It's Too Cold to Eat Pho

It's too cold to eat pho, by yourself, on a Monday, in winter, when you don't feel like breaking out the character map to place the correct accented 'o', right after you got back your paper bleeding with red pen marks, that you wrote on the children of Darfur, that was inspired by your girlfriend, who you just found out has a malignant tumor the size of a golf ball in the left frontal lobe of her brain, before she told you that she has only six months to live and that she will be leaving you, to spend the rest of her time in hopes of chasing after her true love, which isn't you, but your best friend whom you were already invested with in a trip to Tripoli, which you were to see your former roommate, that you smoked weed with every Thursday night after chemistry, who was shot in the face with a pistol held by a remorseful policeman, commanded by a totalitarian dictator hanging on to a thread of a silk curtain, connected to the country he once knew. It's way too cold for pho.

Repeated Square

The square, should have four sides, all equal in length, with its corners set at right angles. This painting is of a single line, trying to mirror the path of a square.

The line travels in a closed loop. After a loop, the line never seems to be able to repeat exactly the mark it set before. While, at times trying to be the square, the line veers away, whether it be because of lost of concentration, or lack of discipline.



The  colors used in the painting represent the colors associated with the lines travel. The line repeatedly travels on a white surface. This is meant to portray the lack of color in the robotic loop, which the line travels over and over again. Inside the square features yellow. While traveling in a circular path, the point object will always look towards the inside, as the inside is the direction of acceleration. The green on the outer parts of the square

In a holistic view, the line is you. Year after year, we attempt to follow this ideal path, which can be define as simply (and vaguely yet well defined) as a square. The square, an un-curving, straight, enclosed shape, which all look identical to each other. We have been told to fit this mold, the perfect boring square, and follow the path. The white you travel on, is the worn out ground that has been trampled into soil that is inadequate for any type of growth. The yellow of the inner, represents old tired yellowing grass. Passed are the days of rain, fertility, the dry heat, overwhelming struggles, leaves this plain in an inevitable state of death. The outer is green, grass, untouched yet always so near. We walk along this narrow border of the two, going through the motions, following what others have said to follow, forcefully or by suggestion. It is till you realize what you want, and then float away to your space.

I was the one who drew the picture, but I implore you to also experience this. Take your pen, pencil, mouse, brush, or what ever you have in hand, that can be used creatively and start a line to make a square, then keep making them. Keep drawing these squares right on top of each other. Twenty of them, forty, fifty, keep going.

Have you stopped? These are your years; the years in which I told you how to live. Did you feel the point of drawing the squares, while drawing them? Probably not after the nth square, it felt just like the last one you drew.

Planet Saving Tip (call it..) 20

Don't listen to your music excessively loud. Not only does listening to music loudly increase the power needed to operate to the electronical device, it also makes the other sound generating electronical devices harder to hear. This causes others who need to listen to their electronical device to louden the volumification. Thou maketh mute madre morn. System called Positive feedback loop, impressive, with unbounded exponential growth, yet dB level in logarithmic system can't dance. For All n>N, [Xn<Xn+1 | ep > 0 > abs(compliment[Xn])]. Compliment[Xn], "Xn that is a fantastic blouse you have on, the neck line really goes well with your chin shape"

So the dolphins don't forget, because the elephant never does, but the flamingos don't really care though, the giraffe minding her own business, the hyenas just chillin in the sun, waiting for some iguana to come back with food, (fyi: the jaguar stole it).

Low Morale

I took a swig of cognac before using a chainsaw to cut the limbs of trees which should not have been cut.

Alternatively, The Best Coffee

I went to a Starbucks and tried to order a bold drip. No dice. So the dude there said that he could make some thing poured-over, of course I said hells yeah fucker. Then the dude goes, which?

Which what? Which coffee? Fucking unreal. I could choose any coffee in the store, and have them brew that for me, of course I didn't choose. There was too many shits going through my head. Mind blowing. Something bold, at least as bold as my McMuffin and my flavored tortilla chips (backstory). I pay, and damn what do I find, some dude who knows his shit, gets some coffee beans from Kenya, grinds them up, and makes the cup of coffee. All that for some simple brewed coffee. The store was, pretty busy too. To expand the cue, all for one cup, all for one customer. So then the dude who knows his shit hand delivers this shit to me, and says, this shit is straight Kenyan. I give my respects.

Now right here, is were I have to pause this story. What if, after the whole process, the harvesting of the seeds, the plane trip over to freedomvile, the roasting of the raw seeds, the packaging of the beans, the opening of the bag, the grinding of the whole coffee beans, the education of the man who really knows his shit, the waiting, the pouring of pure water, the straining into a logo'ed cup, and delivery to me. What is after all of that, I take off the lid, and pour refined sugar, and non-dairy creamer into the cup. That would be a slap in the face, not just to the man who knows his shit, but to everyone who worked together to bring me this coffee.

At first slip, I know that this is different. Normally I would have a partially burnt tongue, but this was at the perfect temperature. I could actually taste the flavor from the beginning, and it was a wonderful taste, too bad I can't remember it because I am too high off of caffeine right now. Infinitely drinkable, from the start and what do you know, I was nearing the end of the cup. My experience was fantastic so far, but I was expecting at least some sort of coffee bean remnants on the bottom, nothing can be that great. But holy shit, I finished it, and saw nothing. Nothing. The bottom was as clean as it was, when it was a tree.

That was the best cup of coffee I have ever experienced. Not french pressed, not Turkish, not espresso, just a man who knows his shit pouring water over ground beans filtered into a cup.

The Last Bite of The Sandwich

I have chosen to only broadcast a short section of my posts on to other networking sites now, so for now you'll have to go to my blog to view the full post.  I did this because I felt I was losing control of the look of my content. One of the sites, choose to enlarge the first letter of every post.  I didn't like that, that is not what I would do, or how I think, it should look. A photographer hates artifaction cause by compression, when uploaded to a site, miserly with bandwidth. It's put their pictures in bad light.

Oh wait, I am not an artist like that though. The stuff I write has the purpose to make the things in truck stop bathrooms read like Jane Austen.

(P.S: I have never read Jane Austen)

Midnight With A High RHR

My resting heart rate is too high right now. I can't sleep. Its
probably around 80 bpm, I would like it at 60 (or some insanely low 35
bpm, but I am not a 90lb super marathon runner who lives on top of a
mountain), but that thing is one of those involuntary organs. I can't
control it. Eight hours ago I was pushing myself till exhaustion. I
became exhausted, but my heart still felt the need to work. It is
still working now, much harder than I think it should, but what do I
know? It's my body, I should know the exact amount of blood needed for
adequate circulation, right?

Obviously

I changed the way this blogs looks. I darken all that you need not read, and brighten that in which content, of my choosing, be highlighted. I am also currently writing, in this pretentious, comma saturated, speak, that which your damn may not be given. Black as the night tardy to the moon's wake, who sneezed out disease, viral plague, infecting all of a water-born yellow fever.

Who will I miss, that memory of the wide orangeness, looped together by looms of fruit? What speak of thee, for that question, it was not. To be of fashion anymore grand would be, the writings of emotion in the code of Morse. What fowl cliques of the Queen's this be, ye' od mix'd wih forc'd Middle English. Once a shark, that swims in water, quickly drowns in a sea of alonelyness, the fish of noble, to never meet barnes. Fudge the rain, fudge the sky, fudge the world, chocolate smears the ground when steps are passed, and passed again.

This day is of loving harps, who's song, sings, love's heart. Whether upside-down, backwards, down-side-sideways, the order of the heart's beat neither fades, nor differs, as the organ of necessity. Winds will blow later, the yellow sparrow flies, wings spread through rough turbulence of desire. Subject adjective object, adverb, adverb, verb, noun, verb, noun...

Collision

What people say is
    A train wreck
Happening before my eyes
    Presenting on hearing loss
Going unheard
   Who are these people
Speaking words of such
   Boredom?
       Power Point showing blanks
Latin, Roman, Arabic?
     These words have no sound
No power to penetrate
   Through our loss of hearing
My Ipod tells me all
          That I should know
     At a loudness that it wants

I can't feel :(

Don't hand me anything, I will either squeeze it till it shatters or drop it on the floor. My emoticons don't even look right. It still looks like a semi colon and a left parentheses to me. The walls in my life are painted in colors I did not choose, just literally; nothing metaphorically symbolical euphemistic about that I think. Well, I don't know, I can't read words that aren't written. There are words that aren't written? Well how would I know they're there? I can't see them now can I? You learn something new every day. Like how euphemistic is an actual word, that surprised the Dickens out of me, both Charles and Emily. It was the best of ...something, yup all of it out.