I will vanquish young, old, fit and infirm, from single cells to complex organisms, all shall kiss and lather my lotus verbage. Victory once again. I thought I would take a break from the mediocre Burroughs -induced visions of middle class existentialism, to write this. I really have very little idea what I am going to say, but am getting a kind of urinary Uranian urgency to write, and since Venus is reposing her beautiful curvy posterior in my 3rd house, of ritin, readin and rithmatic, you get the idea. If this doesn't work you can blame it on the gas leak from nearby Neptune, or rash inducing contacts with Saturn or Uranus. If it works, you can still blame it on those sociopaths, or laughingly credit it to support from the friendly planets in Sagittarius.
Really this is fully intended as a challenge to a series of death matches with all dissatisfied residents of time space. We can mud wrestle our way to the career bilger post of Chief Executive Big Medicine Lord Supreme Philosopher, the winner going comfortably to an ornate tomb kept warm by the recently slain bodies of a slavish retinue. How does this translate into journey to the center of the learning curve- ese? Just do it, Nike. I hope that all are spellbound, kurued and edified into submission, but if this is not the case, you know where my email lives, and feel free, regardless of sentiments, to express yourself, pre-Madonna. Of course if you tiptoe beyond the bounds of basic criminality, I will be forced to let the appropriate authorities execute you in a dark comfortable place of their own choosing.
Let me say also by way of explanation that I am the frailest and meekest of helpful neotonous souls, and want in no way to incur the wroth wrath of anyone. However, I am not a coward.
Most importantly though, I think that I have fallen in love with Rachel Ray. Maybe I need incarnations of overpriced therapy, but I get sizzling hot when I hear her speak, and especially when she waxes lyrical about how she is not good at something. Ok I admit it I need help. That is the first step.
How about that new president eh? He has still to take office, and the press are getting ready to craft his biography including obituary. Give him a chance! He himself said that if we don't like what he has done after four years, we can vote him out and install Sarah Palin's ... moose, or whoever the Republicads(TM) have conjured up for the next election. The attention on Obama is understandable but the slant is not. Some of the critiques are coming from the usual hosers who lament the fact that Barry Geldwasser never established a Republican House of Hanover, but there is also criticism from some slight radicals who are " in a mood" because Obama refuses to transform our republic into a Gay/Feminist/Green oligarchical Eden before even taking office. I hate to let these poor souls know this, but not all of us have that severity of utopian vision. Verve Pipe sucks, btw, someone should but a stick of dynamite up their verve pipe, except they might enjoy it.
ON A NEW TOPIC Here is an almost exhaustive list of the decent bands from England during the 90s: Bush. Ok I might include a few "tunes" by some other bands. Was Elastica in the 90s? Even if they were in the 80s, they were a decent 90s band, like the Cranberries. No they don't count there is a difference between England and Ireland, you Americans....
I wonders if there were any great German bands that we were not aware of due to our deficiency in fluent German. Here are the Great German Pop Bands, as I understand them (Official Chief Executive Pol Pot of Music Stamp of Approval)1) Kraftwerk. To be honest, I think the term Kraftwerk could easily include all new wave bands. Pretty big roster I guess. Some are more closely and obviously affined (new word- take that you idiot spell check!) like Gary Numan, but even something like REM has uncoagulated Krafwerk spewing forth from gaping wounds. Sure, Joy Division, but weren't they an interbred combination of Krafwerk and the Sex Pistols, themselves a British version of the 5 Iggy MC Popp??? Well?? Sorry, I need to lie down. But where does Tambourine Dream fit into everything???!!?? I mean it, I need answers and I need answers now!!
2) Nena. Not very influential, but quite cute and their one song was a lot of fun. And penetratingly political. There must have been some other intelligent cutey saturated bands from Germany that could have made trillions in the musical conquest of the male Australopithecus Robustus hoards in the US in the 80s... I hate to be mean, but a good Langenscheidt could have been a one way ticket to stardom.
3) Rammstein. But we already have Ministry. So who needs any other band at all? Still Du Hast was good and pinched the threshold limit of the ability for the average American to digest a foreign (or even indigenous) language.
4) And of course.. "We Gonna Sting Ya!!!" Guys, you still need some hint of the auxiliary, otherwise it sounds like a two year old's first attempts at language. Actually their one ballad is fine.
That's All !!!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
How To Be Yourself, Get Rich And Retire Before You Are Seven!!!
It seems like there is so much self help out there on the Internet, and yet still there is not enough. So I thought that I would contribute my addition. I saw one definition of one's self as the clothes you wear, and how you should insult someone if they don't like what you wear, and if that doesn't work, you should ignore them. The first thing that I thought was: if you are naked, do you lose your identity? I guess this would really be a problem when you are in bed with someone. You are madly in love, but after all the clothes are off, you don't know if you are yourself, Errol Flynn, or a porcupine. I will never have to worry about this, not because I don't know who I am , which I don't, but because I will never be naked.
After the wardrobe equals identity part, there was a more serious treatment of the issue. The first step was to find yourself. I can usually be found in the trash after all other possibilities have been exhausted. The article talked about what you like to and don't like to do. I like to sleep, maybe I am a narcoleptic. I also like to have sex, so maybe I should be a porn star.. of course I do like to do other things as well, as long as they don't resemble work. I have an interest in ancient history, which is why I have pursued graduate studies in the subject, but if it will ever pay even a plug nickel it will be a miracle. Who you are seems like it must be tied together with making money, even though this is not my choice at all. The alternative is to do something, anything that will give you money, so you can later quit your stupid job and do what you really like to do. By that time you are retired and may have moments left to live, if you are lucky. Another problem though is that you are too enfeebled to enjoy doing what you really like, and may not even be able to remember what that was... So I say start doing what you like to do now, even if you end up starving to death. It will make a great romantic story for someone else's successful movie.
Headline point number two was to stop worrying about what others think about you. This is easier said than done, It seems like those who clearly never worry about what others think about them are sociopaths, and end up living the dream in prison. These cards are as free as birds, they could care less what anyone thinks about them, unfortunately they are relegated to being themselves within prison walls. You have to worry about what someone thinks about you I think or you cannot succeed. Everyone has some kind of audience and you are allowed to offend the common "enemy" of you and your audience, but if you lose the audience, you are doomed. Even a solitary person like a scientist or inventor, can not just be after their intellectual objective. They have to please some boss or bosses, or they can never market whatever they produce. Again if the goal is righteous starving obscurity, you can eschew all public opinion.
Number four was be open and honest. So I would like to say that all humans are hopeless hypocrites, who have artificially manufactured a junk filled society, that either long ago stopped being a civilization, or never was one. I will accept all accolades at the stage door thank you. I can be honest about myself as well. I am never really honest, as I like to hide my true self which is something that I am inexpressibly deeply ashamed of. Another wonderful statement to add to my resume. Well I can tell you all that I am saturated with ego, fear, lusts and everything else, and am enough of student of history and biology to know that this is no real revelation. It is also not liberating, acceptable, or a ticket to gold plated stardom.
I am getting tired of these platitudes, so I will finish with the last point I read: Develop your individuality. Have your own sense of style, until you realize that it is a slavish imitation of the style of someone else. Part of my style is liking to talk to myself, as I feel that there is no one around me that I could have an interesting conversation with. I am sure I could find either shallow or caustic, but I don't think that I could find interesting. This habit makes people think that I am a lunatic, and I am, but it really is not very satisfying, it is just another wonderful maladaption to a maladaptive society. Even though I often enjoy my own witticisms, I think no one around me could possibly get them, not because they require an iq of 400 to penetrate, but because they are so weird. People are getting weirder, but not intellectually weirder. They just seem to get more and more aggressive and paranoid, and less and less cerebral, and more and more conformist. Well good luck to them all anyway.
So the grand conclusion to this essay is to suggest that you imitate someone interesting from the past, because it is impossible to discover who you are anyway. Society in the past just required more phony and elaborate personalities than it does now, so choose one of the classics. Have fun....
After the wardrobe equals identity part, there was a more serious treatment of the issue. The first step was to find yourself. I can usually be found in the trash after all other possibilities have been exhausted. The article talked about what you like to and don't like to do. I like to sleep, maybe I am a narcoleptic. I also like to have sex, so maybe I should be a porn star.. of course I do like to do other things as well, as long as they don't resemble work. I have an interest in ancient history, which is why I have pursued graduate studies in the subject, but if it will ever pay even a plug nickel it will be a miracle. Who you are seems like it must be tied together with making money, even though this is not my choice at all. The alternative is to do something, anything that will give you money, so you can later quit your stupid job and do what you really like to do. By that time you are retired and may have moments left to live, if you are lucky. Another problem though is that you are too enfeebled to enjoy doing what you really like, and may not even be able to remember what that was... So I say start doing what you like to do now, even if you end up starving to death. It will make a great romantic story for someone else's successful movie.
Headline point number two was to stop worrying about what others think about you. This is easier said than done, It seems like those who clearly never worry about what others think about them are sociopaths, and end up living the dream in prison. These cards are as free as birds, they could care less what anyone thinks about them, unfortunately they are relegated to being themselves within prison walls. You have to worry about what someone thinks about you I think or you cannot succeed. Everyone has some kind of audience and you are allowed to offend the common "enemy" of you and your audience, but if you lose the audience, you are doomed. Even a solitary person like a scientist or inventor, can not just be after their intellectual objective. They have to please some boss or bosses, or they can never market whatever they produce. Again if the goal is righteous starving obscurity, you can eschew all public opinion.
Number four was be open and honest. So I would like to say that all humans are hopeless hypocrites, who have artificially manufactured a junk filled society, that either long ago stopped being a civilization, or never was one. I will accept all accolades at the stage door thank you. I can be honest about myself as well. I am never really honest, as I like to hide my true self which is something that I am inexpressibly deeply ashamed of. Another wonderful statement to add to my resume. Well I can tell you all that I am saturated with ego, fear, lusts and everything else, and am enough of student of history and biology to know that this is no real revelation. It is also not liberating, acceptable, or a ticket to gold plated stardom.
I am getting tired of these platitudes, so I will finish with the last point I read: Develop your individuality. Have your own sense of style, until you realize that it is a slavish imitation of the style of someone else. Part of my style is liking to talk to myself, as I feel that there is no one around me that I could have an interesting conversation with. I am sure I could find either shallow or caustic, but I don't think that I could find interesting. This habit makes people think that I am a lunatic, and I am, but it really is not very satisfying, it is just another wonderful maladaption to a maladaptive society. Even though I often enjoy my own witticisms, I think no one around me could possibly get them, not because they require an iq of 400 to penetrate, but because they are so weird. People are getting weirder, but not intellectually weirder. They just seem to get more and more aggressive and paranoid, and less and less cerebral, and more and more conformist. Well good luck to them all anyway.
So the grand conclusion to this essay is to suggest that you imitate someone interesting from the past, because it is impossible to discover who you are anyway. Society in the past just required more phony and elaborate personalities than it does now, so choose one of the classics. Have fun....
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
10 second cure for the Great Depression!!
Well, as you can tell from the previous post l, I will never be published as a fiction writer, that is, I will never make any money at it- in fact it seems as I may never make any money at anything again! I realize I am not a very good fiction writer. My fiction highlights all the great qualities in the great writers, in a reciprocal kind of way. My writing is disorganized, with fluctuating characterization: vistas of boredom punctuated by moments of genuine poetry, again engulfed in seas of boredom. I like my poetry/lyrics better, at least the stuff that I used to write. I will plop some here one of these days. I may give you a speed poem at the end of this thing if can force it from my emotional pores. Nah, good at bits and pieces. Fairly original, I have read alot of crazy garbage in my day, and never seen anything like my crazy garbage. Of course their stuff is often better. Or used to be. As mentioned here before, there is NOTHING current in the arts and media that interests me now, unless it has some accumulated deposition of the past.
There you can't be depressed after reading this- your life couldn't be 1/10 as rotten as mine. I want to insert a disclaimer here: If you don't want to know what I think about issues near and far DON'T READ THIS! This is not part of my resume, and is intended only for those who have a sense of humor and WOULD LIKE TO BE ENTERTAINED. If you have a weak stomach, go to Harry Potter dot com. Better yet stay away from that too. THOSE NOT INTERESTED NEED NOT RESPOND (Stan Laurel in "Going Bye Bye")
No one does anyway. If they only tracked my own visits, an appalling lack of interest in this site would nonetheless be evident. Tell your friends! Warn your enemies! Teach your children so they can avoid this kind of perdition! What can one write when the moon is in the 6th house.. everything feels like work, and gives you a a scratchy throat. We should be out there joining plumbing and washing the surface of the Earth, mopping the trees, polishing the stars, and still feeling guilty, because we are not working as hard as we did in our past incarnations as mentally feeble hospital staff. Unless I go to some job that forces me to wear clothes I would rather not own, act like a demi phoney for 8 plus hours and then go home and try to reduce the facial swelling from having a fake smile plastered on my lips by retreating into a primal cocoon of infantile cartoons... (STP just came on!! WOO! "And I feel at times a ways to go.. and I see that these are lives to come, so would you even care.. Where you going with the mask I found. I feel when the dogs begin to smell her (Faulkner) where she stands alone GREAT I complain alot so I will say that the best songs byt this band are GREAT!!!! ");"?> NEW SUBJECT- even if the lyrics are only close, some great lyrics are written with the poet him/herself only being subconsciously aware of some meanings. We can clear some things up for the writer.. and even if we are "wrong" it is an interesting lyrical Roarshock test.
I wish AOL's smashing pumpkins station would only play stuff from Gish, Siamese Dream, Mellon Collie, or P Iscariot. This Chief Executive Stalin of Music has spoken. Nothing wrong with a CES if they know what they are talking about, and I do with regard to music, Egyptology, literature, dinosaurs and a few other things, so stop squirming.
On to the title of this thing. If any of you are suffering from depression, before you rush off to be wrongly diagnosed and medicated, try these simple steps first, if you are not too hypomanic to accept advice. 1) Get out of the house. If you walk outside and it is an overcast winter horror land with angry banks of clouds shutting you off from the Sun God Ra for fortnights at time, then jump on a plane to California, or Florida, or Hawaii, and negotiate a lucrative contract with Anything at all Megainc, and make sure they give a door to your office and a nice window. You will be able to feel your brain drinking the nectar of the beautiful Sun as you become more content, creative and tolerant by the second. Bullies can spit in your mouth and stretch your bones like rubber, and you will giggle. By the end of the week you will have generated so many insanely wonderful ideas for your own business that you will be able to kick over you boss's desk and tweak his bulbous nose and cackle your way out into the windy liberation of free enterprise. When you come to terms with black reality in your weekly rented motel room, you won't care much. It will be peaceful and you will have 3000 channels to choose from. Find old newspapers with undated Domino's coupons and you can live like royalty on pizza and tap water for some time to come. Open the drapes at least once a week.
2) If getting you out of the house only lands you in another more disreputable house, then you must become an Internet Robber Barron. Simply stay in whatever squalor is now your natural state, and bask in the glory of the sunshine (You MUST live in a sunny place). If you have anything to sell, sell it on the Internet. Even if you are only able to sell vintage dust mites, it is a start. Become the finest, most reputable Dust Mite Vendor in the Multiverse. If you are so disgustingly untalented that you are unable to even sell allergens, then you might want to manufacture a talent to entertain the sagging unemployed masses of humanity that want to cling to impossible fragments of hope in the form of an overpriced high speed Internet connection that constitutes their sole piece of furniture, foist material possession, and dearest votive object. You can be writer for example. Even if you are a brachylocomoting orange haired misfit who flies into a rage when deprived of bananas, you can be a success. Just keep typing if everything else fails, you will run into an idea. You could modify Burrough's cutting techniche, and snip random words out of color circulars, toilet paper packages, summons, archived post it notes, knitting them together in stanza form and capitalizing as many words as possible, possibly even using an Olde English font, and given the size of the Internut (TM) and the sea of cranial capacities less than 1400 cc, you should be a billionaire in no time, without suffering anything more than acute callouses.
If the above ideas fail, and they assuredly will, you could always marry a sexy rich nymphomaniac who is slavishly devoted to you. You could try the trillionaire presonals, but that is really too pedestrian. Melt your material "wealth" into a glass of gold, and then buy a first class Sears suit or gown, and the hangout in the places that the Rich and Disturbed haunt. Psychiatrist offices are great places. If you have bit of fake brains you can use this is good, but not necessary. If you can hold a magazine right side up, you are in business. Don't talk- most people are egomaniacs and love to talk about themselves. Ask one question about them and they will tell you everything including bathroom habits. Smile ALOT, keep nodding your head no matter how insipidly the conversation drifts into art, exotic pets, or right/left wing politics. Focus on the attractiveness of the person, and you will be eating out of their hand in now time. NOTE: you may have to put up with nauseating inconveniences like cellulite, odd body hair, or rubbing imported lotions on their back, but you will have more loot that J Paul Giddy, so who cares.
When the preceding fails, and it will eventually, you have two remaining fallbacks. One is monastic Buddhism and the other is suicide. You could combine the two if you like, but focusing on Buddhism may force you out of the material universes so you no longer need to repeat the cycle of Birth/Taco Bel Trainee/Dead End Office Job/Impossible Entrepreneurship/Gigolo to the Elderly and Rich/ Death. Nothing is better than this.....At least open a window and enjoy the Sun, or Sunlamp...
There you can't be depressed after reading this- your life couldn't be 1/10 as rotten as mine. I want to insert a disclaimer here: If you don't want to know what I think about issues near and far DON'T READ THIS! This is not part of my resume, and is intended only for those who have a sense of humor and WOULD LIKE TO BE ENTERTAINED. If you have a weak stomach, go to Harry Potter dot com. Better yet stay away from that too. THOSE NOT INTERESTED NEED NOT RESPOND (Stan Laurel in "Going Bye Bye")
No one does anyway. If they only tracked my own visits, an appalling lack of interest in this site would nonetheless be evident. Tell your friends! Warn your enemies! Teach your children so they can avoid this kind of perdition! What can one write when the moon is in the 6th house.. everything feels like work, and gives you a a scratchy throat. We should be out there joining plumbing and washing the surface of the Earth, mopping the trees, polishing the stars, and still feeling guilty, because we are not working as hard as we did in our past incarnations as mentally feeble hospital staff. Unless I go to some job that forces me to wear clothes I would rather not own, act like a demi phoney for 8 plus hours and then go home and try to reduce the facial swelling from having a fake smile plastered on my lips by retreating into a primal cocoon of infantile cartoons... (STP just came on!! WOO! "And I feel at times a ways to go.. and I see that these are lives to come, so would you even care.. Where you going with the mask I found. I feel when the dogs begin to smell her (Faulkner) where she stands alone GREAT I complain alot so I will say that the best songs byt this band are GREAT!!!! ");"?> NEW SUBJECT- even if the lyrics are only close, some great lyrics are written with the poet him/herself only being subconsciously aware of some meanings. We can clear some things up for the writer.. and even if we are "wrong" it is an interesting lyrical Roarshock test.
I wish AOL's smashing pumpkins station would only play stuff from Gish, Siamese Dream, Mellon Collie, or P Iscariot. This Chief Executive Stalin of Music has spoken. Nothing wrong with a CES if they know what they are talking about, and I do with regard to music, Egyptology, literature, dinosaurs and a few other things, so stop squirming.
On to the title of this thing. If any of you are suffering from depression, before you rush off to be wrongly diagnosed and medicated, try these simple steps first, if you are not too hypomanic to accept advice. 1) Get out of the house. If you walk outside and it is an overcast winter horror land with angry banks of clouds shutting you off from the Sun God Ra for fortnights at time, then jump on a plane to California, or Florida, or Hawaii, and negotiate a lucrative contract with Anything at all Megainc, and make sure they give a door to your office and a nice window. You will be able to feel your brain drinking the nectar of the beautiful Sun as you become more content, creative and tolerant by the second. Bullies can spit in your mouth and stretch your bones like rubber, and you will giggle. By the end of the week you will have generated so many insanely wonderful ideas for your own business that you will be able to kick over you boss's desk and tweak his bulbous nose and cackle your way out into the windy liberation of free enterprise. When you come to terms with black reality in your weekly rented motel room, you won't care much. It will be peaceful and you will have 3000 channels to choose from. Find old newspapers with undated Domino's coupons and you can live like royalty on pizza and tap water for some time to come. Open the drapes at least once a week.
2) If getting you out of the house only lands you in another more disreputable house, then you must become an Internet Robber Barron. Simply stay in whatever squalor is now your natural state, and bask in the glory of the sunshine (You MUST live in a sunny place). If you have anything to sell, sell it on the Internet. Even if you are only able to sell vintage dust mites, it is a start. Become the finest, most reputable Dust Mite Vendor in the Multiverse. If you are so disgustingly untalented that you are unable to even sell allergens, then you might want to manufacture a talent to entertain the sagging unemployed masses of humanity that want to cling to impossible fragments of hope in the form of an overpriced high speed Internet connection that constitutes their sole piece of furniture, foist material possession, and dearest votive object. You can be writer for example. Even if you are a brachylocomoting orange haired misfit who flies into a rage when deprived of bananas, you can be a success. Just keep typing if everything else fails, you will run into an idea. You could modify Burrough's cutting techniche, and snip random words out of color circulars, toilet paper packages, summons, archived post it notes, knitting them together in stanza form and capitalizing as many words as possible, possibly even using an Olde English font, and given the size of the Internut (TM) and the sea of cranial capacities less than 1400 cc, you should be a billionaire in no time, without suffering anything more than acute callouses.
If the above ideas fail, and they assuredly will, you could always marry a sexy rich nymphomaniac who is slavishly devoted to you. You could try the trillionaire presonals, but that is really too pedestrian. Melt your material "wealth" into a glass of gold, and then buy a first class Sears suit or gown, and the hangout in the places that the Rich and Disturbed haunt. Psychiatrist offices are great places. If you have bit of fake brains you can use this is good, but not necessary. If you can hold a magazine right side up, you are in business. Don't talk- most people are egomaniacs and love to talk about themselves. Ask one question about them and they will tell you everything including bathroom habits. Smile ALOT, keep nodding your head no matter how insipidly the conversation drifts into art, exotic pets, or right/left wing politics. Focus on the attractiveness of the person, and you will be eating out of their hand in now time. NOTE: you may have to put up with nauseating inconveniences like cellulite, odd body hair, or rubbing imported lotions on their back, but you will have more loot that J Paul Giddy, so who cares.
When the preceding fails, and it will eventually, you have two remaining fallbacks. One is monastic Buddhism and the other is suicide. You could combine the two if you like, but focusing on Buddhism may force you out of the material universes so you no longer need to repeat the cycle of Birth/Taco Bel Trainee/Dead End Office Job/Impossible Entrepreneurship/Gigolo to the Elderly and Rich/ Death. Nothing is better than this.....At least open a window and enjoy the Sun, or Sunlamp...
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