reasons to not do dishes

i wish that i didn't need your permission to get the gunk out of my eye. there is a chance i can bruise like a banana, but i haven't the capacity to give it a try. my hands can't ever just stay still- even if i command them to settle down they continue to move on the inside. and i hate that i can burn my hands with tapwater.. my feet are around the same... if the focus isn't on them. being clean isn't a standard worth following for them. barefoot and free, willing to connect with anything regardless of what happens to them, because they are aware of how they can heal. i dislike how my mind perceives time. it's too fast, and that makes it wanty, and even worse, needy. as far as i can judge there is a timer counting down. i can pretend there is a way to bend it, to pry it from it's foundation. for understanding's sake, it's absolute. my mind continues to ponder ways around the standard... the expected. and my eyes gather up the mess that comes out of contemplation. my hands continue to shake, my feet flee and my mind wonders. my heart takes on all these traits and defines itself as the reason.

because inspiration causes me to think this way. the list way.

(apologies to alexandra, to whom this is not a vile gloating situation, but rather a nostalgic information session from me to me with ya'll as innocent bystanders)

in remembrance of previously occuring events of awesomeness, i must try to calculate my favorite concerts of all time. david letterman style.

10. newsboys, calgary 1999
9. the trews, calgary 2007
8. switchfoot, calgary 2007
7. brand new, calgary 2007
6. chevelle, detroit, 2004
5. deftones, calgary 2009
4. blindside II, detroit 2005
3. radiohead, vancouver 2008
2. muse, detroit 2005
1. muse II, calgary 2010

i also must take notice of bands i haven't seen, that i strongly desire to see.

foo fighters
linkin park
swell season
attack attack
august burns red
mutemath
sick puppies
thrice
the classic crime
one republic

oh dang, now i've replaced satisfaction with more anticipation! i suck.

wooden fool pilot

- it's the difference between profanity and cursing
that which makes us ignorant and pathetic
bemused with the thought of making us last.

a lonely soul wanders unceasingly, taking notice of his broken feet..
his weary soles untethered and told, bent within the story of his journey..\he whispers, to no one listening but anyone watching,
those words that had been long since forgotten..
"remember me now and remember me then, remember me forever, this world will never end"..
and so he continued his forever walk, along broken paths and strong gusting winds..
ignoring the cold that burns to the bone, forever remembering, never forgetting..

- it's the difference between unwilling and dying
that which makes us vulnerable and frail
weakened by a world of all things untrue.

a categorized lie uproots and infects, circulating through the dismantled system..
from one to the next, the lie slighly crept, tearing away at all who were there..
it whispers, through the grime that lay afoot,
everything one needs to hear in order to dismiss or readjust opinion..
"no one is no one, as i am someone, and all will listen, to what i have done"..
so it crept and creeped as it stole and it thieved, unjust ideas leaked to an unprotected world..
destroying the circuits of so many souls, forever consuming, never breathing..

- it's the similarity between birth and death
that which makes us laugh and cry
engrossed in the clarity revealed by the light.

a child lay wide eyed, gazing through a window..
at no folley of her own, witness to the unbelieveable and the unspoken..
she whispers, afraid to shatter the silence of a moment,
a crowd now gathers past the weathered glass..
"be here again tomorrow, or forever i'll be, wanting your presence but afraid that you'll flee"..
she then got up and walked away, yearning for future from an unforgiving past..
embracing the feeling of an alternate rest, forever receiving, never neglecting..

- it's the sameness between wanting and providing
that which makes us stable and unique
filled with joys we, in all things, call human.

on with the things

yet another edition of things that drive me bananas (one being the term bananas, best defined as a wonderfully tastey long yellow fruit in plural, or as crazy- in the good way)

graffiti on stop signs or other variety of traffic signs. nothing says stop like a stop sign with 'voltron' written fantastically underneath with some glorious shine-wrecking ink. giant sigh of happy.

urinal troughs. enough with the segregation! let us unite as man and release excess waste into a long skinny metal bathtub and watch it go oh so productively down the single drain- together.

the beer after realizing the first one wasn't cold enough. it's been 20 or so minutes, and that +3 temperature has done another positive number on the effect of the beer. taste, thou has sanctuary.

lotioning of the entire body after a shower in the winter months in calgary. i hate dry skin so much, my mental process is often laced with profanity. after lotioning however, i smell awesome, and i FEEL even more awesome.

underoath after 2 1/2 hours of football. cool down music.

peanut butter jelly sandwiches that have been heated up by being in a warm car. warm melty sticky and delicious. crumbs can't even go anywhere because everything is so perfectly moist. oh my goodness this makes me so happy.

seeing someone buy one of my paintings. though i didn't have a chance to talk to them... it still felt really really good to see one go. happy trails bloody nosed actuality.

humans using cat-like techniques and mannerisms. whether it be a gigantic pounce in football, someone licking the back of their hand every so carefully, or having someone gingerly sniff my ear, i'm happy with literal metaphor.

tattoos.

n. e. g. a. t. i. v. e.

it's that pounding in the chest. one glimpse one word one touch. nausea dispelled from the stomach but into the joints that maintain structural support. we've all felt it before but i've never felt it on this scale. the biggest insecurity isn't exposure or repercussion, but having to contain what i'm holding inside. damn the shame. boom another blast, this one even worst than the last. concussion disposition...

reese puffs would have an answer

we've been sitting here for ten minutes now. she's not fascinating, but she's keeping me curious and i like that. i'm not that big on mystery, but making discoveries about someone keeps me wanting; answers, her questions, more... it's too soon to tell what i want but i know there is no harm in finding out if it's her or not. i won't let it get to a point where it's gonna enter the danger zone. playing it safe isn't for someone with nothing to lose.

no red flags yet. several yellows, but the best part about a neutral colour is it's subjectivity to change. i can mold yellow. i can make it green. we're definitely on different levels of ideology, but it's at a place where they aren't opposing- though i wouldn't say they are complimenting each other either. i've got time to figure out where we each stand on the matters that define who we are, so there's no worry or anxiety surrounding whether or not i'll have to compromise something to get something else i'm wanting. i shouldn't be thinking like that, but i know i've got three minds to battle with inside of me.

we get our food and enter the stage of half focus on conversation and the other half focused on what we are eating... she's growing on me. there are little things she's doing that drive my mind mad with inquisitive fantasy... the way she twirled her fork around her finger like an asian academic holding a pen; spurred by culinary excitement and anticipation for her meal.. what kind of female bad-ass does that. ninja skills and survival abilities are at the forefront of my continually intrigued questioning mind. she also mentions something about sustainability and living off the land... a farming goddess endowed with awareness of a simpler life. yes, she's growing on me.

intrigue turns into infactuation, and my mind starts taking me to places i always consider too quickly. where this could go, what this could be, when me and her could be she'n i. i keep a tight reign on my tongue and this is exactly when it changes from a no pressure curiosity into a careful dance around maintaining momentum and integrity. it's ashame and no relief to be in this stage, and i quickly regret caring what happens in the near future. there will be a time and place for that but for now i need to be concerned about being exactly who i am and not who i think she wants to see me as. i wonder if she's playing the same games in her head and i dismiss my games for being no fun in a consentual situation.

for the first times our hands touch as we she hand talks through a story for emphasis and the gravity of her conclusion allows for her fingers to gingerly rest near mine, fingers slightly touching. out of fear for not having this opportunity again i don't move my hand, and slowly but surely and very intentionally move my thumb overtop of her index finger and hope to everything good in the world she doesn't move away. the miliseconds move by at an agonizing pace just before explosions of sheer joy spread up my arm and into my chest for one gigantic beat. i blink and pretend it's no big deal but inside i'm fairly sure my heart is screaming. she giggles and looks away and i imagine her heart screaming as well, which makes me smile sheepishly and look away. it's never happened like this before and i know it won't ever happen like this again and that's all i need to keep on savoring the moment. it's by no means any form of relational definition, but at this time in this moment i know we've both acknowledged the connection we've been beating around for weeks.

the fickleness residing in my heart-mind is telling me to ask my brain-mind if this is really gonna work out, while telling my penis-mind to keep out of trouble (for now). i've brought the conversation onto a transitional plateau, and i feel the feeding part of the evening is coming to an end. the wonder of anticipation is all i'm feeling and wondering she's at all still connected to the hand she's been holding and gently caressing for awhile now. the excitement is gone but the energy is still there. the constant questions still encircle my focus but already i feel a victory for my pride. i don't dare think about the ways i could screw this up even though there are several thousand, 35% of them being super fun- but i don't dare even think about the future and love and how adorable our babies would be. such thoughts are subject to word diarrhea. the danger of this stage is the danger surrounding her constant ability to turn my mouth into an ass. we get up and leave before any action can be put in place of inner perception.

we came seperately which seemed super cool and casual at the beginning, but now as we agree to head somewhere else together i'm angry at the fact we have to be absent from another for awhile. it DOES create an opportunity for a glorious temporary goodbye, but i tell myself i'll work on that for the real goodbye and settle for a hand squeeze and drag. i'm all smiles as i get into my car but hide them behind trying to look nonchalant and manly. i fail and blush and know she sees it but am happy she's even looking to see if i'm trying to do all this. all i can do to contain myself is sing as we drive off towards our communal destination.

the numbers of a sabbath day

1- the number of good ideas carried out, like geek champions.
2- people involved.
3- times urinated.
4- second winds.
5- variety of drinks consumed.
6- cat meows an average hour.
7- burritos.
8- cuddle fantasies.
9- exquisite new quotes only me'n jef will laugh at.
10- literal laugh out louds.
11- shots of rum.
12- realizations of how awesome a dream come true is.
13- too many team rocket experiences.
14- days in planning and anticipation for this day.
15- hours total of watching (9:20am - 12:20am with a break to purchase crap food and le sauce).
37- episodes of pokemon completed. 45% of the first season completed.

no apologies, regrets, or second guessing of pursuing nostalgia.

shrug life (pecha kucha presentation)

to find out where you belong isn't to find out where you're from- that isn't a contract written from birth, but merely a place in which existence came into fruition. where you decide to go is based on what you decide to do and letting that take you to where you need to be. we all know it isn't the destination that's important in the end anyways.

but if it's destination you are after, that perfect little halo of an environment trapped in an idealistic mind, don't forget to remember the journey you came on, even discovering the newfound goal you're bound to set out attaining. never mind the fuss or the worry, make the most of how you get there and who you meet along the way.

everyone has met someone dead set on achieving their goal(s). take in their passion and see them as someone worthy of studying. learn from them all you can and make sure they leave their mark on you, so one day you can leave your mark on someone else. whether it's big and bold and rude, or small and fragile and intimate, write on each other what you would want people to someday see.

laugh like an idiot. flip out on the things that aroused you as a child, and play the fool whenever you can. make an ass out of yourself and throw dignity away like it was a pair of pants you accidentally crapped yourself in. you don't have to tell anyone, but grin like you're the only one who knows and then keep that embarassing secret and pretend it's joy coming from what used to be vanity.

steal something lovely and never return it. but only if it's a heart. let it be cute, untethered and justified- and flaunt it like you're proud of it. there's no police for that kind of thievery. you can spend your winnings on whatever you like, as long as you share the reward with the next generation. baby thieves stealing baby hearts creating more babies unashamed of their crimes.

after all is mostly said and done, rest like you've finished it. rest into a progressive state of glorious dreams and visions, and receive them like they are real. don't pretend to fake what you imagine when it's all got a source. sure you're screwed up sometimes but the base of your soul comes from a heart of love. awaken pretending you are still dreaming and live like it.

be a bonified bad-ass. you give a rat's ass but pretend like you don't. paint and piss on the world like people actually care what you think, then disregard what THEY think as nothing more than frivolous opinion. and then take their suggestions to heart, and let them know when it turns into action. let yourself be shaped based off shaping other people. love sharpens love, like iron on iron.

run as fast as you can but with both eyes open. there's lots to see on the way to your destination and sometimes the littlest joys can be the biggest. if you're looking forward all the time you'll miss the chance to clumsily run headlong into something that'll change your perspective forever. enjoy the speed and the crash and the ruin, and repair it with tools you aren't sure how to use.

find the explosion in the things you didn't know were flammable, and abuse them with compassion. you might find the greatest work of art is something you can't control, but merely set into motion. understand the accidents as the consequence to seeking out truth; coincidence is nothing when you are asking for it. take the chance, get slapped, get wet, get messy and get educated beyond mere comprehension.

take off the mask. see the stains underneath and the stories you can tell through each of the experiences that provided them. to strangers you'll be a wreck but to your true family you'll be seen for who you are. you won't be any more genuine than when you are shamelessly vulnerable. you can't feel bad for drawing on their faces when they've seen what you've let them do.

create a method for discovery- forget what you've done then identify it later as genius. own nothing and tramp around like your home is in a distant land. but invite them over for juice if they inquire- sharing is the strongest interaction you'll find. don't ignore intrigue and invest in the spontaneous and curious. who put that fist there?! journey tangent #1.

wonder, ponder, venture and question. don't settle for an answer when it only get's you half excited. stir shit up to get to the real goodies, the real explanations; make up something ridiculous so you can see if anything has anything saved for just an occasion. peer out into nothing with a friend and pretend it's everything. congratulations on the intrigue you've forced into those looking over your shoulder.

holy crap it's a friggen mountain. i knew climbing this dreadful steepness into an ominous myst was a great idea. nobody ever questions a gentle slope and a sunny day, but as soon as you throw a lateral challenge with a hint of moisture at someone unprepared to step in dog poop, you can see who you are truly compatible with. ask the questions that make you blush at the potential answer..

embrace the cliche like it was something magical before it was discovered by the masses as acceptable. you know what and who you belong to or with, so express it in a way specific to the way you feel. it could be stupid and intellectually naive, but if it's real and intentional then who's gonna be laughing when you ride off into the glorious sunset full of the good kind of pride.

yeah. ride it. nobodies judging so go bananas. high five a mirror for the extra thrill of self satisfaction. just imagine what it'd be like to be this uninolved with vain conceit AND enjoying a little nostalgia with someone with the same engaging priorities. there would be no need to sleep. you could wear a bandana and not feel like you belong to a gang. the possibilities...

victory. soon. when you're so close to the top you may as well take a peek at where you've been and how far you've come. for the love of metaphorical gravity don't let go, just in case you haven't woven a web of security behind you. a nervous nelly you are not if you've travelled this far, just be aware that next to adding to the next generation, closure is as good as it gets.

tell everyone. even if they aren't listening. even if you are sick to the bones of telling it, fake it so hard even the ones not listening become inspired. continue the cycle, so that they may experience the shamelessness of losing your shorts off of a diving board. if it turns out you are the only one laughing in the end, you've probably won anyways.

demand perfection in your pursuits. destroy the associations of standard expectation and squeeze the life out of rocks. sit like you know you look good and then high five that mirror one more time for knowing that kind of confidence is what makes the best pictures. then high five the cameraman for allowing you the opportunity. tip destiny real well with your excess awesome.

then rest one more time like a champion. enjoy the legendary sleep of someone driven to use the word 'mega' in every sentence that they can. bring it back and let it go. pass out and wake up not remembering where you fell asleep, but knowing you earned it. you think paul rudd sleeps this good? he probably does but now so do you.

leave the light on without taking up electricity. wherever you go, wherever you've been and whatever time it was, leave something of you. maybe you'll come back one day and relive all the excitement you brewed when you experienced everything that age had to offer. nobody will be mad if all that's left behind is secrets involving happiness. but don't keep those as secrets, that'd be awful of you.

report abuse of the system

sanctified in rejection- taking the things we call impossible and throwing them against the wall. the 3 r's with a twist, roles we all play within the system. reducER. reusER. recyclER. titles and positions, granted sole privilege to take the forseen future and refocus it against the tide of destruction. if the future is the truth then the present is the question that asks 'who dictates truth'. we weren't made to last, but we weren't made to fly either.

if time had a metaphor it'd be a pendulum. if time had a face it'd be that of a baby koala

back in time for one last time, finding the last place you'll sit.
we believed you when you said it was safe; that we'd find peace and satisfaction in our new desires. you lied- but we fell for it.

matt kearney just ran away with my heart. thief! i cried. but he didn't listen. and i didn't want him to.

grieving in the sadness of something so new it's failed to yet comprehend it's purpose- but fleeing in the direction of wreckless abandon to spite everything it's come to know so prematurely. embrace the contraction and neglect what's expected, refuse the short cut but run through the scenic route; break what's just been fixed then reject what's still expected. pause pause pause. i'll be cocky now because sometimes i've gotta do what is necessary to feel the morphine addled control side of my inhibitions, if i'm ever truly going to let them go. is the balance necessary for letting go entirely? fleeting moments of understanding released unto the former expectation of all consuming 'need'. keep the flag at half mast because if it get's any higher i'll burn it to the ground. the pole from which it waves is what set's the ships out to sea anyways. the arrogance isn't worth the payout of a prideful shit.

have we reached the top?

we won't have to bury ourselves.
where did these scratches come from? a not so distant memory of something that hasn't occurred, but the remnants of it's existence still dwindle the things we claim to see if we would only look hard enough. my flounder and my folly, listing idly by, side by side and conjoined in their attempts to understand. i understand- but that's a luxury best suited for the elements of my body that can handle it.

it's time to explore but at least i know the direction i want to travel in.

i dare you. i double dog dare you.

i have a new favorite game. it involves doors, and the closing and opening of doors. the object of this game is to maintain the door's open-ness, whilst closing; meaning that while it's sliding shut, i like to attempt to slam my fingers in the crack, prolonging it's ability to allow my passage. it's risky and dangerous... one small foul up could result in bruised fingertips caused by poor timing, or i could get my fingers in then fail to exert the force needed to open the door back up, ending my 4 years 11 months and 3 days non-finger-smashing-spree. it's a record i'm willing to put on the line to save myself the 0.5(some measurement of energy) it takes to touch and pull on the door handle. that's no fun. anyone can do that. not anyone can stare a closing door in the face and say 'wait! not just yet you door'. feel your blood pumping; the triumphant entry through every threshold that dare hold you back another second. try it.

i've also started not saying thank you or i'm sorry to fellow canadians, regardless of their help or impedence to any situation. i'm distrupting the norm of politeness, and i expect to see results. though i'm just kidding... i couldn't withhold on our nation's most prized item of identity. that'd be straight up rude.

DOOR JAMMING GO!

vapor

another dystopia in the same future, the world ending for the last time. the rallying cries of the forgotten and the weak etched in the dust, meant to blow away and to never remain. apparently there is no future and time will be left behind, a symbol of status for those willing enough to remember the privilege. nothing will be precious and the littlest things will become everything. i dream of these times and how to survive, on what to survive and with who to survive... but mostly with how to be different. i see a boy waving a flag of redemption, writing love on the walls and leading people back into the ways of true humanity. when all is lost, what opportunity there will be for truth to be found... the flag has no meaning beyond a measure of unity- no competitive allegiance or 'ism' taking away the purity of the symbol- just to remind us of the things that made us special and unique. the writing on the wall a call on the memory in the true ideals of civilization, equality, a rip off of beautiful things made more sudden by the reality of their loss- encouragement, sharing, not dog eat dog but dog help dog- creatively placed back in sight for the ones that need it the most. taking the truth for free when everything else has it's cost. despite it all, hope in all

one more.... a.more...

let's take the time to understand what we have and enjoy it there. what we can to do limit our capacity is where we will be able to step into a place of sharing everything we have with each other. we can want only what we need, and let the rest expire into the darkness, following the lines of excess to those who would feast on the hungry.