All this shit hurts my heart

It really does brah. Too much so. Its almost your birthday. Can't imagine how your family is dealing.

Time travel

Think madoka but with a twist. I like that (spoiler) Homura keeps going back in time to save her buddy Madoka and it just makes her so bitter. She watches her die so many times, fails so many times, yet perseveres. It was fucking powerful once you realized it but i also like the gunslinger's version of creating multiple timelines. After (spoiler) Jake dies and goes back to New York he starts having memories of multiple times. This eventually drives him mad and compels him to find the bridge to Roland and co. I love this drive. I love this compulsion both of these characters have with fate. The difference being Homura wanted to buck fate and save a friend, but unknowingly created an even stronger destiny for the adorable Madoka while Jake fought to realign his. Seemingly, the beam ran through both of them as it techinally would. I love the notion of fate but its only really romantic if your fate is something extraordinary . Like, no one would want to read a story of a person who was fated to die from a peanut allergy behind a 7/11 after a fairly average life. Sure, some really cool things may have happened between their birth and their peanut demise but its always the beginning and the end we remember the most. just like with a new love, we always remember the first moments of passion and the fizzling end that comes to all.

I dont know where i was going. Just jamming to some tunes and letting the thumbs do the talking. later gator.

Can you feel it

There they stood. Tall as great oaks with their feet rooted to the ground with similar authority. The wind whipped and howled, trying to tear them down but they didnt waver. Ancient things, they lived in tales older than the palace walls and the ruins they were built from. for centuries they stood unmoving, silent reminders of what lies beyond their shadow, what terrible things lurk in the beyond. Tonight is their festival. A time to celebrate their existence and their eternal protection. The feasting started in the midday with offerings of wheat and corn and meat brought to their feet. As the sun slid behind the mountains to west, the fires began to crackle and dance. The crowds, freshly woken from a post feast nap, gathered and moved with renewed vigor. They danced in circles around the fire. Their faces gleamed with sweat and the flicker of orange flame painted their faces and gleamed brightly in lusty eyes. The dancing decayed from ritualistic swaying and counted steps to intermingling of men in women in moves of obvious courtship. This was a night of sin, a show for the guardians whos hearts still beat with hot blood. 

The sounds of joining souls could be heard just out of the reach of the fires. More and more people, drenched in sweat and smelling of spiced liquor, would peel or be peeled away from the dancing firelight. It was a time of tradition, a time of lust, a time of sacrifice. Between the moans and cries of pleasure the steady and slow drum beat of the bearers could be heard coming from the darkness. Their tempo was slow, steady, and infectious. The dancing bodies moved in time. As the steady beats grew closer a new sound could be heard. Bells. The bells of the offering jingled and rang in time with the beat. As the bells got closer and louder the number of those still on their feet by the fire dwindled faster to retreat into the darkess to join with another. 

The drummers could be seen now. Their white cloaks glowed pale in the dark as they approached the flames that never seemed to dwindle. Like ghosts they slipped from shadow and into the light, their faces hidden behind wooden masks painted white with the prayers etched into them. The drums were simply constructed but were painted with ornate symbols, the words of the gods. They came in twos, the drummers, and split to either sides of the fire still beating the same tempo. The bells, and their players, were next. Women and men dressed in white cloth draped over their naked bodies somberly came from shadow. Like wraiths, their approach was terrifying and mystical. Their faces were uncovered, showing the tears that streamed down their cheeks in great rivers. They did not weep or sob though, the only sounds they made were the bells that decorated the leather straps that bound their arms behind their backs. 

The drummers began to pick up the pace as the wraiths approached large piles of dead grass and dried wood. Four pyres were readied, two for the women and two for the men. The tempo quickened as volunteers helped the the offerings onto their individual platforms, the bells on their straps rang as they tied the straps tightly across timbers erected in the middle of the pyres. The drumming quickened more and more with syncopated patterns making themselves heard. Primal and raw the moans in the dark matched the new rhythm. 

Lorn

Discovered a new band (new to me) that ive really been grooving to. Lorn (from the title) is an American Dj who specializes in heavy synth and moody beats. i first started listening after hearing the single acid rain which had a video of dead cheerleaders aggressively dancing in an abandoned diner. something about the feel of it, the drama, was really inspiring. like it inspired this kind dread that was both sexy and frightening. Really neat stuff. I kind of feel like spending a day just jamming to it and seeing what kind of words come out. With the synth heavy beats i wouldnt be surprised if some leather clad vampires or some other typical 90s shit came roaring out.

Peace

Dusty beginnings

It all started here in this dusty, stereotypical hotel room in the desert with a bed full of noisy springs and stains hidden in the chaos of the carpet pattern built to do just that. Here is where is where the snake will bite its own tail in that endless loop. My memories, such as they are, were nothing but tangled wire in mind. Barbs along their lengths poke and damage me as I try and trace them from origin to now. The pain of death, the sorrow of people's leaving, the pleasures of sleepless nights, all were tangled together in a mess with no beginning or end, only the endless loop. Time has been funny to me lately. It ebbs and flows incoherently as if drunk leaving me the one to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. I have stared down the tunnel of death more than a few times, and a few times walked to its end, but still here I sit in dusty jeans in a dusty room with a mind full of dust. That is all that is left of me, what I was who I was, dust. Nothing but the powdered remains of a life half lived rest on me and fall to the floor in this tired room. The water in the bathtub is cooling, and the cuts will hurt more. That's fine. What's the infinite pleasure of rest without a little pain?

Far away from a hotel room with cooling, empty path, and way before the room was event rented the day started with such promise. Fall in Arizona was always a subtle treat. Granted, the drama of leaves changing color wasn't a part of the play here but the feeling of cooling weather and shorter days triggered lazy feelings in comfortable chairs. Now, that is what I wanted. The traffic on the interstate was creeping along at what felt like only a breath faster than a jog. Taillights gleamed rhythmically ahead as brakes were consistently tapped with impatient feet. My own joined the light show without missing a beat. The miles before home always seemed to stretch the longest. On the radio a monotone man was describing delays on Interstate 10 due to a roll over that blocked all east bound traffic. Now you tell me, I think. Not when I was further west, the stretch of cars that now blocked my travel nowhere in sight, and with the thought of taking a wistful little detour. Now, like everyone else, I am trapped here. I was in no hurry to be home though and the sun was only just setting behind me with a cool breeze drifting in from my open window.

The Rural Juror

Lolololl

Election results

Fuck. really didn't expect that. Hillary is completely unelectable though, and the DNC shot themselves in the foot with the collusion. oh well. At least it's over. In my opinion, the main reason Hilary lost was her overt ambition. I can understand, she's probably wanted to be behind that desk for the last 20 years or so, but her desire for it more than likely burned more than a few bridges. I mean, she tried running against the power house that was Obama 8 years ago in her first primaries and found out that she is incredibly unrelatable. Then, she climbs to secretary of state, eyeballing the presidency the whole time. She then starts campaigning like 2 or 3 years in advance, no doubt greasing wheels and twisting arms the whole time. I'm not saying that out of some prejudice, its just what I feel and what I have gathered from the DNC leaks. T

Wherever you are

Let's get loud like thunder. Been creeping on Shaed and their YouTube a lot for that song (Thunder) as well as Just Wanna See. It's super funny since I wasn't really into those songs before the concert but now I can't get enough of them. Every time I'm at work I pop them on and jam to them at least twice. Something just so damn catchy about them plus seeing them live really just internalized it for me. So, now I am sitting here (waiting on this weird imaging issue on the mining systems to complete) jamming along again and reading the lyrics. Typical lovey dovey stuff that normally I don't like but I guess I have made an exception for them. Well, since we are here, lets give a run down

Not much going on lately. Just work and school and school and work. Still super bummed about my Australia trip being pushed back, hopefully it still goes down in January but who knows. Money has been tight lately as the hours here at work have been eaten by the damn labs over at the U. So long, so much time spent up there. Went out a couple of times, even for Halloween. It was surprising to see a costume contest go to a man dressed as Bob Ross (the painter) over a sexy cat woman. Normally, at least from the bar contests I have seen, the sexy woman always prevails. This time though, mostly dudes up there. Granted, I was still grumpy he won considering his costume was probably purchased that night while the guy who dressed as a character from destiny and the couple who went as Jack Skelenton and Sally (who both probably spent more than a few hours getting them together) didn't even place. Some total bull shit right there, but then again the spectators were drunk so...

Goddamnit. Something is wrong with this recovery dongle. Well, back to work

New post

Coming soon.  thinking something dirty . ...hehehe