you guys'll love this

i was listening to Janis and pondering moths to flames and the bugs on your porch when i happened upon a possible explanation for why things are so fucking fucked up.
everyone knows bugs end up stuck on your lightbulb (or exploding into tiny moth meteors in the case of candles) because of something with their navigational system and the moon and whatnot. it's always explained so poorly you end up with people asking why they don't try to fly into space to bump their fuzzy little faces on the moon for eternity and other such shit. i've heard people asking these things, i'm not making it up.
anyway, i started thinking about what that's like from the bug's perspective. presumably, for such a major malfunction to so perpetually fuck them over, it must be pretty hardwired. i started thinking about people and their relationship with pain. i pictured a big fat moth sitting 6 inches from the porch light on the stucco for eight hours straight. i tried to imagine what the little guy would be experiencing.
involuntarily, i made a jump to karma, and the negative and positive energies that accumulate in spaces, and the possibility of a universal (un)consciousness which would make that moth's mind a little part of my mind on some level. i tried to estimate the ratio of bugs to humans.
do it yourself, it's fun. helps if you're really tired and/or drugged in some fashion.
do you think bugs are beaming bad vibes at us for leaving our lights on all night? have i just been awake too long? get back to me on this.

going to sleep for real this time.

i could never get the hang of thursdays

it's been a long day.
life is really a huge puzzle to me. most of the time it's too gray and draining to bear, and then it gets too beautiful to stand for a second, and the rest is filled in with sort of repititious boring stuff. i don't even know what to do with the good parts.
i'm going to sleep.

...and honored be the memory of Douglas Adams.

6:30am

i'd just like to say i hate everything right now.
thank you.

love and beauty, laugh and beats!

there's some weird property of spring semesters. burn out sets in a week or so before spring break, and then it's a high-speed razor edge till summer, trying to get everything done fast enough without losing any fingers or causing any lasting brain damage.
then it'll be summer, and this one's finally going to be good.

subjective psychology

something we need more of, as far as i can tell.
a very simplistic example: Kelly and i agreed that seratonin inhibition and seratonin dump feel very similar. so what's up with that?

anyway, on a lighter note, i have to say that knowing the club's DJ is the only way to drink.
thanks, Trace!

well i wish i was on some australian mountain range

i got no reason to be there
but i imagine it would be some kinda change.

-compliments of our friend bob

N/A

would causing people to stand around wondering what would happen if they switched on a ceramic breast with an on/off switch be a bold and progressive artistic accomplishment?
what if people felt silly afterwards?

i think making people feel silly is important for an artist. many people really should get more used to the experience, and i think it's good for all of us to feel a bit stupid now and again. particularly those among us who always are stupid without ever feeling stupid.
that's my mean streak.

i got a pencil stuck in my hair just now. maybe i should dread my hair over the summer.
if it'll dread...

and now, from my 'five million and three things to waste time thinking about in the shower,' a small excerpt:
...the origin of logic. an objective look would seem to indicate that the logicalness of a thought is due to the ease of neural connection required to have it. thus, the seemingly common preconception that logic results from the nature of the universe itself (ie. reality is logical, once we figure it out) is questionable, like the Discordians pointed out, come to think of it. of course, their assertion that the universe is fundamentally irrational, as appearances often indicate, is equally questionable, so i suppose chemical abuse and examination of the situation for oneself is the best option, or possibly a coin-flip...

okay, i'm bored.

Informational: drugs vs other stuff

this is a distiction which appears to elude the majority of the population, so i thought i'd clear this up. a fairly distinctive trait of drugs is that they're no fun to take. people put up with inhaling smoke that tastes like burnt plastic or drinking liquids that make you puke right before they kick in because they're doing drugs.
if it tastes good, it's just a better kind of food.

where have all the flowers gone?

i'll borrow amy and dave's digicam one of these days. then there will be pictures.
o the pictures there shall be!

the fan in my minifridge stopped spinning; now instead of just not getting very cold it gets really hot.
this makes me cry and stab.

its cloudy today, and supposed to rain. i'm tired of cold.
i live in texas, i shouldn't need to own a coat.

someday my brain will pop and you people will be all on your own.
them's the breaks.

didn't we just have SxSW?

or is time really speeding up that much?
i must be getting old.

i start fires!

why do i normally feel best at about 2:30am?

...still alive

i think. i've been up since 5 this morning. took a psych test, got in a wreck, read the first Hellboy tradeback, had a screwdriver. it's been a long day.

warning: brainspew

spent the night in the art building again. when i left at 6, Slimey still had an inch-wide hole in his tail, but some fucking nifty lumpy things on his back. too bad i can't work on him over spring break.
guess i'll have to have fun instead.

'i saw guns that shot swords in the hands of young children.'
-Dylan goes to a toy store

the lumps in my wrists change sizes.

either truth is overrated, or we haven't found any yet.

i'm listening to fogey music. fucking Dylan comes on whenever i've got a quiet gap.

i was fluent in english before i started smoking. i even used to have some social skills, before i stopped going downstairs. c'est la vie, eh? french canadian.

jack-in-the-crack will kill you.

gotta go shower.

Tip For The Day

Before you reproduce, listen to John Lennon's "Mother."

things you can't get at walmart

all kinds of shit:
vermiculite. a pressure cooker. a blue plastic tub with an air-tight lid. surgical gloves. a fucking spray bottle, even.
and they carded me for lighter fluid, of all things.

spring break

is the week after this one. now accepting suggestions for how i should spend it.

four months??

jesus shit, i've been doing this since december. time flies when you waste it.

in the dark ages, if you could read the bible, you were educated

since i have nothing to say, here's a shot of my current Flash work-in-progress.

Thingy.

Tip For The Day

The rain is lovely, but wet.