Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak

I just took my yoga practice to another level. I don't even have the words, which is just about right because it went beyond words. There was clarity, mindfulness, almost no thought, fluidity. At times, and I'm not even joking, I felt as if there was a samurai warrior superimposed over my being. I could see his face (o' those leopard eyes!) every once in a while on the back of my lids. Was I receiving assistance from a disembodied teacher? Or had I called forth an archetype? Who knows. Good timing for a breakthrough; had a long, productive day and needed to turn the nozzle on the old safety valve for a bit. Yoga is a hell of a drug.

I started the week feeling like I had a decent grasp on handling the new car or, to be more specific, handling the change over from automatic to manual transmission. My first two cars were the latter, but my last two were the former; it had been a while. Driving home on the highway last night, I thought about what I needed to do if I had to come to a complete, sudden stop. The idea is to remember to get yourself in gear so you don't stall out, if you haven't already. I learned over the summer how perilous it is to be stationary on the highway with a legion of cars barreling towards you. Anyway, almost immediately after thinking that, I had to slam the brakes (I was at roughly the same spot as the previous incident). I didn't stall out, but I had to act quick and shift like a mother fucker because I had hell hounds on my trail. So why did traffic come to a complete stop? No idea. It picked up moments later. I'll chalk it up to imbecilic drivers who would be suited grazing in a pasture somewhere than operating heavy machinery. Fucking dicks.

As I say, I began the week feeling like I had a good grasp of things, but over the last couple of days I feel like my skills have regressed a bit. Trying to shift from fourth to fifth gear getting on the highway tonight didn't go very well. What I thought was fifth was actually third. The car let forth a gravelly yelp and I hurriedly rectified the situation. And I stalled out a couple of times yesterday. Oh well, these things happen. I'm sure it will all come back to me. I just need to smooth out my form.


It gets later in evening and I'm getting tired. A busy day today that found me hoofing around Boston in the morning and multi-tasking like a champ back at the office. I will sleep like a calf with a bellyful of milk. Before that happens, though, I'll try to work on some music, dick around online for a spell, read from The Shining.

May the force be with you.

Stroke me, stroke me

Been waiting years for this. Dr. Ketchum has been a polarizing figure in the Bigfoot community. Will her findings have merit? I'm doubtful - every Bigfoot related bit of news is fraught disappointment - but what's been leaked so far is intriguing to say the least. I'm going to bite my tongue until more news comes out, but I'm pretty excited. If the DNA results bear the weight of scrutiny will I feel vindicated? Will I expect apologies and gifts from those that scoffed, that laughed at my interest in Bigfoot, at my conviction that they exist? As you know, I possess a pure heart and am loved by all creatures great and small, so yes, the answer is yes. I will expect nothing less than groveling.

Could be these creatures are almost as human as you and me and even Billy.

Follow this link:

http://www.dnadiagnostics.com/press.html

She knew when she landed, three days she'd stay

I awoke from a nap yesterday and headed to the grocery store on a whim. I picked up some snow crab sushi and a couple of other items and made my way to the express check out line. I snaked through the crowd of people lodged between the registers and aisles. I dimly noticed someone about three feet away walking towards me through the din. One of us would have to move or we'd collide.

We made eye contact. Recognition; a former friend. I heard myself say "Hey, Adam" out of sheer reflex. His only form of acknowledgement was a grin that had no humor or warmth in it. He never slowed his pace; he was past me in a matter of seconds. Guess he didn't have time to stop and chat. Waiting in line a few moments later, I reflected on what happened. Man, that was not a friendly look he gave me. I thought upon how unfortunate the whole affair is.

Unfortunate. Sad. Irreversible. I hope I'm wrong on the last count, but it doesn't seem likely we'll ever reconcile. He loathes me (I think it's safe to say that's not an exaggeration), but I do not loathe him. Up until I found out he wanted nothing to do with me, I thought we were still close. He was, and still is, one of my favorite people and was probably my closest friend. I never felt as much ease with anyone else. As much as I sometimes want to resent him for this whole business, I find that I can't. I still regard him as one of the finest humans I've ever met. I consider myself lucky to have been a friend of his for so long. I wish him well and hope he'll someday be able to see things differently.

There is much I'm leaving out. I've debated whether to even touch upon it at all. There is a  psychological component and other things that I'd rather not share. While I feel it would be justified for me to really get into it, to lay it all bare under the glare of scrutiny, I stay my hand. Something about that psychological component and the fact that I want to respect his privacy while expressing how I feel. Who knows, though; I suppose at this point it really doesn't matter what is said. Ah, it's an odd situation, this; best leave it where it belongs: in the cob-webbed basement of the past.

Anyway, to quote Mr. Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."
--
I had several dreams last night about being at the Overlook Hotel. I read a lot from The Shining yesterday; it made sense. I don't recall them being bad dreams, which is kind of strange. Hey, I'm not complaining; I'm in no rush to be plunged into nightmares. I'll read some more tonight. I'll let you know how my dreams turn out. In the meantime, I'll watch the latest episode of The Walking Dead. That should balance things out. 

Peace and love to y'all!

I've been searching for the dolphins in the sea, and sometimes I wonder do you ever think of me

The long weekend is almost over. I hardly knew ye'. Ah, but time marches on and so do we  along with it. To that end, let's kick this post into gear. First, we cover Thanksgiving, perhaps the only holiday no one can find fault with. Mine was a fine one, despite the lousy commute to my parent's house. It took me over an hour to get there; it should have taken a little over a half hour. The traffic I faced, which I believe had more to do with shitty drivers and their shitty driving choices  than overcrowding, put me in a foul mood. I frothed, I entertained visions of thinning out the herd with Old Testament style vengeance, and, throughout this fever, I found myself laughing bitterly over how off the mark I was from embracing the spirit of Thanksgiving. Ah, the absurdity! When I finally arrived at my parent's house, most of my composure had returned, but I was still a bit frazzled and probably kind of a dick for a short spell. It happens.

My intention had been to arrive early so I could transfer my belongings from the Camry to the Forester, which I would be driving home. Even Spira, who I figured would be delayed by the same traffic, beat me; she had the foresight to avoid 93. Seeing her and Missy D, my sister and her family, my grandmother, and my parents warmed my heart and the red haze of stress and tension dissipated beyond my perception.

We had a nice meal and, afterward, my nieces played us some songs on the piano. Afterward, I stepped outside and put my belongings from the old car into the new one. I had driven it only once before, but only up and down the street. It had been years since I had driven a standard, but it seemed to come back to me. The test was going to be the ride home which was going to be at night and would combine back road, highway, and city driving. And I was going to have a passenger: my grandmother, who is in her mid-nineties. I hoped the ride would be a smooth one for both us.

And it was. Mostly. At first, it was a little dicey trying to shift and have a conversation with my grandmother, which under ordinary circumstances is not an easy feat. "I AGREE. I THINK THIS CAR WILL BE GREAT IN THE SNOW."

"The what, dear?"

"THE SNOW. I SAID I AGREE WITH YOU THAT THE CAR WILL BE GREAT IN THE SNOW."

"What is great not to know?"

"THE SNOW, I SAID. THE CAR WILL BE GREAT IN THE SNOW. THE SNOW!"

That type of thing happened early on; the rest of the trip was fine. At one point, Nana put a hand on my arm and said, "You're doing great, Kevin. The car hasn't bucked once." She was correct and I felt pretty good about that. It would have been kind of shitty being the cause of my grandmother getting whiplash or worse.

I love the car. I keep thinking of reasons to drive it. I discovered that, while it's an occasional hassle, I missed using a stick shift.  More hands on. I feel so much gratitude towards my parent's, who found the car (my mother spotted it in the parking lot of the gas station they frequent) and brokered the transaction. They made the experience of buying a car so much easier than it could have been. Whenever I thanked my dad for all the assistance, he would just shrug it off and say "Well, we've got a lot more free time on our hands now that we're retired and we don't mind taking care of some things you'd have to leave work to do." Still, they didn't have to help at all, no matter how much free time they had. Driving the car home on Thanksgiving wasn't lost on me. I have much to be thankful for.

Have you ever felt swift and sudden ecstasy, the sort that is so overwhelming you can barely stay conscious? Well, that's what I felt when I heard Les Stroud, aka Survivorman, on Joe Rogan's podcast talking about his two encounters with Bigfoot. That was ecstatic enough, but when he stated that there is a Survivorman: Bigfoot show in the works, I was shot through the cosmos, losing all sense of my former self. Only ecstasy, pure, unfiltered ecstasy. How I made it back, I have no inkling. Anyway, I'm a tad pleased at the news.

Been reading from The Shining a lot. I sometimes forget how masterful a storyteller King is. He's had his off moments, but in this book he really brings his A game. And, in case you're wondering, I have been sleeping with the lights on. Just to be safe.

My listening habits of late have comprised an odd pairing: Emerson, Lake, and Palmer and Grizzly Bear. As concerns the former, it's been  Brain Salad Surgery I've focused on and concerning the latter, it's mostly been Yellow House, their second album. I've wondered how this development has affected my songwriting. I'm not sure that is has, but you never know.

Back to work tomorrow. I'll begin my day in Cambridge and possibly Boston, which is fine with me. Makes the day go by quicker.

Alright, pups, I'm off to do other things. I'll leave you with a pic of me scratching my dear girl's head.

Cheer up, chin up, cheer up, chin up, cheer up

It's been a busy last few days. On Saturday, I went to my parent's house and washed the new car with my dad (he commandeered the hose, while I applied the sponge). The car (a Subaru Forester, if you're curious) was covered with these little poppy seed type things that were a mother fucker to remove (took a scouring pad to do the job and, let me tell you, the job is still not done).  Because I was pressed for time, the interior only received a cursory cleaning; when the car is in my possession, I'll do a more thorough job. The previous owners weren't cleanly and, judging by the sundry crayons, juice boxes, and cracker crumbs littered inside the car, they have children. One thing left behind that didn't qualify as trash was the shit ton of change that spilled out slot machine style from the tray by the steering wheel. I'm hoping there are jewels buried in the seats. There must be. Stay tuned!

I enjoyed spending time with my father; it's not something we get to do very often. We had lunch and talked about things my mother has no interest in, like The Beverly Hillbillies, sports, Curb Your Enthusiasm, whores, that type of thing. Hold on a second: it's possible we didn't discuss whores. Regardless, it was a nice visit; these days, they hold more significance. None of us are getting younger.

Shit, it's getting  late. Probably should have held off posting until tomorrow, but I didn't want to make you have to wait another day. See how much I care about you? Anyway, I've been busy, which hasn't been such a bad thing. I got to spend a lot of time with Missy D over the weekend (I took her to Fresh Pond on Sunday and we had a grand ol' time. She may just be the perfect dog). Craig came by last night and we, too, had a grand ol' time. He also might be the perfect dog.

I've been reading The Shining. I'm surprised it's taken me this long to read it, especially since it's considered one of King's best. Maybe I felt Kubrick's interpretation of the book, which is brilliant, was enough for me. Well, I decided it was time and, after a few chapters, so far so good. I hope there's some karate in the book; it's one area I felt the film was sorely lacking.

Not exactly sure why, but I felt melancholy today. I really didn't want to be at work, didn't really want to talk to anyone. A long session of yoga after work righted the ship. Had a nice discussion with Fred afterward, followed by dinner and a shower. Feeling better. 

Thanksgiving approaches. I'll let you know how it goes. If I don't post before then, I hope, from the bottom of my pure heart, that yours is a fine one, spent in the bosom of good tidings and kinship. Me, I'll be alone in my room with a Tyson frozen dinner and M.A.S.H reruns on VHS.

Namaste.

I need a fix 'cause I'm goin' down

When you feel as chilled to the bone as I do right now, the only thing for it is to listen to some Caetano Veloso. Specifically, I'm listening to Livro and my bones have warmed considerably. It's a wonderful album; you should listen to it always.

But it's on to The Beastie Boys and Check Your Head. MCA's ghost looms; the other day, I found an issue of Rolling Stone with him on the cover; he had just passed away; it was his eulogy And then I started thinking about death as I sometimes do (Do you think about death? How often, I wonder. Hmm...). But my purpose for listening to the Beasties has more to do with raising my energy than anything else. I'm tired - it was a long, active, day - and I'm pretty sure I just want to watch some Beverly Hillbillies or read or sleep. I question why I endeavored to poke away here, but here I am. I guess this is just my way of telling you I love you.

Speaking of love, I was drafting a cover letter at work today and the template I used was a letter I had typed last year. As I modified it, I noticed something that produced a chuckle, a tee-hee if you will, from someplace deep within my very soul. This is what I read above my signature: "Very truly yours". I'm positive it wasn't my idea to include that sentiment; I'm rarely that devoted to complete strangers; most likely it was a relic from an earlier letter someone else had typed up. Perhaps this person felt strongly about the recipient of the letter; we'll never know. And so I laughed and laughed, the child within me as free as something else that is free, like say another child, only freer. You find it funny, don't you? I mean, how could you not find it profoundly amusing? Very truly yours? Why would I say such a thing to someone I don't even know? Hilarious!

The new car is within reach. A few (hopefully) trifling matters to contend with and then I'm in the clear. Stay tuned!

I consider myself someone who's comfortable being alone, but man have I been feeling the cold lack of affection in my life. I'm speaking exclusively about the kind of affection couples engage in. Who doesn't want the occasional hug or rusty trombone? Oh, why did I have to take it there? Is it possible I'm making light of something in order to alleviate my embarrassment over feeling as needy as a babe alone in its crib? Of course it's possible. Anyway, I need affection like anyone else and lately I've been feeling the need more than usual. There is no shame in that. Ok, perhaps there is some, but it is not a shameful amount. Maybe I should finally accept all those date requests I've been putting off.

Off to something else. Had biryani for dinner and now I'm hungry again. I wish I had a bag of the freeze-dried mangoes that Trader Joe's sells. I ache for it like a junkie.

I'll leave you with a clip of Jeff Green posterizing Al Jefferson. Watch it twice before bed and once in the morning. If you do, at some point tomorrow you will discover that you're no longer a cravenly wretch.




Pleasant dreams, Jacobite scum.

Lonely is the night, when you find yourself alone

They say it's a good thing to listen to Edith Piaf on a Monday, especially if it's Veteran's Day. Who says that? I'm not at liberty to say. And, to show that I am in agreement, I'm listening to her lovely, tragic voice transmit from another time and another place. So long ago and right this very instant.

Got out of work a couple of hours early today and hit the yoga mat upon my arrival home. It was a challenging session; at times it was strenuous, but most of all it was therapeutic. Among other things, I practiced a variety of plank positions and, consequently, I'm feeling strong enough that I think I could kick Billy's ass. But will I? That will be pondered another day. In the meantime, we carry on.

A new song. It's coming together smoothly and sounds more East than West. I'll attempt to record some vocal tracks tonight. Ah, but it needs lyrics. Forgot about that. Damn.

On a related note, I may soon have some news regarding a musical endeavor. I know you're on the verge of wetting yourself over the possibilities, but I beg you to be patient as I'm not sure when I'll be able to speak on the matter. All I can tell you is that it involves the medium of rock and roll and involves other people. And, most importantly, this endeavor could see me getting laid like John Holmes, the X rated Nigguh.

Watched War of The Worlds last night. I fucking love that movie and I think it's a shame how overlooked it is. It's nearly perfect, it is. I feel like it should be a priority in my life to educate people about the greatness of War of The Worlds. One of Spielberg's best, I do declare.

Finally got to see video of the Minnesota trackway that was possibly, but most likely, made by a large, bipedal, undiscovered primate we like to call Bigfoot. I'll present it below, but a word of advice: ignore as best you can some of the commentary made by one of the admins at Facebook Find Bigfoot, who posted the video. Occasionally their analysis is spot on, but too often they make definitive statements and, in this field of research, it's almost impossible, even ridiculous, to make definitive statements about any aspect of it. For example, they'll state that not only is a blurry figure in a video clip a Sasquatch (when it could be a fifteen year old in a dark hoodie walking home from school), they take it a step further and explain it's behavior and motivations ("Notice how the Sasquatch tilts its coned head as it passes the tree. What it's doing is signaling the other Sasquatch that an intruder is near by. .

Anyway, there's not much analysis in this video and to the extent any is provided, it's fairly sound, even plausible. I'll let you make your own mind up should you choose to watch the video, but I don't think a human made those tracks. It's possible it's a hoax, but hoaxers usually don't go to such great lengths (miles of trackway) to fool us. I'm not even sure a human could leave tracks like that (deep, deep snow, long strides). Give it a looksie, if you dare. At the very least, you may find it interesting.





Ok, now that you've come to the unavoidable conclusion that those tracks were created by a very large biped, not human and definitely a Sasquatch, I can end this post feeling like there's still hope in the world.

Or something like that. Peace, you rabble-rousing C-suckers!

Our haven on the southern point is calling us

My listening habits over the last several weeks have been narrow, which is to say I've been pretty much only listening to Grizzly Bear and Yes. Regarding Grizzly Bear, it baffles me that it took me this long to embrace them. For whatever reason I never gave them a proper chance; something I suspect had to do with feeling like I had to choose between them and Fleet Foxes. Don't even ask. Anyway, I adore Grizzly Bear the way I adore Yes. They don't sound much alike, but their level of ambition and depth is virtually identical. Round of applause for these magnificent bastards!

My lust wasn't as ubiquitous today. I'm not saying that is a good or bad thing; it just is. So let's move on to politics. Like the rest of you, I'm eagerly awaiting the election results. Who will it be: Obama or Romney? No one knows. Anyway, I'm distracted by my roommate Matt's booming voice bellowing from downstairs. He's either really quiet or really fucking loud. He's a startling dude to be around sometimes.

Alright, I'm out of here. I'll work on music, watch Blackadder, read from Moby Dick, that sort of thing.

Good night, you milky moonbeams.

Two and two always makes a five

The commute home from work was dark and snowy towards the end. I eagerly sought the confines of home, where I planned on getting warm and relaxing. Ladies and gentleman, the plan has come to fruition! Well, almost; I'm not feeling that warm. Must be a product of age, this increasing susceptibility to cold weather. That, or the heater is not producing like it used to. I'm thinking a space heater is in my future.

I spent a good portion of today consumed with lust for a woman, but I'll stop there; to expound would cause discomfort to me and most definitely to you. So why even bring it up? Why do I tease you so? Here's the plain truth: I felt, because it was something I was consumed with for almost the entire day and possibly right this instant as I type this with startling speed, that it was worth noting. I also felt, because many of my readers are toddlers and adolescents, I should withhold  the details of said lust. Children aren't able to process that much sexiness.

Man, I'm not feeling warm at all, despite being bundled up like an Eskimo with the flu. What is wrong with me? Maybe this is a sign I should move to a warmer climate. Is the moon as tropical as they say it is? If so, I'm packing my trunks and some suntan lotion and getting the eff off this planet.

Since you asked, I am quite intrigued with the current Celtics lineup. KG is back, The Truth is healthy, Jeff Green is back, Jason Terry and Courtney Lee (two great acquisitions) are on board, Rondo could easily have an MVP year, Jared Sullinger could make a significant impact as a rookie, Avery Bradley and Chris Wilcox will be back, Darko could prove why he was a top draft pick, Brandon Bass will probably be even better. Should be a good season, but I'll miss most of it. No cable TV, son.

 So what did we learn tonight? 1. I can't seem to warm up 2. I catered to a primal urge for almost the entire day at the expense of things like focusing on work that I was being paid to do and I'm too cowardly to go into depth with you about it. 3. I'm intrigued with the current Celtics lineup.

So, yes, another riveting, thought-provoking post. I would never insult you with anything less. Now go take your tops off and run across lawns and up and down streets with your arms raised above you and whoops and hollers jettisoning from your maws. If enough of us do it, the world will become a much nicer place.

Hope you all got out and voted today. Now we wait and see who will occupy the throne.

Adios, banditos.

Everything in its right place

Today was a mixed bag but predominately positive. Most of my interactions went well; a couple involved flirting, others were lighthearted, and, even at the RMV, no assholes. So what made the day a mixed bag was waiting for an hour and a half to be served at the aforementioned RMV. The clerk was sweet, though (she referred to me as "honey" at least twice - guess I'm sweet, too) and I was able to advance one step closer in the process of getting my new car. Also preventing the day from being pleasant from top to bottom was my commute home from work. Let's leave it at that.

Here's a question: When you hop on Facebook and say to yourself, "I think I need to remind everyone to get out and vote even though virtually everyone else on this site has already posted as much", are you thinking clearly or are you being a bit of a fuck? Really, if people need seventy eight reminders (or guilt trips?) that today is election day and if you don't get out and vote you are profoundly more evil than the world's most vile and abusive satanist, then maybe these people shouldn't be voting; you know, because they're idiots.

Ah, I guess I'm just being a grump about it - it's not well played to fault people for trying to be good citizens - but sometimes I wonder (late at night after the tears have dried up) if some of these reminder posts make any kind of a difference. Do I ever stop and ask myself if I'm making any kind of difference by posting nothing at all? Nope. And then there are other times, like after a fresh kill, when I think people should shut their mouths and stick to posting pictures of their dogs, cats, and babies.

A long, vigorous session of yoga tonight. Felt great. I think I'll meditate later, too. I've had some inner turmoil of late, but I've been feeling better. There are ups and downs, fluctuations. All you can hope for is that you meet each situation authentically. In other words, do your dharma, son.

I'm thinking a shower sounds good right about now. I may watch Murnau's Sunrise later on if time permits. Probably, though, I'll work on music. Someone asked me the other day if I've been playing with anyone. "Almost", was my reply. That's the way it's been, near misses and vague scheduling, but I'm confident I'll eventually find people to collaborate with. I'm also in the market for people to conspire with, but that is a discussion for another time.

G'night, you downy lambs. And don't forget to vote tomorrow; you'll feel like a titan.

These thoughts I have seem to pass me by like a cloud

I saw Cloud Atlas earlier today. Roger Ebert's review swayed me. I knew little about the movie, save that it was based on a book, told six separate and possibly interconnected stories that spanned centuries, was highly ambitious, featured Thom Hanks and Halle Berry, and  a lot of people found it to be profoundly confusing. Not a bad foundation as far as I was concerned, but my interest wasn't piqued enough to make an effort to see it in the theater. When I read Ebert's glowing review, I figured the film was worth checking out sooner than later, so off I went to The Somerville Theater with the hope of having my entire being pulverized into psychedelic oblivion. That hope wasn't exactly dashed, but it manifested in a manner far less intense.

I won't provide my own review, but I will say that I enjoyed the film quite a bit and it has stayed with me. Say what you want about Cloud Atlas, but one thing is certain: it is thought provoking. One of Ebert's correspondents, Omer M. Mozaffar, wrote a great piece about it. In it, he opines that the film is about love, among other things.

...  the film's ultimate binding force, binding together the entire galaxy, is true love. But, anyone who knows the Wachowski films, already knows this point. The whole "Matrix" trilogy leads us to this point. As is true in the "Matrix" films, the true love this film seeks is unbound by any constraints. Here, lust also becomes a constraint against love. This movie, however, takes love further. In some of the threads, that true love is a deep love between two equals. In some of the threads, it is the love of a parent and child. In some of the threads, it is the love of the rescued for a rescuer. In some of the threads, that love is loyalty to fellows or humanity.

But, the love of "Cloud Atlas" is not merely something rational, antiseptic and platonic. Rather, it is compulsive. Again, it is a love that someone cannot, not have. In Rumi's language, it is fire that ignites life. It is not mere wind; it is fire. And, anyone who does not have this fire, need not be alive. In the film, anyone who does not have this fire, has probably surrendered his/her humanity to the above-mentioned cages, waiting to be devoured by the conspiratorial system. That love is something that reaches into the most intimate places of your being, and cannot exist without connecting with someone else. That love becomes something produced by the two of you, yet not belonging to either of you. It is a greater work of art than even a masterpiece composition.

 So, the film is ultimately asking if you have ever experienced that true boundless love. I do not think that I knew love until the births of my daughters. Until they arrived, I was essentially an ascetic of sorts, detached from the world. And, they arrived and became my world. And, through them, I was exposed to love in all directions. I think every parent understands this. And, when I follow the story of the two Wachowskis, I find myself thinking that I am witnessing a special, true love between two siblings. In another time and place, a related pair would have split. I wonder, though, how many of us find that fire of love in another person, where physical union becomes a taste in that transcendence.

Of late, my mind has been heavy with the idea of the love Mozzafar describes. I can't say I've known it, though perhaps I've been close, and that has been a source of sadness in my life. One thing Cloud Atlas illustrates, though, is that our lives can change quickly and dramatically and not always for the worse. And that's what I tell myself whenever I feel the pangs of lack. Not sure I want a bunch of mewling, screeching toddlers to remedy that lack, however; a girlfriend/wife and a kick ass dog will suffice. Ok, maybe a kid or two, but they'll have to measure up to the young, Sixth Sense era, Haley Joel Osmont or they'll be summarily deposited on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage. 
 
So go see Cloud Atlas; your soul, if you have one, will be invigorated. It will thank you for the nourishment. With so many remakes and reboots being spewed out of Hollywood with the excess and mess of a bukkake party, it's nice, even cleansing, to see something this ambitious and moving being produced. And, now that I think of it, there are at least three other films I'm interested in seeing in the theater: Argo, Looper, and Flight. A renaissance? That would be pissah!

It's chilly. Turned the heat on for the first time since last winter. We made it to November. Not bad. Probably could have done without tonight, but there's no point in being uncomfortable, which we were starting to feel. So let there be heat!

And let there be coffee. I made some earlier with the french press Spira got me for Christmas last year and I want more. See ya later, gators.

Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud

There are people, some of whom I know, that 100% believe this planet is not going to be inhabitable in the coming years due to climate change. Whatever they believe the cause(s) to be be, they forecast the same grim outcome. With such a belief, you'd think that would hold them back from having kids; you know, because essentially you'd be introducing a human being to a life, perhaps a very short one, of misery and horror, and that would be a bit of an assholey, downright evil, thing to do. Yet these people, the ones I know at least, are respectable and caring and not evil assholes. So how is it they act in a profoundly contradictory different way than their character would suggest?

Well, my bonnie readers, it's like this: People are contradictory and often more selfish than selfless. Even with the belief that our species is on the verge of extinction, it's not that hard to convince yourself that "Maybe it will be our little boy or girl that fixes the climate and saves mankind" or that "Maybe things won't be as bad as they're starting to look". How about this: maybe you just really want to have a baby and are willing to tuck away a belief or two that might, if available, be meddlesome enough to prevent that from happening. Huh? What about that? That's what I thought.

Anyway, as I said, we're a contradictory lot, us ego-dominated beings of energy hurling through the cosmos, lost to our true nature, what we once were. Angels of light, we soar towards.....

Whoah, hold up! Starting to get all New Agey there. My apologies. Maybe it's because I've been reading from A Course In Miracles again (After the inner strife I'd been going through, it was needed.). Anyway, all I'm saying is that some people have kids despite their belief that our planet is rapidly becoming a horrible place to reside upon. And I find that odd, but not that odd. Oh, I don't even know what I'm saying. If this post is offensive to you or you hate its guts for making no sense or you think it's preachy or judgmental, you'll get no argument from me.

Alright, cohorts, off to other things. Halloween was last night but I had almost zero involvement with it, except I did watch the most recent episode of The Walking Dead (That new character, The Governor, well, I'm not sure how I feel about the acting job being done there. I don't know, but my guess is the guy is English or Australian. It seemed his accent shifted several times throughout the episode; it was distracting. Anyway....).