Bitching about that movie, Frozen.

WARNING!

LOTS AND LOTS OF BITCHING ABOUT THAT MOVIE, FROZEN.

You know that movie, Frozen? I have several problems with that movie... that is, besides that big fat Swedish meatball who runs the Wandering Oaken trading post being such a greedy, two faced prick (I've already gone on and on at arms length about that). And what the heck is a wandering oaken, anyway? That just makes zero sense for the name of a trading post that's permanently attached to the side of a mountain.

Don't get me wrong. It may seem like I'm hating on Frozen, but I'm not, really. In fact, I'm pretty much hopelessly in love with that movie. I've watched it exactly thirteen-and-a-half-dozen-and-a-half times, not counting the eleventy-seven-and-sixteen-fifteenths times that I've left it playing in the background on my days off to keep me company so that I don't die of chronic aloneness. I just have a bunch of nitpicks with it, that's all. Like I do with everything I love.

Ok, onward with the nitpicking!

Firstly, what's the story with that Christoph kid? Is he an apprentice ice miner? Does he have parents? Is he an orphan? Is he homeless? Is he just a nosy brat who follows you around, always asking questions and irritating the heck out of everybody? The ice miners sure don't seem to give a crap about him. I mean, here's this little boy, scampering around among hardened ice miners who are constantly singing about what a dangerous job ice mining is, and nobody says anything about the little kid. Weird!

Speaking of little kids... way back when, before Elsa grew up and became a neurotic bitch, she and Anna used to have fun playing with her snow powers inside the castle. Remember when they were playing, and Elsa was magickng those piles of snow, each one taller than the previous one, to catch Anna as she jumped from one to the other while screaming "Catch me!"? You could just see it coming, the fact that Elsa was only a couple of catch me's away from screwing up royally (no pun intended). My question is, why didn't Elsa just start poofing up some smaller snow mounds for Anna to jump onto? Why did she keep making them BIGGER and BIGGER? That was just dumb, Elsa.

So then Elsa slips on HER OWN ICE (come on, really?) and hits Anna right in the forehead with an ice dart! If she'd just started making smaller snow mounds, that never would have happened... anyway. King and queen anonymous freak out, and after thumbing through a book which shows an illustration of a positively evil looking troll waving it's hands and magicking over a royally garbed figure laid out prone and helpless on a stone slab like the Aztecs would put you on before ripping out your still beating heart, the king decides that these nightmare creatures are the only hope for his daughter. So, he gathers up the entire fam and makes for Troll Country, post haste.

What's the real deal with those things, really? Those rock trolls? They're definitely not carbon based life forms. Their organic chemistry is most likely based on long chain silicon molecules, what with them being basically a coven of walking, talking rocks. I won't go into the details as to why, but you can trust me when I tell you that silicon based life forms would have a much tougher time trying to stick it in an earth-like environment than carbon based life forms. In fact, silicon life would get along MUCH better in a far colder environment. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Hey, I ain't pointing fingers, I'm just sayin'. Food for thought.

Pretty much right off the bat it's established that these stone trolls are the 'good guys', for curing Anna. That elder troll sure went out of his way to scare the shit out of Elsa though, didn't he? Do you think the elder troll considered the possible consequences of showing little girl Elsa that vision in the sky of her own blood red powers attacking from every direction and stabbing her into oblivion? Didn't scaring the crap out of her like that just wind up making things worse, in the long run? It pretty much guaranteed that Elsa would constantly be scared shitless of her own nature all the time during her formative years. That's a recipe for an evil ice queen if I ever saw one. Kinda makes you wonder about those trolls, huh? Hey, just sayin'!

Ok, let's give the trolls the benefit of the doubt for a second. Maybe that's how trolls raise their little troll kids, by scaring the shit out of them, and it's perfectly normal for them. Maybe it was a well intended but tragic blunder between two alien life forms attempting to communicate with each other. Maybe rock trolls are just stupid... like, a bag of rocks stupid, and they thought that Elsa was just another rock to be yelled at. Maybe. Right? But if rock trolls are just a pack of idiots with good intentions, then why exactly did the troll elder throw in that memory wipe for Anna? Huh? Riddle me that. The king seemed to think it was 'for the best', but all it did was confuse the hell out of a little girl, leaving her with no idea as to why her big sister, who used to be 'her best buddy', suddenly just up and started hating her. Think about it. The entire situation is just completely ef'd up. It's no wonder that one of those little girls grew up to be a paranoid, cast iron bitch, and the other one so desperate for love, any kind of love, that she'd understand the meaning of true love to be simply a furtive glance in her direction. See what I'm saying about those dirty silicon based life forms? That's some seriously devious future planning of the unstupid variety, you know. Those stone trolls are pretty damn shady, if you ask me.

Oh, no wait! Don't forget about that one troll who basically kidnaps Christoph when he's just a five year old kid. "I'm gonna keep you," says the troll woman to the little boy and his moose puppy. WTF, man? Even if Christoph was an orphan, that troll couldn't have known that. Creepy! Am I right?

Ok, enough with the trolls for now.

Here's a perplexing conundrum. Why don't Elsa's hands freeze her gloves when she's wearing them? Everything else she touches freezes pretty much instantly, so why don't her gloves freeze too? Those manacles they clapped onto her hands sure froze though, didn't they? SO WHY DON'T HER GLOVES FREEZE? Could the reason be that the whole touchy-freezy thing is all in her head? A neurotic condition, stemming from a traumatic childhood experience? Manipulated by those dirty, filthy trolls, that is?

Oh boy. This next nitpick is a doozy. It really is the only completely unforgivable nitpick that I have. Why is it unforgivable? Because it's not a plot hole, or a character flaw, or anything like that. NO! This is simply sloppy song writing. Stupid sloppy song writing. Stupid sloppy song writing that borders on obscene ignorance, which borders on obscene arrogance. Allow me to elucidate.

You know that part where Queen Elsa just fucks right off to the hills after her disastrous coming out party? Remember how she finally embraces her womanhood and transforms from a stupid fraidy cat little girl into this sexy, sexy ice queen? And how she conjured this totally awesome palace made out of ice onto the most coldest top part of the North Mountain? And how she lyrically referred to a snowflake as a fractal? Remember that? Remember how STUPID that was? Didn't you just wanna reach out into the ether and slap the shit out of whoever it was who wrote that part of the lyrics? I'm talking about the 'Let It Go' song. You know -

'Frozen fractals all around'

- that part. I'm terribly, grievously sorry, but there's just no possible way, without invoking a couple of generations of math wizards into the storyline, that Queen Elsa would have been even remotely aware of the fractal nature of a snowflakes structure. Hell, the basic concept of a fractal would have been completely lost to her primitive, medieval brain! It's simply unforgivably sloppy on the part of the writer who came up with that stupid, stupid lyric. Shame on you, whoever you are, you lazy lazy song writer who made that fractal crap into impossible song lyrics!

Some more nitpicks.

Why does Christophs animal powered sled explode when it crashes, and why does Sven the Moose act like a retarded dog all the time? And why does Elsa, who is supposedly all about protecting Anna, magick an evil snow monster into existence that totally wants to kill her? Oh yeah, and Elsa does this monster magick immediately after shooting a poison ice dart directly into Anna's heart. WHY? I've tried to justify Elsa's constant, seemingly unintentional abuse of her sister, and I can only think of one reason that really works. Elsa is just a stupid, stupid girl. Not a bad girl... just stupid.

Now back to those filthy, dirty trolls. No, I ain't done with them yet.

Those stone trolls sure sing a good story about love, while simultaneously trying their damndest to force Christoph and Anna into getting married. Hell, they try even harder after learning that Anna is already engaged to someone else! Plus, there's that little troll kid who says, "and by the way, I don't see no ring." That kid is just obnoxious! Who taught that little shit that it's ok to steal another man's woman, just because she's not wearing an engagement ring? Huh? Maybe she took it off to do the dishes! Maybe she wears it on a chain like a necklace! Maybe she lost it, and desperately hopes to find it again! Maybe he just hasn't given it to her yet! Oh, man, that pisses me off when somebody actively tries to steal another guy's girl away from him, and uses that lack of a visible ring thing as justification. That makes me wanna be violent!

Anyway, what was I talking about... Oh yeah, those little troll bastards. So, do you really think that any of those petrified horse apples really gives one flip about true love, based on what we know about them now? I don't think so. They just want to marry off Christoph to a princess as quickly as possible, in order to gain some political power. See? They're bastards. I'm not pointing fingers! I'm just sayin'. Those trolls are a pack of genuine, bona-fide bastards.

Ok, just a couple more...

So, if all Anna needs is an act of true love to thaw her frozen heart, then she should have been cured the moment Olaf began to melt after building a fire for her, and then refusing to leave her side. Because if that ain't true love, then I don't know what is. Plus, Olaf flat out tells Anna that he loves her when they all first arrive at the troll clearing.

ALSO... It's clearly spelled Weselton, but everybody calls it weasel town anyway. No wonder the ambassador of Weselton is such a bitter old man.

Whew! I'm glad all that's off my chest.

Retards

I have a serious problem, as should any reasonable, thinking being, with this particular command:

Clean off your desk!

You know, it really should be clean ON your desk instead of clean OFF your desk, since the word 'OFF' kinda means 'away from', suggesting to the irrational mind that cleaning should occur away from your desk. I know exactly what you're thinking, so please bear with me, because my point is vitally important.

For instance... say you were obligated to give a retarded kid a piggyback ride, because of for whatever or something. You'd use this sentence structure to communicate with the retard:

verb, preposition, pronoun, noun

It's the exact same sentence structure used in the original statement under critical examination here:

Clean off your desk

But in this case, it would be:

Climb on my back

Now, since retards are mentally skittish to begin with and easily confused and are all lacking any real understanding regarding the nuance of natural language, it's critical that you should convey your meaning to one as simply and literally as possible, so as to avoid eliciting a short circuit - or a brain burn, as it's referred to clinically - inside the thick, insulated skull casings which house the coagulated brain mush which clumsily controls the primary retarded functioning of the retard, such as inhaling, excreting, swallowing, screaming incoherently, drooling, and going flat out apeshit.

You see, saying 'clean off your desk' as a suggestion for the actual cleaning up of the surface of a desk is the exact same thing as saying 'get off my back' to a retard that's expecting a piggyback ride. The incongruence instantly triggers apeshit mode, as retards are too stupid to understand anything but the simplest, most literal of communicationing.

The brain of the common retard is comparable to the big, clunky mechanical calculators of the early 20th century... loud, slow, inefficient, extremely limited in functionality, prone to overheating and routinely resulting in grotesque error and mechanical breakdown, and defaulting automatically into apeshit mode at the slightest provocation.

Now, if you were to say to a full on, modern day retard -

'Clean off your desk'

- that retard would immediately default to apeshit mode and would begin an energetic and completely retarded attempt to clean everything in the room BUT the desk. And by CLEAN, I mean DESTROY COMPLETELY, according to the clunky brain hammerings of the total retard which has just been commanded to clean everything except for something while operating as full on retard going apeshit in full on apeshit mode.  Obviously, the results would be devastating.

Since it's impossible to calculate with any certainties whether or not the person or persons standing in front of you, or anyone within earshot who may be receiving your omnidirectional cleaning suggestions for that matter, is or are fully retarded, it is therefore vital to broadcast these communications clearly, simply, and literally, especially when you're posting them online indiscriminately to millions of potential full-on retards. A careless command to 'lick clean a dirty ashtray' could initiate a full scale retard apocalypse, and that would spell the end for all of us... the retards included.

And that would just be a shame.

So, have a care when speaking aloud or typing loudly, wherever you are. You never know when a full blown retard might be in range. The future of the Earth, the survival of our species, blah blah blah.

I hate that Wandering Oaken Trading Post guy.

Some may find my negative critique of the Wandering Oakens Trading Post to be unwarranted.

After all, when Princess Anna's horse bolted and left her to freeze to death just south of the North Mountain, I must admit that the warmth of the Wandering Oakens Trading Post did just happen to save Princess Anna from freezing to death in the middle of a completely unexpected eternal winter. Still...

Still, can we please expect store proprietors to not be greedy assholes? And if not just normally and as a matter of course, then especially inside special circumstances, such as eternal winters? That's a special circumstance, right? The eternal winter thing?

I think that the actions of that Swedish Meatball guy totally speak for him, by throwing Christof out into the Eternal Winter to die. And for what? For calling out that Swiss Cheeser for what he is... a greasy, greedy bastard crook, who values his winter stock over human life? Yup! Exactly for that!

Screw that guy, that Swedish Meatball proprietor guy, with the jar of fish heads! Like giving those away to witnesses of attempted murder is supposed to make it  ok!

That guy is as psychopath, that Wandering Oaken Swedish Meatball guy. I hate that guy.

New words

WHOOPS

Some more brand new words I invented..

spizzle - the shiny little drops of alka seltzer that spit up out of the cup and onto your tablet screen.

moonatic - a lunatic.

threebie - when you get three things for free, all at the same time.

And I also invented a new DEFINITION.

idiot savant - an unfettered moron.

Princess Leia, my first crush

"Take your broken heart, make it into art." - Princess Leia

Threebie

WHOOPS

I've just gone and done invented another word.

threebie: when you get three things for free, all at the same time.

You're welcome.

WHOOPS

This time I invented a new DEFINITION.

BEHOLD...

idiot savant - an unfettered moron.

The saddest song EVAR

I just wrote the most saddest song ever wrote, EVER!
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Forever Autumn
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The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter wind will be much colder
Cause you're not here
And you took the beer.

I watch the beers fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them
Cause you're not here
And you took the beer.

Like a beer through the trees you came to beer me
Like a beer on a breeze you blew a-WAY-YAY-YAY-eeYAY-a-YAAAAAaaay...

Through autumns golden beers we used to drink our way
I always loved that kind of beer
Those empty beers like undisturbed now
Cause you're not here
And you took the beer.

Like a beer through the trees you came to beer me
Like a beer on a breeze you blew a-WAY-YAY-YAY-eeYAY-a-YAAAAAaaay...

Through autumns golden beers we used to drink our way
I always loved that kind of beer
My life will be forever autumn
Cause you're not here and you took the beer
Cause you're not heeeere and you took the beer...
Cause you're not here and you took the beer!

Insomniack

Insomniack
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I just wanna be left alone, mostly. I can't remember if that's how I started out, or did the idea of it grow on me, like a fungus?

When you're awake for a long long long time, you start to change inside of the moment. To shift. The what it is that's you, or in my case, me, shunts over a little to the left and backward one notch. Then I get to view the happenings of the world around me from that unique position. It's a strange and weirdly thing.

It's a massive shift in the way I experience things, but it doesn't really affect my outward appearance or mannerisms that much. I seem slower and stupider, is all... but to me, it's imminently more stranger.

I can't explain what it feels like, to have your mode shifted from normal to weird, just because of being awake and awake and awake. It's like you've become an alternate you. Or that I've become an alternate me. It's one of those had to have been there things, I guess.

A lot of the time, when I can sleep like a normal person, a normal person, then, when I'm all slept out, I really, really, want to sleep, sleep, some more. The idea of getting up and having to be awake seems like this heavy, heavy thing. The idea of simple consciousness feels like a lead blanket. Like those poor, hell-bent figures from Dante's Inferno, who had to wear those heavy cloaks that were lined with gold ingots, while they walked endlessly through hell.

I fascinate myself, that I feel this way. What the heck happened to me that made a normal awakening from sleep seem like a normal awakening into hell? It wasn't always this way, and that makes the phenomenon of it supremely interesting to me. Surprising, even... to the me of the insomniacks, that is. To the regular me, having to be inside of that moment is horrible.

See what I mean, about the you that gets shifted over, and sees things differently? Mostly tragic things, and interestedly as opposed to horrifyingly? See? See what I mean? I'm looking California, and feeling Minnesota. Get it?

You wanna know what's ironic? Back when I was a normal human... I used to think, as I was about to go to sleep, with my head on my pillow, and all covered up and comfy, I used to think, all the time, I used to think this, as I was falling asleep:

'What if I didn't go to sleep, but instead I just kept thinking over and over... what if I just can't go to sleep?' And then I'd fall asleep. And every night, as I thought of the possibility of - the what if - of not being able to sleep, I'd fall asleep. And then one day the what if came true. It's exactly like an impossible monster made real. The boogey man actually came true. Can you believe that shit? Well, the boogey man may be a metaphor, but he definitely came true for me, and it still seems just as impossible.

And oh man, is it ever just as horrible as I ever imagined.

Organic Chemicals

Tonight I had an epiphany. I was at Kroger, just kind of hanging around inside with a shopping basket and waiting for 2:30 for my paycheck to hit, so that I could buy some food.

Finally 2:30 happened and I loaded up that basket, lemme tell you. Then, just before I went to the self-checkout, I followed a wild hair and logged onto Wells Fargo to check my balance, and fuck me blind, my balance was $9.00. I'd plum flat out forgotten that I'd missed a week of work.

That's when I had the epiphany. I'm a worthless sack of organic chemicals. Just one out of billions. Made out of common ingredients, and worthless. I can see it clearly, in math, surprisingly. The motion of my individual pattern, which calculates my existence on the fly, is an equation which never balances.

I'm like dark matter, and dark energy. A hungry gravity well that's never accounted for. I'm not even worthless... I'm negative worth. A warped piece of life that pulls anything of value into my infinitely dense singularity of shit... and say goodbye to it if you have time, because once I have it, it's crushed, and consumed, and thrown onto the negative side of the equation forever, and loudly.

Anybody who knows me knows that I post what I'm thinking when I'm thinking it. I think I mostly post the truth of the moment. I try not to lie. There's nothing anybody can say that would convince me otherwise of the truth of this epiphany. That is, assuming anybody wanted to. That's a great assumption.

Here it is. Behold, my sorry sorry drama, finally revealed, like chicken bones with all of the flesh boiled off and mechanically separated.

There is a bright side to this, you know. I'm way too chicken-shit to kill myself, plus I get way too big of a kick out of myself to cancel my favorite program. Plus I have a really shitty memory, and I'll probably forget that I even posted this. Seriously.

My sky, my moon.

I got off work at about 10:18, and all day since about 5:30 I'd been itching and scratching to get away from there so I could go walking and listen to Bette Davis Eyes properly, with my headphones.

Ever since I posted that long griping rant about vocal fry I've been thinking about that song, and today at work, at about 5:00, I had the presence of mind to download an mp3 of it from YouTube. Listening to it on my little teensy crappity phone speaker at work just wasn't an option, and I didn't want to put on my headphones because I didn't want to have to be at work when I finally listened to that song that I haven't heard properly for ten years, so I had to wait.

When I'd finally gotten home, my phone battery was at 35%, so I had to power it down and let it charge for half an hour so that I wouldn't have to worry about that when I finally cast off my moorings and released the rigging. Then I was out the door and on my way, and I got to listen to my song properly. Walking east, I had just gotten to the top of that hill where Scripture meets Bryan. The song was just about to end, and I was right smack dab in the middle of a deep feeling of satisfaction, when suddenly and with zero warning my right ankle (the not-injured one) went:

fa-SCHRITHP-FLUMP-lithck-KRUMP-pthhbbthbthbpt.

One second I was mid-step and ankle down and about as content as I ever get inside of a single moment, and the next I'd crumpled like a rag doll and was rolling off of the sidewalk and into the street. Like RoboCop, in that scene where he was running wild through the rice paddies and they had to switch him off from the control room. That's exactly what it was like. 

You know, it truly is a fairly remarkable experience when you all of a sudden just go ass-over-teakettle. It's a shocking transition. Imagine it like this - you're some poor redshirt on the Enterprise. You've finally finished your shift and you're relaxing in the sonic shower, when right in the middle of a wide open, contented yawn, suddenly - GENERAL QUARTERS RED ALERT KLAXONS FLASHING RED LIGHTS AND... BOOM CRRUUUMP FWOOM! A KLINGON TORPEDO HAS JUST RIPPED A HOLE IN THE STARBOARD BULKHEAD AND RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR CONTENTED YAWN AND STRETCH YOU'VE BEEN SUCKED STARK NAKED FROM YOUR SHOWER AND CAST TUMBLING LIMBS AKIMBO INTO THE VACUUM OF OUTER SPACE!

That's what it's like, every time. Just like that.

Right before I came to a rolling stop in the middle of the street, I caught a glimpse, straight down the road, of a pair of headlights coming toward me. Then I was flat on my back and ready to start cussing up a storm, for two reasons -

1. I'd just went ass-over-teakettle,

and

2. I was possibly just about to get runned over, again.

But I wound up on my back, like I said, and my vision naturally went straight up, and when it did, and before any utterance could escape from my throat, I saw the sky, spread out up there above me, the obscene presence of it, right there in my face, so unexpected, so unlooked for, like a hard slap, like an insult even, in that it was such a surprise to see it. Like a happy birthday surprise. That kind of an insult. The kind that scares you and pisses you off just for a second, until you realize what it is. And the moon was right there, just right there, dead center, and glowing its silly ass off, directly above me. It was like the punchline to that little tumble I'd just taken. The big white round shiny ass of the moon, mooning me as I lay there in the big ass middle of the street, with the headlights coming up.

I sorta kinda noticed the headlights shift over and inch by, and after a second or two they sped away and left me alone there, in the middle of the street, with my sky and my moon.

I twisted my umpteenth ankle.

It's 12:55 AM and I'm sitting here in the grass on the west side of Bonnie Brae, right there where it joins with Old Bonnie Brae, exactly at McKenna Park, where that big fat water tank sits on top of that hill.

I blame this on the lack of proper sidewalks in Denton. If there'd have been a proper sidewalk going around that corner, where Bonnie Brae curves at Oak St., then I wouldn't have had to walk in the field to the west to not get runned over by traffic coming around the blind curve.

Instead, I stepped into a mudhole at 12:45 AM and twisted the crap out of my ankle. The left one, this time. Now both of my ankles have been wrecked. GREAT. It's 1:02 AM now, and I'm just about to the point of thinking that maybe I can stand up.

DAMMIT, twisting an ankle SUCKS. And to top it off, I get to sit here, just almost near some brambly wildness, with sniffing and clawing at the turf sounds happening just over thataway a ways. GREAT. I'm an injured animal.

Ok I'ma try to get up now without screaming like a little girl.

WTF, MAN!!!

Geez! I mean, WTF! DAYUM, THAT WASN'T NICE AT ALL!

Ok.

Now that I'm calm, allow me elucidate.

On W. Windsor, right there at the rec center, near all of those baseball fields and frisbee golfs and that one model airplane field, I think all of it is collectively called Northlake, or North Lakes Park, or whatev, anyway, right there where the rec center is, you know, that gym for working out and learning karate, right there, the sidewalk on the south side of Windsor ends, and if you wanna keep on the sidewalk, you gotta cross over Windsor to the north side, where the sidewalk picks up again.

With me so far?

The thing is, I think that pretty much everywhere, as in at every intersection in every city, they've started making these crosswalk signals that talk. You know, the ones where you press the button and it shouts WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! and then it shoots a machine gun to tell you when it's safe to cross the street. I ain't kidding, for those of you who might not be familiar with current streetlight crosswalk etiquette. I'm not even trying to be funny, because that's what really happens. The crosswalk thingy shouts WAIT and then shoots a machine gun when it's safe to cross. Look it up on YouTube.

I'm assuming now that everybody knows about those militant crosswalk signals, and if you didn't, then now you do, so that's just some backstory to warm up the frontstory.

Onward.

Right there where I was talking about wallago there's a brand new talking crosswalk. It's not an intersection for traffic, it's just where the sidewalk moves from here to there, to designate the official place from which to move from here to there, like I already explained.

I didn't notice it at first, since I'm so used to walking this route, but as I passed by it, I heard this subtle blip sound that was louder then softer then louder then softer etc. No way could I just keep walking without investigating that thing, so I followed the louder blip and discovered it emanating from that brand new crosswalk thingy, and the softer blip was coming from the one on the other side of the street.

Well, of course, there's buttons on those things, and, of course, they want you to push those buttons. So, conditioned as I am, like a slobbering Pavlov thing, I pushed that button... and it was like that part in every movie you've ever seen where they trip the alarm! On both sides of the street, bright yellow lights - like ambulance lights, or emergency lights, or OH SHIT lights - suddenly lit up and started flashing, like the nukes were about to show up! And this loud machine voice began yelling at the top of its speakers...

YELLOW LIGHTS ARE FLASHING! YELLOW LIGHTS ARE FLASHING! YELLOW LIGHTS ARE FLASHING!

I tell you, it scared me shitless! I thought I was under arrest by the sidewalk police! Man, I just ran like a dumb blinded thingamajig for a few seconds!

After that I just kinda stood still for a minute, processing the event which had just happened. And... man, it started to piss me off! Who's idea was that anyway, to install the equivalent of a blinding flashing yellow strobe light shouting at 120 decibels on a pedestrian crosswalk? Who was it that thought this up as a good thing to implement? And who was it that reviewed this idea and decided, 'Yeah, this is a good idea, let's make it a real thing!' ???

I WANNA KNOW WHO THESE PEOPLE ARE BECAUSE I WANNA LOOK DAGGERS AT THEM! ALL OF THEM!

Or did any of that even occur at all, with the officially sanctioned insanity invented by the official professional civil engineer and presented as an officially good idea to the officials in charge and then officially built into a real, official thing? Because maybe the city council just gave this job to what's his face the civil engineers son, because they'd SO promised him that they totally, seriously loved retarded kids, and weren't prejudiced at all, and that retarded kids should be involved in city planning projects because it's politically correct? So maybe that's what actually happened?

WTF, MAN!!!

Brain format

I was thinking tonight about how there should be a C:\ format for your brain, but with an option to set aside a D:\ partition for YOU. You know, all of the little things that define your personality, so that you don't have to start over from scratch with a generic operating system.

Formatting drive C would be analogous to deleting all of the malware accumulated over a lifetime, like addictions and bad habits and prejudices, and the drive D partition would sequester everything about you that makes you an individual. Kinda like rebooting to three years old, but with all of your memories and natural developmental devices intact, such as language and coordination and basic social rules and the like.

Imagine waking up from a drive C format. You'd still be you, with all of your memories, but every single one of the neuron patterns that used to define complex habitual and learned behavior would be scraped away. Like cleaning the scuzz off of a years dirty car window, or painting over a bleached section of the wall that's only ever been exposed to the relentless assault of sunlight through that one window for the past several decades.

Since you'd have all of your memories, you'd know beforehand what to avoid and what to embrace. You'd have a heads up on what things are good for you and what things will fuck you up. You'd be able to continue your life after the pause with your self awareness purged of all of the toxic information that you'd been forced to incorporate into the description of your previous self.

I mean, put very simply, your brain is just the wetware for processing the organic operating system of your personality. Like a hard drive with Windows. It's a cogent analogy, you know? It oughta be possible in theory, anyway... all that stuff I just went on about.

Honestly, I'm just bored and don't want to sleep yet, so I went and contrived this thing to write about because it takes my mind off of stuff. I can't think of anything else to do.

Marveling mood

A couple of years ago I was walking around after dark. I was in this marveling mood, just looking at everything like it was brand new and never seen before.

I'm telling this because I'm at the same place now that I was a couple of years ago, when I was in that marveling mood.

I came to an intersection in a residential neighborhood. Just stop signs, no street lights, so it was quiet and dark enough that I could indulge my urge to linger in the shadows.

It was an intersection, like I said, with four corners and four houses, with a yard in each corner. It was the northeast corner yard, a front yard, that captured my attention.

It was like a miniature landscape with all of the normal small things that you'd recognize, but being there and looking at all of it shifted my perspective so that everything became scaled up to an immensity, as if for a tiny awareness which dwelt there.

There was a tree, with gnarly roots that went in and out of the ground, and if you looked closely, it was like terrain. Like a jagged row of miniature cliffs were held up by those roots, with intricate structures within and without, forming a system of runnels and rivulets that followed the growth of the lesser root branches, and those branches were like river valleys that sloped up as hills onto fertile banks that gave way to fresh ground where a forest of grass and flowers and weeds grew amongst the tiny detritus of loamy, broken off, almost dried things that you'd find at the base of a well established, well aged tree. Broken acorn boulders and volumes of bark shards and immense sheltering canopies of mushrooms that grew as huddled masses against the root slopes, forming natural front porches for a community of root dwellers.

Once I'd realized all of that, I really began to sink into the unreality of it. I stared and stared at that complex of roots and the associated structures, and the grass and flower forests, and it felt like, it felt to me like I had shrunk down to the size of an ant, and that I was there, inside that miniature environment, which had become full size to me. So much detail that I'd never noticed before became real, real, real. Like the Antman movie, but this was years before that movie. It's a good comparison though.

While I was down there inside of it, immersed in the unreality of it, I felt this unspeakable longing. This unendurable melancholy. This comfortable grief which was the structure of this miniature universe, and all things here were built upon that grief and imbedded in it, just like the planet earth is imbedded in the spacetime of our universe, with all that we know being built up naturally from that. It was a tiny universe, and sadness was the fabric of reality. But it was oh so comfortable, and I longed to stay there, forever.

I can describe the experience, but I'll never know if my description is enough, because I'll never really be able to know if you've felt these same feelings. This weird, strange, alien feeling of longing inside of an infinite matrix of sadness, but oh so, oh so comfortable, and buried in it. Covered up with it, forever and ever.

This of course is part of the dream feeling, what I'm describing here, that I've gone on and on about, so many times before.

Glenna died.

Yeah.

When I heard that Glenna died, about two hours after that I told Chiy what happened and that I needed to go to Austin, even though that weren't true. I just wanted the rest of the night off and it was just easier to tell Chiy that I had to go to Austin, instead of having to explain to him that a man just wants a few hours to himself after something like this. He wouldn't have bought that.

Anyway. Just like anything else that comes out of the blue with no warning, I react at first by getting extremely pissed off, because I'm never ever prepared to deal with unexpected emotions. It's a selfish reaction.

I hate it that this happened. I hate it when shit turns bad. I hate hate hate it. A lot of that is selfish, because I hate having these emotions fucking me up, and part of the reason for that is because I don't have any control. I'll be fine one minute ago, and then suddenly this minute I can't keep it together, which especially sucks if I'm around other people, because it's an ugly thing when I break down.

Everything I've said so far is positively selfish, and I recognize that. What can I say? I have no excuse.

I can't stand the thought of dad being alone. I can't stand that thought at all, and I can't stand what it's like for dad. I don't even want to be typing any of this because it forces me to think about it. I keep saying to myself, 'grandma was ok after grandpa died'. Dad will be ok, too. I have to keep saying that over and over to myself.

Ok. That's all. I'm glad Matt and Leigh are there with Dad.