this blog will end soon.
deducing a need to realize induction.
If you don’t have one thing, Then you May have any thing that is other than that which you don’t have. — *May: absolutely Do (adjective denoting verb) have capacity for having ______ .
I have no problem with the use of those words which elaborate on, and allude to, shades of, offshoots of, happiness. And so I’ll describe my thus-far journey in my seat, on the train, as Wonderful. I’ve de-seated myself several times, for the washroom once, for my bag in the storage compartment, more than once, for my laptop, for my notes to be put away, for my earphones to come out...
I’m back on a familiar porch, riddled and knotted as it is in memory. Toxic in its remittance of questions ending in insufficient sighs. What will you do? And there’s no Samuel Jackson about this place, no Robert Duvall from Get Low - but closer, I’ll admit, to the latter. I’ve got a cigarette between my fingers as I’m typing this, using my middle finger as my index...
I’m stirring in a hangover from the night last, thinking on the couch about an axe I just bought and the animal[istic] splitting I did with it. It’s a damn sexy axe, with its black, carbon fibre - hollow - handle and shaft, and a deep charcoal blade. I raised it over my t-shirt - head and felt the happy weight in my shoulders, all taught and poised. With a human’s roar, I throw...
Like a blossom of mirth, a varnished token of good will knocks into bark as it tumbles down from a local canopy. A chorus of children’s laughter - because it makes me happiest. A weeping willow and its light green swath. Rhythmic dancing beyond the shimmering leaves, o’ way up high - by windy invite, only. The tugging thread-tangles at t-shirt’s sleeve, o’ grassy blades,...
Reading about Vicious Gay-Pride Beatings in...
I cannot propose we exhibit alone our sexual, political, or ideological diversities - as a means to grow a safe environment for them. I propose a culling of the ignorant and unwilling. They are the exact opposite of diverse, the exact opposite of progress, the exact opposite of all betterment, even unto their selves. Fuck em.
Birdy - Shelter
I know that what comes next is something I’ve seen before. I do not know what comes. I know I haven’t seen much that wasn’t overwhelmingly useful. I know it like that growing knot underneath a tendon. That tenuous aching that what comes is crucial.
Language & Neon
It was a fun time to live. When? Right now.
Be kind. For I am a boy in a man’s thoughts.
Terroni's on Queen West.
Over dinner: Here’s the thing. Want is the mother of misery, right? And there Was happiness in the Hobbesian state, only, it was had by few instead of many. Alternative living was conceived, which was to create New Want. The new want is dependant on a Usage, and the Usage facilitates the Fulfillment - and the completion of that cycle is happiness. There was an onus on what Can be done, and...
You must watch the opening scene from Candy. with... →
A great omniscient spool in the stratosphere is unwinding over Ontario, today. Looks like a wick of clouds began to pour out its burden, to clarify, for our eyes, the sweetness of colours. Young men will sit just inside from it, at vacant dining room tables. Listening. The life it gives to the brown, wooden deck and chairs is superb. Here the oily sky dabs at, and tongues off, the residues of...
I wish the dreams would stop.
You gave me your number but I was preoccupied with other versions of you. I saw some kind of equestrian, the other day. Between that park bench with the rickety this and the wobbly that, and my own head full of thinking. I never sat long enough to nail the end of your yellow spring dress down to the ply by my side. Radical smudges of noses and cheeks into bed sheets, waiting for you to call me....
I had an argument with my Dad, over dinner, about heaven. He couldn’t sum up enough patience, so he said — So, you hope there is no heaven and that nothing happens after? To which I could only say, I don’t hope for anything - I just know what is for sure. You know what’s beyond the sky? Space.
Come home and tell me about an idea. Tell me something new, please. Have a light tucked beneath your teary pockets, so as to look excited. Tell me the world is in fact rhombus. You know? Be long and fine and whimsical, like a ribbon. You fucking stumpy motherfucker.
Someone taught you
Someone taught you to take a specific kind of pleasure. Right? They told you in their veins, they said, I enjoy the Power. And you knew the deep teal fear, fluorescent and angular. How much purity can go into any one emotion? Apparently 99.99% can be managed in Fear. Licking the fingers of weaponized honour you were raised up from the wayside and suddenly you were grave in nature. “I...
strained and inhaling
There you are in your favourite leather chair. You’re half aware of things today, decidedly smoking a cigarette. (You know I love cigarettes.) And your blazer hangs at angles to the sides. Knee bent, one leg lanky by the heel on the floor. You’re fingering a skull and turning it over in your hand, Who are you, Macbeth? - and I point my face to the left of you while leaving my eyes to...
we don’t know what happened. A blackness was seen, and fists were thrown before a tongue could form the words needed. Nothing was meant but destruction, and, so, there was nothing But destruction. Even in the Self. Fire couldn’t ooze - until vulgarity was spewed. And all the hues - like pits of black - they seeped from flexed knuckles and the knotted murder in the eye. Fuel for that...
speaking plainly is good for you.
Stop and wonder if there’s such a thing as bad and good. What you won’t do and what you will do. Stop and consider consideration. Like the that-you-could-be-wrong. And give it out, too. Was it wrong? Or was it just not the correct direction, based on something else, something you’re not considering. Consider the consideration that you might not consider what you don’t...
“Hey man, I didn’t know you were leaving. Stay for a smoke first, would’ya?”
i ain't dead yet.
Last night was nothing. We sat smoking in worn out leather chairs like the low-ceiling, after-market ambience itself. Someone’s tie was loose. And the other guy, with an effort, could stand. Grey and off-grey mushroom clouds blew out of our mouths, all burnt. Our shoulders in suits watched over like ridges, in our near-circle. Everyone pouring their cindering bodies into the centre. From...
Love’s like a flashbang inside your chest. Your heart just reels.