The Governed

A leader's just a follower
Who hasn't lost all self-control,
And chooses not to take the path
That's traveled by the mindless hordes;
The governed choose to shut their eyes
And walk without their sticks,
And they trade in their humanity
For the most-appealing lies and tricks;
They choose not to spend the time
To learn to keep their lives in line,
And since they can't control themselves,
They sell the job to someone else;

The world's not bi-chromatic,
But black and white don't lie;
Self-awareness is the range of life -
Are you the baker, or the pie?
Either governed or a governor -
You're the pilot or the plane...
You can choose to follow someone else -

Or you can lead yourself.

While sheep can have the luxury
Of guidance by the shepherd's staff,
The strength of will of only one of three
Survives the shepherd's wrath:

The wolf—who likes to live alone
For lack of tasteful company—
Has less in common with the likes of you
Than you might have with me.

Are You Familiar With the Teaches of...

And what is so wonderful about Peaches, you may ask? One word, minions:

"Irreverence!" -- something I value very vehemently.

As disturbing as it should be but isn't, some of you are also really going to like this kind of stuff - even if it is for completely the wrong reason. So I promise that I will post more sexy song samples so to satiate said sick sadistic sex slaves' strange appetites, (and "all about alliteration" arriving anon!).

Now, take a hammer and break a bone for me!

PS Don't try to fuck your pain away. It only spreads it.

Monkeyshock

It must be a full moon!
Perched upon the castle wall—
Eating paint chips and dancing,
Half wishing I'll fall—
Singing words with no meaning
To the un-hearing evening,
And miming ambient bleating...
Horned sheep in your pasture, feeding;
Fueling glowing red lies, fleeing
Anything that feels like home or truth,
And cleaning with bloody bleach the taint
Of your reality. Disappointing. Feign -
Avoiding decision, indulging derisive visions,
Perpetuating emptiness,
Necessitating holiness to explain away your life.
Tonight's no special night,
So I take another bite, here -
Have another chip.
You know, I never could eat just one... goddamn you!

Ravings of a Depraved Deity... and His Guitar

I stand alone atop the battlement
Of self-discovery,
The only garrison against the drones
Sent to destroy me;
With axe in hand, with armor donned,
I drive the beat which drives me on,
And nobody can stand against my will,
Nor kill my song!

Communion ala Little Caesar!

Satan loves me,
This I know...
For he shook my hand
And told me so...
He looked into my eyes and said,
"Bad news. You lose, man: god is DEAD."

But I just cracked a wicked grin,
And gave poor Satan's head a spin...
I said that I'd known all along;
I'd been there at the end, in trust,
When good ol' Jesus bit the dust -
And I baked his flesh into this scrumptious,
Pan-style,
(Oh my lord, Kyle!)
"Jeez-stuffed" PIZZA CRUST!

Random Stuff I Think About

I'm thankful for the sacrifices of the fruits I eat. What a beautiful relationship. I want to be somebody's "fruit."

I wonder if anybody will ever "get" me.

Why does some music make my heart beat faster without my permission?

What's the secret ingredient in Henry's Orange Cream Soda?

I wonder when it will become possible to modify your vocal chords. I wouldn't mind being able to break into a perfect Sean Connery one moment, then belt out some pitch-perfect Sarah McLachlan the next, just because I could. But the ethical dilemmas...

Speaking of Sarah McLachlan, what do you think she had in mind when she wrote "Building a Mystery?"

I love that song.

So many people have magnesium deficiencies that affect their ability to cogitate, and don't even know that they need magnesium. Eat more leafy greens, people! For my sake...

What would life be like without Switters?

... I don't want to think about it. What would Switters do? Ah, ha! Think about my boss' daughter. Oh, sweet taboo...

Someday, I'd take great pleasure in converting the Bush family into bio diesel.

Who thought of the name for the "Snapple" brand?

What a catchy name.

And what an utterly pedestrian play on words.

What a fuckin' shame.

People always ask if I'm tired,

But never what I'm tired of.

Skeleton women who believe that their gym-made hyper-skinniness excuses their blatant arrogance annoy—and scare—me. Weighing less than my guitar doesn't earn you any special treatment. If I can see your bones, it's not going to turn me on - it's going to make me tell you to eat more and use your vibrator 16 hours a day less than you do. What broader change is reflected in the fact that so many men in our society have begun to base their fundamental attraction to women on artificial and/or masculine traits? I can't be the only one who still appreciates the way a woman's body develops naturally, can I?

Latin is the coolest language in the world.

Right now.

Riddick once killed a guy with a soup cup... so what?

I could kill you with a bottle cap.

... or my mind.

Interpretive Audio Journal: "A Sad Truth"

From: "My Device" - Ayria

Explanation: I've always had a passionate affair with music. It is capable of bringing to the forefront of the mind such powerful symbolic associations that I feel it is a language of its own, and that this language is in fact independent of the verbal linguistic components (lyrics) of its origin. I've tried to isolate specific instances of this kind of "musical communication," and I'll be posting more of them, along with a short phrase or title chosen specifically to represent the sensation or imagery the musical excerpt evokes in my mind. It should be an interesting experiment! Every Interpretive Audio Journal will be accompanied by a link, as is this one.

The Slow Day

All is quiet on the store front. If I were a cheesmo novelist, this is where the narrator would write, "Yes... perhaps too quiet..."

A fly hovers dangerously close to my ear, begging to be killed; I happily oblige, despite the pang of guilt I know will follow. "Too quiet" never lasts long enough, anyway - and when it does, it's overrated. Fans blowing in every direction keep the hot air circulating almost as quickly as my thoughts race. I wonder what it would look like if I stuck my boss' finger in those fan blades...

*CLICK*

I snap back to the sweltering reality as a young girl in a hooded sweatshirt pulls a gun from her pocket and demands all the money in my till. She's cute; pink studs in her nose as well as one of her lips, above which her eyes betray the faintest hint of a smile masked by world-weary sneer. But there's a subdued twinkle about those blue orbs which speaks of a mind left too long to wander alone in the absence of creative stimuli... and maybe of an unhealthy amount of experience under the covers (or maybe on the dining room table); it's unconscious, sure - but this is definitely the kind of girl who mentally undresses a person before she shakes his hand for the first time.Why am I noticing this now? Idiot.

In a brief moment of fantasy, I imagine that I could be unsure whether she's going to shoot me or leap over the counter and tear my clothes to shreds in equally violent fashion. But being me, I'd be more likely shot than sexed up as a general rule... and money is the most effective sex symbol in any event. Just my damned luck.

So I open the cash drawer, look her in the eye and tell her, "I guess you need this more than I do." She only blinks once before extending her other hand. I drop a pile of bills into those pretty clutches, suppressing my instinct to count them out to her like I would with any old customer. After all, this girl is special. Nice... black nail polish. Goes great with the pink - good look for her.

"You want the coin, too?" I asked, "or a piece of gum?" I nod towards the pack of Juicyfruit half-hiding behind my chai tea; she reaches over the counter and grabs the whole pack without missing a beat. "It's cool, I didn't want any - haven't been in the mood today," I offered. She shot me a bored, dirty look. It was the kind of look that said, 'I'm ansy enough to do just about anything right now... anything,' and it was so cute I would've laughed if the barrel of that Desert Eagle of hers hadn't still been lingering in my general direction. Where the hell did she get such a nice gun? Maybe she'll come back and rob me again sometime, and I can ask her.

Ignoring my question about the coin, she pops a stick of gum into her mouth, pausing before chewing for just long enough to absentmindedly nibble on her lower lip. Perfect form. She didn't even realize she did it. That'll be a hard image to forget.

"Take it easy..." I call to her as she saunters nonchalantly out the door, oozing that effortless and natural grace unique to women who never developed the flaw of taking themselves too seriously. She hangs a sharp left and starts running as she passes the alley adjacent to the store, and I can't help but regret not being able to watch her. Those hips...

*SNAP!*

Shit. It takes me a few seconds to realize what just happened. Shit, shit, shit! It's a little bit funny, in a morbid way; you'd expect even a small, compact explosion to make more of a "BOOM" and less of a timid popping noise, but I got used to that strangeness a long time ago. Not wanting to look outside for fear I'll be tempted to pick up one of her piercings as a souvenier—assuming her head ended up mostly intact—I curse myself for once again forgetting to switch my chewing gum back out with the explosive stuff I use so much of. Op-tech is not gonna be happy that I blew a whole pack on accident. Fuuuuck!

(Somewhere in lower Manhattan, Kopir the heroin dealer won't receive the surprise I'd hoped he wouldn't be expecting. At least his kid made off with a free pack of gum.) I spent 3 hours hiding in the bushes—and rolled in cat shit at least twice—to get into his place. God damn it! Lot of good those cameras are going to do now. Maybe they'll catch a round of the ol' boy's partying with the colorful local women he enjoys so much. Some IT nerd in an unmarked van is gonna have a good night.

As I dial the police, I wonder how the hell I got through 3 hours of work without wanting a piece of gum; what're the odds of that kind of good fortune? As if my life wasn't dangerous enough already... I think I need a new oral fixation. With that thought in mind, I begin telling the operator about the girl who'd just robbed me and then, quite suddenly—quite strangely—exploded. Or at least that's what it seemed like to me. I mean, I'm just the clerk, right?

Yeah, I definitely need a new focus for my oral fixation.

Sage advice. With just a pinch of rosemary...

Having a widely-wandering range of personal/interpersonal desires is almost always a symptom of not knowing yourself well enough to realize what makes you "fulfilled" versus simply "distracted."

Everybody has good qualities, and bad habits; the truth is that a very small proportion of people ever find meaning in their lives beyond simply getting to the next day. Unfortunately, it's true by default that you absorb aspects of your environment - and surrounding yourself with mediocrity, (read: a constant stream of distractions in the form of otherwise unremarkable people and activities), pretty much guarantees you will stay where you are for as long as possible. When you've really figured yourself out from an objective point of view and can see what it is you need in your life to achieve the meaning you need, you'll notice yourself becoming less and less attracted to so many people and "things" on a whim.

The more valuable, more rare, more remarkable aspects of peoples' personalities will take over your interests, as they reflect a similar degree of personal growth as what you (will have) attained. The more complicated beauties in life will become more understandable, and more valuable thus. When you lack the broad perspective to pursue what will ultimately bring your life greater meaning, you end up going after the next best "fix," which—at best—stunts your personal growth. This is one of the primary reasons people tend not to be able to hold their own in meaningful relationships, or fail to understand the value of having one. (Interestingly, couples just can't have truly "perfect" sex until both partners understand this implicitly).

When you're at such a stagnant point in your life—and it's worth noting that MANY people never advance beyond it—it would help you greatly to make every possible effort to explicitly *challenge* yourself. The key to discovering self-meaning is to master yourself, and to do so you first have to truly know yourself. To truly know yourself, you need to find out what your potential is; in the grand scheme of things, it's an understanding of your ability to make a contribution to a significant aspect of life that will illuminate your "meaning" within it.

Often a lack of ability (or simply motivation) to change one's circumstances—and realize more significant personal growth—is the result of self-doubt and self-ignorance.

Ultimately, we're all much more capable and have far greater potential than our environments and our similarly-dysfunctional neighbors encourage us to expect, or sometimes even to accept. The more you challenge yourself to grow beyond what you currently are, the more you will find you can achieve anything you set your mind to - and subsequently, that will provoke your focus and sense of priority in life to not only evolve in limitless direction, but eventually to do so along one such more narrow and meaningful vector. Keep on keeping on, and look for obstacles to throw yourself against along the way; every one you overcome brings you one step closer to personal truth.

Whenever life throws you a lemon, swallow the god-damned thing whole. You need the calories for the next step:

savagely slamming your head into the face of whichever idiot was throwing lemons!

Bleak

Polluted by the influx
Of mind-destroying drugs,
Plagued by wars in which our children
Masquerade like angry bugs,
The world is decaying -
Its fabric torn by time and dust
Stirred up before the death machines
Whose spinning wheels never rust.

Drenched in the stench of ignorance,
It's a wonder if we last the week;
Ripped to shreds by mankind's molars
The future's not much more than bleak -
So,
Why walk the road of selfishness—
Paved by bloody evil deeds—
When every print we leave behind
Is just one more hole in which to plant the seeds
Of emptiness?
The brainchildren of death?
Just one more void to swallow up the meaning
Of each breath?
So sleeps the final question,
Posed by those who choose to think:
Do you suppose the end of us
Will justify our means?

So long as worst today
Becomes the standard of tomorrow,
This rancid, pestilential fog
Will always find a way to follow;
I'm still unsure of what's unclear
But just in case you missed it all:
There's very little hope or none
That gravity will break our fall...

So sleeps the final question,
Posed by those who choose to think:
What happens if our end ends up just justified by our means?

Indeeeeed!

What for up the gatorade mang babyruth? Crab the whiskey funyun ichi nichi juu? Dorito phone-brush on a cracker with bubble gum eggs and q-tips, is what I mostly-empty-cup! Mmhmm! Mainichi! ;)
Well, unburned blue flower candle... Don't speaker knob the black stapler or alien keychain the unopened spongebob, or you'll 200ml water bottle for the flashlight houndette!

Timing Isn't Nothing.

In this place we call the world,
A person such as me is wasted;
My individuality...
Is not the usual dish of choice
Opon which the masses feed.
In fact, it's barely ever tasted,
And I'm perpetually dismayed
To find that only I am ever me.

So,
As butter brushed upon the toast of life,
I will melt away and be consumed,
Until I am no longer me:
My form no longer mine,
My thoughts no more my own,
My ideologies merely food—
Though not yet the sort for thought—
For, despite this hell we call the world,
I might have saved you from its ruin
But for the fact I came before my time -
While my needed change did not.

Occlusion

Memories drift before my mind's eye,
Mind's sky exhaling puff after precious puff of past
With every languid, torturous breath it gasps:
Clouds vast enough to hide behind... and from -
Great barren wombs in which my hopes—entombed—despair,
Miscarriage mocking any dream this mind might think to bear;
Insubstantial for to float upon—just severe enough to dwell—
And not pleasing enough to wear (upon my sleeve in company),
I'm bereft of reason why I sustain such memories as these.

de eXp3r!m4nT

"Aye yai yai,
Stick uh need-uhl in mah eyeeee-ah,
Ya kno muh shit may stink,
But-just-cuz it's on fi-yah!
...
Thumb wrestlin wid mah gangly erection,
Wanna see if I can get my dick into the election,
(wuuuuut?!)
Teech dese bums to turn they lives into a bitchin direction,
Git'um stoned and laid and hope they end up wid an infection,
Cuz aye'm da champ u kno it,
Dis'll show it,
So here we go I'm gunna pop it off now as you blow it--
BOOM!--
Brought down-town, struck the rhyme-chime,
Ran out of nouns to sound but I'll just play on muh lifelife...

WERD!

FOOS!

NUK-NUK-NUK-NUKKA!"

---

- There! Now I am officially a mastah rappah. Where's my million bux? Penthouse built yet? C'mon, people! I was promised it *wasn't* a problem that my IQ is higher than my age! Don't make me roll up on yo' ass in my 'sclade and show you how a tire iron makes babies!

Some people...

... need to be more generous!

Where's the holiday spirit these days, for Buddy Christ's sake!?

This holiday season, I'd like to introduce the perfect gift for your favorite poser/gangbanger/junkie/emo/jock/redneck/religious nut or other miscellaneous stereotype:

"The Make Your Own Suicide Kit!"

Now, I labored over this thing night and day for weeks, folks! Tested it on every volunteer I could find, in fact.

... which, actually, was nobody - so I ended up testing it at my high school reunion last month. (No worries, none of them had changed a bit! I just said they'd get one of those big cookies -- you know what I'm talkin' 'bout? Those giant frosted beasties sold at the lunch cart by the weird gypsy lady with the featureless face and a mute macaw in her apron? You like, totally know! Yeah, I thought she just had a pointy navel for awhile, too).

This kit is shipped for free to your home (or gift recipient of your choice), and comes complete with everything you need to be absolutely sure that the teenager next door (you know, the one who always takes his mom's medication, strips naked, runs screaming into your yard and scares your dog away, then rolls in your wet grass clippings and throws himself violently against your house until he gets an erection - which he proceeds to use as a brush to paint cave-drawings on your windows with his... yeah?)--and his parents!--will be able to set up and carry out a satisfying and elaborate suicide!

Kit includes:

• 2x Dull Scissors (1 pink, 1 black!);
• 1x Knotted Noose (nothing says "I'm sorry" like "SNAP!");
• 1x Trick Knotted Noose (guaranteed to--sometimes--break on use! Imagine all the short-lived laughs!);
• 2x Vial of Arsenic (sure to satisfy the classic tastes of your emo son or daughter!);
• 5x Assorted Rusty Household Utensil (for those adventurous suiciders!);
• 2x Sharpened Razor Blade ( //wrists - it just never gets old! Use while laying on a roof for the most gruesome drainage!);
• 2x Ball-Point Pen (supposedly you can kill people with these.. we encourage the end user to give it a shot!);
• 1x Sharpened Sheet Glass (this 8ft. x 8ft. glass pane is perfect for those with outside help - drop it on your head from a height of more than 30 feet, and watch the splatterfest! See "Final Destination" for detailed instructions).

---

I am so confident that you will love this product that I am offering a COMPLETE, UNCONDITIONAL guarantee: if the recipient of your Suicide Kit gift fails to kill him/herself after all items have been used, I will send a team of professionals from the office to fix the problem for good! (Don't worry, they're well-trained. Monkeys).
This deal can't get any better, and it won't last forever - so order now! Time's a-wastin', and so are these peoples' lives! Act now!

A new home for my vagrant thoughts

Hello, everyone. My name is Jim, and I'm a learn-aholic. It's been 5 months since I last ate an encyclopedia, and I've been using my dictionaries for target practice in preparation for the upcoming war of the pastries. Personally, I'm voting for pie; sure, you can stick your thumb in a cake--like a dweeb--and pull whatever the heck you want out of it... but it just doesn't sound as cool as when you do the same with a pie. Besides, who the hell sticks their thumb in a cake!? Haha. Fargles!
Anyway, I'm migrating my intellectual livestock to this here barnyard. I got tired of constantly stepping in giant, steaming piles of brainure over at that other pasture; I'm pretty sure somebody will clean up after me here.

And if they don't... I shall viciously chastise them! Rawr!