My most favoritest song in all creation...

Echoes (Waters, Wright, Mason, Gilmour) 23:27

Overhead the albatross
Hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's.
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me.
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand
The best I can.

And no one called us to the land
And no one crosses there alive.
No one speaks and no one tries
No one flies around the sun....

Almost everyday you fall
Upon my waking eyes,
Inviting and inciting me
To rise.
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning.

And no one sings me lullabyes
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky....


*lyrics courtesy of
www.PINK-FLOYD-LYRICS.COM
Your Source for Pink Floyd Lyrics, Songs, and Albums

Just ordered a commission for my backpiece tattoo.
*giddy*
http://www.shodokai.com/shop/product_info.php?cPath=47&products_id=133&PHPSESSID=8393b513fd56a48c294a1173f2a7ff3c

I bought Muse - Absolution yesterday and think it's a fantastic album. Kind of a mixture of Radiohead, and Queen. Bloody lovely. A bit overly dramatic at some points, and one might say a tad redundant from song to song but I really like the style so redundancy is okay in my opinion. 

Rock the hell on - new computer being ordered today. Thank you, Daddy! Merry Christmas to me ^^

My horrorscope - sounds promising =)

In 1874, a fire broke out in an underground coalfield in western China. It burned nonstop until 2004, when firefighters finally squelched it. In the intervening 130 years, 200 millions tons of fuel went to waste, spewing out copious amounts of polluting gases. I nominate the denouement of this long running drama to serve as your personal metaphor for early 2005. In January and February, you will finally douse a smoldering inner fire that has been a poor use of your ambition. This will set the stage for a fresh start. No later than your birthday, you will ignite a new blaze that's both more efficient and more worthy of you.

Watch out, world. My phoenix is rising.

I suffered through "Van Helsing" the other night. It was begging to be MST3K'd. Then I watched "Plan 9 From Outer Space" - in comparison, a cinematic tour de force. 

I love this... from "Diary: A Novel" by Chuck (Bloody Brilliant) Palahniuk

p.62
  Peter gave her the blank canvas and said, "Paint something."
  And Misty said, "Nobody paint paints. Not anymore."
  If anybody she knew still painted at all, they used their own blood or semen. And they painted on live dogs from the animal shelter, or on molded gelatin desserts, but never on canvas.
  And Peter said, "I bet you still paint on canvas."
  "Why?" Misty said. "Because I'm retarded? Because I don't know any better?"
  And Peter said, "Just fucking paint."
  They are supposed to be above representational art. Making pretty pictures. They were supposed to learn visual sarcasm. Misty said they were paying too much tuition not to practice the techniques of effective irony. She said a pretty picture didn't teach the world anything.
  And Peter said, "We're not old enough to buy beer, what are we supposed to teach the world?" There on his back in their nest of weeds, one arm behind his head, Peter said, "All the effort in the world won't matter if you're not inspired."

then on p.64...
 
  "Plato," Peter says, and he turns his head to spit green slobber into the weeds. "Plato said: 'He who approaches the temple of the Muses without inspiration in the belief that craftsmanship alone suffices will remain a bungler and his presumptuous poetry will be obscured by the songs of the maniacs.'"

=D

Georgetown University Hospital called me this morning and my blood type is a match for my uncle. I'll be scheduling an MRI soon to make sure I have enough liver to go around ;) So, I'll keep my fingers crossed that goes okay but so far so good...

I rented "Wonderland" with Val Kilmer the other night. It was an okay, so-so movie... BUT the bonus dvd had the full length (har har) documentary about John Holmes (da x-rated niggah - sorry, momentary Beasties nod) which was absolutely fascinating. One of my favorite all time movies is "Boogie Nights" and I had no idea it paralleled Holmes' life so closely. I really knew nothing about him other than he had a big penis and starred in a bunch of old pornos I have never seen. Anyway... what a tragic guy. I won't bore you with the whole story, but I encourage you to get Wonderland, just for the documentary. Then go watch Boogie Nights because it is a much better movie.

Ok, so this photographer attended the Halloween party I had a big hand in creating. I figured, this guy is a professional photographer, gallery exhibits, nice portfolio, should be some great freakin pictures. Well, I was really goddamn disappointed when I saw the pics - all 149 of them - online just now. They SUCK! I could have gotten better shots, even as drunk and stoned and tired as I was. I am so damn pissed off. These pictures don't capture one tenth of what was going on that night. If I see this guy, this so called photographer, I am gonna kick his ass up and down the street until my foot either falls off or is shoved so far up his ass I don't want it back.

Here are four pictures I thought were passable. Not good, mind you, but better than the rest of the crap.

Jason dressed as the devil...

The voodoo shrine I created... with real chicken feets! You can buy a whole sackfull of them at the asian market. Mmmm mmmm!

The back of the Hellraiser Room - after navigating through a room packed with chains, you are confronted with Pig Head, cow tongue and other assorted yummies

I can't believe this guy didn't have a date...

I think my blood type is O...
but Im not sure
god I feel freakin ignorant.
I'm going to donate blood to the Red Cross this afternoon to check what type I am. If I am either O or B, then I am going to go ahead with some tests to see if I can be a living donor and give my uncle half my liver.
yes
Im scared

PATIENCE

http://organicparadox.com/01-hosted/brian%20dillon/

Halloween photos finally online:

http://www.charm.net/~jbouchelle/cgi-bin/slideviewer.cgi?list=halloween

Dream I woke from this morning....

I'm in the liquor store and cannot find any ciders. No Woodchuck, no Woodpecker, no Magner's.... I spend a long time walking up and down the aisles, hands pressed against the cold glass doors of the cases. Am I an alcoholic? Why do I feel such desperation? I finally settle on this strange looking stuff from Korea - rock candy malt beverage - a 40 ounce bottle wrapped in colorfully printed rice paper. I am eager to see what my friends think of this strange potable. I also grab a humongous bottle of Evian and head to the counter. I set my water and booze on the counter to get my wallet and when I look up the water is gone. I start to flip the fuck out and pacing back and forth and yelling, "Who took my water?" I get frustrated and go back to get another bottle of water but there are no more. Only small bottles of fruit flavored pseudowater. I'm knocking bottles off of shelves and screaming and throwing a godawful fit. I go back to the counter and a smartly dressed yuppy woman points a trembling finger to my wallet on the counter, fear in her eyes. I snatch it back possessively. I notice my rock candy brew is now missing. I fucking lose it. Someone is obviously fucking with me. In addition to the person workign the cash register there is now an unkempt surfer dude behind the counter. I asked him if he saw a big bottle of Evian. He gets really snooty with me and I almost feel bad when I notice he is holding my 40, damn it. I leap over the counter and start strangling him. There's my water on the floor behind the counter, too! Goddamn surfer. My grip on his neck tightens and he slaps pathetically at my forearms, tears streaming down his sandy cheeks leaving wet trails on his dirty face.
THe cashier tells me my total... I very reasonable two dollars. I release his coworker and fork over my money. Clambering back over the counter I accidentally kick the yuppy woman in the shoulder pad. I don't think I hurt her any but tears well up in her eyes, too. She looks like a well dressed cow to me with her big wet eyes and blonde hair and brown suit.
So, finally equipped with my rock candy hooch and Evian water I head off to my friend's house for....
*wakes up*
that was weird.

I think this happens to me periodically....
*zones out and becomes silent and still*

diapause \DYE-uh-pawz\ noun

: a period of physiologically enforced dormancy between periods of activity


"Diapause," from the Greek word "diapausis," meaning "pause," may have been coined by the entomologist William Wheeler in 1893. Wheeler's focus was insects, but diapause, a spontaneous period of suspended animation that seems to happen in response to adverse environmental conditions, also occurs in the development of crustaceans, snails, and other animals. Novelist Joyce Carol Oates exercised poetic license and gave the word a human application in her short story "Visitation Rights" (1988): "Her life, seemingly in shambles, ... was not ruined; ... injured perhaps, and surely stunted, but only temporarily. There had been a diapause, and that was all...."

"American Splendor"
see this movie.
do it.
do it now.

I make myself sick sometimes.

OMFG - did anyone see Jon Stewart on CNNs Crossfire? He is my new hero. Calling that feeb in the bowtie a dick on tv... priceless.
Go watch. Now. 

http://www.boingboing.net/2004/10/15/jon_stewarts_crossfi.html