New Technique, Update, Confession

I invented a new way to clear out mental chatter and simplify your understanding of your current situation and find some stillness and peace in your present situation! Here goes:

Take whatever you are doing, and make a headline out of it. Make it the most concise, succinct and short headline you possibly can.
Man Sits at Computer Typing
Man Sits in Chair Thinking About Breathing
Man Drives Car

Even though these aren't newsy items, phrase em in the form of a headline and see how you do!

...and don't be addin shit...like...
Man Explains Idea to Friends and Worries They'll Think It's Stupid

-----------------------------------------all that and more-----------------------------------------

Today I was involved in an effort with others which could be classified with today's popular terminology: 'a friggin cluster'

I realized that everyone involved was...like...three hundred yards away, trying to hit a little square on a moving calendar with a bb gun in high wind...while high, in the back of a speeding pickup truck driven by somebody who was...high.

-----------------------------------------and no less important-----------------------------------------

I have had two balloons hovering over my desk for weeks, one from my birthday and one from my anniversary at my dungeon. I decided it was time to get rid of them. My neighbor asked if I wanted to borrow her scissors. She's the type who would stab balloons to death. I said, "Nah, instead of stabbing them to death, I'm going to set them free." On my way out, I did. I watched them for a while and thought about how cool I was for doing this....the balloons got more and more height, and a good breeze really carried them. Then, in another part of the sky, I saw a jet airliner. It was nowhere near the balloons, but I thought to myself, dammit, what if a balloon got caught in the intake of one of those jet engines, holy shit. So I'm not as cool as I initially thought. How about you?


Red Eyes

When they're squeezing on you from every direction, there is no direction for your guts to ooze out! Time to 'disappear' (with ironic single quotes) and let all the forces pushing in on me slam into each other, let em glimpse each other's grim faces as they collide and bloody their noses on their own hard heads...or something...this is all very dramatic and heavy, I know, but this is how the feelings feel sometimes - at 4:17 am - when the thoughts won't stop chasing and jumping up on the truck and weighing my ass end down so bad that the wheels drag on the wells. Time once again to lighten up and liven up myself. Lighter than a ghost. I mean: I will be there. I'll be there, but I won't, but I will - more so even. Is there a way where I can evaporate even more? And every so often, when the forecast calls for it, I'll rain down lightly just about everywhere in this listening area? And then I'll gather underground for about thirty thousand years and come up through a spring. As far as the cycle of life for water, it's probably better to wait it out thirty thousand years underground and come up as a spring than to keep hanging around like a fog - - but even that is stupid. With all the 'worthy' matches of wits and all the times I was wrong versus when they were wrong and everybody talking over everybody and all the other noise...the real advances aren't being made where most people think they are. And the thing is, under some filtering, everybody knows this and just about everything else too if they'd lubricate their peepers.



You name it, I got room for it. I'm saying yes because saying no sucks. Too many tunes to mention. Too much tech to document. Too many cravings to ignore constantly all the time always except for the rare times I succumb. This dumb blog sittin out here. It won't quit. It's all mouse clicks and gear shifts; stop recording and press send submit and execute - and guess who cares: nobody, least of all me. The song names in that playlist once again are:

Laughing at the Goofballs and then They Get Serious
Feathery ForceField
Scary News from Back Home
Sanity Vice Grip in the Looney Bin Metal Shop
Exactly the Right Amount of Sleep