forty seven

in OLD english! but only the title not the content context or any other c-word that can be used to describe stuff substance or any other source of linguistic matter which usually drives the reason or value of the writing. its usually self indulgance preserveation segregation or observation that drives the need for passing out the will of the host who chooses the format to suite the needs to vent problems procedures or possiblities to whoever they need to want to listen.

just like life

there are so many things that won't matter in 100 years. 50 years. tomorrow. but that doesn't mean they can't be appreciated. there are so many things that arn't original, unique or remotely changing in any facet of life. but that also doesn't mean they can't have relevance, or significance to someone who needs it at the time. were just a freaking blip in existance, with no measure of how long we will be remembered. but that doesn't mean we shouldn't live it for all its worth and cherish what can be remembered, even if we won't be.

please don't read it

tell me your fears. so that i may exploit them in a dramatic make-you-scream-situation.

i am a tree. i am tall. i am full of sap. if you chop me off at my shins i'll bleed. and probably fall down.

seals always pass it on!

smelling is unfair when expecting fresh air but smoke is given
smelling is magical when gas is passed but roses are present
smelling is important when allergies kick in and gas leaks happen and you do nothing because you can't smell because your nose is plugged because of the allergies. Douglas firs. natures unknown murderer.
smelling is clever when adhesive is applied with no nosary reaction
smelling is confusing when pumpkins are smelt in a christmas tree lot
smelling is not as cool as hearing
smelling is a neither a right, nor a privilege, its a medium.

notes have gone downhill due to lack of mental brain power mixed with lacking will power of creativity due to the knowledge of global warming and the genocide of the jews. and fearing for pandas.

miss once, miss twice, miss thrice, oh no!

there comes a time when snow impairs. its usually going fast ye ye. thats almost as embarrassing as my own voice. when it comes to embarrassment, i get it easily. or awkwardly. often a combination of both. parents have a special power to do so quickly and effectively. snarky personal remarks also do well, and someone pointing out my flaws also does it good. nothing like self conciousness and embarrassment to unite together in a marriage of self esteem droppage. but all ends well that starts well *lie* untold or not, it is. big cans of chemical alertness have proceeded through my blood stream and ran them dry... anvils on my eyelids... turtles on my fingers.... hammocks make the best beds... cool.... breezes... ............ ..... charcoal...

the formula(s)

you can date someone thats half your age plus 7. 4 year olds, give yourselves some high fives.

girls = evil because of the whole money thing which i believe to be untrue but have yet to land proof if its truthlessness so the verdict stands. it has to do with money but i'm far to lazy to get it right.

Oswald Chambers + determined Tyler Hochhalter = self spiritual revolution

actually i had a butt ton more, but they vanished into thin air because i made movement. so. i'll give you some well unknown facts:

getting a tetnis shot in the bum originated in 1874, when the disease ran rampant among street dogs with nails in their mouth. the shots did nothing in the arm, as people back then were super skinny, the only place with enough tissue to actually take the needle was the bum. true story.

if you punch an individual in the armpit, they will poop their pants.

it has been said that if you pass gas, and burp at the same time, you will die.
likewise with sneezing and hiccupping.

the only reason we have 5 fingers is because evolution is a scam and God wanted us to have 5 fingers. hahahahhahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhahahahahhahaa.

the brown frequency only exists UNDERWATER. thats why it hasn't worked yet.

google, spelled backwards, is satan.

hair is not a right, its a priviledge.

back in the day (which was NOT a wednesday dane cook! it was NOT) the way to get high was exactly the same as it is today. except it wasn't frowned upon. as much. yes it was. MOOT.

leg hair is the endtrails of the head on your hair, making it essentially poop.

betty crocker WAS real, and she DID make excellent pastries! but the food industry couldn't let this out, so she was taken hostage for several weeks, ending in her murder by toucan sam. only david duchovny was able to solve it, but his role in x files brainwashed the memories so uncle ben remains at large.

the only things worse for your body than sugar, is brown sugar.

the reason bad things happen is because we chase God out of our schools and places of work. then we question why he let these things happen without considering how we've shunned him. sin runs rampant because its easier to take than an unconditional love. true story. billy grahams daughter.

its demon hunting time

all the fantastic smut thats offered, the perfect bait. like a fool i wander in, take it, and fully expect to leave without getting screwed. no such dice on this try. how can i leave when i choose to so ignorantly enter? i'll need some help for certain. i've got it, i just need to take it. sometimes the biggest cause for trouble is gravel. you'd think it'd be in the fall, not when its doing what its sposed to be doing but me not wanting it to do so i take my own way which gets me rearlefttireless. in life, in mental state, wallet based influences, and moral indigestion. tion. it can do a lot, it can kill a lot, and it can make the lamest words awesometion. alexisonfire is passing america. good, cuz theres a whole bag of issues i don't have the power to touch yet. new life goals are approaching. i just have to make sure i know who is sending them.

hey. hey snowyass white world.

i only love you because i can escape you.

the most exciting thing i did was peel and orange at 120 km/h. the tongue was happy.

my big red friend, how far we've traveled together... seems like its been forever.. driving into darkness, the road barely seen. the sunset is left behind, and the dawn will appear for us eventually.

my medium sized red friend, what happened to our proximity? this leapfrog through time has left us distanced. ABS, cruise control, service engine soon, but only if you'd like this to continue.

my little red friend, meet my silver enemy. you're still visible with a squint, but dust in the eye is what i'll call you. if the sun you ever became, i wish a cloud over your face to stay clear.

i just wanted an orange!

the first question of the day

do you think at night, pants get up off the floor and dance?

a happier conspiracy

probably true, most definately going to happen, i'm on the winning side and i get to watch from above. puppies bunnies fluffie clouds and everything nice. fuzzie rainbows. wrapped in ice cream sandwhiches. prozak. home made. with pink food colouring. hugs. ultimate high fives. trampolines. the bottomless hill. whats not listed is everything that makes lose faith. what remains when we die? i'm going to leave something fun behind.

what you call lunacy i call deliverance.

conspiracy!

the U.S of LIES! we'll see who's who when Jesus comes back. till then stand your ground, make your mark, live your live while its yours to live. nothing can help the filth coming in, its all going to nothing until it ends in glory. fascist and untrue, whatever comes is whatever's sent by the one who controls. it seemed like a good idea at the time, but what was sold is no longer able to return. once your on a side, you stay, until its over. so you think you've seen war, its nothing to what he has in store. take a side now because its gonna be soon. take a side now, because freedom is no longer all of the above.

you're just a puppet.

(parties) the only thing original ever were the first words ever written ever. that movie sucked, only because its SOOOOOO TRUUUUUUE and the truth is no fun to listen too. mebe its cuz they're all afraid of dying. yes, that must be it. delusions of mistruth treated with chemicals that numb. theres always a way out. but its what you do with that option of way out that makes you a coward or just a normal dude. fakers galore, nothing but excess. Godless livings, giving way to Godless endings. they know they're all alone. the red squigglies attack always. they know whats right. bitter one day, apathetic always, accepting never. opinions mean squat, BUT impressions mean everything. the only bit of sense is found in the fear of death. counter that with materials, and the grinch is ignited into birth. the prayer seemed simple but it stabbed like a dagger. and the would can only be healed by pushing it inside. emotional, distressing but so descriptive. profanity useful but unescapable. whats really showing with whats being said? nothing its all hidden. blunt and straight to the point but always the second meaning. (wakes up) celebration!

it was the most useful conversation ever

way to be slick. stepped right on that one

yeah.. i know...

well do something about it.

like what?!

something that involves taking a risk. making an effort to step outside of what is familiar and do something different. the payout will be amazing.

or retarded.

with that attitude, most definately. suck it up suzi.

fine, whatever, ok. i'll do it. tomorrow.

now, or i am shaving something on you. or slapping you when you sleep.

why did i move in with you. honestly. your an anus.

MY ANUS will be on your nose if you don't do it!

fine. whatever. ok.

_______ the next day

MOTHER F***ER!

what? how'd it go?

MOTHER F***ER!

i see... do tell.

it went perfect. everything went down just like the predicted outcome of this situation. except the outcome.

you vague ass.

k, so, the phone rang, they picked up, i SPOKE in the ear piece, formally apologized, waited for forgiveness, and then nothing. not a word. just a click, and eventually a beep beep beep of rejection. so my soul wasn't satisfied. so i went over. so. doorbell. nothing.

... now what?

now i wait to get a call back. or a retaliation. i kinda... did some stuff.

like what?

you'll see. they'll see. it was immature but i feel justified in my actions.

so really.... you dropped two f-bombs for no reason. eh?

no i just felt the need to singe your ears with profanity. keep you on edge. wake you up a little.

fair enough.

just like i felt the need to leave a flamer on their porch. old school!

way... to be a dink.

writing too much

obviously. something got triggered and nothing will be the worse for wear other than your patience. i am easily excited. the anticipation for things. snowboarding. sleeping. showering. drawing. its all a part of the experience. marriage. commitment. babies. its all deadly (hahahaaa). i can't believe its already 2. i saw perfection this night. and this perfection made me realize how excited i am. not for her. she is not mine. what is exciting is that MY her will be more than perfection. more than i could possibly imagine. everything i ever hoped and wanted and needed and MORE. this is exciting. this is worth the wait. this is cause for celebration. nothing in the world could be more exciting. snowboarding. sleeping. showering. drawing. its all tertiary. minus ice cream sandwiches. that takes up .2% of perfection. while you will hand the other 99.8% in my life. you already do, and i haven't even met you. thats for nuts real. the little beep tells me its time to stop. i'll allow it.

the good side of the wrong story gone bad

first off comes the wrapper. its party time. the buttons pressed turns it on. it starts off slow, from the inside where no one has seen. slowly it works the way out, starting to pulsate from within. arched back, crimped sides, juices flowing. bursting past the surface. all in good time. 2 minutes is all it needs. dang. your right, we do need more pizza pops.

the stumbler

who knew that glances could knock off an individuals equilibrium. i'm still staggering. i had a line. a perfect line. The perfect line. it would have left you as satisfied as me after one look from you. but i lost it. i lost the perfect line. it was forgotten in an ocean of thoughts. but it was not forgotten. its just beneath the surface, waiting for the right time. when that time comes hunger will be solved and the voiceless will speak. but only the perfect line knows when to come. until then i'll make you smile. hoping to spark a chance to show off the perfect line. but it can't be used until it is sure. if it is wasted, it will go into the pile of a thousand lines that went south. south to shallowville. south to the land where rejection is king. but with you, it'll be different. we shall be royalty in the land where the perfect line could take us. (insert gender specific term of endearment), as long as you laugh at me we'll be ok. better than ok. the time has come for the perfect line to surface. but you use it first. everything i knew to be beautiful has been a lie compared to you.

fools

why does curiosity turn into reality so quickly? not knowing is sometimes better than knowing at all. two unicycles wont' ever work together, while the third wheel is the path least favoured but most traveled, bein the fourth is something that wasn't known to have existed. the only thing in pursuit are the things that will last. the common ground in between is only for temporary experience, selfish impatience and false hope. the end will come faster than you think, and it will be sweeter than all in between. nothing else could be more beautiful, the unison that can be shared. never in doubt, always in joy, reveling in what will be. no rebellion left unspoken, no error left forgiven, the perfect love with a foundation of perfect grace. design or serendipity; it will be more colourful than the fourth of July on Canada day. there is always meaning in things left uninterpreted.

santa isn't real children.

and ANOTHER THING! nah. jk. done my rantability would be lacking today because i am actually bitter therefore someone could get hurt. unless they have been. in which case i say change to my ideals and feel sorry for yourself. that was cocky... and completely unnecessary.. and completely fake, that is not how i roll, bounce, or trolley. TYLER NEEDS SKATEBOARD DECKS! the itch has returned. 90s child, poor child, punk child, abandoned child, fat child, brain child, children of the corn?! creepy. the bitterness has subsided, the droopyness has set in. the droopyness is eyelids. sicko. apple yogurt is not recommended. cuz that means you eat it. more for tyler.... a n a t h a l l o i s a m a z i n g

selfish and me

rantastic. i freaking hate graffiti snobs. when i say you i mean graffiti snobs. your pretentious questioning without cause for answer is bothersome, your confidence assholinating, and you probably are not even that good yourself. your validate a brand for yourself by having 'experienced' the 'ghetto' street art and so you are justifiably better than the rest of us. its not yours to own, to maintain, to judge with. the three words you said made me angrier than the f***ing dog. i'll love you because i have too. your the reason i'm getting into it. to put the judgy eyes back in their burning holes. so you can see the ownership belongs to the wall that is holding its illegal content of love. LOVE. no gang related messages. no territorial emblem or covering for the sake of covering. LOVE. http://untitledname.com/2005/05/jesus-saves this dude has it right. positive messages. always. i dont' care if its defacing property. what does that property stand for? if its not love then it doesn't deserve its 'integrity'. and smokers?! dont' even get me started. your lack of will power is frightening. so your addicted. pony up and quit. yeah its hard, so are a lot of things in life. your own stubbornness is the real addiction. how can you forget that all things are possible through Christ. don't fumigate around me. its gross. go suck toxins out of my lung capacity. country artists!? i'll leave you be. you are respected. gang members, you make me sick. why would you throw away your God given individuality to own a colour on your right sleeve? stabbed is where you'll end up, alone, cold, dead. no one will care because you were just a colour. but you died for a cause. you didn't die for crap. you died so you could have status amongst your peers that end up nowhere. without death the streets are where you'll lie. how can we focus outside our own boundaries when were rotting from the inside? that took a turn towards hatred, and i apologize to the idiots i ranted on. but grow up. theres plenty of life to live without your idiocy hurting my soul caring for you.

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danununununa nununununununa dun. dun dun dun. DUN. mmmm guitar that i am not playing. singing i am, strumming i am not and throwing is partial. yellow paper is softest on the eyes, large in tow with blue ink. only lookin into the eyes of the beautiful one is as calming as caressing that paper with eyes. caressing in the most professional way of course, no sexuality involved. you can't enjoy horizontal fellowship with paper anyways. no holes. the randomness is intensely amazing, no rules restrictions arrrrrrr rated inconveniences that play on the folly of others. tricks and games, grounders and TPing. only hope in scrum will be able to save scrum itself from crap. cripes (high five marc, good word, good word) its a filthy place. no amount of white love could bring down the white hate. unless Jesus got involved. to bad he's pushed out of wherever he's sent to help. filthy. ignorant. self serving. perhaps another Gomorrah? nah. God helped with its destruction. no help needed there. money owns, money kills, my this took a dark turn towards death. its like bitter old fred. got hit in the head. with EMOTION and took off. badly. bad guys are only good guys having foul days.

cleeeearly.

this place must be blessed. everything, everywhere, when someone acknowledges the presence of God it becomes a holy place. i am in all awe and wonder, of the generation that raised us. some did good, some did bad, some did great. most did what they could regardless.
tonight was amazing. i don't often get a chance to hang out with my dad and 2 of his best friends. its official, we never have to grow up. even at that age, with all their life experience and knowledge, they laugh and joke and have fun just like children. i understand fully where i get my humour. no beard though... bloody shame... but i feel young. so very freaking young. how much MORE life my dad has gone through then me. for some reason i was starting to feel old. i have no reason to even fear or ponder that. it may be only down from here, but its the gentlest slope i've never travelled yet. and if it gets steep, i can snowboard down it. no biggie. all i have now is the utmost respect for parents all around, you get highfives always.

bodily function

akchoooo!

i covered my mouth

but now my hand is gross.





there is nowhere to wipe it... how horrid

there is an empty bottle with an apple sticker on it.

unispiiiiired to say the most. failure is the only way to succeed in the end. cheesy contradictions make the best metaphors for realizing apathy. I you my this they it; all reference things directly unsaid or hidden because i don't like confrontations. with myself. its (haha now its cliche to me. i've screwed myself!) all in my head and my head likes to fight. fights fights fights. 3) learn french. and i usually lose, so. thats the ultimate period. so. once you say so, the. its over. nothing more. ----

backpedal

quick! delete it! that was way to close. close enough that the damage was sustained... the curiosity undone with the release. but it remains still. lingering in the dark corner waiting for a chance to get out of its cage. stupid stupid facebook status. collapsing everything i thought could go along with Tyler is.... UGH

Tyler is feeling woe for a fallen comrade (but he's only sleeping)
Tyler is listening to new music
Tyler HAS a new favorite word. its not coagulate, titmouse or dicktionary.
Tyler is already sick of something he thought would be fun
Tyler has arranged for a hit man to take out the easter bunny.
Tyler chose to skip is has or will.
Tyler thinks periods suck
Tyler thinks capitalizing his name is too prideful
Tyler is lacking nutritious sleep.

its an amazing deal of crap of my chest. essay.... drawing... only sculpture and painting remain! also i have a new November 16th resolution. i have 3 goals, which must be attained within a year, aka November 16th 2008. seems like a lot of time. if i complete ONE it will be a success. no stupid 'goals' like get a girlfriend, get a better job, yadayada because ultimately its not completely under my control to take it upon myself to do so. i mean yes, there are different levels of that control BUT you know. you knoooooow.

1)Learn to kickflip.
2)Learn to play enough guitar to play along with a sonicflood song.
3)....

object

since when do they make brick smell good? the gifted illusion, carousel in a can. its not the grain the hides, its the scent that binds the rest into another quickly concluded aerosol cylinder. who flipped the switch? was it you? stomach? you greedy ass? it could not have been the skin so tenderly drenched in a little burning black bean that causes incessant writhing of the innards. the cocaine-esque-ness-ivity of its nature is the nail that hits the temporary need for medication, of an ADD derivative. spelling errors and slow fingers await. the mocking call of destiny choosing words that both put down and lift up, reinforcing the ritual of failure turned happy success. no one KNOWS how ice is formed, it just is, and we must travel north to harvest its coldness. because the freezer is way to far away to formulate that effort without justification. it feels as bad as punching an elderly man in the chest, causing death and asthma, but only to the bilingual oriented left hand. the rest will do, will not rot, will do things that the standardized flakes of mass refuse to reveal a talent for. how easy is it to succumb to gravity when it is slippery. very sneaky indeed Satan.

kamikaze

if i do nothing i can't fail- was once an attitude adopted by a boy who cared too little. eventually that boy grew into traditions of his own and hating traditions that caused him to break his own. the circle continued in its superstitious form until the day came when it not longer mattered whatsoever he did, he would let down one of the rituals he had set in place so as not to break. the world he created was his own prison, and he was bound to rules that contradicted his very being of individuality.
numbers, processions, forms of sin and little clay dogs set the rules and emotion was set to the side of the road named process. the analysis and comparison of everything presented before him took over organic vision, and the more he dwelled on the unneeded, the more mechanical he became. his words became choosy, and self expression and identity were lost upon impressions and the approval of others. life went on, and his prison consumed more of what he could have been. temptation had a voice, unacquainted love pressed against his soul, and alone he went through.
but then he found a friend and everything was good.

don be stupeeed

hey. hey you. shut your face. where do you get off throwing your judgmental nets across the path of innocent youth in love? its not sick, its not perverted, its beautiful and your destroying it. nothing you can say can change what its supposed to be, supposed to represent. your falsifications only contradict your inner nature of love and harmony, and because of your state of frustration you take it out on something the world doesn't see enough of. you saw your chance, and you like a coward took the shot without thinking about what it could be. the transition is no place of your opinions to be ingrained into thought patterns of hatred and jealousy. its probably because, starting off by calling you a name, that starts with an A, ends with an E, and in between says SSHOL, and you take it to heart and try to bring it upon yourself to point out the flaws in perfection. to prevent something as rare as a glimpse of happiness, to step in the way of potential aesthetic emotion, and all for your own pride and hopes and pitiful aspirations of being number 1. and for what. what does number 1 get you that number 2 or 3 or 17 cannot have. nothing number 0. nothing. i pick the last strawberry hoping its the juiciest and tastiest, but instead it has a worm in it, and i guess its you. in a pile of lovely you came out crap. blame your parents, blame your world, don't blame the children who have yet to be tainted. your discernment is weak, your interpretation incorrect, and your reasoning beggarly. YEAH i used a thesaurus to verbally kick your balls. oh thats right, you have none.

fingers

they cause pain
they cause search
they cause flickage. ( here is where i'd draw an arrow to pain; though its only referring to physical pain, not emotional relational or eye-gouging pain)

fingers control many things. lingering masses of nose matter, (IF your so inclined to do so.... an get caught red handed)(but i think your gross), the emotional balance of a follower, (aka poser)(or someonewhoneedsthedirectionofotherstoorienttheirlife), or the level of comfort an ear can feel. (or a nose if the controller is a douche)(either way the hand that flicks is at that moment a big jerk). with one quick point and gesture, you can make someone else driving aware that you are angry, even though they may not give a crap or intentionally invited the gesture into their life. in fact overused, the gesture of finger often contradicts its original intention and comes off as cheesy, hoarky or even lame. fingers allowed me to make up the word hoarky. google that. with your fingers. because they search. by clicking. the mouse. the right ring finger is sexually attracted to the period (.) and is causing overuse and choppiness. the only thing my pointer finger is attracted to (not sexually though, it lost its drive in a horrid electrical poking accident) electrical sockets. fingers can be stubby, long and pointy, smooth or just old. big knuckles. fingernails are creepy. think about it. what purpose do they serve? what would an entirely smooth finger look like? what would it FEEL like?! i'm scaring myself with these late night questionings of the human finger. dont' even get me started on elbows. i think God designed us to mess with my head. THIS IS WHY I SHOULD SLEEP MORE

music isn't dead.

ANALYSIS!

thats the word i was searching for during the entirety of my last post.

this isn't just goodbye, this is i can't stand you ( not you, just what +44 says to a girl that they i guess don't appreciate anymore)

yeah!

the high continues to the point that a 10 page essay research paper has put joy into my heart. its a process, and being process oriented, i find the opposite of rage or frustration towards it. specially on a subject so fun, self portraiture! http://lightproofbox.com/blog/?p=61 i found this dude's self portrait, an have spent the last 28 minutes engrossing myself in his fantabulous work. he's most definately an artist, and therefore worthy of subject in my paper. i get to, thats right, GET to admire this work and pick it apart for whats its worth and find its value and question what its about an then i GET to present my own self portrait in a description based on my takings from john watsons pic. i think. thats what i get from the topic presented to me. and i am OK with that. unless i have to draw it... i won't, it'll be a pic, but i'm sure i can pull of a ten double spaced essay about the passions/fears of this particular self portrait. yeah thats my sunday thus far. proposed photosesh with tristan later, heck yes, then probly s'more writing, creative or informatory, or essayish, or wall scribbling, either way grammar and spelling will be atrocious. run on scentence! do you feel condemned?

the wonder

theres nothing else i'd rather be doing. all else is moot compared to the freedom i can feel for the price of being poor. but i'll take it, because doing something that peaks the fun charts is worth being poor foor. 'dopecity' no doubt. satan has no place on a snowy hill. the point where the sky meets the ground and there is no prejudice between what is right and wrong, or even good or bad, there is only a scale of where people are at, but everyone is loving it (so i guess good and bad exist. but life goes on.) the point is why save for something i dont' know about when i could spend on something i know exists. spend could be anything from time, money, no just time an money. but i want too. and i need too. and i WILL muhahaha. the next is hockey. this is far less jovial, and much more competitive and far less accessible (for some reason) because of the lack of participants that i know of. saddening, but i'll settle for skating. this is tired. i am tired. but its the tired of pure satisfaction, knowing that somethings may be lacking in life, but other passions preside over those lackings thus making them obsolete. i wonder if something ministry driven could come from this... i know there is a way. i need more dedication. and research. and practice. and resources....

for everything thats temporary, this peaks it. but something that peaks at that scale is something worth taking advantage of. there is no question i am presenting, as well as no answer i'm sending, just pure thought and awe of what could be. and what will frikken hurt tomorrow...

proyohobosotowlowsewbow meow

i did not give myself time to think today. i cannot decide if i like it.
its like the braincells took off in jet packs.
and they just got back.
where ever they went, they got sleepy.
and THEY seem to like it where they went.
but tomorrow i will trap them.
with a helmet.

a letter to myself 45 minutes before writing this

dear me.
its time, its time, and oh yes its time. time to be happy, take joy in what you have, the friends you have, the friends you will make an appreciate the friends you've forgotten. they've all impacted your life in some way and you are to be eternally grateful for that. keep on lovin. love love love. disassemble- nay, incinerate your shelf, destroy your wall, and shatter your pedestal. the things you've been holding onto and letting yourself sink your head into are matters that shouldn't be affecting your happiness. take your passion and execute with it. you know that vancouver trip? did good things for you. keep that up. up the trip, care less about whats temporary and invest into memories. find metatron and listen to him. he's the only one who can help you grow. you can try with friends, but don't imitate, investigate, find what suits you because you know you, but also, your friends know you even more than you. LISTEN TO MORE FIVE IRON FRENZY. turns out they make you really happy, no matter what. music moves you, it is a large chunk of what your soul gets driven by. the rest is relationships, all encompassed by your Messiah. her, she, they, mean nothing untill you meet/realize HER, SHE, and then they won't matter. you'll still love them, you'll still chill and have good times with them, but no one will fill you like SHE does. just keep HIM first. always first, then the rest.

hang loose me, hang loose.

numb3rs (numbers in words are gay)

98% of males who get sacked bleed a little.
74% of people who lie get whats coming to them with bigger more devious lies.
34% of anyone who has been hit by a vehicle moving at 55 km an hour usually die.
1% of females who sack guys don't go to hell.
37% of people who take random road trips have more exciting bed adventures.
100% of people who like chevelle are rockin awesome.
50% of all people have thought of killing a puppy.
46% of males who have tried paint as a food group have liked it.
88% of males have tried paint as a food group.
100% of males who have tried paint as a food group are idiots.
99% of girls are evil.
99.1% of a girl can be amazing if she ignores her evil.
100% of men understand fully why girls are amazing.
2% of males are men.
43% of broccoli is bad. the rest is actually amazing.
76% of puking circumstances are caused by sacking related instances.
79% of people who like sex pastries feel satisfied at least an hour longer than those who didn't have any sex pastries, and 4 hours longer than those who dont' eat any pastries.
26% of 26 cents is 26% of a dollar. which is wrong.
87% of this snot was bullcrap.
the other 13% was also bullcrap.

fontastic

also, the bunny turned into a coyote. and it still dove into the dark bushes.

rEVOLution

its the me's the you's the i's the us's and the you's that attract attention from the them's they's and those's. theres not thought in action and most definately no action in a droughting emotional roller coaster. just mental terrorism, leading to social errorism. if that counts as a rhyme, zeitgeist is a happy album. happy doesn't always mean good, nor does emo mean bad, but same goes for the other goings. exodus the moving beast of man made material, alliteration to the prior hours. 84 go left, 16 go right. we all end up in the same place anyways, but 98 go right, 3 go left. its probably a good idea not to turn the page, dot the period or cross the mistake. it may be amateur hour but you shine like the best anyone's ever heard. i'll let you be my bane if i can be twitch in your eye. my favorite things will sit like stones right after your gone. cold intentions lie in the darkest corners of eyes that type faster than fingers can move to respond or brain to think its a stupid thing to say. gotta get it all down before i forget and the negative rolls in....

song of this minute: after your gone, blindside.

life less but is

all smiles and sunshine- oh yes, oh yes. rise against rules... why i didn't choose to listen to them at 2 in the morning for my 3 hour singing session is beyond me... i was far to suffocated by awesomeness with trapt, anathallo and stabilo to get punkishly curious i guess. trains provide the best sleep REM's. brentwood-dalho-center st says so. cuz i'm still awake an its 11:23. balls crazy. i have commissions( ) to do but i don't feel it right now. toby mac made himself a good drawing for andrews b'day. that boy is back tho i say. mostly. i missed his friendship, and while absolutely never will we ever chill again without the presence of his other %75 percent, when we by chance happen to see each other at home he's himself. well, mostly. well is underused for its variant usages. jef told me that chocolate milk could be laced with blood. cow blood. to that, i say cheese could be laced with semen. bull semen. what now goldfinger! sonicflood is knocking on the door of my already partly opened door, but i won't let them in because its not the right knock. Finch got it right, and for 3 minutes they have it. the wanderlust is still growing and rampant and not fading anytime soon, only the ambitions for further exploration in emily will succeed to dwell in my brain. not like calgary sucks. i loooooooooooooooove calgary. i just love being away. having some place to come back too. having people miss you and get excited that you come back. or having people excited that your excited that you got excited enough to leave. it makes sense.. to a pin point. australia clearly isnt' far. but its also not soon. at all. but what IS soon is small group. conviction owns me... it'll drive the passion nail deeper into my heart for learning and growing and developing intensity for the one thing i should be living for among everything else. everything else comes second. or fifth. in recent discussions it was pointed out/realized i do not have a dominant personality. i embrace it as different, as that is who i am and changing that would change me. it doesn't make me less strong. it makes me an observer, someone who will talk when is needed to talk. nothing needs to be proven to myself. unless this writing it down is being proven... either way i feel better. lacking nothing but everything to gain makes an odd combo which is why its unnecessary to the fullest capacity of emotion. whooaaaaaao. i haven't ranted in awhile...

dear whoever

brb, went to the ocean.

edit posts: no

that sheen of light looks an awful lot like a blade. but not awful. tis happy. happy like a bunny with a rainbow tail, but not gay, just rainbow. happy. chad says be, so lets BE. be be be be be be be.

a letter to reaffirm where i stand in this battle

dear satan. ( i lowercase your name because you are not worth a capital.)
we are no longer speaking. your feeble attempts to get me to stumble fall short of what some could call effort. no skantily clad daughter of yours will feast on my brain any longer. no horrid thought you throw into my head will burrow itself farther and cause me to lose emotion. no longing for desires that would cripple me. you are a coward, and i hate you. i stand on the side with Jesus holding my hand, and nothing you can do will ever take that from me. through Christ i can do all things. CHRIST it feels good i can say that. your just jealous you were selfish and thought more of what could be than what was meant to be. enjoy your time while you can, you'll never win. i've read the end, and let me remind you it doesn't look very good from your side. aware if it or not you are no longer welcome in my home or life. theres only enough room for one in my heart, and you are not it. get angry. get sad. get it out of your head that we belong together. i have seen the glory of God in my life because i believe. anything you touch or make me do is poison. poison is something that doesn't belong in a body. it kills it. it brings death. you are death, and i have life. therefore we are no longer speaking. i am a servant of a higher master, and that master feeds me and cares for me and gives me all i need. what you strive to take away. you say you'll make me master, when i already am one.

Sincerely,

Tyler.

Screw off and leave the little children alone.

burn out

burn, burn out bright. yes switchfoot, i shall, and it shall be glorious. YOU keep cleaning up the mess you made, i'll encourage you from the side. because thats how i roll. how i hate that term... humans do not roll! unless on carriage or fat person. i'd say we sway. in and out. of life and thought, like a iranian rug being cleaned. lacking ambition is something that can be remedied with simple focus and attention to future. happiness can be attained by choosing to ignore that remedy, and misery can be completed by choosing yourself over anything else. yoda spells wisdom S L E E P. mas. more. mucho. buenooooo. personally 4 hours is plenty. it just makes everything that much more comfortable. nothing is ok and everything is fine. the contradiction made clear is what seeks to be determined by rivaled emotions battling over a prize not willing to be won. a little outside the line is where the colour can be most appreciated, and it is where i dive to cover up and give attention to perfection. it will never be perfect, it will only be as good as the ink left in the marker. the wall is smaller this day.

freedom snapper

the little red x that closes everything, never lets me get a thing done. too many buttons to push, too many strings to detach, and too many chords to assemble. the chains i bound myself too have never known this freedom to wander, blunder and float about as if in space but massy. the freedom given by choices ignored creates the state of sneeze that only a blog can handle. its a cop out, you all have one, and now i do so i don't let the snot mix with the rules of the FB. we can speak of it, if you wish, but we won't acknowledge it as a lifesucker any longer. the little red squigglies make a point to say i'm wrong. same with the carton of empty brown cow on top of the fuze glass. it makes sense because i'm looking at it, but in the former view i will forget very easily. its gonna be weird and its gonna be pure snot and if you get it, congrats you deserve the triple-to-low five. its amazing if you let me show you, if Tif lets it out. i'll make it count, because i'm sick of the wall i hit or break, if i ignore the wall it'll most likely still be there when i turn around again. there's always walls, but this one is stretching beyond what i can see. i guess i'll just paint on it.