Wednesday, November 9, 2005

Wait... Are There Zombies In It?

It was all an accident. When I was a little kid (I mean, little to the point where I'm not sure if I remember this directly or if I've told the story enough times where I remember the telling better), I had a very overactive imagination. My backyard was an invisible zoo that, according to my mom, I maintained pretty regularly. I made up stories about people I'd never met. I went to this fake beach place in Opelousas that had a giant dragon right in the middle of the lake that shot water outta it's mouth (except the head was broken off, so the water just shot up outta it's neck like in a Miike movie), and spent the rest of the week quizzing my mom on how they made the water come out of there.
Cute, huh? yeah, I was a precious little starry-eyed white kid.
Of course, along with all the neato anecdotes I provided my mom with in those days, there's also a downside to childlike wonder. I suffered pretty regularly from sleep paralysis, which took the form of a witch who threw spiderwebs on me from up on the ceiling (my dad's solution worked. He told me she couldn't get me if I didn't sleep on my back. I still habitually sleep on my side and cannot fall asleep on my back. He never thought to tell me the true reason for what was happening or that there was no such thing as witches). There was a skeleton that grabbed my feet and tried to pull me outta bed alot. My mom solved this by telling me to sleep with the covers all the way up to my neck (to this day, if it's 100 degrees  or freezing, I can't fall asleep without being cocooned up in my blanket. The actual existence of my antagonist never even came into question).
The first time I ever saw a human handle a snake was when my older cousin got a python for a pet. The idea had never even crossed my mind that snakes weren't just evil monsters whose only purpose was to bite you. That night, my mom ended up having to call my uncle (who lived elsewhere. I'm not sure what the connection was on this one) and wake him in the middle of the night so he could tell me he was not on my wall, and not a snake.
The first scary movie i can remember wasn't a movie, but a TV show called NightStalker and there was this headless motorcycle guy who fast became my hero and my bedtime tormentor, both at the same time. I made up alot of stories about how cool he was and what he had jumped over today and who he scared and shit like that, but, when it was time for sleep, he made up the stories for me, and I usually ended up in my parents' bed or in my sister's room, on the floor. 
I'm sure there were plenty other things that freaked me out in that time, but he stands out in my memory. He would later be replaced by Jason Voorhies and his lovely mom. 
I don't feel all that old until I think about shit like this. There was a drive-in movie a couple miles from our house. I haven't seen one of those since. The whole world was a different color back then. I can't explain it if you weren't there. It was simpler, especially in Eunice. My mom got in a big fight with my dad when she came home with our first VCR. She bought it from some doctor at the hospital for $500. USED!!
There was beta max before that, but people lost interest pretty quick. The first thing we watched on it was ON GOLDEN POND. There were some nasty words in that movie and I thought that was pretty neat. Being raised Southern Baptist, we weren't normally exposed to all that. First, we weren't allowed to watch R-rated movies. I'm betting there were plenty PG ones my mom kept us away from too. This worked until we started seeing shit at my aunt's anyway.
Then, my mom started the rule where she had to watch it first and see where the nasty parts were and then, if it wasn't something with ONLY curse words, she'd watch it with us and fast-forward the dirty mom...a female...with a VCR we saw the sex scenes about 3 or 4 times instead of once, in fast motion, backwards and forwards, while my mom fought a losing battle with the physics of video tapes.
After a while, she let up some more and resulted to letting us watch shit with her for the first time and just yelling: "TURN YOUR HEADS!". Wwe watched FRIDAY THE 13th parts 1 & 2 back to back and it literally devastated me. I didn't show it during the first one, but, by halfway through the second, I was thinking ahead to bed time and starting to really worry. I think my mom noticed, so we watched TIME BANDITS right after, to kinda cleanse the palette, but... 
my dad used to get really sick of me trying to sneak into their bed without waking them up.
EVILSPEAK was the next big stumbling block on the way to my becoming a normal little kid. We were raised Baptist, so I had only really thought of the devil as the red guy with the tail that you would go see if you were a bad person. Now, all of a sudden, there was this new concept of a devil that could come looking for me. What was worse, the protagonist is the one who conjures up the devil, gets possessed, and goes on a brutal murdering spree full of decapitations, impalings, pigs running around ripping people apart, 5-point-stars burning into things... the big Satanic choir in the soundtrack has played in my mind at least once a day since that first experience.
I can't, without undergoing hypnosis, describe the traumatic effects of this film on my silly little mind. I remember promising God I would never watch another movie like that if he'd just promise not to let Coopersmith (Clint Howard's character in the movie) come floating up through my floor, eyes all glowing, disembodied voices singing operatically in Latin, with a giant sword, poised to chop me in half where I lay.
It was agonizing. I was fully immersed in this nightmare. My parents tried like hell to ban me from any further exposure to this madness...but I wanted more.
Don't ask me how I pulled this off, but I managed to stay home and watch THE THING with my mom before my sister or my dad got to see it. I think I mighta been sick... anyway, my mom wasn't too thrilled with all the f-words (definitely a record number as far as my movie-watching history was concerned), but she knew it had an all male cast, so there was little possibility of me seeing some boobs or anything.

What I saw was the most amazing and influential thing I'd ever seen. It was twice as dark and serious as anything I'd witnessed up to that point and the gore just seemed to come out of the screen. There was enough blood and goop and nasty-stretching-shit to literally drown all the other films I'd seen before. The hero wasn't an innocent little blond girl who just wanted to be a good camp councilor. There wasn't really a hero. The whole group was a buncha toughguy assholes who already didn't necessarily trust each other BEFORE a shape-shifting alien started killing and imitating them, slowly taking over their entire antarctic camp.
I didn't have nightmares about it. I probably dreamed about it plenty, but it didn't torture me. I was already interested in sci/fi since STAR WARS and THE BLACK HOLE and this film graduated my interest to obsession. I got notes to my mom alot cause instead of taking notes, I'd be drawing people who's heads pulled themselves free of their bodies, grew spider legs and ran down the hall. My mom fussed alot, but she never sent me to a psychiatrist or anything stupid like that.
DAWN OF THE DEAD is the next big one I can remember. Jesus, I musta watched that shit 5 or 6 times in a row that first day. This was the first time i discovered that a movie could be truly horrifying, and still hysterically funny throughout.
These were the days before Blockbuster, when little mom&pop video stores ordered their VHS tapes (you could still get beta at some places) from a salesman who had a full catalogue of cheapo horrors that he guaranteed would pay for themselves in one or two rentals. That was the golden age of movie rentals. There was this little store in Branch (right between Church Point and Mowata) that we'd drive out to that my mom would have to drag me out of kicking and screaming nearly every time.
They had the best shit in the world. Because of them, me and whatever of my friends and family were lucky enough to be around, got to see such beautiful spectacles as: SQUIRM, MICROWAVE MASSACRE, 2,000 MANIACS, WIZARD OF GORE, BASKET CASE, FROGS, MOTEL HELL, etc. 
All that, and about 100 others I can't even remember were just sitting, right there on the shelf, next to KRAMER VS. KRAMER and 10 and ROCKY. I can't even walk into a Blockbuster or Hollywood Video without a familiar wave of nausea accompanied by the knowledge that whatever I leave there with, it'll never be as cool and I'll have settled for it.
I missed EVIL DEAD, but EVIL DEAD 2 caught my attention when it first came out and I rented it and watched it alone one night. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It seemed unfair that there was no one else around to witness such genius. I swear, I had to rewind it a couple times cause I was laughing so hard, I'd miss the next gag. Then, it was over and I was all creeped out.
Up until then, the evil was usually in the form of a killer or monster or the devil or SOMEthing. Now, it could be random. I remember talking about it with someone and we decided that the "Evil Dead" was the movie itself and it was trying to kill it's own characters. I mean, what the fuck do you do when everything around you might, at any moment, come to life and try to do you in?
 I love this idea. It's liberating and challenging.
I think really far into stupid shit. It's awesome when it's something cool to think about. It's murder when it's something I shoulda just forgotten by now, but I have to turn over every single possibility until I'm not even sure what really happened any more. This, I find, clouds my judgement sometimes and I don't do everything as logically as I should. I'm aware of it, but it's not something I feel capable of controlling. The by-products are depression, misunderstandings, constant confusion, awkwardness... you name it.
One of the less serious side-effects is that I still think someone's sneaking around my room at night sometimes. I still have to take off running when I convince myself that someone's following me down a dark hall. I have a life-size doberman statue that moves sometimes just to fuck with me.
I've also convinced myself once, that my brain patterns were being projected into my crackhead neighbors' apartment and driving them crazy and that's why they try to throw each other down the stairs every night. You gotta reach a certain level of pompous paranoid-schizophrenia to get up in some shit like that. I hope i'm not being judged by some cosmic overseer for all these things that swim uninvited through the murky swamp that is my subconscious, cause they'd have to make up a whole new hell to fit my soul into.
Going to hell scares me. Not because I believe in it, but because... what if? Alot of things scare me for that reason.
What if?
It's my two favorite words in the English language. It's also the two muthafuckas that keep me up all night wondering exactly how cool I would think it was if I was really seeing Godzilla marching toward me, smashing the shit outta everything in his path. 
THE GRUDGE scared the fuck outta me just because it went right into how my mind works. It's terrifying to always be thinking that: IF I CAN'T SEE IT...IT'S PROBABLY THERE.
Fuck the plot. Fuck Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Fuck Ju-On and The Ring and the whole argument about American remakes of Japanese movies... whatever.
In my dreams, if I'm walking down a hallway toward a bedroom with 2 beautiful, naked girls, I'm guaranteed to look behind me at some point and know before doing so, that something fucked up will be there coming for me. If I'm opening a door, I know before hand that there will be zombies on the other side. I've listened to the subconscious argument in my own brain as one side said:
"Aww, come on. Let the dude go have sex. It's a dream. Let's do this."
while the other said:
"Man, you KNOW somebody's about to come outta those shadows with red eyes and Satanic theme music and a sword."
I hate being scared... but I sure love being scared. I INSIST on being frightened. I'm an optimistic person, yet I spend most of my time (awake or asleep) thinking of the worst-possible-scenario.
I dream about the apocalypse whenever I'm not dreaming about unholy evildoers. This is not a buncha shit I think is "pretty cool". This is all I think about. People who know me can probably describe the blank expression that washes over my face during normal conversation better than I can. It's not to be rude. I try like hell to give a fuck about whatever you felt it was important for me to know about your friends who I never even met and their painfully dull misadventures. I can't help it that somewhere in the middle of paying attention, my brain no longer can translate the words I'm hearing.
It doesn't mean I don't LIKE you. Some people don't take very well to my social ineptitude and it certainly limits the amount of friends who actually LIKE to hang out with me, but the ones that DO can always be certain that we won't be having the same conversation they just had at work, on their smoke break, with people they wouldn't hang out with if they weren't forced into the same building all day, every day. Do I ever wish I was someone who thought about dial tones and spinning rims and dropping GHB in some chick's drink downtown, or God-forbid... money?
I can't even imagine it.  

Sunday, November 6, 2005

I Hope We All Go Out Smiling

I hope we all get to go out smiling,
like pretty little angels,
who understood it was their time to go,
and fully grasped the angle

that the energy created could not be destroyed.

that history created is impossible to void.

everything's gonna be ok, huh? 

just put your hand over your heart.

i hope we all go out fucking,
and that's the truth of it,

no inhibitions, all-out, freaking out on each other, fucking.

fucking big giant ball of apocalyptic crazies fuck-fucking.

partly because it would be like the final exam for the
monkeys who started out as single-celled organisms and became
monkeys who learned to walk upright and became
monkeys who learned to drive cars who became
 who loved to wage wars who became
 who loved printed shavings of the trees they'd climbed down from

and would kill just to have 'em,

and pretty much stayed that way right up until God bagged 'em,
and that would be a pretty funny joke to play on God

when he came back to check how we did, i think...

like the whole planet stuck their butter-finger in the air

while they were humping the living crap outta each other,

finally united in one common short-term goal, like good sisters & brothers,

and, in one final, convulsing thrust,

all died in mid-orgasm,
leaping into the next plane of existance together...

thus, forever tricking the Holy Math Books

into confirming that the human race 
was a tremendous success,
those fucking monkeys musta been blessed,

and now it becomes the blueprint for the new shit

and we'll dig in our noses when they can't figure what to do with it,

and rub the world off on the side of the creator's chair

and he's back-to-the-old-drawing-board
 when he figures out why we put it there.

plus, i just like sex alot, so that would be the coolest thing to be doing right at the end of the world, probably.


Monday, October 24, 2005

Where My Eyes Don't Go

This is perfect. It's 12:44pm and I been up since 8am after sleeping since about 5:30am. I'm insane and tired and drinking a pot of coffee before work. Insomnia's a sneaky motherfucker. One minute I'm all grinning and curlin up in my bed for a long fall nap, the next, I'm smoking a cigarette, sitting up staring into the lamp, wondering:


I mean, if you've seen half as many horror or sci/fi movies as I've subjected myself to, you have to have come across the situation a few times. There's a Stephen King short story where a guy gets a circle of eyes on his chest. In THE GATE, that kid gets an eye in his hand after the King Shit demon grabs it, on The Twilight Zone that guy gets one on the back of his head (all tucked in his hair too. that bugs me alot). I seen one on a dude's shoulder on some old sci/fi movie...there's some I'm forgetting, I'm sure, but you get the point...if there is one, anyway.
What continuously crawls up and down my ever-slouched backbone is this:
What would be your perception of that? It's not like you'd feel it open and see it there. I'm thinking your brain would cut a flip in your head when, all of a sudden, your field of vision just went almost completely panoramic. Would it even process correctly right away or would it just be all fuzzy and unfocused?
What if it was in your hand? Where would your perception of the field of vision be located in comparison to where you see from now? Would your reality need to grow a splitscreen? Would there be some kind of visual feedback if you pointed your hand at your face?
I think only a select few minds could handle this. Maybe I'm over-reacting. Maybe you'd just like, stop whatever you were doing at the time and say:
"...Dude...", or maybe...and this seems twice as bad as that first situation...maybe you wouldn't even be able to see out of it.
Immediately, the reaction would be a little easier for your brain to make sense of, because your perception of reality would not be effected...but the question would definately come up at some point:
"Who's Seeing Outta That Thing?", and it's obviously not somebody who put it there to help you, right? I mean, it takes a certain level of evil to be able to go around spontaneously applying new organs to people and getting them all hooked up right, the first time and everything. Pretty much, the most evil muthafucka you can think of still does not have this evil-ability. Let me know, but I doubt it...this is like Lovecraftian, ancient evil type shit. This is the kind of evil that throws science out the window and just does whatever would be scary. This is that evil that comes flying outta the woods, through the cabin and throws Ash up against that fuckin tree and possesses him. This isn't Satanic evil. This is completely Random Evil and it'll fuck Satan up every time cause it can do just whatever's scary at the time and it don't need no opera singers to chant about it when it's around and nobody has to dress up like The Vampire Lestat. It just happens.
I gotta go get dressed for work now. No matter how many times I achieve a state of "not thinking about eyes opening on the back of my head", I know, and accept, that there will be, at least, an equal amount of time spent trying to see what's going on behind me. I just hope I'm not using a knife or playing with fire at the time.
I fuckin hate being me sometimes...

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Is That So Wrong?

all I ever wanted was to define abstract space,

to put my hand out in front of this mortal's face

and point at nothing,
and have these simple human eyes

understand how to look at nothing and see it

instead of what was behind it.
all I ever sought was the origin of wind,

not Easterly or cold and from the north,

but where this particular breeze
 scrapes itself across my frame, thus stunting its tide,

actually originated.
all I ever needed was the simple truth,

if i'm wasting my time in this era of humanity

or if it's necessary that I witness this particular

awkward stage in the growth of mankind

and the universe that envelopes it.
all I ever started all this shit for was to be

the best monkey I could be,

the ugly one with all the stupid questions,

who refers to himself as wz3d,

who tries to look further than his God-given oculars can see,

and differentiate between the puzzle pieces,

the lock and the key,

who's heroes never got to the top of the hill they stormed

but they fell facing forward, Goddamnit.
Who gives a fuck about those other assholes,

who were trained since birth to perpetuate
 the centrifugals that already showed

no sign of slowing, anyway?

of course they had their day.

Their book was already complete before they were born.

All they had to do was follow the steps on the pages torn

until the innevitable end and a comforting blank space,

and now the story's not as important 
as the author's face,
or even his dog's name

and how many other stories he'd already written

before you were even a twinkle in history's pants.
("and i'm just burnin, doin the neutron dance")


Thursday, October 6, 2005

When In Doubt, Whip The Old Shit Out

*I'm riding on a wave of coffee, lortab 10's, extremely aggravating pain in my foot & 12.8 days of ITUNES on shuffle. I could just stare at the monitor or I could go for one of my favorite procrastination-denial tools, which is...recycling shit I wrote years ago when I find something that I can tolerate, cause it's hard to accept that I wasn't always exactly the way I am now. Here's a buncha short crap i dug up a while ago...*

He laughs politely and shrugs the invitation,

"gotta work in the morning, man."

and looks inside for who would make better company.

where have all my friends gone?  

[that's the hermit talking. i hate that dude sometimes]

I'll tell you, shitfuck,

they've gone to feed from the trough of the "haves".

They fuck only choice-cuts of the "well-to-do".

You are not invited.

Your clothes are old and your teeth are yellow,

you've got no 5-year-plan, except:
"Not This".
How far can you stretch the boundaries of a reality 
that has already imprisoned you? 

[i really kinda hate this one now that i've read it and typed it and proof read it. wish i could remember exactly where i was that day]

Wisdom In The Water

Swim to the bottom and time goes there with you

draining blood that man once held sacred,

reckless endangerment is your just inheritance,

slicing at nothing when all that is left

are the half-eaten droppings
of what once was.
They know how to stop it
but no one wants to.
talking and talking
and talking
endless talking.

the truth hurts 
the well employed.      

[ooooohhhh. deep.]
Captain Humanity

Today my name is no one and no one is my name today,

give me your time and I'll take you're time away.
I cannot respond to everyone
I can only save the most important ones,
I can hear you when you cry
but sometimes people have to die...

even the heroes must make a living these days.

Maybe i'm just some creep.
(i've still got feelings)

I'm inside all of you.
(but you can't be allowed)

cats out of trees,
old folks across the street,
I'll save the world,
and then you'll like me.

I pretend i'm bigger than something you can't be bigger than,

recognize your need for superiority, but you must believe:

I am all there is until the day you pass,

a concept just beyond your grasp...

Sometimes God answers your prayers through the actions of man.

Sometimes God speaks in a language you won't understand.
Captain Humanity
(i won't die sleeping)
I'm inside all of you
(we help no one)

cats out of trees,
old folks across the street,
I'll save the world,
and then you'll like me.
why don't you like me?  

[this is a song I wrote for me & B4A while he was beginning what would be the Moon Fly Syrup lp. There's a half-ass decent recording of it somewhere. I'll put it up on my Myspace]

i was up all night, thinking of a way to tell you:

spontaneity is dead in the world. 

[seemed funny at the time]

Every last thread of clothing I own is either stained or torn.

My car makes weird noises.

My house is a temple to the gods of fast food 
and cigarette butts past.

You'd better accept me for who I am 
unless you're looking to use me for my Playstation.

[this was during the first 6 months i lived in the cave and all I had was a beanbag and abuncha movies and a playstation]

Taking a shit is like a report card for the day before. 

[i was hanging out with James X and that's just the kind of conversations we seem to have] 

9 years. you will be my greatest failure. 

[i'd love to know what the hell was going on here.]

Some guys can hook up car stereos.

Some guys can give a woman an orgasm.

I suck at hooking up car stereos. 

[hell yeah! i must've been pretty full of myself that day. what can i say? i'm hoping that whoever made me feel like that wasn't faking it to make me try harder. HAH!]

the first time they meet - they know that it's no passing thing.

the first time they laugh - they understand

the first time they fall - they shove their fists into the wall

and vow that this end may not beseach them again.

the first time they smile - instinct guides them all the while

the first time they win - they can't lose

the first time life - reveals it's hidden teeth to them

they shove their heads into the sand 
and set fire to their muse. 

[this was gonna be this Bad Religion-sounding punk song, but I chunked it cause it sounded too much like Bad Religion. Go figure. I like some of these words, though]

they've come to collect the bodies

and tally up the winnings,
the spoils of victory
  will gather dust in trophy rooms
to serve as examples to the world:
"my consumers are my asset.
don't fuck with production." 

[i'm so political, dude]

gaping, toothless kiss

with that slight spattering of saliva,

that never bothered to be swallowed,

and now strings its participants

like a tether, conjoining disgusted lips

to something resembling a badly abused vagina. 

[i don't know, man. maybe i was trying to gross myself out or maybe i was way drunk at Changes right before that and some disgusting-ass bar hag made out with me. neither would surprise me]

"here is your special sauce."

"it's new and improved."

"it's fun to eat."

"it's an after-school treat."

"9 out of 10 moms choose it over the leading brand."

what's the matter with you?

eat it, Goddammit. 

[i always felt cheated when things just weren't as fun to eat as the kids in the commercial made it look]

If ever we should meet

in that far-away land that we both 
claim to dream of,

turn your eyes away
 and pretend not to know me.

If i'm going to be someone I'm not,

I don't want you to screw it up for me. 

[this is about one of those "friends" that you're not sure when you accumulated them...they just kinda were there...and they try so hard to convince you that they see everything exactly the same way you do but it just smacks of bullshit]

It starts all over every time i see you.

I don't expect you to love me,

I just try so hard to wish it 
into existance,

that I trick myself into believing

that it should have worked.
like a mad scientist
struggling to find the formula
of you,
until he has exhausted
his useless resources,
and still has no clue
of how to attain
the unattainable,
or why he should just stop trying.
I can't stop trying. 

[Jesus Fuck...I purposely buried this in the back because of it's undeniably gay content. Sorry to drag you through that if you went along for the ride, but I like that it says "I can't stop trying." All dramatic and shit and now, I'm sitting here trying to remember exactly who it's about. Guess i CAN stop, but I bet I wouldn't have listened to that at the time.]

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

The Human Race Stole The Soul

*attention human beings: how you gonna sleep when your left foot seems to think it's covered in starving, fucking ravenous ants? for some reason, it feels better on the arm of the couch in front of the stupid desk, so...*

Yahweh Prophet

Coast2CoastAM Story


That was one of the coolest things I thought coulda happened this year...kinda poo'ed out in the end, but I dug the guy. At least he had something to show you, goddammit. People went to war on this planet over weapons they never even saw and still haven't been shown...more than once!!
Fuck it. I wish Yahweh Prophet woulda brought down an entire fleet of ufo's that wiped our punk asses out "Mars Attacks"-style. Nothing cool happens anymore. The future is a fucking ripoff.
I don't want a flat-screen t.v. I want a fucking chip that goes into my brain and makes me think I'm a 19-year-old-girl taking a shower, like Strange Days said I'd get. I don't want a 4-door pickup, I want to Jaunt, Stephen King Style- where you lay on a little cot, a stewerdess gasses you out, your particles are seperated and accelerated and rebuilt into "you" at any other destination anywhere in the universe in less than a second (unless you're foolhearty enough to try to stay awake, in which case your conscience is aware of the entire experience which lasts about 1 million years in your memory and seems to make people wanna gouge their eyes out).
Imagination is confined to fiction. The simple observers compliment themselves on how clever they are and go back to work rotating bottles of Yoo-Hoo to see if the "cap's not sitting on there right" (I did it for about 2 weeks with B4A. It's pretty hypnotic). Nobody thinks in practical application of the cool shit, but somehow, they've already figured out how to turn real life into a Coca-Cola commercial and vice versa.
Are there NO MADMEN? I mean, not like these pussies that exist within the system like Hussein & Bush and all the war-guys like that, but just FREE-AGENT-TECHNO-PUNK-CRAZY-MUTHAFUCKAS? 

Some kid figures out nanotechnology in the early 90's and has this machine in his garage he been working on and it gets to the point where his mom asks what's up and all of a sudden the plug's pulled, the machine's taken apart, and the dude's like, drafted or something...I read that in "The Pleasure Of Finding Things Out" by Richard Feynman.
Good book...but my point is, what do they have that guy doing these days? You know? And, also, how many more kids were figuring it out at the time and what are THOSE guys doing these days?
Diseases suck. Clee's been telling me about this superflu in the birds in Asia and how scientists and doctors have been saying to catch up for a while now,  cause it wants to jump to humans now and we gotta get crackin on this shit now. I mean, that scares the fuck outta me. Chemical warfare...all that nasty shit... that's what scares me about zombie movies...there's no dignity in that crap.
But really...where's the guy who can appear in some bank vault and disappear with all the money cause of some machine his retarded son made? These aren't about ALIENS or some other force we can't control. It's HUMAN IDEAS and in an alternate universe, they already exist just because they were thought of, so fuck...who are you fooling?
You buncha tattle-tails who wrote each other's name on the board when the teacher was out of the room. Boring nobodies. Who's gonna skip a few pages and build a teleporter? You'd fucking CRUSH the world under your greedy little thumb.
 I can think of so MANY stupid fucking evil inventions that I either read about, saw in a movie or made up. I can make them up as I go, for god's sake...why none of them in our dimension?
When you're watching a movie you REALLY love, think:
or Socrates or Hitler or the first monkey that came down outta the trees...
is this the one you'd  show them? All that shit. Would the person you're imagining even comprehend what's going on in any way? or would it be just utter nonsense to their eyes and ears?
Man, if you could time travel even a LITTLE bit, you could fuck shit up...but i guess it'll never happen in this dimension, cause we wouldn't even be here if there was gonna be a paradox.
What about just goofy robots and flying cars like on The Jetsons?
Man, we're just PAST DUE for a James-Bond-Level-Global-Terrorist situation.
It's 2005!!!!!
and all that.
Even if this boring, rated-pg reality is all I get to see in this lifetime, it doesn't mean I should be satisfied just KNOWING that somewhere, in a dimension just like this one, there's a guy who is poised on threatening the world with a submarine that opens up and swallows ships and a spaceship that steals shuttles (or whatever they're gonna use now) and is ready to sink the entire surface of the Earth with a death ray that he does not even care might kill him too and wants to single-handedly repopulate the world alongside the entire female portion of the cast of BATTLE ROYALE, who he has kidnapped and are all drugged, awaiting him in his Pleasure Palace. That some kid, who might look just like me as a kid, is finishing up some machine that can make chocolate pudding outta thin air, but has no way of shutting it down cause he never planned it that far and it destroys half the city before it destroys its power source.
It doesn't comfort me to know they're there. I want to see them. I want the future like they told us we'd get. This is a buncha sellout bullshit. I do my best work in a place I can't even get to because the human race cancelled the muthafuckin future.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Hope Is A Burlap Sack With A Brick In It

I think I'm finally getting to the bottom of this bullshit. When I was a stupid teenager, I pretty much hated myself (for the usual reasons many other teenagers hate themselves. I'm not trying to introduce some brand-new concept here) and wished I could be dead, but, since I was scared of actually dying, I figured I would just continue wishing while I waited to see how the good guys came out in the end.
HOPE got me this far. I have that and my friends and maybe a couple of real good songs to thank for making me enjoy breathing sometimes.
 At some point, the word HOPE grew to become its very own entity. A shadowy figure looming on the edge of THE LINE. The line i cross when i'm ready to define GIVING UP.
I mean, you say it all the time: "I GIVE UP!!", but whatcha gonna do? Flip your OFF switch and slump over like a powerless droid? If you don't stick a gun in your mouth right afterwards, you're lying when you announce your giving-up-status. HOPE is that little angel or devil walking along the line making sure you are subconsciously aware of the things you're telling yourself. It's ok to lie to yourself here and there. Hell, it's probably good for you, but don't start believing that shit. HOPE is that part that hears you tell yourself that you're gonna rip you a new asshole, but never flinches cause it knows you wouldn't really do that. I think maybe that was the clearest I'm capable of explaining this, so I'll waste no more of our valuable time with examples.
Of course, HOPE lets certain things through all the time. If you give up on something give-up-able, then HOPE signs whatever the-proper-forms-for-your-particular-situation must be printed on somewhere, and lets it through. 
"Peace..." and it falls away into oblivion never to bug another soul. If you chicken out of pushing that shit over the edge after HOPE has already given you the clearance and walked off about his business, it's nobody's fault but your own. "You can lead the horse to water..." and all that.

So, enough about you. This was supposed to be about ME.
So my HOPE, assuming that you now understand who that is, got really sick of me in those self-loathing teenage years and formulated the perfect revenge for being picked last and thrown on my team:
 "I'll just randomly let him push important shit over the side and make him keep dragging around all the crap he was supposed to forget about" ...of course, all I heard was some mysterious whispering.
It's years later and HOPE quit whispering a long time ago. Now it pokes its finger into my chest while it dreams up its wild conspiracies...
"what if you give up now and everything would've worked out?"
All i can think is to push HOPE, itself, over, but what does that mean? do i stop being me and stop hoping what i hope without actually offing the ego that defines me as a person, cause i can't imagine how to be someone else? 
HOPE is one evil motherfucker and, if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna take all those things that it has damned me with, for better or worse, till the grave, and shove them down its rotten little throat. I will make it apologize for forcing me to do it the way I did it, but, Goddammit, I will do it. 
If you lived in a 5' by 5' plywood box, with nothing inside but alight and a finger painting of a beautiful angel on the wall, you'd worship her by now and be incapable of understanding why anyone else wouldn't. You'd also, because of HOPE, (or mine, at least), be convinced that there was a way of being inside that painting with her as long as you believed it strongly enough. As the years went by, you'd believe it more and more strongly, regardless of failed attempts and refuted theories. 

Maybe it's just not the right time...
I'm trying too hard...
I must not believe strong enough...
What the fuck am i doing wrong?...
Maybe it'll feel sorry for me and just let me in...
It's gotta realize one day that it was meant to be...
Maybe God'll step in or some referee or something...

I've been to that place. I touched it. I held it close and it held me and everything stopped and it was good. Time does not exist there. Nobody but you and it exist. Everyone else is just an illusion dreamt up to either entertain you or suck you back into the box-world, where you only dream of it and have to go back-to-the-ole-drawing-board and argue with HOPE for awhile about if maybe this time you could just "not want it anymore"...
but, of course, HOPE hates my guts and I stumble on...perfectly aware of what a clown that makes me.
It's YOUR finger-painting you're staring at, but, despite your constant obsessing, you can't remember when you made it. It doesn't look like the goofy stick figures your artistic capabilities limit you to. This one's alot more complete and seems to have absorbed all your previous "masterpieces" and combined them into one perfect landscape.
How can you argue with that?

Friday, September 16, 2005

Spiritual Healing pt.2 (The Deep End)

* i split this bullshit into 2 parts, 1) so the 3 people bored enough to read it could take a breather from what unintentionally became the history of my lame-ass life in Eunice as a teen, and 2) because i write so slow, i ran outta time and had to go to work, so...*

Timothy Leary wrote his last official book about his terminal cancer and about the many different theories on cryogenics, downloading (and uploading) the soul onto computer, string theory implications of death and the all-in-all psychedelic experience that we all must one day face. When asked if he was interested in preserving his brain for future possibilities of resurrection he simply replied, "I've done all I wanted to do here. I wanna see what's next." (maybe those weren't the exact words, but who's writing this, asshole?)

If I would've waited to go to college when it actually woulda done me some good, I would've majored in quantum physics. I probably would've flunked out, but I can think of no subject more interesting or important to humanity in the 2000's.
Sometime in '97 or so, my girlfriend and I were watching Nova and it was an episode about the ever expanding universe. Maybe i fell asleep, but an hour after it had ended, she finally snapped me out of my daze because my eyes were open and she was getting creeped out because I wouldn't answer her or even bat an eye for that matter. I can't verify what it was, but it's the closest thing to a vision I have ever experienced. I was no longer on the couch, observing. I was there. I saw the big bang and black holes and supernovas and my new narrator (the original had apparently given up trying to get my attention too) spoke with no voice, only thoughts. I suddenly was vaguely aware of the significance of math in the universe. I became fully aware of the ongoing chain reaction of everything affecting everything else. Not just alot of things that happen at the same time, but everything. It was the first time I ever dreamed, or day-dreamed, or whatever, where I was not a present entity in the scene. I mean, first-person-view is one thing...I was not there. I saw these things in their entirety, as if I was some bodiless part of the process itself. If you've ever felt this way, you know the exhilaration involved. I came out of it feeling disoriented and a little bit afraid. I don't necessarily think in terms of visions and miracles and shit. The first thing i thought was possibly a stroke or seizure or something, but there was no shakiness, no pain...nothing.
 I've since done a little research and had several things confirmed, several things contradicted, several things altered, but the vision has grown within me. I don't see it anymore as much as feel it. I have complete and doubtless faith in the fact that there is a creator and it must be God. Not that Zeus looking guy with the fire and brimstone, sitting on a throne, passing harsh judgement on his own creation. The God I envision has no shape and is a million times more grand than all that. It is a mathematician and a philosopher...a scientist and a is omniscient, yet chaotic. It is the center of everything. The first "if" in the equation of Life, The Universe and Everything. It is the destiny of all things.
Energy cannot be destroyed. Mine can't, anyway. It disperses from the computer that was your brain and becomes part of the life-cycle as it has every time something has died in the history of anything. It carries information that you have gathered that you weren't even aware you were doing and feeds that into the DNA strand that EVERYTHING is made of. It becomes part of the program that creates life and causes that life to adapt and change according to environmental and social conditions. Every single animal on this planet is born with some advantage over its predecessors, however insignificant. It's why we're still here. In a Way, being "still here" is a good another way completely, our still being here may be numbering our days as a species. Mankind seems pretty satisfied with the current physical state we have become. Our days as "hunter, gatherers" have given way to "consumers". We shop, therefore we am. All our inventions are really just cheap improvements on old ideas that strive toward eliminating all physical labor absolutely. We knowingly allow ourselves to be conditioned by obvious brainwash techniques and pass this complacently down through the generations...then complain that they've become degenerates. We have forked the path of evolution in such a way that it may be too late to survive the declining stability of the Earth that we have taken for granted for so long.
We live by obsolete ideals. Of all the books and films on physics and their relationship to religion that i've come across, the simplest (but still pretty informative and funny) is by Tim Allen (yes, The Tool man). This is by an average guy, for the average guy. Let's stuff ole Tim in the way-back-machine and see how well he does explaining string-theory and dark matter to, say, the ancient Mayans. They'd feast on his white ass. You sometimes dumb things down for children because it's the only way to make them understand. The ancient religions were created by people who lived in constant fear of the world around them, had no idea that they were not the ONLY people on Earth and needed religion just to get them organized and progressing as a people. Would they accept your explanation of what causes a hurricane and the perfectly normal nature of it? I'm thinking "the gods are punishing us" would be way more convincing.
Join me now, in 2005, where the majority of monkeyheads still believe damn near the same stories. "God" has given us proof. DNA is the word of the creator. It's actually alot more basic than we thought it would be (not DNA itself, but the concept that it supports). I don't necessarily disbelieve the bible or its worldwide equivalents. I just know that those guys didn't have access to the information we have now. Evolution works that way. Lightning was alot scarier when you were a kid and had nothing but your own interpretation of what caused it.
It only makes sense that if energy cannot be created or destroyed, it must grow in complexity and efficiency. I have faith in that. I don't pretend to understand all the things i have faith in...I strive to, don't get me wrong, but i'm simply not smart enough. It just seems logical that if this energy continues to grow and each of us is standing on the shoulders of giants, then there must be a point. There must be a destination. There also must be a point when our understanding reaches the level of acceptance that allows us to be so bold as to entertain the notion that we are all part of an eternal process started by some great mathematical equation that is constantly working its way toward a solution. 

What's the solution? 42, Douglas Adams joked...because in all of our pondering on the answer to everything, our arrogance has blinded us to the fact that maybe the question isn't as obvious as we imagined. Maybe humanity isn't even supposed to reach the end. Maybe we are just some catalyst for a more important part of the puzzle. Maybe our destiny actually IS to destroy ourselves senselessly and thereby triggering the slight change in the solar system necessary for further development of the universe as a whole. It doesn't matter. Instinct tells us to try. Our collective programming instructs us to push forward as a species whether we like it or not...whether in the right direction or not. 
Instinct is a motherfucker. The first people ever had no contact with each other, much less knowledge of each other, yet still universally expressed their feelings in the same manner. A smile means the same thing the world over. People have fallen in love, ritualized the death of loved ones, etc. since the beginning. Some things just don't need to be taught. I envy those early folks and the empty canvas that was their world...
When did you first associate GREEN with go and RED with stop? Who taught you to read right to left or left to right or top to bottom or however it is you habitually read things? Who invented the art of standing in line and how did they convince others it was a good idea? I know I think too far into things, but, dammit, maybe somebody needs to. How much of your reality did you create and how much of it did you accept as "how things are done?" Were you born a creator or just another helpless child in the flume?

One of the things that drives me craziest in this life is having to hear my fellow monkeys comment on how everything's been done and it's all mapped out. FUCK YOU. Do you accept the current state of man, circa 2005, as mankind's destiny? Have you not enough imagination to see past the money-circle you've been born into? This is not the end of the maze. Just take a bite of that's poisoned.
We have only just begun to evolve to our next state of being. Space is a gigantic place that grows larger every second. All current theories of crossing that vastness fall short of our physically making it the distance that our technology can. Is it that nonsensical an idea to suggest that maybe part of our destiny lies in overcoming our physical form? I'm not talking about being frozen, Walt Disney style, and thawed out later when the diseases eating at our insides have been conquered...I mean, as a species, becoming non-physical it blasphemy to want to perfect ourselves to the point of discarding these shells we have occupied for so long? I hate that word. It is a non-existant limitation on the ideas that progress has blessed us with. Stem-cell research, cloning...all reguarded with such fear and disgust. What if it falls into the wrong hands? ...except that those wrong hands would have no motivation for their deeds if we were not so close minded and dogmatic in tradition in the first place. If there were no money system to reward us for work that we shoulda been willing to do for the betterment of mankind, then who would stand to gain anything by corrupting what are otherwise blessings? Our minds are so locked into the system that we were born into that it stifles all the possible applications of such technology and scares us into the silly James Bond type plots that become our reasons for not supporting new concepts and even outlawing them.
How many ways can you imagine the Earth, and humanity, meeting its demise? Can you also imagine how we might overcome these possibilities? THE LORD HELPS THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES.

I have faith. When i meet whatever unsavory end this world has in store for me and my energy finally disperses, erasing the ego that makes me wz3d, I take with me the ideas that have so intrigued me over the past 9 years or so. I have some conceptualization of what might be going on in that seemingly eternal instant that the waves of particles that make up my soul are hyper-accelerated and spread out across the DNA chain for further reference. I don't understand how, but i do know that all things are connected by those waves and, with everything that still exists of "ME", I hope to cheat a little by jumping across some of those connecting points and speed some of "me" along toward that final goal of all things. It's been fun hanging out with all you guys, but i wanna see God, Goddammit. What if everything I've learned and everything I believe is passed on to the next generation, but my next conscious incarnation is a moron? I can't afford to waste my evolution on people who won't appreciate it, so I'm outta here?
What do I expect to find?
 If the God I was taught to believe in isn't the God that I currently envision, is there still gonna be a heaven?
I think so. "Heaven", by my definition, would mean perfection. Not streets of gold (what the hell use would gold have?), not angels with wings (if i'm not a physical entity, why would I need wings to overcome gravity?)...just perfection. I think that you WILL get to meet Grandma and your old pets again, just not in the way you've seen in movies and shit. 
If God is the mathematician at the center of the equation, then heaven would be to exist within the solution of all that math and, by comparison, HELL would be the complete absence of God. Think about how much time we have left on this planet...all that energy recycling over and over on the same ball of sustenance until, finally, that ball can no longer sustain lifeforms or even itself.
That's the end, brothers and sisters of the Poxyclypse. Complete fucking absence of God. You were given your ticket at birth, but fear and conditioning caused you to forget where you put it and the boat sailed away. Forever.
Not me, fools. What's your favorite thing about fucking? There's all kinds of physical things that you can list. I'm a big fan of them all, I promise, but, in my mind, the number one attraction to the act of "making love" is that feeling of ONENESS with another entity. It is the closest we can be to a simultaneous physical and spiritual connection with another person. You may not always feel that your motivations toward sex are that deep, but, like I said earlier...instinct is a motherfucker.
Now imagine being a part of EVERYTHING at the same time. It's already happening, but in a dimension that we have yet to achieve passage to. If God is the center, and Heaven is being part of that center and the ultimate destiny of all things is to return to that center, then who wouldn't want to be there? A never-ending orgy of everything that is...I can think of some pretty cool shit, but nothing comparable to that.
Whew...that took alot longer than I hoped. Thanx for tolerating me for that long, if you really did and aren't just skipping to the end to leave some stupid comment about how you really read all that.
 I hope you find something to believe that makes you feel good about believing in something.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Spiritual Healing pt.1 (Straight To Hell)

* this is a second attempt at a blog I wrote yesterday that got eaten by Myspace...I find it very frustrating that i'm writing this for a second time, cause there's no way I'm about to duplicate what I had written and, frankly, I was pretty impressed that it came out making sense the first time...*

If I have anything to do with it, I won't be a human being next time. I mean, since I am a human now, I'm sure I'll always have some elements of humanity in the history of my participation in the DNA chain, but, dammit, I can try. I don't hate the human race. I know I come across that way alot, but I really just think its funny to be misanthropic and, on a much cheaper note, it's a style that comes naturally for me(hence, DoomsdayDevice: as in writing in my point of view...don't tell anyone. it'll be our secret).

I was raised Southern Baptist and really can think of no point in my childhood that would've been better off without the presence of First Baptist Church of Eunice. I made alot of friends. I took alot of trips...a big chunk of my childhood memories take place in or among church. I'm sure it must have had a significant impact on the development of my spiritual being. I still screwed up here and there. I was arrested for grand larceny when I was 12. I got suspended from school here and there, but, somehow, most people still considered me a pretty good kid. 
Somewhere around 17 or 18 is when my questions started to bother the pastor and my youth group leader. All through the years, I was the goofy nerd who asked the questions like: "Why are there dinosaur skeletons then?" and "How did Cain meet his wife after being kicked out of Eden for killing Able if they were the first 4 (Adam & Eve's sons) people ever?" ...crap like that. These were usually conveniently summed up by: "If there were proof of God, then you wouldn't have to have faith and EVERYBODY would be saved." That shut me up usually, but I really thought it would be cooler if EVERYBODY was saved.

Throughout my teenage years, the discovery and immediate obssession of heavy metal, punk rock, and my ever-growing fixation on horror & sci/fi wasn't all that compatible with youth group activities, I discovered after losing tapes and not being able to provide movies for youth movie nights anymore. I was scared of the devil because of what I had been taught, but in a much more horrific way, by movies like Evilspeak & The Omen and by Slayer, Death & a few other bands' depictions of what kinda bullshit goes on in hell.
FUCK THAT SHIT!! The old-school "Satan Worshippers" (not the hippie pagan ones. I think they shoulda named it something else cause it's dissapointing to worship the devil if there's no devil) always intrigued me because I can't imagine who would wanna burn in hell on purpose, you know? You gotta skip to the end of the book sometimes to see how your team turns out. Plus, it was really bouffant. It was a rebellion against Christianity for all these kids, yet had twice as many rules, was extremely organized (cause you gotta do those scary chants over EVERYTHING you do), and you had to dress really gay and look like a dead person. I'm all about being ugly on purpose just to bum people out or whatever, but why would I want to look like a jerkoff and be ridiculed...ON PURPOSE?

what was i talking about? 
oh yeah...

So, long story twice as long, the gathering of all these elements caused something of a spiritual perfect storm...especially when I was still attending church and going to Sunday school and I could feel them giving up on me. I just felt like I wasn't as invited as I used to be. They weren't quite as enthusiastic to discuss my latest paradoxes anymore. There were questions about my feelings on Satan and silly stuff like that. I didn't mind at first. I mean, it's Eunice, Louisiana. I didn't have to go that far outta my way to recieve that kinda attention. 
Until my senior year in high school, I had never been popular in that high school sense of the word, but I had a few girlfriends and some buddies that I did pretty normal teenager shit with. I didn't hide out in the parking lot with Eunice's 2 stoners (I didn't even try weed till I was 19), and I still had yet to cut school to act the fool. The first half of the year was ok. I made out alot with this really sexy girl and that was neat. Me and a couple guys I was in band with got pretty drunk before a game and really sucked at half time that night (my first punk rock performance). Me and some friends spent alot of time making movies about rabid pirhana and psycho circus clowns. Even my mom thought they were hilarious (mom kicks ass).

Then, one day i walked into school and this fucking dude i went to church with (Chad something...a preacher's kid) had told everybody that i was a DEVIL WORSHIPPER. His research on this subject stemmed from the argument we'd had the day before in which I praised The Doors as being a "cool ass" movie and he refuted by declaring Jim Morrison a Satan Worshipper (you have to sing those 2 words in a high-pitched King Diamond voice). It spread through Eunice in a Goddamn day. My best friend's dad didn't want me to hang out anymore and he even got in trouble a few times after that because someone would tell that we hung out. Girls sure as fuck didn't want to come around me...not out of fear, I think, but mostly cause it was such an unfashionable lifestyle I supposedly led. I skipped prom, DID go on the senior trip, which was fun mostly, hugged everybody that would touch me and ducked outta town. I still hung out with my couple close friends, but for the most part, I tried to stay off the map in that town. I still considered myself Christian at that time, but mostly out of habit, I think. I wasn't in church at all, and I chose not to dwell on questions of spirituality, religion, eternity and shit like that for the next 6 or 7 years. Rock-n-roll is far too fun to get mixed up with all that crap anyway, and I knew there was no chance of NOT ROCKING.
 At some point, I was hanging off of a cliff overlooking the fiery abyss, clutching the hand of the lord for all its worth. The fires yanked at my ankles like crabs dragging each other back down into the net as I stared desperately into the eyes of God, hoping for salvation...and finding only truth. I slowly reached up with my other dangling hand, extended my middle finger, and let go. He caught me, though, by the wrist and smiled as if to say: "I'M the one who decides when to give up, muthafucka", and let me fall...

Saturday, September 3, 2005

Right Next To Where You Are Standing

*There's a lot of aid surging toward those who've been affected. Millions of gallons of water. Millions of tons of food. We're making progress about pulling people out of the Superdome," the president said.*

I just read this. It's 3:45 in the morning, Saturday, the 3rd.
Why am I just a little bit scared of you people? Why does chris go on about Godzilla and zombies and black holes and meteors and all that other stupid shit? The fucking world hates itself and whips its own ass for it. At what point did the Earth start a class war?
Have you started to generalize yet? Fucking New Orleans trash, fucking crimerate, fucking guns, fucking send 'em somewhere else, why here? Everybody use the buddy system, New Orleans is in the house...and they're crazy, and they can't drive, and they'll shoot you just as soon as tell you hi.
I've been warned by you bastards, I've listened to you slimy little phantoms trying to say it in as couth a manner as possible, I paid attention to the rumors that i'm not supposed to pass, but somehow get to hear.
Boring fucking Jerry Springer generation of degenerate conservative assholes. If you one day woke to find that there was practically no one plotting against your freedom or waiting around the corner to mug you one way or the other, you'd lose all will to live. 
A WHOLE-MUTHAFUCKIN-LOT-OF-PEOPLE just got their entire reality flipped on its ass and then promptly shoved up theirs....RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE YOU ARE STANDING.

Now the people organizing the biggest benefits seem to be the people hoping the money raised will "send 'em somewhere else". It's like when a relative is dying in the hospital and the entire family is staying in shifts and somehow it turns into a guilt-war over who spent the most time at their post. From Tallahassee to Houston to Atlanta to All-Over-The-Fuckin-Place, the past 5 days or so have been trying... from the people still trapped in the thick of this to the ones very least affected, it's a strange, scary, depressing time. My feelings on the events of the past week contradict themselves and also reconfirm suspicions that have been with me all along. You guys just may be a little a whole.
No. Nothing's ever gonna be the same matter how small the matter how's gonna be there. Not everybody looks like you and not everybody thinks like you and not everybody likes what you like and yes, every last one of them is scared shitless of you as well...for the same reason.
You know like when you're at a concert or some big, giant fucking event that you've been rambling on obnoxiously to your co-workers about, even AFTER they told you they could give a shit and please stop talking about it??? Like RADIOHEAD or something (who isn't necessarily my favorite band, but maybe you're the artsy type) is playing in a couple minutes and you're running around the arena checking out chicks/dudes/shirts/stickers/drugs/beer/whatever...big gay grins and all that...and you're bumping into people and everybody's spilling on each other the whole time and putting out cigarettes on each other by accident and stepping on feet and knocking people down...and everybody's still turn to that dude who's girlfriend you accidentally punched in the mouth out of sheer excitement from that little singer dude saying "fuck" where he used to say something else, and you smile apolagetically and you say, "My bad, dog." and you MEAN IT.
You know that shit like that happens, it WAS your fault and he smiles back and says, "It's cool, man" and laughs cause she's like singing all loud and crying with a big hole where her tooth used to be. Nobody cares. You rub up against each other getting where you gotta go, but everybody seems to understand that nobody's doing it to be an asshole...

Maybe there ain't no ride at the end of this line and maybe this crowd ain't here for no rock-n-roll show, but, Goddammit, who the fuck are you to be the SLIGHTEST bit impatient with this mess if you ain't in a boat right now, fishin people off of roofs?

It's that easy, man. Just let people do what they gotta do to get their feet goin one in front of the other again. Not gonna join Red Cross and go dangle from a helicopter, dodging machine gun fire and whatever other horrible evils your parents warned you about? 
THAT'S OK. I ain't either. "I gotta work tomorrow" and several other valid excuses.
 A certain amount of guilt does wash over me when I see pictures of the people trapped on top of overpasses and buildings and houses. It fucking sucks. I wish this would never have happened, while at the same time, I'm sure it will again...somewhere else, maybe worse...hell, it just did.
I mean, while you're at it, Pompeii got covered by a motherfucking volcano. As long as we inhabit this planet, we are its bowling alley. That's the tradeoff. I hate being reminded that there are powers that I have no control over that are capable of altering my reality. It's a human condition. We all deal with this in our own individual way. When one person loses control of the responsibility of tolerating this, they become sociopathic....when an entire region starts suffering outbreaks of this type of fear, anger, anxiety, prejudice toward ITSELF, it becomes...
What? I don't cancer? a class war?
You guys GOTTA fuck off and start evolving quick, or we're in so much Goddamn trouble...I ain't even bullshittin. 
Bad fucking know who you are.

peace (if it doesn't inconvenience you, of course),

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

My Earliest Memory

After much soul-searching and a little sodium-pentathol, I've come to realize that my earliest memory is:
of me running in my front yard, looking down at my feet to try to detect the elevated speed that I MUST be achieving through my cool first-pair-of-tennis-shoes. I have no idea what age I was, but that pretty much jumps up in front of everything else when I try digging deep. What a fucking rip-off. The only reason I was even so captivated by the idea of cool shoes that made me run faster and jump higher was cause I had monkey feet (flat) and had to wear these Goddamn 200-pound hiking boots that were gonna somehow "correct" my arches...shit, I probably COULD run faster and jump higher just from having those weights off like in the Shaolin training scenes on the old kung-fu movies. I musta looked like the fat Forrest Gump running, head down across the yard, little to no emotion showing, while I studied my new dexterity.
that's all...
I was a funny looking kid...
...and they quit making cool shoes a long time ago.


Thursday, August 4, 2005

In Which wz3d Finally Makes His Point... And How!

There's a point to this, but i'm not sure at what point it'll present itself, so let's have this adventure
I just got finished watching GODZILLA: FINAL WARS on the computer. I've never had the urge to watch a 2 hour movie on this computer, but there i was, sitting on the floor, leaned up between the back of the couch and the side of the trashcan, watching the FUCK out of a totally Japanese movie (the illegal download didn't even have subtitles) with a big grin, like i know what's going on.
 It's not the big, more serious, kinda grandiose epics that the rest of the millenium G's have been, but you can tell Ryuhei Kitamura's having the time of his life blowing shit up and creating the most kinetic, action-packed movie since...
VERSUS...another movie HE made (none of this has much to do with the point i'm hoping to eventually make here. i just get REALLY inspired and pompous when talking about G or just good movies in general. stay with me here).
I pretty much fit the bones of the story together and one of the main characters is an older, uber-hardcore American badass (English speaking Glenn Frey) kinda John Wayne dude with some cool one-liners and shit, so he clears up some of the shadowy corners in the plot for me when he's on the screen (he's like my Willy Wonka tourguide guy). The action is frantic and imaginative (the usual for Kitamura) and MOST of the music (i really hated the weak-ass Sum 41 screaming song right in the middle...thankfully, it lasted only a couple seconds...also, i'm a big fan of the recent G scores cause they're all big, gigantic orchestral bombardments that sound like they're proclaiming the return of the lord or something.) is really cool and pulsing, just different for the current fact the whole style seems to rebelliously throw itself back to the 60's/70's Godzilla films, which were really inventive plotwise, but just so damned aimed at kiddies.
There are definitely a few cutesy moments, but everything else is so insanely non-stop that they're real easy to swallow (again...i'm going on about the movie and that's not what i wanted to talk about.).
Awesome movie...whatever...
I just watched an illegally downloaded movie that is CURRENTLY playing in theaters. I'm now the guy that ad at the beginning of Steven Spielberg's new movie warned you not to be.
I'M A PIRATE!!!!!!!
Did you even KNOW that GODZILLA:FINAL WARS was playing in America right now? ...that it had already played in Japan?
This is a big, loud, obnoxious, clever special-effects-movie. At least every 10 minutes, something is happening on the screen that you've never seen before.
That fucking wack-ass Roland Emmerich JURRASIC PARK rip-off iguana-thing even shows up in Australia and the real G fucks him up in less than 20 seconds.
I fucking robbed it right off the net. $8 that won't be in the seat tonight. FUCK YOU, TOHO STUDIOS. I'm part of an epidemic.
...funny thing is...
I been waiting on this shit since i first read about it. I been fucking foaming at the mouth over it. I'm gonna buy the DVD when it is released, but the thing is...
I love movies, asshole. Alot. This is the kinda movie i wanna watch at IMAX...not on these crappy little speakers. Not leaning on a trashcan. Not on the floor, fuck you very much...

(can i pull it together? can i wrap this bullshit up in a way that makes sense NOW?...or do i keep hunting&pecking like Stephen Hawking on speed for 2 more hours and end up with nothing but a vivid explanation of why my PARTICULAR trashcan probably sucks to lean on more than yours?)

I hate that America (in general) doesn't reguard film as art, but more of a commercial procession. Studios purposely play matchmaker to famous actors just to give EXTRA & ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT some pre-buzz fluff before it's announced that they've broken up but have completed a romantic comedy together
(hold on, goin way over there...).

I love digging for the things that i love but i hate that i'm FORCED to dig for the things i love.
How many people in this country are still actually functioning as completely independant human beings? I feel more and more claustrophobic in the midst of this single-wavelength one day, i'm gonna run into the last person that i KNOW is really human and he/she is just gonna stare blankly, point at me and let out that horrible scream like on INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS.
(reeeel it in...rrreeeeeeeeel it innnnn...)

I just miss when everybody liked different things and it was ok...
and when all the theaters weren't owned by the same people who made the movies...
and all the people who made the movies weren't the same people who owned the radio stations, T.V stations, record companies...etc.
John Carpenter is the new Nostrodamas because of the movie, THEY LIVE. 
that's my damn point...
piss off.

Saturday, June 11, 2005


they come to praise the man

so capable of great things,

that some have even whispered

into confident ears,
the words:
"Christ reborn."

and they hope that this great one

carries the answer,
to the atrocities that they themselves commit

every day of their lives.

"Oh, that this new Jesus

might heal all wounds

and deliver us to paradise,

so that we may sin no more."

and if it is not true,

they will drink his blood

and pray to God that

he might send his son soon...
before they destroy themselves

in their never-ending search

for comfort and a sense of morality.

Whoops! Got Some On You...

i sneezed on you on purpose,
and now i'm watching to see if you get sick.
it's such a tiny
but powerful gesture.
you never even suspected it.
God bless you.

Monday, March 7, 2005

Where Does It Go When You Flush The Toilet?

Check out some shit i'm makin up,
about the water on the outside of the cup,
about the distance from the down to the up,
about the stuff you see between the stuff you see,
it looks like its all under a microscope to me.
hi. kiss my ass. i'm wyblezilla3d.
i'm that psychological baggage that boils like cabbage
refrigerator's hotter than the games i just sold Babbage's
my lab ages,
but i get out in the end, i'm a parasitic-prestrain of the strains of DNA i bend, my friend,
"i tried to keep it abstract" but my visuals landed in your face (all the way from outerspace), i rock God, Cosmo D, Superman AND the rest of the human race,
i'm slowly being replaced by a cellular structure that's slowly being replaced,
so why try RE-tying the unfuckwittable shoes that i lace? lose face? to disgrace? to eat paste? to lay waste? to baste?
shit, i got bigger and better to waste my time on in the first place.
so go knock those down first, with your combo-bulldozer/hearse,
cause you were already the judge AND the jury AND the filth AND the fury
AND the blood AND the glory AND the TRUE FUCKIN STORY.
goddamn, everybody meet alpha-half-uhgg-fuckin apeman,
who prays to the peice of ground that he holds in his hand,
cause he understands, things must expand, to complete the strand,
and he's now the god of this miniature land.
and now everything's gonna go just as he planned,
or else... he's gonna make sure that from there on,
everything lines up just according to schedule, and he's holding a big bang in his hand.
he is creator and destroyer. he is the result of a fork in the DNA railroad,
that forked from a fork that forked from a fork that was lost in the dark,
there can be only one, stupid.
i can take two bulldogs fucking and loop it
and play it back for you (exact for you) i can make the devil paint it black for you,
are you... starting to catch a glimpse
of why Doomsday Device talks more shit than pimps,
given that the Shakespeare-typewriters are,
as we speak, being wrestled from the despairing clutches of the chimps?
cause i'm re-writin histoy and i'm makin it cooler,
the branches of my heritage don't read with no ruler,
i'm the spyware from somebody else's bad idea that embedded in your eye-ware,
tells you lies there, makes you think you can fly there,
i would never take advice from me, that's too easy,
i'm w-3-zee what if your guidance councilor sees me?
are all these muthafuckin prayors to me?
let's see:
why we so obssessed with all this "shirts vs. skins"?
why we wanna murda till we all get dead or win?
why we lose the battle of the sword and the pen?
why my destiny's right there if i just fixed it again?"
and i answer back... cause gods ALWAYS do that, answer back,
but they're too tiny and stupid to comprehend my shape,
the galaxy-sized-banana-peel that keeps trippin up the Planet Of The Apes,
and i smile at 'em. they're my sea monkeys,
i stuff 'em down in my pocket and go on about my daily rotations.
and years from now (eons for the tiny lifeforms that destroyed themselves
in an effort to prove whether or not i existed and if so, in what form?)
some alien species will find 'em all dried out.
i kept squeezing all their air out.
sealed them in a ziploc bag, with a label that said "waste"...
because how can i be god if i can't define space?