Deep within the lyrics of Computer Blue, the long and unreleased version is one of my favorite works of poetry.
Thanks Prince.
He didn't like living alone
The house where he lived had many hallways
It was a long walk to his bedroom
Because to him each hallway represented an emotion
Every one vastly different from the next
One day while she was with him
He decided 2 name each one
She walked by his side, one hand on his thigh
No, wait, she was sort of half a step behind him
Yeah.
The grip on his thigh intensified
As they walked slowly through the corridor
He named the hallway "Lust"
And as they passed through the next one
He named it "Fear"
The grip she now loosened it
So he walked faster
Her hands now trembling she let
drop 2 her side as she read the word "Insecurity"
He
looked into her eyes and smiled a demon smile
And quickly
walked onto the next
Corridor after corridor
He named almost all when suddenly… he stopped
He painted the word "Hate"
She was gone
So he painted the last one – "Pain"
Dec 12, 2006
Dec 11, 2006
God (Part 2)
I wrote about an experience I had on LJ and the experience was such that I needed to have another one of my little "Conversations with God". I wanted to know what was mentally going on in the heads of the people involved. I wanted to know what would make any of what went on something necessary. I wanted to know the mentality of a pissing contest.
God rules sometimes. I start the iPod and I'm expecting some Eminem or some randomness - not sure if I have a song that would help me figure this out. The Fight Club mentality isn't something I'm sure has been translated into musical form, but God is amazing - and out came the following:
Lana drew a picture in school today
One that made her mother cry
a picture of a woman with a drink in her hand
Standing by a child with no eyes
Washington's reaction based upon revenge
Babies blown to kingdom come
Damn the logic - cartoon characters look better when they're on the run
Danny dropped a dime on his girlfriend
He said he didn't wanna go to jail alone
The Seed lives in the same mind with the thought that says
"We all should be stoned"
People looking for angels in the sky
whenever they're broken hearted
Love is grown when seeds are sown
A fire don't burn unless it's started.
Did you ever feel like life is like a penny
In a large room with no light?
A sophisticated mass produced cacophony
of no-win situations that aren't right
Everytime you wake up there's a little motherfucker
Talkin' big stuff in your face
You only get the kind of people that open their mouth
Just to swallow feet.
Welcome to the Rat Race.
God rules sometimes. I start the iPod and I'm expecting some Eminem or some randomness - not sure if I have a song that would help me figure this out. The Fight Club mentality isn't something I'm sure has been translated into musical form, but God is amazing - and out came the following:
Lana drew a picture in school today
One that made her mother cry
a picture of a woman with a drink in her hand
Standing by a child with no eyes
Washington's reaction based upon revenge
Babies blown to kingdom come
Damn the logic - cartoon characters look better when they're on the run
Danny dropped a dime on his girlfriend
He said he didn't wanna go to jail alone
The Seed lives in the same mind with the thought that says
"We all should be stoned"
People looking for angels in the sky
whenever they're broken hearted
Love is grown when seeds are sown
A fire don't burn unless it's started.
Did you ever feel like life is like a penny
In a large room with no light?
A sophisticated mass produced cacophony
of no-win situations that aren't right
Everytime you wake up there's a little motherfucker
Talkin' big stuff in your face
You only get the kind of people that open their mouth
Just to swallow feet.
Welcome to the Rat Race.
Nov 26, 2006
The Turns Life Takes
This road is a never-ending and constantly winding one. If you aren't careful you'll take a turn too quickly and end up flying off a cliff or flipped over in a ditch. Life is not a pin straight interstate. Life is the scenic route.
There are moments when you'll stop on the tour you're taking to take a picture. You file the photo away in the annals of your mind, get back on the road, and drive on. There are moments you stop at a rest stop and maybe sit at a picnic table and review the photos you've taken along the way. You wonder if the scenery is the same. You wonder if the beautiful park you remember has been paved over and turned into something else.
This road of life has one flaw though. You can't go back.
Sure, you can turn around and revisit the sites. The images of your past are rarely the same, sadly. Makes and models of cars change. Houses and malls and parking lots grow where trees and fields once grew.
You should stop a moment. See if your road is speeding along too quickly. You never know when your engine will fail or stall and wouldn't it be nice to know that the mechanic that once helped fix you - is still available?
There are moments when you'll stop on the tour you're taking to take a picture. You file the photo away in the annals of your mind, get back on the road, and drive on. There are moments you stop at a rest stop and maybe sit at a picnic table and review the photos you've taken along the way. You wonder if the scenery is the same. You wonder if the beautiful park you remember has been paved over and turned into something else.
This road of life has one flaw though. You can't go back.
Sure, you can turn around and revisit the sites. The images of your past are rarely the same, sadly. Makes and models of cars change. Houses and malls and parking lots grow where trees and fields once grew.
You should stop a moment. See if your road is speeding along too quickly. You never know when your engine will fail or stall and wouldn't it be nice to know that the mechanic that once helped fix you - is still available?
Nov 24, 2006
God
Sometimes God talks to me through my iPod. I know, I know - this sounds rather ridiculous, partially insane, and completely reta... well, you get the picture. But, God and I are on the same page with this, and as long as that's true, I really don't care what people think. (Why blog it then?)
God used to talk to me through my CD Changer, I had one of those super-juiced up 500 disc Sony CD Changer Jukeboxes that had all the song titles and artist names programmed into the LCD. It was very, very cool. Friends would bring CDs and pop them in to one of the empty slots... and always forget that they were in there. I got a lot of CDs that way.
The first time I had my little sing along with God was after reading the back cover of "Conversations with God". There's paragraph on the cover that reads: "...Ask Me anything. Anything. I will contrive to bring you the answer. The whole universe will I use to do this. So be on the lookout; this book is far from My only tool. You may ask a question, then put this book down. But watch. Listen. The words to the next song you hear..."
So I tested the book. I tested God.
I closed my eyes and asked... not so much asked as supplicated... "Do you really talk through everything around me? How can I be sure? How can I know it's you and not some coincidence?"
And I hit "Shuffle" on the CD changer. And around and around she went. And I closed my eyes as if opening them meant I was cheating and could somehow change the course of what would come through the speakers if I went about it with open eyes. And the following words came through the speaker... words from a song that I clearly owned the CD of yet had never, ever heard.
"Let your soul be your pilot, let your soul guide you, it will guide you well."
I did it again and again since then. Not on a daily basis... things I need to hear come from everywhere and I don't really need to ask out loud or close my eyes. I don't need to beg the heavens to read me my life in a book. I don't need to watch my life in a movie.
This morning I needed some guidance, so I left my house and walked and walked and walked. I hit shuffle on the iPod, and had a nice chat with God. The chat ended and I was on Cortland in front of the Leopard Lounge. There's this rather cool building over there, across the street from that lounge, with a cool yard that in the summer and spring reminds me of Heaven. Or my version of Heaven I should say. I find myself there quite often. At least since I moved to Wicker Park.
The song that was playing was Separate Lives. God spoke. And the words meant even more when I realized how my soul had piloted me to my destination. I looked to my left and to my complete surprise saw the sign for The Bucktown Pub.
God used to talk to me through my CD Changer, I had one of those super-juiced up 500 disc Sony CD Changer Jukeboxes that had all the song titles and artist names programmed into the LCD. It was very, very cool. Friends would bring CDs and pop them in to one of the empty slots... and always forget that they were in there. I got a lot of CDs that way.
The first time I had my little sing along with God was after reading the back cover of "Conversations with God". There's paragraph on the cover that reads: "...Ask Me anything. Anything. I will contrive to bring you the answer. The whole universe will I use to do this. So be on the lookout; this book is far from My only tool. You may ask a question, then put this book down. But watch. Listen. The words to the next song you hear..."
So I tested the book. I tested God.
I closed my eyes and asked... not so much asked as supplicated... "Do you really talk through everything around me? How can I be sure? How can I know it's you and not some coincidence?"
And I hit "Shuffle" on the CD changer. And around and around she went. And I closed my eyes as if opening them meant I was cheating and could somehow change the course of what would come through the speakers if I went about it with open eyes. And the following words came through the speaker... words from a song that I clearly owned the CD of yet had never, ever heard.
"Let your soul be your pilot, let your soul guide you, it will guide you well."
I did it again and again since then. Not on a daily basis... things I need to hear come from everywhere and I don't really need to ask out loud or close my eyes. I don't need to beg the heavens to read me my life in a book. I don't need to watch my life in a movie.
This morning I needed some guidance, so I left my house and walked and walked and walked. I hit shuffle on the iPod, and had a nice chat with God. The chat ended and I was on Cortland in front of the Leopard Lounge. There's this rather cool building over there, across the street from that lounge, with a cool yard that in the summer and spring reminds me of Heaven. Or my version of Heaven I should say. I find myself there quite often. At least since I moved to Wicker Park.
The song that was playing was Separate Lives. God spoke. And the words meant even more when I realized how my soul had piloted me to my destination. I looked to my left and to my complete surprise saw the sign for The Bucktown Pub.
Nov 22, 2006
I'm so done with Thanksgiving.
First off, I've never been one to believe in celebrating this holiday. Especially since my heritage is mostly born of what happened when the Spaniards invaded the Americas. The worst part of the holiday are my family members. If we're to celebrate it - it's not celebrating Pilgrims and Indians or whatever - but celebrating family. Family, a word that none of mine gets.
1 of them doesn't want to go to the other one's house because there is no tv. The other one doesn't want to go to the other's house because there IS a tv. They can't come to my house because I have to work.... and little do they know that the reason I DO work is to avoid them... ALL of them.
My aunt wants pork. My husband wants turkey. All I ever really end up eating is rice and salad. My cousins never get anywhere on time so we spend hours waiting for one or the other. My grandmother can't show up because now her arthritis has reached her hip and she can't sit on a plane long enough to visit for Thanksgiving. And God forbid we all pack up and head to Florida to make her happy for a holiday.
They should rename it. "A Day to Remember Why You Couldn't Wait to Grow Up and Have a Family of Your Own Day".. little did you know when you got your own family - you'd still have to deal with the extended family as well.
I ordered dinner this year from Boston Market. Whoever doesn't like it can stay at home. I'm done.
1 of them doesn't want to go to the other one's house because there is no tv. The other one doesn't want to go to the other's house because there IS a tv. They can't come to my house because I have to work.... and little do they know that the reason I DO work is to avoid them... ALL of them.
My aunt wants pork. My husband wants turkey. All I ever really end up eating is rice and salad. My cousins never get anywhere on time so we spend hours waiting for one or the other. My grandmother can't show up because now her arthritis has reached her hip and she can't sit on a plane long enough to visit for Thanksgiving. And God forbid we all pack up and head to Florida to make her happy for a holiday.
They should rename it. "A Day to Remember Why You Couldn't Wait to Grow Up and Have a Family of Your Own Day".. little did you know when you got your own family - you'd still have to deal with the extended family as well.
I ordered dinner this year from Boston Market. Whoever doesn't like it can stay at home. I'm done.
Nov 21, 2006
Idiot
Who knew that age regression was as easy as 5 gimlets? I've been drunk and stupid, but I've gotten over it pretty quickly. But last saturday, I went beyond retarded. I regressed to high school, and not just high school, but it was like everything I don't remember being in high school.
The worst part is, I don't even remember how I acted, I only have 3rd party accounts of what I said / did / acted like. It goes beyond anything I've ever remembered myself doing.
Sure, there was the time I fell off a float at the Pride parade and kissed some strange woman, puked all over Sam, and ended up an ad in countless newspapers. And of course there was the time when I was in High School in Puerto Rico that I ended up somehow on the side of the road and had to walk 14 miles back to my house, only to collapse on the front porch because Dad had locked me out.
It scares me that I've never been drunk enough to not even know what I said or if I did anything - wrong, til now.
I've promised myself that I'll never get that way again. Set limits, assign beverage sitters... tell the waiter at the beginning of the night, after 3 I'm cut off, regardless of what I say.
Lucky for me I was with a very safe bunch of people. Lucky for me THEY took care of me and regardless of whatever I said or did made sure I got home safe - made sure that whatever idiotic thing I did / said didn't go far. Lucky for me these people are true friends and can forgive anything I might have said, done, or otherwise... because clearly it's day 4 after the fact and I still can't forgive myself.
The worst part is, I don't even remember how I acted, I only have 3rd party accounts of what I said / did / acted like. It goes beyond anything I've ever remembered myself doing.
Sure, there was the time I fell off a float at the Pride parade and kissed some strange woman, puked all over Sam, and ended up an ad in countless newspapers. And of course there was the time when I was in High School in Puerto Rico that I ended up somehow on the side of the road and had to walk 14 miles back to my house, only to collapse on the front porch because Dad had locked me out.
It scares me that I've never been drunk enough to not even know what I said or if I did anything - wrong, til now.
I've promised myself that I'll never get that way again. Set limits, assign beverage sitters... tell the waiter at the beginning of the night, after 3 I'm cut off, regardless of what I say.
Lucky for me I was with a very safe bunch of people. Lucky for me THEY took care of me and regardless of whatever I said or did made sure I got home safe - made sure that whatever idiotic thing I did / said didn't go far. Lucky for me these people are true friends and can forgive anything I might have said, done, or otherwise... because clearly it's day 4 after the fact and I still can't forgive myself.
Nov 17, 2006
Oct 8, 2006
On Stage (in progress)
Beyond the footlights all I see
a sea of sclera and iris
floating in darkness watching my every move.
Inside my heart - a mess of electrical malfunction
My brain a constant chatter of synaptic misfire
My hands a different temperature
Leaking perspiration - yet cold.
Sounds attempt to emanate from my biological speaker
And my esophagus slowly closes
My screams sound like whispers.
Whispers that can't be heard over
The jackhammer inside my ribcage.
a sea of sclera and iris
floating in darkness watching my every move.
Inside my heart - a mess of electrical malfunction
My brain a constant chatter of synaptic misfire
My hands a different temperature
Leaking perspiration - yet cold.
Sounds attempt to emanate from my biological speaker
And my esophagus slowly closes
My screams sound like whispers.
Whispers that can't be heard over
The jackhammer inside my ribcage.
Sep 29, 2006
Sep 10, 2006
Sep 9, 2006
Sep 6, 2006
How many sites can one keep up with?
I have this site. I have TWO forums that are my own. I have some sites that are purely work related. I keep up with an ARG that is so frustrating it truly IS pronounced "arg!" I have 4 blogs I post to. I have a livejournal that I can't even CREATE the page because I'm on all this other crap. I have myspace, and facebook, and flickr. Not to mention a couple chat rooms, yahoo, aol, and msn.
I used to read Natalie Dee's Page and Drew's Page and the marriage of the two regularly. I don't anymore because between emails, chatting, IMing, blogging, and Speaker's blog I don't have the time.
Can I hire someone to be me - just to do the online stuff that I'm responsible for but no longer feel like doing? I mean I DO have some like... um... JOBS. Every week there's a new site that I have to join or start up a page on because the last page is "so played". Can we stop the madness now? We have youtube, we have flickr, we have photobucket, we have myspace, and all that other shit I've mentioned previously... LISTEN UP INTERNET FOLX:
STOP MAKING UP NEW WAYS OF DOING THE SAME SHIT!
MYSPACE FOLX: I get enough email damnit, I don't need an additional place to check email... I have a blog, I didn't need another one, I have instant messengers and comments on THIS blog... S T O P T H E M A D N E S S!
*Ranting over*
I used to read Natalie Dee's Page and Drew's Page and the marriage of the two regularly. I don't anymore because between emails, chatting, IMing, blogging, and Speaker's blog I don't have the time.
Can I hire someone to be me - just to do the online stuff that I'm responsible for but no longer feel like doing? I mean I DO have some like... um... JOBS. Every week there's a new site that I have to join or start up a page on because the last page is "so played". Can we stop the madness now? We have youtube, we have flickr, we have photobucket, we have myspace, and all that other shit I've mentioned previously... LISTEN UP INTERNET FOLX:
STOP MAKING UP NEW WAYS OF DOING THE SAME SHIT!
MYSPACE FOLX: I get enough email damnit, I don't need an additional place to check email... I have a blog, I didn't need another one, I have instant messengers and comments on THIS blog... S T O P T H E M A D N E S S!
*Ranting over*
Sep 5, 2006
Fucking Construction Cockknockers
That's right, I said it. Why? Because they are.
These asswipes that are doing construction on our building next door, they should be killed. I want to know what possesses someone to start super-loud noises straightaway at 8:00AM only to STOP making noise by 8:30? They couldn't wait a fucking hour?
And these particular idiots next door... they couldn't build a stack of legos. You know the stack you used to make when u were a kid that was just 1 long tower made of multicolored pieces. You made this stack because you didn't care anymore about building things that made sense. Plugging one piece into the ass of another was basically good enough after a certain point. The same way you gave up trying to keep the playdoh colors separate after the newness wore off.
I've digressed into childhood toy metaphors because I'm too sleepy to continue my homicidal thoughts about the jackasses next door. All over the city they can build whole complexes in a 24 hour period. These bastards have taken us over for more than a year. Every day they work for exactly 2 hours, and then they give up and go home.
I want to use a jackhammer... on their fucking heads. And I want to do it at 8am, and finish promptly at 8:30.
These asswipes that are doing construction on our building next door, they should be killed. I want to know what possesses someone to start super-loud noises straightaway at 8:00AM only to STOP making noise by 8:30? They couldn't wait a fucking hour?
And these particular idiots next door... they couldn't build a stack of legos. You know the stack you used to make when u were a kid that was just 1 long tower made of multicolored pieces. You made this stack because you didn't care anymore about building things that made sense. Plugging one piece into the ass of another was basically good enough after a certain point. The same way you gave up trying to keep the playdoh colors separate after the newness wore off.
I've digressed into childhood toy metaphors because I'm too sleepy to continue my homicidal thoughts about the jackasses next door. All over the city they can build whole complexes in a 24 hour period. These bastards have taken us over for more than a year. Every day they work for exactly 2 hours, and then they give up and go home.
I want to use a jackhammer... on their fucking heads. And I want to do it at 8am, and finish promptly at 8:30.
Aug 31, 2006
Today I start something new
Today I start posting pictures of people outside of studio five - I don't know how I'm going to integrate this into the nbc5 blog at all. Marcus said they could hook me up with my own slideshow if I wanted but that would involve getting someone else to do the work. I don't want to give someone else more work... I want to do it on my own. They'd probably get pissed off if I decided to post the pix on flickr and link the slideshow. They don't seem to want to do anything that isn't all self contained to the nbc5 page.
I dunno. I think I'm way over thinking this blog. :)
I dunno. I think I'm way over thinking this blog. :)
Aug 30, 2006
I haven't updated in like, forever.
I realized that I'm managing to post almost daily on http://www.nbc5.com/roughdraft but I can't manage to update my OWN blog. There's something wrong with that so from now on I will update this thing. It's only fair.
I've gotten 2 new tattoos in the last month. Both tattoos are right above my wrist, where you would take my pulse if you were inclined to do so. I'm not going to lie, it hurt. It hurt pretty bad actually. I mean I smiled and told jokes the whole time, and kept my usual level of coolness, but it wasn't ticklish in the least.
If you've never gotten a tattoo - you've probably gotten scratched by either a cat, or dog, or the corner of your coffee table. That is what it feels like... being scratched to the point of bleeding. Imagine being scratched over and over again for however long it takes to get the ink into your flesh. Now that's your base feeling, let's add to it shall we?
People always ask where it hurts the most, and I don't know the answer to that I haven't had my entire body done. Lift your arm and pinch the skin on your arm right before your arm becomes your armpit. Pinch it hard, don't be afraid. This pain will only last as long as you make it last so go for it. Hurts doesn't it? I have a tattoo there.
That one, was the only one that I wouldn't classify under the fun category. I didn't smile, or laugh, or tell jokes when I got that tattoo done. I mean, I didn't cry either, but laughter was not on the menu. Hamburger was. Hamburger is the only thing I remember from that day 12 years ago when I got the armband tattooed around my upper left arm. Not because I ate a hamburger that day. Because it FELT like hamburger when the apprentice that tattooed me had completed that particular section.
The tattoos I got this weekend don't compare in the slightest with that pain. The dragon I have that takes up 87% of the flesh of my right arm, that didn't hurt as much as the burger underneath my left arm. The stomach, not as much. NOT ONE of my 24 tattoos hurt anywhere near as much as that burger tat did. But until my entire body is covered head to toe in color - I will not answer the question of where it hurts the most. I simply don't know.
Whether that tattoo was my most painful to date. Yes, God yes! If it was Penny's fault that it hurt that much, or the placement of it that caused the excruciating almost needing vicodin pain, I'll never know the answer to that either. I refuse to get something in the same spot on my right arm. No one is that masochistic.
I've gotten 2 new tattoos in the last month. Both tattoos are right above my wrist, where you would take my pulse if you were inclined to do so. I'm not going to lie, it hurt. It hurt pretty bad actually. I mean I smiled and told jokes the whole time, and kept my usual level of coolness, but it wasn't ticklish in the least.
If you've never gotten a tattoo - you've probably gotten scratched by either a cat, or dog, or the corner of your coffee table. That is what it feels like... being scratched to the point of bleeding. Imagine being scratched over and over again for however long it takes to get the ink into your flesh. Now that's your base feeling, let's add to it shall we?
People always ask where it hurts the most, and I don't know the answer to that I haven't had my entire body done. Lift your arm and pinch the skin on your arm right before your arm becomes your armpit. Pinch it hard, don't be afraid. This pain will only last as long as you make it last so go for it. Hurts doesn't it? I have a tattoo there.
That one, was the only one that I wouldn't classify under the fun category. I didn't smile, or laugh, or tell jokes when I got that tattoo done. I mean, I didn't cry either, but laughter was not on the menu. Hamburger was. Hamburger is the only thing I remember from that day 12 years ago when I got the armband tattooed around my upper left arm. Not because I ate a hamburger that day. Because it FELT like hamburger when the apprentice that tattooed me had completed that particular section.
The tattoos I got this weekend don't compare in the slightest with that pain. The dragon I have that takes up 87% of the flesh of my right arm, that didn't hurt as much as the burger underneath my left arm. The stomach, not as much. NOT ONE of my 24 tattoos hurt anywhere near as much as that burger tat did. But until my entire body is covered head to toe in color - I will not answer the question of where it hurts the most. I simply don't know.
Whether that tattoo was my most painful to date. Yes, God yes! If it was Penny's fault that it hurt that much, or the placement of it that caused the excruciating almost needing vicodin pain, I'll never know the answer to that either. I refuse to get something in the same spot on my right arm. No one is that masochistic.
Jul 31, 2006
Jul 13, 2006
Jul 7, 2006
Jul 4, 2006
Jun 22, 2006
Jun 21, 2006
I'm completely LOST
Jun 20, 2006
LOST -
I am so obsessed with this Lost Experience that I've actually put my DS down. I went to New York for 5 days and when I came back and realized that I'd missed some pretty BIG clues... I even offered Speaker815 my highly collectible autographed MEDIUM 3d glasses.
I'm glad I don't have a regular job and only have to pay attention at work for 2 hours a day because the way this game is going a lot of us are going to lose our jobs over this.
I'm glad I don't have a regular job and only have to pay attention at work for 2 hours a day because the way this game is going a lot of us are going to lose our jobs over this.
Jun 7, 2006
LOST
To see the shark with the dharma logo on it... it appears close to the screen for pausing right when Sawyer decides to go for the pontoon... before Michael shoots the shark...