Fading angster ❙ hiver, solstice

Okay this one is short I swear.
I'm here before the clock strikes twelve.
I feel joy, for it is the winter solstice, and I haven't blogged at night in such a long time!

Mon arbre favoris; ma stabilité naturelle

Segue equivocation into Grammatical commentary

Oh hey, I think it's another one of those "it doesn't matter what you write as long as you write" kind of posts, so I better watch out how I'm going to format this one lest someone try to infer some deeper meaning from the stylistic choices that I make about how I write and present said writing.

I'm in a slowed-down reality because although I'm pretty much doing some freewriting/free-journaling again, it won't purely be this method because I'm using pen and paper first and then transcribing onto the screen. Thus my idea-to-writ time has changed.
I type much faster than I write and that's a double-edged sword because, generally speaking, this difference in speed enables me to publish a lot of junkspeedily-typed things out there - sometimes even imaginary words - and it also enables me to be far more efficient, if not prolific.

Un des chats qui m'apporte un support moral sans équivoque avec ma vie d'écrivain non-payé

Words, clouds, lists, material

I learned a technique a few years ago. It's not a particularly secret or innovative mode of behaviour, but because it was explicitly taught to me by a group facilitator and our collective temporally-conscious inputs as group members at one of the many support groups I've attended in the Big Smoke, it holds a special place in my hippocampus (or wherever it is that long-term memories are stored; I know and remember that it's not Broca's area).

Anyway all you need is a 1 pen, 2 paper, 3 the capacity to write lines & words, and 4 a meticulous, obsessive, goal-driven personality that constantly bombasts you with curious ideas that seldom mesh together except in the nether realm, like a series of bad staccato notes slightly off-tune from one another, written on the walls of an empty, desolate, and capitalistically barren grand piano ballroom - think a mix of Mr. Kalorium's Lonely Western Shoppe and a dusty composer's den. That or an automaton who can do it for you.

If you meet only 3/4 requirements for the technique, that's okay: you might get some benefit out of it just the same, but beyond the 50% and I make zero claims as to the efficacy of this technique for countering boredom and the growing unease at the lack of balance between your ego and your id.

You make lists.
It doesn't matter when.
This is a list.
But it's a faiku.
And then you cross off things that are done.
Again it doesn't matter when but convention seems to indicate that it's a good idea to cross something off at the end of the day, or, if you're feeling bold & disorganized like I sometimes just am, at the end of the week, fortnight, month, and - do I dare dream - the end of the year.

Anyway that's the technique that I claim as my own to make me feel like I accomplished something during some of my downspiral, Laura days. Remember her, reader?

Drawing art seems to help, too, just don't go submitting your *ahem* early works to OCAD anytime soon or else I might have some competition for my loosely abstract representation of what it's like to be a materialist obsessed with sounding cool in english. Or like, whatever, man.

Sharpie on construction paper

Happy chair-tonique: Partie un + deux + trois

Why does no one in the city care about health?

Partie 1 - Friday the last of November


Aside from the fact that Hayley sings to "stop asking why" and the fact that some of my voices are making it incredibly difficult to focus, I think it's completely bonkers that adults who care about their mind & body get completely shafted by corporations. I'll give you three examples. Pardon the grammar - as usual, what.

If I want to practice yoga in a clean (read: free from cat dandruff), fresh, and safe studio, I have to pay upwards of $12 for simply doing my thing and I can't bring my own food because it tends to smell too offensive to the vegan + vegetarian crowd that, last I checked, was a majority in these places. And I think wool is an awesome material.

If I want to meet new people at cool hangout spots, they all sell overpriced junk like beer, grain-based foods (too much popcorn, man...), and otherwise high-carb frankenfoods that usually cause long-term dysfunction in the brain.

If I want to play a new sport, even the community centres cost me too much: there used to be drop-in programs that were free. The only cost was your time spent enjoying community, team-based games, and if the government employees didn't set up the space, it was not a problem to set it up yourself - as long as you cleaned up after so that the the next eager facility users wouldn't grumble.

I know! I need decent, enjoyable, good-stress work in Toronto. The problem is I spend(t) my money on stupidly overpriced things like the aforementioned junk foods and - let's be honest - stupidly overpriced marijuana and vaporizers (and their accessories) last time I had a job and I'm desperately trying to save to lead a less stressful life - in the future, whatever that is.

I love gaming. Why is no one (read: my empty social life) into the same things I'm into like card games without lattes, or tabletop games without acohol, or even PC games without lonely individual booths? More importantly (for many of you), why is all the food at 90% of the Toronto & bar buildings just NOT good for me (and consequently, you)? Why does no one care about their health just like I do? It just ain't right, and no one believes in the power of food to heal as opposed to sustain or harm. It's sickening that it's so hard to find a place to enjoy my favourite hobbies with others who are also part of the human family (and personal social fabric).

-Part one is drawing to a close-

L'action de merci

Happy (American) Thanksgiving!

I've been thinking about continuing with my gratitude journal.
I think that many people might argue that being thankful only once a year might not be conducive to being happy all the time.
Does it necessarily follow that being thankful every day of every year will lead to more happiness?
According to one robust source, it can.

A funny dilemma spurred this blog post. On the one hand, the above source mentions reduced materialism as a positive side effect of keeping a gratitude journal. On the other, I need to locate or buy a new gratitude journal to write in; this makes me wonder if I'm being materialistic by offloading my gratitude journal to my blog.

You and I might know that I promise things in writing that I don't often follow through on. If you look back at some of my posts, some of them ancient, some of them recent, you will have a hard time finding patterns. That's because I'm constantly reinventing myself, and I'm thankful that I have the time to pretty much compose whatever I want, whenever I want whilst my basic living expenses are paid for - for the most part - by my nuclear family.

Alors aujourd'hui, pour l'action de grâce américaine, je remercis les ainés dans ma vie, et j'exprime de la gratitude pour le fait que j'ai un emplacement quasi-sacré où je peux m'exprimer sans être attaqué par des gens que je ne connais pas.

Since I'm 99% canadian, it's difficult for me to speak about a holiday that I don't really relate to. So I will continue to write about my daily life, and in doing so, I hope you will be inspired to, mayhaps, take up writing as a hobby.

Medicontemplate

I dread meditation. I really do. I've read hundreds of pages about it and I still dread the word. Notwithstanding the fact that I practice it on a semi-regular basis - usually in the mornings (because the elders tell me it's easier to do it then), it's just too mainstream for me to feel cool about it.
I prefer not to think about it because I fear that I will mess up a tradition that sounds an awful lot like the word "medication".

Have you taken your meditation today, Mr. Ghoule?
No, I'm afraid not.
Oh? Why not?
My back hurts like mad, goddamn you, and all these chairs are made for either older or shorter people.
Just follow your breath!
Yeah, but my diaphragm is weak because of all the -cold substances- that were drawn in by it and my throat is sore from all the anti-meditative states I find myself in and, furthermore, the echoing voices I constantly cannot ignore do not care about what I see; they only care about what I feel.
Just let the breath flow naturally.
-_- 

---

I can't believe people get paid to instruct people how to breathe.

Souvenirs day of it

I walked - that's a given.
J'ai marché - c'est sûr et certain.

J'ai trouvé un évènement dans le magazine NOW: une marche guidée à Toronto pour se rappeler du "Women's Mounted Land Army, 1919". J'ai découvert que cette marche se passait dans mon coin, et, en 15 minutes (ou moins), j'ai décidé de m'y rendre tout habillé en mode hiver et... rien.

Personne. Well, there were people, and it seemed like a walker might have been there for said event, but she continued on her way. There was a backpacker, with patchouli backpacks and a movable plus-sized basket, but he continued along the way.

Je ne regrettes pas m'y être rendu car la neige était follement douce, et marcher comme un pinguin m'a fait du bien.

I'll make my way out of the labyrinth

Inspired by Firewind

Dutifully, I searched for a band starting with the name and, rather, the letter D. Stream-of-consciousness makes me feel like I must keep going forwards, but the lack of english of the anglo kind makes it difficult for me to feel safe online - and offline - any more. Speaking, I mean, writing of/about mores, I am questioning my choice to stick to a sociological inquiry of society.

A clerical use of paragraphical grammar makes it easy for me to claim that I know how to write. I refuse to cite sounds. I refuse to cite sights. I refuse to cite optics, and I refuse to cite memory. How will Broca's area survive the lattice?

Find out next time on another renaming of A kaleidoughscope of writings, the first time, ladies and gentlemen (now it gets difficult), that I refuse to bow down to people that sound like machines.

No more pretending to be a king, no more princes then.

Give yourself up

Only positive things!
Fire and faerie, it’s awesome to be in a 2019 society.
The music is practically free when you take the time to find and appreciate its artistry, and I have access to safe medicinal plants. It’s gratifying being here and appreciating what I live with.

I make chocolate. It’s great: I buy it, and then I add coconut oil, and then I freeze it. It’s calming and grounding to craft time up in the kitchen, the beautiful place where I live to eat, and the chocolate turns out great because I spend time thinking about what I am doing in said kitchen.

I had a good day with a good amount of sunshine. With less yelling, I can listen with softer ears.

Too much tiletwitch

You know what? I’ll just insert some random pic to enable a return to the past in the future. Am I tired of writing, am I exhausted, or am I captivated too often by the bright lights? All good questions worthy of their own time limits, I suppose.

The age of intensity

Age of intensity conjures up an image of how one could perceive a demanding and controlling medical system. By this, I mean that I find it difficult to stay on one topic when all I can think about it is how exact such a system can be.

The grammar is a mystic's tool. By rearranging different rules in writing, different rules in speech, and different rules of the society's choosing, control is de facto present because of the governing rule of grammatic artists' collective consciousness and influence on complexity of neccesary said grammatical rules. In other words, oppression and intensity are like twins on a beach.

What about limiting the car choices? What about limiting how many flights one can order through a phone? What about strangulation of individual freedoms - who will dissent when the counter and pro cultural movements waste time, money, and future and past space.

Losing track of time and losing battles against meditative wars is a scary concern.
The Black Clouds and Silver Linings are still playing, and I hit publish.

Edit: Jul 2022 I'm going to leave this post up because it's one of the weirdest things I've ever written, and that's saying something. Enjoy.

Dragons and demons and swords and tape

I hope you're getting the shield
Yeah, well, I'm still listening to Drake and wishing I had more time to learn how to re-enjoy my ex-hobbies

It turns out that sometimes, when people say "oh, my ex" they're not actually referring to ex-girlfriends (or boyfriends; ex-girlfriends before ex-boyfriends on Thursdays because Thursday is ladies' night pretty much everywhere) - they're in fact referencing past experiences, because women aren't objects.

Is writing a hobby? I had the neighbours (where neighbours are things I heard) mock me for holding on to this lifeline, and sometimes I find myself doubting if the neighbours are real because they sound like fire, police, and ambulance sirens. According to the neighbours, they're real, and sometimes I treat my housemates like neighbours because if I don't I worry that I, too, have an aging memory.

"I've never really been one for the preservation of money"
Probably because I feel one for the loss of the penny
Rolling pen bags in the dime daily doing rows
Selling notes like similes weekly whilst rolling in the k-scope

Anyway, the big bus is still in my life. The big bus is the big tiger, except the big tiger doesn't pretend he's a bus because if he did, he would be Hobbes and I'm kind of sick of Hume, too, but don't let el tigre know that I came back and edited my blog after publishing another entry.

Rocaillichou et le masque de fer

Il y a longtemps déjà, il existait une roche parlante, si polis à cause du temps et l'expérience que plusieurs poissons, qui habitaient proche de la roche, décidèrent de la nommer "Rocaillichou" en l'honneur de la pagaille de quatorze dix-huit, la tourbillonnante.

Rocaillichou était une roche resplendissante, même quand elle était à l'ombre du soleil et, parfois, pouvions-nous l'entendre chantonner avec une voix rauque (et rocailleuse quand il neigeait). Nous nous réfugiâmes loin de la roche quand il pleuvait; autrement, nous les molécules ombrées, admirâmes Rocaillichou de loin quand la pénombre tombait. Nous nous cachions parce-que le fluorure chantonné invisible de Rocail' pouvait nous faire réagir d'une façon inconstante.

Les molécules particulaires qui habitaient plus loin que nous, et par conséquent qui n'avait pas la joie d'entendre Rocail' avec sa voie parsemé de trouvailles bijoutées, se promenaient sans joie - non à cause du manque de fluorure, mais plutôt à cause de la nobilité talqueuse qui égratignait leur pesanteur historique. En autre mots, ils étaient malléables, tandis que nous étions rigides mais plus rapproché de Rocail', et par conséquent choucouprés.

À être continué...

Prise singulaire

Caught in the middle... of my university degree

Don't need no one else, I can run away from it all by myself

I don't need no help, I can start flame wars all by myself

Don't need no one else, I can walk it all by myself

I don't need no help, I can write this blog out by myself

... and brute force for all

... always double check what blog you're writing to because sometimes I write things that people do not have the capacity to understand because they are also disabled. Oh, and my doctoral thesis is still in the works and I am not great with procedural errors because I do not have a reason to care about them because I am finally institutionalisationally free.

I must be doing something write with my life because I am a smart human being who seldom gets As in school because getting there is a complete nightmare and I really, really, really dislike vehicles with 0-1 people in them.

You know, I'm going to continue writing in english for a while and be greatful for the fact that I'm still not writing in french because apparently languages that humans speak are not as important as C+. /s

In other news, I am grateful for the fact that I managed to avoid reddit for an entire month+.

Lastly, I am expressing gratitude for all the music I get to listen to without fear of being pursued by the law because I actually pay for my own life now instead of having my parents do and decide everything for me.

My english writing is pretty violent, but it helps me feel better so I write it out and sometimes, reader, I publish without thinking about who is out there reading this because I don't get constructive feedback anymore. To be fair, if you're reading this, it's possible that you don't get feedback on things you write either, but my time is limited due to my heartbreaks and I don't mind making my writing illegible so that robots cannot skim the data and rehash it for other people to take and make their own... without my feedback, I am an empty shell of a writer.

Words have power, so I know I must be careful with what I publish, but because I have always considered this place my safehaven, I think the Canadian and American lawyers can get off my back: I have not made a dime off my high school project (and I still don't have that diploma!), but hey, I made it to the #1 university in Canada so maybe if the people who know nothing about my life could stop being obnoxious, my life would be sooooo much better.

I'm reading a book called Whale Music by Paul Quarrington and, so far, I find that it is pretty great because the word Toronto is mentioned and a major part of my identity is the fact that I continue to live here (but I complain about noise complains more than 25 years ago)(or not, I really can't remember).

COMODO CA how ya feelin".

Screams so real

Hey, mister murder I; hey, mister murder I; bought you a plastic mouse; needed four pairs of eyes; I left two of them - behind!

Inspired by: A Metric Fire Inside

Steptember climber

I was once asked: "Gabe, why do you front so much"?
I replied: "I don't even know what fronting means".
If it means being inauthentic, then I have fronted before, because to live authentically is to write and communicate in a way that transcends basic barriers of speech, and, insofar as platitudes and weather talk loudly, writing softly is far more challenging for me when I don't have the right people and influences around me to effectively convey what my mind wants to say.

Unreleased and keyworded - Freewriting the Grey

Robbed the arctic.

I’m sick of citing musical influences, so I’ll just say that I listened to Paramore radio... again. And Mississippi John Hurt as performed by my dad.

I went somewhere I should not have yesterday. In this place, I found it difficult to breathe. How are you going to tell people to breathe if you can’t listen? How can you tell people to listen if they can’t breathe? No subject matter, NO PROBLEM.

Arraigning your own way

I went my own way, too

Master list of labelling fits

J'écris souvent des listes. Ces listes, souvent bureaucratique en nature, esquivent mon regard quand il m'arrive d'oublier que je les ai écrites. Ces listes, je les trouves importantes car elles me gardent centré sur la folie sans équivoque que je subjonctivize et bastardise en forme écrite. C'est absurde, mais c'est comme ça que j'écris maintenant.
Une liste qui archive des listes n'est pas gaulois; par contre, plusieurs listes qui ont la capacité d'organizer plusieurs listes ... c'est quoi un minitel?

'cause no one helped me, no one helped me except the 'hood

The music in this city is truly horrendous after a long weekend (especially when the locals get to pick).

Ceci étant écrit, je vais continuer d'achalander le traffic pédestre en compétionnant avec les automobiles perdues et, en autant qu'il y a un chauffeur et plus, je suis heureux

Title inspired by whatever the hell is playing on the kitchen radio (usually boom, but sometimes Ez Rock y Mix).

C'est absurde!

Craz-ghee-ly

J'ai fait une recette aujourd'hui, une recette que je voulais faire depuis plusieurs année. C'est une recette de ghee. Je l'ai réussie, et la couleur dorée m'excite et mon sens de créativité gustative réagit.

La recette, bien sûr, viens du livre Nom Nom Paleo par Michelle Tam et Henry Fong et m'a pris environ une demi-heure. Je n'ai aucune affiliation avec eux sauf le fait que j'emprunte leur livres à la bibliothèque publique de ma ville.

Je n'ai pas encore de photos à partager et, comme je suis habitué de procrastiner avec mes promesses écrites, je n'ai malheureusement pas d'autres informations à partager.

J'ai pris ma bicyclette et j'ai pris une bouffée d'air frais en préparation pour l'automne, la meilleur saison pour prendre un retrait de l'activité échaffaudant de la ville.

Bonne journée et à la prochaine entrée!

Champion monstré

J'avais des soucis et je me sentais tracassé par les automobiles du coin quand j'ai décidé d'écrire quelque chose de différent pour une fois. Il faut dire que je me réessaye en français, et comme je n'ai plus accès à mes anciennes connections Ventrilo, il est très difficile pour moi de rester concentré car je me rappelais que, jadis, j'étais plus confortable quand j'écrivais devant mon ordinateur à moi et à moi uniquement.

Essaie

Coucou!

(^_^)

Le poisson ainsi coloré

It is a crazy thing that I continue to write despite oppressive conditions.
The oppression is a disambiguated word that really does not belong in the city that I live in.
I continue to write, I continue to listen, I continue to pretend to remember what offices I used to camp in.
You may find it strange that these words, ever so effortlessly written, continue to haunt me, but I am frankly sick of hearing things that do not make me feel happy. Writing conveys what I hear, and sometimes all I hear is people discouraging me.
Wanting to convey something that travels near e=mc2 and transcribing it into a continuous theme of x is a wanton thing to do.
I prompted this post by examining a card that beats down any one else.

History bit - un porte-manteau

I spent the majority of the 5th of August obsessing over plant matter.

By using that day for/to lose my time in front of plant matter, il n y a pas d'options francophiles si il n y a personne qui s'intéeresse à mon histoire t ragique, et pourtant... si comédique!

I hate it when people telll me a word is one way, and they tell me then that it's actually pronounced another way. Do I hate the spell check? Who doesn't? Not me! I'm an expert at it, except when it comes to properly construced grammatical sentences.

Une plainte presque bilingue (no phoques to give)

Okay, if you can't tell by now, I suffer from a non-serious condition called VAS. You can google it, but again, google does not endorse or condone such behaviour so do so at your own peril.

 

Writing prompt: European media and products

 

 

Trop de temps ligné aux écrans

Purpose: To shut down YouTube... for good!
Observation: My mom pulled a "burrito" out of the fridge. It was not a cat.
Result: I laughed; my mom told me that I like to play games. Elle m'a dit: "t'aime ça jouer des tours, hein? Hihi! :D"

Santé CDN, plantes, et phoque la combustion?

Je ne penses pas que c'est fair que une corporation gigantesque comme Storz & Bickel peut vendre à un prix exorbitant leur produits sur le marché canadien sans faire de la market research.

Je sais ce don je parles: j'ai acheté et effectivement essayé plusieurs de leurs produits sur une période de plus de dix ans à plusieurs emplacement (et surtout, et presque toujours, au centre de l'univers).

Alors, pourquoi leur produits fait en plastique sont t-ils tellement plus cher que les compétiteurs? Pourquoi on-t-ils une certification de Santé Canada avant des compagnies "locales", comme Arizer, Dynavap, ou DaVinci?

Ma théorie est-qu'ils ont payé beaucoup plus cher pour ?? et ultimement, cet argent est allé dans le matériel et accessoires. Exemple: mon kit Dynavap (maintenant disparût à la grande ville) peut-être modifié avec l'ajout d'accessoires. Même chose avec mon MFLB. Et, non, je n'ai pas été payé pour écrire ces observations d'objets.

Mon point est que le gouvernement canadiens fait des idiocies avec leur recommendations génériques comme: "le cerveau arrête de se dévolepper après 25 ans" et "fumer est addictif". La plus grande insulte? Ils mettent encore le Cannabis dans la section "drogues et médicaments" et, à cause de ces recommandations datés, les gens comme moi souffrent parce-que certains organismes non-gouvernmentales veulent maximizer leur profits au dépend des investisseurs et consommateurs canadiens.

These OS & language wars are getting out of hand

Firefox pour la recherche

Cultures

Il n'y avait pas de révolution culturelle avant l'agriculture.

There was no culture before agriculture.

Due Questioning = Due Diligence

Il me semble que voir comment les PMEs fonctionnent reste un monde à découvrir.

J'ai plusieurs questions qui me hantent. L'une d'elles, c'est où puis-je trouver solace; sanctuaire?

Trop souvent, mes questions restent sans réponse, sans contexte, démunies de toute semblance de relations fiable à une grammaire.

Écrire positivement ne vient pas facilement à un écrivrain anglais saisonné.

La minette qui recherche sa maîtresse?

How about a non-opposite favorite option?

Sérieusement... c'est insensé ce qui se passe dans le monde des internautes.

Nous détestons aimer et "liker" etc.

Qui sommes-nous pas? Des homo erectus!
Qui sommes-nous? Des homo sapiens!
Qui allons-nous être? ? 6 ?

 

Is Toronto not made for all season?

The noises carry forward endlessly without the cover of the snow and crystalline water molecules capturing the soundwaves of rage echoing through the snow.

Les effets sonores se propagent sans arrêt sans couverture de la neige qui, si cristallinellement,  deviens de la pluie aethernelle.

Joyeuse fête du Canada 2019 /\ Merry Canada day!

Je vous souhaites de passer une belle journée ensoleillé, remplis d'amour pour notre peuple et de joie de vivre pour la terre.

I am committing to a fully bilingual blog moving forward.
Je promets d'écrire en français aussi souvent que possible.

Prompted by the radio '93

J'ai vraiment aimé mon séjour à High Park!

J'ai observé tellement de nature, parfois écarlate, parfois insensible à mes désirs.
J'ai regardé plusieurs animaux, incluant: les tamias rayés, les écureuils noirs, les chiens...


J'ai entendu des gens rire! C'était une belle journée ensoleillée, et j'ai vérifié que au moins un téléphone fonctionnait.

J'ai parlé en portugais, mais ça n'était pas des phrases complètes.

Writing is supposed to set me free, so why do I feel so imprisoned?

Always consult a professional!

Source used for information: The Field Guide to Mushrooms, by Marie F. Heerkens (based on Field Book of Common Mushrooms, by William S. Thomas

Photography by: GH ©

Full disclosure: I have not consulted a professional to identify the above mushrooms, and I have not gathered enough information to know if these are edible.

WP: Can I accept where I'm at right now?

This post was inspired by a review of an article published in The Atlantic last week, and since I'm not quite sure how to cite e-mails, and since I'm still recovering from not being a university student anymore, I'm just going to say that Sundays with Sisson is the source and finish this run-on sentence by fully disclosing that I haven't actually read the afore-hotlinked article but that the gist of it is as follows:

• More square feet =/ happiness

I can anecdotally confirm that more square feet (when it comes to real estate) doesn't lead to more happiness. My theory is that the bigger houses we build, the more physically divided we become, and, as such, because there's more space between human beings, we physically become lonelier.

The happiest days of my life were spent living in a tiny closet not unlike the one Harry Potter lived in in the first few books (spoiler alert? if you're from the future, which you are if you read this, Harry Potter is arguably the most influential and popular book series of the 2000s). And those days were happy not because of the square footage, but because of the people I lived with.

Anyway, back on the subject matter: Can I accept where I'm at right now?
The fact that I'm frantically writing all these words out to an empty constellation of internet protocols means that I probably have trouble doing that, but hey: at least I'm thinking about it.

Point being: instead of chasing things that don't matter like incredible deals on plants and the latest screen technologies, I should probably focus my attention on crafting better writing.

And so here I am, and I still refuse to triple check my own writing and the 2nd best thing I can do is attach an image that shows that I'm working on being present:

High Park a few days ago. A natural shade of green canvasses the landscape.

 

Cheerful times ahead! Only a few more days until summertime.

Still just me writing things out, but I'll sign with my new pen name:
Kalleigh

Still riding the Raptors wave

The Toronto Raptors won last week, and people were still celebrating en masse downtown this week, which is a pretty awesome thing to be a part of.

I was listening to the radio, some old classic rock tunes playing through my ears whilst I walked and I wondered where to take my legs next. Were it not for the radio announcer providing me with an update on the local pedestrian traffic downtown, I likely would not have found myself at Yonge & Dundas square next.

There, I sat down in a tired heap and waited for entertainment, and entertained I was, for there were three giant TV screens broadcasting live from Nathan Philips Square, the biggest enclave of Jurrasic parkians to be found in Toronto. The mayor, the premier, and even the prime minister were to be seen smiling at the crown and exchanging pleasant formalities with fans and players alike.

Then, a curious thing happened. An announcer not part of the television broadcasts went up on stage at Yonge & Dundas and told everyone to remain calm, and to please not panic, and that more information would be provided shortly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and for a while nothing was out of the ordinary, save for an eerie feeling of unease caused by the rather vague and disconcerting comments by the official.

Minutes later, screaming - and an sudden rush of people. I felt trapped like a skiier caught in an avalanche, and in a split second had to make a choice: get swallowed up by the human stampede or try my best to get the hell out of dodge.

Well, I got the hell out of dodge with a scraped knee and the avalanche of people subsided. Still in a daze, I looked around at the spot where I had been sitting and there was sticky, sugary garbage everywhere.

I shan't forget the June of this year, the month where the Toronto Raptors basketball team won and caused ripples of energy to cascade. And I'm thankful that unlike some other cities, we don't riot over sports. We party, play, and work hard, and that's how we won the NBA championship.

For 2020: GO LEAFS GO!

Minority 1984: Brave New Sunfarm

How about a minority report type thing, where instead of having precogs try to find out where crime might happen we instead have postcogs who try and locate people who play hooky with work and "re-place" them into their dream careers instead of whatever job they're playing hooky with when they come up with these terrible business plans that I see on the telly.

Losing subjects are terribly malicious when you don't know what to write it makes more sense to write something than nothing and nothing published makes for a very bland blog - so is editing a job that can get taken away by robots?
Grammarly would have you believe that you can get easier writing done when a robot helps you along, but I argue that by not purposefully inserting each letter onto the screen you are practicing a loser's ability, which is to say the ability to assure that each word is correct without worrying about spelling, and spelling is sacred.

Some random mushrooms

2024 edit: This was a freewrite exercise.

Food waste

Sometimes, food gets thrown out.

Sometimes, food gets thrown out because it's no longer edible.

I feel bad not for the environment, but for other humanists like me who have tried to help other people out, but instead end up being heavily influenced by algorithms.

I also feel bad for other primates, but does that make me a racist?
It depends on how you define racism.
Racial diversity is a good thing.
Too much racial diversity causes cultural issues.
Ergo, I need to take a break from poor educational practices.

Remembering John "TotalBiscuit" Bain

John has been a role model for me for over 12 years. I will forever remember him as the main voice behind the show EPIC on Warcraft Radio (alongside his co-host, Kikijiki).

His invaluable advice on the game helped me conquer dungeons ranging from Ragefire Chasm to Karazhan. His hilarious commentary helped me get through secondary school whilst raiding with the best WoW players in the world (shout out to Skullcrusher!).

His game critiques as the Cynical Brit have helped and continue to help me make informed decisions about what games to play. His support of the indie games industry had a huge impact on the world, and he is sorely missed.

Here is a tribute video that was made by a fellow fan [LeftHand Monarch] that prompted this post (and which made me cry):

I will keep gaming and I will be a pro gamer. Thank you for all the amazing memories.

Rest in peace John Bain; 1984-2018.

 

Surf log 1

I found myself casually entering URLs in the address bar when I stumbled upon a CBC news site with pictures of athletes who competed in the 2018 Pyeongchang games.

At first I was bemused by the perfectly curated portraits of professional athletes, and then I decided that it would be a good idea to practice guessing their ages. After doing so for a few portraits, I realized that if they were real people and aware of my judgemental gaze, they would likely feel very uncomfortable, so I decided to start playing a different, slightly less judgemental game. However, I found it was a useful exercise to do because it allowed me to categorize the women into potential dating ranges (with the 16-year old clearly completely out of bounds at my hellish age of 28). According to XKCD, the majority of the clearly-out-of-my-league women were in fact part of my potential dating pool (assuming that I eventually do use dating technology).

Instead, I started trying to guess what province they represent, and found that very difficult. Guessing north or south of my location, on the other hand, was fairly trivial.

Next, I wandered off to visit Erin, ON’s website and had a quick look at the pictures of flowers.

And then I started listening to Jimi Hendrix classics (after feeling weirded out by Gentle Giant).

And then I tried to buy newyork.com and decided not to because of their pricing structure.

I think it’s time for another vacation.

Dreaming via Nu Disco

Saw some dragons today.
They seemed weirded out by strange business deals.
I guess that's why they call it a den and not rent.

More artwork for the living
Less time for the dying
Parodies and pranks invading

Discothèques et bicyclettes,
Gendarmes et sauf-respect,
Nous ne savons plus comment profiter du temps qui écoule si lassement

Les ondes me disent que je ne travaille pas assez
Mon corps me disent de manger, manger
Danser c'est la bailande latine

Primal Blue

Full diclosure: The following letter is intended for an immature audience. Please note that improper citation styles ruin the economy. No, but seriously, check out my one and only legit sponsor of this blog: https://www.primalblueprint.com
Oh, and coupon-ing is not an income. 

There once lived an old adolescent who was overweight and lonely. Now, as an adult, he is much less malnourished and still about as lonely, and he no longer weighs 285 pounds like he did at his absolute measured heaviest, but at least he is rediscovering his love of the internet (which was designed and utilized as a communication tool, AFAIK, and not designed for porn, despite what Avenue Q might lead you to believe).

The numbers that speak of my 'ketoprimal' success story include over 101.1 lbs of WHATEVER it is that I lost by eating right and 'swearsweating' (coining this one: when you're angry that you're sweating; similar to 'hangry').

I still love moving frequently, albeit at a hectic pace, which makes me think I have some Korg DNA somewhere but it's probably due to the lack of connection to kingdom animalia that I move around so quickly and yet so infrequently... in front of an electronic screen.

At 28 years old, I ask myself on a daily basis if I'm doing humanity a disservice by 'choosing' not to get intimate but, given the "epidemic of loneliness" that looms over my generation and younger ones, I guess it's an important question to ponder.

I'm not a primal success because I have not found a mate yet and I would probably be dead if I lived in paleolithic times, but I am a success story because I know how to write and express myself through blogging.

That's why I still blog to this day: in the hopes that a future species impossibly wiser than our own will not commit natural fraud ever again by using flawed studies to reinvent the wheel.

I'd like this story to remain private (for the time being) because it is extremely convoluted.

-Gabe-




It's probably a programming error on my side, but I thought I'd let the ever-mysterious "Worker Bee" know anyway just in case it can help someone else feel a cathartic sense of release because they found a place that might publish something I write with no strings attached.

What do you call a dinosaur that knows a lot of words?

UA: A thesaurus?

Recitation

The text that follows the paragraph after this one can also be found here, where I originally wrote it after receiving an e-mail from Mr. Sisson. To find it, you will not need to know the way I think, because that is one thing which only I can truly know at the highest capacity possible.  Long story short, I'm afraid of being seen as a sell out by people who have a terrifically terrible time trying to figure out what point I'm trying to get across on this blog (and those people I can probably count on one hand at this point; but only in a world where people are numbe- HEY WAIT A SECOND)

Le texte qui suit n'a pas été rédigé ni traduis en français car je n'ai pas pris le temps de traduire chaque nuance et chaque mot parce-que ça prendrais du temps que je ne veux pas perdre à traduire quand il y a des gens qui le feraient gratuitement (ou sans autant d'effort que mois je mettrais) pour pratiquer leur faculté de transliteration (ou traduction; je ne suis pas sûr, car la seule différence entre ces deux termes que je voix est que l'un est un mot en anglais, et l'autre ne l'est past).

When I’m in need of a mental boost (or I feel stuck) I go for a walk or a bike ride (or sometimes both), or I solve puzzles in video games or I travel to a different city. Or I talk to my immediate family about the weird society I find myself living in. Or I check Mark’s Daily Apple *cough cough*.

And sometimes I end up in cemeteries, like today. And then I come out of there feeling pretty serious.

A cure for writer’s block that works for me is a technique that my secondary/high school teacher calls (called?) “Free Writing”, which is where ‘no matter what you write down, you just keep writing regardless and never stop to think about spelling or grammer’ (or something like that; I’m paraphrasing) an do far I was doing wellbut now I can’t call it free writing any more because I already used the backspace once or twice or possibly more in this paragraph and I also decided to come back and edit this comment further. Dangling participles be damned.

Anyway; favorite place to get writing done? Trains. I think botanical gardens are great if you don’t spend much time with flowers (especially during the wintertime). Now that Cannabis i.,s.,r., (indica, sativa, ruderalis?) is legal-ish in this country, I wonder if writer’s block might become a thing of the past, since this plant did in fact cause the flourishing of the romantic movement according to one or more experts in the field (i.e. me).

Hey, at least it’s not corn, right?

Also, while I’m writing here, could someone direct me to a (preferably primal) article on the difference between seeds and grains? Because in french, there’s literally one letter’s difference and it makes a huge differenc, apparently.

the end.
… of this comment.

Macadame shimmer

Make way, old man winter

Spring forth and tread in the shallow deeps

Solid idea, solid execution; awful food, weird architecture.

I'm preparing for open mic or practising good judgment or preparing for a career as a writer.

I cook; I wash; I crash

The shirt logo is Yonex

Easter Monday and a Blurred Selfie

The title is fairly accurate for this post.

I'm making a renewed promise to post more multimedia content... but my effervescent love of writing is likely to get in the way of publishing things like audio logs, videos, and hotlinks.

Here's something I reheated last night: roasted Brussels sprouts, bacon, jerk chicken, and mustard. Nutritious, sulphurous, and at times ever-so-delicious!

Good parody ideas

*Cold ones - it's the show with cold wings, and even colder questions...
*Vegan ones - it's the show with lukewarm fermented soy soup, and even more lukewarm questions..
*Hot ones - it's a show with chicken parts and poisonous things, and even more sinister interview techniques
*Extra-hot ones - it's music without treble

This made me chuckle

Macs, PCs, and other Unix systems are mere machines that show us DLC.

Doin' well

You know you're doing well when you taste pure, real cocoa and it tastes sweet.

The ketogenic diet is a strong candidate for the cure of many, many cancers, but don't let big pharma know that.

Karma Aspiration Linger Entity Dorion Ulysses General Houlio Supercedent OP Putrid Evermore

Simple connection, complicated conundrum

As I find myself listening to the infamous Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd (a song only made more popular by its mention in the more famous song, Sweet Home Alabama), I wonder if the energy spent focusing on getting the right grammar and spelling would better be spent praying to the plant gawds (it's cuter to write it this way; trust).

See, I care far too much about these things. I live in a metropolis called Toronto, and you need to be able to focus your energy on the things that make you feel right instead of getting pushed and pulled along the tide of furious creativity; the furious madness of endlessly making more money to buy things we do need, all surrounded by the saturated advertising market that does nothing but encourage people to consume total garbage (i.e. beer, bread, pasta, extremely processed ingredients etc.).

Which is why now I vaporise. And I also vape because it's a fun ritual: I inhale smoke only when I combust, which is pretty rare for me these days. Actually, I don't think I've combusted anything this year, except random incense sticks I find strewn across the shelves interspersed throughout the ancient house I still call home; 24 years.

I find myself getting annoyed at how terrible Alexa is at choosing songs that I might enjoy. For starters, the song after Simple Man is far too rapid for my tastes, and the lyrics depressing as hell. Or maybe I perceive them to be this way: after all, I tend to turn tragedies into comedies (e.g. I thought the ending to A Farewell to Arms was fairly comical...) and comedies into tragedies (A Midsummer Night's Dream, anyone?).

I am so annoyed by the self-described beginner musician who plays his broken guitar endlessly; I can hear the minor notes echo throughout the house, and whilst I try and listen to positive music, it seems to me like I'd rather invent words out of thin air to lose the reader into moving onto something far more interesting, like computer games.

---

Speaking of computers... I still haven't repaired my gaming PC. I'm still stuck using my gaming keyboard, cheap Amazon gaming mouse, and overpriced speakers to connect to the online realm. I just can't seem to do it very long (connect, that is) on my Nokia, because I always end up dropping it eventually and feeling terrible about the amount of manpower (or womanpower, if you want to use ugly irreal words;and women aren't ugly by nature, mind you, for it would be a terrible flaw in logic to deny the antecedent or whatever).

Okay, let's see how well this Charlotte's Web is at calming my hyperactivelyanxious mind. NO, STOP SPELL CHECKING ME, Firefox.

-

Success? It's hard to say; I tend to chain vape, something that is very much akin to chain smoking.. Chain smoking isn't good. Therefore, chain vaping probably isn't great either; and all this is especially true if you're consuming plants without reason.

It's snowing on the streets of New T.Dot City

Springfall is here. Summer is near. I'm inclined to disappear... for a while.

Many baby boomers ruin the economy; I try to fix things

Idiotic human beings in power (read: Trump, Ford, Brexiteers) do not don't give a shiz about Gaia, because someone's spending money where they shouldn't be.

Anyway... provocative text aside... wtf are the liberals doing for car(d) addicts? At least I try on a consistent basis to self-improve.

 The system is rigged against folk like me, sometimes.

*Sigh*

---

GTFO would have been a better title for the movie Get Out; just like Led Zeppelin should have been spelled Lead Zeppelin, in honour of Hydrogen gas.

-

We are addicted to colour.
Bugs are crushed for color.
Are you against crushing bugs? (Generally, yes).
If so, you're not really vegan because you do not care about other human beings.
(There's argument for ya).

Libertad freewrite #x

I write incessantly because I like using adverbs.
I like adverbs because they make things run continuously.
Ergo, I like to use latin because it's not a dead language; it's a language that keeps extant species from going extinct in our minds.

It's so sad that I have so many brilliant ideas; you probably do too, but we're all shackled up by the food we eat.

I want to publish this right now, and I think I should but not before I consider the fact that I can sometimes save a draft instead and come back to it later, something I will certainly not do until this sentence is done; thankfully for me, sentences usually end with a full stop and in this case, there are none to be found unless you're willing to split a semi-colon aka un point virgule.

Remembering the internet

It never ends; the endless chatter is there and is not altogether unpleasant.
In a convoluted way, I end my sentences with a - hey!
Time for sleep; sleep is not for the weak
It is for the nonfaint of heart
My insides are cold
and dark

I got soul but I'm not a Souldier:76

What's the function of x?

It's a variable. That's it.

Marijuana trip

I was walking through Trinity Bellwoods park today, looking for a discreet place to do my business, and nothing happened.

The park was empty.

I saw no more than three human beings, and no less than two dogs. Other than that, all I could see laid out in front of me were endless water molecules strewn across a barren ice land. It's as if the trees were part ice, part wind, and part sunlight.

Dressed up; messed up; put on a show, so the whole damn world's gonna know
That we were here

 Shush; scared to look at things that peer back, it's weird how we fear that

 I bought a bracelet today. It cost me 28 bucks with taxes. I'm hoping it helps some music students in the states somewhere, because normally I wouldn't pay such a high price for such a common luxury.

It's a nice bracelet with 24 interchangeably indifferent coloured beads. And it has a crown on it. I hope I don't lose it like I lost so many things this year, including my sanity.

The walker's truth

WHAT THE ****?! What the ****!? What the ****.

The City of Toronto is -literally- a corporation. What the eff.

SO MANY BROKEN THINGS EVERYWHERE - like bottles and containers, cracking teeth and retainers.

And I conversed with the outside; and all I heard back were more sirens.

More money wasted.

More fake jobs with f**e people doing things that don't matter; why don't people care?

WHY THE  **** ARE PEOPLE SO F***** UP?

WHAT. THE. ****.

No one ever seems to ask why. All they care about is the how... to make money to be happy.

WTF.

I'll build up slowly; it's not easy for me. Maybe you can see that in my writing.

Nexilium.

lYRA = Mana.

I am out of mana.

:'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'(


We are The Unspeakables.

And we are the ones who kept quiet and always did what we were told.

AHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH x2

Originally written on August 26th 2015. I edited out some of the bad swearing.

I still feel so much pain here from the past

I thought I could do it all by myself. I never thought that I would be anyone but myself.

Lately things have been struggling; my dopamine rushes just never stop ending.

I'm not denying myself the sleep I so crave
It feels like a war to take back the night and my dreams are becoming daymares again

I promised older folk I would not consume cannabis

But I still feel so much pain here from the past; I can't sleep I can't sleep I can dream again but I can't sleep with the lights on

Turn off the lights; turn off the lights

It's almost 1 am on the 2nd day of DST (Daylight Savings Time) so in three minutes I'm going to go consume the herb I know the most about

Cannabis indica, with as much CBD as I can find because they bred out Northern Lights to make percentages go higher

I don't care that the older folk don't get the meaning of HARM REDUCTION; IT'S MY LIFE AND THEY'RE FOCOCTED HYPOCRITES WHO CONSUME way worse shit on a daily basis.

And I'm the one who gets drugged AGAINST my will by dumbasses in positions of power

Now that I've made my intent clear, it's time...

Personal hell, l'oubliette, and dihydrogen monoxide

Dehydrate

I've had a rough week, Kal.
Yeah? What's up?
Well, someone robbed me. They stole my Swiss Army Knife.
That really sucks. I know you paid good money for it.
Yeah, I've been losing a lot of my valuables this year. I'm not used to having an object literally stolen from me, though.

How do you feel now?
Well, this morning I feel pretty good. I slept well, whereas the night before was chaos incarnate. And plus I feel like my beard is not the way it should be -
Hey, let's not focus on aesthetics today, okay?

Sure. Stay positive, right? But I'm SO angry!
I'm angry too. Anger is actually really important: without it, it would be impossible to express grief.
That's a really interesting idea, Kal. But how can you prove it?
Well, it's not a matter of proving anything... but if you look at the etymology behind the word "anger", it's a Middle English term, and it stems from Old Norse angr ‘grief’, angra ‘vex’.

-

Je suis vexé. Il y a eu trop d'affrontements envers mon système d'éthique - et le coupable, ça n'est pas seulement les Homo sapiens. Il ne faut surtout pas oublier que dans notre ADN (Acide désoxyribonucléique), il y a aussi du Homo habilis, cette espèce qui pendant des centaines de milliers d'année possédait une maîtrise sur les outils. Je blame le cancer d'une société urbaine, parfois déshumanisante. Effectivement, dans la société dont je fait parti, il y a tellement d'horreurs auquel je suis témoin que maintenant je fais des efforts pourne plus regarder. Je préfère me retrouver avec une amie invisible pour l'instant: l'oubli.

-

And so my personal hell continues; alone, single, but not depressed nor hopeless. Loneliness, the lack of remembrance for ancient stories of old, the blatant abuse of power by authorities; all of this is a personal hell that will eventually dissipate like water evaporates under the midnight sun on a distant planet system named Trisolaris.

Rehydrate

Un peuple lointain

Ant-artica

"When her kitchen had an ant invasion, she greased long stretches of twine with chicken fat and tied a bone to the end in her garden, leading the ants on a savory march outside — cruelty-free pest control." - Petula Dvorak, from the Washington Post

Thus begins my inspiration for this late-night blog post.
Really, all I have to say is that I need some major english writing help, because I'm stuck writing in the first person.

Okay, that's not really all I have to say.

I stumbled upon this article whilst digging deeper into the history of the house I've inhabited for almost 24 years of my life at this point. All I know so far is that arabs lived here before I did, and before that, it was italians. If I go back far enough, I can probably assume this land had been inhabited by some sort of First Nations - maybe the Haudenosaunee? I'm really not sure.

It's nice to acknowledge the past, and in the past, I've dealt with ant invasion. Except instead of doing like Mirka Mišak in the aforementioned quote, I preferred to use a laissez-faire attitude whilst my mother Raided the shit out of the ants. Eventually, we switched to cloves to ward off the rodents.

Speaking of rodents, and more specifically rats, did you know that Alberta managed to entirely rid itself of the invasive Norway rat during the 50s all the way to the present? The details I am providing here are vague, but at this point I just want to finish this blog post and go to bed and wake up to yet another productive day. =]

Everything's full - tout est rempli

So I'm with the fungal world and they're like - wait, Avery
Do all )))) go to heaven - MF Doom, master rhymer, burner of oil
Also a dude from NYC, maybe?
Not a cluue, ad ai do want not, not wantto start ay flame wars, or gang wars, but bloggers who make money blogging shud not be ignored but i dont make moeyy so d i ignore myw arning signs?

Anyway, happy 16th of November! Remember that number divided by four? Nintendo does.

Red lines under words annoy me, but so does rewriting everything constantly, so it's another dot com bust or boom.fm bust.

[REDACTED][REDIGE]

Ambitions as a writer

"I been hesitant to reappear, been away for years

Now I'm back my adversaries been reduced to tears"

Just about ready to rhyme; not ready to keep the time

My ambitions as a writer keep me away from fear

No free-styling; I'm straight ridin'; you don't wanna fk w/ me

'cause I'll keep writing till death coil comes flying

or I get a battle rez from volun-tears

 

 

Threadbare scrambled

Where have I been sapped? The creative mind is but a flow of words that endlessly get slapped onto the page. Yes, this is another round of free writing on my blog, and it's been years since I've done it and now that I finally read a Hemingway book (A Farewell to Arms) I feel slightly more comfortable in writing longer sentences.

If this doesn't make sense to you, then I will find a way to make it make sense. Make it make sense, it makes sense when you have bills to pay and you kill to play and you eat avant-garde cucumber pickles simply to make it all go away.

It takes me years to answer a simple question, a question of self-contentedness mixed with a trickle of unabashed shame. Questioning the reality of the questioning world, I wonder if I can ever find the old energy that made me write without a care in the world. Now, I find myself segmenting paragraphs into sentences into words into phonemes and wishing for the incessant allure of posh writing that I am certain will eventually be washed away like the grains of sand on Jupiter. Either that, or my writing will collapse under its own weight of boring rhetoric.

-

What was the point of writing this post? To write something down that maybe I'll stumble upon another time and wonder why I couldn't just write a damn book already. Can't writing be down collaboratively? I'm alarmed and sobered by the fact that 99.99% of my time spent writing, I have spent writing by myself.

One of the things that has kept this blog alive for me is the comments. With Google+ disappearing in April, I might try and revamp the comments to make it more interactive and less blocky. Unfortunately, I'm not great at layout/design work because I just want to write something down whenever I end up at my blog place and so I never end up focusing on the user experience too much.

If you're a visual learner like I tend to be, you might like this picture instead. It is something I cooked and it was just as tasty as it looks, which might mean different things to you than to me but anyway, it was nourishing.

Karma Aspiration Linger Entity Iodine Darwin Overcast Ulysses Grievous Hawt Spectre Citron Ophilia Philharmonic Eyeless.

If you want to join my Blizzard/battle.net party...

... here is a direct invite link that will expire in less than 24 hours.

Should you choose to join join: introduce yourself, and maybe have a punt at what the song of the day is!

Rushalité

Could have gotten the same rush
     from any lover's touch

I walked into a clubhouse, not far off a very beaten path. When I walked in, I mentally asked if I could eat a kiwi here, and no one replied, so I went to the kitchen and tried to find a knife (to slice the kiwi fruit in half) and after this had happened, I found myself at a circular desk slicing a lime in two, wondering what had happened to the kiwi.

Turns out I'm not bad at writing about stuff that happened... I love that I know so much about Cannabis.

The Power of the Internet

In a world filled with strife, I see robotics and the internet in a mostly positive light.

Technology has always been the human race's strongpoint; its anti-Achille's heel. Homo sapiens, homo erectus, homo habilis - you name it; the homos are simply good at creating, maintaining, and advancing technology. My favourites include writing, knives, fire, and robotics. Oh, and cooking too! All technological

Technology is dangerously close to nature, firstly because it has no choice but to be a part of nature, but more importantly because it is almost advancing ahead of us. Nature, however, is absolutely always advancing ahead simply because that's what Gaia thinks is a good idea.


To be continued..

Free writing mixed with some editing

So Google - Google Opinion Rewards to be more precise, is asking me a lot of questions today. It's probably a coincidence that I was sitting in the APUS' (Association of Part-time Undergraduate Students) office filling out paperwork when Google decided to prompt me with a benign demographic question: "What category of student are you?" - can you guess what I answered?

Tao Inspired

"Feel the lightness of being that results from forgiving others and accepting them as they are.
Free yourself of the endless vigil of policing the behavior of others.
See them for who they are, not what they can or can't do for you. "

From the Book of Changes - Hexagram 40.

Angel divine

Michel/le - She can protect me
Raphael/le - She can heal me
Me - I can protect Raphael/le y/or Michel/le

2019-09 update: Changed the names to make them genderless, tried my hand at spanish and elementary particles

Boil-ology (I'm making tea after losing my Mighty)

Homo sapiens, not homo socialis.

 Homo habilis, très habile

 

Lights is still around and kickin' :)

Updated draft on a Tuesday: J'aime siffler.

Neutrinality

One neutrino made it out; that's the last thing I remember, before... before the onslaught hugged him too tight such that he fell backwards into one of the many voids that afflicts this metropolis. Of the voids, there isn't much to say other than some zombies probably could live there for a while.

If I had to pick a moment in time where I might have made it out without relying on externalizations, that moment would be now. For, like a benzene molecule in perpetual motion, I have got - another girl. Another girl who will love me 'till the end. Through thick and thin, she will always be my friend.

Hi A.M.! I hope you like The Beatles! :D

Black Tuna-

Beautiful is a song by Scatterheart, yes, and I've actually met, talked, and even taken a few different yoga classes with the lead singer. He told me he might put on his wings again for my birthday; but this was so long ago that I would not hold them to it.

Majestic and poisonous

I started my day by picking a card; treading is what was given to me, so tread I tried to do.

Was I cautious? I certainly feel like I was, since I decided to bike home by renting a BikeShare bike and pedaled, pedaled I did on mostly watery roads illuminated by the harsh glow of endless cars. It was a fun ride home, in different words.

The highlight of my week is attending all my classes - I'm finally doing science again. I'm picking up almost where I left off, oh, say, almost 12 years ago now, which would have been the last time I was in IB and taking science. And indeed, this was a time when I was blogging furiously and emotionally, and I'm getting back into that.

I don't want to be sucked into a scientific hell where I see the world through the lens of pure numbers and molecules, so I decided to check out A Farewell to Arms from the St. Michael's Library. I've read it in French before, and I thought it was a terrific story. You really get to feel the emotions of the characters that Hemingway writes about, and the imagery almost rivals Tolkien's. I can't wait to read it in its original form!

-

I still feel lonely, even more so on campus. I don't look anyone in the eye anymore. I think it's too painful. My iron heart keeps beating, and my carbonated lungs process the toxicating smog that I regrettably inhale each day. For how much longer will the poison spread?