run run, rudolph

Dear kiddies,
So the holidays are vastly approaching... hell, they're already here. How else do you explain the alterations to Starbucks' drink menu, the eminating glow from every high-end suburban community you pass, and the stack of Chistmas carol sheet music lying atop my desk? Well anyways, I am not in my most intellectual state of mind at the moment, so I thought it best to take advantage of that and do a bit of pondering about the material world. Not that I'm expecting half of this shit, but it's still fun to make wishlists, right? Anyways, here goes...

1.) The Moog Little Phatty



what's more to say, other than it is unattainably divine?
sigh... a person can dream.








2.) a Nikon AF Macro lens (of any kind, really)














3.) these bad boys







4.) a new kitty kitty

yes, just like this one







5.) this sick-ass leotard (you know, for when I feel like prancing around)




6.) sibellius!


7.) a canvas and some paints


8.) some more records for the ol' crosley



9.) a round-trip ticket to India


10.) magical powers.

oh yeah... i'm talking black magic.


oh, and I almost forgot one very important thing...

THIS

(it definitely gives the snuggie a run for its money)


I hope that thoroughly left you bewildered. Happy holidays, my lovelies.

you can have whatever you like

Freedom is truly a commodity rather than an asset. You come to realize that in the best way possible when the source of your authority has all but lost complete respect for you. You learn to realize just how much you once valued that sacred mutualism you had established between yourself and your authority. Because you are never your own authority, no matter how much you would like to belive that to be true. In fact, unless you possessed the seven seas, an innate ability to communicate with felines, and the entire stock market, chances are some bastard would still have you wrapped around his golden little finger. But this is extranneous and beside the point. The point I am trying to make is that I have recently come to find that I took for granted all the years that my authority was on my side. Those were the days when I could make her a christmas card or a batch of cookies, bring home straight a's, and win a writing contest and receive that approving smile. For what it was worth I did not know until this point in my life. This is the point where her all-knowing authority coincides with what I believe to be humane, and they unfortunately do not agree on any level. I have made my choice. I chose to make my best attempt at defiance, which only led me to a place colder than the antarctic and more lifeless than a post-nuclear war zone. Yeah, it bites. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, the point I am trying to get across is... be good. If good can even come close to being conceptualized.

An inquisitory essay on War of the Worlds

War of the Worlds is a prime example of how H.G. Wells is capable of portraying many different thematic elements in a small yet eloquent piece of writing. In any case, one of the most prominently explored themes in this given narrative is the theme of ‘lack of urgency when faced with something that does not pose an immediate threat’. This theme is most apparently represented in the book’s first few chapters, when the danger of the extraterrestrial creatures remains to be a potential threat rather than an actual one. This theme can be further exemplified as we observe the story’s events on a more detailed scale. Three key events that well embody this theme are the detection of odd activity on Mars’ surface, the landing of the first cylindrical martian pod, and the first emergence of the creatures from their pod.
We can initially begin to detect the theme in question from the very moment in the story when the narrator speaks of reports of unusual activity on Mars. As soon as chapter one does our unnamed narrator mention to us that his friend Dr. Ogilvy was aware of an eruption on the surface of Mars. Not only did a singular eruption occur on this planet’s distant surface, but this eruption was followed by nine other timely and subsequent eruptions of the exact same nature. Already, it would be natural of the reader to expect a panicked reaction of sorts from the general public in the story. This, however, was not the case. Hardly any feelings of disconcert were mentioned thus far, by the narrator or any other character alike.
Following this first example of the story’s theme of lack of urgency, the theme prevails yet again. As the story goes on, the danger finally makes its arrival on Earth as the first martian tripod graces a small town in England with its landing. As the narrator explains it, the people of this town are stricken with awe, curiosity and fascination. They even make a point to gather round the cylindrical object as close as possible to take in the sessile spectacle of it all. None of these reactions, however, come quite close to constituting any level of fear, let alone panic or distress. In turn, no precautionary actions have been made at this point in Wells’ story.
To further demonstrate the lack of urgency of the characters of War of the Worlds, we can look further yet into the story. Inevitably, the martian cylinder that landed in Woking didn’t remain intact for very long. Succeeding its arrival by a few timely days, the object’s top unscrewed from within and out came a group of monstrous and seemingly lethargic alien creatures. One would assume that the sight alone would be enough to instill terror among the witnesses. This was, again, not the case. Because these creatures seemed to be so lethargic and harmless, little precaution had been taken by any of the story’s characters. It was not until the martians did attack that any of the characters of any significance did show signs of distress.
In conclusion, the lack of urgency when faced with something that does not pose and immediate threat is a theme which Wells thoroughly exemplified in the novel. As we can see, there are countless occasions in which any of the characters could have detected the imminent threat posed by the strange activity on Mars or the presence of the creatures on Earth. Whether it may have been to achieve some sort of effect or to cryptically degrade the rational capabilities of human nature, this was one of many themes which H.G. Wells expertly included in his writing of War of the Worlds.

Back into the swing of things...

Hello to my beloved readers and adherents alike. Today was one which was regrettably uneventful- you know, the ones where you wake up, blink about three times while staring at the cieling and think "shit... I have absolutely nothing to do today". Or maybe that's just me. Either way, it has come to my subliminal attention that I have been neglecting my profound writing hobby, and thought it best to pick things back up again.
As it is more in my nature to be on the cryptic side when it comes to my writing, I'm going to be unusually blatant in this particular little piece and delve into my recent trip to the windy city. Ahh, Chicago. I like to call it one step below New York and one step above Milwaukee. Because Milwaukee really wasn't all that great. Anyways, it was just exquisite to escape the social deathtrap that is Orlando (even if it was only for the span of three days). Furthermore, the weather was phenomenally frigid in the great midwest (if you consider 30 degress "frigid").
So why was it, exactly, that my first weekend of the Thanksgiving holidays brought me up to Chicago, you may be wondering? Well rather than going into any further explanation, I may as well show you. Ob-serve...





As you can see, something was accomplished during that time. I would like to thank the lovely folks at Factor Women, and the photogapher by the name of Russ. I miss it all already. Anyhow, there is more to come seeing as these next six days or so are expected to be rather uneventful. Au revoir.

write me a novel, why dont you

My life is beautiful. It really is. I wake up at about four in the morning after a refreshing two hours of sleep, I throw together an eclectic outfit of sorts that always, by some miracle, gets complemented, and I go about my six hours of state-mandated education. This is beside the point though. What makes my life all the more beautiful are all the wonderfully sophisticated people who surround me. I hope you can tell that this story is taking a turn in the direction of acute sarcasm. Anyways, the best part of my life is when one of the many brilliant and innovative people who surround me decide to enlighten me upon how great their life is. Oh yes- there is nothing I enjoy more than listening to the incomparably thrilling night you had last night, of perhaps the weekend that you just spent completely innebriated throughout. I just love being reminded how cool you are, and taking comfort in the fact that my life will never come close to matching the excitement of yours. Really, I love it. Listening to how awesome someone's evening was gives me that same warm and fuzzy feeling you get when you go to seaworld and look through the glass at the impelling marine life before my eyes. You are truly the orca whale that I wish I could be. I can only hope that your glory may one day transcend into my lackluster life, because that's what really important to me.
Therefore, boys and girls, what have we learned today? Basically, after two hours of sleep, the last thing I want to hear about is the adventure you had last night. Chances are, you made up most of that shit. If you didn't, then even better- you probably should have been doing something less counterproductive to yourself and society. Please, go build a birdhouse or knit a potholder or something. Namely, save it for someone who has had a little more than two hours of sleep.

a little schmultz in your schmangle and this is how it goes

do you often times find yourself in social situations where you don't quite know how to compote yourself? do you sit at the dinner table, engulfed in a whirlwind of civillized small talk and get the feeling of being alone and lost in the world, like a lone, latin grizzly in the Andes? well fear not, o my children, for a solution hath come your way. below this eloquent introductory paragraph lies a well-thought-out list of questions to be asked at the dinner table. what was once a dinner for schucks is now a dinner gone a-muck... in the best way possible. so take a look. the pleasure is truly mine

1.) What are your views on the enron conspiracy?
2.) Raise your hand if you have ever been accused of witchcraft.
3.) If you had to pick one, would you rather have ebola or malaria?
4.) Would you marry Tom Cruise if you were an illegal alien and in desperate need of a citizenship by marriage?
5.) In all seriousness, would you agree that Gerard Butler is, for lack of a better term, "bangable" at any age (or any gender)?
6.) Do you think that members of the KKK secretly watch Tyler Perry films in their free time?
7.) Have you ever seen the sneezing panda video on youtube?
8.) Do you own any taxidermy pieces in your home?
9.) When was the last time you fell victim to a corprate scandal?
10.) Have you every thought about the fact that we are related to every person we sleep with in some way or another?
11.) Do you consider cockroaches to be demons in insect form?
12.) Would you ever partake in an underground cock fighting match?
13.) Do you prefer domestic american shorthair felines to persian ones?
14.) Do you believe in El Chupacabra?
15.) Have you ever spoken to the Virgen de Guadalupe (in any way)?
16.) Do you ever plan on getting vaccinated for malaria (it, too, can happen to you)?
17.) What do you personally favor, Legalism or Confucianism?
18.) Does your family have a history of heart disease?
19.) Sould catalonia be a country?
20.) Could you survive 24 hours in a room with episodes of "the nanny" being played back to back?

i hope that wasn't too unpolitically correct
and remember... ALWAYS stay on top of YOUR toes.

we are all fish in the sea

Those who say that we become more mature as we age... they're wrong. They're all wrong. We don't become wiser... reality simply becomes us. Think of reality as one massive fishing net, us being the fish.
When we are young, we are more aware of this net. We try to defy it, outsmart it, swim away from it. But either way, we can't help the fact that the current is pulling us in closer and closer until we can't see the netting anymore, yet we find ourselves trapped in it. We only realize that we are being pulled into a mental and emotional standard of sorts when we are young. And so we try to escape it.
When we are older, however, we have two choices- either to swim right into it, only to lose yourself to convention along with all the other fish in the sea... or to simply be lost in a vast and seldom populated ocean. An ocean where only the youngest and most foolish little guppies dare venture. In regards to love, we only see it for what it truly is when our minds are young, uncorrupt, untainted- hence why we don't feel it when we are younger. But when we are older, we become scared of swimming alone. We are afraid of what lies beyond the net. This is why we follow the other fish into the trap. Who is the fisherman, you may wonder? He... he is what will become of us once we have entered the net. The same outcome. The same fate. But I, as my own fish, want to see all that the ocean has to offer. I never want to swim into the net, nor do I want to swim alone. Love, therefore, is not the net. The net is what we as the fishies believe to be love. No... what love really is is wherever in the great vast ocean we feel scared and fascinated and adored by all that is around us. Where we feel we are alive.