CHPTR / THREE
THE HUNGER
I am hungry. I am sitting on the bus and I am hungry. I can feel it gnawing at my insides, taunting me. I snack, but it does nothing. Occasionally a simple grazing session, like a cow at pasture, will keep my rumbly tummy at bay but not today. I would like a full meal. Something that takes a while to prepare, and a while to finish off. To say that I would be excited to clean up after myself would, unfortunately, be a tremendous lie.
I strive for a balanced diet, and often find that I go through moods where some things fill me up more than others. What will fill me up today? Which chapter? Hopefully this time I don't leave any leftovers, because despite the promise of a quick fix for some unknown future moment they will most likely waste away unfinished, left in a dark corner behind the shadow of something fresh. All of the sudden I can hear the chortle of the bus's engine over my rumbly tummy.
Rumble rumble, trip and stumble. Catch a snake and remain humble.
I have kept the gnashing and gnawing hunger at bay, but I fear the truce is only temporary and war will again ravage these lands. Now I just hope to get home and have some food.
I strive for a balanced diet, and often find that I go through moods where some things fill me up more than others. What will fill me up today? Which chapter? Hopefully this time I don't leave any leftovers, because despite the promise of a quick fix for some unknown future moment they will most likely waste away unfinished, left in a dark corner behind the shadow of something fresh. All of the sudden I can hear the chortle of the bus's engine over my rumbly tummy.
Rumble rumble, trip and stumble. Catch a snake and remain humble.
I have kept the gnashing and gnawing hunger at bay, but I fear the truce is only temporary and war will again ravage these lands. Now I just hope to get home and have some food.
bonewrenched / 03.13
CHPTR / FIVE IMAGINATION
We, as a crew, would like to think we have pretty decent imaginations.
I, as a person, would also like to think I have a pretty decent imagination. Maybe even an above-average imagination.
Or maybe not. Even with radical imaginations, we are still a finite group.
Currently NOT Accepting Crewmember Applications.
The world, as it were, is a very large place with lots and lots of people. Compared to that, the internet is an infinitely large place (anything substantially higher than a thousand is basically equal to infinity). So that means there is more imagination out there (even including shitty imagination) than we can ever hope to have. Sad mathematical fact, but marginally acceptable.
(infinity) x (shitty) >> (Crew) x (magic)
Because the collective imaginations of others will always be greater than my own, no matter how awesome it is, it will always be advantageous to play to the imagination of others rather than stretch mine to its limit. Imagine that.
So we learn how to guide the infinite collective imagination in the right direction. Without guidance, the imagination is free to roam in any direction and little credit is given to the guide itself. Too much, and the imagination is sent on a train down a unidirectional track straight to the destination of the original singular imagination, which is not nearly as exciting for the passengers. Middleground.
The infinite collective imagination is a cannon ball. You, as the gunner, can point the cannon and light the fuse but there’s no guarantee that you’ll put that 24 pound ball up the ass of the particular sailor in your sights. But it makes a big splash so the error is usually negligible.
We’re poppin’ off cannon balls all the time. Mostly poppin’ them off for fun, but sometimes it’s for serious. I popped one off at Albertson’s the other day in the canned fruit aisle. Personally, I like to pop them off and then run away before seeing where they land. More exciting that way.
I, as a person, would also like to think I have a pretty decent imagination. Maybe even an above-average imagination.
Or maybe not. Even with radical imaginations, we are still a finite group.
Currently NOT Accepting Crewmember Applications.
The world, as it were, is a very large place with lots and lots of people. Compared to that, the internet is an infinitely large place (anything substantially higher than a thousand is basically equal to infinity). So that means there is more imagination out there (even including shitty imagination) than we can ever hope to have. Sad mathematical fact, but marginally acceptable.
(infinity) x (shitty) >> (Crew) x (magic)
Because the collective imaginations of others will always be greater than my own, no matter how awesome it is, it will always be advantageous to play to the imagination of others rather than stretch mine to its limit. Imagine that.
So we learn how to guide the infinite collective imagination in the right direction. Without guidance, the imagination is free to roam in any direction and little credit is given to the guide itself. Too much, and the imagination is sent on a train down a unidirectional track straight to the destination of the original singular imagination, which is not nearly as exciting for the passengers. Middleground.
The infinite collective imagination is a cannon ball. You, as the gunner, can point the cannon and light the fuse but there’s no guarantee that you’ll put that 24 pound ball up the ass of the particular sailor in your sights. But it makes a big splash so the error is usually negligible.
We’re poppin’ off cannon balls all the time. Mostly poppin’ them off for fun, but sometimes it’s for serious. I popped one off at Albertson’s the other day in the canned fruit aisle. Personally, I like to pop them off and then run away before seeing where they land. More exciting that way.
dmatb / 04.04
CHPTR / SIX
THE FEAR
Lets start with the dark. Why are we afraid of it? Is it because we can’t see? I’m not afraid of naps. Or nightclubs. Or burying my face in a huge set of titties. I can’t see in any of these places, but that doesn’t make them scary.
But the lack of sight still plays a big role. This, of course, is due to the fact that people who can see rely on their sight to observe their surroundings. Strip us of this sensory skill, and we are fucked. It takes two legs to skip.
So it’s not the dark, nor the lack of sight; it’s the unknown. Well duh, you say, thanks for cracking the case Frank Fuckin Hardy. But why is the unknown so scary? Well it could be a big hungry bear. Or a psycho with a chainsaw. Or a batshit crazy witch trying to steal your teeth and wear your skin.
Or it could be Me.
Lesson number One: Be the Terror in the Dark.
I like to put myself in a certain scenario. This scenario is the woods, at night. There are few fears more universal than a dark unfamiliar forest. People may claim to be at home in nature, even in the dead of night, but I guarantee that every motherfucker placed in a cold dark wood will experience a raising of hair and a shrinking of balls. It’s not our fault; it’s just our nature. There ARE scary things in the night, and without the Fear we would have become a quick and easy late night snack. The Fear keeps us alive, gives us a rush. I don’t need drugs, I just need a twig to snap somewhere in the darkened wood.
But you have to come out on top of that rush. Be the Fear. Be the Terror in the Dark.
When the twig cracks – it means something else just choked on its heart because it knows you’re out there. Somewhere.
I am the psycho with the chainsaw. I am the witch with a bag of teeth. I am the bear. I will cut out your eyes and saw off your limbs and eat your spleen. I will sneak up behind you and stab you in the back with a rusty railroad spike.
Lesson number Two: It’s all in your head.
You’re not actually going to hunt other humans, or gouge their eyes, or eat their spleen.
But you’ll think about it. When you find yourself in a darkened wood, you’ll be the Terror. Being the Terror suppresses the Fear. You don’t want to extinguish the Fear – you’ll need it someday. Someday you’ll meet an actual bear, and the Fear will come back, keeping you alive. But for now, fuck the bear. He’s in the bushes, praying you don’t see him and snatch up his roaring jaws for a living room trophy.
But the lack of sight still plays a big role. This, of course, is due to the fact that people who can see rely on their sight to observe their surroundings. Strip us of this sensory skill, and we are fucked. It takes two legs to skip.
So it’s not the dark, nor the lack of sight; it’s the unknown. Well duh, you say, thanks for cracking the case Frank Fuckin Hardy. But why is the unknown so scary? Well it could be a big hungry bear. Or a psycho with a chainsaw. Or a batshit crazy witch trying to steal your teeth and wear your skin.
Or it could be Me.
Lesson number One: Be the Terror in the Dark.
I like to put myself in a certain scenario. This scenario is the woods, at night. There are few fears more universal than a dark unfamiliar forest. People may claim to be at home in nature, even in the dead of night, but I guarantee that every motherfucker placed in a cold dark wood will experience a raising of hair and a shrinking of balls. It’s not our fault; it’s just our nature. There ARE scary things in the night, and without the Fear we would have become a quick and easy late night snack. The Fear keeps us alive, gives us a rush. I don’t need drugs, I just need a twig to snap somewhere in the darkened wood.
But you have to come out on top of that rush. Be the Fear. Be the Terror in the Dark.
When the twig cracks – it means something else just choked on its heart because it knows you’re out there. Somewhere.
I am the psycho with the chainsaw. I am the witch with a bag of teeth. I am the bear. I will cut out your eyes and saw off your limbs and eat your spleen. I will sneak up behind you and stab you in the back with a rusty railroad spike.
Lesson number Two: It’s all in your head.
You’re not actually going to hunt other humans, or gouge their eyes, or eat their spleen.
But you’ll think about it. When you find yourself in a darkened wood, you’ll be the Terror. Being the Terror suppresses the Fear. You don’t want to extinguish the Fear – you’ll need it someday. Someday you’ll meet an actual bear, and the Fear will come back, keeping you alive. But for now, fuck the bear. He’s in the bushes, praying you don’t see him and snatch up his roaring jaws for a living room trophy.
dmatb / 07.20
CHPTR / ONE
THE VIG
I am the Vig. The Boys are the Vig. You, the faceless drop in the churning and stupid sea that is the Internet Machine, may very well be the Vig but it’s just too damn early to tell. No matter because you don’t know what the Vig is yet so it doesn’t make a spec of difference.
It could be bad, it could be good. I like to build things out of wood.
Oh, but who am I to preach from atop my ferocious Vig steed, casting down life lessons like the thunderbolts of Zeus? I am no one. I am only a drop, just like you. But even drops can make a splash, a ripple. Do my ripples tickle? Do you giggle at my ripples, or do you scoff? No matter because I am just a drop and it doesn’t make a spec of difference.
A penny here, a penny there, a penny for your underwear.
Maybe it will rain, and my Vig will bloom and grow great and strong! But maybe not. It is dry, will my Vig die? I will nurture it and care for it, see that it is watered and happy and has enough sun. Slowly, but surely, it will grow. This I know. It will grow tall and sturdy and bear delicious golden fruit and many will come to see and breathe the air. And I will sit in the shade of my Vig and munch on its golden fruit and you will ask me for some. Will I share?
It could be bad, it could be good. I like to build things out of wood.
Oh, but who am I to preach from atop my ferocious Vig steed, casting down life lessons like the thunderbolts of Zeus? I am no one. I am only a drop, just like you. But even drops can make a splash, a ripple. Do my ripples tickle? Do you giggle at my ripples, or do you scoff? No matter because I am just a drop and it doesn’t make a spec of difference.
A penny here, a penny there, a penny for your underwear.
Maybe it will rain, and my Vig will bloom and grow great and strong! But maybe not. It is dry, will my Vig die? I will nurture it and care for it, see that it is watered and happy and has enough sun. Slowly, but surely, it will grow. This I know. It will grow tall and sturdy and bear delicious golden fruit and many will come to see and breathe the air. And I will sit in the shade of my Vig and munch on its golden fruit and you will ask me for some. Will I share?
dmatb / 05.15