…this is the end.
That’s not exactly true, I don’t really regret it.
I just think after 6.5 years, I’ve probably said all I really need to say in this forum.
I’ll still keep the domain active (it’s currently be used for Google Apps if anyone wants an account)
I’ll keep the blog archived somewhere on the web, and still update it occasionally, but really just for maintenance.
If you’ve just gotta stalk me, you should follow me on FriendFeed, Twitter, Facebook, or probably best, Google Reader.
“The ancient Egyptians postulated seven souls.
Top soul, and the first to leave at the moment of death, is Ren the Secret name. This corresponds to my Director. He directs the film of your life from conception to death. The Secret Name is the title of your film. When you die, that’s where Ren came in.
Second soul, and second one off the sinking ship, is Sekem: Energy, Power. Light. The Director gives the orders, Sekem presses the right buttons.
Number three is Khu, the Guardian Angel. He, she or it is third man out…depicted as flying away across a full moon, a bird with luminous wings and head of light. sort of thing you might see on a screen in an Indian restaurant in Panama. The Khu is responsible for the subject and can be injured in his defense – but not permanently, since the first three souls are eternal. They go back to Heaven for another vessel. The four remaining souls must take their chances with the subject in the land of the dead.
Number four is Ba, the Heart, often treacherous. This is a hawk’s body with your face on it, shrunk down to the size of a fist. Many a hero has been brought down, like Samson, by a perfidious Ba.
Number five is Ka, the double, most closely associated with the subject. The Ka, which usually reaches adolescence at the time of bodily death, is the only reliable guide through the Land of the Dead to the Western Lands.
Number six is Khaibit, the Shadow, Memory, your whole past conditioning from this and other lives.
Number seven is Sekhu, the Remains.”
…so cool. Like some kind of beatnik poetic Jungian self-individuation.
…you probably won’t see why.
A friend of mine opened his wife’s underwear drawer and picked up a silk paper wrapped package. “This,” – he said – “isn’t any ordinary package.” He unwrapped the box and stared at both the silk paper and the box. “She got this the first time we went to New York , 8 or 9 years ago. She has never put it on, was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is it.” He got near the bed and placed the gift box next to the other clothing he was taking to the funeral house, his wife had just died. He turned to me and said “Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion.”
I still think those words changed my life.
Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I use crystal glasses every day. I’ll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it. I don’t save my special perfume for special occasions; I use it whenever I want to. The words ‘Someday…’ and ‘ One Day…’ are fading away from my dictionary. If it’s worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen or do it now.
I don’t know what my friend’s wife would have done if she knew she wouldn’t be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends. She might call old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I’d like to think she would go out for Chinese, her favorite food. It’s these small things that I would regret not doing, if I knew my time had come. Each day, each hour, each minute, is special. Live for today, for tomorrow is promised to no-one.
…to play with a group of guys.
Get identical copies of a Victoria Secret catalog. Start flipping through pages until you come to a page with a model or models in lingerie. Call out the letter or position of the model that’s each guys type, toss in the name of any unspeakable acts you’d commit with her if you’d like/need to add flavor. Have each guy justify his claim, group adjudication as necessary. Not really a game I guess, just a good way to kill 30 minutes or so.
Scene:
A man enters a bar, soaked from the rainstorm outside. He looks up, bedraggled, and says “One for the road, please.” The barkeep, barely looking up from washing a mug says “No good bub, we’re closed.” The bedraggled man buckles at the knee’s, tears at his hair, tilts his head back, and near screams “Don’t you know, it’s here!” Regaining his semblance of composure somewhat and straightening his posture, Mr. Bedraggled lowers his voice to dull monotone, and turns to his heretofore imaginary friend, and says “They don’t know.”
This got the barkeep’s attention.
Heard in a sarcastic comment I made to K – “You know, if you add three things, that’s exactly your life now”
I realized when she asked me how my life was different from when I was seven, that it really wasn’t. I played video games, socially even, mostly by watching others play video games. I played with expensive electronic toys. I hung out with my friends, and did the stupid things that kids do.
A New Found Glory
I’m drunk off your kiss
For another night in a row
This is becoming too routine for me
But I didn’t mean to lead you on
And it’s alright to pretend that we still talk
It’s just for show isn’t it
It’s my fault that it fell apart
Just maybe you need this
And I didn’t mean to lead you on
(chorus)
You were everything I wanted
But I just can’t finish what I started
There’s no room left here on my back
It was damaged long ago
Though you swear that you are true
I’d still pick my friends over you
My friends over you!
Please tell me everything
That you think that I should know
About all the plans you made
When I was no where to be found
And it’s all right to forget that we still talk
It’s just for fun isn’t it
It’s my fault that it fell apart
…should be public.
That is, they should be exposed to light, or rather, not hidden in darkness.
The digital temperature gauge on the BMW’s dash read -12, but from my heated rich Corinthian leather seat, I couldn’t tell.
And it was that way I was warm, and knew the ways of the warm.
And it was that way I was cold, and knew the ways of the cold.
And it was that way that I knew those in the car.
And it was that way that I knew those outside of the car.
And it was that way that I was one with all.
In the past 24 hours I’ve been fired, apologized, given thanks, showed appreciated, and hugged.
They’re worse ways to spend your time.
Consider that you’d like to reach a certain state. Reaching this state is aided by a substance. This substance costs 5 shekels per marg. .1 margs will aid you for 67.5 minutes. Hence 1 marg aids for 675 minutes or 11.25 hours. For budgeting purposes, monthly, we’ll need 160 shekels for steady aiding if we assume an average of 30 days in a month, 720 hours in a month, and that during at least half of those hours you’ll be asleep or not in need of aid, leaving us with 320 hours, or 28 margs, or ~142 shekels. The remaining 18 shekels are ear marked for the acquisition of aid substance.
…said I should.
“When we traded very small, precious pieces, of our soul for a paycheck.” Said in response to the question, “When did we become adults?”
…Version Four
For starters, we’re on a new host now. Being unemployed means cutting the fat, and running my own server became fiscally irresponsible, so we’ve moved to the awesome AstralSpace dot net for hosting. It’s run by two very talented former co-workers of mine from that place we don’t talk about anymore. Go to them for all of your hosting needs.
A new cleaner theme, and all widget’ed sidebar are here as well. Twitter and Flickr integration are back.
Great to see you all at the new digs.
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