Car pay Deed Them

Wow it has been a

While since I last posted here

But with good reason

Get off your ass

And make shit happen

Kill a an officer

Or maybe his captain

If you should slow

Take a deep breath

Carpe Diem

With crystal meth

Distances over

Time cannot be shortened with

Our technology

(fuck...)

200 pages

Look up at the sky

Behold the impossibly

Far stars in the past

I'm just making a note of a personal milestone. This post will not be amusing or insightful. It won't be anything but a marker of where I am, and where I need to be. I will read this in one year's time and think, a late start, is better than no start. And it's not even that late.

Watch them burning on

Knowing it does not matter

And lie to yourself

It doesn't have to rhyme!

Her arm against the chainsaw

A monstrous mechanical maw

The pain continues to persist

Therefore she refuses to resist

And thus the saw is turned on

An instant later the arm is gone

Seeing her arm at her side

The pain in her head subsides

Unsure of what to do next

Her phone blinks from a text

Who could be texting her, now

And not thinking this through, ow

As the shock begins to wear off

She suppresses regrets with a scoff

She’s feeling dizzy, sleepy and hurt

She dreams of her nomadic life, in a yurt

And one last thought for her friends

To the lot of whom she frequently lends

Her countless books in mint condition

Only to get them back through extradition

Of the books of hers they’d keep

And not one for one final, deep sleep
She vehemently refuses to die

Her phone she spots with her eye

She dials using her good arm

To lure paramedics with her charm

Even though that’s not necessary

Later she finds out one’s named Larry

He asks her all sorts of questions

Trying to protect her from infections

He quickly dresses her wound

But he fears that she is doomed

He finally asks what did this to her

The ambulance now going much faster

Never too fond of perjury

She says “self inflicted injury”

Bedroom legs at 5 a.m.

I am sofa king
My domain is street fighter
Let me dazzle you

A challenger, a challenger, my kingdom for a challenger.

That's all I've ever wanted. Only a few have truly delivered. I revel in losing, it means I'm being challenged. It means I'm challenging myself to step up my game. Pun intended. That's about it, there's really not much more to it. I've been good at Street fighter for most of my life and will continue to do so until I die.

Maybe I won't die though. I am being a bit pessimistic, assuming I'll die. Maybe I'll transcend the boundaries of this life and live on in pixel form. I could come back as a Street Fighter arcade machine and live out my afterlife as two dimensional illustrations. But then how would I see? I would be flat and always facing my, also flat, opponent. That would be maddening. I would see nothing but a thin line that would get closer or further. I guess I would look that way to the computer anyway. So what does it matter.

Alas, that would suck. People who don't know how to play or play well, would play me. Pun intended. I would get sucked into fights I can't win. I would have to depend on his physical abilities. They pull me in promises of hardships. I receive little to nothing. One day I will find someone new. Coherency not necessary.

Do a hadouken
Right after you jump in
Make sure you link it

Jokes? I like jokes...

Hey you! don't touch that
Do you not know what that is?
It's a gun , of course

So some funny stuff is coming your way. Do you have that anticipation? Like when you're at a concert, a comedy club, a sporting event. Just before it starts, you're brimming with anticipation. It's almost too much to bear, as the curtains part, the lights dim, the spotlight centres. Even if the show sucks, you still had that anticipation, and that was fun, however short it may have been.

So back to the funny stuff. Are you ready? Here it is. Black people choosing to sit on the back of the bus. Really, guys? This is what we're doing now? Alright... And then there are Jews sending their kids off to camp for the summer. Really, guys? This is what we're doing now? Alright... Finally there are the Armenians who eat Turkeys for Thanksgiving. Actually that last one is pretty awesome. If you don't get it then don't worry about it. But I'm sure the people who read this are knowledgeable enough to get it. Notice how I didn't say educated enough? I know you did. Good job.

So this is the third paragraph that I've started with the word so. But I'm sure you've caught on to that as well. Here's another pat on the back. Well, a voucher for one anyone, redeemable the next time you see me in person (must print this blog entry and provide at time of redemption).

So that's about it. I hope you found that funny. If you didn't then so what? So you think you're deserving of funny, like it's owed to you or something? You've got some nerve. Whatever, you can suck it.

So leave a comment, subscribe, join the RSS, whatever you have to do to get me to know you like me or hate me. Just don't be indifferent. I couldn't bear that.

There's something coming
There's always something coming
Better be prepared

Joy Division

I just found this out
I mean I knew it happened
There's a name for it

She waits for him to come
His stench most fearsome
And just as quickly he leaves
She patiently waits for the next one

Terrible can’t begin to describe
The thing she’s endured in life
Not one of her choosing
Rife with pain and strife

Now with her belly swelling
Her hate would know no quelling
An unwilling participant
Of the child’s father there would be no telling

Even then she knows no rest
Continually questioning God’s cruel test
A part of her dies
Every time they ask “who’s next?”

When finally she does give birth
All she has in abundance is dearth
No one’s left to mourn her passing
Merciful is her exit from Earth

At his birth there is no joy
Crueler still is the sex, a boy
Better a culprit than a victim
The future owner of another dejected toy

Worry not for there is a happy ending
And your view of reality requires no bending
For war is perpetual and man will not know peace

And a bullet for each of these men is pending

I would not wish this
On any living creature
Except those who do

It's been a while

She's invisible
But only in the darkness
As if it matters

Vampires. They rape virgins, not break up with them, attempt suicide after hearing of the aforementioned virgin's death, then ask said virgin to marry him upon finding out she's still alive. They burst into flames when they sun's rays touch them, penetrate them even, making them quite the homophobic monsters. Violent lives, ending violently (<3 Alan Moore). They don't look like they went to town on glitter and other sparkly accessories. They live in castles and mansions and other places where they can brood. They don't live in close proximity to werewolves, and if they did, they would rip the face of their real estate agent off, prior to moving.

Werewolves. They don't have to be Native. I actually think that's pretty racist, in fact. They don't turn into giant wolves. They turn into wolf-type hominids. They don't walk around shirtless. Werewolves are not Matthew McConaughey. They don't turn on a whim. They need the full moon to be present.

Mormons. They don't write books. Anyone who has read anything by Stephanie Meyer can confirm this. They also believe black skin to be a sin. Oh and black people can as of 2004 (or something like that) get into heaven.

If you're going to reinvent something, don't make it shitty. Examples:

Vampires. Instead of dying when hit by sunlight, they hemorrhage internally. Prolonged exposure causes excruciating, messy deaths. No ashes, just a pile of indistinguishable meat and bones. No super strength, speed, hearing, sight, nothing. Just regular people that need to have human blood as part of their diet. Without it they get sick and potentially die. Oh and AIDs is a serious problem for these vampires.

Werewolves. They wear shirts. They're not all ripped and tanned and perfectly waxed. They only turn at night, moonlight being the catalyst. Once turned, they don't have any of their human memories. They don't kill for fun, only if they're hungry (eating at night before going out will ensure you don't kill any humans). They have a wolf's body and the head of a human (a very hairy version of their human face). They really enjoy the company of dogs.

Mormons. They don't believe what some asshole says when he reads from tablets that he has hidden in a hat.

Know that I love you
Even though I don't know you
Hard as that may be

That doesn't make any sense!

A spark from a fire
That had burned out long ago
It takes eight minutes

The landing is a clean one; as clean a landing as any. The passengers evacuate their seats, carrying their trophy hams. Outside on the tarmac, the welcoming committee awaits. It consists mainly of refurbished Victorian furniture, with a few world war 2 veterans thrown in for good measure. As the passengers leave the massive, winged, SUV, using the provided slip 'n slide apparatus, something strange begins to occur. Rather than welcoming the returning guests home, the committee began shouting obscenities. Being one to take offense, I retaliate with automatic fire from my ar-15. The crowd disperses, the furniture doesn't stand a chance. I mow through rows of antique chairs, dressers, tables. Hours later, I would find out that the cheese did in fact, not belong to anyone. But I digress, I began to reload when I noticed that my goat guide had dipped into my reserve of avalanche honey. I became infuriated at once. It had taken me years to extract the honey from the pores of bears, vacationing in Vienna during the uncle celebrations. I turn my weapon of indiscriminate life giving onto my former friend and ally. The goat returns the favour in kind. A small red line appears under my Canadian spelling. The lacking of any paragraphical formatting also becomes evident to me, as does the use of a word not yet in existence. There we stand, an old Ethiopian stand off. By now the passengers are going through the shreds of fabric and wood that once was their welcoming party; their eyes filled with pastry custard as they grieve. Neither the goat nor I mind any pay to this matter. In fact, the only thing that matters, to the two of us, is the shape of the moon's fast approaching crescent from underneath the matte rug. He blinks. I fire. The act of self preservation, echoed a thousand times over in the splattering of brain matter across the ballroom floor. He has children. I am aware of this fact. The casing evaporates before it hits the ground. I smile and hold up a roll of Mentos to an unseen audience; breaking the fourth wall, only, there is no fourth wall. There is just me. And then there is not.

They see each other
They smile uncontrollably
And they don't know why

God said, let there be _______

In the beginning
God decided to make man
After man made god

Light. That's what he said, and there was light. But at what point did he start saying things like, let there be cancer, rape, greed, genocide, extinction, and all the other fun stuff that makes our planet what it is today? When did god decide to just fuck his creations and instill in them everything that he, himself, did not embody?

What if god had said, let there be jello. Would there really have been jello? Or would the universe utterly reject such a ridiculous demand and nullify his will. Would the universe bend to gods will if god was a woman? Why do humans think that a supreme being would have a sex? Why would something omnipotent have the need for a sex? Let's just say god has a sex. Let's say that sex is female. Would the universe do the bidding of a woman more readily than that of a man? What if, and this is a hypothetical if, god didn't care?

As I understand it, the god that most people believe in has many human flaws. So let's say god is real and did create man. He or she, decided to create this vast universe, then just focus on a small tiny part of it. In this tiny corner of the universe it created a planet that was capable of sustaining life. It did not create any other planets that were capable of such a miracle because it is lazy. Then one day it decides to create life on this one planet that it's focused on. On it, it creates all sorts of life. But like most humans, it loses interest very quickly. After about a couple of years, it just says to hell with it and moves on.

On to what, or where? Who knows, who cares? What if it came back, and told us all it was there, watching over us. Would we accept it with open arms or would we bemoan it's existence because of all the suffering that we must endure? Who even cares.

This is my life, and it's ending one blog entry at a time.

Just a small town girl
Living in a lonely world
Took the midnight train
(Going anywhere)

One more for the road

The grass sways with the passing breeze. The trees form a barrier, barring entry to the natural light at the far end of the valley. She emerges from the darkness and into the valley. Her eyes require a moment to adjust to the light. It had been so long since the suns rays had directly made contact with her retina. The small river passing through the valley beckoned her. She strode across the field, her joints no longer hurting. At the base of the river she ducked her head down and took a drink.

The air around her crackled with anticipation of the coming thunder. She turned back to the forest, a large cloud was looming overhead. She took another drink, stared for a moment the river, that seemed to flow on endlessly, then headed back for the trees. This time she saw the lightning land somewhere among the trees. The thunder that followed didn't startle her though. It was only ever the first that would get her, she could and would adjust quickly.

In the forest she saw him sitting in a small clearing. She hadn't seen him in a very long time but she knew it was him. He didn't move to greet her, she was hesitant to approach him as well. All these years on her own, she'd forgotten what life with others was like. The rain had soaked him to the bone but he dared not move out of it. She refrained from entering the clearing but sat at the edge, still sheltered by the foliage above. They stared at one another. His head dipped but his gaze never left her.

The rain slowed to a drizzle, an acceptable level of wetness for her. She moved beside him and sat down. He lowered his head again, as if ashamed. She moved her face next to his, he smelled just like she remembered. Before they made contact, she woke up.

Huddled in a small corner of a burnt out building, in a nest of soggy cardboard and assorted plastic tarps. She got up, the pain in her joints had returned. Just outside the doorway that no longer housed a door, a grey pool of water was collecting. She took a drink on her way out. She paused in the middle of the street, the ash had started to cover her coat again. Nothing in sight ahead. Before she was able to turn back, a sudden force knocked her down.

A sharp burning sensation rushed through her chest. Blood oozed out of the small hole that had just been created seconds earlier. Numbness overtook her body, the pain in her joints disappeared. She closed her eyes one last time. Maybe she'd see him again.