Showing posts with label recorded. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recorded. Show all posts

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Hulling

Here's the link to the recording: HERE!

We're all probably just brains in mayonnaise jars.

Why a mayonnaise jar? I don't know. I'm just trying to be optimistic about the situation. I could have said we're all just brains in jars full of puppy farts. But I didn't. I went with mayonnaise because I believe in the dignity of the human spirit!

You ever think you're not a real person? You ever wonder about that?

Who or what are you going to trust to confirm your bodily presence in the universe as we currently understand it? Your brain? Ha! Haha! That's a real trust-worthy source.

One time I ate over a pound of peanuts in under an hour and the next day my BM sounded like a rock being thrown into a river. You know who came up with that idea? My brain. 

One time I thought I was the kind of person that could wear a fedora. And then bought a fedora. Once again, I've only got the ol' noodle to thank for that one.

Even if your brain does do something right, it's just gonna trade that useful information for the next worthless new shiny pile of knowledge that comes along. At one point in my life I could name all the capitals of Europe and list 196 countries in under 12 minutes. Right now all I can do is tell you the jobs of the people in the band, the Village People.
There was a Native American, a Police Officer, a Construction Worker, a Cowboy, a Biker, and an Army mans.

Thanks brain. Thanks for making that trade-off. At least you still retain your encyclopedic knowledge of late 90s, early 2000s Nickelodeon cartoon shows.

What was the name of the whiny, deadbeat, immigrant-sounding guy with the big nose and beard on Hey Arnold: Mr. Kakashka. Duh. His wife's name was Suzy. That's the kind of information that needs to be brought up at a moment's notice without being thought of in over ten years.

But the point I'm trying to make is, I figure there's like a 50/50 chance that we're actually people and we actually take dumps and make love and pet tortoises at the Zoo. And then the other option is we're brains in mayonnaise jars and we're imagining all the dumps and humps and turtle bumps.

Obviously, the truth doesn't affect anything one way or the other. You still can't go around kicking people in the face regardless of whether their ugly, kicked-in face exists or not.

I just think it's good to not take reality for granted once in a while.

Before you get a whole bunch of sand in your coin purse (your vajittle) when the world seems 'broken' somehow, that's a perfect time to think about how you might be a brain in a jar somewhere. And some guy is staring at you (the brain) and thinking about how his dog better not have thrown up on his carpet again.

Just think of the most ridiculous alternative for everything you know and can ever know and see if it doesn't help you let go.  

"Well, I secretly suspect that everyone hates me but on the other hand, I might just exist in the mind of a larva being carried by an ant out from underneath the world's largest gay pride parade."

"The weather said it was gonna be sunny but now it's partly cloudy! This day sucks but at the same time, the chances of me being the figment of the imagination of a giant boil on a sweaty man's back are just as good as me being anything else."

It's all a delusion, shape it however you want and go as deep as you have to but it probably wouldn't hurt to come up for air every now and again.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Soak it In

You ever have everything in your life be absolutely fine? That's a terrifying feeling isn't it?

When everything in your life is fine that means you have to go out and find reasons to make it not fine. You have to find challenges and danger and entertainment and the risk is your own well-being. Otherwise you'll slowly be ground to dust by the crushing weight of stagnation.

But, to be fair, the crushing weight of stagnation is warm.

Man is faced again and again with the choice between going out into the wilderness to slay a polar bear, or a grizzly bear, or a grolar bear (grizzly-polar combo bear with the deadliness of the grizzly and the post-modern fashion savvy of the polar bear) OR choosing to stay in his cave and laugh at his cave painting of a buffalo farting in the face of another buffalo stooped down to eat some grass.

On the one hand, you're mastering the elements and furthering the legacy of your species. On the other hand,

buffalo farting on another buffalo's face is pretty freaking funny. You earn at least a pat on the back for getting us that far.

I think deep down though, it's not about how many grolar bear pelts you have woven into your hair, or how many moose burgers barbecues you have on a regular year-round basis. Or even how funny your cave paintings are.

The real triumph is the pursuit itself. Making the active choice of getting up, putting on your stylish loin-cloth/ all-natural cave-man jumpsuit, and slogging through the wilderness in the somewhat blind pursuit of a beast to conquer or a voluptuous cave-wench to have your children and potentially use as beast-bait. Or maybe something even more noble than that. It doesn't matter. Just as long as you're slogging, or toiling, or striving while the little kid voice in your head whines, "I'm tiiiiired! Can we stop? When's snack time? Can I get a drink of water? Can I go to the bathroom?"

And to me, the essence of maturity and character is saying, "No! We will toil until we can toil no more! We will fight the good fight! Be it for our country, or our ideals, or in the pursuit of a delicious cheese wheel. A job must done and we will bend our selves to its demand. And in that way we will kill ourselves. Or, at the very least, we will make our selves sit out in the corner until its ready to cooperate."

And then the essence of maturity and character puts on a yachting cap, takes out a corn cob pipe and smashes a bottle of bourbon over his chest and throws it at a tank that's about to run over a beached whale. 

The tank gets drunk and passes out on the sand while the street urchins pick its tank-pants pocket.

What was I talking about?

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So...I recorded this and put it on Soundcloud. You can find me reading it at this link.

THIS LINK

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

PALOMIDES!

Recorded here: LINK

Let's do another Think of Something Interesting.

If I looked out my window right now and there was a cloud there and it vomited up a cardboard box and a thick rope made out of cinnamon flavored dental floss and then told me to climb on it, that'd be interesting.

And if I opened my window and stepped on to the cloud but didn't fall through it because the cloud contained some sort of pillowy innards, I'd be like "no ways!"

But before we could take off into the sky the cloud would have to knit me an awesome sweater out of otter fur to keep me warm during our voyage and while it's knitting the sweater I'd be like, "Cloud! This is so illegal!"

So I'd put the sweater on and he'd take me to this island full of giant ants that are constantly decomposing and their limbs fall into the sand and are eaten by the sand but then the limbs reemerge from the sand in some other spot except they disintegrate into thousands of tinier ants that are then eaten by the giant ants and there are coconut trees but instead of coconuts they have speakers on them that are playing the Beach Boy's "Good Vibrations" in Swedish!

The interesting part though is that the Swedish version of Good Vibrations sounds exactly the same as the English version except in Swedish it's talking about a man who wants to get a sleeping bag and live in a vending machine full of pretzels and spiders.

And then the cloud pulled out its own ghettoblaster and started playing all the hits in 8 BIT REMIX form! And my pixelated-self was jump-moving with joy! There were coins raining down everywhere. At the end of the night I was so 1-UP'd I thought I was going to live forever.

And I did live forever. But when we got to the last level the whole thing restarted again!

And the cloud got bored so he lured me into his cabbage patch with some old flaming Christmas ornaments. I fell asleep in his cabbage patch and when I woke up I was writing this.

That'd be kind of interesting.

Getting new running shoes for my birthday!