Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Still Kickin'

So here we go, I've decided that I'm going to take the majority of Ads off of this site and begin an actual public access site. This one will still be known as the place where I put my inner most thoughts and ect. However, I'm sure none of you, my closest friends and dedicated readers actually enjoy being pressured into pressing ads to try to make money for me. Therefore I'm about to save you all from any guilt every again. I'll leave a little google adsense one between each post, because quite frankly some of the things that turn up in them are funny, but all the others have got to go.

What is this new public access blog going to feature you ask? Well I'm glad you asked but I'm not quite sure yet, I'm pretty sure it's going to start with this polyphasic sleep experiment nonsense I'm trying, and grow into, well whatever it decides to grow into. I've stopped searching for something that will make a blog popular and settled on just letting happen (Thanks to becky for the advice). Maybe it'll be CD reviews, maybe it'll be experiement logs, diet help, personal help, help in general, I'm not sure, I've just narrowed it down to subjects that would be practically helpful to people. No one really reads other's thoughts for pleasure at this point.

However, I know you, my most honorable readers enjoy my inner most thoughts, and I much appreciate the attention. Though I must apologize, sometimes I feel as though I'm acting a little bit like a martyr, constantly going on about things and how they bother me. Well it's true, a lot of things do bother me, but I try to put a little bit of an interesting spin on the way I express them. It's just something I like to do, sit here and explain my situations to you.

My Honorable readers.

Anyway, say, BYE BYE to the ads, and I'll be starting the new polyphasic sleep site momentarily.

Could you Believe it?

Okay, I slept in on my first core sleep last night. Actually quite badly. But I'm not giving up yet. I think I can keep cutting back that over sleep time if I really try, and not to mention that I should start a day with full sleep and all the naps in before I attempt staying up all night any time soon. I'm pretty excited to actually get this under way, but I guess it'll be a much longer process than just deciding not to sleep one night.

I looked at some medical journals about all of this recently and it actually turns out that polyphasic sleeping is a tried and tested method of many military organizations. I guess if I do get it down pat, I'll be ready to be drafted if anything really bad goes down, such as snow in nearly april.

Oh wait, that happened.

Can you believe this!? Mother Nature must be really pissed off about something because quite frankly, this snow fall/no school cancellation is just too much for me. It's going to be either a super long day today, or we'll get sent home at lunch because that's what the bumbling school district always ends up doing if the going gets tough weather-wise. Mainly, I don't want to be in school today for any extended period of time because I'll a) Have to go to Biology. b) Have to Write that Physics test. c) Shovel AFTER a day at school rather than shovel INSTEAD of a day at school.

God! You'd think this whole environment thing would start cutting us some slack, what with the reduction of CO2 emissions, the swirl light bulbs and the lack of cow cloning. I just simply can't believe it. I want to go down to the school district and tell them it's simply a misunderstanding with Mother Nature, and that we should all stay in our homes for the next week or so just until everything shells over. We don't want any one getting hurt now do we?

Basically, I'm incredibly bitter about actually having to leave the house today.

I'll get over it.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Here We Go Again

Okay, so as many of you heard from me today at school, or recently, I’ve decided to take up the polyphasic sleep charge again. I’m going to attempt something somewhat easier this time though.

During my attempt (mind you, incredibly failed attempt) at the Uberman sleep pattern, in which you take six naps spread out through your day, I found that it is incredibly hard to function socially on account of my always having to sleep. The Everyman Polyphasic sleep schedule still allows me two extra hours on each day, and allows a slightly more flexible social life.

Uberman’s schedule was ludicrous, and it would surely take some form of obsession to master it. Sleep for 20 minutes every six hours, no matter how difficult it may be to keep that schedule. I don’t think any one could be sane enough to truly live like that, unless of course they worked from home, had no wife or any children and most frequently urinated on house hold appliances while adapting the the Uberman.

The Everyman makes it much simpler. It simply calls for one core sleeping period, which consists usually of a three to four hour repose, and three periodic naps throughout your day. The core nap, or sleep period of the cycle defuses another problem that Uberman proposed. It allows us to continue differentiating between day time and night time, giving us some sense of method in time.

The three naps can be spaced much differently on account of the core sleep at the theoretical end of your day. My personal schedule will run as follows.

Everyman Sleep Schedule

Core:  12:00 am – 3:00 am

Nap 1:  8:00 am

Nap 2:  12:30 pm

Nap 3: 4:00 pm

Possible Error

I realize that it will be difficult for me to adapt to the schedule, however, the way the naps are going to function will allow me to fall asleep quite easily at the assigned times. This being the problem before, I’m sure it will help to dispose of some difficulty.

I also worry that perhaps the gap between my third daily nap and my Core may be too great. However, I’m led to believe that because it’s leading into the longer more rejuvenating core, that the lengthy period between will not hinder me too greatly.


It can be said that I will make revisions on this as soon as I am able, however, tonight will be my most difficult task of falling asleep by midnight, and reawakening by three AM.

To all of you reading, wish me the best of luck.


I want this so bad

Sunday, March 29, 2009


So I’ve done it, I’ve found something I can truly do and enjoy, and this time it’s going to be solid. I just hope people will read it. Basically, what I’m going to do is, is every week, maybe twice a week, I’m going to pick a CD, with some sort of random fashion that is not yet determined, and I’ll review it. I’ll let people know the breakdown I see with it. Of course I’ll include all my usual fluff.

So, in other news, today I worked again. Go figure. In other other news, I’m not so sure I want to keep inside-out a deleted blog or not. Personal Help’s important, and I kind of want to keep it going, just for the sake of somewhere to go when I’m feeling incredibly compassionate. People deserve to know a little bit of charisma, and hopefully I can provide it to them.

So I’m getting no where with time management, absolutely butt fuck no where, but I guess there isn’t much you can do. I tried to do it, procrastinated, couldn’t finish the reading. Go figure.

I have some mysterious stats going on in my ratings by the way. I suddenly had close to 70 visitors. What’s that coming from? Who knows, but I sincerely appreciate your interest, and I hope you come back!

I’ve been torn today, torn very terribly between which condiment I should prefer most. Mustard, or peanut butter. I know, I know, it seems like the obvious choice is peanut butter, because you’re going to say “ewww mustard’s gross”. This is not the matter. I enjoy my mustardy goodness, and will continue enjoying in the future. Why I reached this dilema is because I could not choose what kind of sandwich to make for work. So to avoid ever having to make such a heart breaking decision, I decided to completely abandon one condiment.

It was a long and arduous process, but in the end I decided mustard and peanut and I would all group as a collective to literally fuck Mayonnaise up. This concludes captain’s log star date today sometime.

Much appreciated.

p.s. – My first CD review is going to be Ace Ender’s CD “When I hit the Ground” wish me luck!


Okay, so I've already given up writing another blog? Why is this? Because quite honestly, I think I was trying to copy Steve Pavlina, and also, I don't think it's easy to capture the attention of, well anybody, with just a site about some sort of personal help, so I'm going to stick to this blog for a little while, I'm going to keep brainstorming, because I'm sure, soon enough, I'll find some way to create a blog with interesting things on it.

Steve Melvin told me something very insightly friday night, he told me that I should start blogging about topics, start blogging about something specific, and I think that might be a good idea, I just don't know where I can start. Maybe start by telling litle stories? Maybe try to go straight for humor? I'm not exactly sure, but it's getting more and more difficult to think of things that I can go about doing. What I have realized though, is that, no matter what I decide to start writing about, I'm going to end up losing more of what little time I already have.

I'm hoping soon I can get something going, something really captivating, but to all of you out there, I sincerely appreciate you coming along and following me through all of this.

In brighter news, my extremely dear and close friend Becky is starting a movie reviews blog, how cool is that! I wish I could be part of it, but something tells me that she watches a lot more movies than I do, and also that she probably has a more proper insight than I can offer, but still, that won't stop me from becoming an avid reader. You can see her reviews (when they get up and running) over at Fresh Cucumbers. Good luck Becky!

I'm going into the studio on tuesday to record the rest of what we've just been calling "derrr" but I'm not exactly sure what that real name will be, after all is said and done, I don't put much thought into what I actually call our songs. I just play guitar and sing. But, basically, I'll be the one going on in and making some licks and vox and then I'll come home and dwell on a name. It's on tuesday, which is incredibly unfortunate, because that's the night I almost always spend with Julianna, I'll have to get her to come with me, just for that night. Though I think it'll be a little boring for her... I can only hope I can keep her entertained. I really want to get this song done.

Lately, I've been trying to conquer the first hour of my day, trying to actually get something good done in that little while, so expect to see my blogs almost every morning, if you're really looking to read them quickly.

Saturday, March 28, 2009


I’ve been going deeper and deeper into time management, I’ve found some really interesting sites on the topic, and I think I’m on my way to actually becoming a productive individual. All of the reading I’ve been doing on personal development had been inspiring, and I feel I’ve found my talent.

I’ve started a blog to help people find the kind of oneness I found with myself. People always comment on my charisma, by ability to connect with others, and help them through things, so I’ve taken up my charge in writing a personal help blog. Help you understand you ect. It’s something I’ve wanted to try to express for a long time, and I think it’s finally time to pass on the information to whoever is willing to listen.

If you want to see what it’s all about, I recommend you hop on over to Inside Out. It’s only got one post right now, but I worked pretty hard on it. If you’d like to follow me there too, I’d be smitten. I realize that it’s going to be hard to really have people just jump on board and listen to me, however, it’s really all I know how to explain, all I know to pass on.

In other news, I’m a little ways into Steve Pavlina’s book, it’s starting to get a little rocky, what with all the meditation involved, but I think I understand his viewpoint. Make your world your own. It’s inspiring, and I’ve got to-do lists and other different forms of personal development that I’m going to try out. I really like the book so far. I recommend it.

There’s about three other things that went down this weekend. I partied a little bit of course, had a grand old time. It’s enviable of all the people who are so resourceful in a police situation. I think eventually I’ll adapt to it. I have to, I’ll be in Newfoundland this time next year, hopefully still typing to you, letting you all know what’s going on.

I’ve become renewed in my guitar playing. I feel like it’s a part of me again, another burst of personal inspiration. I think Music might actually be the thing I was meant to do, if not help people in whatever way I can.

As for the bitter post I made earlier, it’s bitter and that’s unfortunate, but I felt really bad when I got home today, I had to get it out some how.

Anyway, I’m off to bed, work again in the morning.

Take Care.

Strange Days

You've really gotta wonder what happens when people are at parties together, the messages they send through their eyes to some one across the room. Jolts leaping from on spot to another, kicking the neurons in some one elses brain to realize or assume something. You've really gotta wonder what possesses people to actually cheat on their significant some one. Why some one would decide to bat their eyelashes down the train of people when they've already got some one so extremely suitable waiting for them.

And you passed up some one more than suitable.

It's just a damn shame that you find it so necessary to cross your hands with his. Just a strange and ironic sin. Do I blame him? I could, but in honesty, I kind of like the guy, actually, I kind of like both guys involved in this situation, and what did you do, you some how managed to come in and fuck things up for yourself. Could you say that I'm angry at you? Could you say that I don't want you to be happy? I could say a lot of things but what would it matter, you'll never actually change, and I hope he doesn't buy your I can change bullshit.

To think, to simply fathom that you would go on and leave him behind. To just ponder the consequences would have stopped you. He treated you so much better than that. You've cheated once, you've probably now twice. Congratulations ____ ____, you're part of the  Social Memorial, Walk of Fame, Name in the star. You fucked up once again.

You tried this whole thing with me. You tried this whole sham with me. I feel bad that he had to fall into your trap. Could he not smell the little cinnamon whisps of defunct shit that you weave? You're little Fireball graced slurs, did he find that attractive? Did he not see you the next day, did he not understand what he had done? I don't see him a dumb boy, he was simply misled, and that is incredibly unfortunate.

I feel like he should be given some sort of purple heart, some kind of honor for putting up with this. He wouldn't be a martyr, of course not. He couldn't be a martyr, his heart is too full with something. Something for you, but you defiled it, you fucked it up. And across the room, you knew you did. Those little statically charged neurons pattering away at the coarse patterns in your brain as you stared into his eyes. Your corneas searching for some other truth in him. Your depth perception failing for the alchohol. You were just searching for forgiveness. Forgiveness you don't deserve.

Flip your red hair.

You look up to this man you shouldn't be with. This man. Your history with him would mean nothing to ___ if you would just keep your hands off of him. You would be in the clear, there would be no frustration if you had any morality at all, but that's obviously out the door.

Burn your bible, beat your kids.

I think I might be ranting, but I sincerely and honestly feel terrible for bearing witness to such a shit show of bad judgement.

Enjoy single life.


 - To sir Oagles, I feel for you.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Improving Blog Traffic

Okay, so I've been reading up on blog traffic, really trying to break it down into the how's and whys, the it's and whats. I really don't know where to start, or really what to do. Basically I've become incredibly confused with all of the things that I could be writing about. I just need some way to get myself started on all of this.

I tried looking at search trends in google, trying to find out what was most popular in my field of talents. Of course, I look at the trends in music. What comes up you ask? When I search for the general trends in music under arts and entertainment?


Do you know what comes up when I search for guitar under entertainment.

Guitar Hero

What comes up with I look at the general population's choice of searches?




Uggghhh, I can't escape that book, it seems like everybody wants to read it. That, or teenage girls just prefer to type the word into the search engine a million times just to prove they're a more die-hard Cullen fan than the last. You have to understand how terribly frustrating this is.

Okay, so I'm trying to write a blog that will attract a lot of people. This is my venting spot mind you, where all the people who really want to see my psyche will see it. That's you, my valuable and dedicated readers, I think you very much for it. Any way, back to my dilema.

I need to find out exactly what I can write and how I can write it as to attract a global audience. Steve Pavlina, my guidance at is saying to write timeless material. Is saying to write valuable material. Is saying to picture myself infront of a million people speaking. He says, I should say something worth while. What exactly can I say that would be worthwhile? What exactly can I offer?

What am I good at?

I can play guitar, I can teach guitar. But this requires videos, this requires a lot of time, something I'm currently working on. So, how am I going to figure all this hubub out? How am I going to make sure I make the right choice?

Who knows.

What do people want to read about? What can my valuable, timeless, important information be about? Google Says:




Honestly, I don't really know how I could ever write about something I know just little enough about to have an educated loathing of. So it's out of the question, I'm simply not going to write about it.

The next thing I've found becoming popular, is the blog written about people's life experiences becoming horrible, and terribly wretched. You're firmiliar with Fuck My Life? The website about unpleasant occurances? I could rip it off yes, but if I do, what would the good of me be hmm? See this is my dilema, I'm trying to brainstorm things that people would like to see/read about.

Help me out here people, when did I hit gold in my blogs? Have I ever done something that peaked your interest?

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

To-Do (March 26th - April 2nd)

For the record, every time management site says that I have to start a to-do list. For the record, wasting time reading on time management seems ironically counter-productive.

To Do Next Week

1. Write a song

2. Work out every other night

3. Read a whole book

4. Put 50$ in savings

5. Create a popular Blog

Okay, so it doesn't seem like much, but this week, I had a total of three hours free unscheduled chaos time. This is on a seven hour sleep schedule, even on weekends. I think I have to work on that. Wish me luck!

Time Management

I think I'm done trying to go about frittering time away. I've got university coming along next year, so it's time to start focusing on exactly what it is that I have to focus on. Money.


It's the one thing you have to worry about every time you turn around. It's the one thing flying out of my pocket the moment I get it. I've decided on a few things, a few things to actually get myself set for a life outside, in the real world. The real real life. The one that sneaks up on you while you try to enjoy your last year of high school. That one. But I guess it's about time anyway. I guess I had to come about it some way, and besides, if I get really get at time management, about money management, about all things money wise in general, I'll actually be able to expand myself properly and come about making more time for myself, and for my friends.


Sometimes I wish that I could be constantly and consistently moving at a speed so fast that time will contract, time will move more slowly, time will become something alterable for me. I wish so deeply that I could actually see time in that vector way that Dr. Manhattan can. Wishing on many different things can only fritter time away however. So I've decided that this will be my formal letter to all of you. Any one who may stumble upon this. This is my letter saying that I am going to begin with my own personal growth.

You have to realize, I've had my time charted out for my entire life. Mommy and Daddy taking care of the hard end of things, the end that time and money are on. It's my turn now, it's my turn to actually take it into my own hands, and try to turn it around, try to become an individual. I could use a few more hours a day, and perhaps through this personal growth, I will get there. I'll get that few extra hours to work on my physics paper, work on some tuition money, work on my relationship with the light in my life, Julianna.

Time time time.

You've gotta realize that sometimes it's best if you just throw yourself into things with a massive burst of initiative. It makes you feel a lot better about it when you actually achieve something. Maybe this extra time will give me a few more hours to work out in every day, to lose weight in. Maybe. Maybe it'll give me a little extra time to read, to actually enjoy life as I'm suppose to. I just need more time.


It's still there, in the back of your mind, and you're trying to tell yourself it's just going to come to you. I've realized now, I've realized that throwing away funds like I have been is a foolish pursuit of something completely nonexistent. I won't find happiness through material possession, buying guitars, books, games. I just have to make due with what I have. I want to take everything I have now, and use only that to do what I have to do to get through until I move out of here, until I pay off my first year's tuition.

Isn't this what everyone thinks about? Maybe in these few hours a day that I will gain I'll actually be able to find out who my roommate is in university next year, I'll actually be able to see if me and Quinn will be rooming together. Maybe in those extra few hours, I can do some assignments for people and make it possible to make a little bit more money with my ability to fluff up Shakespeare in a few moments. 500 words, with citations, with all the quotes planted nicely with proper grammar stuck in, 30 minutes. 10$. Fraudulent? I think not, simply another way to help people who don't have enough time, to make more time for me. Just a synergy between two people who can't find time to do things.

Let my strengths play on your weakness. Let my weakness, benefit from your strength.

With just a few hours extra, every day, I could spend time with my friends, my dear dear friends whom I see barely at all except for in the hallways at school. It's nice of course, however, wishing to see them makes me crazy, I wish I could be like them, so care-free, so moving. Some day, I'll have my few extra hours to hang out, to play video games, to fritter away without worry. Someday

I can only imagine how happy I could be if in those extra hours I can make my life with Julianna flourish in such a way. To be able to lay there with her in my arms, to have her head on my chest while she breaths with me. A synergy of two people, working together. It's just something I wish we had more time for. Or more time to go to parties with her. To be there, to hear the music, to play the music, to watch each other thrash around socially. If only I had those extra few hours.

Time and Money

Monday, March 23, 2009


It’s so easy to say something about some one else’s work, but as soon as your work takes the stethoscope you start to really really wonder what’s going on. You start to really reconsider the way that you’ve been writing, the way that you’ve been playing, the way that you’ve ect. ect. ect.

I’m not sure what it is I want to do with my life, but I’d love to write. Write write write. It just seems like the perfect thing to do. It’s seems like I could sit all day and tippity tap the key board, telling stories. I just don’t have the motivation. The positive reinforcement.

Tell me what to do.


Just offer a few suggestions if anything. What is it that Jeff Cook is best at? What is it that I can do best? The new Career Advice thing that I’m taking in school tells me to SHOOT FOR THE STARS.

Job Opportunity: Author

Just a few things that I might be good at. Would you buy a book that I wrote? Would you buy that book? Would you want to know what I’m writing enough to ACTUALLY pay for it? You’ve gotta let me know, put a little bump in the right direction.

Job Opportunity: Musician

You’ve gotta know people who know people who know the pope to be a famous musician. It takes extreme talent and time that I just don’t have. But I guess with enough positive reinforcement, I can make time. I can start recording with all the free time I have. I can write write write ALL DAY. Just give me the positive reinforcement, just let me know what you want me to do. TELL ME.

Job Opportunity: Chef

I wish, I honestly honestly honestly do. I wish I could make fine cuisine and have everyone eat it, that would be absolutely fantastic. It’s just something I’ve come to love to do. Cook, it’s fun! But I mean, again, do you think I could make it? Think I could come out on top? Maybe… maybe…

Job Opportunity: Artificial Intelligence Psychometrics

Isn’t that the coolest sounding job title in the world? It’s actually one thing that I would really enjoy doing, because it’s something that would encompass everything that I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s the analysis of human emotion, human psychometrics. With your data, you compile ways through software to replicate true human emotion artificially. You create artificial intelligence. I read people, I love computers, and it’s got a bitchin’ job title. What could be more perfect.

Job Opportunity: Dancer

Get over it, it’s not happening.

Job Opportunity: Fashion designer

Not a chance.

Job Opportunity

Job Opportunity

The rest of your life is waiting for you to choose, but everything says “shoot for the stars.” Can I do that? Can I go out on a limb and try to make it in the world of fame and infamy?

Maybe someday.

Let's make this our last...

There are
Six ways
I wouldn't mind dying
One of which
Is lethal
There are two
Of these ways
That would
One of these
Thing is
You cannot
Of old age.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Once (Part 2)

It's explosive and it's amazing. It's fireworks, it's calamity. It's the beautiful beautiful chaos that we bleed for. It's the wonderful thriving anarchy that we pray for. It's everything you thought it would be, and now it's more. It's something so much... so much... so much. It's just that. If you could put words to the music it wouldn't be a dance at all. If you could put music to the music you heard, if you could remember that bah-dum bah-dum tripped up melody, you'd have beauty in the palm of your hand. You'd have beauty there in your arms. bah-dum bah-dum.


If it could only have lasted a little bit longer. The three days that were so so so perfect. They were the last piece of sky delievered on the freshest air on to the puzzle you've been piecing. You'd harbour the truth, but it's screaming. You'd pull that tooth, but you just love that screaming. Oh the truth the truth the truth. You can't keep it. "The world's going to know" Oh oh oh the truth the truth the truth. I know they know and it's wonderful. It's ecstasy it's bah-dum bah-dum beautiful.

Preparing for descent

Did you worry worry wart? Did you niggle on the little platter a fine piece of worry cuisine? Tickity tock, no time for that, so you didn't. Tore the paper. Doned the robe. Bah-dum Bah-dum. If you could only remember that melody. Oh how you'd hold beauty in your arms. Oh how you'd want to harbour the screaming truth. It's out it's out it's out. Worth a high-five? Worth a "Finally man!" Worth a beautiful beautiful melody? Yes yes yes and more so than ever yes. You let out the screaming truth because the world knows and it's over and it's beautiful.

Grounding in 3

You're just so caught up in all of the perfection. It's picture perfect. Picture-esque facade on the back of a napkin where you ate. All those places you ate. Morning morning morning. bah-dum bah-dum. You're eating and you're walking and it's just cold enough to stop holding hands. You don't like it, don't want it, you want her hand. It's alright though, don't worry worry wart because there's that charge between you now. It's arcing, jumping. Hand to hand, worry wart don't worry. There's a charge.

Grounding in 2

Caught by surprise champagne in hand. Stomp stomp stomp to the clomp clomp up to the stair case two steps steep. There you go, you're through the door, you're there for the night again. Simple simple steep steps. Only two. Did you climb did you climb? Screaming truth! And you worried worry wart. You worried and then you didn't and it was gone and you were like stone. Like stone! 

Grounding in 1

"Babe, the whole world's gonna know," And you want them to. Yes you do, it's something they should know because it was beautiful. It was wonderful fantastic and it was the greatest weekend of your life. SCREAMING TRUTH. It's all coming real now though, you're gotta go back to school tomorrow, you've gotta start doing that routine thing again. aaaaaahhhh nooooo...

Welcome back to Reality, please have your boarding pass ready.



Realize you
Can't live without
Can't live without

Oh close
Close close close
Wonder what
You would do
This isn't ending
Anytime soon.

Friday, March 20, 2009


It's going to set in here in around a couple days. This is the third, which is the second last, night of the musical. It's the third, which is the second last, night of Footloose. My last final dernier musical production. As far as I know, it'll be the last time people'll clap for me on stage.

Everyone's going on tour this summer, I think I'll stay home.

It just feels weird to know that some time in the incredibly near future I'll have some measure of free time. It feels strange to know that I'm going to start sitting around doing nothing again simply because most nights I'll have a commitment to fulfill some time after five. A couple hours wasted each day. A couple hours I could be dancing on stage, singing for people, entertaining them. These are going to be the longest 11 weeks of my life.

These are going to be 11 weeks of nothing until graduation.

On one hand, I'm excited that I'll finally be able to give her due attention. She deserves so much more than she's been getting, and it'll be a relief to finally pick her up on week nights again. Fritter away a few hours, kissing, talking, taunting, all that cute stuff. Just a chance to not have such a pressing time restraint. Just to push off all those bonds and move into something real again.

I guess I was a little worried.

Some things still make my niggle more than usual. Some things still make my mind just tickity tick tick when it shouldn't. I'm writing more than ever now, short stories, poems, lyrics, guitar guitar guitar. I wish I was going away on the road on tour with SOME ONE this summer, but I just don't have enough time to pull it all together properly. I write write write. More wasted work.

Some days I wish it was back in the golden days.

Sound of a Silent Scream. Just Breathe. Deep Sixx. Dionysis. The good days, the good old days when it was all about getting our music out there and playing shows. Playing shows and making an album. It never saw the light of day of course. Our "Four song EP". I lost a brother at the end of that band, I lost a lot at the end of that band. I just want to go back to when we played a sold out show.

You're on stage, and people love you. Just like footloose, except every song is your solo. It's more personal.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009


This world became some what of a burden to him as a child. He hated everything about it, but he couldn't seem to just stop. So he did what any self respecting child would do. He grew up to be a self-loathing prick of a man.

Pushing around all of those was never much a problem for him. His own voice echoing through the thin walls of the office where he worked. He climbed through the echelons of this useless little packing office and became the region manager. Head Honcho, Big Cheese. He was the king of the packaging industry in his distric, and he let people know it.


Monday, the longest day of the week. He sat with his back away from the window, letting the green-housed light bathe over him. Blad head, red cheeks, heavy breathing. He was the epitome of intimedation, but it's what he needed. He needed to be ruthless, he needed to be terrible, it was his calling to be a tyrant. The tyrant of West Coast Packages, distric 419. He could hear them outside his opaque glass door, walking around, plotting against him. His teeth gritted and he bit back the urge to open the door and harass them again. Twice in one hour wouldn't be very productive.

So he sat, bathing in the sun light, waiting for the clock to finally arch over one last time. All he could do was wait. Why promote synergy when all his cronies only wanted to fuck around. Why micro-manage? He didn't really mind wasting a few minutes, he didn't really mind being harassed by the company head. It wasn't something that bothered him all that much, so long as he could be the messenger and ruin the lives of every one around him.

Of course he loved to be malignant, he suffered as a child.

This is when the phone rang. It was his wife. Crying again, he could barely make out a word she was saying, something about the kids from school. He violently reminded her that he was busy and didn't have time to pick the kids up at school. Then he brought to light the fact that she had become an old useless fuck, and that she should pick them up herself.


He didn't have to deal with this right now, because it was infact, the longest day of his life.

See, when you get beaten as a child. When your father drinks, and your mother takes vicodin to make sure that she doesn't remember your father drinks, you see the world in a whole new light. You see the world filled with malice, and see it only capable of creating more pain, and more hate for you to take part in.

Do you know how small you are?



He doesn't have to deal with this right now. More hustle bustle outside. He doesn't know why everyone's trying so hard to meet quota on a monday, especially this monday, it being the longest day of his life. He'd only slapped Sharon for not meeting quota last month because she'd been such a pompous bitch about work place regulations all week. Thing is, Sharon was on his bad side, and she deserved it.



The streets were the same way, hustle bustle. Cars honking, moving to get through as quickly as possible. You see, his view on automobiles was a little bit skewed. When he was sixteen, his father, reeking of alchohol, brought our protagonist out to a used car lot. His father said, pick a car, any car son. Of course, the boy was ecstatic, he'd never been offered any kindness in his entire life, this was his chance to redeem himself, to earn some freedom.

He chose as concienciously as he could, something not too expensive or flashy, but reliable. He motioned for his father when he found the right specimen, eyes beaming.

His father, as you may have guessed, stepped up to his side and promptly slapped his son across his face. He then clutched the boys cheeks between his boney fingers to bring his gaze level with the frightened youth. An even mixture of rum and saliva spraying from his mouth, he screamed terrible terrible things.

"You useless little fuck, you'll never afford this, you'll never afford any of these. This is your life lesson, this leading by example. I'm being a good father here because I'm reminding you of how shitty and useless you are. You'll never amount to enough to afford a car, a house a family, because you are a useless, insignificant, stupid fucking mistake."

You could say this caused a slight, disfunction in the boy. He never looked at cars the same way again.



The longest day of his life and it was finally almost over, finally almost drawing to a grinding end. It was then that the knock on the door happened. Go away.


Go Away.

He didn't want to see any one, he wanted to be alone. Alone as ever, just as he was in his own mediocre life now, just as he was in the mess of a life he once had. He wanted to be left alone to suffer out the worst day of his life.

The door opened regardless, and his wife trudged in, tears streaming down her face. She was fat by his standard, not nearly as beautiful as when they'd met, and she was crying. He reminded her of how ugly she was when she cried.


Your son is dead. I called you to tell you that, they found him at school, dead.


He fell off the top of the jungle gym and fell unconcious in the sand. No one did a thing, they all just watched as the seemingly dead boy lay on the ground. They called the ambulance, everyone was told not to move him. Thing is he was just unconcious, no spinal damage. Thing is, he died from asphixiation on account of breathing in the sand on the ground where his head lay.


Your son is dead.

It was at this point that he turned to the window to face the light head on. No tears, no sadness in his eyes at all. He stared straight into the sun and hoped to feel a slight pain in his corneas. Something to let him know he was still human. Nothing. Thing is, he didn't really care all that much. Thing is, he'd raped her as a teenager.

Thing is, the boy was a mistake.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Sir, I'm sorry, but after careful examination, we've determined that you have an infection. You have a virus. You have a syndrome.

You are a syndrome.

It seems like every person you touch, every one you get close to, they just spiral spiral spiral down down down. It's like a nice little example of the golden ratio bleeding out of everyone anyone all the ones you love. All the ones who are close enough to you, they just spin and spiral out. Down down down. Sir, the unfortunate symptom that goes along with you is severe and utterly un-coincidental misfortune. Sir, this means that you will cause peoples lives to take very strange turns in very strange directions. Everyday will be the longest day of the week for them because of this little syndrome you are. Sir, are you getting all this.


It seems like your little shit covered Midas' Touch is just doing the same thing it always does, it goes around and it makes sure everyone around you is so upset. It makes sure that they are absolutely miserable, particularly when you're around. Did I mention that everyone has this tendency to be incredibly miserable when you're around? Sir, it seems that another symptom of you, is static depression. It's called static depression because it doesn't move, it just keeps people in a sad, and angsty limbo. Sir, static depression is certainly not something even I would wish on some one. Sir, would you like me to repeat anything?

Am we clear sir?


Now, Sir, we're going to have to come up with an appropriate name for you. Whenever a syndrome is serious like you are, we have to quarantine you off, and make people aware of your existence. Today you are unknown disorder, tomorrow you are a malaria, the next day you are an OCD. Today you are a Turner's Syndrome, tomorrow you are a Small Pox, the next day you'll be something completely new and exciting. Sir, are you getting all this? Today you'll be a SARS, tomorrow you'll be Accidental Abortion, the next day you'll be, well you get the picture. Sir you're going to be called Cee Syndrome, C Syndrome, 3.8E8 Syndrome. Sir, am I coming off clearly?


You're like the speed of light. When things get close to you, they fuck up. Dilation of all things, the metaphysical fucking up of everything. Sir, do you understand that you cannot be close to people. You just have to understand this. Sir, are you getting all of this?


Monday, March 16, 2009

Incredibly Short Story?

Thing is, she never saw it coming.

The light in her bedroom was dim at best, not at all adequate to show the shadows of some violent intruder. Thing is, she liked the dark, liked the idea that anything could be hiding around the corner at any given moment. A morbid and terribly sad little girl who sat in the dark and embroidered the symbols of broken angst all over her clothes. She'd thread red stars and pentagrams into her jeans in the incredibly dimly lit room.

Thing is, she didn't mind being alone.

She'd twist the thread through the needle, and she'd rope the material together. One stitch after the other, just turning and colliding. Static Electricity. Twist and meld twist and thread. Static static static. It's just the tedious process that brings her comfort. She doesn't really care how she looks, at least not materially. She wanted to look as tortured as possible to everyone that looked her in the eye. Clothes didn't matter, they were just one way to mark tedium with process. Thread the string, string the thread, static electricity. Live entertainment.

She wanted to look tortured to everyone that ever saw her and this comforted her. The pity pity pity. If she could be the best martyr, she would get the best pity would get the best satisfaction would be able to cry for purpose. Tedium to process, crying for pity. So every night, in her dark little room, carefully stitching. She liked the dark because it hid things just right, and you could never see a mighty intruder standing in the corner, licking his lips.

Thing is, she never saw it coming.

Anyone watching, would think that at any given moment she might stop her threading, her tearful tearful threading and take the needle to her wrist She'd draw a thin red thread of deep crimson blood from her arm to drape across the floor with the mess of tears that she'd left there already. She wasn't about to do this though, thing is, she's a martyr. Pain would be too much for her, she doesn't care how she looks materially, just emotionally. Sunken eyes from a dark room and too many tears.

You'd think there would be some sad depressing foreboding music playing in the background, but there was none. Just silence in that dark little room.

Thing is, she threaded by candle light because there was no electricity.

So there she'd sit, sit sit perch. It was her spot to practice her crying, to sink her shallow eyes more deeply into her skull. She'd keep the one window closed and draped over because it was easier to concentrate. Easier to see the blood red stitches she made in her jeans, in her clothes. Lines that could very well be stains from her own blood. Don't forget though, she's a martyr, she doesn't harbour pain that way.

No blood at all really, just one girl in a dark room, hands weaving an intricate pattern. Stars and demons. Stitch over stitch. Thread and static static static.

Thing is, she didn't even see it coming.

Murphy's law states that the absolute worst possible situation will come to fruition in all cases that one fritters away time at worrying.

Thing is, the only thing a martyr does is worry.

Boyle's law states that as the volume of a system decreases, the pressure of any gas contained in the system will significantly increase. The density of the system will increase.

Thing, is she never saw it coming.

With one last tear, one last look at the pair of jeans she'd just finished, she began to think that it might not be worth it. When a martyr thinks, they often doubt. She thought about how she just very well may be able to forget all of this. She had will power enough to shut the world out, maybe it was time to let them back in. To have the will to finally talk to some one about all of these terrible terrible tears.

Thing is, sometimes it's too late.

So she folds up the pants she's been embroidering and throws them aside. It's time to finally stand up for herself and get on with her life.

Thing is, the house had been abandoned for about three weeks now.

With her hands on the floor to sturdy her ascent, the thin and frail girl begins to stand. She was pretty, there was no doubt, but most times, when people don't care about how they look materially, that gets over looked. Soon however, she would be back on track. It was a phase for her, and she decided it was over.

Thing is, they never turned off the gas valves.

Two steps towards the door before she can actually smell it, but she dismiss the fact and just keeps on getting her things together. The embroidering kit, the needles, the threads, the candle.


Thing is, as the unoccupied volume of a system decreases, the pressure of the gas contained with in, and along with that it's density increases.

She kept the window closed for concentration.

When you burn alive you tend to fall into a sort of shock state, and feel absolutely nothing, as your bodies adrenaline causes you to fall unconscious. Your bodies way of sparing you the most excruciating pain you could ever experience.

Thing is, the bubbling skin isn't even the worst part. It's the way your body curls onto itself, your head arching back, popping and stretching the melted skin on your abdomen. Your hair, or the singed and liquid remains of your beautiful beautiful hair, it almost touches the bones and melded flesh where your buttocks used to be.

Assume pugilists position.

Your fingernails cup down into your wrists, releasing the steam from the veins that should have blood in them. Assume the position. Your head touching your ass, your legs curled tightly into you. You're a child escaping the womb. Assume the position.

Thing is, she never saw it coming.


You've got so many reasons
To Just Be
Some one truly
But you can't let go.
Of all those things.
You've been
Holding on

If Only you
Could understand
How incredibly
Easy you
Actually have it
Then you can start to be


Saturday, March 14, 2009

It's Saturday Night

Working the later evening shifts at Sobeys, you generally see the shit of the world. you generally wonder why they're here so late, you generally wonder what makes them dress act stink the way they do. They walk by you in pairs trios quadruples and there's nothing unique about any of them. Generally speaking, most of them are just running a little late. Generally speaking, running late isn't exactly hamartia, it's just straight up lack of virtue.

Some people that come in look distinguished enough, but they're probably coming from a venue show of some sort that you couldn't bother to attend because, well hell, you're working the later evening shift at Sobeys. So these distinguished types that come in, they generally reek of whatever whatever type of olive oil that was sprinkled on their distinguished salad that was served with there distinguished wine. This is speaking of course, of only few people.

Generally speaking, most of these people that come in during the end of your later evening shift at Sobeys, they don't smile.

I like to play a game while I watch this people waltz around and do as they please like anyone else. I like to play a game while they add their own little flare to grocery shopping, because of course, generally speaking, these people don't grocery shop like everyone else does. Simply out of necessity. So I like to play a little game. It's called the, I wish I were doing something else right now game.

The rules are quite extensive, but it's easy to catch onto the trends after a little while. It's also easy to see how big a rip off this is of Palaniuk, spare me, let's play my game. Watch the people come in in duos trios quatros octuplets, now wait wait wait, here comes the game.

Every time you see some one in a thick coat slip something with little discretion under the many folds of his attire, wish you were with your friends. As he looks around and thinks that no one noticed, wish that you were out partying somewhere.

Working this late on a saturday night, every saturday night is just something you get used to. Walk walk walk, move a cart, walk walk walk, move a cart. It's just something that you've done so many times now that it's became a nice comfortable routine that is somewhat of cushy tedium. It's just sort of nice to throw yourself into something you really know what to do while the rest of the worlds flails around chaotically.

Everytime some one buys a box of condoms and winks at a female cashier, wish you were at home, reading a book.

I think I stopped taking cookies from the bakery and eating them because I thought it was going to make me fat. Wish you were home. I think it also could've been the fact that my image of morality started to get a little skewed.  Some one's in the store completely alone, no chance of being caught. They take nothing. This is how morality would become skewed with me. If I was there, I would eat cookies and cake all night and I would have my morality terribly skewed.

For every lazy deliquent that leaves there cart five feet from the doorway, wish that you called in sick for that surprise party.

You buy a fitness magazine and a health drink. You added a scoop of protien to your drink from starbucks. You did a lot today. You ate 13$ worth of chinese food. Tell yourself it all balances out, tell yourself you're not fat, tell yourself there's still some chance you can work out when you get home to work off that cookie you took from the bakery. Every time you think you're fat while working the later evening shift at Sobey's, wish you were at home eating cereal watching cartoons.

Everytime you consider yourself a valuable member of the Sobey's staff, wish you were watching Yu-gi-Oh when Yu-gi-Oh was cool.

Everytime your manager wishes you luck next week because she won't see you for 14 days, wish you were with your girlfriend lying on a warm beach somewhere.

Everytime your manager bids you well in leaving to work at an engineering firm this summer. Wish you were somewhere else.

Evertime, just wish you were somewhere else

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Sure, You could Say that

Take a few words and give them breath. Now wonder exactly how they sound feel taste on the tip of your lips. Would you really let everything around you to take on this? This? I couldn't say that sometimes I say the smartest of words, don't let it linger in my mind long enough before it comes out, but out out out it comes anyway. Out before I can even begin to think about stopping it.

You're not Ulysses.

Keep the clock running or you'll never be able to put value to action. Time gives action weight and action gives weight to time. We need that cycle, that tick tick coo-coo clock to let us know that what we're doing is actually worth something. If you can't hold onto that concept, you don't use your time. You sit, you play, you chat, you fritter time into the past, let it pass you by into another tense without even touching it. This is truly the waste.

I'll make you wish, you hadn't our time before.

I've gotta start paying attention to detail again, I'm letting it slip through my fingertips. Water water water. All details. And I let it just go on and slip through without actually giving it much thought at all. Time through action into the past. Water through my hands becomes the details I need. I have to start paying more attention to things, watching my steps, counting my sheep, or I won't get to where I have to be. I'll be spinning my wheels and burning out in the atmosphere. A bland yellow star, just waiting. Sitting. Water water water through my hands.

Am I so out of touch, to wanna let my darkness shine?

I want everyone to hear me, I want everyone to listen, to read, to comment. I don't know why. I just want to be out there on a platter. This is me, analyze me as you will. Can you even begin to understand how strange this is for some one with so many secrets. I can't tell anyone anything or my life on a platter will get exposed for the hypocricy and lies that it is. Secrets Secrets Secrets. Just stop listening, honestly, giving me the satisfaction of knowing some one actually comes to read these just fuels me on, makes me leave more filth. You can stop reading now in:




Tuesday, March 10, 2009


Today I mostly feel like playing guitar and writing music. Today I want to go and I want to see a show where people sing and people play and people show emotion and people get together. Today I mostly want to play and sing and feel and be.

Today I feel like walking out in the sun. It's nice out, we don't get the chance often, you don't get the chance often, let's go walking out in the sun. Today I feel like moving through the trees so that I may touch the branches and branches and thorns and just wish that it was summer again. Today I mostly feel like walking in the sun

Today I feel like the world understood. Today I feel like she understood. Today she'll tell me she loves the way I look. Today I'll believe her. Today she'll be more beautiful than ever. Today I'll make sure to let her know because sometimes I just don't tell her enough, let her know enough that I find her absolutely lovely absolutely beautiful absolutely and utterly breathtaking.

Yesterday I told myself I'd eat less. Today I ate more. Yesterday I said I'd work out. Today has yet to flourish. Yesterday I told her that I'd come. Today I will. Today we'll walk in the sun. Today I'll play guitar. Today I'll work out.

Tomorrow I've got the rest of my life.

I'm going to stop looking at tomorrow and let there be today.


Monday, March 9, 2009


Take up your hand and look at it the way you would a beautiful little delicate little fading flower. The viens that course your blood through it giving you feeling, giving you insight, are just the threads and folicals of the flowers life. Photosynthesis in the palm of your hand is just you grabbing another piece of nourishment in some sort of bread. Look at your hand, make it a metaphor. It's so easy you could stumble upon it almost accidentally.

Take your life, relate it to a calendar. Everything already planned out. Everything has it's placed cut and pasted into the perfectly square form so that it can lay beside another event. 

Time - A chronological list of events.

You've already got it all planned out for you because you life is a calendar. The dates are exact and continuous, there's no real guesswork here. Today you get up to go to school. You wish you could just break this cursed cycle because it's starting to eat away at you that the window of oppurtunity's closing. Today you have drama after school. You could beat your hands on the walls of the concrete prison, thrash and mutilate your own flowers. This is the fruit of your design, how could you let yourself destroy it. Unscratched walls, unscathed routine. Today you have singing lessons at seven. Talk to the man on the other side and ask him 

"How can I fix all of this continuity, how can I risk more." The man on the other side says,

"How can I fix all of this continuity, how can I rish more." Face it, there is no other side, there is only you talking to you talking to you talking to yourself. Cling onto this thought because for awhile it'll be comfy complaining to yourself, but it'll only be so long before you go insane, and you'll need to this fact to crawl back to reality.

So you want to fix all this. Today you have dance lessons after singing lessons. You scribble things down in a notepad without thinking, you just scrawl and dribble on about nothing in poetic form. Look at the clock, it's only been five minutes. Right now you're supposed to be doing homework. The schedule makes sure that right now you're supposed to be doing your homework. Today, you do your homework. It's going to be a long road back to the way you could've been if you hadn't chosen to grow up at age thirteen and become bitter by eighteen.

Today you should be asleep.