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Sunday, December 28, 2014

Infinite Recurrence

His world was completely indifferent to him. His pains and joys unnoticed by all but one, his wife. Time and time again he asked himself how he could be so lucky as to find the only person on the face of the Earth who understood him. No one else even recognized his existence. At his job at the post office, he went about the daily motions. He sorted and lifted and filed in silent solitude. In his town he was like a ghost. He would meet someone one day only to have to reintroduce himself to them on another. But his wife, his Arina, was always there for him. It was like she could read his mind. He needn't say a word and she already would be doing or saying just what he needed. She was his entire world, his only reason for living. The sun rose in her eyes, and the Earth trembled at her touch.

Their life together was quiet. They chose not to go to concerts and dining halls and dances, but instead basked in the radiance of their eternal affections. To him, Arina's golden, candle-lit face was infinitely more enthralling than any movie or exhibit. Captivated by her pulchritude, they spent their nights talking intensely of their loves, fears, and dreams. It was honest. It was real. It was one of a kind. They willingly, unashamedly bore their souls to each other and after 8 years of marriage, their captivation never waned. Years of nearly unattainable bliss lie in their wake. The world outside had nothing to offer them. The universe began and ended in the space between them.

Each day, they went their separate ways, to their separate jobs. 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, their minds lingered on thoughts of love whilst their bodies went through the unconscious motions required for a hard day's work. At the end of their shifts, they went straight home, met each other at the front door and looked with the same lovesick eyes as on their wedding night. The couple embraced and kissed as passionately as they did the very first time. Life was so fucking perfect. Nothing, no matter how dreadful, could make a dent in their paragon of happiness. Not even the loud ongoing construction going on in front of their quaint little house or the decline of their once peaceful neighborhood could get them to bat an eye.

Love like this is rare. Love so incredibly endless and raw. Yet, once in a while two people get lucky enough to find it, and all that is beautiful smiles upon them always. You would think their neighbors would find them strange or weird, but they were too concerned with falling property values and increasing unemployment. More and more people were leaving. The surrounding area was slowly degrading. Locked in a life of bliss, the couple could not have cared less. They had each other and that is all that mattered.

As another long shift at the post office ended, he picked up his bag and began his daily stroll home. He did not say a word of farewell on his way out and none bothered saying goodbye to him. To his coworkers he was no more than part of the decor. No different or noticeable than the ficus in the corner. His head raised high, he walked with his usual confident stride, with blinders on his eyes and Arina on his mind. He didn't even notice the three men in dark, baggy jackets following him close behind closing the gap a little more with every step. Nor did he see them also turn right up his walkway when he arrived home. It wasn't until he unlocked the door and turned to wait for his beloved, that he noticed them at all. Unfortunately, he didn't have to do anything about it. As soon as he took his post to wait for Arina, they were already hitting him in the face and forcing him inside.

The neighbors paid no attention to the house which in their minds might not have existed at all. The construction crew nearby focused on their job, making a terrible racket as the home of our lovers was torn apart, it's owner brutalized. His screams for help went unheard, even by his wife, who unwittingly walked directly into her own demise. The shot came so suddenly. Her fragile body crumpled to the ground. A painful stillness took her in it's embrace, the last she would ever receive.

The three men hit him repeatedly on the back his head. They took what was valuable and set to burning the entire place down.  He finally came to rest beside his beloved. His vision going dark, all he could focus on was Arina's still immaculate face, glowing golden in the firelight.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

This Totally Happened

One night I went to the bar and I met a pretty girl. We talked lots. Then she said, "Let's go back to your place and have the sex." I said, "Okay."

When we got to my place, I said, "Don't forget to take your shoes off before you go inside." Now it was her turn to say okay.

On the way to the sleeping room, I noticed my dog's food bowl was empty. So I said, "Wait lady. I want to feed my dog first." I poured some food into my dog's bowl. He came over, said thanks, and gave me a hi-five.

In the sleeping room I said, "This is where I sleep, but we're not going to sleep now." I sat next to her and we looked at each others eyes for a while until I said, "I want to eat your head." Then I bit her head.

She got up and unbuttoned her clothes. I saw her boobs. Her boobs were cool. I said, "Your boobs are cool." I touched them. Then I got such boner.

After we humped for a while she said, "Put your wiener in my butt." I said, "Ew, no. There's poopee in there."

When I came, I yelled, "Kawabunga!"

Sunday, November 2, 2014


On soft white sheets in a cream-colored room, a boy lay stretched out in the sunlight. His thin, fragile body almost weightless on the fluffy down of his bed. His brilliantly blue eyes glance up at the circular analog clock mounted high on a blank wall. In the silence of the chamber, the second hand of the clock faintly ticked away each fleeting moment. He knew he could not lay there for much longer. Eventually, Justin would need to move on, but for now, he would content himself to stray here just a bit longer. His body seemed distant, his mind alive and lightning fast. The intervals between the clock's muted ticks and tocks seemed to slow and stretch longer like cascading water on an upward grade. He wondered to himself if it might reach its apex and fall back in on itself. Time rolling backward, taking him along with it. He understood things like that never happen in the real world, yet he held on to his fantasy the same way he refused to stop believing in Santa despite catching his parents stuffing the area under the tree with presents. His mind was primed for dreams, even hopeless ones, especially hopeless ones The beauty of the most minute things overwhelmed his imagination. A momentary flash of sunlight on his bedpost. A shadow cutting the air at a particular angle. The texture of his slippers. It all felt so important. So mind-absorbingly crucial.

A deep, all-encompassing calm descended upon him. Justin withdrew further into his mind. He was vaguely aware of a growing chilliness about his toes and fingers, but he was far far away now. As his room faded, his bed sheets became a vast stretch of tundra. Fine snow specked the air. Justin inhaled deeply. As the clear, icy air filled his lungs, Justin felt supremely powerful. There were no limits for him now. He strolled comfortably through chilly uninterrupted space. There was not a single trace of human life to be seen. He drank in the perfect solitude, like a life-restoring elixir. When his thirst was quenched, he found himself tumbling through an immense garden of flowers. Freedom and lighthearted joy filled his heart. So much so, that he began to float off the ground. He rose higher and  higher as love and happiness crescendoed within his little body. When he felt he could bear no more, like his tiny heart would burst from it all, he took off shooting through the air like a bullet. Over verdant rolling hills, snow-capped mountains, deep red cliffs, roaring ocean waves. He soared high above the world finally coming to rest atop a gentle rainbow. He reclined leisurely for a moment, then became slightly aware of the pain branching out within his physical body. Embracing his fantasy ever more tightly, he fell backward into a raindrop that tenderly drifted down to land where it finally came to rest on a sunflower.

He knew it would have to end. As all dreams inevitably do. Just not yet, not this moment, please. He could face what was coming if he had but a few seconds more...

Someone was calling his name. It came through muffled and fuzzy. His dreamworld was fading. The voices became clearer. They sounded urgent. He heard mechanical noises, electronic beeps. White blurs of people swerved around his body, but he was too tired to think. Consciousness came and went sporadically. Then Justin opened his eyes. It was night. He found himself on a white bed that wasn't his, surrounded by white walls he didn't recognize. Near the foot of his bed, faint light glowed in the window of a door. He could hear voices whispering on the other side.

"We were able to stop the bleeding just in time. If we got him any later I don't know what would have happened." whispered the first voice.
"Such a shame." replied the second. "What could make a child do that to himself?"
The first voice, a bit quieter now, "The next-door neighbor found him lying on his bed with the knife still in his hand. He was mowing the lawn when he noticed the child through a window. Child protective services are looking into it, along with the police."
"Do you think it was the parents?" asked the second voice.
"I hope not." said the first voice. "God, I don't what the world is coming to."
After a pause, Justin hears the second voice once more, "How old was he again?"
The first voice barely gets the words out, "He was only 9 years old."

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Story Maybe. I'll keep writing probably.

Every day I do the same thing, and no matter how much I do, or how well I do it, I must do all of it over again the next day. No progress is ever made, nor can it be made. It's an endless crawl uphill and when I finally reach the top, I inevitably find myself at the bottom again, staring upward with dread and gloom at the hill I just climbed. I'm trapped in an endless loop to nowhere. This must be hell. There can be no other conclusion. I know I'm dead. Why can I not wake from this nightmare?

Monday, September 15, 2014

I Want you, But I Don't Need You

There are three kinds of people in this world: Those who need others, those who need to be needed, and those who need no one.

Mini version for the lazy: There are those who, if left alone, cannot proceed. There are those who, if left alone, proceed albeit aimlessly. And there are those who, if left alone, are unfazed by it. The first 2 kinds, while weaker alone, enjoy the uniquely human experience of love and companionship. The third, understands that it's missing out on this, is saddened by it, but continues on anyway.

Normal sized version: Some people are simply incapable of surviving on their own. They lack the strength, knowledge and skill to make it on their own; but more importantly, they lack the mental constitution to proceed independently. They require the support of others. They need to know someone cares for them, is looking out for them, loves them. A younger me would have called them a bunch of spine-less pussies. Good for nothing. Yet, now I see the subtle techniques mastered by these people, knowingly or unconsciously. They are master manipulators. They keep themselves one step away from danger, work, and responsibility. I still think they are a group of gutless cowards, but I can respect their abilities and can see where they might be useful. The needed and their protectors form a mutually beneficial arrangement. The needed get someone to do their dirty work and make them feel loved. The protectors gain purpose, a reason to go on.

Those who need to be needed are capable, strong, and virtuous. Although, they suffer from a complete lack of direction and are quite empty inside. They find their purpose in others. They help people reach their goals, and in helping them do that, they feel they have fulfilled their own. Alone, the protectors are lost. They feel hollow. All of their strength masks an inner weakness. They harbor self-defeating tendencies that are only lifted when in service to others,

The third type are the rarest. They embody the qualities of both of the previous types, with none of the weaknesses. On paper, these are the best people. But do not envy them so quickly. Human beings are meant to have weaknesses. They are designed to need each other. This last group of freaks is an aberration. A class of weirdos I myself belong to. Our strength is our weakness. We lack the need to connect with others. We judge them harshly. We walk alone. Yet, we understand that we are missing out on a massive part of the human experience. We never experience the joy of having just what we need, because we do not know what it is. It must be found for ourselves.

A lesson can be learned from all of these people. Even with my biased perspective, I can see that each have their own unique rewards and drawbacks. I've always prided myself on not needing anyone or anything, but only recently have I tried opening myself up to others. It's nice. I'm happy I know you. I like you, I may even love you, but I will walk away if I have to.

Momus said it best.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

With (more than) A Little Help From My Friends or It's A Funderful Life

Unlike nearly everyone else, my dreams are actually very detailed and captivating tales that aren't just interesting, but captivate entire rooms of people, leaving them in rapt attention throughout their entire telling. I rarely share them, but considering how this one involved so many of you, I felt the need to share.

It takes place in an undetermined amount of years from now. I find myself driving a dirty, beaten-down wreck of a car. I am drunk. Very drunk. I look down at the dashboard to see all kinds of warning lights lit up. I'm swerving all over the road, still taking swigs from a whiskey bottle. It's summer. A bright blue sky lights up the windshield. I can barely see. The sharpness and definition of everything is blindingly painful.

I somehow manage to navigate the thing into a parking lot. I'm cursing it the entire time. I'm older. I'm worn down. I hate myself. I leave my car parked crookedly in a spot, climb out into the harsh daylight and light a smoke. I smell. I'm aware of this, and on some level, I am almost proud of my odor. I can't remember the last time I showered, changed my clothes, or shaved. I'm walking through the parking lot to some rich, deuchey place. I know what lies inside. I know how much it will hurt to be in there, with those people, yet I continue on almost relishing the oncoming punishment. Every step I take increases the sense of impending doom I feel. I yank open the elegant glass doors and shuffle inside.

I stumble into an ornate lobby. I'm acutely aware of the staff's eyes on me. I keep trudging on looking resolutely forward. It's too late to turn back now. Just as I enter the ballroom, a member of the staff stops me. Before I can answer, Christine Feola, who seems to have appeared from thin air, informs him that I'm a guest of hers. She greets me warmly, gives me a hug. I know I'm revolting but she pretends not to notice and beckons me to follow her deeper inside. My attitude is cold and offensive. She again remains unfazed. She's much older, but you can barely tell. The years have been kind to her. She still looks so young and alert. She's wearing a suit and effortlessly carries an air of illustriousness. Everything about her is clean and smart and epitomizes the success she has achieved thus far.

She leads me over to a small group of people. I know all of them: known them for years. Back since before they achieved their fame. They're laughing like they don't have a care in the world. I hate that laugh. I'll never know that laugh the way all of them have. I'll never feel its deep resonance rising up from my belly, galloping out of my mouth. I'll never feel its lightness or its freedom. Everything I have is heavy and full of filth. I slime my way through the garbage of this world. I dwell in darkened corners and seedy alleys. I owe people money, people that will hurt me without a second thought. I am a slimy eel writhing in a puddle of sewage. I don't belong here amongst these soft lights and crystal glasses.

Erik Rudic shakes my hand with an honest, ivory-toothed smile. I shake begrudgingly and grunt a greeting. His suit is probably worth more than my house. Why am I here? Why did I accept? What evil inside me relishes this pain? He asks how I've been getting along. I answer that I've been fine, doing what I've to do get by. I am no one. Why do they care about me? He also overlooks my disturbing appearance and treats me kindly. I hate him. Him and all the rest. I go on, prolonging my self-abasement.

I see the members of Hot Blood. I try to pretend I don't. Matt Kiley runs up behind me, grabs me, and carries me over to the rest of them. They're always so excited to see me. It's a genuine excitement I can't stand to bear. It hurts me to know how far I've fallen whilst others have achieved so much. I watch myself: engaging in silent talk. I wonder how this came to be. Why have I given up? I see myself, and I know I am me, but I am also another. I watch from afar, staring at this strange person I've become, yet that person is myself, while at the same time, another.

We are here for a concert. A sold out stadium. A fishbowl of eyes eager to drink the sights of visions from my past. A multimillion dollar event once thriving in my living room. Time's bedraggled effect now working its alchemy on the masses of hungry, empty minds. Is this all there is? I catch up with myself to discover my body 5 glasses of champagne drunker, scowling at a Doug Zambon. He's not participating in the act. He seems genuinely concerned over my state of health. He keeps asking if I'm okay, if I need anything, if I can even hear him. I respond by insulting him. Him, or the wall next to him. What the fuck does it even matter at this point?

The next few hours are lost in a blur. So many faces. So many words. Why all these faces? Why must everyone talk so much? Just leave me alone! Talktalktalk, looklooklook. I can't take it! Why does any of it matter? Why did I drag myself to this god awful place? Where even am I right now? It's dark. There is noise, but it is muffled. The ground is like quicksand. I need to step quickly as not to get sucked down into its dark waves. I move toward the sound. Where are the walls now? Its as if someone is disassembling the world around me. Is this death? Is His icy hand finally pulling away all I've known, all structure and foundation, before dragging me screaming back to hell? I"m so weary now. I can't go on much further. I find a stool and table. I sit and give my life over to figure draped in darkness. The world is spinning. I'm watching it being pulled from me. I've hit my limit. I cannot take anymore of this. I leave myself and float by as a ghostly spectre. I see myself moaning, squirming on a stool in the back stage area of the concert. I feel shame for this person that is me. Clarity restored, I reexamine the figure of death. It is not death embodied. It is Amy Malkoff. She looks worried. She asks some of the stage-hands to help her take me to her room. The habitus of death was in reality my savior all along. My spirit follows her, thanks her, loves her: my benevolent goddess. I view my body, racked with fear, clouded with drugs, dragged upstairs and lain to rest.

Outside of myself, whilst I rested, I find truth. All of my friends had moved on to bigger and better things, ultimately becoming international stars. I, being the selfdefeater I have always been, drove myself mad and squandered the myriad opportunities I was presented. In secret, they paid my debts, hospital bills, and bribed people to keep me out of prison. They all loved me and cared for me. All anonymously and from a distance. The friendships we formed years ago had actually mattered. I was simply too dumb to see it. I was cut off from the world. My heart had grown hard. I was unable to accept happiness, friendship, or love. I viewed everyone as an enemy. In my eyes, they were all out to get me. They took what they wanted and left me hanging out to dry, but I was wrong. I couldn't accept the fact that anyone could actually care for me. I wouldn't accept success unless it was through my merit alone. I was a fool and a coward. I shut everyone out. I was scared. Who could ever care for me? The truth was, they all had.

I've had a very bad life. I pushed others away. I never asked for help. I'm terrified that I might be broken.

I wake up and I see Judith looking down at me. It's morning. The sunlight gives her an angelic glow. She looks so pretty. In that moment of waking, my self-abasing issues haven't yet caught up to me. Everything is perfect in this moment. I sit up to see a room packed with people worried about me. Alex Rosen pats me on the back and asks if I'm okay. I see all of your faces, golden in the morning's light, and I start crying.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

You're watching the wrong Robin Williams movies

After the news of his suicide broke, everybody has been posting that they're watching his movies in remembrance of his life. But it's all Mrs. Doubtfire and shit.

Here are the three movies I expected to see people watching that are being completely forgotten.

What Dreams May Come.

Come on, it stars a dead Robin Williams. Add on the themes of depression, suicide, and the afterlife and it seems like the first movie that should come to mind.

World's Greatest Dad

Robin plays a father whose son dies of auto-erotic asphyxiation. He then moves the body to make it look like his son hanged himself and ghost-writes a suicide note revealing that his asshole of a son was actually a sensitive, misunderstood soul so he can leave this world with some dignity. Other than the obvious, this movie is relevant because, in a sense, that's what we're all doing to him right now. By reliving the brighter moments of his life we're essentially giving some sense of respect and dignity to a miserable man who died a miserable death.

One-Hour Photo

Robin Williams is terrifying in this. His acting is so believable and unexpected, and being that it's him, it's even more shocking. This one goes to show there was more to the man than a goofy comedian. Even this lovable jester had his dark side. Something to think about.

I'm just venting over the fact that no one has even mentioned these flicks. (except Amanda who watches every movie ever made)

Hook is cool though. After all, death is the last great adventure.

Friday, August 1, 2014

I Had A Dream Where Everyone Gave Up All They Owned

A dream where everything was free and no one wanted for anything.

People only did things because they wanted to do them, or wanted to be helpful. No one was obligated to do anything they didn't want to do or be anywhere they didn't want to be.

Instantly, people seemed more at ease. There was no longer anything to protect or fight over. There was no need to struggle and strive for your basic needs.

People were carefree and friendly. All doors were open wide. Everyone had a place to sleep. There was a palpable air of generosity and brotherhood.

Virtually overnight, the arts and sciences flourished and crime practically vanished. Never before had artists been so free to create; and with no more need for competition, the greatest scientific minds could work together to invent the best possible things for all mankind.

All phones were unbreakable, waterproof, insanely fast, and had constant, worldwide coverage. Cars were done away with entirely. A brand new public transportation was devised which could take a person anywhere in the world in only a few hours and created almost zero pollution. All but a few diseases were cured, leaving serious illnesses a thing of the past. People were living up to 200 years old. The elderly were not crippled and incoherent. Instead, they were happy and independent until their final days.

Every inch of every surface was beautiful. You would die if you could experience just a moment of such vast, endless beauty.

People vacationed to the moon. All goods and services were always of the highest quality. Life was of the highest quality. And there was love. It was all over. Everything was soaked in it. It was almost disgusting how in love they all were.

Even the Earth itself seemed to display love and gratitude with its rich bounties and pleasant weather. The air was fresh and clean. The destruction of the planet, at last, stopped.

It was the best of all possible realities, and it was so easy to attain. All we had to do was give up our delusions of ownership and privilege.

As I woke I felt brand new and full of hope. But then I remembered the kind of world I actually lived in, and the kind of people that inhabited it, and I felt my dream die.

What a stupid fucking dream.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

You ever just sit there and look up?

I heard a bit of conversation today I found interesting. Someone was basically saying that something he did was important because "people were talking about it" afterward.

And I started to think...

Is all we're trying to do is prove to other people that we're important?
Are we only capable of achieving any kind of importance via the eyes of others?
Is it possible then to do something significant without recognition?

If not for other people, would anything I do matter?

I looked up and stared into the night sky. I imagined all the planets and stars up there. And I wondered if any of it mattered. We are but the tiniest speck of nothing in the grand scheme of things. If you grouped every living person on Earth and placed them side by side they would only fill an area about the size of Texas. Yet we act like gods of the universe. The scale we use to prioritize things is based on how much they affect us. Each and every one of us is vying for the attention of others, attempting to change the minds others, and trying to remain in the minds of others after we die. But are others really that important?

What gives them that power? What mysterious energy is generated by these others that we lack within ourselves? Can I not do something in solitude, that no one else will ever discover, and have it amalgamate any value?

I looked around and saw things for what they were. It's in names and labels that things acquire a succinct difference from what they're actually made of. By classifying things, we gloss over the actual composition of these things and create a new, magical reality in which they inhabit.

We don't want to know how things work. We just want them to work. We don't want to know what's inside or how it functions. If one of these magical things is not functioning properly, there are these magic people who encompass all knowledge of such things. They can use their special abilities, a learned sorcery, to repair any discrepancies within the enchanted item. These sorcerers go by names like: doctor, scientist, repairman, and chef.

The doctors have the ability to remedy any illness within the human body. If they say they cannot, it is a lie. They simply choose not to.

The scientist has complete knowledge of the universe and all it encompasses. He can take the simple materials provided to us and use them to create anything the mind can imagine.

The repairman has the mystical gift to undo any damage done to an inanimate object. With a wave of his almighty wrench he can effortlessly and instantaneously rejuvenate anything to exactly as new condition.

The chef has made a blood pact with the gods of bounty and nature and can summon food out of thin air just by willing it.

They are the very conquerors of the material world and only bow down to the absolute greatness present in the desires of the Others. Remember: a single man does not have this power. It is only by the unification of many that it manifests itself.

So next time you or someone you know has a terminal illness, a currently unanswerable question, a totaled car, or an order for a menu item that is no longer available, MAKE A SCENE AND WIELD THE CELESTIAL POWER OF GODS!

Monday, May 26, 2014


I hated her. I hated her so much. Even as I tore off the tight clothes from her lithe young body. Even as I lifted her up onto the sink in this tiny bar bathroom. I can't stop thinking about the horrible pain she's caused me, all the evil she's done. I hate her even as her perfectly shaped breasts press into my bare chest; her fingers undoing my pants with knowing familiarity. How dare she do this after all that's happened? How dare she control me like this, revealing just how weak I truly am? Fuck her! But still... my lips are on her neck. She slips her slender fingers in and out of her mouth. Wraps them around my throbbing cock. I want to hit her but instead push myself deep inside her, pumping hard, harder than I should, and she lets out a little squeal with each thrust. I fuck violently, angrily. I want to punish her. I want this to hurt. Yet, she only screams for more. She is insatiable. I despise her lusts. I grab her hair, I choke her, but she only wants more. She always wants more. My heart is beating wildly and I'm harder than I can ever remember being. I'll finish soon and be done with her forever. Sensing I might come soon, she bites down hard on my neck. "Harder!" I grunt. I feel her teeth digging into me. I thrust even harder. I hate her so much. Rage floods through my entire body. I thrust even harder, even faster.

I want to stop. I want to pry my hands from her smooth body and walk out. I want to leave her begging and alone. This girl ruined my life. This bitch took everything I had and left me without a word... but I don't. Her teeth pierce my skin. I feel hot blood trickling down my shoulder. Her nails dig into my back. This pain is perfect. She is perfect. I love her and I will love her for as long as I live. I want to run away with her, marry her. But I know how this will end.

We climax, sharing a moment of pure ecstasy. Everything is bright and beautiful. We fall softly into each other's arms. We kiss passionately. In this moment, she is mine, but only in this moment. We put our clothes back on in silence. Cold sobriety rushes over us. When I have finished dressing, I walk out of the bathroom without so much as a glance in her direction. I hate myself for having done this. I hate that I love her.

Back in the bar, I feel ashamed of what I've done. I head out the front doors and into the cool, dark street. I pause at my car. What a fucking fool I am! I hear a small voice come from behind me as I open the car door. "Wait." it says. I turn around and I see her, electric and beautiful. I focus on my facial expression, trying to keep it angry. I fight with myself to stay where I am when all I want to do is run to her and hold her in my arms one last time. "WHAT?!" I bark out. She looks meekly up at me. I see tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she says. "Please don't hate me."

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Challenge Me

I like the strange. I like the bizarre. I like the anomalies. I like to be tricked, and to be fooled. I like tricks of the eye. I like duality in words. I like to be shamed, fooled, bested, outsmarted, outdone. I like to be taught. I like to be shown. I like to be enlightened. I like to be embarrassed.

I seek these things out. I want to know there is more than what I have already achieved, to what I have already thought. I want my mind to be changed. I want to be humbled. I want to feel insignificant and uneducated. I NEED it.

I need to feel unprepared and unlearned. I need my weaknesses to be shown. I need this so I can destroy them, so I can utterly eradicate all traces of their existence. Show me where I'm wrong. Show me what I don't know. Prove to me I still have far to go.

I can't stand to feel superior. I can't stand to feel more capable and more intelligent than all those around me. There must be someone better than me. There must! I need it. I need it to motivate and inspire me. None of this is fun without a challenge. None of this is worth it without a peer.

Show me how you're better than me,
then try your best to keep it that way.

I won't make it easy.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Conversations with a space heater

We've been together for 8 years now. You've seen my trials and tribulations. You know me better than anyone. For the first time in my life, I need advice. I'm at a crossroads and I don't know which path to take. On one side, I'll be miserable and depressed almost constantly. I'd be ridiculed and tormented. It could possibly destroy me. But at the same time, there are those few fleeting moments in which I feel truly alive. In those moments I understand what life is all about, why we're here, and everything makes sense. It's total life engulfing bliss and happiness.

On the other hand, I can have a normal life, without all the suffering. We can grow old together, stay faithful, have a house and children, and never stray. But it seems so fake, so foreign, so boring. Instead of the thrill and purpose, it's a peaceful, mellow contentment. Even so, I'd be glad to have it.

What should I do? Please, help me. You're my oldest friend. You've always been there for me. Well, what do you have to say?


I forgot

You're a space heater.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Little poems for little loves

Sometimes I see someone and get inspired. It could be a beautiful stranger walking past, a familiar girl who's already taken, or a woman who didn't turn out to be what she seemed. But for whatever the reason, I occasionally write little poems. I wanted to share a few I had sitting in my pocket.

The Taken Girl

She stands by me now
elegant and fair
marble white skin and ivy green hair

She does not know
the power she holds
to pull on my heart and quicken my pulse

But her love is not mine
we're not to be together
so I'll dream of a kiss that's meant for another

The Beautiful Stranger

She wears trouble like a little black dress
Her beauty, like a black hole, never lets you go.

The Ghost

I've seen your face in many a crowd
You steal my gaze whenever you're around

But who you are, I'll never know
a love so far, and yet so close.

A Great Start

An endless gray
an impossible endless gray
engulfs my life

Gone are the vibrant colors I once enjoyed

I drift along
through a tepid sea
Old Man Sorrow
is shadowing me

When I met you
the clouds parted
and sunlight filled my life.

The Ex

The mention of your name sends shivers down my spine
There was once a time when I called you mine.
A stain on my past blacker than pitch
I can't think of you without muttering


Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Appreciate Random People Week

I declare this week Appreciate Random People Week just because! People always love to be reminded that others like them. You never know what's going on in someone else's personal life. Maybe they're going through some shit, maybe they're not. Who needs a reason to make someone's day?

As an introvert, I really don't enjoy being around people for long periods of time. Just because I don't see someone often, it doesn't mean I don't like them. So I learned the advantage of the random compliment. You get some very surprising responses.

So at some point this week, I want all of you to compliment someone of your choosing. Just pick anybody and tell them something about them you like. It's ridiculous the effect it has. Go ahead, make someone's day.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Humpty Dumpty

Nowhere in the tale of Humpty Dumpty does it specify that he is an egg.

Yeah, I know

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Attack On Watchmen

After reading through my last post again, I want to take this opportunity to correct any miscommunication that may arise from it. While I did say I did not need teachers I did not mean that I do not appreciate them. There were some that actually were passionate about their jobs and did understand me. They were few and far between but they were instrumental in imbuing me with a respect for others. They were able to penetrate my thick barrier of stubbornness and show me the fault in viewing all others as beneath me. These genuine people humbled me despite my protests. I learned humility for the first time and never forgot it. They pushed me harder than anyone ever has. By working with them, I accomplished things that even surprised myself. In their classes I was a perfect student. I would not act up or ignore. I have a deep respect for the ones who saw this as more than a job to pay the bills. They believed in their work. Teaching young minds is one of the noblest of tasks and a select few lived up to it. I only wish they all did. Maybe I wouldn't have ended up being misanthropic fuck I am today. Oh well, what's done is done. Moving on.

There is a concept that has been on my mind lately. It's been popularized in film and literature. It's the prospect of world peace through a common enemy. Even some of our greatest minds have come to this conclusion, but I still have my doubts. Two of my favorite examples of this are alien invasion flicks and Alan Moore's epic graphic novel The Watchmen.

In alien flicks, when the aliens invade, all of humanity bands together to combat this new foe. Borders are forgotten in an effort to unite against an enemy that threatens all of mankind. You might not have thought about it much, but in an attempt to destroy all humans, the evil alien conquerors have in actuality created peace on Earth. The end of the movies usually have all the peoples of Earth rejoicing. Well la di fucking da. Isn't that just adorable?

And in The Watchmen there is a similar theme. (spoiler alert) The plot mainly revolves around retired heroes coming back into action to battle an unknown foe that may or may not be killing off their former brothers in arms. Toward the end, you discover it is actually a fellow superhero who is to blame. A fellow hero who is also a super-genius. He figured out a way to usher peace on Earth and committed unspeakable atrocities to accomplish his goal. The end of the story has the heroes wondering whether or not to blow the lid on what really went down or not. The horrors have already been committed and all that was left was the ultimate aim. What is more important: the truth or peace? But I digress. By giving humanity a common non-human enemy, the masked super-genius ushers in a time of peace and saves the world from nuclear annihilation.

But I always wondered if this is what would really happen. Are human beings really that reasonable? I was unsure. It wasn't until I began watching the anime Attack On Titan that those doubts were brought back up to the surface. In the show, humanity most definitely has a common enemy: gigantic humanoid beasts that live only to devour live people, not for sustenance, but for fun. More than that, mankind is living in one single massive city protected by three 200 foot walls. If all of these previous examples are right, then how can the world within the walls not be a blissful utopia of peace? Instead, the world within the walls is exactly like the world we live in now. It's chock full of corruption, lies, and inequality. People don't change. For the most part they are spineless scum and nothing seems like it can ever change that. Sad? Yes. True? Maybe.

I'll leave you to decide for yourself. If ever a foreign entity ever declared war upon humanity would peace among men become reality, or would we just have another enemy to add to the list?

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Freedom and Happiness

There are very few things I value. Two of them are freedom and happiness. I have always passed on things that would infringe upon them. As a child, every year in school, I always passed on taking AP classes. At the beginning of every school year (and sometimes again during the school year) I would receive letters telling me I qualified or was personally recommended for AP classes. Now I knew what it was all about. I understood too well what school was really about, what advanced placement was really about, and how the way the world really worked. I would have been a fool to accept.

You see, school was never about learning. Learning was byproduct of schoolwork. School was really about grades and obedience. It wasn't knowledge that mattered at all. You were expected to only memorize enough to grade high in specific areas at specific times, and to learn how to obey every nonsensical command without question.

Advanced placement only meant you reached the end of the textbook by the end of the school year. In normal class, you didn't have to go through the entire thing. In AP you were also expected to do tons of more work for the same goal: the grade. They would assign you mountains of homework every night, make you write huge papers regularly, and have you complete extensive projects. Not only that, but the other side of your expectations were raised also. They wanted rigorous obedience. Not completing any assignment on time was not tolerated. You were to be a perfect studious child, or else.

The silliest part of the entire affair was that no one was going to give a shit about all of your hard work once you graduated. All of it was meaningless in the real world. Do you think anyone gives one single fuck if you were in AP classes or not when you were a child? It won't help you in any way except as one little bit to add to a resume that an employer can glance at briefly and disregard. Besides, social interaction and friendliness at work get you more benefits, promotions, and bonuses than hard work, skill, and diligence get you combined. The positive was vastly outweighed by the negative. Years of painful effort for next to nothing. Fuck that.

I knew I could easily learn all I needed from the textbooks alone. Teachers were superfluous to me. I finished the entire textbook every year by myself and gained all they could offer while my class puttered about skipping sections learning only the easy stuff. I tested so highly that I never needed to pore over the same crap every day and work hard on papers and projects. My test grades gave me an automatic pass in every subject. I went through my entire scholastic career never having written a single paper, constructing any project, or reading any novels. Instead, I slept well both in and out of class. My intelligence gave me leverage over my teachers. They would try in vain to get me to obey, but I would win every argument with good clean logic and after a while they let me be. One of my favorite teacher deals was if at any point they call on me in class and I answer incorrectly, I can't go back to sleep; that I would have to pay attention and take notes the rest of the day. Another good one was if I did not get the highest score on a test, then I would do my homework every day for a week.

All of this meant I wasn't chained to excessive school work, nor was I burdened with the stress and frustration that goes along with it. I was happy and free.

And to this day I continue with that procedure. I pass on promotions and extra responsibilities, accept raises, and keep work at work. I live a full life in my own time. I have never stopped learning or creating. I relax and do things my own way. I'm breaking Life's rules and it feels great.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

I'm complicated and shit.

Everybody is built differently. We're kinda unique I guess. Mostly little things here and there. One of the things that really intrigues me is the way people process and deal with emotion. Some people are like a light switch with no dimmer. It's either on or off. Others have presets and jump from standard to standard. Some waiver slightly around the same neutral area. There are those who bottle it up until they explode, and those who exude even the slightest of feelings to momentous proportions. Once you get the hang of it, you can peg them out by the most subtle of tells. It's great fun when you get into it.

Me? Well I'm like a fuse-box. It's like there are all these tiny switches that control bits of my emotional state. Different combinations yield the strange results you see. The really weird part is that the switches have no direct correlation with each other. Their effects will commingle into what I feel overall, but if one goes on, it does not automatically switch another on or off. It is almost like making a tye-dye shirt. The individual colors have a fixed starting point, but they all get flung around afterward to create the unique pattern that ends up on the shirt. Sometimes I get base colors of both love/hate or disgust/horny and the design ends up all kinds of crazy.

But, like a fuse-box, too much power gets pumped through and the whole thing blows. That's when everything goes blank and numb. Some sort of self-protection thing I suppose. It's not so bad. When the emotions start coming back is when the problems start. I begin wanting things I didn't want before. I begin seeing people differently. I start having, well, feelings. Then it becomes an issue of what to do with them. A certain person I didn't mind so much might start bothering me intensely. A girl that was just some person might grow more beautiful everyday. There might be someone I suddenly wished I hung out with more, or someone I want to punch.

It's disconcerting when you become so accustomed to numbness then spontaneously you're hit with the reality that it was only a temporary state of mind to keep you from breaking down and now you have to react to a whole new worldview.

Friday, March 21, 2014

No Exit

I read an interesting passage today. I guess you could say it was about the disillusionment that accompanies aging. It generally happens to us all. The strange thing is that I was one of the few who it came early to.

I was always so jealous of other kids growing up. They always seemed to get the things I was denied. They had more than one friend, people talked about them in a positive light, they were thrown parties, they received presents, went on trips and vacations, were happy and smiled all the time, not like me at all. I was always very reserved, even melancholy. I kept to myself, didn't talk much, and was never included in anything. It was like there was this big party and everyone was invited. They were all participating in some grand game with each other, yet I was off to the side. I was the one peering through the window wondering what it was like to be inside. I was envious, but not maliciously so. True, I did wish to be part of the fun, but I held no malice for the ones who were. I just wanted to join them is all. I wanted something, anything, to happen to me. Something special I could talk about as being a member. I wanted to be able to come into school talking about how over the weekend my parents threw me a party and everyone was there and it was so much fun. I wanted an interesting life, too. I wanted stories to tell. Sitting alone in my room or walking alone through town didn't captivate audiences as much as a vacation to France. I was boring, tasteless. I didn't have any clue what was popular or why it was. It's like there was this secret club and the only rule was no Tony's allowed.

I will admit to being a bit resentful about the whole thing. That was, until I had a taste for it myself. When I finally had a party of my very own I wasn't happy at all. I expected so much, yet when I was in the thick of it, surrounded by people with a large cake staring me in the face, all I wanted to do was disappear. I hated it. I wanted to run away the entire time. I did not enjoy being the center of attention. It was all so stupid and cheap. I looked around and thought, "These people don't care one lick for me. It's all an illusion. They're all pretending to be happy, and to be happy for me. It's the event that they really care for. The ability to say 'I was there. I was invited, and it was soooo great. Too bad YOU weren't there.' It's all some twisted game of bragging rights. They're trying to lie themselves to happiness." Needless to say, I was disappointed.

It didn't end there. The presents I got were all wrong. They weren't things I wanted. These people didn't know me at all. They had no idea what I liked. They brought things just to bring things. Then came minor inclusion to the circles I so naively desired to join. The conversations that seemed so enjoyable on the outside were now trite and callow. The things that were popular were popular for no reason. It wasn't long before I was ousted from the group and alone again. They don't like it when you boldly reveal the triviality of everything they hold dear. I couldn't help it. I was just being honest. When asked why something was so great, they would give me a dirty look and respond that it is great because it is, and if I couldn't see it, then something was wrong with me. I unintentionally parted the curtains and exposed the wizard. Certain things were liked not because they were likable, but because someone said they were cool and likable. None of the people actually enjoyed what they said they did, and they would die before admitting it.

So at a very young age, I became disillusioned to the whole thing. My whole perception of the world came crashing down. Things looked a bit darker from then on. It is a game most of you still play. It is the reason for celebrity worship and extravagance. Everyone is too afraid to accept the simple truths of life. Everyone is afraid to give up hope for that happily ever after. The reason they can trudge through this world with a smile on their shit-stained teeth is they believe if they try hard enough, if they fake it long enough, they can be genuinely happy. And one day if they play the game well enough, maybe, they will be admitted into one of the upper circles where everyone is happy all the time.

So have your lavish parties, your grand weddings, your smelly children, and don't forget to tell everyone how happy you are. I'll be over here laughing and enjoying life in a way you will never understand.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Seize the carp!

Why do people fear their emotions? Why do they run and hide from beauty? Beauty may not always pretty. Sometimes it is very harsh and painful. It may shred the very desire for life from within our heaving chests. It may bring forth a deluge of tears, but it is life and it is glorious. Embrace your emotions. Live your life while you still have it. Stop cowering like frightened children. Do not let love slip through your fingers. Do not let glory pass you by. Reach out and live! Feel to the fullest capacity. Never apologize for your emotions. You will be laughed at, you will be called crazy, and you will looked down upon, but it does not matter. If you love every second, every emotion, it will be worth it. Each moment you deny yourself is a moment of death. You are dead inside. A walking corpse, a waste of life.

My heart is brimming with beauty, I have no room for pity. You choose this fate. The tragedy is yours alone. I can only ask, and to lead by example. It is up to you whether you follow or not. I push others toward life by my words, my actions, and my art.

The path is simple to follow. Be aware of your thoughts and feelings. Next time you get an urge, focus on your emotions. If what you want to do drips terror into your being, and is not harmful to others, then do it. Do what you are afraid to do and watch the world open up like the red sea. Conquer your fear and boundless treasures await. It is like from going from a fuzzy old black and white tv, to a gigantic 3-D IMAX wrap-around screen with moving chairs. The change is of the most radical. Take this step and never live in fear again.

Odi et Amo

I sometimes wonder about you... if you're happy. And I don't mean happy as in doing okay. I mean happy as in walking on sunshine. I've felt that happiness once. I always hated those types of songs, but there was a time, not long ago when I was that happy. When, for the first time in my life, I heard songs like that and finally understood what they met; really felt it. I'll never forget what that was like, and it was you who gave that to me. So I wish you that, and so much more. Even after all that has happened.

It was Catallus 85 that made me think of you.

Translated it reads:

I love and I hate. Why do I? You may well ask.
I do not know. But I feel and it tortures me.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Tell me what I want because I'm tired of thinking.

I had a good time this past weekend. Not just a moment or two like usual, but an overall good experience with the whole thing. All the running around and good people made me remember what it was like to be happy as a normal thing. I showed people my working template for my upcoming tiny DIY book. I plan to sell/give them out while on tour. The response was good. I don't need any radical changes, just a few details and I can take it to the printer for real. I ended up giving the copy to Voltaire. I mean, think about it, when am I going to see the guy again? Plus I thought he would really get a kick out of it. I like his art, it only seems fair to give him a chance to like mine in return.

I joined another band and stuff. That brings the count to four, and 2 still pending. I think 6 is overkill and probably not a good idea. I also watched season 1 of Bates Motel in 1 sitting, so there's that. I don't really know what to write. This is very diary/journaly. I don't like doing that. So maybe instead of being the usual arrogant prick I am, I'll so a fan suggestion.

If anyone wants me to write or do anything on here in particular, let me know.


Do you want me to do sci-fi, crime, fantasy, horror, romance? Just say and I'll give it a shot. I might just single you out and write a story about how much I hate you. Anything is possible! There's no telling what later will bring. Do you want me to add pictures? Like what? Pretty things? art? my toes? Ask and you might receive!

You see, I've always been concerned with what Tony wants, when I should also be paying attention to what other people think Tony wants.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

The Urge

I have this urge, pretty much all of the time, and it takes every bit of mental strength to keep it at bay. It is to completely destroy everything around me. It's that constant prodding of chaos in wait. I wouldn't actually call the urge a desire to destroy insofar as I would categorize it as the craving for experimentation. You see, in every situation there is a prescribed approved methodology for handling it. Suffice to say, there is a question, and there is a small spectrum or reasonable answers. Or, better yet, there is a problem, and there are sets of procedures commonly followed in order to alleviate the problem. The only exceptions are problems with no clear solution. That's the only time average people will think and play with new solutions. Hiccups, nosebleeds, and the common cold are prime examples. Think of all the harebrained cures we try in those situations.

But, for everything else, like the apes we are, we watch and learn. It is part of growing up, I suppose. Children are most immune to this socialized way of thinking. They have simply not yet been taught the proper way to think. Personally, I despise the proper way of thinking. I WANT CHANGE! I want to see people doing things differently for once. Break down those rigid walls and start something new already! This is my all-consuming urge. I want to do things just because I want to know what will happen if I do. I'm too fucking creative for my own good and this life has no re-dos. When I take a step out of the box, I risk enduring its negative consequences. Consequences I am not sure I want to reap. But, FUCK, I want to know! I play a little with the rules at the time of this writing, but there is still so much more I could do. I do not know how long I can keep this beast at bay. I just want to play. I want to learn. Why is everyone so serious all the time? Don't they understand what is going on? Can't I help them? Should I?


Imagine there is a venereal disease that instantly kills people. Imagine it takes under an hour from exposure for the virus to bond, resulting in that instantaneous death. Now imagine being a carrier of that disease. Everyone who goes down on you dies within the hour. Everyone you fuck dies within the hour.

I would watch that movie.

Female lead. Doesn't believe in premarital sex. Stays celibate. Gets married. Husband dies in honeymoon bed. She freaks out, hides the body. Runs away. Tries to start a new life.  Gets raped. The rapist dies while raping her. Starts using sex to kill people? Fucks bad guys? Criminals? New superhero movie? Or new porno franchise?

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

People keep talking about the dangers of time travel

but you can really do no harm. Once you start playing with time, you open up everything to its effects. The thing is, whatever you do, whenever you do it, is already done. Even if you haven't done it yet.

I know it can seem complicated, but it isn't. What's done is done.

If I found blueprints for a time machine and built it, then went back and left those very same blueprints for me to find, there is in fact no paradox. The maths say there should be. Logic says there should be. But if I find blueprints I left for myself, then I did. Where did the specs come from? They came from me. I left them there for past me. Where did future me get them? I got them from myself in the past of course! It doesn't make sense if you look at it the wrong way. Remember: The universe is.

You can drive yourself mad trying to get a satisfying answer. I, on the other hand, am fine accepting what is. We exist. All time-manipulation that will be done and has been done. All side-effects from playing time lord are already present. They have always been. If I were to go back in time and change the future, I would only be changing it to what it was already going to be. So any change, no matter how drastic, is simply restoring things to the way they have always been. You essentially have changed nothing.

Before you decided to go back and fuck around, you already went back and fucked around which led to the present in which you are currently living. Otherwise, you would not be living in this present.

When you can control time, your thought patterns must also change. As we are, we accept that time is out of our control. Time to us, is a constant. (more or less) So it doesn't factor into our calculations as being anything but a constant. But if you can change a constant into a factor, worlds of possibilities suddenly become accessible. Think of it in simple terms of algebraic formulas.

You have at our present state of Time Slaves the equation of:    T(SxR) P )

T= Time

S= Senses
R= Reaction 
P= Passion

In this equation, Time is not a factor, it is a constant, a constant of 1. Which means Time doesn't necessarily have any real function here whatsoever. Time as 1 changes nothing and can be disregarded. This is how we commonly think. Time is unchangeable. We have 6 senses: taste, touch, hearing, sight, smell, and consciousness. We can have 3 reactions to these senses: positive, negative, or indifferent. And finally we can either derive pleasure from these or not. So if T=1, S=6, R=3, P=2 The solution as it stands cannot exceed 36. This means there are 36 possibilities for us at this very moment.

But if you add plasticity to Time, you can change that 1 into a 3. (past, present, and future) Thus allowing the number of possibilities to triple into 108. This means you would need to change your way of thinking to include the altered amount of possibilities. You would basically have to triple your brain's capacity and processing speed just to understand what the fuck was going on. And the possibilities would open up immediately. Imagine trying to triple your brain power in an instant. Not easy, huh? That's why time manipulation is so difficult to comprehend. You have to think in plethora of new ways.

So maybe I'm just talking out of my ass. Maybe I'm just making this all up. 

Maybe this really doesn't make any sense at all. Maybe I just chose these as arbitrary numbers.

Or maybe I didn't.

And this.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Serial Killers are a lot like Actors

Both are professional pretenders. They can switch between emotions like cards in a deck. Their success depends on how well they execute this. Not only that, but on how well they do their research, how often they practice, and it wouldn't mean anything without that special little something that made them what they are in the first place. Once discovered, they are revered. Both are celebrities with die-hard fans and bitter enemies. Both understand the true meaning of emptiness. (You can throw that Darkness shit out the window. Everyone who knows knows that it's emptiness inside them, emptiness behind their eyes, and emptiness that begot them. All that Darkness and Dark Passenger nonsense is just for flair, or for entertainment.)

I could go on, but you get the idea. Run with it. All I'm trying to do is guide you in an interesting direction; you have to walk the path yourself.

Lastly, and most importantly, the cardinal rule is the same: If you can live without doing it, then don't do it.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Nostalgic as fuck

Before I had constant access to the internet, a place to sleep every night, and people who wanted me around, I'd occasionally write. Not like this, of course. Just tid bits here and there. Then I began writing lyrics. That was the first outlet for my thoughts. Sometimes I look back through my papers; through myselves. I still surprise myself.

Here are a few excerpts that made me smile:


Her breath on my neck
the smell in the air
the feeling that could never be true

It'll never last, but at least I can try
to make part of you happy, while part of me dies.


It's in faults that you find beauty
and in death you find new life
It's in the cuts that run so deep
you carry for the rest of your life.


Did you ever want something to never end?
To last forever, no matter how it hurt?
A moment of pure love and pure pain
To see things through their lives
Walk with them through their problems
and in a sense, be them

I feel that way now as I've felt that way before
so many times of sorrow and fear
sitting in my room with paper and pen
listening to the tunes of my greatest heroes
I sit alone as I've always been

As the CDs change, I feel the same
that feeling never seems to go away
music can only mask my fears
to bear my soul and face the tears

lovestruck as I always seem to be
when she's with me all words dissipate
all hate and sadness become nothing but a memory
yet it all seems to return when I say goodbye

As I sing this song, I face my fears
to show you how I really feel when you're gone
So you can see the lonely dark place I go
bereft of everything but silence.


This is taking too long. I'm tired. More later maybe.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Our greatest weakness, or our greatest strength?

A fatal flaw of the human condition is our need to attribute meaning to things where there is none.

Every human experience, every interaction between us and our surroundings is nothing more than our brains processing electrical signals. Our sensory organs react to certain stimuli creating an electrical cache of information. This information is sent to the brain where it is then processed and reconstructed into a form the mind can comprehend. But this is not reality. It is only a hologram projected in our minds to convert information into a form that we can understand. Our wrinkly old brains are literally built to ascribe meaning to experience. So it goes to follow that this concept, as far as we know, is a singularly human trait. (Not because we are special or higher beings than other animals. But because of control levels, but that's another story.)

Things aren't "good" or "bad," they simply are. It is human beings who skew things to comfort and reassure themselves. Even our scientists, our so called "unbiased" observers, do this. (And shut up, you! I'm not about to bring up the Observer Effect or Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle so SHUT IT, SMARTASS!) Just because we share a common denominator with the distant cosmos does not mean we are the universe and the universe is us. It just means we are made from the same base materials; super-abundant, highly compatible materials. My favorite example of this is the popular space fact that's been circulating for some time. It is the one that states that the center of our galaxy smells like raspberries and a bit of rum, which are pleasant things. They say this because a gaseous cloud at the center of the Milky Way contains some of the largest, most complex chemicals in known space. (excluding Earth, of course.) One of the most complex/ most abundant chemicals found in this gaseous cloud goes by the name of ethyl formate. Ethyl formate is the chemical largely responsible for the taste of raspberries and the smell of rum.

I did not say they were lying about that. It's true, but only true in the sense that it's true you were late meeting up with your girlfriend or boyfriend because you overslept. Nevermind the fact that you overslept because you were having wild sex the previous night with a cute stranger. Ethyl formate definitely is found in raspberries and rum, but it's also found in grass, wheat, roasted filberts, grapes, blue cheese, barley, lemons, and my all time favorite, cow shit. Yes, a lot of that wonderful smell of cow shit is due to our lovely little C3H6O2. But nobody wants to hear that our galactic center smells like dung, so they leave that part out, not to mention it is highly flammable and damaging to our central nervous system.

As human beings we manipulate information to ease our egos and maintain minimal use of brain function. It's what we're made for. Whether you call it optimism, faith, stupidity, ignorance, or cognitive dissonance, you're still saying the same thing. We don't like to think too much. We don't like to be upset. We don't like to be wrong. And most of all, we want to be happy. But at what price?