Tuesday, March 25, 2008

the fear switch



i have a tiny fear so small it itches in my head.

i think it only sometimes when i'm safely in my bed.

what if the thing that keeps me living may someday leave me for dead?

it must be clearly marked, a switch, a tiny switch so small the itch.

or knobs that need to be adjusted just to breathe. what if mine's busted?

the doctor says YOU'RE JUST DEPRESSED and ARE YOU SUICIDAL?

i answer no i've never been could that be coincidal?

a fail-safe switch for when i'm dark so i can live tomorrow.

i have a tiny switch so small it itches in my head.

a safety-switch that makes me smile at night when i'm in bed.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Stinky Says Good-Bye before I move to Texas.

Goodbye Fat-Daddy, I love you - Stinkerbell.



She's very creative. I love her a whole lot and I'll miss her contributions to my blog. Actually, I'll miss my old crowded apartment and the slow elevators, the nutty management, the nervous Maintenance Guy and the whole, crazy cast of Rose Manor Apartments. I love my home.

Timothy

Thursday, March 06, 2008

... But Enough About Me. What Do You Think About Me?

WARNING: This posting contains WORDS TO READ and GRATUITOUS SEMI-NUDITY.


Wednesday, March 05, 2008

High And Mighty Inc.

If you play the music I sound a little less crazy... very little, actually.

BERSERKER by GARY NUMAN

Sometimes I shake my head and shout,"I CANNOT think this! It's Just TOO WRONG!"

Forget Political Correctness, I have long-ago graduated to Unquestioned Moral Repugnance as I contemplate writing phrases like "little cripple-girl" or "soul-less automaton" nay "empty, depersonalized pleasure-seeking monster-sluts" as I would attempt to describe my fellow man, however crippled by my opinion of the un-redeemable state of their existence.

I struggle to balance my cynicism against the lingering flicker of hope I have for us and yet I am bombarded by the grotesque prostitution of self to the unthinkable and historically unspeakable that sits at the center of so many offerings on the World Wide Web. Our nastiness - we, myself included I - categorized, paraded and book-marked/saved to our Favorites.

That which we so-long held hidden and darkened within us screams now from the billions of pages on the Internet.

We should be so proud. The negative and sometimes repulsive underpinnings of our high and mighty selves displayed in word and picture for all to see. Our Anonymity assured by the depersonalization of empty Cyber-Space.

Viva Man! The spin of our disintegrating claim to dominion over the earth increasing in speed - the shreds of our Humanity flying off akimbo into the void.

... though Grown-Ups fight over Him with Fright, the Children All Love Him So...



"CASPER The Friendly Dead-Anguished-Spirit-Of-Say-A-Five-Year-Old-Maybe?"

Man, that's hard to rhyme. Must be why they stuck with "ghost." I know I over think things, but Casper would have had to have been a dead child in order for his ghost to be stuck wandering the Earth in search of friends instead of walking into the "light" or whatever and moving on. Makes the whole cartoon series kinda ghoulish in hindsight.

The image above is from an early rendering of every child's favorite dead playmate before Hollywood got ahold of him and he was forced to diet.