Photo Op Fri...errr...Saturday

I was gonna post my blog yesterday, but then I got...well you probably know where I'm going with this, so without further ado I give you Photo Op Saturday. Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it. Oh well.

This is possibly one of my favorite pictures of myself, it was taken by Ashley Sallows of Memories for Life.

Today's Twisted Text

Government Drunk

You've had a few drinks, of the alcoholic sort, and Johnny Law thinks you're too drunk to drive a vehichle. However, you're far from running the naked mile, or taking that "not so hot" girl at the end of the bar home with you.

For example: Jeff met a few buddies at the Pub for some drinks, after three beers he announces he's going to head home. "Dude, you can't be driving now, you're government drunk," says John.

Stay tuned next week for an all new and improved "Twisted Text". Okay, so maybe it won't be improved, but it will be new!

Dada Poem

You may have noticed that I've got a penchant for surrealism and psychedelia. I find bending the mind in order to think outside of reality, a fascinating idea and experience. It's an affinity that I attribute to countless hours spent with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Salvador Dali. With that in mind, today I'm going to attempt to put together a Dada Poem.

A Dada Poem is a sort of anti-poem, popularized during the cultural movement known as Dadaism. The Dadaists rejected current art standards of the time, and were considered anti-establishment. According to Wikipedia, Dadaism began in Zurich, Switzerland during World War I and peaked from 1916 to 1922. The movement was heavily influenced by anti-war politics, and is said to have laid the ground work for many styles to come including, but not limited to: surrealism, pop art, and punk rock.

Dada poetry was born due to the efforts of Tristan Tzara, a French poet, essayist, and a founder of Dada. He devised a method of writing using the following rules:

1. Take a newspaper
2. Take a pair of scissors
3. Choose an article as long as you are planning to make your poem
4. Cut out the article
5. Then cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them in a bag
6. Shake it gently
7. Then take out the scraps one after the other in the order in which they left the bag
8. Copy conscientiously
9. The poem will be like you
10. And here you are a writer, infinitely original and endowed with a sensibility that is charming though beyond the understanding of the vulgar.

And now my poem...

Dear God...I am broken

Perspective words be forgive, these heart bigger.
Your two important troubles have the hatred, change forgiveness.
Here you love life, what lifetime can do?
How forgiveness call yourself most sounds Buddha.
Most in simple trust whole faith, whatever on and than everyday.
While it can, your spirit difficult lesson can you?
This something forgiveness, first learn yet you thing.
Could love do you get? Can that your and than love God.
In it the be earth, you the plan.
How on to put bigger trust must part it, but so is that.
It is and lesson your May has in you if your a in a it.

Remember Every Moment (part 2)

You notice something tickling your fingertips as they relax in the sand. Suddenly green grass begins invading the beach as if you were watching a time lapse photography project. The world begins to shift as land surrounds the ocean, and the briny scent that had filled your nose is gone.

A giant willow tree erupts from the earth, manhandling the freshly sodden floor, and what was once a great expanse of ocean before you is now a lazy river. Sitting in the lush grass, it smells like rain. You notice a sizeable yin yang carved deeply into the enormous trunk of the tree, and below it hangs a sign: The most inspiring route from one place to another is not always a straight line.

An outburst of sound startles you! A marching band comes sloshing down river, dressed in formal uniforms that represent every color of the rainbow: red, green, blue, purple, and yellow. The colors become a kaleidoscope through the splashing water as you sit stiffly on the river bank and observe. Upon further inspection, you notice that the band consists of your closest friends and family, some of this world and others who have moved on. Words escape your lips, but no one notices. You are nothing more than a ghost to them. Following closely behind the band is a peculiar individual perched atop what appears to be a brilliant silver and blue wing that once belonged to a Boeing 747. It’s as if he were Huck Finn navigating the Mississippi. The stench of death slowly permeates the air; spoiled fruit ravages your tongue. The figure creeps by on the makeshift raft and turns to face you; it’s like staring death straight in the eyes. RUN!

The woodland becomes a blur at full speed. Thorns tear at your skin, and glancing back you see that the man cloaked in his sinister smile has taken chase. The echoing sound of your feet thumping the ground resonates through your head, but wait…there’s something else. Are those…horns? Car horns? Without warning the grass beneath your feet becomes hot, sticky asphalt, and the timber surrounding you has been replaced with massive buckets of emission-spewing steel, barreling toward you. From behind, you feel a cold, clammy hand collapsing onto your shoulder. PANIC!

With eyes bursting open, heart palpitating, and body contorted you are thrown into reality. Your consciousness—blinded. You are awake.

Remember Every Moment (part 1)

This is a descriptive essay that I wrote this past year. I'm going to post it in two parts, today will be part 1 and tomorrow part 2 will be posted. Enjoy.

Remember Every Moment (part 1)

Your cortex is currently attempting to organize random and meaningless signals. This is only a test. Gears are turning rapidly; you can hear the far-off drone, like an insect in motion. The central imaging department is furiously working overtime—sweat saturating their brows—to find a place for every last file you have collected today. Don’t be surprised if smoke begins to sting your senses and come out of your ears. This is the result of a frenzied, nonsensical, explosion of random thoughts and ideas, which is exactly where it all started. Have you ever woken up with dirt…in your teeth?

The last thing you remember is a low roar as the cars drift by on a dimly lit street outside. The room gradually becomes darker than an ancient king’s crypt; the bed beneath you carefully caresses your aching body and reality slips away—sleep. A slow trickle of rain gently begins tapping the window at the foot of your bed. Does it make a sound?

You are on an abandoned beach. There is a slight hint of salt in your mouth; could it be from the ethereal ocean before you? Or maybe it’s the margarita this setting involuntarily makes you crave. As the tide rolls in and then retreats, it laps at your toes. A cool, soothing sensation flows throughout your body. Warmth from the sun counteracts a brisk breeze that races over the ocean; it doesn’t get much better than this.

Electric Exchange

In knowing that all Muppets are puppets, yet not all puppets get to be Muppets, you begin to understand that you should take the good, and take the bad, and then take em' both, and there you have Potawatomis performing lobotomies on the white man as he walks into a Brave New World.

And in this world there is a room in which an elephant walks on stilts made from a broom. A clown comes around eating the Great Barrier Reef, which I'll have you know, is made of 100% pure Angus beef. A breaking dancing Cowboy shoots from his broken hip and an overweight grasshopper gets assistance from a pogo-stick.

Also, I was wondering...do moon men spank their children with Orion's belt, because if they do I'd imagine it could, and would leave a cosmic welt. And further more, do frozen brains point there fingers at Slurpee machines, while Nascar racers chase monkeys in braces.

I know, I know, this makes no sense. All this time wasted, and at you...the reader's expense. Stop with your questions of who, what, when, where, and why. Cue up the N'sync...Bye, bye, bye.

Photo-Op Friday

                                      Abba-Zaba, you my only friend.