Good Again

A little unknown fact: the coined phrase “this too, shall pass” was stolen from a devoted believer in freeware, for better or worse.

I walked the park trails with Nick the Twin, going off course in search of huge concrete chunks resembling an earthquake disaster. We had a lot of fun in the past, climbing over the oddly shifted slabs, just hanging out and exploring. But yesterday we would simply continue to roam through high weeds with burs sticking into our clothes before realizing that the hills we surveyed from had to be where our special ruins used to be. Quite possibly having become an unwanted teen hangout, the blown up parking lot was removed.

We settled for grinders in the pavilion and shamelessly chucking rotten tree fallings into the river, startling filthy ducks. The countryside is rather beautiful, right now. Too bad the season is so short.

Later that day, I refused to spend cash and ended up somewhere questionable, having gathered information from a trail version of encoding software and sought out a crack. A malware infection bypassed every security feature and began pelting me with popups – it was prickers and burs, all over again.

Tradition will show that I routinely troubleshoot by myself to no success before surfing for outside ideas. Tech support lacks simplicity and I whine to myself, “Why can’t I get rid of this crap as quickly as it took to generate that serial code?” before spotting a string of words that help me google closer to a solution.

Newsflash – no one really knows how to decipher your hijack logs or running processes. The experts are merely suggesting educated shots in hell.

After a number of hours pass, patterns and file extensions begin to take clearer shape and I finally realize what the fuck is happening. Indeed there does exist a page dedicated to the problem, along with hassle-free remedies. My twelfth attack is a success and right before shutdown, I thank those who read my every instant message “GODDAMMIT THE URL CANNOT BE FOUND NOW?! YOU JUST FOUND IT A MINUTE AGO. DID YOU LOSE IT AGAIN?” and tolerated the multiple sign-ins during reboot.

“AIM has detected that you are signed in at two-”

Everything is right with the world by 5 A.M:

“Yayness! I can make my DVD, now.”


Ok, I can’t help it. This one’s fun.

My LiveJournal Trick-or-Treat Haul
great_dame goes trick-or-treating, dressed up as a wench.
camden_truth tricks you! You get a toothbrush.
crymson_st4r gives you 15 red-orange coconut-flavoured gummy worms.
detheasius gives you 4 light yellow pineapple-flavoured pieces of taffy.
jerseyshore tricks you! You get a clothespin.
jpete02 gives you 15 brown coffee-flavoured pieces of bubblegum.
jsin00 tricks you! You lose 1 pieces of candy!
jujube_1980 gives you 12 green mint-flavoured pieces of chewing gum.
nirvelli_lynn tricks you! You get a clothespin.
phospherous gives you 6 purple blueberry-flavoured jawbreakers.
shalifi gives you 18 teal cinnamon-flavoured jawbreakers.
great_dame ends up with 69 pieces of candy, a toothbrush, a clothespin, and a clothespin.
Go trick-or-treating! Username:
Another fun meme brought to you by rfreebern.



Lanterns 05

I thought about stealing pumpkins around 3 a.m. this morning and continued to entertain the idea until Dan came online at the perfect moment, only needing a little reassurance that we would probably get away with it. By 3:30, I was dressed and shoving clothes baskets into the back of his car.

“I haven’t felt this kind of rush in a while,” I said as we were watching for headlights and any suspicious noises. A star shot across the sky above us, and I wanted to believe that we were meant to pull this off.

We parked on a side road and snuck up to the property I’d spotted last week with a huge wagon full of pumpkins by the road. It is not easy, making your way back quietly with a heavy load of pumpkins. Dan wanted to call it quits before I convinced him to come back with me one more time for another armful, and by 4:15 we were oogling my share of the goods:

there would be a halloween this year

Then we hit a 24 hour diner for cappacino in hopes it would help me to maintain the surge of energy brought on by a successful mission, but I just fell asleep as soon as I finished it.

When I woke back up, I decided to take the next step and hollow them out. Now these guys are sitting on the back porch:

lanterns 05

It was an awfully good day.

Saturated in CD-Rs

Back when my resources were limited, radio play provided my choices. If I heard a song that I really liked I could record it to cassette with static and DJ overtones or purchase that artists’ album at the store for around $16.00. I’ve also taken gambles on music that friends and family listen to because there’s a certain hope for a sound getting approved by a loved one; it can be exciting to sort though that material, looking for what they hear. Although such methods have helped me to find several favorites, a small clique or mainstream airwave was still only providing me with so much back in junior high.

Sometimes I wonder, how much are you a fan of an artist if you only like 60-80 minutes of music from hundreds of songs they put out? I’ve just finished my own “The Only Bowie Cd You’ll Ever Need” and personal companion to Marilyn Manson’s greatest hits cd “The Other Mary Manson Mix” and then trashed sixteen albums of theirs for 3-4 solid compilations to my taste.

I can’t agree that piecing together your own music for free isn’t wrong, but it’s a bitch to have to invest at least $80 for the five cds I only want a few tracks from. $80 a cd of art that you put into the air… Damn. I guess if I don’t agree with what I have to do then I shouldn’t do it and should shut up about it – get over not having the songs I want. I do happen to have 200 originals stacked on a shelf that I approve of – I can go listen to them. Which brings me back to the beginning of this whole thing…

Even though the MP3 and cd burning journey to other genres and recording studios around the world has resulted in a dream fulfilled, sometimes I reflect on the early years and wonder…

Did I spend hours playing an entire album all the way through on repeat because I could enjoy an artists’ work more back then, or did it have to do with the determination to get my money’s worth as I developed thorough concepts of what little music I had? Was there genuine appreciation to be found after so many B side settlements? Was I happier when it was either Nirvana’s Nevermind or the Dumb and Dumber soundtrack?

Stone Head Art

To Bed On Time, or, 3 A.M. thoughts at 3 P.M.

I neglected to record a series of nightmares, thinking that such encouragement might invite more. Now it’s obvious they’ll play out whether or not I publicize the afterthoughts. For the past few months, I have had dreams from places where I didn’t realize thought existed.

An evil entity paces a dark town in lion’s form and tornadoes are common weather. In one attempt to escape the whirling funnels, I jump into a car and shout at a regrettably ex-friend to put her keys in the ignition and drive us to safety. But it’s like she doesn’t want to, the product of leftover memory fragments too jaded by my mistakes, and no matter where I run into her with my eyes closed… all she can ever react to is the misfortune I brought some ten years ago in junior high.

Townspeople’s faces contort like a demonic movie cliché. But whose townspeople don’t?

I’m at a mass graduation, cramped inside a gymnasium filled with a thousand students. In contrast to how I handled the experience in reality, I stay behind while everyone drains from the bleachers. Emphasis lies on the fact that this will be the last time I get to see the faces of everyone I was with for those years and I become immersed in the crowd, searching for the familiar so that I can tell them how I’m feeling about this goodbye. But for the most part I’m standing alone, looking at the strangers pouring out around me. And I feel disappointed.

When I’m awake, I’d rather never remember those times, ever again. At one point I had come to the laptop to make little rhymes I could easily recall this morning:

Classic female damage three
Amber, Julie, Ashley
That’s if you fail to mention
All the minors in between.

To say I’m sorry in a dream
Or drown inside a chair
What good is it to smooth things out
If no one’s really there

I think I even begged for my millennium back, last night. I wanted the time I had wasted on something foolish and destructive – I wanted to change my answers, my actions, all of it. I was at the fork, begging the keeper of time to let me pass down that other path. I wanted it more than anything.

We’re talking lowest of the low kind of regrets, here. That is not the kind of shit I allow myself to dwell on during the day. But I am realizing now, while a redo isn’t exactly the answer, that a very serious alteration, is. Not that I wasn’t always aware, but I wasn’t waking up every day for months on end completely mind fucked, either.

It requires more than a strong pot of coffee to shake off having just escaped an old lady who turned into a rotting corpse and showed you satan’s castle, giddy over what her spiteful lord had in store for you and the rest of mankind.




Previous to Hawaiian stuffed crust pizza and three hours in a jacuzzi under the starry sky, Brad snuck into my room and hung up the gift he made for me:

that's love
A Dreamcatcher