I remember reading an article about teenagers in Austrailia licking frogs to get high. This was back when I was in junior high or high school. The idea at the time repulsed me. I Thought how stupid those kids must be. Drugs are bad!
Today I think that those kids probably have a better understanding of life than I did back then. I may not believe a prince will be forthcoming, but I'd do it for the experience anyway.
I'm drinking Smirnoff Ice. It's heavy on the tartness... little on the alcohol. I feel more bloated than drunk, but definitely not sober. The 5 second bathroom runs are a bit unwelcome. There's an episode of Star Trek Voyager on the TV that I've never seen before, but I'm enjoying typing online, drinking and listening to music more than to tear myself away and sit in front of the tube.
Carpe Diem. Yeah.
Thursday, August 15, 2002
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Conduits Short Circuit
["Conduits" storyline thoughts]
Somehow a brain is only part of the solution. I mean, we can do so much without one. Look around. Wonders abound with brainless activity. But then we build these reaching to space skyscrapers, bridges that float, and put people into the openness that has no air.
A man still stares at a boy with the eyes of a boy. It's not the brain that remembers what point in time the man is really at, it's the mirror or the expression on the face of the boy that jabs a knife into the man's ego.
So the old men have this money; an enticing situation for the young faces that only need attention. Slowly that part of the brain that was once stabbed is turning tables and subtly twisting the knife's sharp edge on the pusher. It's an unfelt pain that doesn't manifest for years.
I think one tear drop contains the entire essence of these toughts.
Somehow a brain is only part of the solution. I mean, we can do so much without one. Look around. Wonders abound with brainless activity. But then we build these reaching to space skyscrapers, bridges that float, and put people into the openness that has no air.
A man still stares at a boy with the eyes of a boy. It's not the brain that remembers what point in time the man is really at, it's the mirror or the expression on the face of the boy that jabs a knife into the man's ego.
So the old men have this money; an enticing situation for the young faces that only need attention. Slowly that part of the brain that was once stabbed is turning tables and subtly twisting the knife's sharp edge on the pusher. It's an unfelt pain that doesn't manifest for years.
I think one tear drop contains the entire essence of these toughts.
