...is thirsty because there is no TANG. It has gone the way of the dinosaur and James Brown (kicked off without saying goodbye). They thought I would not notice that "TANG Orange" is now being masquaraded as TANG, but they underestimated (again) the amount of time I have to obsess over crystallized drinks.
Christmas happened, predictably, on the 25th and I was reminded of the life I have made for myself. I suppose the upside to this is the fact I can be extremely excited about using my new ad/da digital converter (though I'm not sure whether anyone else knows what that is). My favourite gift was that which I bought my uncle, a heavy book called "1001 Albums to listen to before you die". Maybe morbid, but truthful-when I die, I want to have listened to the right stuff (so I don't wind up in a fiery pit with ABBA and Styx playing).
Which reminds me: we may be pirating like there's no tomorrow, but that's just because people need music more than they ever before; everyone will have their own personal soundtrack, reflecting what they do and feel at all times... I walk home listening to music, and it's quite possible that one of the cars could hop the sidewalk and end my existence: with this in mind, I limit my walking music to those songs which I would be proud to die to. How much would it suck to collide with a speeding automobile while listening to "Why can't we be friends", or be listening to that in the car while I come through the windshield? (I've by now forgotten what point I was trying to make).
I just bought an album by Final Fantasy, whom I've been informed is the guy who arranges the strings for the Hidden Cameras and the Arcade Fire, and hated it, for about five minutes. Then the third track came on, and I could appreciate that there were no guitars (and that was okay), that harpsichord rocks with furious intensity, and that the lyrics were awesome.
2006/12/28
2006/12/22
Legs and Free Carols
I can identify with that left leg, and I don't even wonder why he's in a brace. I'm in a good mood though, because I opened my door and got some free music. That's right, carolers! As soon as I saw them, I got annoyed and guilty. I was sure I was going to be hit up for some holiday cash, or at the very least have my beliefs encroached upon. Instead I got a candy cane and have been smiling ever since... As much as I like not going to school for a while, the holiday charity thing has really been bugging me. I mean, when on rare occasions I actually answer the phone, (and it's not some idiot phoning for MDG-P.S. PLEASE dial 1-800 first) it's someone appealing to my generostiy in this time of giving. It would be easier if it was intentional guilt, but everyone's always really nice about it and so gracious if you decide not to donate that I start to hate them, because there's no way I can. Flip out at me, because I deserve it! I'm a stingy, greedy kid stuck on materialism who can't find it in his heart to give someone with less than I have a tiny little bit of my wealth. That way I can at least hate you and forget my guilt. I got to play with a two year old that I'm somehow related to today, and so I wrote this little quintrain:
I wonder why the infinity
of repetition is so hilarious
a frog crushes a lightbulb
again and again
and it's funnier every time.
2006/12/21
Hey immigrants, the country's full!
My dad was recently summoned to civil court to perform that irksome task of ladling rich, creamy justice into the hearty soup bowl of humanity. In short, jury duty. Having nothing better to do, I read the instructions carefully (like it says) and found this little piece of irony...
"If your ability to speak English is severely limited, you MUST apply in writing for an exemption from serving."
I would imagine if the office were high up in a building they would insist that fat people take the stairs. Deaf people will be given the instructions on audiotapes. Pirates will be given the instructions printed on crackers.
Actually, it reminds me that the U.S. is building a big wall between them and Mexico. If president Ford opened up the doors to make fun of the leader of the free world (by falling down all the time), Nixon stole the locks, Regan propped them open with guns he didn't know about, then Junior Bush was standing there when they finally fell off the hinges. It's too ridiculous to even make fun of anymore... I can't even go into how they're using illegal immigrants to build the wall (though I'd really like to, cause it's funny). Truth is, I'm done talking about things happening in the world around me (for tonight); I finally understand why Burno didn't own a TV (still don't understand the pink pants though).
I was downtown a while ago and hadn't eaten all day (which is when words come into my head) so here's something. It makes sense to me with a little jazz piano in the background.
I don't know what goes on
downtown where my legs hurt
from standing around and
I've got a feeling that I'm
missing the romance
that's supposed to make it
all worthwhile
you're a dark stain
on the pavement
And I've got a feeling you're
odd enough to appreciate it
No-my senses were wrong
well that's possible, I'm none
too sure
not misunderstood
just not understood
I used to pretend not to
feel at all
but got bored quickly
and started depressing myself
not sad and no reason to(o)
in fact I have no right
I think I
cannot be wrong
because I believe in everything
nothing is sacred
In my box, the world
is nonexistant
until I open the flaps
and the cloud-filtered
sun makes it impossible
You mirror my self-concept
with a flawless smile
walking out the door
into the waiting street
I look for a chair
and feel melodramatic
"If your ability to speak English is severely limited, you MUST apply in writing for an exemption from serving."
I would imagine if the office were high up in a building they would insist that fat people take the stairs. Deaf people will be given the instructions on audiotapes. Pirates will be given the instructions printed on crackers.
Actually, it reminds me that the U.S. is building a big wall between them and Mexico. If president Ford opened up the doors to make fun of the leader of the free world (by falling down all the time), Nixon stole the locks, Regan propped them open with guns he didn't know about, then Junior Bush was standing there when they finally fell off the hinges. It's too ridiculous to even make fun of anymore... I can't even go into how they're using illegal immigrants to build the wall (though I'd really like to, cause it's funny). Truth is, I'm done talking about things happening in the world around me (for tonight); I finally understand why Burno didn't own a TV (still don't understand the pink pants though).
I was downtown a while ago and hadn't eaten all day (which is when words come into my head) so here's something. It makes sense to me with a little jazz piano in the background.
I don't know what goes on
downtown where my legs hurt
from standing around and
I've got a feeling that I'm
missing the romance
that's supposed to make it
all worthwhile
you're a dark stain
on the pavement
And I've got a feeling you're
odd enough to appreciate it
No-my senses were wrong
well that's possible, I'm none
too sure
not misunderstood
just not understood
I used to pretend not to
feel at all
but got bored quickly
and started depressing myself
not sad and no reason to(o)
in fact I have no right
I think I
cannot be wrong
because I believe in everything
nothing is sacred
In my box, the world
is nonexistant
until I open the flaps
and the cloud-filtered
sun makes it impossible
You mirror my self-concept
with a flawless smile
walking out the door
into the waiting street
I look for a chair
and feel melodramatic
What I intend to accomplish
This is not one of my most pressing fears-if I had a job, would I have time to kill writing purely for my own amusement? Probably. I have a physical need to "waste" the time I have; if something's gotta be done, then it's not to be enjoyed (but I will not paint your fence). The gum I swallowed is chilling the inside of my stomach so I'll finish this up... Hopefully this blog thing will hold my interest for a while, enough time for me to subject myself to my inconsequential opinions, thoughts, observations, and (questionable) poetry (Yes, myself, because I'll probably wind up trying to read this objectively...stay tuned for the "8 reasons why Greg McLeod is a conceited bastard" article). Oh man, that's a very weird feeling. Never swallow that really cold gum before chewing it a bunch. D'you think if I swallowed two wintergreen lifesavers and then do a bunch of cartwheels, I could warm myself back up? Or is that just for chewing them?
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