The Heavens

Full moon in tow, I jig in its light
This means one thing,
It is time to reap what I sowed.

Rays of moonlight filter through the smoky
Haze of smoke trailing up from my pipe,
It’s hard to jig whilst a lit pipe jostles amongst my teeth.
Nonetheless I have made my sacrifice of sweet,
Virginian tobacco to the heavenly moon goddess
To a good harvest, I pray.

Fire and brimstones not quite just yet

The lackluster days this has become dredges something fearful and funny inside. It’s all I can do to restrain myself from laughing like a maniacal madman. Call it moon voodoo or whatever you like, but these are trying times. Though no where near close to be considered friends, this uppity and whimsical character, went prematurely South for the Winter, far from its home on Wall Street. Some say, nay, it went South far much later than originally predicted. In any case, it’s good to be short in these times, especially if you’re into selling.

Candy-colored moon-lips on a Belgian waffle

Too many times things go hay-wire before someone grabs the reigns and keels the proverbial, “Woah!” By then, it’s too late, and we’re looking at the poor, unassuming guy with banana crème pie oozing down his face. Of course, it’s a lot easier for us to see the humor in it. After all, WE saw it coming. I mean, I saw it coming. That is why I stepped aside with my tongue sticking out, hoping to graze some of the banana crème as it whizzed by. I imagine it would taste better that way. But that’s not to say that everyone was as fortunate as I was. Who knows, maybe they were distracted by the m&m in red, high-heels strutting by. Personally, I wouldn’t mind the distraction of a nicely crisped Belgian waffle, strawberries on top, with a dash of whip cream to give it shape. Then again, some would like nothing better to see that m&m, red high-heels and all, doing the Cancan on said Belgian waffle. Too many distractions, especially if it means being faced with a flying pie.

Pumpkin Pie

The mere thought of pumpkin pie can cause an interminable yearning. As if hibernating the year until around Thanksgiving, showing its sweet, spicy self for a few weeks, the elusive pumpkin pie goes back into its place in cookbooks until around the same time the following year. By far my greatest weakness, I can hardly ever pass up pumpkin pie. Between its soft texture, and the flavors swirling around in my mouth, pumpkin pie conjures up a warm, sweet sensation through all my synaptic nodes. This past weekend was like pumpkin pie. In fact, nearly this past whole month has been something like pumpkin pie. I think I have found the secret to pumpkin pie. Hehe!

The Bitch With Its Bitch

3rd Street Promenade, Santa Monica. The white puppy seemed to know that I was taking a picture, and posed for a few good shots. The two dogs were chained to each other by the thick cable you can see. Around them, people were salsa-dancing to the music thumping down the middle of the walkway. These two did not seem to care to watch what crowds were gathering to see.

Colorado in Late Summer

Officer's Gulch, a few miles west of Lake Dillon on I-70. Maybe I shouldn't be telling too many people about this place. Friends, Tarek and Bryan, and I camped out a few hundred yards beyond the lake. We fished in the rain for all of the next day and caught nothing. needless to say, it was very relaxing and fun. Except for the getting-wet part.

Down the Barrel of a Colt 45

Reading Fathers and Sons by E. Hemingway, I come face to face again with the ugly beast that lurks behind shadows in my soul. How have I come to be here today? It seems to only get progressively worse and worse. This torment that racks my mind against itself, I fear, will consume me one day. The self-deleterious vision is clear. Sometime, before I knew what course I was set on, I sat in my seat and was tracked in without instructions on how to brake or to maneuver. Is it fair to tell my impending fate? Partly unaware, I have agreed to it, and nothing can possibly change it. It is more really a question of how long it will take and will others be ready for it?

Change.

I’m sure if I searched hard enough, I can find research articles on this subject. Lately, this has been an obsession of mine. Brought on by the quintessential question: “How can I change?” of course, in exploring this question, I came on to a few more. What is change, first of all. After some contemplation, I broke it down into two main categories: the real and perception. There are impetuses that cause change to the real, physical world. Scientific and technological discoveries are mainly in this category. The other deals with ways someone/something has led to a change in perception of the real world. For example, religion oftentimes tries to bring a “higher” meaning to the real world and its circumstances. Art can take colors, on a canvas and convey some feeling, thought, or idea in a new way.

Now, if you look at people and their careers/jobs, just about all jobs relate to one type of change or the other. I am sure there are jobs that accomplish both types of change. What type of change do I want to incur? So, part of the resulting theory of understanding how I can change is to direct that path into what I want to change or transform into. And further, to what level do I want to bring about change?

Breeding

For centuries, man has bred dogs to highlight certain traits and qualities. This includes appearance, stature, personality, and even mental abilities. Though humans have become even more diffuse in the last few centuries, were also part of their own, sometimes sub-conscious, selective breeding. As unpopular as the theory goes, and despite the flaws in the original argument for this, what’s there to disprove that certain groups of people have a higher capacity for intelligence? Studies have shown that DNA can alter its expression over a person’s lifetime, but that doesn’t preclude an individual from being already set with a certain selection of traits controlled by their genes.

Probability

Probability and mathematics are great for understanding many macro-related studies. Just as there is a certain probability that I will get a full-house as my poker hand, there are probabilities of survival, acceptance into a certain school, getting a job, etc. However, at the individual level, how often did the prospect of probability get in the way of one achieving something? Because there’s a 95% chance that a patient diagnosed with stage IV cancer won’t live past 3 months, should that person resolve to live no more than 3 months?

How does religion consider probability? They account for probability to the will of the god(s). Isn’t it convenient that either way of the outcome (either it happened or didn’t happen), the will of the god(s) have been executed?

My odds

Between the largely undeniable authority of the genes that control our life, and the probabilities that we are born into, what real chance do we have at controlling our destiny? What are the probabilities that change can be accomplished? I have come to terms with these Elements to some degree. And I am quite certain that the probability that I will live past 65 are very slim. True, there is an extent of a self-fulfilling prophecy such as that, but why fight it? Hell, it certainly makes looking down the barrel of a colt 45 much easier to swallow.

How to Disappear

Daydreaming leads to weird and inextricably twisted thoughts or questions. Google has fed this inner Beast that sometimes claws lecherously at my inner peace. What odd thought have I been ill-fated to importune this time? For various reasons I cannot state at this time (if ever), I pondered the ability to disappear and vanish that some people in movies and t.v. shows somehow so easily pull off. So I wondered how plausible this phenomenon (now more relegated to the fantasies portrayed more in Hollywood than probably in real life, ever) is to accomplish.

So I started googling to see what I can find on this concept. There is a surprising amount of information on this idea, which range in breadth, obviously related to why someone would want to disappear. There’s even this artsy concoction where one can “hide” for an undisclosed amount of time: http://www.oooms.nl (bottom right, “City Hideout”).

dag dannit

blasted, i sit down after a dozen blog-worthy ideas were floating around in my head only to have none settle into anything i can remember at the moment. talk about awful timing of sorts. well, suffice to say, i just felt my impetus to "pen" so to speak, crawl back into some weary cave for some brighter, sunnier days. til then, wah-wah-wee-wah! (-Borat, the Ali-G show)

well, hello there~

i think it quite fitting, in terms of the new year, the new blog, the new whatever-the-hell-you-think this is, that i start out with the following dialogue captured in one of my favorite childhood cartoons:

Pinky: What are we going to do tonight, Brain?
The Brain: Same thing we try to do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.

alas, like the ennui by these two comical rodents, i was this close (THIS CLOSE) from taking over the world last night. as solace for my many failed attempts, i will try a more subtle approach by supporting some twisted subversive, mind-numbing brainwashing.