Monday, April 05, 2004

Worth Twice As Much Even at a Quarter The Vice 

I am not known for my abilities to do anything with consistency, as long as you don't count being inconsistent or rythm-based activities. And although that may not be a statement based on what we call "facts", I stand by it because I think it sounds cool and it sets up my next little bit of typestry.
Doing something consistently in life looks hard enough, from where I'm sitting, to keep me from fully understanding it without graphs and maybe a chart. But from this smae position, sitting at the computer, I find it impossible to understand how Douglas is being consistent in the after part just like he was in the life part.
To make a long explanation of a pun stretched too thin between jokes even less interesting, I'll try to find my point.
Being friends with Douglas was a great deal of work, and worth it on times ten several people have assured me. I'm sure I could have worked harder at it, but after the fact as it is, I feel lucky to have been part of such a Co..
But now he has stepped into the next plane of existence, taking with him his voice and all it's cuasiticity and volume. He's taken with him his rauctious laughter and gallows themed humor, and he's taken the pain that all that was obfuscation for. YOu would think that the work had been run till it was done, but you would be mistaken.
He left behind a life full of pieces that add up to a 3.14 of understanding, which in and of itself doesn't equal expended effort. The need to make sure more people get a piece of that 3.14 sure as f@#$ is going to, that is for sure.
Luckily I like pie.
And just as luckily, Douglas left behind a lifetime of friends who are just as committed to getting his stories heard as I am. From his fantasy fiiction book project and short stories, to his memiores he had alot to say that will still be said as long as I can manage.
I can't believe I am doing volunteer work for Douglas. But as long as I am, here is a messege for you: Guuurrrll! You were and are f'n worth it, even after you called me a fat german who would never be hired by Club Cafe.
I wouldn't bother being that petty usually, but it goes so nicely with the being bitter, who can resist?


Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Another "Fare Thee Well In The Next Dimension...." 

Hey there and hello to you, glad you made it, please have a seat and a drink. Good.
I'll let you settle in for a second, don't worry, take a breath or four. I suppose you have heard the bad news concerning Douglas Henriksen, most likely having ben reffered to my site from his newly formed Celebretion Of Life. What? No, the astigmatism makes me irony blind.
But if perhaps you are that ine guy who visits my site of his own accord, brace yourself... : Dude, Douglas Henriksen, one of the few people left who I couldn't always out- crazy, is dead. For real this time, we had it checked out. So email me at jarryn@stewiesminions.com , with any questions or comments, and most likely my roomate will continue as he has been doing so far, ammazingly. I can't take any of the credit due Tony, who is singlehadnedly doing the site, amidst juggling phone calls and making sure the arrangements are made. Just read it, you'll not believe the shit he has to go through.
Seriously, go take afew minutes and ease into the feelings, pay your respects
Stay if you like, just be warned I intend to pay my respects in more of a Fryer's Roast then something without laughter. I've learned a thing or two that I needed to from Douglas, and you'll hear it. But don't think I'm gonna give up a chance to lamb baste that ole MF, not when itss the first time in 4 years I've had a second to get a jibe in edge-wise.
So, I'll post this, then Roast seperately.....

Monday, March 22, 2004

Where I went on my night time dream cycle. 

I have always suspected certain people channel their ideas from some place other then their minds. Prolific writers like King, who writes books in the time it takes some adults to read them. H.R.Giger, places and textures that he created, or Clive Barker, or a number of other extremely prolific artists and such that occaisionally let slip that they accomplished their great work in a day, and don't remember a minute of it. I related to that only when alone, because when I write something I am really impressed with, something that makes me go" Where did that come from, it's good, and that's just not my style...?", I don't remember it after it leaves my firngers, and don't remember the process of getting it into a computer or on paper.
I had always thought, a bit reluctantly am I to admit, that I thought it was some other-dimensional well of energy or creativity that fuels art and the spark of humanity helping us to be aware of time. I thought that those people I think as channeling it could just tapp it a little more porpusefully then everyone else.
But I have totally been way too long in the explanation, espescially since I haven't even mentioned why it's in my head right now. Last night the dreams were typical manifestations of my sub-conscious' desire for certain things, and scenario's that played out to find me getting something I had wanted for ages. And I was myself this time, which is totally abnormal. Not that I was me, just that I let myself have something I wanted, even in a dream.
Regardless, I woke up with a buzzing thought in my head, and there was a series of words and phrases that came to mind, that were not my minds' voice, that made no sense to even me. I get this feeling that I need to release pressure, ease the buzzing, and I am pretty sure I can do that by writing it out. The buzzing knocks words out of my brain and then scrambles them and I wanted to write it out here, but didn't want it to be mistaken for an artsy attempt at literary innovation or something. it's the left over of a dream, the echo of other dreams lately, and I'm trying to figure out where it comes from. I think I need confirmation from my conscious that this jis just my way of finding my characters for my books, and ahving them be real to me so they won't sound wooden on the page.
I think I'll just let my fingers do the talking, and let it move without me leading it. I think it'll just come out as a stream of conscious kinda description of the thought process of someone I haven't yet introduced myself to as a character for a story. This means it's eithera new perspective or emotional concept that I don't understand or know is possible yet but have glimpsed signs of in another person. It could just as easily be a mood I am suppressing in order to avoid connections it may have to other emotions or memories that I think I have dealt with but actually am nowhere near even knowing how much in denial I am. Or it could be I'm a little dehydrated and I have what is the start of a headache. I'll grab a glass of water and start. I really hope this isn't sappy poetry about Maple trees and pancakes. Or angst riddin prose that tries to act like it's acting like it's the outlet for a tortured soul that is putting on a good show of bearing unimangible pain and loss
so it can get noticed for how brave and unique it is, hoping that will be enough to make it popular and socially accepted. I'm telling you now if it is that kinda goth shit working off the pain of losing a cat or the torture a soul goes through when flunking out of college again, then I will be needing a new monitor if I want to check my email tomorrow.
You know what? That's too much pressure for me to work under, and it's all my fault. Now it has to be either so insane that a straight-jacket pops out of the cable-modem, or so brilliantly touching and emotionally exposing, while chronicling an inner growth previously unheard of by me, or Marylin Manson will want to put it to music.
Oh well, I'll just write something that I didn't find in a dream. Better yet, I'll just take a nap and find something that doesn't have the potential to suck as much as this post did.
well, you heard me post, keep sucking, I'm about to get off...

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Vivisectional Lazyboy 

You won't believe what happened. I still don't really.
Remember when Tony was finally having that romantic dinner with Angella?
Well, substitute the romance for a drinking night with my best friend, and you get the idea.
Sever abdomimal pain, high fever, and you guessed it, all brought on by acute appendicitus. All ending with me in the ER and then off to the OR of MGH for an emergency appendectomy. I'm just healing up now enough to sit long enough to have a little computer time. And now when I look down, my stomach grimaces back at me with steel teeth. That's due to the fact they used what looks like staples to hold my wound closed. Yey!

Saturday, March 06, 2004

Thankfully It's Not ALL Relative 

Relative Measurements:

1 bit= 2 pinches= 1 slap accross the face= 1 flirtatious encounter

1 smidgen= 4 bits= 1 punch in the stomach= 1 hot suggestion

1 dollop= 2 smidgens= 1 kick to the knee= 1 person I hope I get to meet

1 gaggle= 3 dollops= 1 knee to the groin= 2 minute warning before I cum

1 gaggle= 2 glugs= 3 nights ago= 4 swallowed annonymous loads

1 blanket= 2 glugs= 4 lays before washing= 1 cherished possesion

1 smothering= 3 blankets= 1 of Nowak's "relationships"= 1 lifetime of denial

1 smothering= 1 more thing I need to get off= 1 missuse of the word "Necrophelia

1 smothering= 1 pillow + my hands + your head= 1 thing long overdue


Let's talk about the loops we find in our lives. Or, more accurately, I'll write about the loops in my life, and then I will read it twice in order to feel like I am getting my loopy message out amoungst the good people of the WWW.

After a few moments thought, I have decided that overall, and am one of those who would support an Anti-Loop campaigne. Though any campaigne such as that I would only support as long as they remained a passive organization. The unformed concept of facing off against an angry mob of Pro-Loopers doesn't sound like it could end well.

I'll list a few loops that people might have heard of, and how they have have harmed either specific people, idea's, group's, and I will probably end up making up a few horrible little loop villifying incidents, just to nail home my point.

The funny delivery of a loop horror story fooled me for a while, and it's easily understood when the Comedian who delivered the line is Jennifer Saunders, or Eddina Monsoon from the british show Absolutely Fabulous. Jennifer also writes for the show, ahving been one of it's creators, and she is used to getting a laugh out of taboo subjects and seemingly mundane actions. But upon looking closer at the story she tells, you find that she is actually reaching out for help, deeply troubled as she continues to be due to her weight problem. She is finally getting her point accross, but sadly, she gets a laugh when regailing her daughter about the Chinese restaurant that kept refilling her table's lazy susan with food as soon as she ate something off of it. "I was stuck in an eating Loop!" She cries, but it's too late, the loop gets away with enabling her eating disorder, while managing to get a chuckle in the process.

Loops haunted Eugene Levy's character in the movie Best In Show, once again taking advantage of a persons physical handicap. Levy's character tells the camera how, as a child growing up with two left feet, he had been called the vile name "Loopy", calling attention to his tendency to walk in circles. How mean fictional children can be with their name calling, and how readily a loop was found to help them in their cruel games.

And how can they(children, fictional or otherwise) be expected not to know about loops, when cereal companies fill their heads with advertising campaignes promoting the double whammy of a badly named cereal, Fruit Loops. Not only does this product name constantly remind children of the existence of loops, but it also connects it to homophobic stereotypes when coupling it with Fruit. Don't you see? So young, and they are being subliminally told that Fruit/Homosexuality goes hand in hand with Loops/Insanity. On the whole it's a falsehood, and personally I'd rather not have it being called attention too like that.

It seems that someone out there wants to keep loops out there and socially acceptable, using witty sayings and propaganda to further their evil cause. "I'm so much better and faster then you, I can run Loops around you!" Loops being used to support feelings of superiority. "What, you handn't heard the latest? You must be out of the Loop..." loops being used to differentiate between who's "In", and who's "Out". Bah!!!!!, disgusting use of an evil concept.

The US government was on the right track when it outlawed hanging poeple. For thousands of year, nooses had been the cause of millions of deaths. What I hope the government will soon realize is that the Noose left when it was outlawed, but all it did was get a makeover, change it's name, and cross back over the border, there in being revieled the vile origins of the Loop.

But worst of all, and this is actually what got me going on the whole Anti-Loop movement half an hour ago, is how I was caught unsuspecting by a loop, and how it held me captive for hours this morning. Others may be too embarrased to publicly announce when it happens to them, which it does daily to thousands, but I will not remain silent any longer.

This morning, after sitting at my computer, I signed into manhunt, as thousands of guys do in their own homes and at work. I finished replying to those that will eventually take turns acting as my magic wand sheeth for use in my magic show. but after conscieusly acknowledging that I didn't have any more emails to send or people to chat with, I missed the last opportunity for escape. Somehow the pages of member profiles currently online got my attention. I hesitently began to scroll down to see more. And from there on in I was trapped. For when one page's bottom was reached, the Next Page botton, so expertly positioned, brought me to the top of a whole new page of profiles to scroll through. But it didn't stop there, though in a better world it might have. No, it didn't end, for when I had perused the hundred of online profiles, I refreshed the pages and started anew, hoping to see just one new profile, or perhaps receive an email while I scrolled. And so it went on and on, for I was caught in the dreaded Manhunt Loop, that can trap its unsuspecting prey for days before they are aware they have been ensnared.

Somehow, after hours and hours of repetition and the same scarey photographs, I managed to duck out through the bathroom.

I then flipped the wall switch that until today I had always cursed for being connected to the wall socket that my computer is plugged into. And I felt a great wave of relief as my computer told me that I hadn't shut it down properly, and I told it it wouldn't happen again, as long as Manhunt didn't start up after the reboot.

Luckily it didn't, and I have since been writing this Anti-Loop pamphlete and mini-smear campaign in one. But now I have finished the tale, and I wonder if signing in to check my email would be such a Bad thing...

*running round in circles baby, you got me running round in circles, running round in circles....* and the track loops back onto itself....

Not So Innocent Bystanders 

Not So Innocent Bystanders

There once was this guy with an odd glare
Who if bothered would tell you to go where
All flora did wilt
As fauna he kilt
For his life he'd perceived had been un-fair

He felt justified as mayhem he did sow
As people looked on with their heads low
For what could they do?
Of his pain they all knew
But not one of their group could have said so

His tribulations were common town gossip
As his drunken old man nightly lost it
so far lost in the booze
not content just to bruise
as all through the night rang the hos'whip

Through seasons the town sat by idle
Nasty rumors that next he'd be bridled
Fell not on deaf ears
while evoking no tears
They had nothing on the pain that his sire'd dealt

Some say liquor embalms and that town would agree
More years then seemed reasonable that old man did see
thru many a bottle
he continued to throttle
that boy become man from his seed

No townie had known, it all happened so fast
He nearly missed one final glimpse of that drunken old ass
through glass as he clawed
the back window he fogged
squealing as the nursing home car twice ran over his flask

The stunned town as one shook off disbelief
while that young man fought back waves of grief
he tried not to care
while avoiding the stares
he refused to let them see him shake with relief

so they hemmed and they hawed, that they'd known all along
that old drunk ass was eight kinds of wrong
but what could be done?
its course must be run
and of this they assured themselves till early dawn

But there was one that they failed to convince
Because their communal sense of rightness made him wince
to them, all was well
and he wouldn't tell
That of his hellish life they'd barely glimpsed

So he kept to himself and his grudge
While through his long days he still trudged
and occasionally
they'd pretend not to see
as deeper into madness he plunged

And so he developed that glare
that seemed to grow less and less rare
to be left alone
so none heard him moan
as through his mind illness still flared

It took them so long to figure out what didn't seem right
How long since they'd seen him, trying to stay hidden from sight
no broken doors
and no one was sure
the number of days since last he been heard whimpering at night

They checked his old bed, then collectively said
That as sad as it sounded, he must surely be dead
but no one lost sleep
for that one lost black sheep
even though into the woods no search party tread

There was a mad man in the forest
that disturbed no plant squirrel or nest
no brain in his head
no pain there instead
he'd finally found the best place for rest.

Thursday, March 04, 2004


This Is My New Home Page, I'm trying it out for shits and giggles....it just links back here so far, but I'm learning.....

Some more on an issue that is already beaten like a deceased equine beyond reason.... 

The article from Boston.com
that I'm linking there is overall just a view of the current state of the same-sex marriage debate. I had to send a little reply into them though, when the Reveran in the article was quoted like he has some a researched opinion. And from the context and other surrounding clues, it's not hard to say that he doesn't have anything to back his thoughts up with, he just wants to be vocal and sound like he knows what he's talking about. Here is my short note to Boston.com, which I kept respectful and civil, since I was just interested in countering the statements of the priest, and not in heckeling or blaming the globe from the mans statemtns.
Dear Globe Staff
In the article, Legal, civil rights arguments fuel Congress' gay marriage debate, which I read on your site today, I found an opinion that would I like to reply to.
Such as the statements of Rev. Richard Richardson, who didn't feel a need to back up his opinion with any kind of proof. I understand that not all can be derived from statistics and polls, yet Rev. Richardson looked to be drawing his opinoin from just such resources. As faar as I know (and I lack an infinite knowledge base, so I may be incorrect), if it came to backing up statements like that with statistic and census, if an accurate one of either were possible, he would not have a leg to stand on. Musings like his, from men of influence without facts but with strong ideologies and religiously motivated opinions, are confusing and effecting the view of their followers detrimentally. In my opinoin, that is.
For that reason and others, I don't understand why such people have a say in this political process. Well, truthfully I do understand how they contribute to certain campaigns and political parties.
Let me change that then to I don't think having them being vocal or involved even on the fringes of advice is in keeping with the Constitutional seperation of Church and State. Since the marriage that is being contested and conversed about is the legal view of it, how could any one religion be brought into the fold anyway, since they would not be bothered to preside over the same sex ceremonies, and would not have many of such couples or families vieing for a seat in their church.
I respect the Reverand's right to speak his mind, and his opinion. I feel that he and others should be more specific, though, when stating their thoughts, so they don't come accross as having facts and evidence, when they are just in actuality voicing what they think is the case.
Too many people are too easy to believe what those kind of people say, just so they won't have to think it through on their own. Or at least, as far as I have gleaned from my short life and experience, that is my interperetation of it.


Sunday, February 22, 2004

Type On 

I thought I would just give a little shout out to John . Although, I think it's more typing than shouting, and more on(because it's on-line) than out. So I guess I am giving John and his cool site a Type-On, a phrase which I coin now, unless I already thought of it and coined it then, in which case I bill the phrase.
I am also going to once again use this for shameless self promotion by asking you to go to Hell , and see how damnation needed an upgrade.
And finally there should be a place everyone goes to get their Daily Bull , and here is a plce I go when I am tired of putting up with my own.

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