When he was asked to dissect the Specimen, he hesitated, or felt what he believed to be a slight apprehension given his obvious position of power; standing above her white silk dress clenching a fork and knife in each hand. She had settled in only moments earlier against the wooden panel boards anticipating the consummation of her livelihood. For a moment, the Specimen squirmed and he noticed a smile on her face appear as she settled in to the ground and accepted the oncoming cutlery. She knew after this, as the Specimen, she would be forever transformed; no longer that unscathed and precious container of organ tissue and neuropaths. He, on the other hand, was merely participating and had no inclination that gravity and time were planning a coup on his conceptualization of the two forces of nature and imagination, respectively.
He acquired the tools from the Specimen's companion and knelt down. The descent was prolonged in his mind, and the Specimen didn't appear any larger at first. He blinked and was soon staring right in to the Specimen's brown eyes, and they twinkled back; she was petrified. He dug the fork into her thigh and pulled back with the knife. He worked his way up the Specimen's body, past her vagina, her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck, where he looked at the Specimens lips and noticed it quiver in confusion. He took a few bites from the fork with her meat and swallowed; she stared at his adam's apple as it ascended and descended with each quaff of the Specimen's blood stained blouse and supple flesh.
Imagine a montage of photographs, explaining a story with time-lapse, where every next frame is an irregular jump in time ahead of the frame you previously experienced. Imagine holding those frames as printed images, in your hand, and flipping through them at your own will, on your own time. It is foreseeable that you could spend the rest of your life cycling through those images but do you ever watch your favourite movie on repeat? If it cost you only thirty seconds of actual time to watch that montage or film as much as you'd like, would you indulge? Would you fear the complexities of aging in this time frame? Would you embellish the legitimacy and power of imagination within each photograph? Or would you collect only sequences of frames you particularly cherished? Would you prefer to throw them in some digital box, and be able to revisit each of those moments again? Would you cultivate a new understanding and emerge from that thirty second time frame with explosive amounts of knowledge, wisdom, understanding; previously nonexistent?
He helped the Specimen up with one hand and proceeded back to his seat, where from afar, the Specimen continually reassured herself of his proximity; as if bound and dependent. He stole glances of her profile from time to time for the rest of his life, to date. He realized that that experiment, in the lab, and that thirty seconds with the specimen, would have lasted an eternity in its own right, being frozen in his memory. Every new moment would have been another layer or sequence of photographs to add to the big box of time and space; an alter reality where the only things that exist are them and the world. It would be a physical manifestation of their bond, and their idea of the world; yesterday's souls in the world of tomorrow.
If you could understand that transformation and the weight of your brain matter increasing at a phenomenal rate after a 30 second period of mental stagnation and physical unawareness, you are propelled back into the world you were first born as a new specimen, bound by the mitosis between two hearts and the brains that power them. When you emerge, no one will know you had left. For everyone, nothing will change, but for you, it will all look different.
No one will know the wiser, because the universe is good at keeping secrets.
Are you?
2.06.2010
11.27.2009
palinbeck
A broken clock is right twice a day you say?
Well who represents that broken number?
I believe it's the talking heads and celebrity politicians that hold the worst in mind.
Who represent a minority in a society where they can shout the loudest.
Look now, they are freaking out, acting completely dilluted, trying to win the masses with doomsday rhetoric.
It's yesteryear's sway of words they try to play on you and everyone else just sits back and laughs. You're a broken clock, you're no longer functioning or serving a purpose.
Though twice a day you are right.
For those odds, I can't say it's worth giving you most second looks but I will be struck with a sensation of odd and metaphysical confusion when the day I do look up and your time is verified truth.
That is when my body will shudder and my eyes will blur in self-defeat, and I will not go alone.
We will laugh idly in confusion and watch it walk out to the end, and if they have the TIME, their will be done.
"Can you not see that we must fight for it?
Can you not see that they are thinking the same thing?
We're laughing them off but they do pose a danger.
We need to outsmart them for the better of everyone"
They are a mirror of their enemies on the opposite side of the prime meridian
They will do the same things to this side of the world.
Well who represents that broken number?
I believe it's the talking heads and celebrity politicians that hold the worst in mind.
Who represent a minority in a society where they can shout the loudest.
Look now, they are freaking out, acting completely dilluted, trying to win the masses with doomsday rhetoric.
It's yesteryear's sway of words they try to play on you and everyone else just sits back and laughs. You're a broken clock, you're no longer functioning or serving a purpose.
Though twice a day you are right.
For those odds, I can't say it's worth giving you most second looks but I will be struck with a sensation of odd and metaphysical confusion when the day I do look up and your time is verified truth.
That is when my body will shudder and my eyes will blur in self-defeat, and I will not go alone.
We will laugh idly in confusion and watch it walk out to the end, and if they have the TIME, their will be done.
"Can you not see that we must fight for it?
Can you not see that they are thinking the same thing?
We're laughing them off but they do pose a danger.
We need to outsmart them for the better of everyone"
They are a mirror of their enemies on the opposite side of the prime meridian
They will do the same things to this side of the world.
11.21.2009
swaying minds
Reading a book based on politics
is an arduous use of time
to learn the same bullshit
you can get from five minutes
of television.
I tell you nothing of what you read
is any more real
than the fantasies of
one egotist.
is an arduous use of time
to learn the same bullshit
you can get from five minutes
of television.
I tell you nothing of what you read
is any more real
than the fantasies of
one egotist.
isn't this how it started?
Worried that I might kill my dog.
Burning incense
and smoking tobacco-laced,
marijuana cigarettes.
I'm pondering nervously
about my own selfishness
to continue smoking
as this thought, I pen
to identify with a
human audience.
Now the bright irony
in the prose of this situation
is coming to my realization
and it is
in no
way
pleasant.
Burning incense
and smoking tobacco-laced,
marijuana cigarettes.
I'm pondering nervously
about my own selfishness
to continue smoking
as this thought, I pen
to identify with a
human audience.
Now the bright irony
in the prose of this situation
is coming to my realization
and it is
in no
way
pleasant.
11.09.2009
a psychologists field day
Last night I dreamt what I would define as a psychologists field day.
At first I realize I am in a wood cabin of sorts and it is shaking. Members of my family and unknown faces alike, work together to empty the space of all valuables. It is transforming into a restaurant space.
I walk outside there are soldiers flanking every direction. I walk back inside. My dad congratulates me on planning a fine victory and escape method and for bringing peace to his civilization. I have come under the assumption that our cabin is a giant prison cell being escorted by an army of 10 thousand strong, medieval soldiers and I have coordinated our daring method of survival but i cannot recall what it is despite the fact that it is a plan that is currently in execution.
Soon after I decide I have to go to the washroom. I go to the washroom. In my pants. I take off my underwear and say, "that is fucking gross, have you no dignity?", I look at the underwear, they are the pair of underwear I usually consider "lucky". They have never brought me luck.
I walk outside the cabin naked through a new exit donning ten foot hgh velvet curtains. I get lost in them exposed to immediate darkness, confusion, then immediate light, and blindness for a brief moment to reveal a dusty city street where I see Leone, my friend, selling books. One of the collection of books that stand out to me are seemingly original prints of Lord of the Rings. I notice that she is flipping through them, and answering wittily to everyone who asks if they are real with comments like "no I am just good at photoshop". These prints are real, or at least, I assume them to be real in the dream. I remember they have a distinct rough edge to the paper and all the font is itailcized and only consumes about a half of every page. The pages are not double side printed and I think this forces the books to be larger than they genuinely need to be.
Then I wake up to my alarm.
At first I realize I am in a wood cabin of sorts and it is shaking. Members of my family and unknown faces alike, work together to empty the space of all valuables. It is transforming into a restaurant space.
I walk outside there are soldiers flanking every direction. I walk back inside. My dad congratulates me on planning a fine victory and escape method and for bringing peace to his civilization. I have come under the assumption that our cabin is a giant prison cell being escorted by an army of 10 thousand strong, medieval soldiers and I have coordinated our daring method of survival but i cannot recall what it is despite the fact that it is a plan that is currently in execution.
Soon after I decide I have to go to the washroom. I go to the washroom. In my pants. I take off my underwear and say, "that is fucking gross, have you no dignity?", I look at the underwear, they are the pair of underwear I usually consider "lucky". They have never brought me luck.
I walk outside the cabin naked through a new exit donning ten foot hgh velvet curtains. I get lost in them exposed to immediate darkness, confusion, then immediate light, and blindness for a brief moment to reveal a dusty city street where I see Leone, my friend, selling books. One of the collection of books that stand out to me are seemingly original prints of Lord of the Rings. I notice that she is flipping through them, and answering wittily to everyone who asks if they are real with comments like "no I am just good at photoshop". These prints are real, or at least, I assume them to be real in the dream. I remember they have a distinct rough edge to the paper and all the font is itailcized and only consumes about a half of every page. The pages are not double side printed and I think this forces the books to be larger than they genuinely need to be.
Then I wake up to my alarm.
11.04.2009
M&Ms
A tall, thin man walks quietly along the beach, feet washed over by the rolling waves. He picks a seashell up from the ground and lifts it up to the sky where the details of the shell are lost in a silhouette around the aura of sunlight. He has created an eclipse which he stares into intensely, wondering between thoughts of priorities and lovers if he will soon go blind. The details of the shell are all but lost without the direct influence of the sun, but they reveal themselves through tiny refractions of light bouncing off the sand and into his hand as he hands the shell to an apparation of a woman who is now blissfully accepting the seashell as if it were the greatest gift she ever received. She smiles at the thin man and holds the shell to her ear. He is intrigued by this mermaid on the beach, and trusting of her, but onlookers are in wonder as they see a thin man, alone on a beach, with a seashell floating before his eyes. They wonder if he is a magician.
The mermaid and the magician walk together under the setting sun and the onlookers retreat to their homes in awe, to tell the story of what they just saw. The mermaid invites him to the ocean, to meet the King of the Sea. The magician is afflicted by this invitation for as a child, he once drowned. He asks to hold the sea shell once more. It is larger now than it has ever been before. He smiles at the mermaid who seems to have disappeared back into the ocean, where she swims away gracefully laughing and coercing the magician to swim to her.
The magician looks at the seashell and watches the ocean. He notices the ocean is on a decline, like a snowy slope in Northern Canada that he once had performed his most magnificent of illusions on. A dog watches the magician curiously as he stumbles nervously toward the mermaid in the ocean, which the dog cannot see. The dog advances closer and begins barking. The magician is afraid of dogs and begins to run toward the mermaid until the depth of the water has matched his height and he hops on the seashell, now the size of a small dingy.
Like a vessel of fear and intent, completely sentient, it carries him off to the mermaid where they meet in mid sea and kiss until the weight of their consummation forces them to the sea bed. The magician is breathing and thinks, "This is my greatest illusion yet," and the mermaid releases herself from their liplock. Suddenly he loses his breath and panicks.
The air from his lungs escape him and his fright immobilizes him. He can only see the light from the sun fading on the ocean ceiling and soon he is sinking into a tight, body sized cave. The mermaid, lands on his body and kisses him, floating back up toward the shore. He cannot chase her and with his last breaths and remaining sources of light information he can see the seashell sink gently over him as it covers the only exit to the cave.
Now the magician can breath, but he is afraid to break this containment space. He ponders for hours about whether or not he wants to be reintroduced into the seemingly deadly sea. Soon after he becomes famished, in a way he's never felt and he laughs uncontrollably, almost insanely, as he kicks off the seashell cover and it floats up back towards the sky, once again eclipsing the light. The seashell cuts in an out of the path of light like a strobe casting sporadic shadows and he sees, in slow motion, that he has grown a pair of fins.
The mermaid and the magician walk together under the setting sun and the onlookers retreat to their homes in awe, to tell the story of what they just saw. The mermaid invites him to the ocean, to meet the King of the Sea. The magician is afflicted by this invitation for as a child, he once drowned. He asks to hold the sea shell once more. It is larger now than it has ever been before. He smiles at the mermaid who seems to have disappeared back into the ocean, where she swims away gracefully laughing and coercing the magician to swim to her.
The magician looks at the seashell and watches the ocean. He notices the ocean is on a decline, like a snowy slope in Northern Canada that he once had performed his most magnificent of illusions on. A dog watches the magician curiously as he stumbles nervously toward the mermaid in the ocean, which the dog cannot see. The dog advances closer and begins barking. The magician is afraid of dogs and begins to run toward the mermaid until the depth of the water has matched his height and he hops on the seashell, now the size of a small dingy.
Like a vessel of fear and intent, completely sentient, it carries him off to the mermaid where they meet in mid sea and kiss until the weight of their consummation forces them to the sea bed. The magician is breathing and thinks, "This is my greatest illusion yet," and the mermaid releases herself from their liplock. Suddenly he loses his breath and panicks.
The air from his lungs escape him and his fright immobilizes him. He can only see the light from the sun fading on the ocean ceiling and soon he is sinking into a tight, body sized cave. The mermaid, lands on his body and kisses him, floating back up toward the shore. He cannot chase her and with his last breaths and remaining sources of light information he can see the seashell sink gently over him as it covers the only exit to the cave.
Now the magician can breath, but he is afraid to break this containment space. He ponders for hours about whether or not he wants to be reintroduced into the seemingly deadly sea. Soon after he becomes famished, in a way he's never felt and he laughs uncontrollably, almost insanely, as he kicks off the seashell cover and it floats up back towards the sky, once again eclipsing the light. The seashell cuts in an out of the path of light like a strobe casting sporadic shadows and he sees, in slow motion, that he has grown a pair of fins.
9.07.2009
Maybe I'm an ignorant Canadian
OKay!
WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE...
Obama is an elected official right? Leader of the country.
Didn't he get like 67 or 77 or some percentage?
The percentage doesn't matter (some of you may say it does)
but the matter of the fact is that the MAJORITY of people believe that Obama can lead the United States and it's citizens to a more 'prosperous' tomorrow.
Even if you disagree with that, it doesn't matter to me.
See my problem is these people, crying, CRYING on CNN
CRYING FOR FUCKS sake.
WHY?
because Obama wants to address the schools, he wants to talk to the kids, he wants them to understand politics, understand the country and grow up working hard staying in school eating vegetables and studying to become scientists of tomorrow.
BUT WAIT
there's more.
THE HATERS
the racists.
YES
RACISTS
the fear-mongers.
YES
YOU
ARE AFRAID of "socialism"
when all he wants to do, is let your kid know that life, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, is in fact hard.
instead you don't want your children to grow up understanding the context of their future?
you don't want them to see an intelligent leader, and you don't want them to what?
to learn?
Obama asking for kids opinions is wrong because children shouldn't be involved in politics?
I SAY NAY NAY!
this is essentially democracy at it's finest.
after all, you elected him to make the big decisions. You elected him based on the probability that he has YOUR best interest in mind. He loves the country, he loves your kids.
I believe he does.
He doesn't want to turn your children into socialist dogs. He's not starting a youth-army service. He's not asking you to fly planes across the ocean and bomb other countries.
He's showing compassion and giving a voice to the citizens who need it most. The children who will grow up paying for YOUR mistakes. So yeah, they need a little encouragement.
Really, it may be better if Obama was an evil Nazi, set on hypnotizing your children to emancipate themselves from the parents and devote themselves to the country. Watch those little girls of his grow up and later tell me you don't wish your kids were as startlingly intelligent and mature as them. If Obama hypnotized your kids, the whole country would be better off, because you suck at parenting.
Don't forget though, that your kids are the foundation of the country's future and if you raise them to turn a blind eye to a black man behind a podium,
you are teaching them to be bigots.
which is far worse than anything Obama will say on wednesday.
Grow up America, you're fucking it up for the rest of us.
WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE...
Obama is an elected official right? Leader of the country.
Didn't he get like 67 or 77 or some percentage?
The percentage doesn't matter (some of you may say it does)
but the matter of the fact is that the MAJORITY of people believe that Obama can lead the United States and it's citizens to a more 'prosperous' tomorrow.
Even if you disagree with that, it doesn't matter to me.
See my problem is these people, crying, CRYING on CNN
CRYING FOR FUCKS sake.
WHY?
because Obama wants to address the schools, he wants to talk to the kids, he wants them to understand politics, understand the country and grow up working hard staying in school eating vegetables and studying to become scientists of tomorrow.
BUT WAIT
there's more.
THE HATERS
the racists.
YES
RACISTS
the fear-mongers.
YES
YOU
ARE AFRAID of "socialism"
when all he wants to do, is let your kid know that life, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, is in fact hard.
instead you don't want your children to grow up understanding the context of their future?
you don't want them to see an intelligent leader, and you don't want them to what?
to learn?
Obama asking for kids opinions is wrong because children shouldn't be involved in politics?
I SAY NAY NAY!
this is essentially democracy at it's finest.
after all, you elected him to make the big decisions. You elected him based on the probability that he has YOUR best interest in mind. He loves the country, he loves your kids.
I believe he does.
He doesn't want to turn your children into socialist dogs. He's not starting a youth-army service. He's not asking you to fly planes across the ocean and bomb other countries.
He's showing compassion and giving a voice to the citizens who need it most. The children who will grow up paying for YOUR mistakes. So yeah, they need a little encouragement.
Really, it may be better if Obama was an evil Nazi, set on hypnotizing your children to emancipate themselves from the parents and devote themselves to the country. Watch those little girls of his grow up and later tell me you don't wish your kids were as startlingly intelligent and mature as them. If Obama hypnotized your kids, the whole country would be better off, because you suck at parenting.
Don't forget though, that your kids are the foundation of the country's future and if you raise them to turn a blind eye to a black man behind a podium,
you are teaching them to be bigots.
which is far worse than anything Obama will say on wednesday.
Grow up America, you're fucking it up for the rest of us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
