as noted:

Planet of the Apes on "infinite regression".. taken and exchanged by Quantic.
Definately a Top Ten, the movies, not the tune :).

the non-unique argument

I've made it plenty.. the over-bloggers, the over self-indulgences, the self-promotions for inadequacies that have taken over our lives. I am one of them. I started this blog because I couldn't write in my diary/journal anymore. My writer's block to my own self conscious.
The argument is, of me and all others, who cares what we think? I am not special. I am not wise.
I talk to myself...as if life is something more than us talking to ourselves.
i am not special says me to me, and to the person next to me until inifinite regression takes over and i speak to myself face to face, reassuring the fact that i live in all of you and you live in all of me.

merry christmas

here we go!

grab your stuff
pack your bags
get your pretty feet a'movin'

cause im on a roll!
rollin and scrollin
uhuh
rollin and scrollin
and killing time for you huh

*note: susandia is temporarily out of service. maintanence crews may sprinkle fairy dust causing unstable biproducts.
Please do not respond to this notice... this is an automated response.

jungle blood london

with bouncing knee and curled lip
strobed lights, i smile to the sky
blinded and happy

oh sweet caroline, mix me into tantric grin

Disclaimer:

In my search for me i found you
so, i log less and blog less..
my theraputic less...
less has taken over.

and so much more it is.

needless drinks with neccessary gatherings

what else are the holidays about.
love
giving
and of course, reaping the benefits of giving :)

happy holidays.

Life Appreciation 101

we sunk into the couch together
the near death
that slumber sleep awake
blowing minds
tumbling bodies
we fall together
and then apart...
and back together...

her moans a whisper
"this is too much"
and with our warm enbrace
we return from life deprivation

not my normal post, but...

three things...
1. DMT rocks!
2. on a cancer tangent: cheers to my mother's well being.. all cemo is DONE! :)
3. this makes me feel "OK" about all the to-go containers i throw away weekly... "we are here to fuck shit up" ha!

iron-clad

you're so iron-clad... always easy-breezy.
i smiled and responded, "of course"

there is no other way to be i thought to myself
but then i recalled a few things

i have lost my ground at times.
i have spoken to soon, or too late, at times. or not spoken at all.
i have felt too much too soon at times
and some thoughts have surpassed logic, intelligence and good-will.

BUT i don't make mistakes.. only decisions, and oh-so thankful i am for those.

Yellow Haze

I gots nothin...so ill post an accidental image that my phone decided to take.
Hence the argument that there are no real accidents.
That's my argument...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

spoons of sugar

not like the ones forced at my mouth to stop my anemic shakes or car-sick nauseating spells.
Hmm, but now that we're on the subject, i suddenly feel the need for story telling.

I was about 5 years old, summering in Mexico, when i first realized i didn't like to be in things that moved too fast, particularly, in a circular motion.
The wretched thing was part of a traveling carnival next to my grandmothers house. It was called Platillos Voladores (flying saucers). I sat, waiting, happy, excited, as the mechanical spins began. Regardless of the cool mountain valley air, sweating palms and neck began to come over me. I took a breath holding onto my cousin and the bar on my lap.
Faster it went. Holding my breath i clenched harder, mistaken for fear, as my first cold sweat and nausea consumed me. looking down at me, realizing, she took my head to her chest covering my eyes, saying that would make it better, only seeming to make it worse. Repeating to myself, "this is fun... this is fun... supposed to be fun..."
It seemed like eternity, the slowing down , the oh-so long slowing down of my saucer. looking at the bar to lift. waiting. breathing short. sweating cold.
We quickly walked home, embarrassed of getting sick. my grandmother took one look at my pale face to nearly yank my cousin's arm out of her socket, then dragging me to the kitchen.
I remember being picked up and plopped on the stool my grandfather had made me. I was fed a spoonful of sugar followed by a bottled joya.

Under other circumstances this dinner would have been a great start to my evening :)

slowing down

to a screeching hault
with my heart at my sleeve
and my keys at your feet
i stand bare before you

finally: "Unlocked"

I watched this short film outside, at a park , before Hair was about to begin. My friends weren't impressed by it, but it stuck with me. And I finally, 2 years later, found it, only by LINK.

more from Daryl Wein.

Untitled

By a mile the wind sails
By a league the ocean wails
Until into a river
Until into a stream
Beyond the raindrops reach
Below the mud so deep

It went...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®