October 6, 1997 "Hold me closer Tiny Dancer," ***WARNING*** Bad, bad words follow...You were warned! Go here if you are afraid. Be afraid. Be very afraid.... What's New...at 12.36A...now 01.57...Now 03.14A I am in a really black mood. I can't go into it now, but things be different now. Things be very different. How different remains to be seen. I'm writing about it now offline and hope to publish around the end of the year. I've got a new Project on the burner. It's been on my mind for a few weeks now, and I know that this time I need to get it out. Something that's been bugging me for a long time, years in fact, and needs to be dealt with. I'm figuring to finish it up around the time we go on winter break. It has to be done by then 'cause I've got my sister to visit in CA, and maybe throw in a visit to IN to visit the bro's and Cat. It's like this. You got an itch you can't scratch? Remember the scene in BladeRunner where Leon says to Deckerd (as he's kicking his ass around the street) "Do you know what it's like to have an itch you can't scratch?" It's like that. A back of the mind kind of thing that says you must start and complete "The Project", or it's going to plague you for the rest of your life? Maggy wrote her experience in Fray. I'm going to write mine right here. Right out in plain sight. No, mine isn't a narrative of an experience like hers. It's already underway and finally explains me. You need to reference this entry to know what I'm talking about. I love this cryptic shit!!! Patience my precious....patience. Anyway, I'm having a good time. I got me some fresh joe, smokes that will last till Dawn and tuneage. What could be better? How about $10 million? So I never have to wake up at 4.15A again??? How 'bout a brain that works? How 'bout a new heart? See...this one's got a little tear in it... Hey! My income tax refund came yesterday! I'm so happy. It's going to help finance The Project. You can hear the caps can't you??? :-) You think you know what it is don't you?? Come on now...'fess up. You really think you do. You're so really wrong! I'm so sure!!! :-) Director's Notes: ::::wild, demented cackling can be heard from off stage....fade lights to black:::: This is too good!!!! I was searching for "Cain 'n Abel wuz jealous Bruddah's" (which is hugely hilarious if you have ever seen it) and found the new Mirsky site. Mirsky brought us the Worst of The Web before he closed up shop and turned to new adventures in publishing. If you know where "Can 'n Abel" now resides, would you give a jolt and tell me? I'd appreciate it. What's On My Mind...at 12.36A...now 01.57A...Now 03.14A Life. I've been festering here all weekend. That's my fault. There is so much I think I want to do, and then I look at it, and realize it doesn't matter if I do it or not. Nothing seems to matter. Must be that yearly return of Fall heading into winter gig. I've got Madman Across The Water on, and it fits my mood to a T. I look and feel like hammered shit. Take it from Yul Brynner. Smoking is not good for you. It ages your face and makes your mouth taste awful. Ever see those commercials with Yul Brynner? "This is Yul Brynner speaking to you from beyond the grave...." Ooohhhhh. Nasty. Have you ever looked, I mean really looked, at a dog being walked around on a leash? Did it ever strike you as the dumbest thing you have ever seen? I mean, leading an animal around by it's neck? Did it ever strike you as odd that we keep carnivores for pets? That animals would have other animals in their dens? In the wild, these are potentially deadly wild beasts. Wtih us, they are pets. And what about cats? Ever tried to walk a cat or put a harness on it? I saw one of our cats get the harness put on and then promptly fall over with this incredulous look on it's face, saying "What the fuck are you doing? Cat's don't do this shit!!!" Watching Zoot brings this to mind. It's only a matter of scale that makes something a harmless pet (except for the bloody scratches I've already got) versus something that can kill a Wildebeast. Think about it. Both dogs and cats share the same DNA with their larger cousins. We meet so many people in our lives. How do we keep track of them all? How could we? Someone has to get dropped off the list. And as we drop people we add them. I know this dude who writes to me, and that I work with. Emailed me some good stuff on parentage this weekend and it was just the sort of thinking post we love to get here at The China Home. You hang out with those with whom you resonate. I ain't changing the freq! "What's the frequency Kenneth?" Ya wanna know? Ask Dan. Dread. Dread of what's going to happen today. Dread. That sick feeling in your gut that says things are spinning wildly out of control and knowing, knowing, you can't stop them. Like what am I going to do today? What will I say? What will I do? How will I get by? What if...? And knowing there is no answer to the question. Only surviving it. I wish I knew some Mobsters so I could go to the FBI and get into the Witness Relocation Program. I'd get a new identity, a new place to live and a new job. But, (and that's a big but you got there Drew) I'd still be me. No matter where you go...ya know? So what do you do with dread? Grow dreadlocks? Extreme fatigue. The bitch of it is, I can't even get a good manic episode up and running these days. At least I could get things done if I could. Like this, I'm a slug on 'ludes. Except for nights like this when I can't sleep, I'm a useless lump. The kind your Mother warned you about. Only, I don't have a couch surgically implanted in my ass. Or a TV glued to my face. Just this stoopid look that says I don't comprehend what the hell is happening to me. Tell me all duh nooze... I'm wondering what my neighbors think. Since I've moved my 'puter and desk from the back bedroom, I'm no longer right next to the guy next door's bedroom. That was a drag on me 'cause I didn't want to type much late at night for concern that I might be keeping him up or bothering him. I know, I'm so considerate. Now, in the living room (such as it is), I'm next to the couple next door's living room so I don't think I would be bothering them that much. I guess I won't know unless and until something comes slamming through the wall trying to get me. My imaging capabilities. The QuickCam takes good pics, but when I save them and view them in Netscape or anything else, they look awful. Crud. Guess I'll just go back to drawing Skippy the Squirrel and try to win that scholarship.... "Monsters John! Monsters from the Id!" I got your Monsters Doc! And I'll match your Monsters up against my Demons any day! My Demons'll kick your Monsters asses all the way back to Altair where they belong!! And The Krell???? The Krell can kiss my ass. Funky assed pyramid door-needin' things... And Krell musicians??? I don't think so!!! More likely two Krell junkies stoned on Gaach and Pythias Claw. "Will 60 gallons be sufficient?" Hmmm...Yeah. That'll do just fine. "Mister, I've been from one of this galaxy to the other and you are the most understanding soul I've ever met!" You should never have linked up with Angie Earle!!! "The damned things invisible!" Duh!!! I got your invisible demons beat you brainless fuck!! I got this giant one...unbeweevable!!!! It's a whisperer too. Sidles up to me like someone about to borrow money from you and whispers. Whispers things. (And no, I'm NOT hearing voices damnit!!!) Things. Insidious things. Things like: "Why are you still here?" "Why try?" "Why pretend?" "Let go and give in!" "Don't fight me!" "Don't take your meds" "Don't talk to your shrink or therapist!" "Stay inside and isolate!" "Give up!" So, ya wanna know what I do then? I invite it in. Offer it some tea or coffe. Get it a comfortable chair. Listen to it. Get to know it. (Because getting to know your Demons can be fun and profitable!) Then poke that foul, lying, smelly, moth-ridden, maggot-infested, dread-inducing, panic-causing, cause of all my depression, keepin' me awake at all hours or makin' me sleep for days motherfucker in the eye with the sugar spoon. My Opus. "The Project". That which will complete me. I've actually just typed in all sorts of things here in an attempt to explain myself and what I'm about, and deleted them all. It'll have to do. "I go to search for the Yellow Moon, and the Father's of our sons. Where the Red Sun sinks, into hills of Gold, and the healing waters run" "Now there seems no reason why, I should carry on. In this land that once was my land, I can't find a home. It's lonely, and it's quiet, and the horse soldiers are coming. And I think it's time I strung my bow, and ceased my senseless running. For soon I'll find the Yellow Moon, along with my loved ones. Where buffalo's graze in clover fields, without the sound of guns. And the Red Sun sinks at last, into the Hills of Gold" Elton John -- "Indian Sunset" Well, time to shower and go to work. I'm offline till later. Be Joyous! "Whatever you did to the least of my little ones, you did to me." Words to live by huh? Hmmmm... the clueless. Forgive me my God and my Lord. For I know not what the fuck I'm doing.... <some caffeine and some nicotine> "count the headlights on the highway." Copyright ©1996, 1997 A.T.Green. All Rights Reserved. A funny for those unable to deal with the real issues. Like, how did Theodore Geisel go from making war propaganda during WWII for the US, to being Dr. Seuss??? Questions like this will haunt us forever... Question: Why did the chicken cross the road? Answers: Pat Buchanan: To steal a job from a decent, hard-working American. Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take. John Locke: Because he was exercising his natural right to liberty. The Bible: And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the Chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing. Fox Mulder: It was a government conspiracy. Freud: The fact that you thought that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity. Darwin: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees. Richard M. Nixon: The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the chicken did not cross the road. Oliver Stone: The question is not "Why did the chicken cross the road?" but is rather "Who was crossing the road at the same time whom we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?" Jerry Seinfeld: Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why doesn't anyone ever think to ask, "What the heck was this chicken doing walking around all over the place anyway?" Grandpa: In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken had crossed the road, and that was good enough for us. Bill Gates: I have just released the new Chicken 2000, which will both cross roads AND balance your checkbook, though when it divides 3 by 2 it gets 1.4999999999. George Orwell: Because the government had fooled him into thinking that he was crossing the road of his own free will, when he was really only serving their interests. Colonel Sanders: I missed one? Aristotle: To actualize its potential. Karl Marx: It was a historical inevitability. Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you. Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference. Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken nature. Emily Dickenson: Because it could not stop for death. Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it. Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain. Saddam Hussein: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it. Saddam Hussein #2: It is the Mother of all Chickens. Joseph Stalin: I don't care. Catch it. I need its eggs to make my omelette. Dr. Seuss: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes the chicken crossed the road, but why it cross it, I've not been told! O.J.: It didn't. I was playing golf with it at the time.