Where is my damned scribe?

Most days, I wish I had a scribe running around behind me. I have so many thoughts I want to write about throughout the day — some big, some small — that I can’t remember a fraction of them to start with. Even when I can, by the time I sit at a computer and have time to type them out, I’m no longer interested in exploring that thought. If I had that damned scribe kicking around while I’m driving through town or getting dressed after a massage, I could simply verbalize a whole post and just come back to edit it before posting it online. Damn, that would be easier.

Another option would be a voice recorder. Actually, I think I have one of those. But then I’d have to listen to my own voice and transcribe the words, and I wouldn’t like that. Listening to yourself speak is only slightly better than seeing video of yourself — anyone who is not a delusional narcissist will wince at both of those things. It’s a terrible thing to see the way your mouth twists to one side when you speak, or hear the tiny lisp or annoying sing-songy cadence in your voice. I find that stuff horrifying.

So I don’t know what I’m to do. I mean, today alone, I had at least three, maybe four things I wanted to write about. What were they now? I don’t know. I think one was about how we should be forced to see both the upstream and downstream costs of everything we do. For example, if you buy a car, you should have to sit through a seminar that details the destruction and waste caused by each step of the cars construction (like the mining of the metals and fabrication of the plastic moulding), as well as the destruction and waste associated with drilling for and refining gas and oil so that the car can run, and also the amount of pollution that car will puke forth in its lifetime, and so on and so forth. I think the same approach should go for everything else, too: the food we eat, computers and phones we use for a few years and then throw away, the cheap clothes made by slave labour that we wear, etc. People in the first world should be forced to confront the vast waste and destruction we are responsible for, and we should feel guilty and miserable for it. We deserve it.

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Buy chocolate, and you are responsible for rampant deforestation in the Amazon — animals are literally going extinct because you have a sweet tooth. Sleep well.

And that’s just one of the gems I thought about today that I DIDN’T have a scribe to write down for me!

Now it’s a few days later (I’m writing this in fits and starts), and today while I was on a run, I thought of something I wanted to write about. But when I got home, I couldn’t remember the damn thing. I retraced my steps and remembered other things I thought about during other portions of the run, but couldn’t remember the thing I wanted to write about. If only I had a damned scribe with me then. Fear not, though, dear readers — while laying on the floor doing yoga after my run, I spontaneously remembered the lost idea so I jumped up, dashed to the computer, and jotted the basic premise down. I will be delving into this latest masterpiece soon.

But my point is I need a scribe, stat. I can’t keep working like this. I’m hamstringing myself, like Michelangelo being forced to paint the Sistine Chapel with crayons. It’s insanity.

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I’m just goofing around. I know I have more in common with this Michelangelo.

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wishing for human extinction (again)

this photo just won first prize in the world press photo contest, and it simultaneously breaks my heart and makes me want to nuke the human race off the face of this fucking planet. we are so careless and destructive, and no one seems to give a shit.

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if that was a human being trapped in a net, there would be all sorts of global outrage, then the person would be freed and honoured as a hero, then they would become a diplomat or dignitary, then they would make presentations and speak to the UN about blah blah blah. in short, we’d make a big fucking deal out of it if this was a person.

but because it’s just some lowly non-human, this photo will pass without much of a murmur.

that doesn’t make sense to me.

i want to remember moments like this, times when i hate the human race the most, so that i won’t feel so sad about watching us kill ourselves over the coming years. we deserve it. when the day comes that everyone starts dropping like flies, choking on smog and cancers and killing each other for usable land and water, i want to think about this photo, smile, and say to myself, “our race deserves as slow and agonizing a death as possible for all the suffering and destruction we’ve thoughtlessly caused the rest of the planet — this is right, this is fair. there is justice and balance in the universe after all. hallelujah.”

a time for everything, but cooler

because i was recently complaining about how uninterested i am in enslaved’s later ‘hard rock’ era, i decided to revisit the album that marked what i saw as their sudden, steep decline: isa. i just listened to it while doing the dishes. it’s an ok album that has a few moments i like quite a bit, but there’s tons of stuff i don’t like in between them. i give it maybe a 6/10, if i’m feeling positive.

however, i forgot that one of my favourite lines of all time appears in the title track — “a time to burn, a time to build.” i still love it. it pops up about 1:40 in the middle of the second verse, which seems like an odd place for something i find so powerful but i think it actually suits the intention of the line perfectly.

to me, the lyric is sort of a simple, old world norse take on ‘a time for everything.’ what i prefer about this version is the acknowledgement of the apparent chaos and destruction as part of the natural ebb and flow — no more, no less important. just part of the cycle. just a fact of life.

that’s why i like it appearing where it does, in the middle of the second verse. it’s like “this is no big deal. it’s just a simple truth. no need to get excited about it and make a chorus or focal point out of it.”  to me, that inconspicuous placement of the lyric suits its theme: a quiet, confident acceptance of or indifference to these things beyond control, regardless of how pleasant or frightening they might be.

so even though i don’t like isa much, i’m glad i gave it another spin and was reminded of that powerful line. i hope i can remember it when our fucked up world erupts in utter bedlam in the not so distant future.

thanks, enslaved. now get dirge rep back on drums and make some more crazy psychedelic norse mythology-based death metal instead of the limp pink floyd-inspired bullshit you’ve been churning out for the last several albums.

how does it feel?

after just bitching so much about what is not sexy, i wanted to mention a few things that i DO find sexy.

  • genuine smiles
  • genuine love of sex
  • nice eyes
  • confidence
  • womanly curves
  • flesh

when it comes down to it, any real person has the potential to turn me on. for example, i typically love curves on a girl but that being said, there are some olive oyle’s i find really attractive too — literally! like shelley duvall.

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i bitch lots but there’s lots of stuff i do like. it’s just not as fun to write about that stuff. despite my obsessions with death, depression, chaos, satan, destruction, and the like, i’m actually a pretty chipper individual. i imagine it’s actually because of those obsessions that i’m as happy as i am but i couldn’t begin to say why. at least, not today anyway.

god, i love having a blog. completely, shamelessly self-centered.