Zeus says...

If you chew red cinnamon gum for an hour or so, and then spit it out and brush your teeth with a sort of minty-like toothpaste, you'll get:

COOL WATERMELON FLAVOR!

Right in your mouth!

Don't ask me, it just happened. Spread the word.

Could Have Run All Day

As I deleted the email, I said to the person I don't even know, "Eff you sucka!" And then I laughed to myself. Sometimes I make myself laugh. And it is those times that I am glad I am the only one in the room.

Today was not so bad.

The noise became a field of light that flickered green and sloshed all around the room like a strange suspended liquid. And as I drifted off to sleep it stayed shimmering in my head, and I was at ease. Warmth and glow and imagined light and noise put me into steady hibernation. Half an hour past. I awoke with a dry mouth and a slight headache. But I was at ease.

All that fuss was certainly foolish. But not a waste. Experience is experience whether good or bad.

Aspirin would be a good choice right now.

You were right, Descartes. You can't trust shit. You should have said that right in your book, Descartes, you should have said, "You can't trust shit". Instead of something to do with matter being uncertain and corporeal things not being positively real, and that the only thing you could trust is the fact that you are a thinking mind and that there is a god. And those we can't even trust anymore, what with all these new crazy theories and contraptions, right? I would have understood Descartes, I would have understood. You're still a cool cat, man. You're a cool cat. From way back.

-The Piece

Headache My Head It Hurts

Altitude sickness maybe.

I find it so hard to coexist. Most of the population can pull it off without thinking twice, and maybe I envy that, along with many other things. For me it is like running a marathon. It takes effort, and I get tired. I can't keep up. I can't. This race is on a track of ice and everyone has studded shoes except me.

I don't think I have what it takes.

But when I think in terms of being me, instead of terms of fitting in, the optimist in me comes out of an erratic series of comas, and I decide that this is worth it. And then my envy fades like breath on glass. My envy turns to pity, and my pity turns to scorn, and then I am disappointed in myself for regressing into an elitist (an elitist is backwards too, yes).

I bounce back and forth through periods of emotional discomfort in opposite poles. I visit each side of the spectrum in my stroll. The inertia catches up.

And then I am once again reminded and I revert back to the middle in a state of neutrality. None of this matters. The apathy floods relief into my friction-scorched psyche. I am the needle in the gauge returning to a state of rest.

Apathy is sometimes a necessary evil. Or is it apathy at all? And apathy is only evil to the right person, given the right situation.

Doubt creeps with the shadows. And then I stop thinking, because now I am powerless. I am running in circles. And logic becomes an infinite regress. I'll make it finite for now.



Finally, I cannot come to a conclusion because I don't even know what my own mind is trying to prove.

I'll close my eyes to sleep.

-The Piece

Math (No metal this time)

I found a pattern for Blame and Fault today. It looks sort of like this (In linear form):

@----->@------> @------> @------------------------------>

Each person blames another for strife, and we get a sort of telescoping structure of fault. The structure is different for certain situations, and if you were to put it all together, you would get a large branching lightning bolt, with some branches shorter than others. You see, some people let the blame rest on themselves, and thus the branch stops. But even more people blame another person or structure. And this is what keeps the link moving. That last longer arrow represents the mathematical ray. It couldn't really be a line, because the line of blame is not infinite. Usually if it goes past all possible human beings on the planet it stops at God or Nature or some other abstract point. Maybe there are circles of blame, which curve back to the original sender, but I have not yet figured that out. We also have individuals that blame each other, and maybe then we get a parabola or circle. Or some other structure. Oh I don't know. Maybe now it's not much of a lightning bolt.

These patterns will not leave my head. I am ok with that. Math runs things.

I don't care for Math, but I do understand its incredible power. And Math itself is not some entity to which we pay tribute. Math is our understanding of an incredible structure beneath the surface of it all that we have yet to discover.

Mark my words.

It leads me to admit that I probably do believe in a god. Just not theirs. I find it impossible that the intricacies of this world were created by chaos and accident. Accidents create twisted metal, disarray, and shapeless puddles...not perfectly symmetrical snowflakes and fur patterns. Or do the shapeless actually have shapes that we haven't figured out yet? Then again, the answer may be above my level of comprehension.



Whoever reads this blog and whoever actually gets through this post: I love you.

The Toothbrush

The breaking in of a new toothbrush is both sensational and unpredictable. You just don't quite know what to expect.

Mine happens to be a model by Gum; it is a soft brush. And the unnecessarily fat handle of the brush itself has too large of a diameter to fit in the holes of the toothbrush jar.

I am pleased with the brush itself, but dissatisfied with the odd and exaggerated form.

Curses.

Oh, what purgatory!

-The Piece

Fear And The Drifting Of Morning Fog

I straddled a series of small explosions as I traversed a great glittering channel of crushed stone and tar, grey surfaced and stretching seemingly to infinity. The black cloud above towered over the stretching landscape and dominated the horizon with a looming shadow of darkened prestige. Keep churning, my favorite combustion engine, keep churning to fuel my path through this bustling collection of monolithic towers and wire infrastructure. I could not comprehend the complete dissection of the world before me, and I felt an almost animal repulsion to the immediate surroundings. These structures were built for our own comfort to move on this planet, and they only served to frighten and bewilder me to an aloof state of daydream. Red lights bleeding vertically past the peripheral, perpendicular to the horizantally-stretching surface I moved across. The light retreats back into itself and sharpens into a perfect sphere. Oh, brakelights. And Death approached my door and rapped on the glass with his bleached-white knucle bones; his exposed jaw was twisted in a seemingly wry grin, and he turned and left into the black cloud above. And the forces of gravity and friction kicked in to stop the moving mass before it could be reformed into an accidental work of art.

Human beings are incredible. And I don't want to be a part of them either.

If the greatest human fear is fear of the unknown, and if an enveloping fog is the bringer of the unknown, then logic would have it that fog tows fear with the deliberation and power of a two car freight train.

Beauty sometimes precedes the wall of terror that is panic.

And fog is beauty.

-The Piece

A Short Message Followed By The Unmistakable Whisper Of A Subsonic Gunshot

Winter quarter features a terrible schedule complete with ridiculous classes (except one, and maybe two since I'm feeling especially generous).

I'm going to bed soon. I had to edit this post a few times. Exhaustion/frustration inspired typos. This week needs to end.

-The Piece


Ffffft.

The Creeping Discomfort of Respiration

I was the first one at the building. No one was in sight. I was overtaken with the notion that maybe this wasn't the first day back after all. They all laughed at me from their unseen vantage points that lined the courtyard. But it was the first day. They started to trickle in. I was inside now. I was sitting in one of the back rows. They talked, and laughed, and greeted one another, and I watched as always. I felt like a creep sitting back there in agonized silence. I was a creep sitting back there in agonized silence. I was ok with that. I had nothing to say and so I rested. I rested and watched. I rested and watched and listened to the new professor, who was painfully boring. Oh but he meant well. And we will give him the medal anyways.

It's all ok, really.

I guess I was pretty tired. Drifting in and out of sleep the entire day. I kept imagining things I had to do and places I had to be that never even existed in this world.

There's a sort of pergatory that lies between full consciousness and sleep. Anything goes in there. Anything.

And so my hand rested on the armrest and I took time to convince myself that it was mine.

Did I mention the creeping discomfort of respiration?

I breathe. So do you.

It starts to become uncomfortable if you concentrate on it too hard.

I think I recently realized the purpose of light in abstract terms. Abstract human terms, to be relative.

-The Piece

Dot Dot Dot...And Spatters Of Blood?

Lately my life has been metaphorically similar to wiping off the ice on a frosted window. This is of course me wiping off ice on a frosted window to see inside myself in an elightened glimpse of introspection, and not someone else wiping the ice off of my frosted window...which could have sexual implications that aren't really there. Sex? I don't know a thing about it. "Oh you see it on TV and Movies all the time". Shit no. I'm not talking about that.

But back to introspection and the movies. Or just introspection. I'm looking around inside myself; like a sort of limited telescopic illusion where I myself am standing inside my own head and dusting for the most curious of clues. And not CSI clues. Because I am tired of that show and our country's obsession with it. We are the modern Victorians. We are the mischievous children who revel in deliberately doing what the overly strict parents had so forbiddenly expressed not to do. Yada yada yada. I can't believe I just said that. I am all tangents tonight, with more branching connections than a neural network. But it doesn't matter because I am just writing for the sake of writing. It is kind of nice when I don't have a particular audience that I have to worry about.

But back to something that I wasn't even talking about in the first place. Nerf is an incredible company worthy of the highest praise. Nerf has made the fun war possible...if those two words can even begin to coexist. Well, Nerf makes them coexist anyway, in the context of foam ordinance. Everyone is talking about Nerf. Just look and see. Or listen and hear...if it is spoken words you are trying to take in. It could be auditory or visionary. It depends on your preference I guess.

My speakers came in. My home theater. When I saw the box I literally said "Fuck yes" out loud. I was alone, take note. Fuck yes.

...

Blood spatters.

I don't know. I can't even think right now. I'm a bubbling brook of bullshit.

At least the ants care for it. They care.

Ants care.

-The Piece (They say it hurts to get shot. Me? I don't want to find out! No!)