products of inertia

The window behind me stands open, the subtle drumming of the rain filtering through the half-opened Venetian blinds. The occasional car drives passed, breaking the silence with the sputter of an engine and the splash of a particularly deep puddle. Aside from these passing intrusions, I am alone.
I focus my eyes in the dim light, the confines of my mind briefly giving way to rest of the world around me. Sometimes I forget that it’s there, silently waiting for my attention to return to it so that it can grasp a hold of my thoughts and struggle to keep me there for good. It never quite wins.
The phone rings. I reach over and pick it up, but there’s no one there. No “Hello?”, no soft rasp of someone breathing, nor click as they hang up the other end; nothing but the steady dial tone to offend my ears. I look around the room nervously as I replace the receiver. It’s still there, right in the corner where I left it, the worn canvas backpack with the broken buckle, the only thing that matters to me right now. The only reason I’m here.
My mind turns back to the phone now as I check to see that the door is shut and the chain pulled. My heart is racing. Did it even ring to begin with?
I walk back over and close the window, even though I’m on the second floor. I silently curse you for leaving me alone like this. The clock next to the bed tells me that it’s two thirty-eight in glowing red numbers, as I lay my head back on the bundle of rolled up clothes that I’ve been using as a pillow for the last two nights. Two thirty-nine. Two forty. Two forty-one. Enough, I decide as I drift off to sleep. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m leaving.

I do like Jello...

It’s official. A few beers and a couple of pitchers later, and I’m now old enough to start talking about the way things used to be. You know, back in the good old days of Tetris and Duck Hunt, and Saturday mornings spent watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the Super Mario Bros. Half Hour of Power.
Old enough to criticize the youth of today, make daily use of the term prosti-tots, and start the slow but steady spiral towards bitterness and apathy.
Yep, I did the math myself, and unless I’m mistaken, I am twenty years old as of eleven-something this morning. Eleven forty-six perhaps? I’m not entirely sure, my memory is mostly unreliable in situations such as this. Fortunately, I do seem to have gotten a hang of those crazy electrical impulses known as motor skills, at least for tonight, and can therefore function as a productive member of society despite having been pumped full of beer earlier. I plan to take full advantage and actually get ready for bed properly, maintaining the same daily routine I usually follow. You know, brushing my teeth, grabbing a quick glass of water, perhaps changing out of my clothes, and actually laying down comfortably as opposed to passing out. Seems like a promising night of restful slumber. After all, I’ve got to rest up for next week, when the real birthday celebrations kick into full gear.
Let’s take a vote on how I should celebrate…

a) Strip-Club

b) Dave and Busker’s (adult oriented Chuckee-Cheese’s)

c) Fill a hot tub with vodka saturated lemon-lime Jello and bikini-clad nineteen and twenty year-olds

Try to keep in mind that option c) is not something I can likely accomplish.
Unless of course all of my female friends volunteer.
It is my birthday after all.

stop thinking

Apparently, we all tell lies.
They flow out of our mouths like air,
on whispered breaths while we sleep.
They spin threads through our minds all day,
weaving and twisting, tangling us in their cruel delights.
They give us a taste of power, tainted with pain.
They make us feel something.
Apparently, we like it.

I wonder about that sometimes.
It does seem to be rather counterproductive for the most part, but the trick here, is that’s exactly how we work. Stepping outside of a simplistic version of life is hard to do. Realizing the enormity of existence in general, is painful at best, and utterly destructive in the worst cases. Our lies are a defence mechanism, built up over countless generations of supposedly civilized living. They make living meaningful, and turn our lives into bright flames that streak across the sky in glory, to be talked about forevermore. The sky always goes dark.



A lie lies at the base of reality.
A lie stands at the pinnacle of the dream.
A lie will lead the way when it all comes crashing down.

two days without a dolphin sighting

Life: the original mystery, the greatest drama, the most twisted joke. Crazy how one thing can be many things, and yet at the same time, also be nothing at all. Life is essentially an observation, and an observation can only truly exist to the observer. Thus, life is meaningless to all but the one living. This little side effect of logical reasoning can often be used to justify just about anything to oneself. Fortunately, we are not all objects of rational thought, and as such, are not all bound by the constraints of a purely rational mind.

I should really elaborate, but I have such a short attention span when having conversations with myself.

Is it so wrong to believe that imperfection flows from existence?

It just so happens to be April 20th today, by which I mean tomorrow, as I have not yet gone to bed. I’ll remedy that now, and make more sense later.



Also, apparently Jimmy is not forthcoming because I consider it to be past the point where I could have written about it in context. You have my apologies. Read the Weapon to make up for it. The clock has almost stopped.

have you seen this mammal?

When the tall man in the dark suit asks you this question, tell him “No.”.
Don’t stop to ponder his words, don’t ask any questions, and if you care about the well being of yourself and your family, do not even consider answering truthfully.
Your best chance at making it out of this situation without incident is to feign ignorance. Brush aside the question with an uninterested hand gesture, or a dismissive laugh, do not linger on the subject.

I can’t say much more right now, staying in one place for long is not an option, but I will contact you again soon.
Godspeed.

PS
Do not openly engage in any "questionable" activities that will raise suspicion!
This goes much deeper than you know.

Jimmy is forthcoming

None can weigh the silent words,
too dark to say aloud
Better than I, have tried and failed,
then swung before the crowd
The first stone cast has done the deed
through no fault of its own
A guiding hand shall show the way
and rear the seeds we’ve sown


I thought this had potential five minutes ago. Then I read it and realized it didn’t and was an ambiguous dead-end. So vague and nonsensical that I forgot where I was going with it in the first place and had to stop.

I thought this had potential ten minutes ago. Then I read it and realized that it did, but not right now, as it clearly needs elaboration and does not reflect my current state of mind at all, so I had to stop.

Today was actually a rather good day in a rather good week, chock full of goodness, but I just don’t feel it right now. I’m thinking it’s time for a nap, after which I may regale you with anecdotes of the twisted vision that is my life.

In the meantime, I definitely need more pillows.

In the meantime, you definitely need more rusty.

In the meantime, this is definitely what I’d look like if I were some sort of a demonic incarnation of myself in an alternate universe not unlike our own…

duality

So yesterday on the four-twenty-seven was one of those forever-type drives. Everyone was going incredibly slow and taking up the passing lane, and this guy in front of me started shooting fire back at me and such, and I was trying to pass him but I couldn't because I was blocked in by a gigantic truck which by all rights should've been in the right lane. So there's all this fire-shooting going on, which is actually just the ashes of the twenty cigarettes the guy was smoking, so in my head I'm Batman, and this guy is some petty thug who just stole my Batmobile, and now he's trying for the getaway, and I'm all like "No bloody way you're stealing MY Batmobile you dirty bitch!". So I'm driving a car lent to me by a good Samaritan and chasing him down, and he's weaving in and out, and swerving all over the place, but I still catch up to him 'cause I'm Batman and have superior driving skills and reflexes, but then he starts hitting buttons in desperation and manages to find the switch for the rear flamethrower, and I have to back off, but then I look at the speedometer and think "Wait, if he wanted to get away so bad, why didn't he just drive more than ninety-five kilometers an hour?".

Before all this, everything started all normal-like going along the Gardiner Expressway, when suddenly it sounded like it was raining cats and dogs, and my window was getting pelted with drops the size of baseballs, and it was insane and loud and went for about five minutes, but really there was no rain at all and it was sunny out the whole time, so I thought it was coming from my radio, so I turned it off, but the noise just kept going until I started to get kind of worried and began to wonder what the hell was going on, and then it stopped.

Insanity two, Colin zero.


The preceding message was written earlier today, which was technically yesterday, but that doesn’t count ‘cause it will not officially be tomorrow, until I go to bed. The part of this post upon which your attention is currently fixed, was written after the phone call that interrupted the posting process. Said phone call went like this…

Colin: Hey, is Justine there?

Corey: I afraid she’s currently indisposed.

Colin: Who is this?

Corey: Her hair will soon be pink.

Colin: Corey my friend!


And within twenty minutes, I was on the scene, fully prepared to be a witness/key role player, to/in Justine’s first ever pink hair experience. Needless to say, it was a whole night of firsts. Shortly after I arrived to help stick it to genetics with pink dye, Kev dropped by as well. I won’t bore you with our stories of substance abuse and police encounter, but I will say take a moment to comment on the weather enough to mention that it had dropped at least fourteen degrees since this afternoon, and was not a good night to be caught outside in a T-shirt while waiting for the cruiser to show up on the Rent-a-Cop’s behalf. Cheers to video surveillance. Also, cheers to digital photography, which stands tall among the ranks, right next to the Polaroid Joycam in versatility and functionality; though the Joycam does have the added bonus of an memorable, wallet-sized sticker photo.

insomnia hurts my brain

I wish I lived in ancient times, back in the days upon which all our current mythology is based. I would definitely be king, because not being king would make me angry. Being angry would not be conducive to the whole other-people-living thing. I wouldn’t bother ruling through tyranny, as all that violence and fear is rather unnecessary once you’re in power. It’s simply a catalyst for ascension to the throne.
I would walk the streets of my city openly, so that my citizens would be able to bask in my aura of greatness. I would allow them to surround me in flocks and tell me how great I was, and bring me shiny things.
Every once in a while I would go around shouting, “This is my decree!” but never actually follow up with anything, thus leaving everyone confused and worried that they might in some way be doing something that violated the unsaid decree.
Sometimes I would draw pictures and hang them on my castle walls. Then I would force the whole city to line up for hours in order to be filed in one at a time to marvel at my artistic skill. I would then select one person at random, and say that the gods had marked them. This would mean that had to go on a pilgrimage to climb to the top of a nearby gigantic mountain to appease Zeus. If they made it back, they would receive a pig and a bunny rabbit. If they were never heard from again, their family would sack of turnips. I would know whether they really climbed the mountain because another one of my drawings would be in a cave at the summit. They would have to tell me what it was before they received their reward. It would be of a kitty.

Tonight was the last night to see
“Thebans”, starring Rob Krazewski,
presented by Ryerson. If you didn’t go then don’t worry, you can still enjoy the reflected glory of the lucky/cool people who did. Send all e-mails of adoration to consciouslydreaming@gmail.com.
Also, I've heard the Kaiser Chiefs three times on the radio since Rob mentioned them yesterday and you should go buy Absolution, by The Muse because it came out forever ago and you have no excuse for not owning it yet. Then I should go buy The Dears’, No Cities Left, because it’s been out for way longer.

"You shut the hell up Jacky-boy, you're dead!"

(said title and this post are related by timing, not content)


How can I wonder, when I know that you dream?
To lift up you head, to stand, eyes blazing,
and shout out a name, forgotten 'till now
for this moment you've waited, such a very long time.
You didn't see me, as I watched you turn.
A whisper of echoes, lost to the wind.
How can I wonder? You must understand,
I closed my eyes, did you?

nostalgic cop-out

Today has been uneventful. By "today", I mean "tonight", as categorizing it as a full day requires some sort of conscious thought before five o'clock at night. Make that six o'clock. Stupid time change.
Mostly I'm just feeling bitter because of an assignment, and was going to write about that and be extremely mean/depreciative to a member of my group, but that seemed like it would do more harm than good.
So instead I'm just re-evaluating the axis on which my life is currently spinning, and trying to decide where I want to head from here. Unfortunately, that doesn't make for interesting writing until it's out of the planning stage, so instead, I leave you with some random quotes from the best cartoon series that nineteen eighty-nine had to offer...



Ganon:
"My new Wand of Power will allow me to zap her into my Evil-Jar!"

Zelda:
“The magic compass says... that way!”

Ganon:
“I'll get you Liiiiink!” (as being zapped)

Link:
“My heroic princess, kiss me!”

followed by…

Zelda:
“Oh, shut up.”

Finally...

Ganon:
“Blast! She deflected my power-zap!”

And so ends a decade.

happy birthday Suzanne!

Two days late, but worth the wait.
Let's see... same advice as I gave Sarah.
Movement only as necessary, ie throwing up, going pee, throwing up some more, and honestly, just don't even try eating anything for a day or two. It'll save you some of the mess.