Land Bound Coral Reefs

This day provided undeniable proof that the human shark does in fact exist.

Just visit an overcrowded UCI parking structure at 11:30 in the afternoon, and you will see them hovering everywhich way you look.

Just try not to get bit.

Seasonal Poison

Yeah the lights begin to fade
And the music dies
And while the speed of time begins to subside,
I fall through my bedroom floor.

Meditations on Various Peculiarities Pt. 1

California freeways:

The second fastest lane - This is the speeding lane. You speed at least 10 mph over the speed limit to keep your ass clear. This also doubles as a passing lane when someone is slugging it in the fast lane.

The fastest lane -------- This is the mega-speeding lane. You need to maintain at least 20 mph over the speed limit (this is at the minimum) to keep your ass clear. Usually this is not enough, as the bloodthirsty speed junkies are hitching to your bumper at breakneck speeds. How do they get away with this?

May I comment on the rising rage of being tailgated when you yourself are speeding? You feel obligated to cater to these maniacs and break the law in doing so. I gave that up.

What is causing these people to go apeshit?


Dogs and fetishes:

Dog 1: Dog 1 has a belly fetish. There is an almost pathological obsession with being scratched on the belly. Sure it feels good, but how far can we go?

Dog 2: Dog 2 has multiple fetishes. Licking of the face, and this is an addiction...the second fetish is of the yelling type. She likes to bark while dry humping other dogs. My god.

Dog 3: Water fetish and tile fetish are the deviations slapped on this one. Water everywhere. All the time. Laying on the tiles! Laying on the tiles! Take it easy man!

Dog 4: A living fetish. Likes to just sit there and fetish it up. Monstrosity.


And so we come to the conclusion: labeling a dog's fetish is a joke, and should not be taken seriously. This should also be true for human beings. Different people like different things.


I conclude for now.

Listlessly Restlessly Livid in a Plastic Cube

They've got my voodoo doll locked up somewhere. Some dark dingy warehouse with the light knifing through the dirt caked windows like banana lava lazer beams. Hell, even the God of the Sun wants a look inside but can't pierce the filth. Just making little funny patterns everywhere and casting light on ominous tools and tables and flooding the assailants in complete darkness. The dust is floating in cyclones in the beams of light. The place is full of it. A draft and the cyclones change direction, lighter than feather, graceful, fluid, an oil and water mixture.

They've got a hefty chunk of lead on the doll's chest. Best to keep me in short breaths,weak, in a lingering state of creeping panic. Not quite there. They've got the head in a miniature washing machine, built just for the occasion, all juiced up and everything, running on a 9 volt. Best to keep me off balance and spiraling in my skin. One of the doll's feet is knee deep in a tiny makeshift grave, the other delicately placed in a tiny bucket of warm water to keep the sensation of a hopeful but unfailing desperation running in cycles. Cycles like the washing machine and the trails of floating dust, its all spinning and graceful natural life.

Tricks? No. Just a bunch of excuses. Confabulation. Left brain cover-up nonsense. There's no voodoo doll of course, though I wish there were, so I could crash through the warehouse wall in my turqoise 95 Nissan Altima and take care of the evil tangible assailants with a few well-filled molotav coctails or something. You know, free my doll. Take the spell off, cause I know voodoo magic. Destroy the doll's remains. Get out of there. Feel so much better! What a weight that has been lifted off my chest! My head is so clear and lucid! I can walk just fine. It would be so simple.

We've been through this so many times. I've been through this so many times. In washing machine cycles. In dust particle cyclones. Here we go again.

Blogger has a glitch that gets stuck on the italics.

So I will finish promptly. There we go, fixed. Fixable....you see?

I think I just need to get back to school again. I think I just need direction again. I think that's what I need. Enough dilly-dallying. Leasure is so great for a while, and then it just kind of sinks into a general pseudo-insanity. For the restless anyway.

How nice it will be to grow old and to retire and to look back and be satisfied.

Yes! I am ready!


Piece.

Big Places Far Away

The mansion (maybe it was more of a compound) was built on a sort of floating foundation that sat right off the coast of Antarctica. The puzzling thing was that there were some green mountains in the distance, and the air had that thick, pleasant Carribbean quality to it. Everything was white, white as snow, even the air; there was a thin haze creeping around the compound, yet visibility was incredible and extended all the way to the out-of-place green mountains in the distance. Perhaps the haze was a result of the glaring white glow that surrounded us. The whole scene was just strange, as the compound just floated there in the arctic waters (which were clear as crystal and had a white mountainous ocean floor not far below). Strange creatures were jumping out of the water all around us, spraying the liquid crystal mist across our faces. Chilly on the face maybe, but I couldn't quite grasp how it felt.

This was a tropical winter wonderland, whatever that meant. I was still trying to decide what I was doing here.

How could I describe a place that I have never been to before that is so strange and unreal, yet so familiar? There were environmental contradictions everywhere, and they blended together to form a place that felt so right. So secure.

I was in the waters now. My body was bracing for the piercing cold, but the waters were a strange luke warm, almost neutral, like I wasn't in them at all.

There were creatures everywhere along the ocean floor. Some were like fish, some like mammals. Many of them had fur and spines and bright yellow eyes. One of them darted past me (a jet black monster of spikes) and in that moment I sensed a flick of intimidation. There were bad signals down here now, bad vibes. Was there danger here? Was there danger above? No, only a nervousness. A rising nervousness maybe? On the verge of panic? Where was this place? How did I get here?

After that, nothing. Nothing at all. There's a place out there, recurring.

The Sound of Heat

The summer is winding down now. Yes, it will still be hot for quite some time...until October, and maybe further, given the latest trends in climate, but summer as a mindset, as a way of living, is winding down.

It has been like waking up from a long, vivid, cohesive dream.

There are still gaps, still trouble in recollecting the entirety. What was I doing here? What did I say? What has happened to my mind?

The places I've been, the people I've seen...it seems like an eternity has passed. As I said before, the heat slows us down. And time is only of the senses. I've been through several warps actually, and I think they have twisted my mind in ways it has not been twisted before.

And it feels fresh and unnerving at the same time.

This dream meant something. A metamorphisis maybe. Or maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe it was another timeless summer to be remembered in the later years.

There were dreams within the dreams. Equally unnerving, equally fresh.

There was so much to say, yet so little to write. Pieces locked away forever.

The real question is where to go from here? What to do? The world has become a complicated place. But in a way, it is the same. I can't yet grasp why. In maturity.

I'm more than ready for the cold.

Illusions

Being as how the past is so prophetic, would it be such a stretch to call it the future as well?

But that conclusion has already been arrived at and suggested. Hard to wrap around.

And if you take enough hits you go down. That's how cancer takes hold anyway.