Thursday 14th May 2009

the pros and cons of everything

as usual i'll tell you what i'm talking about.

i have this thing—this … this condition, if you will—one of the symptoms of which is that i am not a big-picture person. i understand things by breaking them down into bits as small as possible, and comparing these smashed-up tiny bits against what i already know. it's quite an involved process and i'll spare you the details, mostly because i don't know them. save us both some time and just label me a deductive reasoner; it's a shortcut but it'll do for our purposes.

i'm getting to the point. the above-referenced album by my uncle roger is what they call a 'concept album,' and follows a meandering—and at times, apparently aimless—path, by assumption: it models the dreams of a married middle-aged man, in real time.

under this assumption, it's no surprise that the entire album is disjointed, incomprehensible, and apparently aimless. but only when you consider the parts, independently of the whole. seriously: read the lyrics for the entire album, and you'll see what i mean. but the whole! ah, the whole. as the last track clicked into place for the first time, i was actually close to crying. actually misty-eyed. for the first time, i saw the world as the other half saw it. and yes, i'm talking about you, you bizarre opaque inductive types.

i'm still getting to the point. as opposite as my brain and this album apparently are, i love it, and cannot get enough of it. everything i am, it is not, and vice versa. maybe this is a case of opposites attract? i can't figure it out.

the point is this: i have no bloody idea what the point is; i just want you to listen to the album, and maybe you'll understand me one quantum more.


p.s. the first ninety seconds of track two. i implore you, go forth, trusting me, into the musical bliss that awaits you.


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Thursday 31st May 2007

i don't deserve my dreams

any fool with a map can see the two masses would fit together perfectly—but for the ocean between them.


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Tuesday 5th December 2006

second mondays

i now understand that a tuesday is an illusion. what we instead have is a failure of monday to cease—effectively a second monday.

this particular second monday started very early with a dream. in this particular dream i was a close personal friend of elliott smith.

elliott smith, it turns out, is a regular guy. i know this because i lived next door to him, and we were mates. he had legos on his bedroom floor, fantasy books on his shelves, an old home-built computer on the desk, a playstation under the television, outdated glasses. a card-carrying geek, if so unimaginative an epithet may be ascribed. he had a set of utterly loving parents and a cat who knew her name.

of course, elliott smith is no longer living in the strictest sense of the word, though this didn't keep him from speaking with me throughout the dream. and listen when i say that he's just like me. in fact, all throughout the dream, he didn't say a single thing that i myself wouldn't have said, were i in his position. the entire experience was eerily similar to talking to myself. i know what this is like because i do it most of the time.

i've long given up on the theory that dreams mean anything, but think about it this way: a good novel is one that lies to tell you the truth.

i'm trying to say something here, i just don't know what. it's been quite a long time since i wrote directly about a dream because it's a pretty cheap source of words, invariably flippant, ridiculous, meaningless, and meritless. it should, then, be regarded as a telling thing when it is about just such a dream that i now write, after such a long hiatus*. exactly why it is telling i leave as an exercise for the reader (hint: there are multiple solutions).

*hiatus n. period of laziness. see also: respite, suspension, you have become a boring person


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Saturday 16th April 2005

to revisit the past and other diversions

I'd like to do that thing I did a while back. that thing where I told you to ask me to post pictures of certain things, and then I did it. that thing.

it was a thing I really enjoyed. so, selfishly, let's do it again, shall we?


now then.

I might be going to a superhero party tomorrow; the difficult part of the whole thing is, obviously, I am not actually a superhero. so I'll have to make something up. it can be anything, and once again I must appeal to my fellow inter-netters for help in identifying any possible latent powers. can I be Captain Obvious, who says things like 'you are wearing a shirt' and 'my glass is made of glass' and 'oh dear I just walked in on you in the toilet'? or can I make super-use of another of my traits and qualities? I could be the supervillain Calculatinator, who can predict to within eight significant digits the weaknesses of his enemies. dressing up for that one would be hard, though. good heavens this could be fun.

I'm not really putting the onus on you though. you don't know me as well as I do. or maybe so.

[much self-censoring]

I have this theory that a person becomes the last thought a person thinks before s/he dies. and when each possible thought is someone's final thought, the universe will attain sentience, and then we're done for. but I don't fret because there are several degrees of infinities of possible thoughts, and no significant portion of them have been final thoughts yet.

[aside]


I have another theory that I have moles on my back (not a theory) and I theorize that they are the manifestation of a code latent in my dna and in order to decrypt it, I of course require huge amounts of bids on my iPod.

my wife has been watching huge amounts of alias and perhaps this has something to do with something.


it occurs to me that bodies are beautiful. this isn't a sexual thing at all, either; it's just so amazing that every atom that constitutes me was once inside a star, and now a bit cooler and more stable, the chemicals I am have risen to consciousness and can look in and see meaning and can look out and see beauty.

I need not look far. I have the love of the woman I love, who is at this moment asleep with one arm around my waist and is dreaming, eyes and arms and toes all aflutter. in the morning she won't remember but I will. someone I know recently had a dream contrasting me against lenny kravitz. the differences are vast and incisive; after all, who needs to be lenny, when I am me, here, now, stardust with her?


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Thursday 14th April 2005

metaphor

life is hard, but life is harder when

1. you have a dream about a girl named morgan with whom you were once quite taken but have not spoken to in six years and she says to you 'hi, katrina' and you say to her 'hi, steve.'

2. you wake up sitting on the floor downstairs at 4 in the morning without knowing where you are or how you got there.


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Tuesday 29th March 2005

he's only mostly dead

no he's not.

so it's been a while, for which I apologize. things have been odd lately for a variety of reasons; I needed some time to myself. for which I do not apologize. I appreciate the concern of everyone who offered it and will reward it with left-brained, factual information as is my wont. some of you have heard this verbatim, most of you have not. either you have or you haven't AND THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION.


here's the skinny: I had something akin to a seizure.

here's the thick:

I was going to the bathroom at about 21.00 sunday night (three weeks ago now) when I passed out. I don't remember feeling faint or woozy at all before that, it just happened. my wife was downstairs and heard a big thump. she called my name and I didn't answer, so she ran up to see what was going on. I was on the floor, and I was rigid and wasn't breathing. she did a few rounds of CPR to get me breathing on my own again, and after that she called for an ambulance. when she came back upstairs I had thrown up a bit but was still unconscious, and I aspirated some of it (inhaled it—very nasty). she turned me onto my side to get it out of my mouth and windpipe.

pretty soon the ambulance crew arrived and the EMTs and such took me downstairs. I was marginally reactive at this point, and though I don't remember it, I was pretty combative and confused. in the ambulance I was strapped down because I was fighting them so much. I was thrashing my head around and ended up with a chipped tooth—I probably did it to myself. I don't know why. I'm such a kind-hearted fellow.

we got to the trauma center at the hospital and they hooked me up to all kinds of wires and IVs and meter-o-grams and whatnot. at this point I was just becoming aware of what was happening; I thought wife and I had been in a car accident, or something similar. I saw her in the room so I knew she was okay but didn't know what was happening to me. the doctors/nurses asked me repeatedly whether I had taken drugs (and they asked my wife the same questions just to be sure). after they got me stabilized (about 22.00-22.30?) I got to talk with my wife and my sister Jen, who were both there.

I don't have clear memories of anything up to this point. I was exhausted from the seizure (I'm told it's basically like trying to run a marathon all at once—your body uses up ALL its energy and ALL your blood sugar, and all you want to do is collapse) and generally a little slow on the uptake, but I couldn't sleep because I had: 1) a neck brace, 2) wires emanating from my every pore, 3) an IV in both arms, and 4) a blood pressure gauge that automatically measured my BP every ninety seconds ON TOP OF one of my IVs, which hurt like hellfire and damnation. it was like this for the next three hours or so while the doctors came in and checked reflexes and things like that, and vampires in white coats stole my blood. and they made me stand up (the hardest thing I've ever done) to pee in a cup. I told them that peeing was how I got myself into this mess, but they didn't listen to me. somewhere in here I got a CT scan, which was normal. all I remember are the spinning lights.

parents in law came up at about 1:30 that morning after I hadn't slept at all (ref. above paragraph). then wife left to take them back to our house and get some clothes and toothbrush etc. for me. finally at about 4:30, they moved us into a proper room and out of the trauma department. approximately once every half hour until 9.00, someone came in to take some test or to draw some blood or to ask me if I needed anything ("NO! I JUST WANT TO SLEEP YOU VISCIOUS BASTARDS"). then we got breakfast and an EEG test which involved more wires, and (for a change of scenery) some flashing lights. everything turned out normal.

since I aspirated a bit, I've been getting to take two antibiotic pills a day since then to help prevent pneumonia. these pills are the size of soda cans, I kid you not.

I'm doing fine now. for a week I was tired and sore as I ever have been, but I'm really fine. I've been going to work and generally don't fall over or knock anything/anyone over, so the future looks bright. though I did have to pee sitting down for a while.

the diagnosis is that the passing out part was a vasovagal reflex. it happens when blood pressure drops suddenly, as occasionally happens when a human (me) loses a large amount of pee-pee (which I did). the seizure part was either an extension of the vasovagal reflex, or completely seperate, caused by a bonk on the head or spinal column on my way down. perhaps since the reaction is intended to get blood back to one's head and my head was propped up above my body, it didn't work and my brain went to plan b.

so it's not epilepsy, which is good, and it probably won't bother me again for long years, which is good. but from all I've heard it probably will happen again, which is bad. but in the future I'll remember that when I pass out, I shouldn't do so against a door. all shall be well.



work on just about everything in my life (except the boring parts) has come to a complete halt. so now you know my boring situation.

well, not altogether boring.


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Thursday 27th January 2005

vividness. fear.

this is fun, in small doses. except for the annoying side effect that I'm now wide awake and buzzing with excitement when I ought not to be.

I vividly fear it'll be some time before I fall asleep again (that's no hallucination).

all things equal, a hallucination is better than reality because it isn't participatory. what a fine line I walk.


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