Blues, booze and shined shoes
So good :)
One of the most intimate things I’ve ever read and an explanation for my lack of church, religion and “God”…..it is us, and we are it:
“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first l…aw of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
- Aaron Freeman”
“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first l…aw of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
- Aaron Freeman”
Happy 420 world! :) Make an effort to smoke each other out
fattoday guys, it’s the least we could do for each other.
My love and I, silly as a condom covered slinky
Example 1: (spoken in a British accent)
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Me: “If a policeman came to our window right now I would just tell him to ’Feck off!’”
Jayson: “Oh but only people that are super high or British say ‘Feck off!’”
Me: “Oh how DARE you accuse me of being British. I must be high. And so I say to you good sir, ‘Feck off.’”
Jayson: “Feck off indeed.”
Me: “We’re pretty awesome ya know?”
Example 2: (spoken in a Transylvanian accent)
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Me: “What are you doing?”
Jayson: “Why I’m drAAAping you.”
Me: “Hahaha. You’re what?”
Jayson: “I’m draping you. See I drape you from behind….and from the side….I drap you from all angles.”
Me: “Oh yes. I see now. I love it when you drAAApe me. And this is an especially good draping.”
Jayson: “Yes I know. I’m quite a good drAAAper.”
Examples 3: (Jayson speaks as a wanna-be-sexy, black woman)
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Jayson: “Girl you on’t even undastand. Girl you don’t even KNOW.”
Me: *hysterical laughter as usual*
Jayson: “Girl why you laugh? You know I love yo bahdy grrrl. You lookin’ so seeeexy girl.”
Me: “I think your black woman alter-ego is going to be named Big Mama, and if you EVER try to bring her out when we’re getting it on, I’ll knee you in the balls.
Jayson: “Grrrl why you gotta be like that? You know I make you feeeeel good grrrrl.”
Me: “Don’t touch me you’re like a lady! A middle aged, black lady!”
Jayson: “Oh grrrrrl.”
Example 4: (do I love him enough to pop his ass zits?)
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I’mma let you in on a little dream I had…
Me, Jayson and some older men were standing around on the front porch of our old place in Vancouver. Apparently they were in a book club as the were discussing books (girly, teen romance novels none-the-less.)
So Jayson looked different. He was a little heavier, flubbery and greasy looking with unkempt, nappy hair. He just looked kinda gross.
Anyway. I was standing outside with them and all of the sudden he turns to me and says:
“Will you pop the zits on my ass?”
“Uuuum….—” says I.
“Please. They hurt.” Jayson says, sporting an unnatractive pouty face as he pulls his pants down.
Then I woke up.
Basically I woke up laughing my ass off and missing him more then ever.
Because I mean really, how radical is that?
Eh it was fucked.
Just so you know.
Portland aka Vancouver ended up being an epic failure.
Mostly because I was living with the BIGGEST bitch on the face of the earth, I couldn’t find work and no one omit Jayson even bothered looking for work.
Plus, they now have no food, and had to pawn their belongings just to make rent.
So I’m at it again.
A new plan this time, and I’m sure it will work out great this time.
To Eugene with my baby! :)
Starting over….
In Portland with my fantastic boyfriend and our friends! :)
Nuff said, life shall be awesome.
Starting over…
…too soon.
I wasn’t ready to be uprooted yet again.
I was just getting the hang of The Dirty again and loving all the people in my life.
But it’s time to relocate.
Where to, where to?
A Little Bit More of Innocence
“What about taking this empty cup and filling it up with a little bit more of innocence, we haven’t had enough…”
^The slightly-tweaked, but never-the-less wise words of Jason Mraz.
What happened to the days when watching and laughing at movies with friends, going for walks, playing air hockey, making up utter nonsense, driving by people and whistling at them, and rockin’ out in parking lots was fun?
It seems that people cannot have fun without being intoxicated in some way nowadays. And it’s incredibly sad…
Two days ago, for the first time in a LONG time, me and my old friend Brendon hung out. And even though we haven’t talked much lately, as soon as we got in the car together it was right back to that hilariously intelligent, freedom wantin, happy, incredible way that we get when we’re together.
We drove around.
We made fun of stupid music and rocked out to the good kind.
We climbed the cement overpass.
We told jokes.
We talked.
We caught up.
We reminisced.
We pondered ways to solve life’s problems.
We made fun of each other.
We took a random trip to Portland at 1:30 in the morning to see our friend Chloe and didn’t return until 8 a.m.
We did all this without inhaling or ingesting anything that altered our mood.
Well, except an energy drink but if I hadn’t sipped on that Monster, I possibly wouldn’t be writing this blog.
Point is, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time and I didn’t need to feel guilty, worried or sick about it the next day.
I need to start getting my priorities straight and helping people to see that life is fantastic without being under the influence.
Should be an interesting journey, cause people are swirling down the drain, and once they’re on the way down, it takes a mighty pull to get them to surface.
Appropriately titled, DOOM!
Add the word “DOOM” or phrase “of DOOM” to any other word or phrase and it automatically sounds cooler.
French fry of DOOM!
Come home it’s time for DOOM!
Time to go to the school of DOOM!
Hallelujah it’s raining men of DOOM!
Ah shit. I’m getting pulled over by a cop of DOOM!
Point made? I think so.
Let Freedom Ring
Here I go again taking risks, one with the drift.
Makin’ the climb to the higher cliff.
Looking out over the existance rockin’ my way out of this sickness.
Feelin’ fly feelin’ high under this skyyyy feelin’ the wave of the mystics.
Gotta get it over with, gonna put it back.
Gotta squeeze my life into this pack.
Polygamous like daydreaming of more then one thing.
One at a time fill my life with the fruit of something.
Forbidden peachy situation gonna make that reservation for the sun fling.
Attached to no strings gonna live the life of the freedom king.
Let freedom ring.
