After years of indecision, I have finally come to the conclusion that the Marble Garden theme is my favourite Sonic the Hedgehog tune of all time. Oh, the nostalgia and bliss it educes! The runners up are all so close, but... this one still take the cake. To celebrate having finally chosen my very favourite Sonic tune of all time, I have written some lyrics that I believe compliment the tune nicely:
dice the pillars on a water table
gamble away your insurgent squirrel
put your mind on a pine cone platter
lest the pickled mime steals your ratchet
And all the furry woodland creatures rejoiced!
Aug 30, 2005
Aug 29, 2005
It was such a "nice" sunny Monday morning today that I felt like grabbing a steak knife and filleting the neck of the closest available heliophile.
Low Points of Day:
*Waking and getting up by necessity at 8 in the morning after not managing to fall asleep until three hours earlier. i.e., being tired as hell.
*Having to lug my computer back up to the apartment.
*The sun.
*Following a slow-moving truck with a wide load halfway back to Hilo.
*Seemingly being unable to curb my hunger with little bites to eat whenever I actually have a chance to grab them.
*Two morons having a loud conversation in the hallway of university classroom building. When I passed by, one of them followed up an obnoxious, knobjob-sounding laugh with "THAT'S AWESOME!" I wanted to uncoil his intestines and play a bloody match of tug-of-war with them.
*Women.
*Update: Seeing a bumper sticker on a car that read, "my son is serving God and country in Iraq... please pray for him."
High Points of Day:
*Razed in Black
*Ty the Tasmanian Tiger
*Hurricane Katrina
*Update: Getting Sonic Gems Collection
Hopefully, the high points might eventually catch up to the low points in quantity.
Anyone who obstructs my path today is likely to become the unwitting recipient of my 18-point treatment plan. And to think, it isn't even Tuesday yet!
Low Points of Day:
*Waking and getting up by necessity at 8 in the morning after not managing to fall asleep until three hours earlier. i.e., being tired as hell.
*Having to lug my computer back up to the apartment.
*The sun.
*Following a slow-moving truck with a wide load halfway back to Hilo.
*Seemingly being unable to curb my hunger with little bites to eat whenever I actually have a chance to grab them.
*Two morons having a loud conversation in the hallway of university classroom building. When I passed by, one of them followed up an obnoxious, knobjob-sounding laugh with "THAT'S AWESOME!" I wanted to uncoil his intestines and play a bloody match of tug-of-war with them.
*Women.
*Update: Seeing a bumper sticker on a car that read, "my son is serving God and country in Iraq... please pray for him."
High Points of Day:
*Razed in Black
*Ty the Tasmanian Tiger
*Hurricane Katrina
*Update: Getting Sonic Gems Collection
Hopefully, the high points might eventually catch up to the low points in quantity.
Anyone who obstructs my path today is likely to become the unwitting recipient of my 18-point treatment plan. And to think, it isn't even Tuesday yet!
Aug 28, 2005
Open the blinds.
I got blackout curtains a couple days ago!
Unfortunately, it involved a precarious excursion to Wal-Mart. I feel like a hypocrite for preaching against such an establishment, yet strolling in there whenever I am seeking a commodity that I wouldn't know where to look for anywhere else. It's lamentable that the "if you build it, they will come" adage applies to Wal-Mart in such impeccable fashion. The entire store is a monument of ugliness, a temple of gluttony and greed, a monastery of lazy, overweight slobs thanks to general lack of education, willpower, and abundant availability of terrible processed fatty foods. The store represents the entire country of America in a confined little acre lot, and there are thousands of stores nationwide just like that one. And with a McDonald's built right into the store, people can look forward to waddling right over there for dinner just after they've finished shopping. Gotta love the American way, huh?
...No, not really. The utter lack of culture or character to be found in that store; the way it reflects America at large; the way the smell of McDonald's grease at the entrance for some reason reminds me of what a hopeless, delusional retard the president is and how many pathetic droids believe in his lies and constant spewing of bullshit all over his throne... it's very depressing. Stepping into the store from outside in the town of Hilo is like stepping into an entirely different world. That could help explain why I often feel like I'm dreaming when I walk into Wal-Mart at night. I transgress from the muddy amber street light halos in a sleepy city into a store illuminated brightly as a microscope slide. From there, I could be anywhere--Kansas, Florida, perhaps even Flint, Michigan. In any case, having achieved my purchasing goal, I promptly trotted out of the store and into my charming little sanctuary on the other side of the river, thankful it didn't involve bounding over endless grids of wheat fields.
My excursion later that evening was far more inspirational; it quickly erased all remaining traces of my Wal-Mart blues. It was as simple as riding my bicycle into the night, down along main arteries that were queerly desolate in the afterhours. When I caught sight of the half moon ascending above the bay, I was seized by blissful sensations that sent shivers coursing through my body. Nothing affects me quite like the moon. Any hint of weariness I had been feeling prior was quickly eliminated as I watched her rise above the cottony clouds. As I circled around Banyan Drive, my imagination kicked itself into high gear.
This street, which wrapped itself around a small golf course inland and a few hotels and restaurants along the coast before looping back to the main highway, was relatively active that evening. Plenty of parked cars filled the lots, and plenty of humans loitered around them. I heard a decent breakbeat minus obnoxious rapping about thug lyfe, which is pretty impressive considering the sort of crap that's standard around here. I could have stopped and weaseled my way in to see what was going on, but I honestly did not have enough interest. Instead, I could not help but imagine how things in that particular area would have been in my ideal world... the world that I knew was far too good for reality but fit together perfectly in my mind.
The road was closed to vehicular traffic at both entrances from the highway. Those with cars had to park by the boat ramps, but bicycles were allowed past the barricades. Even at the entrance to Banyan Drive, I was an involuntary but very receptive participant in an aural orgy of music that I knew would truly move and infect me. I didn't know exactly what I was getting into, but I was deeply intrigued, slowly following a crowd down the streets. The air of anticipation was intense. It could be seen in everyone's friendly faces, their jovial body movements. I few people looked at me and smiled, as if to say, "welcome to our celebration, friend." And I did feel welcome, very much so. The slogans and graphics on the clothing of many depicted things I knew and loved, from animals to musical artists to favourite video game characters. I felt like anything but an outcast as we approached a brilliant array of sweeping multi-coloured lights, bathing the steet in their inspiriting glory. A pulsating trance beat emerged out of nowhere and infected my body, so that I could not help but move in rhythm with it. The crowd became more and more compacted the closer I got to the stage, but I did not care. I felt happy to be around these human beings so much like myself, and would have shuddered at the thought of walking down dark streets alone. I squeezed through the crowd of individuals who kindly manoeuvered out of my way while resuming their liberating dance grooves. As I drew closer to the stage--apparently one of many, I was enveloped in an awe-inspiring tunnel of royal blue light. Suddenly, a voice announced, "tonight's festival is dedicated to that marvelous tropical storm due to slam into Hilo in about an hour... it's going to get wild, everyone!" The music resumed with pounding beats, the DJ's on the set chemically manipulating the crowd with their euphoric creations. Tourists on the balconies of the hotels, young and old, could be seen with their hands up in the air. And when it suddenly started pouring rain, the crowd only became more energised, as if nurtured by the pristine water falling from the sky. With each heavy rumble of thunder that could be heard over the music, everyone cheered along with me. There was not a single drug to be found at the celebration; it was all natural euphoria infused in everyone. I hugged a random stranger, and was immediately hugged back. Peace, love, unity, and respect. We all had our minor differences and quirks but knew we were all similar underneath, and we all felt deeply compassionate toward one another--we all somehow knew this inside. I could not sense a smidgen of contempt or apathy radiating from anyone. Absolutely everything about the experience was positive, and no one had to worry in the slightest about being ridiculed for their behaviours or passions. Not able to erase the smile from my face, but no longer caring to project aloofness, I shuffled over to the golf course. It was no longer a golf course, but a verdant field full of souls hypnotised by the ethereal musical works of Sasha on stage. When the strong, cold breeze hit me halfway through "Magnetic North," I felt as if I was flying. It was then that a brilliant bolt of lightning seared across the sky, and everything vapourised.
In reality, it was a pair of high beams that were shining upon me, shattering my deep trance. I shook the sand off my bottom, picked up my bicycle and carried on farther down the beach where no cars could go, wondering why I hadn't done so the first time around. That powerful daydream reminded me distinctly of the Electric Daisy Carnival, that June 25th event which literally proved to me that there are quite a few wonderful, like-minded people to be found in the world, even in a place as close as California. Never had I felt so at home in a crowd, and I probably never will again until I go to my next rave. It was one of the most inspiring and soul-liberating events I had ever experienced.
Reality in essence is very, very dismal. It's characterised predominantly by rules that can never be broken, uncontrollable outcomes and consequences, and unpleasant circumstance. If I were, on that evening, to take Banyan Drive exactly as it was, I probably would have become depressed. In reality, several people looked at me funny, looking entirely lost in their own selfish worlds of self-serving standards. People were gathered around their cars drinking light beer and listening to rap music. They would all probably go home in a couple hours, leaving the streets dead again until revived by the next brutal sunrise. I recalled that night that my imagination is, in fact, a system of self-defense. It serves as an outer shell, a buffer if you will, which protects my sensitive heart and spirit from the misery and hollowness of the outside world. Living in a dream world does not necessarily cause any harm whatsoever, but rather does quite the opposite for me. I need not a psychotherapist nor anti-depressant medication when my vivid imagination can readily compensate for the shortcomings--and there are many--of reality. Somehow, I can strike a perfect balance between imagination and reality, creating an optimal effect. For example, the wind that night was real, the rain was real, a few flashing lights could be seen here and there, and that actual area would have been ideal for a rave. Many of the elements and settings were already there, so that I could focus more attention on adjusting other aspects of the stage to their ideal setting ...in my mind. If life is but a dream anyway, one certainly should not be afraid to ...hold themselves back.
...Which brings me back to blackout curtains. It may seem rather absurd or silly that I should be so rapt over new curtains, but then again, not being disturbed in the morning is rather important to me. That, and I need my own private space in the world, one where no stranger can possibly see inside. One in which I can create any variation or spin on reality that I choose, and not be chastised or shunned due to someone's perspective of it being too "ludicrous." If I consider one thing to be remarkably ludicrous, it's being advised to snap out of my fantasy world.
Unfortunately, it involved a precarious excursion to Wal-Mart. I feel like a hypocrite for preaching against such an establishment, yet strolling in there whenever I am seeking a commodity that I wouldn't know where to look for anywhere else. It's lamentable that the "if you build it, they will come" adage applies to Wal-Mart in such impeccable fashion. The entire store is a monument of ugliness, a temple of gluttony and greed, a monastery of lazy, overweight slobs thanks to general lack of education, willpower, and abundant availability of terrible processed fatty foods. The store represents the entire country of America in a confined little acre lot, and there are thousands of stores nationwide just like that one. And with a McDonald's built right into the store, people can look forward to waddling right over there for dinner just after they've finished shopping. Gotta love the American way, huh?
...No, not really. The utter lack of culture or character to be found in that store; the way it reflects America at large; the way the smell of McDonald's grease at the entrance for some reason reminds me of what a hopeless, delusional retard the president is and how many pathetic droids believe in his lies and constant spewing of bullshit all over his throne... it's very depressing. Stepping into the store from outside in the town of Hilo is like stepping into an entirely different world. That could help explain why I often feel like I'm dreaming when I walk into Wal-Mart at night. I transgress from the muddy amber street light halos in a sleepy city into a store illuminated brightly as a microscope slide. From there, I could be anywhere--Kansas, Florida, perhaps even Flint, Michigan. In any case, having achieved my purchasing goal, I promptly trotted out of the store and into my charming little sanctuary on the other side of the river, thankful it didn't involve bounding over endless grids of wheat fields.
My excursion later that evening was far more inspirational; it quickly erased all remaining traces of my Wal-Mart blues. It was as simple as riding my bicycle into the night, down along main arteries that were queerly desolate in the afterhours. When I caught sight of the half moon ascending above the bay, I was seized by blissful sensations that sent shivers coursing through my body. Nothing affects me quite like the moon. Any hint of weariness I had been feeling prior was quickly eliminated as I watched her rise above the cottony clouds. As I circled around Banyan Drive, my imagination kicked itself into high gear.
This street, which wrapped itself around a small golf course inland and a few hotels and restaurants along the coast before looping back to the main highway, was relatively active that evening. Plenty of parked cars filled the lots, and plenty of humans loitered around them. I heard a decent breakbeat minus obnoxious rapping about thug lyfe, which is pretty impressive considering the sort of crap that's standard around here. I could have stopped and weaseled my way in to see what was going on, but I honestly did not have enough interest. Instead, I could not help but imagine how things in that particular area would have been in my ideal world... the world that I knew was far too good for reality but fit together perfectly in my mind.
The road was closed to vehicular traffic at both entrances from the highway. Those with cars had to park by the boat ramps, but bicycles were allowed past the barricades. Even at the entrance to Banyan Drive, I was an involuntary but very receptive participant in an aural orgy of music that I knew would truly move and infect me. I didn't know exactly what I was getting into, but I was deeply intrigued, slowly following a crowd down the streets. The air of anticipation was intense. It could be seen in everyone's friendly faces, their jovial body movements. I few people looked at me and smiled, as if to say, "welcome to our celebration, friend." And I did feel welcome, very much so. The slogans and graphics on the clothing of many depicted things I knew and loved, from animals to musical artists to favourite video game characters. I felt like anything but an outcast as we approached a brilliant array of sweeping multi-coloured lights, bathing the steet in their inspiriting glory. A pulsating trance beat emerged out of nowhere and infected my body, so that I could not help but move in rhythm with it. The crowd became more and more compacted the closer I got to the stage, but I did not care. I felt happy to be around these human beings so much like myself, and would have shuddered at the thought of walking down dark streets alone. I squeezed through the crowd of individuals who kindly manoeuvered out of my way while resuming their liberating dance grooves. As I drew closer to the stage--apparently one of many, I was enveloped in an awe-inspiring tunnel of royal blue light. Suddenly, a voice announced, "tonight's festival is dedicated to that marvelous tropical storm due to slam into Hilo in about an hour... it's going to get wild, everyone!" The music resumed with pounding beats, the DJ's on the set chemically manipulating the crowd with their euphoric creations. Tourists on the balconies of the hotels, young and old, could be seen with their hands up in the air. And when it suddenly started pouring rain, the crowd only became more energised, as if nurtured by the pristine water falling from the sky. With each heavy rumble of thunder that could be heard over the music, everyone cheered along with me. There was not a single drug to be found at the celebration; it was all natural euphoria infused in everyone. I hugged a random stranger, and was immediately hugged back. Peace, love, unity, and respect. We all had our minor differences and quirks but knew we were all similar underneath, and we all felt deeply compassionate toward one another--we all somehow knew this inside. I could not sense a smidgen of contempt or apathy radiating from anyone. Absolutely everything about the experience was positive, and no one had to worry in the slightest about being ridiculed for their behaviours or passions. Not able to erase the smile from my face, but no longer caring to project aloofness, I shuffled over to the golf course. It was no longer a golf course, but a verdant field full of souls hypnotised by the ethereal musical works of Sasha on stage. When the strong, cold breeze hit me halfway through "Magnetic North," I felt as if I was flying. It was then that a brilliant bolt of lightning seared across the sky, and everything vapourised.
In reality, it was a pair of high beams that were shining upon me, shattering my deep trance. I shook the sand off my bottom, picked up my bicycle and carried on farther down the beach where no cars could go, wondering why I hadn't done so the first time around. That powerful daydream reminded me distinctly of the Electric Daisy Carnival, that June 25th event which literally proved to me that there are quite a few wonderful, like-minded people to be found in the world, even in a place as close as California. Never had I felt so at home in a crowd, and I probably never will again until I go to my next rave. It was one of the most inspiring and soul-liberating events I had ever experienced.
Reality in essence is very, very dismal. It's characterised predominantly by rules that can never be broken, uncontrollable outcomes and consequences, and unpleasant circumstance. If I were, on that evening, to take Banyan Drive exactly as it was, I probably would have become depressed. In reality, several people looked at me funny, looking entirely lost in their own selfish worlds of self-serving standards. People were gathered around their cars drinking light beer and listening to rap music. They would all probably go home in a couple hours, leaving the streets dead again until revived by the next brutal sunrise. I recalled that night that my imagination is, in fact, a system of self-defense. It serves as an outer shell, a buffer if you will, which protects my sensitive heart and spirit from the misery and hollowness of the outside world. Living in a dream world does not necessarily cause any harm whatsoever, but rather does quite the opposite for me. I need not a psychotherapist nor anti-depressant medication when my vivid imagination can readily compensate for the shortcomings--and there are many--of reality. Somehow, I can strike a perfect balance between imagination and reality, creating an optimal effect. For example, the wind that night was real, the rain was real, a few flashing lights could be seen here and there, and that actual area would have been ideal for a rave. Many of the elements and settings were already there, so that I could focus more attention on adjusting other aspects of the stage to their ideal setting ...in my mind. If life is but a dream anyway, one certainly should not be afraid to ...hold themselves back.
...Which brings me back to blackout curtains. It may seem rather absurd or silly that I should be so rapt over new curtains, but then again, not being disturbed in the morning is rather important to me. That, and I need my own private space in the world, one where no stranger can possibly see inside. One in which I can create any variation or spin on reality that I choose, and not be chastised or shunned due to someone's perspective of it being too "ludicrous." If I consider one thing to be remarkably ludicrous, it's being advised to snap out of my fantasy world.
Ooh, Katrina, I love your way.
In case no one has checked the news recently, as of the time of this post, this awesome meteorological phenomenon (no, really, it's awesome, because it inspires awe) known as Katrina has achieved category 5 hurricane status. Currently in the Gulf Coast, it is approaching land with wind speeds of up to 175 miles per hour. The storm is threatening the city of New Orleans, expected to make landfall by Monday morning, and officials have thus ordered the evacuation of nearly all of the city's citizens. An emergency declaration has been signed for the states of Mississippi and Louisiana. Some are already predicting that Katrina may steal the record away from the imfamous Andrew as being the costliest storm to ever strike the United States. Much of New Orleans also happens to be located below sea level, so needless to say flooding could be a severe issue.
Besides the fact that this is an obvious newsworthy event conducive to discussion, it gives me the opportunity to express my opinion on hurricanes in general. I view them as magnificent works of nature, so elegantly refined, confidently cohesive, and even strangely handsome. When a hurricane develops its eye, it looks exceptionally frightening and gorgeous. I consider the conception of a hurricane, and its relatively rapid development from a mere tropical "depression" to a full-fledged beast capable of ravaging economies and taking human lives, to be something magical indeed. They are remarkably beautiful, impressive, and intimidating in their raw strength and overwhelming power. I have stood out in 45 mph wind gusts before and felt as if I was going to be blown over... when I imagine what wind speed nearly four times that must be like, I become steadfast with awe. It becomes difficult not to regard them as living, thinking entities on a mission of mass destruction, and I usually find myself cheering them on like my favourite sports team. Now, some may consider doing such a thing to be morally culpable; instead, I should be praying for the well-being of all the storm's potential victims, but that is something I could never do. I don't believe in praying, and I certainly don't believe in hoping that such a spectacular creation should miss land entirely. I would consider it such a depressingly monumental waste if no damage was done. As soon as I hear word that Katrina has made landfall, I will excitedly shout out "GOAAAAAL!"
Now, unfortunately, I have some respect for the city of New Orleans, if only for its culture. I would much rather a storm of such magnitude hit tourist-infested areas of Florida, perhaps demolishing a few high-class resorts, making ruins of rental car lots, and sinking some five hundred yachts. Of course, one can't be too choosy when it comes to situations like this. I am just thankful for hurricanes in general; something that can make for exciting news, as well as entertain and intrigue and spellbind. If such a powerful storm were to hit the island upon which I live later on in the season, pulling the roof right off my home and sending a telephone pole through my television set (it's entirely possible), I would not eat my words. If anything, I would have even greater respect and admiration for them.
I suppose that the ultimate reason I appreciate hurricanes so much is that they simply provide further evidence that the unpredictable, unstoppable , and uncontrollable forces of nature are what truly rule the earth ...not humans.
Besides the fact that this is an obvious newsworthy event conducive to discussion, it gives me the opportunity to express my opinion on hurricanes in general. I view them as magnificent works of nature, so elegantly refined, confidently cohesive, and even strangely handsome. When a hurricane develops its eye, it looks exceptionally frightening and gorgeous. I consider the conception of a hurricane, and its relatively rapid development from a mere tropical "depression" to a full-fledged beast capable of ravaging economies and taking human lives, to be something magical indeed. They are remarkably beautiful, impressive, and intimidating in their raw strength and overwhelming power. I have stood out in 45 mph wind gusts before and felt as if I was going to be blown over... when I imagine what wind speed nearly four times that must be like, I become steadfast with awe. It becomes difficult not to regard them as living, thinking entities on a mission of mass destruction, and I usually find myself cheering them on like my favourite sports team. Now, some may consider doing such a thing to be morally culpable; instead, I should be praying for the well-being of all the storm's potential victims, but that is something I could never do. I don't believe in praying, and I certainly don't believe in hoping that such a spectacular creation should miss land entirely. I would consider it such a depressingly monumental waste if no damage was done. As soon as I hear word that Katrina has made landfall, I will excitedly shout out "GOAAAAAL!"
Now, unfortunately, I have some respect for the city of New Orleans, if only for its culture. I would much rather a storm of such magnitude hit tourist-infested areas of Florida, perhaps demolishing a few high-class resorts, making ruins of rental car lots, and sinking some five hundred yachts. Of course, one can't be too choosy when it comes to situations like this. I am just thankful for hurricanes in general; something that can make for exciting news, as well as entertain and intrigue and spellbind. If such a powerful storm were to hit the island upon which I live later on in the season, pulling the roof right off my home and sending a telephone pole through my television set (it's entirely possible), I would not eat my words. If anything, I would have even greater respect and admiration for them.
I suppose that the ultimate reason I appreciate hurricanes so much is that they simply provide further evidence that the unpredictable, unstoppable , and uncontrollable forces of nature are what truly rule the earth ...not humans.
Aug 26, 2005
I would have to say that the latter half of August is my least favourite time of the year. Starting the fall semester a week and a half before the calendar rolls over to September still doesn't seem right to me. At this point, blessed as it is, summer has long worn out its welcome, and I am eager to embrace autumn. I don't care for September much more than Autumn, but at least it's an emergence from the hot, sultry dog days and one month closer to October. It's peculiar I should even be commenting on climatic changes, as seasonal variation this close to the equator is barely noticeable. It is possible, however, to detect that it is slightly cooler here, even at sea level, in the winter. Winter in Hawaii is, well, far more appealing to me than summer. There are more exciting storms that bring more rain, more snow, and cooler temperatures. I miss cold fronts dearly, especially on a day as obnoxiously hot, dry, and clear as today. While walking outside today between classes, I realised that I truly dislike the sensation of sunlight against my skin, when it's brutally blazing full strength and ten seconds exposure to it leaves me feeling overly warm, itchy, and unclean. It's an entirely different tale up in the mountains, where the sunlight is actually welcomed for it contrasts so beautifully with the cool breeze and brisk, thin air. Ultimately, given the choice between living on the beach and at 6,000 feet, I would go for the latter without thinking. Days like today here at 36 feet above sea level sap my energy and patience away more than anything, but a cloudless day at a high elevation would invigorate and inspirit me nearly as much as a foggy one. When one experiences conditions at both elevations in one day, the distinction between them is easily made. The cool mountain air makes me feel positively jovial and lively, while a hot day near the coast makes me want to retreat into a dark lava tube and hibernate until the setting sun paved a trail to crepuscular relief. The hot sunlight pouring through my windows early this morning made me fall out of bed and sleep the next couple of hours on the cool floor on the other side of the room. If I could find one retailer around here that sells true black-out curtains, I might not have such a problem with feeling like I fell asleep inside a toaster on some mornings. When your overall mood for the day and ability to function and perform happens to be so dependent on the weather, these sorts of things are important investments.
I will also admit that I was annoyed to a fair degree when the instructor of my last class stated just before I walked out the door, "enjoy your weekend, I think it's going to be nice and sunny." I gritted my teeth and commanded myself to continue walking in a straightforward manner before my instinct got the best of me and I charged back to the front desk to claw her about the face. I know it's a ritual of so many people to go bask in the sun using minimal protection, giving their skin that golden-coppery look that is supposed to be a contemporary status symbol of beauty. Personally, though, I consider being torched with hazardous UV rays all day anything but "nice." If anything is nice, it's rain, for it cleans, purifies, washes away the dust and grime, gives everything that verdant sheen and mirthful sparkle, and eliminates most of the unpleasant heat. While so many people are out lying on the beach self-nurturing the development of skin cancer, I would rather be frolicking about in the mountain mist... nice and rainy, nice and rainy.
One good thing about daytime, though, is that it's only a matter of time before darkness finally arrives... and that's when I really start to spring to life. Evening twilight is but a metaphor for anticipation.
I will also admit that I was annoyed to a fair degree when the instructor of my last class stated just before I walked out the door, "enjoy your weekend, I think it's going to be nice and sunny." I gritted my teeth and commanded myself to continue walking in a straightforward manner before my instinct got the best of me and I charged back to the front desk to claw her about the face. I know it's a ritual of so many people to go bask in the sun using minimal protection, giving their skin that golden-coppery look that is supposed to be a contemporary status symbol of beauty. Personally, though, I consider being torched with hazardous UV rays all day anything but "nice." If anything is nice, it's rain, for it cleans, purifies, washes away the dust and grime, gives everything that verdant sheen and mirthful sparkle, and eliminates most of the unpleasant heat. While so many people are out lying on the beach self-nurturing the development of skin cancer, I would rather be frolicking about in the mountain mist... nice and rainy, nice and rainy.
One good thing about daytime, though, is that it's only a matter of time before darkness finally arrives... and that's when I really start to spring to life. Evening twilight is but a metaphor for anticipation.
Aug 25, 2005
Not thinking too much makes my head hurt.
In the early evening, with twilight still in the midst of blotting out the day and another August dog day of school under my fur, I decided to head out to one of my favourite areas of Onomea Bay, just ten minutes out of town. It only took a few minutes of time spent down there for me to confirm that there is indeed something about that place that rejuvenates my soul and leaves me in a state of tranquility and content. It's only a short walk down the disrepaired cliff side road which crosses a bridge and turns into a path bisecting the spectacular botanical garden. The trail turns to gravel, descends some stairs, and drops straight into a forested stream. Hell, everything is forested down there, save for the lone grassy point, upon which sits a single lonely palm tree. Late in the afternoon, the atmosphere is so conducive to good spirits. All the botanical garden employees went home at 5, meaning no one would sneer at you for walking by the gates. 9 times out of 10, there's no one down there at all. It's when I creep up to the edge of the point that I feel that warm and friendly, yet cooling and heavy trade wind caressing all of me as it rolls up from the ocean much like the waves. The sky is usually carpeted with cloud cover, creating celestial textures, and I can still faintly hear the chirping of the frogs back in the rainforest. The sound of the humble stream congregating with the wavelets sent by the proud ocean also contributes its share to the overall serenity.
It's here that I can truly sit or stand around for a great length of time and allow my mind to drift as I soak up the beauty. I can think out, sometimes even act out, things that trouble or concern me. I convinced myself that the particular spot was crawling with benevolent spirits that crept into me and made me feel little short of ebullient for the whole time I was there. In the end, it all amounts to one exceptional release. It would be an ideal place to camp, with its large, flat grassy spot, but of course, it isn't allowed. At the very least, I would like to bring a sleeping bag sometime and spend a few hours down there, making my way out before dawn leads to the discovery of me.
In other news, I have an upper molar that has been giving me a mite of pain recently, but only when it's impacted to some degree, as when I shake my head hard or run or jump. Cavity, mayhaps? Either way, if it gets any worse or severely tiresome, I'll definitely face up to my intimidation of going to the dentist. It's been a little too long, anyway. Who seriously goes every six months? Also, I took the screening test today for the campus library job I'm attemping to get. It wasn't anything too difficult or taxing. I was simply handed a guide that showed how to categorise under the Library of Congress Catalog, and another sheet of paper which had me apply the concepts in order to test how well I could follow instructions and absorb the information. I'm certain I did fine, so hopefully I will get lucky. As for my courses, I feel fine about them, as well. Even though I'm taking three extra credits, I feel less intimidated by my courses than I did last semester. This may very well be because I had to write around 80 pages of research/assignments in the spring, and will have to do less than half that this time around. Finally not having a writing intensive course helps.
I would also be glad that tomorrow is Friday, if my utter lack of plans for the weekend didn't actually depress me.
As of late, my desire to release some of my deeper, more intimate thoughts to the world through my writing has been strengthening. I am aware that it's something I haven't been doing lately, though. My entries seem more matter-of-fact than anything, anymore, and not so speculative as they once were. I routinely have all these amazing, fascinating thoughts swirling through my head. Conjuring them up is easy; putting them into words is not. Language fails me much of the time, and that's why I'm simply silent much of the time, just lost in my own head. After all, language only goes so far, especially for a right-brainer like myself. If I were to attempt to put many of the sorts of things I imagine and think about into words, it would likely make very little sense to anyone but myself. Actually, it probably wouldn't make any sense to myself, either. I can't hope to describe what beauty is to myself or anyone else, certainly. It's something I feel, deep within me, seemingly buried under far too much rubble to ever be excavated by language's pickaxe. And yet, I subconsciously try to describe it to myself every time I feel it, as if I am trying to rationalise it, as if I need the assistance of language in order to fathom it. I suspect things may be much easier if I train myself not to do such a thing. I have been trained all my life to think in terms of language, but my ability to relish, savour, and memorise may be only embellished and enhanced by refusing to apply the subject to language or vice versa. It only makes sense when considering the limitations of language as opposed to the vast array of stimuli to perceive. Just let it flow into you, Neal. Words could never flow -that- well. And that is perhaps the reason I get these cravings to have someone by my side experiencing the same beauty as I do at the same time. I don't have to describe it to them, because if they are anything like me in any meaningful way, they probably feel it too, in its genuine essence, which is all that really does it any justice. Certainly not a blog entry about it.
Well, that was a fairly intimate thought, so I may just be turning things around. That concludes tonight's terribly disjointed musings.
It's here that I can truly sit or stand around for a great length of time and allow my mind to drift as I soak up the beauty. I can think out, sometimes even act out, things that trouble or concern me. I convinced myself that the particular spot was crawling with benevolent spirits that crept into me and made me feel little short of ebullient for the whole time I was there. In the end, it all amounts to one exceptional release. It would be an ideal place to camp, with its large, flat grassy spot, but of course, it isn't allowed. At the very least, I would like to bring a sleeping bag sometime and spend a few hours down there, making my way out before dawn leads to the discovery of me.
In other news, I have an upper molar that has been giving me a mite of pain recently, but only when it's impacted to some degree, as when I shake my head hard or run or jump. Cavity, mayhaps? Either way, if it gets any worse or severely tiresome, I'll definitely face up to my intimidation of going to the dentist. It's been a little too long, anyway. Who seriously goes every six months? Also, I took the screening test today for the campus library job I'm attemping to get. It wasn't anything too difficult or taxing. I was simply handed a guide that showed how to categorise under the Library of Congress Catalog, and another sheet of paper which had me apply the concepts in order to test how well I could follow instructions and absorb the information. I'm certain I did fine, so hopefully I will get lucky. As for my courses, I feel fine about them, as well. Even though I'm taking three extra credits, I feel less intimidated by my courses than I did last semester. This may very well be because I had to write around 80 pages of research/assignments in the spring, and will have to do less than half that this time around. Finally not having a writing intensive course helps.
I would also be glad that tomorrow is Friday, if my utter lack of plans for the weekend didn't actually depress me.
As of late, my desire to release some of my deeper, more intimate thoughts to the world through my writing has been strengthening. I am aware that it's something I haven't been doing lately, though. My entries seem more matter-of-fact than anything, anymore, and not so speculative as they once were. I routinely have all these amazing, fascinating thoughts swirling through my head. Conjuring them up is easy; putting them into words is not. Language fails me much of the time, and that's why I'm simply silent much of the time, just lost in my own head. After all, language only goes so far, especially for a right-brainer like myself. If I were to attempt to put many of the sorts of things I imagine and think about into words, it would likely make very little sense to anyone but myself. Actually, it probably wouldn't make any sense to myself, either. I can't hope to describe what beauty is to myself or anyone else, certainly. It's something I feel, deep within me, seemingly buried under far too much rubble to ever be excavated by language's pickaxe. And yet, I subconsciously try to describe it to myself every time I feel it, as if I am trying to rationalise it, as if I need the assistance of language in order to fathom it. I suspect things may be much easier if I train myself not to do such a thing. I have been trained all my life to think in terms of language, but my ability to relish, savour, and memorise may be only embellished and enhanced by refusing to apply the subject to language or vice versa. It only makes sense when considering the limitations of language as opposed to the vast array of stimuli to perceive. Just let it flow into you, Neal. Words could never flow -that- well. And that is perhaps the reason I get these cravings to have someone by my side experiencing the same beauty as I do at the same time. I don't have to describe it to them, because if they are anything like me in any meaningful way, they probably feel it too, in its genuine essence, which is all that really does it any justice. Certainly not a blog entry about it.
Well, that was a fairly intimate thought, so I may just be turning things around. That concludes tonight's terribly disjointed musings.
Bestiality
It's apparently one of the biggest sexual taboos out there in contemporary times, at least in this culture. It has become such a fervent topic on a forum I check occasionally (but have decided to participate in no longer due to the fact that it has degenerated into a despicable slime pit) that I decided I may as well share my views on it here, where I won't receive a slew of immature comments slung toward me just because my opinion happens to differ from the majority.
First of all, I don't condone bestiality, especially in regard to promiscuity. I consider animals, all animals, to be much too sacred and beautiful to be violated in such a way by humans. Humans have no business forcing an animal into having sexual intercourse with them; it's one of the worst ways they could possibly be exploited, and completely destroys their dignity. I can, however, understand human sexual attraction towards animals. Humans in general are ugly, clumsy, awkward things, while so many animals are sleek, graceful, and incredibly cute or handsome. (Do I sound biased enough toward one or the other yet?) Of course, none of this justifies raping an animal, especially one of the wild that owes no allegiance or holds no loyalty toward you whatsoever. You can have all the fantasies you like, but leave the poor creatures alone.
It would be silly to publically announce your love for an animal mate these days, be it a dog, a cat, or a turtle. In no times at all, you'll attract a whole mob of grimacing faces, accompanied by disapproving voices condemning it as "disgusting," "sick," "unacceptable," or "unnatural." Well, as far as I'm concerned, if someone wishes to marry their dog and sleep with it every night, I have absolutely no problem with it at all, as long as the dog is reasonably happy. In fact, I have great respect for the fact that they are willing to have such an unconventional relationship that's so widely regarded as "wrong." To be perfectly frank, I don't think it's any more "wrong" than cheating with various sexual partners, most of whom probably have their own sexual partners and so forth, or having sex with one's own family members. Certainly, it's not nearly as bad as raping or molesting children. What annoys me the most is how quick so many people seem to be to immediately dismiss such partnerships as one of the grossest things they've ever heard. All religious BS aside, what is really so "disgusting" about it? I'm sure most animals keep themselves cleaner than many human skanks out there, if you catch my drift. If there's one thing I consider disgusting, it's guys who chatter on and on about which humans' vaginas they'd love to "pork." And you know, there's another merit of inter-species mating--it has no chance of producing those vile, useless little maggots more commonly referred to as "babies."
So, just to clarify, I am not vehemently against animal-human sexual relations as so many people seem to be, due to their religious upbringing or illimitable closed-mindedness or need to blend in or what have you. I understand and respect the fact that certain individuals may feel that sort of connection with animals. Certain animals can provide a profound sense of loyalty, innocence, and unconditional love that virtually every human could never be trusted to. You can have your opinions, but at least try to do a better job at backing them up and less time doing such an eloquent acting job gagging over how "sick" it is.
Yes, I know this is a taboo subject, and that's exactly why I decided to write about it. It's not a common topic for a blog, and I like controversy. So, if anyone wishes to discuss/debate any of my points, the comment feature is right under your nose.
First of all, I don't condone bestiality, especially in regard to promiscuity. I consider animals, all animals, to be much too sacred and beautiful to be violated in such a way by humans. Humans have no business forcing an animal into having sexual intercourse with them; it's one of the worst ways they could possibly be exploited, and completely destroys their dignity. I can, however, understand human sexual attraction towards animals. Humans in general are ugly, clumsy, awkward things, while so many animals are sleek, graceful, and incredibly cute or handsome. (Do I sound biased enough toward one or the other yet?) Of course, none of this justifies raping an animal, especially one of the wild that owes no allegiance or holds no loyalty toward you whatsoever. You can have all the fantasies you like, but leave the poor creatures alone.
It would be silly to publically announce your love for an animal mate these days, be it a dog, a cat, or a turtle. In no times at all, you'll attract a whole mob of grimacing faces, accompanied by disapproving voices condemning it as "disgusting," "sick," "unacceptable," or "unnatural." Well, as far as I'm concerned, if someone wishes to marry their dog and sleep with it every night, I have absolutely no problem with it at all, as long as the dog is reasonably happy. In fact, I have great respect for the fact that they are willing to have such an unconventional relationship that's so widely regarded as "wrong." To be perfectly frank, I don't think it's any more "wrong" than cheating with various sexual partners, most of whom probably have their own sexual partners and so forth, or having sex with one's own family members. Certainly, it's not nearly as bad as raping or molesting children. What annoys me the most is how quick so many people seem to be to immediately dismiss such partnerships as one of the grossest things they've ever heard. All religious BS aside, what is really so "disgusting" about it? I'm sure most animals keep themselves cleaner than many human skanks out there, if you catch my drift. If there's one thing I consider disgusting, it's guys who chatter on and on about which humans' vaginas they'd love to "pork." And you know, there's another merit of inter-species mating--it has no chance of producing those vile, useless little maggots more commonly referred to as "babies."
So, just to clarify, I am not vehemently against animal-human sexual relations as so many people seem to be, due to their religious upbringing or illimitable closed-mindedness or need to blend in or what have you. I understand and respect the fact that certain individuals may feel that sort of connection with animals. Certain animals can provide a profound sense of loyalty, innocence, and unconditional love that virtually every human could never be trusted to. You can have your opinions, but at least try to do a better job at backing them up and less time doing such an eloquent acting job gagging over how "sick" it is.
Yes, I know this is a taboo subject, and that's exactly why I decided to write about it. It's not a common topic for a blog, and I like controversy. So, if anyone wishes to discuss/debate any of my points, the comment feature is right under your nose.
Ever being hypnotised...
I have been obsessed with quite a few songs lately, and see no harm in mentioning a few of them. First of all, I listened to "Another Night" by Real McCoy on the way home from the store tonight, and was simply astounded by how it affected me. I don't think there's another song out there that makes me feel more upbeat, optimistic, energetic, and jovial. The nostalgic value of it is also a significant factor. The melodies and beats are so infectious, I feel like a hyperactive young pup everytime I listen to it. It is -the- perfect song for driving around after dark, just soaking in the beautiful night time atmosphere and feeling fine. And yes, it does take me way, way back to my mid-teens. It was one of the few dance songs I knew and loved back when I had yet to become a huge electronica buff.
Then there is "Hypnotised" by Paul Oakenfold, which is nothing short of enrapturing for me. I consider a listen to it a short journey into another world... a world of ecstasy. What is it about the song that makes me feel that way? Everything.
Two songs by Project Pitchfork enthrall me--"Green World" and "The Longing." The former takes me right into the middle of a deep forest where a small tribe of animal beings surround me, playing beautiful, lush melodies on traditional instruments. It never fails to give me shivers. As for "The Longing," harmonious synths and inspiring lyrics sung in almost inhuman-sounding voices overlay a heavy tribal drumbeat. I've never heard anything like it, and I need to find more material from this German artist.
I've been enjoying the album Mutations by Beck very much so, and am especially fond of the songs, "Nobody's Fault But My Own," "Tropicalia," and "Canceled Check." He is one of the only folk/folk-esque artists I listen to, mostly for the randomness and genius of his lyrics and quirky, groovy, and catchy musical assemblages. Odelay still stands as one of my favourite albums of all time, but if you want something truly bizarre, try Stereopathetic Soul Manure.
Hybrid is another electronic artist that truly sounds distinctive from all the rest. Their album Wider Angle is a masterpiece, from breathtaking intro to conclusion. "If I Survive" is one captivating epic hero's anthem, and "Beachcoma" removes me far from reality with every listen. Recently, I've been playing "Sinequanon" on repeat. It contains rapping, but sounds anything like conventional rap music, thankfully. It's so uncompromisingly groovealicious, especially the second part... whee.
On a metal note, the grossly underrated Dan Swano's Moontower has been leaving me spellbound. His predominantly growling vocals and cutting riffs would likely repel those whose musical tastes haven't progressed much further than Linkin Park, but in all honesty, the many euphonious melodic interludes in each of his songs are my biggest reason for being such a fan of his music. In my opinion, this is what metal -should- sound like. When I'm through listening to this album, I feel so dark and powerful and sinister and satisfied, and I love it. I'm also just starting to get into several of his bands, including Another Life and Nightingale.
Let it not be forgotten or doubted that I'm still a Dream Theater fan. I have been giving their music an extended break as of late, as I had been overplaying it to the extreme up until a few months ago. In a little while, it should sound fresh enough to approach once again. They are one band whom I actually do feel deserve all the hype they have received on certain Internet forums. And it's amazing, simply amazing, that they aren't even bigger than they are. They are legendary, having produced some of the best music I've ever heard by my evaluative standards.
Moonspell is another metal band that doesn't seem to receive enough recognition. "Full Moon Madness" has become a wandering staple, especially during that time of the month.
There are hundreds of other songs and artists I could rave about, but even I don't have all the time in the world...
Then there is "Hypnotised" by Paul Oakenfold, which is nothing short of enrapturing for me. I consider a listen to it a short journey into another world... a world of ecstasy. What is it about the song that makes me feel that way? Everything.
Two songs by Project Pitchfork enthrall me--"Green World" and "The Longing." The former takes me right into the middle of a deep forest where a small tribe of animal beings surround me, playing beautiful, lush melodies on traditional instruments. It never fails to give me shivers. As for "The Longing," harmonious synths and inspiring lyrics sung in almost inhuman-sounding voices overlay a heavy tribal drumbeat. I've never heard anything like it, and I need to find more material from this German artist.
I've been enjoying the album Mutations by Beck very much so, and am especially fond of the songs, "Nobody's Fault But My Own," "Tropicalia," and "Canceled Check." He is one of the only folk/folk-esque artists I listen to, mostly for the randomness and genius of his lyrics and quirky, groovy, and catchy musical assemblages. Odelay still stands as one of my favourite albums of all time, but if you want something truly bizarre, try Stereopathetic Soul Manure.
Hybrid is another electronic artist that truly sounds distinctive from all the rest. Their album Wider Angle is a masterpiece, from breathtaking intro to conclusion. "If I Survive" is one captivating epic hero's anthem, and "Beachcoma" removes me far from reality with every listen. Recently, I've been playing "Sinequanon" on repeat. It contains rapping, but sounds anything like conventional rap music, thankfully. It's so uncompromisingly groovealicious, especially the second part... whee.
On a metal note, the grossly underrated Dan Swano's Moontower has been leaving me spellbound. His predominantly growling vocals and cutting riffs would likely repel those whose musical tastes haven't progressed much further than Linkin Park, but in all honesty, the many euphonious melodic interludes in each of his songs are my biggest reason for being such a fan of his music. In my opinion, this is what metal -should- sound like. When I'm through listening to this album, I feel so dark and powerful and sinister and satisfied, and I love it. I'm also just starting to get into several of his bands, including Another Life and Nightingale.
Let it not be forgotten or doubted that I'm still a Dream Theater fan. I have been giving their music an extended break as of late, as I had been overplaying it to the extreme up until a few months ago. In a little while, it should sound fresh enough to approach once again. They are one band whom I actually do feel deserve all the hype they have received on certain Internet forums. And it's amazing, simply amazing, that they aren't even bigger than they are. They are legendary, having produced some of the best music I've ever heard by my evaluative standards.
Moonspell is another metal band that doesn't seem to receive enough recognition. "Full Moon Madness" has become a wandering staple, especially during that time of the month.
There are hundreds of other songs and artists I could rave about, but even I don't have all the time in the world...
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