personally, i like the motif.
for those who drug in the dance scene, the "wave" is often understood as that life-changing transformation into ecstasy. for me it's simply the endorphin high i get from allowing tone to affect me. to you, it might be something else... or, nothing at all.
but, no matter what it is, i think we can all agree that it is cliche.
and that was just a really strange way of introducing this wavy song as better than cliche... i think.
in the last month or so i've discovered how acutely aware of my surroundings i can be. i've taken notice of all those things -- mental and physical pains, discomforts, nuisances -- that used to keep me awake at night, and i came to the conclusion that if there's anything i don't want to be it is WEAK.
it's not that i'm going all rogue alpha male arrrrggghh he me roar or anything like that, but, for me, i am much happier knowing i can eschew wimpiness at will. and let's face it, wimpiness runs rampant in western society these days.
mental toughness. being mentally tough makes it easier to be physically tough. and vice versa.
as the temperature drops here in the Chi (and believe me, it's been droppin like a motherfucker, especially in the morning before sunrise) i've been experimenting with the elements, running in to the strong winds, braving the frigid air, forcing myself to buck the fuck up. sure, i have some winter gear to help me out, but there's something carnally satisfying about telling old man winter to go fuck himself, to fight through the discomfort and ultimately kick his ass. unfortunately for him, it has only just begun. i don't like running on treadmills.
so fuck you, winter. fuck you, pain. fuck you, weakness.
all across the fucking board.
me me me me me me me me mine mine mine mine mine mine me me me me me me.
it gets old.
why can't we just be comfortable knowing we can't explain it all, while still progressing, putting the world and its mysteries together bit by bit as all the facts are gathered?
there's nothing wrong with that. nothing wrong with that at all.
but i'm pretty sure that i like having someone around i can make love to more than i don't like having someone around i can make love to. i don't like the uncertainty of having to go out on the hunt all the fucking time. i want to wake up to a woman who fires me up everyday, makes me stronger. does that make sense?
it does to me. but the problem is: it has all these provisions and nit-picky bylaws too. which is exactly what keeps me from finding the type of woman who will stick with me.
so, in essence, my own fucking desires cancel each other out.
and i end up watching replays of classic MLB games on a fucking friday night.
i'm one of those who can play, but can't really play.
i mean, i know my basic chords and can fumble around that, but i can't really read the music and translate that to my fingers.
luckily, cold play's songs -- which i'm not ashamed to admit i like, very much -- are basically just different sequencings of the same 5-6 chords.
so if i sit down to play something, it's gonna be that.
which i realize:
is quite fucking annoying.
so, yeah. not that much.
not at all.
show me the proof. show me the fucking proof that when we die our souls live on, and some just can't stop hanging out in our terrestrial world. show me some real, fucking, scientific proof that this is how it works and i'll take into consideration the possibility that ghosts are real.
just as i would for religion, or any other far-fetched self-centered delusion.
the main caveat here, of course, is that no one can fucking prove anything of the sort.
yet the human mind is so stubborn that it simply won't let go of its asinine desire to create realities that aren't realities. thousands and thousands of years haven't been enough to dispel this nasty habit.
i just hope we -- as a species -- survive long enough for it to die out... so that one day (presumably far, far off into the future) logic will prevail above all else.
shit... one can still dream.
it's a mental challenge. a physical challenge. it's a fucking challenge. period.
and no sky daddies can help me.
in fact, lots of the runners were advertising their faith in jesus by wearing bible verses on their shirts, praying out loud during the run, and looking to the sky as if big papa would come down and help them through the aches and pains.
which begs the question:
WHY would you train so hard, strain your body, push yourself and then give credit to some invisible sky daddy!?!?!?!?
no. jesus didn't do shit. I DID ALL THE FUCKING WORK. I trained rigoursly. I pushed MY legs through the pain.
take some pride in your work, people. it's a very satisfying feeling.
this is something i learned i could do through my attempts to understand meditation many years back. i never understood or 'got' the meditation shit, but i learned how to freak the fuck out of myself by going into these deep, dark mental trances.
being alone, completely and absolutely alone, physically, mentally, whatevs... it can be the most terrifying experience. believe me.
i understand why people want to believe in an invisible sky daddy who's there to carry them, to nurture them.
but life ain't that fucking easy.
one's gotta learn how to stand up, face and fight one's fears.
it's the only way.
i assure you, this is not hyperbole.
polite (very, very polite), well spoken (for the most part), manicured (this aspect jumps out at me)... it just seems that, compared to the sorts i tend to meet in the Chi, there is something more magical and sweet and nurturing about the texas female.
of course, this is all based around my own, unique experiences. nothing scientific here. just my own opinion (which tends to always be right ;-)
i've been coming down here a few times a year for several years now, and i'm always impressed. always. i can walk right into a two-steppin' bar, march up to the most beautiful woman in the whole joint, and say: "hello, maam. would you like to dance?"
i haven't been turned down yet. (NOTE: if she's with a man, i don't bother; that would just be dumb)
the bigger, more debatable issue (and one i've been schooled on many, many times) is which ones to go for: A&M grads or UT grads.... you be the judge:
he is a testament to my theory that phrasing is everything in lyrical music.
mozart wrote it. puccini wrote it. coltrane wrote it. peter fucking gabriel wrote it.
and now adam young is writing it.
having armin van buuren back it up makes it even more badass.
phrasing. phrasing is everything.
it's fucking magic.
they not only believe in it, they'll fucking kill ya for it.
but i also like goin' 'cuz two of my sisters live there. two of the younger ones (i have six).
when i'm around these two, i feel super young. and i'm always smiling.
spending time with them is like hitting the reset button on my brain. i always leave feeling refreshed, positive, and ready to take on the fucking world.
and that is fucking awesome.
"yeah," i said, "i ran from mom's out to trucker's and back."
"from mom's to trucker's and back? that's... that's like 12 miles." she said.
"yeah. that's right."
"why in the world would you want to run 12 miles?"
to which i immediately replied:
"why in the world WOULDN'T you want to run 12 miles? it feels fucking fantastic!!!!!!!!"
it's freezing out. but dad (newly divorced) went out in the cold, as the slave victim of me (the blood thirsty vampire), with nothing but a loin cloth and a leash.
at least, that's how i remember it.
it was just us. and everyone loved our costumes.
i was really happy that night.
i believed it 'cuz it sounds good... 'cuz it's romantic... 'cuz it's sensationalized.
but just like i did with religion one day, all i had to do was stop myself and ask: WHY DO YOU BELIEVE WHAT YOU BELIEVE?
then, boom. felt like an idiot. felt stupid for injecting meaning where there needn't be any.
in this world, with billions of people spread across oceans and mountains and deserts... it makes absolutely no sense to think there's only ONE FUCKING PERSON out there who is "perfect" for me. just doesn't make sense. it's illogical. stupid. asinine.
my mind tries to kid itself, because my mind likes to put pieces together and my mind likes to feel like it's in control. it thinks it knows exactly what the fuck is going on, at all times, always. but when i step back and put my hand on my mind's mouth, to get it to shut the fuck up, reason takes over and it is very clear that my mind is the one at fault. it is very clear that, given time, it will heal itself into thinking logically again.
doesn't mean you're not gonna hurt and it doesn't mean you're not gonna feel like you got your fucking teeth kicked out.
but it does mean ya might wanna relax. chill out. there'll be more, tiger. there'll be more.
all of 'em...
...and the bazillion photoshopped memes that have come to entertain my short attention span.
whether it's with-you-every-day-jesus or sad keanu or fuck yeah air conditioners, i'm always down for some hot meme-on-meme action.
but this one might be the hottest one i've seen yet (click to enlarge):
they seriously fucking believe that shit.
they run our cities. they run our businesses. they run our governments and our countries and our schools and our pastimes...
and they are fucking crazy mutherfuckers.
why aren't we fighting a war against that?
solo appealed to me because of his no-nonsense-let's-get-past-the-bullshit-and-lemee-get-the-girl attitude.
who doesn't wanna be a strapping rogue who defies all the odds?
i guess when it comes to ideal self-image, little has changed since my youth.
it's amazing what a blaster and a shitload of confidence can do for a man.
how is it that religious folks -- who by nature are self-absorbed and simple-minded -- get to make all the important decisions again?
this needs to stop.
we cannot afford another thousand years of archaic philosophy.
she's been dead for six years now; and not one fucking day goes by where i don't think about her. not one.
she was my biggest fan. my strongest supporter. my best friend.
and when she died, i was so hurt -- so damaged by the loss -- that i went into a self-destructive tailspin that stole away two and half fucking years of my life.
two and a half fucking entire years.
forgiving myself took almost as long.
i used to sit there, wasting away...
no one ever taught me about loss. no one prepared me for it.
for people who aren't ready, that shit can do some real damage real quick.
i can see how people find comfort in jesus and buddha and the whole gang. if you think your dead grandma is at a party in the sky with muhammad and jeebus, i can see how handling the death might be easier.
but i -- we -- know better. we know that all we can prove is that when you die, you're fucking dead -- erased from this existence. forever. for good.
once something you hold close is lost, that something is fucking gone.
and you better handle your shit.
and maybe that's all that matters.
her voice -- warm, honest, tender, nurturing -- is all i really want in a woman. a little rough, a little rasp, every now and then, is okay too.
lately, i've been letting music affect me more than usual. guess i'm vulnerable. and the music, it acts as a sort of medicine.
in this case, it's helping, 'cuz i totally dig what samantha is sayin' here about having fallen miles from yesterday, breaking waves of change.
when you're on the fucking bottom, there's nowhere else to go but up.
so here's to gettin' the fuck up!!!
whatever this is, it's something i wish i could see more of.
yeah, i know it's a bit odd, but the japanese have this unique ability to mesmerize me with insanity.
professionally, i deal with the japanese often, and there have been several occasions where i daydream of nutball song and dance whilst being talked to.
it's sorta like tripping.
and then one day you wake up...
...and it's totally fucking you.
i think part of being a healthy, intelligent being is recognizing that this can happen at any time. enjoy what you have, but never lose the sense that it can all be gone.
and rather quickly.
it's not quite saying you shouldn't ever let your guard down, because if you don't open yourself up, you'll certainly miss out on some of life's more extreme pleasures.
but just never lose sense of the idea that you don't know shit about shit. be ready to react.
on the fly.
and let me tell ya:
that ain't easy.
it's no secret that i can get turned on by tunes... and whenever i hear a simply elegant syncopated melody jaunt over the top of charging drum and bass lines, well, it's hard to hold back my mental boner.
i was running the other day when this track came on. i almost had to pull over, i was so... in the mood.
in fact, it's been awful. just... plain... awful.
such awfulness led me to run, and run, and run...
until -- lost -- i eventually found myself face to face with my mother. and a bottle of wine.
after 31+ years, my mother and i -- two polar opposite people with polar opposite worldviews -- finally sat down and had a drink together.
it had never been done before.
and in that conversation she showed me that awfulness often breeds breakthroughs.
she was right.
because i realized, despite the awfulness, that i can feel again.
that i know what i want my life to be. i know what i'm capable of: that i can love, that i have support.
and that's fucking cool.
... for mc hammer. who knew?
wasn't mc hammer a big-time christian? shoving bibles in people's faces and stuff before he blew his millions on bad boxing bets?
oh yeah. he was/is. good job, mc hammer. good job.
funny how it's always cool to hurt others and fuck up the world as long as you eventually ask jesus to forgive you for your shortcomings. it's an easy way to worm out of having any sort of real responsibility.
christians maximize the opportunities of this poor worldview.
to a fucking "t".
living in US america, sometimes i forget that i'm really in the majority of people in the world who like trance.
seeing armin work his craft is refreshing.
he describes the hissing sound of air passing through the newly created passage... and the look of hopelessness etched in the victim's unbelieving eyes.
so seein' yoda like this -- a sort of mentor from my youth -- it makes me sad
*i mean, some people would call it disturbing, and i recognize that fact. personally, i happen to like ellis' writing style and his ability to go places most people aren't comfortable going, which is why i continue to read his works, over and over again.
when you run, your mind has no option but to fight. it must fight just as hard as the body, if not more.
when your legs can't go another mile but you manage five more...
when your feet are soaked to the bone, gnawed to the nubs, raw and worn beyond repair...
when your thoughts all but tell you you're done, that you absolutely can't take it anymore...
and you FIGHT.
until that shit goes away.
and it will. eventually. a little bit more, every day.
you build it. you build mental toughness. you build it and it gets stronger and you keep building on that.
i've made a lot of mistakes in my life. i've paid a lot of prices.
and i've had to fucking fight.
why would i have to do that?
what infuriates me about religious folks -- more than anything else -- is their sheer laziness when it comes to ASKING QUESTIONS... and THINKING FOR THEMSELVES.
in short, they don't.
and their worldviews suffer for it. because they're absolute bullshit.
anyone with a working brain should be able to see that.
the one sound bit of advice i ever got from a christian.
'cuz it's universal, regardless of faith, or lack thereof.
...if only being broken didn't hurt like a motherfucker...
that "shit" often translates to pain. and everyone feels pain -- physical, mental, psychological.
what could be more convincing that the probability of a sky daddy pulling strings from above is a bogus notion?
an omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent "god" chucking out pain sans a thought, paints the picture of a pretty shitty god.
i know, i know. throw the story of job in my face. it was god teaching a lesson of obedience to job.
yeah. well, job was a fucking idiot.
you just gonna sit there and let god take a shit on you, to impress SATAN of all fucking fantasy-creatures?!? come on. not only would this make us slaves, but it'd make us slaves to something that can't even be seen, heard, touched!
yet, that's their reply -- that putting people through PAIN is a test, a test handed out by god.
to be exact, the bible-thumpers say:
"job did not understand why god had allowed the things he did, but he knew god was good and therefore continued to trust in him. ultimately, that should be our reaction as well." (link)
thanks. thanks for TELLING me how my reaction should be. thanks for trying to be the boss of me.
uh... fuck... no. our reaction should be:
and STOP talking to invisible sky daddies. they're... not... real...
no one living thing deserves to feel pain. no one. yet we all do.
say what you want about pain, but there is no way a "god" -- a loving, forgiving god -- sees something that is good, and after seeing something that is good and taking pride in it, all of the sudden slips gears and says "fuck it, lemee just fuck up some major shit right here!"
that just wouldn't happen.
and now they're everywhere and sorta seen as the mcdonald's of the coffee world -- the big, bad, corporate enemy of a room that used to be full of little guys. that may be true. but that coffee gets me JUICED LIKE A MUTHAFUCKA!!!!!!!!!!!
SO LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MY COFFEE AND JUST...
(image via 9GAG)
that is some real, scary, shit.
so of course it's going to scare the fucking bejesus outta children.
i'm sure its psychological effects on children run deep.
and we wonder why they're so tough to beat.
what does it mean to be blessed anyway? some egomaniac with fake credentials revered by idiots that somehow link him to the invisible sky daddy forces above lays a hand (which is probably just an ordinary hand -- like yours or mine) on someone (or, in this case, something), closes his eyes, then says a bunch of hocus pocus magic shit that makes everything better?
and now being blessed isn't reserved for your new house or grandma's brain cancer! now fido and spot can be blessed too!
oh, but your gay uncle charlie? not so fast. you know, silly, just as well as i do, that jesus-god hates fags.
(thanks to C for the tip)
'cuz let's face it: if you really believe sky daddies come and go and walk on water and come back from the dead and shit, then you are absolutely dumb as shit.
take it away, bill!
Bill Maher on Religion (From his new HBO Special 2-13-10)
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