tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59576732012-02-16T09:38:54.397-08:00For lack of a better word.Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.comBlogger971100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-56219262494037898652010-10-13T00:44:00.000-07:002010-10-13T01:04:11.891-07:00

He whose name is not spoken in polite circles (a million praises to him and his eternal seed) has trouble sleeping. A dull--almost imperceptible--undercurrent of thought nudges him back into awareness every time he tries to drift into dreams. Thoughts about nothing. Across town, two other souls, like him, have forgotten what it is to enjoy a nights sleep. Delusions of wealth keep them

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-86724572601927641602010-06-08T23:35:00.000-07:002010-06-09T00:00:46.319-07:00

No word yet on whether this is a summer night or a winter evening; its too close to call. Such trifles aside, however, there is grave business to be settled. He whose name is rarely, if ever, spoken (not entirely due to a scarcity of blog posts) enjoys a rich, smoky sips of an Islay malt, seemingly pondering the answer to the Universe with his eyes closed as the peaty fragrance wafts up his

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-22857178786705472972009-05-23T17:52:00.001-07:002009-05-23T17:52:07.504-07:00

In an orderly fashion, please, there is no need to panic.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-30931900336163429322009-05-23T17:28:00.001-07:002009-05-23T17:53:12.783-07:00

This is part 1 of "The Wisdom of the Universe", translated to the tongue of men, as told by M--also known as Dr. T--praise be to him and his immortal soul, to his Insignificant Aide (wretched curses from the depths of burning hell unto her and her inbred lot).M looks out into the brilliant blue California sky.M: "Poverty."I: "Pardon me, sire?"M: "Poverty, you deaf sloth! Poverty!"I: " Yes sire,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-80071314332054303682009-02-22T19:48:00.000-08:002009-02-22T20:14:05.218-08:00

M, also known as Dr. T--may the light of a hundred thousand suns shine upon his countenance-- stares an empty stare down the endless corridor. Towards its furthest reaches, where the light gives up its very soul to the death-grip of eternal darkness, lies salvation. So near, yet so far. He can sense it: a dark, warm nothingness washing the universe all the way to its very end.As M reaches deep

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-78109699324941764972009-02-15T13:02:00.000-08:002009-02-15T13:28:13.799-08:00

M, also know as Dr. T, the praise of a billion taxpayers shower upon him, is awoken from his sleep.Insignificant Aide (Ia) is staring at him expectantly.Ia: "Ah sire, you awaken. The radiance of your handsome face has kept me warm this evening."M: "Quick, you overgrown bag of filth, what is it you want now?"Ia: "O divine brother, I would be blessed to be the mother of little ones."M: "All right,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-50635173708734818962009-02-06T18:53:00.000-08:002009-02-06T19:16:30.429-08:00

Soft clouds pummel the mountainside. Thunder. Rain. More thunder. More rain. Repetitive writing. Short sentences. Headache.Just as your head feels like it will split open, M, also known as Dr. T (Praise be unto his name and his ten-headed virgin father who shall not be named) bursts into the room, guns blazing.M: "I have burst into the room, and my guns are blazing."M's Insignificant Aide (curses

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-83263356841700939842008-08-24T22:57:00.000-07:002008-08-24T23:00:11.178-07:00

As the faces of the fallen stream across the flickering screen, and their tears seem larger than life, M is struck by an overpowering sense of boredom. Sleep hits like a thick fog.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-15168650533340333452008-08-13T20:57:00.000-07:002008-08-13T21:12:06.846-07:00

Serious blogging has left M (also known as Dr. T, may praises shower upon his peaceful countenance) with a sprained thumb and a sore mind.I'm a little teapot, short and stout.Here is my handle, here is my spoutAs the heavenly aroma of Peking duck makes his mouth water, he realizes he has no money, not for a duck, not for the local train.Oh, woe is me!

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-53561301896181687102008-04-28T23:00:00.000-07:002008-04-28T23:13:01.933-07:00

M (also known in lands beyond the mind's eye as Dr. T, praise be unto him) feels his stomach sink as the voice with the soft T's reads aloud his worst fears. Her voice fades in his mind, lost among magical thoughts of a delirious mind.With eyes glazed over into hard Grey marbles, M is helped up and led away.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-56102883393769458022007-12-23T00:11:00.000-08:002007-12-28T18:42:22.658-08:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him in a thousand tongues of old) is almost awake. In the land between, there is a Grey mist all over, as slithering clocks melt away the final seconds of his delicious slumber.Snooze.Silence.The clocks scatter and hide, waiting for their moment.Five hundred and forty seconds have passed since the clock was last heard by mortal ear. A cold silence has since

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-88322860791265705812007-10-24T23:20:00.000-07:002007-12-28T18:26:30.805-08:00

Ia looks across the water to the sunny hills peppered with little white settlements and little black knots of trees. So near, yet so far."Hot as an afternoon in hell, surely!," she tells herself.waaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAmmmmmmmmmooooooooooooooooo.........."WTF!@***%!!"Big truck in the blasted blind spot."Stupid f***ing trucker!!"

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-70967314789483598992007-10-07T18:15:00.000-07:002007-10-07T18:30:37.189-07:00

M (also know as Dr. T, praise be unto his eternal seed) is content. He reflects on a life well lived. As the approaching light becomes brighter and hazier, he hears soothing music. A melody he has not heard before, but one that makes his heart sing.M: " Goodbye, pleasant world."Meanwhile, his Insignificant aide (also known as Ia, may a billion curses of fire unto her wretched offspring be!)

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-76419230311280473892007-09-13T17:44:00.001-07:002007-09-13T18:10:27.458-07:00

It looks old and mysterious. A small, dark disk, with spiral patterns.Insignificant aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ignorant lot): "Ooooh! It must be old"M (Also known as Dr. T, Praise be unto him and his divine seed): "How do you know?"Ia: "God must have created it"M: "God is great. He does not have to create anything"Ia: "But she must have created it because she wanted to, not

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-30183208039952339622007-09-02T02:52:00.000-07:002007-09-02T02:53:42.412-07:00

(Stoli + Rose's Grenadine + Rose's lime juice)

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-70648649183057406012007-06-18T00:11:00.000-07:002007-06-18T00:12:08.890-07:00

P flits around the land, here now, there tomorrow, back here again the next week.As mortals grow older, celebrate life and its steadily approaching debilitation and end, P celebrates with them, but answers a higher calling, drifting through space but steady in time, like a cork waiting in a river.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-25828038796751534772007-06-17T23:52:00.001-07:002007-06-18T00:11:21.500-07:00

M (also known as Dt. T, praise be unto him), has a vision. It is a beautiful Sunday evening, as M seeks a shelter and food. As his stomach leads him to wondrous places, his eyes catch sight of an unassuming figure leaning against a lonely tree. A couple of young ones play around him with the golden light of a fading day diffusing in their locks. They play in the shade of his presence, never

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-62468143936016857672007-06-15T15:58:00.000-07:002007-06-15T16:04:58.071-07:00

M (also know as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his immortal seed) moves uneasy this evening. He cannot see Brea (also know as B, whose name, it is said, was spoken by the Mother herself in the early ages) but he senses her presence. She whispers not a breath, but M knows she rests in the damp depths that light rarely sees.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-42885890891278335752007-06-12T18:36:00.000-07:002007-06-12T18:51:40.080-07:00

Its is a long day, a day whose memory shall be immortal.M (also known as Dr. T, praise unto him be) ascends from the blue smoke, a proud countenance.M: " Henceforth, I shall have two faces."His Insignificant Aide (Ia, curses unto her immoral soul) gasps. The sight is breathtaking.Ia: "gasp!"Clear as the afternoon sky, M has two faces.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-4554097307956143682007-05-15T13:44:00.001-07:002007-05-15T13:46:10.172-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto his God-fearing soul that bows to no one but the one just God who hates the hippie- liberal- homosexual- abortionist- atheist- man- from- ape- baboons and the unbelieving heathen billions out east that are destined for limbo despite their conservative- heterosexual- pro- life- fundamentalist- man- from- pixie- dust- death- to- all- infidel beliefs) is

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-46461348028538240632007-05-14T21:42:00.000-07:002007-05-14T22:26:01.995-07:00

The passage of time has been dimmed by the years gone by, but the warm, heavy, air awakens M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him). Nothing has changed. The roiling clouds tear the sunshine to to shreds, and the heat seems to rise from the very bowels of hell.Fan: "Nice shirt, man. Where'd you buy it?"M: "Oh. Yeah. this one. yeah..."

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-81781135198812567172007-05-01T01:07:00.000-07:002007-05-14T22:13:12.014-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) watches the afternoon waste away into an uneasy Sunday evening . The cycle repeats, week after fleeting week whose brevity belies an endless life, just like the warm desert afternoon withers into the chill of a starry night, only to reveal another sunrise.M is beyond cycles. M has no beginning, nor has he an end.M is.M: "..."His

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-35085746029550130442007-04-20T10:23:00.000-07:002007-04-20T10:26:52.523-07:00

uhluhtC stirs. In his own words:uhluhtC languishes on the Eastern shores, biding his time. For his time will come. When He shall return to reclaim what is rightfully His. But for now He sleeps. And He languishes. And He curses. Terrible, unspeakable invocations that if felled upon a mortal's hearing would drive him to madness.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-64982383645352609202007-04-15T19:06:00.000-07:002007-05-14T22:13:32.665-07:00

The evil Dr. R (Also known as uhluhtC, upon whose name darkness feeds) lies shrouded in the steamy lands lands beyond the eastern sea. All is forgotten for a while, and the earth trudges on. As the rivers flow through long days, however, there is talk of his numerous insidious shapes seen in the woods at twilight, of missing sheep, and of the unmistakably large proboscis. Hushed voices tell

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-38617914846797681492007-04-04T11:00:00.000-07:002007-05-14T22:13:48.058-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praises unto him and his divine seed) and Ia stand proud on the glistening cobblestones this morning. As the early fog is swallowed by the morning sun, they see them: their tattered clothing dyed with blood, their open wounds festering with plump maggots, and their faces keen to feast on whatever walks in their path.Insignificant aide(Ia, curses unto her) moves back an

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-67920536489064131292007-04-03T18:15:00.000-07:002007-04-03T18:22:31.696-07:00

Bossj: "Less defect, more perfect. chop, chop."M mauls BossJay.Bossj: "!@#@!#$~!@#!@#$****"Pain ensues.Bossj is tamed.He can now see.==[Canadian national anthem goes here]====[3 seconds]====[Fade]==

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-51031662761604887002007-03-26T18:40:00.000-07:002007-03-29T15:36:23.983-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, upon whose name the heavens dance) sits regal at the window.It is a marvelous spring day outside the double glaze, as the blossoms set sail on the sunny breeze across the parking lot. From the corner of his eye, he looks at Ia, now gorging herself silly with the crunchy delights from the red earthen cornucopia.He looks out again, away from Ia, this time beyond the blossoms

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-17161915711580187562007-03-22T12:08:00.000-07:002007-03-22T12:41:23.882-07:00

Insignificant Aide (Ia, curses unto her and her wretched lot) has given up all worldly desires for the day. "Take all you wish, if it makes you happy." False accusations slide off her back, like Grey rain on a dark crow. She knows the hour will come when all will be leveled.For now, all she wants is to lift herself out of this claustrophobic crevice into which the retarded M (Also known as Dr. T,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-14040810511868371572007-03-21T22:12:00.000-07:002007-03-21T22:25:38.818-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, a thousand praises unto him) grunts a low guttural in his sleep. As he sweats in the dark heat, he curses the unseen enemy. He does not dare open the window, though the sweet fragrance of death tempts. The reaper will have to wait.M scratches himself behind the ear, and sinks back into sleep.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-37992525763631135522007-02-13T16:33:00.000-08:002007-02-08T17:19:17.639-08:00

It is something no living eyes have ever seen. M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) is on a hunt.He approaches quietly from downwind, keeping himself in the shadows, where his inky coat blends his form with the darkness. His gaze is locked, his muscles taut. In the blink of an eye, he pounces on his unsuspecting prey. The shock paralyzes the hunted, who by now can only manage

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-39812004523534062512007-02-08T17:01:00.000-08:002007-02-06T14:10:53.920-08:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his tail) is content. His memory equity is high. His thoughts from before the golden age are today worth a large fortune. He taunts his Insignificant Aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ears).M: "What are your thoughts worth? eh? What are they worth? hm? Tell me, you spineless worm! What is the value of memories?"Ia is oblivious to the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-30328654336069142652007-02-06T14:07:00.000-08:002007-02-06T14:10:54.123-08:00

Warm brownies do not wait for black hooded cars, neither in Burlingame, nor in Berkeley."What the f*** have I been smoking?"

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-29297509224412225282007-02-05T13:09:00.000-08:002007-02-05T13:39:32.297-08:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) switches on his new five-hundred and seven inch super high definition plasma laser blue ray 1080081i television hooked up to a receiver the size of a furnace, with speakers hanging from every single corner of the windowless room and a sub-woofer that turns the couch into a massage chair, to watch a five foot tall bundle of talent, formerly

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-52584751659849133182007-01-19T12:16:00.000-08:002007-01-19T12:26:27.413-08:00

M (Also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his divine seed): "How dare you accuse be of obtuse writing, you two-pence whore!!? What the f*** have you been smoking?"Insignificant Aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ignorant lot): "..."M: "Do you know what I am? Have you any clue of my powers? I could have you vaporized in less than seventeen seconds, your worm!"Ia: "Not this time,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-72704271514894262242007-01-17T17:24:00.000-08:002007-01-17T17:36:45.821-08:00

There is snow on the peaks this afternoon. M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) , however, is unfazed. His lack of a fear response heartens Ia, who trudges silently beside him, albeit a step behind.It is as if his days are endless in number and his afternoons go on forever. M fears nothing, it seems, not even his voluminous stomach, which now hangs pendulous, reaching for mother earth.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-54427975365604948682007-01-12T17:23:00.000-08:002007-06-18T00:13:29.815-07:00

"In the white room with black curtains near the station....Ill wait in this place where the sun never shines;Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves...Ill sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves."-- Jack Bruce and Pete Brown.Ia waits among the millions of restless devotees who have waited days on end for a sighting of the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-59795410618520347142007-01-02T14:41:00.000-08:002007-01-02T14:46:06.150-08:00

M is tired of the endless cycle. Of arbitrary days chosen to be celebrated as markers of the new year. This time around, M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his divine seed) has chosen to sail through unscathed. Through the mindless drinking, the inane revelry, the consumerist evil. M scoffs at the list of Ia's new year resolutions, written neatly on yellow paper with a permanent

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-46824589366623969862006-12-27T13:30:00.000-08:002006-12-27T13:44:29.776-08:00

It has now been three days in bedlam. Ia teeters on the brink of insanity.M, meanwhile, seems to have lost it a long time ago. He does not even try to raise a thought against the insanity.The high beings come to take Ia. She is suddenly enclosed by an unseen barrier; a dark envelope in which the world outside is just a dim memory. She feels rumbling from without; it become stronger; a sensation

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1166654119099287812006-12-20T14:21:00.000-08:002006-12-20T14:35:19.110-08:00

"As the days shorten, the air clears, the trees are stripped, and the land is cleansed by the arctic air, minds are muted by nonsense."-- M (Also known as Dr. T), December 2003.M curls up on the cold white leather; his eyes are half closed, his mind completely so.Ia, meanwhile, ponders on the purpose of existence. With the holidays drawing closer, the morning sun sets her thoughts off on a

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1165959649484216372006-12-12T13:29:00.000-08:002006-12-12T13:40:49.496-08:00

Insignificant aide (a.k.a. Ia, curses be to her and her ignorant lot) has a sex change. She is now a female. A rabid speciescist, she ruthlessly slashes the innocent leaves that sprout forth from the black soil.M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him, the leader of the free world): "What the f*** do you think you are doing, you moron? The gentle one loves those leaves."Ia: "Forgive me sire,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1165522377250896592006-12-07T11:59:00.000-08:002006-12-07T12:12:57.263-08:00

M (Also known as Dr.T, a thousand praises be unto him) dreams of lumped crabmeat and breaded pork tenderloins with a mushroom reduction. His whiskers twitch, and his paws shudder.His insignificant aide (Ia, a hundred thousand curses unto him and his wretched lot), however, is lost. Ia sits at the window, mesmerized by the bright and colorful world outside. Although the courtyard seems to be a

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1161792138712078322006-10-25T08:59:00.000-07:002006-10-25T09:02:18.723-07:00

Ia (Insignificant aide, a thousand curses unto him and his wretched lot) struggles and grunts under the weight of his miserable life. He views M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) with envious eyes. Oh, how wonderful it would have been...

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1155025719576913082006-08-08T01:00:00.000-07:002006-09-22T16:26:58.810-07:00

Ia (Insignificant aide, curses be unto him and his infidel offspring) grunts as he drops the two hundredth bag of potatoes at the edge of the large pile in the pantry. The evening sun lights the air with the dust from the potatoes. Their earthy odor is thick, and Ia's back feels like its going to come undone.M (Also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) is standing at the pther doorway, surveying

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1154938635302991182006-08-07T01:05:00.000-07:002006-08-07T01:17:15.313-07:00

Ia (Insignificant aide, woe unto him and his ignorant lot) tries hard to mask his boredom. Cooped up all day in a room that is more dreary than the grey skies outside, with one tiny window to see the snow pile up on the fenders of the cars across the streets, three floors below, Ia keeps himself entertained whistling tunes he has never heard in his life. The whistling does not go on for long

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1154568880129237552006-08-02T18:00:00.000-07:002006-08-04T20:13:10.776-07:00

Its a kinder, gentler afternoon; a welcome change after day upon scorching day of summer's torrid punishment. M (also known as Dr.T, praise be unto him) steps out into the warm sunlight and closes his eyes. The soft wind ruffles the grass and makes the tiny flowers dance among the golden blades.His mind wanders away, to distant lands beyond the seas. To rivers that ebb at dusk, leaving

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1153105203849681782006-07-16T19:48:00.000-07:002006-07-16T20:00:03.860-07:00

M (Also known as Dr.T, praise be unto him) reaches the summit of the small hill of ice and looks stoically at the dim distance. His Insignificant aide (Ia), meanwhile, struggles his way up the last few steps, his bones frozen by the arctic chill. The frozen wind howls past them as they stand on the summit, surveying the dim outline of the mountain that towers above the icy plain, obscured by

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1152581078206906142006-07-10T18:22:00.000-07:002006-07-10T18:24:38.206-07:00

A penny might masquerade as a dime for a while, but every coin has to meet its vending machine someday.--M (also known as Dr.T, praise be unto him).

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1152123943766546982006-07-05T11:06:00.000-07:002006-07-10T18:20:31.816-07:00

Ia (Insignificant aide) is mesmerized by the exploding night sky reflected off the battered shells of sleeping giants. The behemoths lie motionless, oblivious to the ocean of colors that spews forth from the sky. It takes imagination to believe that these gentle giants will rise with the sun to fly to the ends of the earth, seeking treasure.The moon seems to be engulfed by fire, as thunderous

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1151302555365691102006-06-25T23:00:00.000-07:002006-06-25T23:15:55.376-07:00

M (Also known as Dr.T, praise be unto him) has trouble sleeping. Every time he rolls into another position, he feels for a moment that it is cool enough to help him drift into sleep, only to find himself thinking about a hundred vagaries after a few minutes. The vicious cycle of more thought thrown in to sedate all thoughts leads him down the slippery slope of restless frustration. Outside,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1151087144012039312006-06-23T10:43:00.000-07:002006-06-23T11:29:43.173-07:00

Dark clouds creep up out of the forsaken lands in the west and begin to sap out the life from a spotless blue sky. The thunder is strangled by the distance and the flickering lightning flashes quietly, deep in the bellows of the storm. The wise know, however, that it is only a matter of hours before all hail will break loose as the heavens spew out their anger.M (also known as Dr. T, praise

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150953648710058282006-06-21T21:49:00.000-07:002006-06-21T22:20:48.723-07:00

The bitter cold winds from the dark north sweep across the barren plains, dry as a bone. M's fighters stand fast, their spirits raised by spirits, their hopes by weed, and their desire by the promise of victory. Their silver helmets reflect a grey sky, and their eyes reflect the emptyness that stretches to the horizon and endlessly beyond.High in the castle, M zips up, as his aides step back.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150852183169333012006-06-20T18:07:00.000-07:002006-06-20T18:44:17.546-07:00

Insignificant aide (Ia) bites into a cold apple-nutmeg muffin. There's less sugar than he would have liked, but it surprises him with its calming sweet aroma as he closes his eyes to enjoy this little escape from the daily grind. In his mind he sees visions of his youth; of his grandmother, and how she caused grief to his grandfather by eloping in her eighties. His poor grandfather spent much

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150741650636669732006-06-19T11:07:00.000-07:002006-06-19T11:27:30.683-07:00

M smiles.Or so he thinks, at least.He smiles in his sleep, for he is dreaming. He dreams of the future, of the past, of things that might have been but never were. Of things that may be, but never will. Images of impossible things. Of cigarettes, of tobacco, of electronic key fobs that are rendered ineffective by airport X-ray machines.M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) dreams of curly

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150684218544500152006-06-18T19:21:00.000-07:002006-06-18T19:32:15.926-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) views the distant hills with suspicion as the slant rays of a golden evening cast sinister shadows in the deep folds on the hillside. The summer has parched the grass to a dull dusty color (this is one way of avoiding having to state any color, in case you are color blind) and the hills look like they could do with some water. In these parts, the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150509120345282082006-06-16T18:45:00.000-07:002006-06-18T11:22:07.376-07:00

M (also known as Dr. T, Praise be unto him) decides to camp for the night, against the suggestions of his whimpering aides. Their horses, however, are happy to rest after a seemingly endless day of trudging with fat losers on their backs.The aides are scared that the local savages will silently creep in from the darkness and carry them away into the black of the pine forest, to be sacrificed to

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1150425237634875792006-06-15T19:11:00.000-07:002006-06-15T19:33:57.646-07:00

==[The scene: A dark, cavernous hall atop an old stone castle. Little lamps high on the towering walls try feebly to light the dark that seems to be waiting to creep down upon M and his two aides. M sits on his cold throne, low to the ground, and looks out upon the endless hills, wet with the rain from the grey sky that has been weeping for as long as the elders can remember.]==M: Who's

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1147989954605480142006-05-18T14:59:00.000-07:002006-06-18T11:16:07.900-07:00

The future looks golden, but only if we can keep our wits about us on the murky path upward. Gold or not, we keep moving on, taking time now and then to remind ourselves how far we have come from depths that were darker than dark.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1147047536204748032006-05-07T17:08:00.000-07:002006-05-07T23:36:53.653-07:00

Life is busier suddenly. Its good to finally have real deadlines and expectations that border on being unrealistic.There is no way I can do justice to all. Some owe my allegiance over all others, till the end of days.As the mince boils on the stove, and the water is not "separating from the fat" like it should, I see a chaotic pattern: the eternal struggle between now and forever.Running away

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1145993384457009592006-04-25T12:27:00.000-07:002006-04-25T12:29:54.363-07:00

Do the roads not taken really exist outside of poetry?Can we reach out into parallel universes?Can we taste and smell alternative worlds?Is it worth thinking about them? Do we have enough time to?

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1145837150706819402006-04-23T16:58:00.000-07:002006-04-23T17:05:50.716-07:00

Measuring a summer's dayI only finds it slips away to greyThe hours they bring me pain.-- Jimmy Page, "Tangerine", circa 1970.Between waiting for the long days to end and living before its too late, a balance needs to obtain. Sooner rather than later.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1144189427386951442006-04-04T15:08:00.000-07:002006-04-04T15:23:47.426-07:00

"Your work does not define your life." I have heard this one many times; it also comes with minor variations. However, work does become a significant part of our lives because it pays the bills and because you take up a job you enjoy doing. Consider this: If you were a rock star or a tennis superstar, your work would be your life. You would want it no other way, and neither would the millions

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1142136131519873392006-03-11T19:56:00.000-08:002006-03-11T20:02:11.530-08:00

Talent . Ive come across the word quite a few times in the recent past. Interestingly, the word is applied only to abilities related to the fine arts such as pencil sketching, painting, dancing, music, singing, and sometimes to sports. Patience doesn't count as talent, neither does the ability to keep a cool head, to keep things in perspective, to be strong when everyone around you is losing

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1141454604177990722006-03-03T22:08:00.000-08:002006-03-03T22:43:25.543-08:00

As Vishwas says: "Life is short, make it long." Two short lives. Wealth, drugs, and poetry.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1140412637492716982006-02-19T21:07:00.000-08:002006-02-19T21:17:17.506-08:00

What are memories? Do they exist without consciousness? What is consciousness? What is a blog?Who is the chief of the Peruvian ministry for tourism? What does one fill in line G of IRS form 0603 SS-8PR? Why not anything else? Why?These are fundamental questions that science is yet to answer. As things stand, this should clearly support my stance that science has given us more questions than

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1139684713285665032006-02-11T10:55:00.000-08:002006-02-11T11:05:13.343-08:00

A 200-pound labrador retriever was unhappy at being left alone in the back of a pickup truck in 10 degree weather. He decided in his freezing condition that he would opt out, and, at the next stop light, jumped out of the truck and towards a gas station. At the gas station, he waited patiently near the door for someone to push it open and entered behind that person. That person turned out to be

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1139635435503462672006-02-10T21:12:00.000-08:002006-02-10T21:23:55.516-08:00

An old chair once found itself in panic because the dense crowd trying to squeeze into the subway trian seemed like it would prevent the chair from getting off the train and to an interview which held the promise of a better career. The chair was frustrated with its current job and wanted to move up. After a good bit of pushing, shoving, and grunting, the chair got off the train. As it was

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1139555107353594552006-02-09T22:54:00.000-08:002006-02-09T23:05:07.366-08:00

Music seems to be one thing that has at least one more dimension thatn the universe we live in. A magical transport out of existence and back.Maybe I should revist my pointless stories with inane morals. That used to be fun. So, here goes:There was once a pangolin who lived in a penthouse atop a skyscraper in Chicago. As the morning flights would approach O'Hare, they would veer dangerously

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1139466794167951202006-02-08T22:22:00.000-08:002006-02-08T23:10:04.910-08:00

Appears to me that our lives (Im generalizing based on the experience of one here, which is a gross misuse of statistics, I know) are strands of various different roles we play.While physical discomfort can cause stress, most peoples stress is a result of conflict between these strands. When our life-strands are orthogonal, they do not interfere with each other; life seems stress free, but a

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1133303144841952112005-11-29T14:21:00.000-08:002005-11-29T14:25:44.850-08:00

I dont think I enjoy blogging as much as I initialy thought. I like writing "serious" stuff at other places (not necessarily online), but these socio-political and psychological tirades are a bit much. I think madness should remain where it is most potent---In my mind.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1120759276990971662005-07-07T10:58:00.000-07:002005-07-07T11:01:16.993-07:00

Where I went to college, there was a photocopying and printing store across from the main campus. I havent seen the place for about five years now, but I still remember a poster they had on the wall there. The poster had caricatures of people jeering and laughing at a man who was weeping over his broken leg. The caption on it read: "Do not tell people your problems: half of them dont care and the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1112379222532838252005-04-01T10:11:00.000-08:002005-04-01T10:14:53.966-08:00

Poverty is a killer. How can you expect people to live a life in which they see no escape from the fear of starvation however far they can (or want to) look into their future? Where will I eat next? What will I do if it snows tonight?

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1099877919225479232004-11-07T17:31:00.000-08:002004-11-07T17:38:39.226-08:00

Blogging has been long forgotten. Or has it? Just because your regular customer has stopped showing up at your diner for breakfast does not mean she is starving to death somewhere. There are a hundred other diners to eat the first meal of the day. And then there is home. Where you can eat in the morning without having anyone else in the world know what you are eating, or even that you are eating.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1093826720207685922004-08-29T17:43:00.000-07:002004-08-29T17:45:20.206-07:00

The bridge ices before the road. The free freeze before the chained chill.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1093314881025635982004-08-23T03:02:00.000-07:002004-08-23T19:34:41.026-07:00

Where are our masters? who are our slaves? Lying by the window waiting for freedom as the sunshine mixes with our drool Looking back at the times that were, horrible nightmares, dreams we wouldn't dare see in the night skeletons in our closet never accepted. Secrets never celebrated tails between our legs. never understood never laughed at always stabbed for breathing the air who dares kill

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1092522713242234152004-08-14T15:31:00.000-07:002004-08-23T19:27:08.170-07:00

Fatalists. People who believe that all events are predetermined, that no outcome can be changed from what it has been set to be. However, if you think about it, fatalist is a mere term, whose meaning says no more than what we already know. Almost all people agree the predicting the future is next to impossible. But predicting, anticipating, and preparing for events is one of the most necessary

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1091756830013069592004-08-05T03:52:00.000-07:002004-08-05T18:47:10.013-07:00

There were a bunch of clowns who lived on a small tropical island which was uninhabited, save for them. They had not seen the rest of the world for many years. Some of the clowns thought it was a blessing that they lived that way, while others felt it was a curse. There were, however, a few buffoons who regarded their isolation from mainstream civilization neither as a boon nor as a curse. To

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1087535289091211372004-06-18T03:48:00.000-07:002004-07-23T11:40:19.033-07:00

Bhavani must have been in her late twenties. She was a large woman. Not fat or plump, but wide and tall, with a blocky face to match. Her skin was unblemished, dark as roasted coffee. She had wiry hair, springy and curly, straining to get out of the short, ragged-tipped ponytail that used to follow her head, pointing backwards but never to the ground. I am sure it a trick of my weak memory, but I

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1087454116569235402004-06-16T23:25:00.000-07:002004-06-16T23:37:59.686-07:00

There was once a fat young boy with a balding head littered with sparse hair. This young man would never cross the road unless there was a designated pedestrian crossing and other safety features. If the road had no pedestrian crossing, he would walk an extra half mile to get to one rather than risk crossing the road. However, this young boy would always try and rescue innocent lambs from the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1087359797088601692004-06-15T21:09:00.000-07:002004-06-15T21:23:17.086-07:00

"Desire is the cause of all misery and suffering." A brilliant observation. Siddartha, I think. The desire to live a life that has no misery and suffering causes all misery and suffering. Money cannot buy happiness, true. Most of us are into shit that no amount of money can get us out of. Money is not to blame, though. Its allright to have a lot of it, use it, or even flaunt it. Desire is the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1082763960159799072004-04-23T15:53:00.000-07:002004-06-16T15:43:19.076-07:00

There was once a beautiful young princess in a faraway land. Her chocolate skin and dark, flowing hair had many in awe. She pretended that she was lucky to be that way, and all the people envied her for being so lucky. Very few knew that the princess had to spend long, tiring hours keeping up her good looks. But she could not tell them that she worked hard for her looks. When she had tried saying

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1082849739461984482004-04-18T03:52:00.000-07:002004-04-24T16:40:32.186-07:00

A tall man lived with his old, frail grandmother in a small, dingy apartment that had peeling paint on some walls, no paint on others, and some walls with gaping holes showing the plumbing and electrical work running up and down the beams inside the walls. Sometimes, one could even catch a quick glimpse of large, ferocious looking, diseased rats running on these pipes. The tall man was so tall

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1082764371938929542004-04-17T03:52:00.000-07:002004-04-23T16:57:00.793-07:00

There was once a little girl who lived with her brother and her father. She had no mother. Her brother was not the nicest brother around, and would beat her up all the time. One day, the little girl complained to her father about it. The father soon had a guest house built on their mansion's lawns and moved into the guest house. He never set foot in his old house again. Moral of the story:

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080613588334908842004-03-29T18:25:00.000-08:002004-03-29T18:30:13.936-08:00

...

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080578820730620602004-03-29T03:53:00.000-08:002004-03-29T08:50:34.856-08:00

Times gone past images still remain so many we have lost and so many gained. Nothing is forever though it seems some are All will burn to the ground like a summertime flower. People we meet and memories we share washed away by time like the crisp mountain air. What things we hoped for where today we stand still chasing that light till life comes to an end. I am weak I cannot bear a mild

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080244253989586362004-03-22T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T11:54:22.763-08:00

Acid rain. I've heard it is caused by pollutants in the air as they mix with falling rain. What would happen if acid rain dropped acid of really low pH (i.e., acid that can burn your ass off) ?? Just imagine, you'd be walking home from work on a dreary tuesday evening, cursing the rain, when you smell a funny, sulfurous, plastic-burning odor. You realize its your brolly thats melting, and look

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080100972557851632004-03-20T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-23T20:10:52.076-08:00

What I imagined to be a circle turned out to be a spiral. A spiral in time and mental state in which we come back again and again to states that give us a frightening sense of deja vu. Sometimes we want to reach out and touch the other arm of the spiral. So tantalizingly near. And other times, we just wish we would move on, quickly away and outward from this place. It's a three dimensional

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1079391073355498202004-03-15T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T11:58:44.450-08:00

The evening sun falls through deep blue walls of phantom clouds. Burning through the furrows, as the day narrows into the endless night. There's a chill in the air, a feeling we both share, Blind my eyes, strangle my cries, I find no comfort in weary old skies. Murky twilight, what is it you conceal? friend or foe? or a flight to the surreal? my will is steady, I long to go;

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080244339721232002004-02-24T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T11:56:20.390-08:00

Like the living dead, Nothing goes my way today. But nothing goes wrong either. Like a muffled irritation, deep within. All over, but nowhere in particular. It's the worst kind of feeling. You're not sad or angry, but you're definitely not feeling good. Nothings wrong, but not everything is right.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1077352163869800212004-02-21T00:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T12:00:09.076-08:00

What difference does it make if I cease to exist? Why is it so hard for these calcified minds to understand that death is not to be feared? That its just a matter of time? That their fear of death amuses me? Why should I live when death is just as exciting as life? Questions. That's all I have.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080244675525694612004-02-02T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T12:01:24.250-08:00

What do we have when we get to tomorrow one final gasp There's very little time left. But there's not much to do in it anyway, so its good, I guess. Life is short, but it's an accident after all. We live through it just because we were involved in the accident of birth. Even that's not a rule. It's not the only reason we are against suicide. We live because we are taught that living is the "in

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1079391348194506882004-01-01T03:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T11:57:43.746-08:00

Take my whole life, if you will. What is one? When I have a hundred more to fill, with blissful monotony, infinite darkness, and the stench of death util I am the boundless light. -Michael "the madman" Thapa, Infinite darkness; Boundless light, 2003.

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1080243902588368372003-12-20T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-25T11:51:48.030-08:00

Some of us like to be alone, but not lonely, and others like being lonely in a crowd. Some guard their loneliness fiercely, while others just are. It is imperative for some of us that our rebellion be noticed and acknowledged, while others conceal their struggle. There are different kinds of people all around us, all very interesting. Everybody is nice at the basest level, but where would we be

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1070935248836203392003-12-08T17:23:00.000-08:002003-12-08T19:17:23.743-08:00

Do you realize that life goes fast It's hard to make the good things last You realize the sun don'-go down It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round Do You Realize - Oh - Oh - Oh Do You Realize - that everyone you know Someday will die - -Wayne Coyne, Do you realize?, 2002. How much longer till we leave ? How fast have the last five years ripped past ? How much faster will the

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1066593027722018352003-10-19T12:49:00.000-07:002003-10-19T12:50:27.203-07:00

Stalks of light grow from the ground When I cry there isn't a sound All my feelings cannot be held I'm happy in my new strange world. -Steve Harris, Strange World, 1979. Life has very little utility. There is no purpose served by it. And I wonder what moron ever came up with the idea that it should have a purpose. Why the f**k does life have to have a purpose. Let it be. Let me drive into a

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1066447508137837242003-10-17T20:25:00.000-07:002003-10-17T20:33:19.830-07:00

Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness -The Architect. The Matrix Reloaded (2003). To call it a delusion would be like calling our entire life a delusion. Which probably is true, but not for the usual reasons. Not that every one of us lives our lives on a hope (or on multiple hopes). The architect,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1066447346691718932003-10-17T20:21:00.000-07:002003-10-17T20:34:26.313-07:00

Nothing has been written for a long time now. A lull caused by a content mind. Little details of life at work, deadlines, and social obligations. There are always things to write about, not all of them interesting. Every blog begins with a single word, to bastardize an old Chinese saying. As the days shorten, the air clears, the trees are stripped, and the land is cleansed by the arctic air,

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5957673.post-1079740486923434741999-01-13T15:53:00.000-08:002004-03-23T20:11:37.640-08:00

Like a fine afternoon, on a busy day. Like a broken ankle, when all you want is to go out and play. Never here, but not quite there. never away, but rarely near. There is more pleasure in a game well lost, More desire in a hope thats not, What comes easy is taken for granted, but what we bleed for, forever enchanted. I am your broken ankle, your busy day. Your cage of gold, when you wish to

Blissful Monotonyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17039828057158575242noreply@blogger.com0