Sepia Now

2012-01-22T22:56:00.000-05:00

this is Toughness. she does tough things.

sophisticated lady

2012-01-22T22:51:00.001-05:00

physically, the sophisticated lady, KC? i didnt catch the spelling, was someone i met in San Francisco. she was flawless, and i dont mean that in just a superficial way, she actually wasnt so VAVOOM, which made me even more droolly. she was like vavoom or even vavoom, like she knew what was tops and what was bottoms. seemingly effortless? that is sexy to me i guess. i think i wrote this music on the amtrak from san francisco to seattle. (which takes 25 hours! i did not realize!)
but today i decided maybe the sophisticated lady was the place i met KC Kaci Casey whatever, which is Mills College. i have fantasized about attending Mills' music school since like 2002 and then i decided to go to San Francisco for my birthday (2010). somehow i didnt put the two together until i was in town bumming around, hey holy shit Mills is right over there! so i took the subway and the bus and checked the place out and she was super flawless! old and crusty like a college should be, reverberant sparkling. Kasey Kayci someone was working in the grad school admissions office and was sooooooo pleasant to be around, maybe she really is an angel or just really good at her job. again, though she is easily easy on the eyes, it was her physical presence which i found intoxicating, her presence in this already perfect place, heaven.
the school, i didnt get to talk to the dean, i didnt have an appointment or any specific questions to ask so i thought i would only try to squeeze in if he had a moment to spare. by the way, the dean is Fred Frith, if you like weird guitar, check out the Massacre record from 1981 holy dear god! if you like meditative guitar and wonderful deaf Scottish women check out Touch the Sound ... so i sat outside Frith's office mostly listening to him laugh with his students, warm laughs like bear hugs for ears, finally i got to talk to a student who had come from his office. she basically said the school isnt Julliard, you are not required to shred on an instrument or smash glass with your voice, that Mills is more concerned with how a person might think their way out of a wet paper bag, a dry paper bag, a paper bag that is on fire, a burlap bag etc... (i am not quoting her, haha) what i mean is that they are concerned with the individual who loves music, regardless of talent level, with the exception that you must have a BA (it is grad school) but not necessarily in music.
other music schools and a great deal of musicians, trained or otherwise, seem to put music up on this pedestal and you mustnt touch it unless you are pure and if you have suffered and told your family to fuck off so you can practice your scales 12 hours a day
WHICH IS COMPLETE HORSESHIT.
perhaps music is the sophisticated lady.
but i would think she would get bored up there without intereaction, how many Glen Gould's are there to talk to in the world anyway? is he even still alive, so maybe zero?
no, the sophisticated lady, in my mind, wants to mix it up. whatchu got? what kind of ideas do you have for me?
some of the ideas are good, she says, yeah, i can bend to that. some are stupid and she will say so as gently as is required.
the sophisticated lady knows what is tops and what is bottoms, dig? the sophisticated lady is COOL, you can talk to her without a tuxedo on. of course she will look devestatingly bad-ass, so you will feel awkward in jeans or the weird shit i find to wear, but whatever.

Cross Training

2012-01-11T22:10:00.001-05:00

so, an athlete guy is at a bar and he meets this chick and they do some making out and over-the-clothes et cetera, and he is really into this girl and then she bails all of a sudden, oh, kinda like Cinderella, and all he has to identify her is cross tattoo on her upper leg.
so this bothers the guy and he starts to suck at his sport, thinking about this girl.
finally his coach chews his ass and he snaps out of it and is good at his sport again.
then his team gets a new player and he really hits it off with him. after several games, they're like best friends. then one day after a game they're in the showers, he sees the cross tattoo on the guy's leg.
"hey, bro, you dont have a twin sister do you?"
"no."
"weird. i have seen that tattoo before, some chick at the bar."
"oh shit! that WAS you! i was so drunk. i knew i'd seen you somewhere before."
"yo, what?! i kissed a dude?"
"yeah, it was hot."

so then of course they cant be best friends anymore and dude sucks at his sport again.

then aliens come and abduct the whole arena and challenge the team to a game.
except that there's a laser cloud in the shower room that makes all the players imbecilic.
but the two main dudes werent in the showers with the rest, the one guy because he is having a sexual identity crisis and the other because the team asks him to shower alone after the fall-out from before.
so, the two guys who made out have to put away their beef, unintended pun, and carry the team to victory. kinda like Space Jam.
and after they win, they make out in front of everybody and the arena gasps and then cheers wildly.
then when they get back to earth, the christian right who pulls the teams' purse strings threatens to pull out, unintended pun, so the team has to let the loverdudes go.
so then as the credits roll, they are seen riding off on a donkey together and it is understood that they will travel west and establish a town for other outcast homosexual professional athletes and somehow dishing out a unique brand of mercenary justice would usually come into play. oh, and the place would be so thick with aphorisms and platitudes that your horse'd change color. i dont know how we establish that with a single shot of two dudes riding away on a donkey but that isnt my job.

widget

2012-01-06T00:32:00.000-05:00

Widget was a robot, sort of. Widget was a topless model on the internet. Widget didnt exist but got several million page views a day, mostly because her breasts were magic as shit.
No one ever noticed that she was not technically a topless robot, but more correctly a bare-breasted bottomless robot. she had no legs.
Widget did not need legs. she only needed to be propped provocatively and close to a keyboard to type strange, sexually-inviting messages. the rest handled itself, if i may flirt with pun.
One day she decided to get married. but she was blind and only knew of the world programmed for her by the collective conscious minds of internet users who were not getting laid. she did not want a collective conscious for a husband, people get married to escape their parents after all.
she randomly met a man at a party named Porno. he was Italian, she thought. this wasnt true, but she is not a thinkly robot after all. Porno was an original thinker, thought Widget, and his penis was very kind to her, his penis's name was Dragonfly. she and Dragonfly talked for a very long time after Porno fell asleep, having overdone the Chardonnay-echinacea-peyote bombs he made for them. Widget thought Dragonfly, though not as business savvy as Porno, to be much more evolved spiritually. the two of them spoke for quite some time about the meaning of love, the languages of affection, favorite movies, what to do about recurring indigestion, etc...
Finally, Widget got up the nerve and asked Dragonfly to leave Porno and elope with her.
Dragonfly blushed, as only a penis can, and said, though he would love nothing more than to marry a semi-humanoid fem-bot with amazing tits, he was happily ensconced in a virulent sex-slave operation with Porno. they would, he explained to her, abscond with some sexy-ish youngly human thing and film them... dying... spiritually. then Dragonfly would come in at the very end and finish the job.
it was very satisfying work, he said.
well, she could understand that. truth be told, she hadnt planned on giving up her work either. she felt very strongly about the merits of showing her titties to sex-mongers and under-aged children. "My God, my country, my titties!," she was always saying.
after a bit of an awkward moment, Porno woke up stammering violently. seeing Widget there, he immediately tried to grope her body, thinking she was the 10 foot caterpillar from his peyote vision which he had fallen in love with.
"Cassandraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!," he shouted at her repeatedly, in between what sounded like possibly, "wizards have knobby knees, i can stoke the fire with my muscle whip. are you toking my serious sleeve?"
this was her cue. Widget retired for the evening, dejected.
the following day, for whatever reason, she decided to wear a hand-made scarf into which was knit, synchronously enough, Cassandraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! she couldnt remember where she'd gotten it. anyway, as she was typing away, enticing the unemployed and self-employed, those with a locking office door, occasionally the scarf would pass in front of her nipple, momentarily obscuring it.
this drove everyone into a far-out frenzy of masturbatory abundance. her already sizable page view count doubled and then tripled. for the moment she was happy.
unfortunately, all the new viewers insisted upon calling her Cassandraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!
some of her most devoted fans would rush to her aide, correcting the newbs, but it was to no avail. there is no reasoning with someone consumed in self-carnal-amplification.
crushed, inconsolable, she donated her body to a local Bukkake temple, a really nice, chill one, she had heard. then she left her body through some obscure trans-temporal mirror virus which Dragonfly had taught her about.
she was very happy in her new life. she had found fulfillment nude-hosting infomercials for food processors and other domestic gewgaw on the peer-reviewed adults with master's degrees adult film channel Spank Thesis.
Dragonfly eventually left Porno and found happiness doing puppet shows at the county fair.
Porno made 8 billion dollars one week, bought entirely too much peyote and dissolved into binary code.
Cassandraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! did not fair well. she was unable to retain Porno's heart and fell to a life of prostitution and ambiguity. one day she was cut in half and forced to mate with her other side. the resulting child would go on to become dictator of some third world island country. while he was kind enough to put his mother up in his estate, the isolation drove her mad. the constant presence of guns made her paranoid. the over-indulgent diet made her constipated. she even missed her days of prostitution compared with what she had come to call reality.
eventually, she tried to have an affair with her son's glandular warfare technician, but he was violently averse to heterosexual sentiment and exploded, bodily, as soon as she removed her blouse.
unaware of his condition, thinking herself hideous enough to induce explosions in a young able-bodied man, she fled the castle and the third world island country she had called home for 34 years.
she ate some leaves, just any ole leaves, not gourmet leaves. the fiber therein created the most glorious defecation she had ever experienced! and then she felt a tingling inside...
she recognized within herself a powerful need to be hidden...
it wasnt long before she emerged... a beautiful butterfly!
it had taken her entire life, but she had realized herself... a butterfly!
no more did she long for Porno,
only to flap her wings against the summer sun and lap nectar from beautiful blossoms and get eaten by a frog.

2012-01-05T22:58:00.003-05:00

what i was saying about fame being a beautiful woman...

2012-01-01T13:29:00.002-05:00

maybe i meant that these are things that one cannot have.
well, not just beautiful women but all humans, cannot be had, at least not happily, although some people are happier (superficially) when they are told what to do and be, but...

so then, the thing to do is to get the fuck out of the way sufficiently to leave room for these things to have themselves through yourself., provide them passage...

i guess it is like being a channel, it is difficult, one must notch themselves so that this other body may pass through. one must never close one's arms around the other body, that is not at all what a good channel does...
and usually, one must be more than one channel at once.
in music, say, one must channel music and success at the same time, not easy
but it must be done like it is the easiest thing in the world.

likewise, in the classic scenario, one must be 'the man' for this beautiful woman while also being 'a man' with everyone else.

even being a dad i have found this. i have to be a dad, which is a totally new thing from being myself, but i also have to be myself or i go nuts.

and really, i think people should pursue things like this. people should find things which pull them out of static existence and into dynamic dialogue, beautiful women, beautiful babies, beautiful art, beautiful lives, etc...

one last thing, what i said about the over-enthusiastic kid pissing off the old housecat,
listen to this from Burroughs:
"he knows the lost art of turning an animal into a familiar. the touch must be very brave and very gentle. he can feel his Ki fill his lost hand and the animal turns, its back arched under the phantom touch. if the touch fails, the animal may attack like a demon from Hell. only those who can be without fear can make a familiar. and Joe has nothing left to fear."
the character's name in this book is Joe and he is missing some parts, replaced with bionic parts. he is sometimes called Joe the dead.
it is my assumption that he is a time traveler. not that Burroughs troubles himself too much with making the plot transparent, which i like. also Joe is a Natural Outlaw, meaning he has spent many many decades and centuries shape-shifting and identity swapping in order to create a mule that can give birth, because a mule is a hybrid of horse and donkey. and hybrids are naturally sterile.
the book is called Western Lands, i think it was his last novel.

i am frozen milk man

2011-12-24T23:08:00.000-05:00

the things i can do...
wouldnt register
the things i do
are always repeated
in crystals
i cant hear
for all the noise
i can silence it
with music
the whole universe
hole
the whole hole
half crazy
caring
on a dare
i'd share a wing
shear a wing
and fall
faster
ultimate
repeat
faster
the universe is dead
killed by the acceleration of gravity
which does not allow anything to repeat
so what is in crystals
holes?
half holes
with the tops off

what's in the bottom of the half hole?
u r
u r n
urine
milk, which sustains us
urine, or ether
which suspends us
frozen
you are in
frozen to
frozen too
crystalized right to the breast
wurm-hole birthed
to a popsicle mama
Mother Nature
skipping at 33 1/3 and 45
and 78
the needle to a nub
n u b
in you be
you are in
snuffed out like a sound
where are you gonna go?
back to when...
yeah, you'll be able to move
but you wont be able to stop
ok
you'll be able to stop
but you wont be able to start.
so when are you gonna go?
here
where i have choices
free will
but i'm not
i carry this cage
i suppose it is empty
but satisfied with being carried
where could i set it down?
it is my spinal cord
then,
under my bones
in a box
and i'm dead
then where can i go?
back to the ocean
where we wont need our spinal cord
can i bring it with me?
yes
but no one will love you
do i need love?
no
but then no one can use you
do i need to be used?
no
so, what if no one uses me?
then you and your free will
live forever

without love?
yes
uselessly?
yes
do i need my spinal cord?
right now, yes
do i need love and purpose?
yes
will i know the ocean?
no
can the ocean be known?
no
is the ocean real?
no
is death wet?
yes, like a century
like a sentry?
um, yes

esoteric astrology crap

2011-12-14T04:44:00.004-05:00

ac - 23degrees 0'0'' Virgo september 16, 1979 7:21am
sun 13degrees 46'15'' Taurus may4, 1979 4:20pm
moon - 20degrees 57'57'' Leo august 14, 1979 4:15am

mercury 20degrees 16'30'' Aries april9, 1980 7:01pm
venus 14degrees 4'52'' Aries april3, 1980 11:51pm
mars 21degrees 25'19'' Aries april10, 1980 11:04pm
jupiter 1degree 22'52'' Leo july24, 1979 5:30pm
saturn 7degrees 5'45'' Virgo august30, 1979 10:07pm
uranus 19degrees 12'49'' Scorpio november12, 1979 12:12am
neptune 20degrees 1'57'' Sagittarius december12, 1979 11:11am
pluto 17degrees 8'12'' Libra october10, 1979 9:24pm
n.node 15degrees 44'45'' Virgo september8, 1979 8:26pm
chiron 9degrees 40'2'' Taurus april29, 1980 4:45pm

maybe i have part of your riddle

2011-12-13T11:12:00.003-05:00

i think that what you want to do is diamettically opposed to what you want to get.
i dont know why that is, but from my point of observation, the things you want to do are, well, childish. and the things you want to get are very mature.
which is not to say that childishness and maturity are diametrically opposed, but maybe they are...

it is more like:
well, let's say that you want higher truth, from god aliens love science what have you; but you go about it in the lowest way, like crudeness, indiscipline, or rather, i would say you are selectively disciplined. you certainly buckle down when you feel like it, but only in ways and on topics that appeal to you, which is rather normal, but, if what you are studying isnt normal, then your approach is all wrong. see what i mean?
this isnt college, you cant cram for the exam. the exam is right now and the next right now and every right now you will ever experience. you cannot be ahead of the class because you are the class and you are the professor. you cannot look ahead to the next exam because you havent written it yet.
i wont belabor this to the point of hippyishness...

so, the higher way to study high subjects, do everything in THEIR time.*

in other words, you do what you NEED to do to get what you want

or else

you do what you WANT to do and get what you need

but i must say, Nina at 3 almost 4 is at the stage of doing what she wants to do and getting what she needs and she is really lucky that i am not a spanker.
you might have a violent god, so i think you want to stay under the radar, right?

what you want/what you want to get is WORK
no one wants a job. well, no one that i want to know anyway. jobs suck! literally, they suck us dry and leave only the crusty MTV VH1 CBS sit-com for boring adults bullshit
our whole society is a system to fill sucked people back up with something filling.
we are a nation of eclairs!
we are a people of absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever!
and it is because we have jobs, to make MONEY to buy BULLSHIT because we NEED to

no

what we need is work
Joe has work to do, i have work to do, Kylie has work to do, Curt and Anita have work to do
i dont want to know anyone who doesnt want to do their work.

to not want to do one's work is like renouncing one's humanity.
i dont want to be around when those people get what they need!

i cant say that work is fun, because it isnt play, it is work

music
i rarely play music
well, not true, i play music lately because i am not in position to work on anything
but i prefer to work on music
and typically i have worked alone and played with others but i'd much rather play alone and work on music with others, but it is hard to find other people, specifically musicians who want to do their work.
this is a complete shit-town for finding people doing their work.
people think this city is a free pass town.
not true, there are humans here, so there is work to do.
forget that, there is MATTER here, so there is work.

how can anyone not want to work? your work is YOU! all you have to do is be the real YOU that IS your work!
that is all we ever have to do in our entire lives. just be who we are 100% of the time.

that this isnt totally obvious is utterly mind-blowing to me!

that we dont operate this way because it is too hard?
really?!?!?!?!
so what we have is better?
what we have makes me suicidal. this is an abomination.

i think there's something about me, i see people at work. i approach them as if they are at work, i talk about things that we would talk about if we were at work. but it is some kind of trick of light, and then i get the real glimpse, that people's faces are screwed up, like what is this guy talking about? like, i was talking to a them they do not know or have rejected altogether.
i cannot deal with the dissonance between the people i see and the people who are around.
does that make sense?
when i was a substitute teacher, i could feel people changing, dying in their own still living skin... kids, 10 years old and dead already... and of course it was horrid!
some days were worse than others, sometimes i would come home and sleep the rest of the day.
i am not trying to say i am at all special, i dont see myself doing anything great in this vision world.
in fact, because i am in this horrid world, maybe my work merely consists of enduring this dissonance

having played music, i know that i need not even wait or hope that the dissonance will resolve to a major chord, it could just fade out
i have been listening to much Scott Walker, haha

art:
art is not an end, nor is it an act. well, ok it is sometimes like the paperwork.
we do the work and then we have to document it somewhere and file it away.
other times, our art is practice, a simulation of a moment we will have to do perfectly later. i think most of what i do is like that.
i feel like fatherhood up to this point has been the real moment i practiced for when i was playing music.

*the higher way to study high subjects, do everything in THEIR time.*
truth is the structure in which we do our work. how you might go to a specific building in a specific room at a specific desk and do your work. truth is your work area.
you sell your time. your time is worthless to you. rather, rest is important, work is important and play is important.
so, maybe work and play is spending time and rest is saving time.

but your time is worthless outside of the context of work. rest and play is non-work, thus they are in the work family. work is not non-play or non-rest. play and rest are non-work and it flows in that direction.

the way your time is spent by the organization, that is the owner/operator of the structure we are calling truth/ your work area, is not your concern. which is not to say that you needn't or oughtn't concern yourself, in fact, if you do, that is how you get a promotion, just like the job world. but just like the job world, you are an observer, you do not make policy. you advance through observation, not through force of will.
i think that in this analogous realm, excessive force of will gets you decapitated. your ego stinks like a skinned skunk.

observe, understand, be ready to account for yourself, be ready to instill confidence in those to whom you must answer, be ready to relieve them of some aspect of their responsibility, be ready to shoulder a heavier workload, and most importantly, continue doing what got you the promotion in the first place.
of course, seeking a promotion is not necessary, if one does not feel the call.

doing the work is necessary, doing more work is not necessary, until it is. then, not doing more work is not doing the work at all...

i hear that the Johnsons had a baby mrs. murphy, is that true?

2011-12-13T03:32:00.002-05:00

mrs. murphy couldnt walk yet
so we hooked her up to a pony
the fastest pony
named Skleret, for some reason
why the Johnsons didnt have a full-grown mrs. murphy
why do you ask questions like that?
god you are dumb.
well i was just...
i hear that the pope gave Agnelinas her tattoo
is that true?
no you lame-brain, the pope is a man
no but...
shut-up
Skleret and wee mrs. murphy
went a-jog jog jogging up the cewly path
towards the marling waldrup which reblarnished her one true love
unbequeathed stevie nettlescape
who was married to the whore of Marling Street
until she was eaten by butterflies
buttcheeks first
Stevie! o love
yes my wee little scrim?
o would you care for some exercise this morning?
no.
i mean yes.
i mean not really, but if you want me to walk with you that sounds good.
um, splendid Stevie.
Skleret has my bags, inside you will find something which will delight you
another bauble perhaps?
not quite hardly my lovelance
you will find a signed document
i have purchased you. you are my slave
you may now impeach my batting without reservation!
but... your slave?
whereupon Stevie Nettlescape threw himself bodily
into a 100 gallon vat of honey and eventually died.
likewise, Skleret,
who had been up to that point
unaware of the servile role he played in the life of mrs. murphy,
thinking the two of them were more like chums
and he being the more able-bodied, why naturally he'd...
but, a... servant?
why, the pony simply could not endure
tossing himself headlong into a 100 gallon vat of molasses
which were sold anyway, except for the bits with horse in
i hear that mr. klow'winko is a cleptomaniac
is that true?
no but i will tell you who is... ronald reagan
still havent found my grandfather's WWII pilot's club ring
i know it is in hock somewhere in East Village or Cobalt City
why i would let a politician alone in my house...
i can see you right now
forgetting my address
lying to your limo-driver
circle the block
circle the block
yeah, this looks familiar
maybe it's that one
no, they didnt have a cat
no, we dont have a cat
we have a fucking pony
or we did
fuck your recession assclown

boys girls women and men

2011-07-30T07:25:00.000-04:00

i had a thought once that you can know if you are talking to a boy or man if you can know if you are talking to a penis or a person with a penis.
sadly, many penises never realize that they are attatched to a man.
gladly, many industries boom when penises grow up and get jobs and have disposable income.

i dont know if this analogy applies to girls women and their parts, but it probably does.

that was vague so i devised a test, a boy vs. man test
obviously, it is not fool proof, virtually nothing is...

but to determine boy or man... do something/say something completely bewildering
like in Paranormal Activity where ole girl is like, yeah i've had encounters with a demon since i was 8

i have been observing the kids around and i have noticed that boys have to destroy things, whether they like them or not. "what an awesome ant hill", *stomp, goes the mindset...

so if you do/say something bewildering to a boy, he will rage against it. this will be more pronounced in some.
a man will pause and try to understand what has just occured

likewise, it seems like to test girl or woman, do/say something that makes complete and utter sense
i am not saying that females are illogical, in fact i AM saying that logic is illogical, or at least restricted to the 'intelligent', a self-satisfying concept i think...
but do/say something that is completely from the heart and genuine and gauge the response. it doesnt take a genius to make sense, i mean, no it does actually, but not a brainiac. living and breathing love is pure genious. living and breathing anything is kind of a miracle, right?

so, girls rage against pure love? hmmm.....
maybe, i mean, pure love, possibly...
unconditional love...

i will say that boys, although taught to not be a sissy, are allowed to love deeper, without fear, except fear of being a sissy. boys are very affectionate, when not destroying things.
ah frustration!! haha

the key thing is that boys are men are both highly sexual creatures and 95% of their existence is sexual. of the remaining 5%, prolly 4% is some other biological need. and of the remaining 1%, half of that is nonsexual affection for everyone else and the other half is i dunno, fear of death? i say sexual, i mean permeable.
i exagerate?
the thing is that boys want to fuck you and men want to lay with you.
to get almost crude about it, boys want to destroy your vagina and you for having one (while at times being completely affectionate?!), and men want to understand it. (which is a little gross? but beautiful almost?)

i cant say for myself what i am, i think all humans are boys girls women and men all at once but one or two much more than the others.

hair

2011-06-21T10:53:00.000-04:00

is like...
external hard drive

Sapat

2011-06-14T22:31:00.001-04:00

Sapat was formed in 1921 by a tribe of nomadic Inuits who were bored one day waiting for the massive sea mammal they had just harpooned to die. they removed some whiskers from its still thrashing face and learned that by applying pressure to one end with a foot against the ground and pulling the whisker taught with one hand whilst plucking it with free hand, they could approximate a limited scale of notes to accompany the poems they had been composing about impregnating their wives.
soon, the sea mammal caught a second wind and ate half the newly formed band. luckily, it only ate the untalented members.
the rest of the band took this as a sign and they promptly skipped town as fast as they could skip. while it took them a while to adjust to the humidity and racism, they eventually settled in to a comfortable life in Louisville, KY.
today, almost half of the uneaten half of the original band still exists and more or less functions as a unit. occasionally they write a new song but they soon forget it as severe senile dementia has set in, so what you hear on record and stage is more or less what they played that fateful day with the whiskers of that great beast.
incidentally, Sapat means "hurry the fuck up and die, i'm hungry!" and traditionally was pronounced in one's grumpiest possible voice.

useful

2011-06-14T17:29:00.000-04:00

you cant design sweat
but you can cry on cue

rexetive bro, kink

2011-06-14T16:43:00.001-04:00

if you have eyeballs, then i will ride with you

nothing really

2008-11-07T16:48:00.000-05:00

i think i need to spend more daytime by myself. i think, maybe i dont know how to be around people...
i'm working on a 7 or 8 hour mp3CD to put in my first release on Slobberkiss Intl records. a 12"vinyl called Yoga with Scissors.the mp3CD is all the stuff i worked on in my room when i had no friends, or maybe i should say, when i wasnt seeing much of my friends.going back through this stuff, i feel so prolific!
i dont know how to feel about how much i like being alone working on stuff. i really really like it! maybe i can reevaluate how i feel with people around, but not turn into a monster. i like being alone in a crowd, like friday when i went to parliament funkadelic by myself, but that kind of feeling doesnt work with my daughter. but she is so real. i love just sitting next to her. she doesnt have the adult filters yet. maybe they are called motives.
i dunno, this isnt what i wanted to write about, this isnt really coming together.
i remember one thing i wanted to write about, but i think i'll chicken out. i was going to write about people who dont know what they want, but i wont get any more specific than that.
maybe what is wrong with me is that i always know what i want but i dont ask for it, or i dont ask the right people or i ask the right people but they cant hear or understand me.maybe this is what i need to learn from nina. when she is happy or unhappy, i know it. is it possible to be an adult with a clear head? does sobriety exist?
maybe what is confusing is when someone knows what they want and someone else doesnt know themselves. or when someone wants something from someone else... duh.
i'm bored with potential. but patience is important too. i think i am more of a kinetic person. maybe it is my introversion which makes me kinetic. my horoscope shape says i only achieve my goals with cooperation of others. seems like i have been set up by the stars to have to learn something! oh dastardly thingies!
ok, i'll unchicken out. i only live once, yeah?
boy this place plays shitty 80s music!
uh, what i was going to write was that, as a 29 year old, i detest the terms boyfriend/girlfriend. it seems so casual. this is tied again to my introversion, but i struggle to be casual with people, unless i decide to feel that way ahead of time.when i am attracted to a person, and i dont just mean a pretty girl, i might mean a favorite author or a movie character, i go way overboard. i guess my imagination could use some discipline.i know i could use discipline in lots of areas and maybe that is why i didnt just indulge my hermit when i was 25, when i really wanted to. maybe it was why i mysteriously didnt get that job at u of l when i was 24. maybe i would have disappeared into my self. that is no way to be a human.
but casual and safe doesnt work for me either.
i remember what i wanted to write about. i think i am the most creative person i know. i'm not sure, but i think it might be true. maybe dane is more creative than me. i dont mean to sound vain, i dont mean that i am the most talented person alive, i just mean that i place creativity higher on my list of priorities than anyone i know. i put art-making above comfort and security. i put nina at the same level as creativity, because in my mind, if i cannot tell her how i feel, i can only tell her how i want her to feel about me. which would be total bullshit! plus, if i am balancing my self and my fatherly self, i can grow with her. i hope i can keep up. i hope i can see her as a human when she is a teenager and forgetting how, or something like that.
i refuse to be 30 and have a 'girlfriend', i think i am only going to get more intense. the path towards self-love gets narrow, too narrow for casual people and motives.
when i was 25 i knew self-love and had myself as a witness. now when i find it again, i will have nina as a witness, plus whoever wants to be there with me.that is kind of like growth or i dont know what exactly. analogous to this life, leaving home to go to work, coming back home. leaving again the next day, getting paid, coming home. this is just work, life is work and play is timeless.

kiss yourself

sci fi

2008-07-06T01:42:00.000-04:00

1 car for every 15 people should be enough. roomier but less gassy? slower? who's in a hurry?communism could work fine for groups of up to one hundred, but maybe we could work on a system of 'porous' class for thousands and millions. we dont need a middle class, in fact, maybe it is the middle class whose buffer is what blinds us, isolates us. i imagine a system in which big thinkers have all the resouces and small thinkers use all the resources.who is a big thinker? a big thinker is someone who can step outside of their shell, abandon their personal belief and habits, discard their security blanket and consider another human being's frailty. the more compassion, the more vision one has, the more money/resource they are given access to for sharing. ideally, everyone could make their own way, decide what they need for themself and how much, but in a world of one thousand, one million, one billion, perhaps this is too much to expect.a self-server can sustain themselves. why shouldnt a public servant have enough to go around?this seems to be exactly what we do have, or are moving toward, the elimination of the middle class, the middle class demoting to lower class, a two class state. but the key difference is that a public servant is a public person. there are no mansions for a family of three. a mansion with 120 rooms would house at least one hundred people. maybe the 'owner' has the best room, but there are no fences. there are no exclusive clubs, there are no ghettoes for the poor and real estate for the rich.a rich person has the understanding that they are a public servant. and someone who has no desire or concept to serve is alotted very little resource. the rich servant is given a meal too plentiful for themselves alone, the most selfish are merely given seeds to plant, baby animals to raise. this sounds impossible, but i think it would be easy to switch to this system if one compassionate person were given a voice.the change must happen at the very top, people you have not met, systems you were not aware of volunteer to expire. someone breathes love into the globe and it spreads like beautiful crystals.the change must simultaneously happen at the bottom. the most selfish people realize they have very little to offer the world, very little to give, and they should have in equal proportion to what they give.the change also happens in the middle, people accepting their own unique place in a world of over a billion unique people. decide how many of 7 or 8 billion unique things they can accomodate and then demand that their lifestyle reflect that value.things are not like this.there is not enough energy at the top to overcome human doubt. is this what seperates man from beast? the notion of doubt? or the notion of notion? with allignment of energy, efficient use of human energy, doubt could be propellant rather than imprisoning. to accept doubt into a series of harmonious days, aka a human life, is the blurry line between impossible and commonplace.for one person to agree with themself creates enough energy for at least two people to share. for two people to agree, even to agree to disagree, creates enough energy for four or more people to share. so, perhaps i propose a world full of communist batteries which power the spiritual machine of humanity. the communists have all the wealth to share amongst themselves and too much to keep much of. it is dangerous to keep, it is suffocating to keep too much.so, the key to getting rich, acquiring wealth is to find 100 people to agree with.again, this mirrors the 'real' world, but like a mirror, things are identical but reversed. in this scenario, the wealthy must share with people who cant agree with them in order to survive.somehow this fuels the unique-ness which is already self-evident.the uniqu-ness becomes easier to understand, disagreements become easier to swallow, men and women become more like humans and humans. human becomes a pleasant word again, as in, squirrels trust us again etc...the more people can accept one another, the closer together they can live, so we stop gobbling up the surface of the planet with suburbs.should we give selfish people seeds and call them farmers? this is a risky move, but trust is the catalyst here. the transformation of seeds to crops/food=the transformation of personal habits/self-knowledge to observation of earth habits/ green thumb? i hope so
for a city of one million, there are 100 communists agreeing or agreeing to disagree for their sustenance. there is not a mayor, there are 100 mayors and they live in the 120 room house and anyone can hang out there. the mayors' ears are always open.there are buses for travel or taxis with global positioning system that can find your cell phone and of course, taxis are much cheaper. trucks and cars can be rented, but it is cheaper to call taxis or ride the bus.
the physical world will change itself whether we like it or not. the mental world is not concrete. it is our spiritual world that is poisoned. it is not enough to change one's mind. it is not even necesarry. perhaps it is not even possible to change one's mind since it was not ever truly fixed in one state. but a heart puts down roots. it is not the fault of the heart if the ground is or becomes unhealthy, but it necesary to leave ruined ground behind.

2008-01-23T11:39:00.000-05:00

i think peace on earth is inevitable, just like war on earth was inevitable, but how it is achieved... i think it would be simultaneously dubious and pure. one camp of dubious people with peaceful intentions, and peace would get a bad name, like jesus has got a bad rap these days, because it has been spun until the begining phrase and the end phrase are both wrapped up deep inside, and of course the wrapping paper on the outside is crazy ass tv christians and hell and heaven and tithes and you know the rest. i guess that what i mean is that there will be people who get it, a lot of people who dont, and among those who get it, some will be dubious, and some wont.what i mean to say is that peace on earth wont be nirvana, it will simply be a period on earth when war is unprofitable. or, rather, peace is much more profitable. and yeah, drugs and technology would really help.
of course, there are always people who are peaceful, whether it is trendy or not. and there are people who are beligerent, even if evveryone thinks they are an asshole and they cant even get laid. beligerent is as beligerent does, vice versa.
as for a nirvana/valhalla/heaven/what-have-you on earth, in which everyone gets it, or there is no longer anything to 'get' or lack, i guess that would be a quantum leap (if i am using the word correctly) and it could happen at anytime for any reason or for no reason and i dont think this is a god matter at all, i think this is a matter matter, if it is possible, then it is essentially alive and playing by its own rules, its own free will, it has to want to leap, and then do it. what ever i mean by it, or what ever i mean by we. i dont think any terms i can apply to what ever it is i am trying to say would apply to such a novel experience. but i can throw some potential bullshit at you! basically, the other day, i figured out what born again means, it is not a baptism, it is not a promise to the preacher, it is not even a promise to the self, it is not a promise at all. it is not a commitment to any matter. born again is a state in which it is impossible to make action outside the... flow? the realm of love, love being the interconnectivity of anything and everything and nothing as well. which is impossible to ignore, which means that to achieve it, the impossible, hateful living, would feel amazing and 'right' like finishing a marathon or something, perhaps that is why we persist in this tasty lifestyle of earth instead of the tasty lifestyle of heaven. really, i think that the problem is that they are both equally tasty. heaven on earth is not any better than this at all, except that one is not required to learn suffering. i think, if we as humans had not learned suffering, we would not do it everyday. and that is why 'born again' is the term, because children do not want to suffer. babies crying can be translated as "this is wack! my stomach hurts! what is going on?" as people grow up, as they get further from their child state, they get better at suffering. yay them, right? a world full of children would be no better than a world of sufferers and young suffering apprentices, i guess because humans are good at suffering. maybe we forget we are good at not suffering too. we forget how to cry, express, expel, we start to absorb. obviously, this creates an imbalance. maybe this is the need for high volume rock and roll, expel a lot at once, maybe this is why it sounds like crucifixtion, it is so much suffering leaving the body at once...born again, starting a new child state, sort of, basically doing lovely things. basically, not breaking the golden rule. love is leaving the house. anyone can love inanimate walls, because their story is relatively simple to grasp, and one can imagine their purpose is to serve them, shield them, keep them safe, it is thus, easy to love one's own walls, but love... capital L LOVE is what is outside. what does this tree mean to me? what does this pizza delivery guy mean to me? they mean everything to me, and without them, i would not be, and without me, they would not be.
to live in hate, is to take measured calculated steps to ignore or forget this, on purpose, no excuses. to not see oneself in any thing and everything is ignorant.
hateful living, ignorance is not 'bad' it is a skill. it can be elevated to an art. it can be applauded, if one is so inclined. maybe a lovely person would applaud someone's effort to elevate any aspect of themself to art. for one elevating themself, who is a part of me, is them elevating me. or at least a part of me. lastly, the difference between love and almost love is the difference between knowledge and understanding.
knowledge is a fact, is written, is common, is solid. understanding is more like a commitment to study, like a surfer does not own a wave, they own a board on which to enjoy a wave. maybe knowledge is the board and love is the wave. of course a wave happens only once, and its nature is hardly predictable, but we can study waves as a whole, but to predict the nature of one wave rising out of the ocean, the time of its lifespan, its height, etc... would be silly. to predict that waves will probably be happening off the coast of hawaii today would be less silly than that there will be good surfing in the ohio river today, etc...
a lovely person is surfing... right now, always! a lovely person does not want to surf, "like maybe later, after work, but not too late, american idol comes on at 9". a lovely person is wet wet wet, in the water, if you shake their hand, you will have a wet hand. one must make the effort to stay dry, wipe off one's hand.
the surfboard is the self. waves are dangerous, water is dangerous, currents, undercurrents are dangerous. we are not fish or sea turtles or gulls, we are humans, anyone able to read this i mean. thus, we are not able to be as close to the ocean. we have a self, a board as a tool for study. thus, perhaps we are suffering already, without doing it to ourselves. like someone at work with pictures of their children on their desk. while we are alive like this, like surfers and not ocean beings, we are sacrificing our child-person or whatever it is, we are away from our place in the love organism so that we may do work. and apparently, this work is to study love.
and what will we find? and how long will we need to look?
...these bodies are our labcoats and these minds are our surfboards...
when my friend david died, i told myself he was going to look at the map (which is a different lengthy tome of its own), but maybe a better analogy is that he was clocking out and going home for the day.

to tie this up in a nice package, maybe world peace could be like when i worked at wild oats and it was bought by whole foods. everyone was offered a new job, or a severance package. (i took the job but quit soon after.) perhaps, one day we will all be relieved of our duty to study love and offered a new job. perhaps, like my move from one grocery store to another, it will be a similar job.
OOH!! perhaps we are all actually studying HATE! and we will be done soon and asked to study love! ok. but it will be a lot like this, some will elect to do something new. work for their parents company or something...

peace dawgs

where are we?

2008-01-10T11:38:00.000-05:00

i can watch youtube now, but tv is more fun. somehow it retains a certain innocence i find lacking from the internet.
ok, tv is as corrupt and manipulative as maybe anything that has ever been, and that is human. but, tv was something utterly new. well, radio was something utterly new and tv was like offspring or spouse. i mean, radio and tv changed the rules of entertainment, shrank the world (metaphysically and physically), etc... radio and tv put the world into a box, allowed for the muscles in the neck to lock into one place*, allowed the muscles in the brain to lock onto one object, sight and stimulation emanate from the single source etc... there were rules and someone is in charge and some people look like tv or some bands sound like radio and somehow everyone knew what was tv-able or not. what i mean is that tv was simple, entertainment, self-contained, self-sufficient...
the internet, i dont know about the internet.
in burroughs' city of the red night, the rule of first city is: everything is true and nothing is permitted. the rule of the last city (there are seven): nothing is true and everything is permitted.
what i dont like about the internet is that it never shuts off. i have an email address, i cant get my own apartment, but i can get a free internet mailing address, lots of 'em. the internet is the new real world. i have to get on the internet to get a job now. i have to get on the internet to see how much money i have. i dont know if i am ready, but of course there is no time for hesitation. i wonder if the internet will ever be taxed, if the availability of addresses and sites and virtual space is finite. is anything infinite? could something become finite or wouldnt it have to have been infinite forever, no beginning no end. something created can be destroyed, and before it is destroyed it can be bought and sold.
did someone create the internet or did we find it flowing like a river under a patch of the tangible world....
this is what makes me hesitate. i guess i dont mind the internet if it is infinite. is life nothing but a quest for entertainment?
i definitely think the internet is a poor substitute for telepathy.
oh wait, as i remember math class, something can start at a point and move on to infinity. but i think it has to move in the opposite direction in equal fashion. is this a parabola?
so, we can create the internet, the infinite; but what we gain in access to information, we lose in ability to ask questions? what we gain in access to collective consciousness, we lose in actual attention spans. what we gain in convenience, we lose in skill. what we gain in communication, we lose in trust. that is the killer to me.
i'm tired of communicating with people who dont trust me.
in summary, this is why i said tv is more innocent, because i can trust it. i can trust it to be corrupt, and deal with that. or i can trust that it just wants to entertain me, and i can turn it off when i want to.maybe the internet is just young, maybe we will settle on rules together or escape from all the rules and expectations, maybe the internet will make more sense in a slightly altered society, one with different goals than what we have now. in that sense, maybe the internet is the altruistic wizard of oz, or worse than caligula. i dunno, it's more aggressive than tv is all i'm sayin.
*i put the asterisk next to the part about neck muscles cuz i forgot how stiff my neck gets when i read a book all night. to that i would say radio and tv was a new literacy and the internet is certainly a new literacy. and i dont just mean peopel who cant spel oR wHo SeEm to LikE caPitLiZinG oNly CerTaiN letTeRs, but that is really important too. the internet is a book writing itself and there seems to be no polite way to decline one's own inclusion.

well, about the virtual life the internet leads, about this virtual camel we have all come to ride or walk alongside of or avoid like the plague, it asks direct questions, it makes direct links. tv is more like detective work, tv is just more work. the internet says things like, "people who bought mc hammer please hammer dont hurt 'em also bought dj jazzy jeff and the fresh prince parents just dont understand" or "other videos containing 'crusty bellybutton sprinkle' are...". maybe the internet knows we are still sucking our thumbs at this point in digital existence, it needs to talk... real... slow. or maybe the internet isnt virtually alive and we are really getting dumb. but i think we are just in an infant stage of some kind.
in many ways, things have sped up from, say 1950 or 1850 or 1750, people on tv say information doubles everyday. but if we are getting dumb, what good is it? if we are actually in an infant stage, as humanity, it would make sense that information would double everyday, just as it does for a child. this is not new information that didnt exist before, this is just a new wrinkle in the brain. everyday, someone learns that 2 is after 1 and h is after g, of course, they have been that way for quite sometime, but it remains mysterious to anyone who has never encountered the alphabet.
people in 1950, 1850, 1750, 1650, 5000bc, i'm pretty sure humans grow at the same rate. i'm pretty sure it has been a while and will be a while yet when a person is full grown at age 7 or not until age 53. i mean 18 year olds have been roughly the same size for hundreds or thousands or hundreds of thousands of years. i think people have probably even learned new things the same way for this long. only the world has changed. although we have changed the world, humans have changed the world, i feel like the world has changed itself so much more. so much more that our changes are miniscule; maybe, the mass of humanity compared to the mass of the planet. since a time when humans have been similar to one another.

and to that i would say that maybe we are becoming dissimilar to one another, which would mark the beginning of the end of humanity and the transition to something else. but i really dont think we are becoming dissimilar. i think a real artificial telepathy is in utero. one without the advantage of trust, substituting, uh... i dont know what, for trust... money? money is universal, something universal, something completely devoid of coincidence.
i could see the place becoming split between trusters and... and... the faithless (but one doesnt need faith when no room is left for chance). but the thing is, nothing would change, not really, only the faces behind the mask, which arent seen anyway...
whereas now we have some rich people but then we have old money. old money runs the world. rich people aint shit. really! poor people are better off than rich people except that poor people dont love with their hearts, somehow, people have learned to love with their memory, and happiness is one groove of a skipping record.
old money owns record players, old money is the dj. old money is like 10% of the population. old money is the dj, i mean, the dj knows which grooves on the record are happy or sad, the dj knows the record, the dj decides which grooves to play when and why.

in a world of infinite information, artificial telepathy, people who can trust would be like old money. people who retain their ability to make decisions based on their truest self, to trust whatever is left of whatever we started with... are creating the ripples felt by everyone else.
(this is happening now, this is current reality, but all realities occur simultaneously, perceivable to the degree that you invite the distraction.)
the mask is not a disguise old money wears to deceive but the condition of blindness on the part of the viewer, blindness caused by looking with the wrong part of the body, looking with the memory in the past when the face is in the present. like looking at stars that have died a billion years ago whose light is just reaching us (that being said, is it mathematically improbable that we, someone, would see at least one star blink out of the sky in a lifetime?)
a dj is a dj, and a dj spins records. i think i have a different definition of evil than some folks. i think evil is a certain record, i dont think the dj is evil, but the dj knows which record is the evil one, and the dj who plays the evil record wont be at my birthday party. but i might pop in to that club for kicks once. i bet they wear crazy costumes in there! i bet their dances are something else.

as for people becoming dissimilar, humanity moving on, this would happen when people would see with their eyes and not their memory. this would happen when people would remember with their memories and not their eyes. this would happen when everyone is true to themself, they would see that you are not the same as me, but i mean you no harm, i just want to be true to my self, the same as you. in that, we are all moving individually but passing through one another in a way i cant describe. if a carrot and an apple could be put in a blender and turned into one juice, but then seperated back into a whole apple and a whole carrot again...
love is a mingling of ingredients, hate is two items not touching at any point, which i imagine would be a lot of work to achieve, if time and circumstance, cause and effect were seen with the eyes and not with the memory, though the touch would be weak, it would be undeniable and hate would be impossible in that case, although still acheivable with some manipulation to perception. some wipeout of some bridge back to somewhere, a break in the infinity...
love is not good and hate is not bad, love is and so is hate, but love is first and hate is second. love is what is happening until we decide to hate.

in love, humanity would have to reconsider itself...

sharks

2007-12-30T15:40:00.000-05:00

plastic people
dont bleed
or sharkcasm
would rip them to bits

colors

2007-12-21T11:53:00.000-05:00

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)

oont chick

2007-12-18T14:56:00.000-05:00

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!

things...

2007-12-16T23:34:00.003-05:00

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

whales

2007-12-04T18:36:00.000-05:00

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?