debate)... orange is breaking the rules and learning from punishment, blue is setting the rules and learning from their effectiveness
i tend to think that anyone can be any age at any time and in any order that they want, if they are aware that they can do it this way, or if circumstances (trauma or 'divine invitations') force them to do it in a non-traditional order, whether they are aware or not. for the most part, age is a good indication of where someone is at. for the average joe and jolene, life goes on. but some people are dawdlers, some are burning up the road. some people split in half and do both at once, which must be exhausting. i think britany spears, what i have read of her anyway, seems to be shirley temple then and elizabeth taylor now slap fighting in a sex shop. (as for me, picture a four year old mozart and any gray old wino that lives under a bridge going to a basketball game together. it is exhausting! ce la vie...)
it would be interesting if people referred to their age by color
but that would be too organic, time is much more consistent for record-keeping, even if it really isnt indicating anything.
living on the body is perpetuating the play, watching/acting. living in the body is like financing the play, renting the theatre, buying the costumes, building the sets, etc... this is a special role to fill, not for everyone. and people usually dont ask questions, unless it is in their script.
(politics is for slaves)
there should be opposites attracting here... yellow is rejecting, paring down to the bone of the individual while purple is accepting, trying on costume... red is being a baby ("everything is true and nothing is permitted."), green is nurturing a baby (the nature/nurture debate)... orange is breaking the rules and learning from punishment, blue is setting the rules and learning from their effectiveness
i tend to think that anyone can be any age at any time and in any order that they want, if they are aware that they can do it this way, or if circumstances (trauma or 'divine invitations') force them to do it in a non-traditional order, whether they are aware or not. for the most part, age is a good indication of where someone is at. for the average joe and jolene, life goes on. but some people are dawdlers, some are burning up the road. some people split in half and do both at once, which must be exhausting. i think britany spears, what i have read of her anyway, seems to be shirley temple then and elizabeth taylor now slap fighting in a sex shop. (as for me, picture a four year old mozart and any gray old wino that lives under a bridge going to a basketball game together. it is exhausting! ce la vie...)
it would be interesting if people referred to their age by color
but that would be too organic, time is much more consistent for record-keeping, even if it really isnt indicating anything.
living on the body is perpetuating the play, watching/acting. living in the body is like financing the play, renting the theatre, buying the costumes, building the sets, etc... this is a special role to fill, not for everyone. and people usually dont ask questions, unless it is in their script.
(politics is for slaves)
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
oont chick
oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick oont chick
i am glad today because i discovered louisville kentucky has an oont chick station. my friend alex calls it the rave cave. i never went to raves. like rock'n'roll and just about any other musical thing that has happened, i missed out on the drug-addled euphoria part and came in after all those people either went to jail or went into hiding. i mean, i've never done any drugs, there is a velvet rope between us.
anyway, i was bummed that i got this new car and my stupid tape player is busted. but now i can hear new things i've never heard before. i did this weird guinea pig thing at u of l once where they blind folded me and tested my physical memory sorta... anyway, they put headphones on me and asked me what i wanted to listen to and i picked daft punk. and all these daft punkish bands would play. this is like that. this is not my drug-haze rave cave, this is my blind-folded personal party.
well, my writing sucks right now because i am sitting outside qdoba on poplar level road testing the new wireless card which i know nothing about. it is just a bit cold for sitting outside typing. i was listening to a band called Milky, an oont chick band.
this blog sucks... i cant think out here. i'll fix this shit later...
oh, one thing about oont chicks in my car, as my euphoria rises, my driving ability decreases proportionately. so if you see me driving and i look like i'm having a real good time, uh, dont get too close!
i am glad today because i discovered louisville kentucky has an oont chick station. my friend alex calls it the rave cave. i never went to raves. like rock'n'roll and just about any other musical thing that has happened, i missed out on the drug-addled euphoria part and came in after all those people either went to jail or went into hiding. i mean, i've never done any drugs, there is a velvet rope between us.
anyway, i was bummed that i got this new car and my stupid tape player is busted. but now i can hear new things i've never heard before. i did this weird guinea pig thing at u of l once where they blind folded me and tested my physical memory sorta... anyway, they put headphones on me and asked me what i wanted to listen to and i picked daft punk. and all these daft punkish bands would play. this is like that. this is not my drug-haze rave cave, this is my blind-folded personal party.
well, my writing sucks right now because i am sitting outside qdoba on poplar level road testing the new wireless card which i know nothing about. it is just a bit cold for sitting outside typing. i was listening to a band called Milky, an oont chick band.
this blog sucks... i cant think out here. i'll fix this shit later...
oh, one thing about oont chicks in my car, as my euphoria rises, my driving ability decreases proportionately. so if you see me driving and i look like i'm having a real good time, uh, dont get too close!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
things...
ACTUAL TRUE ZODIAC:
ARIES = APRIL 19 - MAY 13
TAURUS = MAY 14 - JUNE 19
GEMINI = JUNE 20 - JULY 20
CANCER = JULY 21 - AUG 9
LEO = AUGUST 10 - SEPTEMBER 15
VIRGO = SEPTEMBER 16 - OCTOBER 30
LIBRA = OCTOBER 31 - NOVEMBER 22
SCORPIO = NOVEMBER 23 - NOVEMBER 29
OPHIUCHUS = NOVEMBER 30 - DECEMBER 17
SAGITTARIUS = DECEMBER 18 - JANUARY 18
CAPRICORN = JANUARY 19 - FEBRUARY 15
AQUARIUS = FEBRUARY 16 - MARCH 11
PISCES = MARCH 12 - APRIL 18
ARIES = APRIL 19 - MAY 13
TAURUS = MAY 14 - JUNE 19
GEMINI = JUNE 20 - JULY 20
CANCER = JULY 21 - AUG 9
LEO = AUGUST 10 - SEPTEMBER 15
VIRGO = SEPTEMBER 16 - OCTOBER 30
LIBRA = OCTOBER 31 - NOVEMBER 22
SCORPIO = NOVEMBER 23 - NOVEMBER 29
OPHIUCHUS = NOVEMBER 30 - DECEMBER 17
SAGITTARIUS = DECEMBER 18 - JANUARY 18
CAPRICORN = JANUARY 19 - FEBRUARY 15
AQUARIUS = FEBRUARY 16 - MARCH 11
PISCES = MARCH 12 - APRIL 18
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
whales
let's make a movie. you can be the timid marine botonist named jonas syntrecht, you can wear a fake moustache (how we gon get it to stay on underwater?), you dive every day and collect reefy things. in land scenes, you are dapper and wear a smart coat and hat, maybe smoke a pipe at the pub and discuss some made up latin words of wild-ass sea stuff, but you are shy, too shy to discuss your feelings, your main obsession besides coral reef, which is...
anyway, one day while diving for coral reefy things, you are swallowed by a whale. although you are initially shocked, you quickly realize that being swallowed by a whale was to you a bliss. that ambiguous obsession, maybe it was the warm embrace of the whale's insides. the whale's name is grace jones (no relation) and she has swallowed you because she is an aura-seeing whale and your aura looked really delicious. it turns out that she is really timid as well, more timid than even you. after a while in the whale, the honeymoon is over and you become verbally abusive to grace jones through her own stomach. and in one of your tirades you stop, this is not who you want to be, this jerk person. maybe just being in a whale is not the end all. maybe there is more to bliss than just living inside of a whale. so you go on a spiritual quest. obviously, your body doesnt go very far, it is still inside of grace jones, but in your mind you embark on a great journey. in your mind's eye, you have the jonas head and the body of a flying squirrel. (this part will be like psychedelic yellow submarine cartoons and what not.) you are a brawny flying squirrel, 6'3 177lbs. you traverse the mighty river, you explore the cave, emerging at the top of the mountain where there is a small temple. inside the temple, there is a small man and a small woman, leathered skin, smiling infectuously. they offer you some dinner, fishes with the head on, it is delicious. as you bid them farewell, they give you a puppet. you step out of their home and the mountain disintegrates, you are inside of grace jones again. at this point you realize how much money could be made from a talking whale. of course, no one understands grace jones when she speaks, even though she is speaking english (when speaking to english people of course. she is also fluent in many russian dialects, spanish, japanese, well, anywhere whales go). because whales speak at a frequency below the human range of hearing, and at a volume which could kill or paralyze anyone within a two mile radius, she thought it best to just not talk to anyone except other whales. but she found whales too overbearing or obtuse. she was a loner whale. jonas (you) can understand her because you are inside, where the voice starts, before it gets to rumble around in the whale's hugeness and get all big and deep and complicated. you can hear grace jones' intentions. intentions are wordless anyway. intentions made of words are called prayers and prayer doesnt work that way!
so you and grace jones locate an agent and move to san francisco (or somewhere) where you swim around in the bay all day, do two one-hour shows on week days, one two-hour show on saturday afternoon and sundays off. what it is, grace jones swallows a microphone and you interview her, or people will ask her questions, or the two of you will sing together, stuff like that. $100 a show plus a cut of the t-shirts, bumperstickers, etc merchandise profits. pretty sweet right?
anyway, one day while diving for coral reefy things, you are swallowed by a whale. although you are initially shocked, you quickly realize that being swallowed by a whale was to you a bliss. that ambiguous obsession, maybe it was the warm embrace of the whale's insides. the whale's name is grace jones (no relation) and she has swallowed you because she is an aura-seeing whale and your aura looked really delicious. it turns out that she is really timid as well, more timid than even you. after a while in the whale, the honeymoon is over and you become verbally abusive to grace jones through her own stomach. and in one of your tirades you stop, this is not who you want to be, this jerk person. maybe just being in a whale is not the end all. maybe there is more to bliss than just living inside of a whale. so you go on a spiritual quest. obviously, your body doesnt go very far, it is still inside of grace jones, but in your mind you embark on a great journey. in your mind's eye, you have the jonas head and the body of a flying squirrel. (this part will be like psychedelic yellow submarine cartoons and what not.) you are a brawny flying squirrel, 6'3 177lbs. you traverse the mighty river, you explore the cave, emerging at the top of the mountain where there is a small temple. inside the temple, there is a small man and a small woman, leathered skin, smiling infectuously. they offer you some dinner, fishes with the head on, it is delicious. as you bid them farewell, they give you a puppet. you step out of their home and the mountain disintegrates, you are inside of grace jones again. at this point you realize how much money could be made from a talking whale. of course, no one understands grace jones when she speaks, even though she is speaking english (when speaking to english people of course. she is also fluent in many russian dialects, spanish, japanese, well, anywhere whales go). because whales speak at a frequency below the human range of hearing, and at a volume which could kill or paralyze anyone within a two mile radius, she thought it best to just not talk to anyone except other whales. but she found whales too overbearing or obtuse. she was a loner whale. jonas (you) can understand her because you are inside, where the voice starts, before it gets to rumble around in the whale's hugeness and get all big and deep and complicated. you can hear grace jones' intentions. intentions are wordless anyway. intentions made of words are called prayers and prayer doesnt work that way!
so you and grace jones locate an agent and move to san francisco (or somewhere) where you swim around in the bay all day, do two one-hour shows on week days, one two-hour show on saturday afternoon and sundays off. what it is, grace jones swallows a microphone and you interview her, or people will ask her questions, or the two of you will sing together, stuff like that. $100 a show plus a cut of the t-shirts, bumperstickers, etc merchandise profits. pretty sweet right?
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