6am breeds stranger thoughts than other times of day

Fresh Cut

If I didn't love you, it wouldn't matter.
If you didn't love him, it probably would matter.

I know my place, I accept my fate
But I can't understand how
You can still look at me like that,
Branding me with your burning touch,
Lacerating my mind with your penetrating eyes,
Freezing my ears with your deep, cold voice.

Some would call me a masochist,
Visiting you again and again,
Letting you do as you wish to me.
But I do.
I can't help following you into the darkness
Because I always come out the other side better.

If I wasn't so close, I might see the signs.
If you weren't so far, you'd probably show me.
  • Current Mood
    Actually, very happy.

Tired of Silence or "There Is And Will Always Be More To Come..."

 If I'm not going to man up and post my writings like an attention starved high schooler, I might as well post about stuff I find interesting on the webbernets (borrowed word from Sontard. thank you).

Which brings me to my new segment: The Thing! (of the week)

I stumbled upon this beauty while reading news.yahoo.com. Apparently secret codes aren't just for hiding in bottles or on the backs of dollar bills anymore. Unfortunately, the thing the news story is about is not our Thing! (of the week). There's a tiny link at the bottom that will lead you to this beautiful sculpture named Kryptos.

Now this is the ultimate puzzle page! It's sudoku, crossword, and hellahard word jumble all in one. Essentially.

It's my new fascination. And this week's Thing! (of the week)

Sorry It's Choppy or Positively Uncertain

If anyone knows how it feels to get a strong prompting to do something you don't understand, I just joined your club recently. It feels like I'm flying through a fog with no radar except the divine feeling I will make it out the other side without crashing into a mountain. And I'm happy. And I don't understand it. But I'm still happy.

And I know what a lot of people will say. I know how little sense it makes. I made the decision and I still don't know "why". I just know "that". And I'm getting to the other things I can do in the interim. Like write. And play music. And see my kid. Knowing what little I do about my future right now, getting to see her is more important to me than ever before.

I don't think I've ever fought with God about a prompting before. I'm positive I've never had one not truly make any sense to me whatsoever. So I fought it for the better part of a week. There apparently is only a certain degree of contending the Lord will tolerate before presenting you with the ultimatum of "follow me or don't, but figure it out now."

So, my Cherubs and Cerberuses (what's the plural on that?), my lessons I'm learning are two:
"Sometimes the Lord calms the wind, but most often he calms the sailor."
"Peace is not an absence of violence. It is an absence of fear."

Until next time, check out my Youtube and make me so much cooler online.

Not for all audiences...

If you can get past the title of this one, just keep in mind: This is of the mind.

Psychological Dominatrix
The Mistress of my masterful plans
Has found my only weakness.
As she slowly chains my soul
To the walls inside my mind,
She silently decides behind shadowed eyes
I will be her lady tonight.
Her words lash me firmly,
While her eyes tell me
I am her's, but she doesn't stop.
No hesitation as those same words
Begin to penetrate my heart,
Slowly at first, tenderly caressing
Entrapping my senses before I can tell
She is toying with my soul
In ways I never knew possible.
Whispering softly under the torrent,
"I Love You."

My soul convulses against her chains,
Pulling desperately at my mind
For some kind of release, but to no avail.
She continues playing, smiling,
Somehow keeping me unsatisfied
And pleading for more while
While I am far beyond my strength.
The walls begin to crumble slowly,
Piece by piece as my soul wretches against them.
My heart bleeds from the beating
It so rightly deserved.
And she, that terrible temptress,
Knows when to pull back and remind me I am a man,
To release me from my shattered walls
And lay my soul to rest,
Continuing to whisper in my ear, she loves me.
The exhaustion drops me into a dreamless void,
Those words echoing as I fall, "I Love You."
I Love You too.

I don't harp the mature theme very often. If it's too much for you, please don't tear me up. If you have to critique, you know where to reach me privately.
If, of course, you want to lavish me with praise, you also know where that comment bar is.

Cheers, kiddos!
  • Current Music
    Hard Sun - Eddie Vedder

(no subject)

It took a fallen angel
To show me where my heaven lies
To tell me the lie I was living
And feel how my heart was dying

It took a fallen angel
To remind me of my higher call
To reorient my crooked course
And return me to my heart's desire

It took a fallen angel
To wrap me with her velvet words
To pour her fuel over my soul
And ignite it, burning me eternally

And now I am left here aflame, to burn away the excess
To clean my infection internally, and to learn to rise again
  • Current Music
    Hurt - Johnny Cash

A Short Update

I had intended to write a lot tonight. I am full of thoughts. I let them swirl around me tonight after I hot tubbed, laying on the deck after the tub got shut down. It was the perfect night for stars. And listening. It turns out that you hear a lot at 2am if you just open your ears.

But the punchline is supposed to be something about how wonderful it is to be in America. To not hear bombs. Or gunshots. Or cars crashing (a rarer rarity than not hearing gunshots). I'm not confident of how much peace is left. But I will continue to pray for more time.

More to come soon. Hopefully after I touch up the Sam Rayburn paper for Tuesday.

And a quick prayer for Praetor. She's disappeared from school. I hope for her safety too.

Conservatives Blog Too or The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Should I be offended that conservatives are demonized as racist-hate-baiters when we just want our laws to be plain and forthright? Probably, but getting propagandized bile thrown at me has been a regular part of life since becoming public and proud about my religion. So I like to think my skin's a little thicker than average.

Is it upsetting to me when people who claim to love America decide to say the words (to my face, in real conversation) "What's so wrong with Socialism? It works in [rattles off European Nations]..."? Oh man, this one gets me. First off, there's a reason people left European Socialism back in the 18 and 1900's. It wasn't because it works. It's because it breeds despotism. If you want to forfeit control over your life for the security blanket of Big Brother, Airstrip One is just across the pond, crumpets. Don't let the door hit you where your gracious Lord split you. We are America for a reason, and your treason to our Constitution will not stand.

Now, I have to agree that medicine as a business vs. keeping public well-being up is no contest. People need to have their health. But I've been to a Health and Human Services office for Medicare needs. I pulled in in my beaten-to-hell van to a shiny Cadillac with chrome rims, a rice-burner, an H2, and about a dozen cars that looked like mine. I realized when I got to the front of the line that I needed to retrieve something for them from my van. My annoyance was when those pretty vehicles had been driven away by the people that had been in line ahead of me, not by the government bureaucrats. I went back and asked "How were those people allowed medicare?" The simple answer?

"We are not allowed to look at that."

WHAT?! You can look at personal bank records and criminal history from 1977, but you can't take a g@$damn look out your front f@$#ing door? Some of us didn't have money to lease an enormous car. Or eat. Or pay rent. And we needed the help. And they pull up in a Hummer and ask for a handout so they can roll-them-22's phat stylin'?

Give me a break.

And we watch over 2000 pages of bill that <10% of the population or legislators have read get signed into law, and we're supposed to be as excited about this "big f*$#ing deal" as Biden? Has Joe read it? Has Barak? Have we truly used our collective faculties as a nation to know what's going on? Or are we just too excited about Miley being on Idol tonight and curious about the smoke monster on Lost? Have we already forfeited the decisions to the handlers, hoping it'll just be okay? Are we just too big of a nation to handle so many decisions?

I don't think we're too big. I don't believe in "too big". Not only as a 6'8" Texan, but as a tech geek, I can tell you we are not too big. We can have these laws broadcast wider than C-SPAN, have faster and more in depth debate than these ceremonial tirades by Alan Grayson and John Boehner, and we can decentralize the government so that The People (as described in the Constitution of the United States of America) can actually be heard.

My final thought: Does anyone else find irony that Firefox spell check wants to correct Boehner to Boneshaker, Bonehead, or Boner?

TchuB! (or Tchuss! Cheers! [for the non-German inclined])
  • Current Music
    Our Lady Peace

(no subject)

I just got really nostalgic for my favorite dead poet, George Carlin. So I give you "The Modern Man":

I'm a modern man, digital and smoke-free; a man for the millennium.

A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist; politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I've been uplinked and downloaded, I've been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.

I'm a high-tech low-life. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new-wave, but I'm old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.

I'm a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and bio-degradable.

I interface with my database; my database is in cyberspace; so I'm interactive, I'm hyperactive, and from time to time I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin' the wave, dodgin' the bullet, pushin' the envelope.

I'm on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.

I've got no need for coke and speed; I've got no urge to binge and purge.

I'm in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.

A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.

A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom-feeder.

I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.

I'm a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.

A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.

I've got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.

You can't shut me up; you can't dumb me down. 'Cause I'm tireless, and I'm wireless. I'm an alpha-male on beta-blockers.

I'm a non-believer, I'm an over-achiever; Laid-back and fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.

I'm super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.

A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case; prematurely post-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail.

But I'm feeling, I'm caring, I'm healing, I'm sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I'm gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.

I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the F-word in my e-mail. And the software on my hard drive is hard-core—no soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane. I'm toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically-formulated medical miracle.

I've been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped and vacuum-packed.

And . . . I have unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude, but I'm the real deal. Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow, I go with the flow; I ride with the tide, I've got glide in my stride.

Drivin' and movin', sailin' and spinnin'; jivin' and groovin', wailin' and winnin'.

I don't snooze, so I don't lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.

I'm hangin' in, there ain't no doubt; and I'm hangin' tough.

Over and out.

It took a funeral to make me feel alive. Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful.

I just realized how far reaching the friendships of my past go. The men I grew up with, whom I still consider my brothers, are in every corner of the world. They walk every frame of life. They are fathers. They are students. They are soldiers. They are computer gurus and security specialists. They are actors, musicians, painters, and more. All of these men started in the same place and they have all gone diverse ways. As shortly into life as we are we've already started in the path of all bands of bretheren, losing one here and another there.

I've experienced death of many people in my epicly short stint on the big tilt-a-whirl. Aside from my father, the deaths of these -- my bretheren -- have been the hardest to bear. They have been the most sudden, with the least amount of cosmic balance... if there is such a thing anymore. They are leading me to feel the sting of what so many have been fearing for a long time.

I never feared the future before. I knew everything would work out and that was that. Now I feel time moving, its rush and its waves crashing down on my life, pushing me forward against my will. When did this happen? I was walking on cold lenolium and avoiding crowds of what were supposed to be my peers and then, as if moments later, I am here, writing. I am confused and alone with nothing but my electronic pen and ink to tell me what is going on in my mind. The thoughts fight their way down my arm to my fingertips, flowing out in spurts like an old faucet being turned back on after the house's water was shut off for not paying the bill on time. Dirty at first, it shoots out as cold and rusty as the pipes have become. I'll try and leave the faucet on a little longer, just to let it flow out until they clean themselves out.
  • Current Mood
    Pensive, Strange, Wondering

How Long Has It Been? or Speed of Sound, Speed of Light

My whole existance seems to be going too fast for me to keep track of it. I want to be able to keep a handle on it, but it's all I can do to try to stay steady as the whirlwind spins around me. Life is happening around me, not to me or with me. I'm becoming something I don't recognize.

Here's a free write for you before I get too far into the weekend to think:

Speed of sound, speed of light
Look around, dead of night
Making ashes, burning bright
Lighting matches, turning white
Hot like love, cold as ice
Looking tough, broken eyes
Matching mirrors, bleeding heart
Fractured terrors, pouring out
Make me love you, make me cry
Let me miss you, let me lie
Teach me lessons, make me smart
Open sessions, making art

Dont know where that came from, where it's going, or where it went. But it's there now.