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When you're this sexy you don't have to be smart |
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Little by little it withers away, a dance, a dash, but no time to play... |
| Universal Health Care? I'd rather have weather control machines. Is too much to ask for a climate that always stays at 22oC? I could live with the occassional scheduled frost just to prevent the spread of disease and combat forest fires, even allow certain areas wintery seasons to appease those insane enough to enjoy snow, but I want full on summer 365. Rain at nights between 2-4am and even the occasional leaf changing just for photography purposes. Think of the drought and famine problems we could take care of. If we're already dominating the environment why can't we go all out? As you can guess it was a cool day here and the chill of the white monster is in the air. I dread the next 6 months, if there is a hell, it is definately frozen over. |
| I wrote a song; Greener Still - Written by Ean Stott You say you never made a promise you could keep, All because you'd leave me when I sleep. The words you spoke were perfume to my ear, Even though your heart was far from here. I tell myself that you would let me know, If you had a new place you should go. There you were just laughing behind my back, Worried 'bout all the things you lack. But Angel I'm about fill you in, You've forgotten just how sweet it's been. All those times we held each other tight, Made mistakes but always set them right. The memories of us laughing in the dark, The perfect acts of passion that we sparked. Everything just turned and went away, The moment that your heart began to stray. -Chorus- 'Cause Love I'm telling you I'm worth much more than this; And I don't need the poison of your kiss. I can make it better on my own; You don't need to call me on the phone. And If you think the grass is greener still; Then just go out and baby get your fill. And Love I'm telling you I'm worth much more than this; And I don't need the poison of your kiss. I can make it better on my own; You don't need to call me on the phone. And If you think the grass is greener still; Then just go out and baby get your fill. -Resume- I wonder if it was bad right from the start, Since you'd be calling out as soon as I'd depart. Every little concern for you I'd shown, Empty wishes that I only could have known. Now all luster has left our place, 'Cause in your dreams you saw another's face. So Honey just go out and be all you should be, And don't you spend a second worried 'bout me. -Repeat Chorus- |
| Halloween is fast approaching and given that I just finished 'the Host' (very enjoyable) and that this is my absolute favourite time of year I want to speak on a subject very near and dear to my heart- H.P. Lovecraft. Now many of you may not be familiar with the Cthulhu Mythos so I thought I'd stake a little claim on helping you find the ominous spirit of All Hallows Eve by sharing some of Mr. Lovecraft's views on reality and we as people. Howard Phillips Lovecraft (August 20, 1890 – March 15, 1937) was an American author of horror, fantasy, and science fiction, known then simply as weird fiction. (Thank you Wikipedia) Lovecraft was an atheist and being unburdened by the fear of any sort of karmic smackdown for his actions in life decided to find something that was just as terrifying as revelations for those that did not shiver at the mere mention of the divine. He began to write about the horrors that, in his opinion at least, invested the dark corners of reality both beyond and within. The Great Old Ones those things that lurked beyond our perception, some terribly sentient, some merely terrible were beyond us in every conceivable way. Their evolutionary journey surpassing our meager advances by millions upon millions of years to the point where to our senses their technology more closely resembled magic, their societies diseased anarch-states of horror and their very existence a poison to our sanities and dire threat to our continued survival. So powerful and ancient were the bestial old ones that we barley even drew their notice, like a jogger trampling ants beneath his shoes, we may not have been their focus but we invariably suffered in their wake. The most well known of them was Cthulhu, a colossal, foully tentacled beast that had long ago been trapped in some ancient and mysterious manner right here on our own planet. Slumbering in a death-like state beneath the waters of an ocean, locked within his drowned temple-city of R’lyeh Cthulhu’s dreams invaded the minds of those mortals who dwelt along the seashore. Planting suggestions and recruiting followers to his cult as he sought a way to escape his age-old prison to feed freely upon the world. Not the worst of the great old ones, or even the most powerful Cthulhu was still prophesized in Lovecraft’s works to one day bring about the end of mankind and scour us clean from the plate of the universe. Lovecraft also wrote of how the creations of these creatures like Cthulhu and the knowledge we sometimes stumbled upon when we peered too far beyond our ‘safe’ environs leads to only two surefire outcomes- insanity and death. Like a mental cancer rare tomes such as the Necronomicon and plays like the King in Yellow contain hints at the true nature of reality and our place (or lack there of) in the universe. These archaic realizations in turn erode our grasp on sanity, making us susceptible to the ruinous influences of the old ones. In Lovecraft’s works knowledge is fatal and sometimes even worse than that. Staunchly suggesting that the bloody quest for power and understanding never lays the trail to utopia, but only into chaos and lunacy. His races of the void were all bent on power and self gratification, as were their human followers. Evil because in attaining their lauded immortality and lusted for glory they had sacrificed they’re beauty, their reason and whatever scraps of humanity they may once of held. Despite all the mayhem, madness and morbidity Lovecraft had an underlying message for his readers. His work was just as much about his worries over our insatiable curiousities and impulsive natures as they ever were about slumbering nightmares. During the 1910s and 20s when Lovecraft lived his few short adult years he saw startling advancements in our technology, leaps and bounds that swept aside the horse and buggy, brought us telephones and electricity and also the awfulness of the WWI with its chemical and automated warfare that ended a generation of young men just like him. It’s clear he feared our progress but only as it applied to the horrible uses we always seemed to put our invention into. His written creations, as sinisterly inhuman and unbelievable as they were may simply have been reflections of our own darkness and his sorrow over the path we’ve taken time and again. Through the employ of the great old ones he simply points a finger toward where reckless science and selfish pride could one day take us if we never learn to control ourselves. Not bad advice from a man who died scant years before the rise of Nazi Europe and the discovery of the atomic bomb. |
| I'm kind of tired and to scatter-brained right now. My boss offered me another shift on Fridays and I had to say no. I'm stretched too thin as it is and need to focus on my family and social life. Went to the fair on the weekend. I love the beginning of the autumn, and most fall fairs are great provided you avoid the carnival games like the plague. I tell you if their was a communist bomb dropped on the world the only capitalists that would survive would be carnies. The one guy I had the displeasure of meeting on Saturday could have talked his way out of a shark's mouth... Ashley and I enjoyed pretty much everything else especially the animals and the environmental exhibits. I had no idea their was a prairie savannah in southern Ontario so we made plans to go see it before it gets too cold or early next summer. Hope you all are well. |
| http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUY8CQ08PRM The song that makes me think of my Ashley. I love her, no more to say  |
| Nothing to report. All remains quiet. We've bivouaced down near a mountain, no enemies sighted. Sentries at their post, troops bunked down for the night. God save the queen, God bless our homes, God watch over us. Nothing to report. All remains quiet. Three more soldiers came home over the weekend. Their beds were made of pine and their blankets were Canadian flags. They died supporting a notion that the whole world could one day be as peaceful and beautiful as their homeland. They stood up strong against those who would not share that dream. They bled for those innocents without the strength to defend themselves. They stood up to the darkness of the world and paid the ultimate price for freedom. They died with their boots on, holding back the tides of chaos and the flag flies at half-mast as we acknowledge their sacifice. The people stood on over-passes by the highway, holding signs of thanks and waving red and white as amubulances, fire-trucks and police cruisers' lights flashed to illuminate the display at the encroaching twilight. Too many boys and girls are coming home carried by their loved ones and yet we still have so very, very far to go. We feel this pain, it's right here, in our hearts. It's agony of suffering that allows us the need to rejoice. These are our finest, these are the best of us and when the people call them heroes it's not hard to see the reasons why. |
| My contact with friends seems to have highs and lows. Right now my online communication is down but I'm getting into touch with with local friends I haven't seen or spoken to in awhile. Funny how that happens. I'm not sure if there's a flux in connectivity with people, like a social barimeter that weighs in on who wants to talk at given times, if its yearly or monthly or if the phases of the moon have something to do with it or what have you. It's just oddly routine for me now and I've come to expect it. |
| So I've been watching a lot of American Dad, not the funniest show ever but there is something about it. I relate with Stan Smith on some unconscious level, which is weird cause I don't think I'm anything like him. I also identify with Klaus the fish. Does anyone else hope he gets out of that bowl and has a normal life again? Sure I know he was a Stasi and an olympian (both terrible, terrible things) but he's the only character I can really sympathize for. :P |
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Glad things are going well!
. . . i feel i've said too much. 