blessed are the easily amused

Thursday, August 28, 2003

Brainwave synchronizer dead. Me too. Need help.

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

I can't do it anymore. developing twitches. all the buttons! all the variables! so many things to fuck up. and I do. I just want to stay home and make a series of papier mache models of interesting people. and move. moving takes energy - i don't have time for doing jobs i suck at and which cause me unspeakable stress.

Little house on the prairie all just flies and refuse now - moving is a grand fucking relief from the bugs.

This blog is mostly an account of my days working for the Mothership, because those are the only days I find myself sitting idly in front of a computer. Waiting vulture-like for news to strike.
If only I had my super brainwave enhancing gizmo here, I could use these hours to my own advantage and possibly the entire galaxy's. I'm not kidding - my brother, the guy who has everything, actually owns this device that can stimulate different brainwave patterns and shit - you can induce deep relaxation or sort-of trance states. And he left it for me while he's tilley hatting his way around Africa. I think I could use it to induce lucid dreams. Or my secret super powers, which I would probably use for good. I may not be as morally upright as I used to be, but I'm still a Nice Person.

I think what's happening to me, and what seems to happen to a lot of people, is that my values are not theoretical anymore. They're about what I see immediately around me. I'm more likely to give a shit about my family and friends than the effect my consumer decisions have on family X in Indonesia. That's probably why the world's falling all to shit. Because people like me will go to Wal-Mart and buy sweat shop manufactured stuff for a friend's birthday and feel like we've done a really good thing. I used to care about family X. And also forget everyone's birthday. I'm motivated entirely by responses from people around me and not at all by the internal compass (acme right'n'wrong navigator).

Holy crap. I suck. Oh well.

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

does my heart earnestly long for truth, for beauty? for righteousness and realness?

um, sure, i guess. right after i enjoy this ice cold pilsner.

sorry, enlightenment - i'm booked solid trying to get richer and thinner. instead of kinder and smarter.

tonight my band is supposed to play at the fringe stage and sell heaps of CDs and enjoy golden moments of cameraderie on stage. it's also supposed to storm, donnert and blitzen, pissing down obstacles to my delightful fantasy.

when i open up my mouth and sing, a portal opens to planet real. singing is a self-directed activity - it develops its own momentum, happens for its own sake, and momentarily eclipses the frantic ego monologue.

that's why i do it. i don't suppose that knowledge makes me a genius musician. i just like it. plus, i could end up a rock and roll icon, snorting coke from the outstretched palms of supplicating boy servants.

email me at now to order your fresh copy of mayfly's heartbreaking tour de force called nymphomania. 12 bucks canadian. like our namesake you may only live for another day. why waste it not listening to our sweet, sweet voices?