nothing less

I am a dreamer.

on this she relies...

nothing more

I am a dreamer.

"Why don't you eat a decroded piece of crap?"

No thanks, I have a plate full of bacon.



Mmmmmmmm... bacon.



Note:
If you value your health and well being at all, you will not use my actions as a guideline for your own life. That said, if you choose to do so anyway, I accept no responsibility whatsoever for the ensuing heart attacks, gastronomical problems, and scores of children following you everywhere going "Fatty fatty fat fat!" whilst pointing their chubby little index fingers at you. You morbidly obese lump of human jello. Get help.

gathering soul

Katamari Damacy...

Rolling, gathering, building.
Movement is bliss, why would I stop?
Spinning and tumbling around the world.
Just try to keep me still.
Over cupcakes, over cows, look out windmill, you're up next.
Don Quixote, trembling in fear; let's roll him up too.
Gaining speed, adding bulk, a jelly star is born.
Rolling, gathering, building,
'till the rainbow takes me home.

it's 3:41 o'clock

Wish I could shoot lightning bolts out of my mouth. Just like that guy on the street corner, I'd smite passers-by with the power of my words. My rage wouldn’t be Bible-fueled, but my righteous indignation would be invincible.


On a completely different note, this was my dinner tonight/this morning…



Natchos are good.

don't really know where I'm going with this yet...

Don't really know where I am with it either.

Late March is a dangerous time to go wandering around in garbage dumps. I blame the city. It's mostly their fault for putting out too many public garbage bins. One on every street corner, two in every park; walking along the waterfront is like walking through a trashcan forest. They say it’s about litter prevention, and helps keep our city cleaner. I say it’s bordering on gross negligence. It’s one of those environmental initiatives that looks good on paper, but comes back to bite someone in the ass later on. The problem itself is environmental. Atmospheric actually, I suppose. The problem is snow.
Every time the snow piles up on the ground, it also piles up in the garbage bins. From there it freezes, and then gets more trash tossed on top of it. At the end of the week, out comes the garbage-man to collect. He takes a look, sees that the can is full, and tosses the bag into his truck; a job well done. Or so it would seem. Now what we’ve got is a garbage truck half full of garbage and half full of ice, water, and garbage juice. The truck makes its way down to the dump, and empties its load. But where does the liquid go? A little drains away, but lets face it. When its minus twenty, it doesn’t take long for liquid, even garbage juice, to freeze. What we end up with is a landfill full of buried pockets of ice, some the size of a basketball, some the size of a car. Therein lies the danger. By the end of March, these pockets have finally had a chance to thaw out, creating section of the dump where the garbage takes on qualities similar to quicksand; sloppy, foul smelling, rotting quicksand. The landfill becomes a deathtrap, waiting ever so patiently for its next victim. And that’s how I met Jim.
Maybe I should clarify. It was a fairly one-sided introduction. I did most of the meeting, while Jim pretty much just stared at me. You see, Jim was a skeleton. Buried up to his chest in garbage, arms outstretched, one hand holding an old rusted-out air rifle, the other, still tightly clenched around a useless two-way radio. We all knew of Jim, but I was the first to come face to face with him in ten years.

more coming later...

born again idiots

I was supposed to go to bed the moment I got home from work today. You know why? Because it's late and I need sleep, I'm not getting sleep, and this whole no-sleep thing is just pissing my body off. But I'm awake anyway. Care to know why?
Take a look:




(full page ad in the Toronto Sun, pg 17 2005/02/15)


I don't care to comment much on it right now, 'cause it would just get me all angry and crazy with the yelling and the screaming and the fire shooting out of my eyes 'cause of the rage. And that wouldn't be conducive to the bedtime plan. So for now I'm just putting it out here for you to look at, ponder, then print off and tear up. While I'm sleeping, feel free to comment yourself. In fact, I insist.

a Colin before a Colin before time...

A prequel:

The Colin that is, is the Colin that was, but not the Colin that will be.
You see, Colin never quite fit in. Not in the way that a lot of people don’t fit in. It’s not that he wanted to, but couldn’t. It wasn’t like that at all. It was a conscious choice. Since the beginning of his non-existence, Colin had studied the world around him. He had listened to the way the others spoke, and he had watched the way they used each other. Colin didn’t only study people though. He also studied that which would one day be nature. Nature could be cruel. It could be harsh and unforgiving. One thing that Colin had learned quickly was not to piss nature off. At the same time though, he was drawn to it. He was drawn not to the ferocity with which nature could act, but to the underlying equilibrium beneath those actions. Nature was about balance.
Having realized the importance of stability, Colin went back to his studies of potential people. Looking at them now, he could see that there was indeed an underlying sense of order to their actions. It was however, different than the laws by which nature was governed. The human order was unstable. It seemed to draw its strength from the greater need, but was much too easily twisted and shaped around the needs of one. Those that would be humans were too easily ruled by their own desire, or worse, their greatest fears.
Colin was distraught, for he feared that he too, would one day be forced to give into the certainty of instability. Thus, he studied some more. He watched and waited. Time passed, and one day, Colin found what he needed. He realized that his fear of instability, was all that was keeping him in flux. After all, it wasn’t that some things were more real than others. It was that nothing was real at all. Rather than fear the volatility of the world, he would embrace it. And so, Colin regained his sanity by parting with his hold on an insubstantial reality. Vowing to live his life for himself, and respecting those that did the same so long as they did not do harm to others, he marched on, whistling all the way.

"I wasn't standing Officer, I was parked."

This sign is the reason I owe the City of Toronto sixty dollars.

Arrow pointing right = good = legal parking space
Arrows pointing left = bad = me

The worst part is not even the fact that when I parked there, the spots in front, behind, and on the other side of the one-way street were all empty. It's that I still put money into the damn meter.

You win this round city.

But where's Mr. Hogan?

If I was a pirate, I would bury these in a gold-filled chest beneath a big X in the sand on a tropical island near a volcanic mountain shaped like a skull.





But that's the problem with being a cowboy. No booty.


I picked up Blind Melon's self titled album today.
On cassette. For a dollar.
The stash of music I'll be listening in the van just keeps getting bigger and better...

-Pearl Jam (Vitalogy)
-Green Day (Dookie)
-the Cranberries (No Need to Argue)
-Bush (Razorblade Suitcase)
-Blind Melon (Blind Melon)
-Nirvana (Nevermind)
-the Eagles (Hell Freezes Over)
-the Barenaked Ladies (Gordon)
-the entire collection of Jack Grunsky's children's songs
-the Lion King soundtrack

The question now is whether I'm more excited about getting the van, or getting a tape deck. And would a Super Nintendo trump them both?

No, I don't have a cellphone, so fuck right off

Me: Hey there, how's it going?

Cashier: What would you like?

Me: I was wondering if I could get some change for the telephone.

Cashier: I can't open the till without a sale.

Me: Oh, well how much for one of those chocolatey things?

Cashier: (glances over to chocolate marshmallowy brownie square) $1.59

Me: Damn. How about that muffin?

Cashier: $1.59

Me: Look, what's the cheapest thing I can get from you?

Cashier: (looks around) A packet of jam or butter.

Me: How much?

Cashier: Twenty-five cents.

Me: I'll take one order of jam please.

Cashier: Strawberry or grape?

Me: Strawberry.

Cashier: (picks up packet, drops it on the floor, picks it back up and gives it to me after wiping it on apron) Here you go.

Me: Thanks.

End of conversation.

WHO THE HELL EATS GRAPE JELLY?

the milk you have with your cornflakes has great nutritional value

Exiled to the basement again. It seems the computer freaks are propagating and multiplying at an alarming rate. That's okay, everyone deserves to have a good time now and then. Even ugly people. Plus, I enjoy technology as well, so I'm here too. A few weeks ago, I was telling someone about my plan to install speakers in my jacket, that I may bring the joys of music to the unenlightened. She said "So you're one of those cool nerds, eh?". I said "Yep, the coolest one of all". After all, I have a half finished speaker-jacket, and almost two decades of solid video game experience to back me up.

I need to write more.

But now class is on.

Bam, popped their clogs... gone.

a Colin before time...

Part one:

In a time before time, when the big bang was a few years away, and existence was still busy in the stages of planning out the next billion years, there existed a consciousness named Colin.
Colin was a very high-spirited little ball of light, he liked to laugh and sing, and have a good time scooting around through the void-that-would-be-the-universe, with his other little ball of lights friends. He liked it so much, that partying, chillin', and making other people happy, was all he ever really did. Consequently, he was rather far behind in his duties as a would-be person. So one day, after a late night of drunken energy-being revelry, Colin decided he needed to get his act together. He'd been thinking about it, and with only a few years to go before creation took form, he had a whole lot to do. First off, he figured, he'd need a body, So he grabbed his wallet and floated on down to the Body Shop; the real one, not the standing example of false advertising of today. Seeing as how it had been open for all of eternity, there was never a line, so he walked right up to the cashier, and smiling coyly 'cause she was pretty, he said "I'll take the buff rock-star body please, with extra talent on the side."
Smiling back, she said, "I'm sorry, we're all out of that model. We've got one puma left though. How about a puma? Wouldn't you like to be a puma?
He thought about this, but didn't much like the idea of potential itching 'cause of fleas, so he shook his head and said "Nah. How about the calendar quality firefighter set up?"
"Oooh... that's a good one." she said as she swiped his debit card.
"Beep! Insufficient funds!" flashed the machine.
"Oh... I guess I'll take the skinny white boy look instead." he said.
With his future body planned out, Colin decided that he'd accomplished enough for today. He felt quite satisfied with himself, and went home to have a big bowl of honey-nut Cheerios. Later he went and picked up the cutie from the store and took her out with some friends to the coolest bar in the non-universe, and totally swept he off her metaphorical feet with his charming personality. Then he said he'd call her but then he didn't. Not because he's a jerk, he just didn't want to spoil the memory of a perfect night with the mediocrity of a telephone call. Instead he sent her a shining ball of light sunflower and a poem he wrote about how awesome she was. You see, Colin was just that smooth.

The end?

no parking

taken out the window of the seventh floor of the one directional stairway

thursday on friday

Dinner:



Crusted Rack of Lamb with Ratatouille and Dauphine Potatoes






It's crazy how fast thoughts can move when they have to. Like when you're jumping over a snowbank, and mid-leap, you start to think about what's on the other side. Ice? Puddle? More snow? Leprechaun? Hmmm... maybe I should have thought this through before I jumped... But no matter how fast you can think, no matter how many possible scenarios you can come up with in that split second, you're still only halfway through the air, and should probably concentrate on landing. Still, the thinking part is what motivates us to keep the randomness of our universe going. Sporadically testing the limits of your environment to in turn, test yourself. I crave the flickers of genius that surface with this manic type of insanity.

What an odd place for a mirror.

number two

To the victors go the spoils. We wage war for gold, silver, and shining stones; the sparkling jewels of our imagination. For land, for women, for oil or water; strength is the key as the strong slay the week. We march over broken hills, and across blackened plains. Hypocrisy in disguise is destruction unnamed. Under tattered banners of justice we will paint the sky red. To eyes full of greed, the stars will shine like rubies; new gems to conquer and covet. Fixated on the heavens, we will lay waste to the earth. We are the weapons of mass destruction.

How can you rate the success of something born of a failure?

Are you dismayed with the current state of the world? Does television make you sick? Have you seen so many unnecessary, sensationalistic stories, accented by presidential sound-bytes that you pretty much want to kill yourself?
Well hold on just a second! Put down that noose, throw away those razorblades, and come on over!
Allow me to introduce you to the wonders of alcohol; the politically inspired way!
First off, here's what you need:

-a group of friends who don't mind getting soused on short notice in the middle of the week
-a television set
-a couch ('cause you don't want to sit on the floor dumbass)
-lots of hard alcohol (vodka works well)
-I don't think you understand quite how much alcohol you need... we're talking at least a liter and a half per person here
-these last two didn't really count
-a number of shot glasses (three per person is best, in case a succession of rapid fire shots is necessary)
-a good stomach, and a strong sense of denial

Here's the drill... turn on the TV around six-ish. Flip to any major television network*, and get ready to play. If the network shows a clip related to "terrorist activities", you must take a shot. Any time you see President Bush, and he mentions "the war on terror", or uses the words "freedom" and "democracy" to justify atrocities around the globe, you must take a shot. If you see anyone at all mention how great it is that the U.S. is "spreading democracy to less fortunate countries in need", you must take two shots. This includes random interviews of people on the street. Even in Texas. Basically, whenever the stations try to put a positive spin on the US's interfering, corporate agenda, you have to drink. The game will end either when you pass out, or you see a segment questioning the United States' Government's untruthful nature, and dangerous, self-evident trust in the ignorance of the people. Oh, I almost forgot, if you are the last person to shudder in disgust when you hear Mr. Bush refer to the Iraqi election as a "resounding success", you must take a whole mickey unto thyself. I recommend keeping a number of buckets or plastic bags on hand to save time on clean up later.

*Note: Fox network not recommended for beginners