Orisons unto Morpheus OR Control freak continues to try and tell his subconscious what to do

Let me dream this night.
Let this night's dream be an odyssey.
Let me live an entire life in a single night, and all the while, let me know that it is a dream.
Let me face challenges, but when the journey takes a turn for the terrifying, I will not be terrified, because I'll remember it is just a dream
Let me overcome my obstacles and let me surprise myself.
Let me fly.
Let me dip my hands in the twilight and blend color and light into Van Gogh's Starry night.
Let me resume my quest, despite knowing it is just a dream.
Let me face down the armies.
Let me rebuild villages.
Let me befriend the dragon and free the captives.
Let me be strong and brave and bold.
Let me then grow old and wise.
Let me whisper what wisdom I've gleaned into the endless void, in hopes it may reach someone in need.
Let me do all of this, knowing that it is just a dream.
Let me face my end with warmth and joy, knowing that though this dream is ended, another will soon enough begin.
Let me embrace my dream's ending without fear and without remorse, knowing it is just a dream.
And in my final moment, before I am my waking self once more,
Let me glimpse myself as I am, and as who I have always been.

Recycling our last fight OR A reason to Dada

What if we changed the conversation?
Not the words, just the order.
What if we gathered up all those curses and slurs that poured out our mouths, placed them upon a blank surface, and then rearranged them together?
Could we change that conversation?
Could we change it enough - enough so that we don't walk away hating each other?
Hating ourselves ...
How many different combinations could we make?
How many would it take?
Words like shame, disappointment, betrayed, coward, monster - in what order would they need to fall, to sting any less?

A piece of dada OR a not-the-mama

Vengeance recompense kindness
   substituted gratitude
Farewell yields
Wicked that feelings heart yacht
Words awaiting power
                                    humanity
                                                        ll
                                                   we
                                                re
                                             fa
Heaven's unknown
the signal gave at now
expand a
And his good the
put punish said
have the me                  to been the signal
these now instantly
sea only the                   the              the all
                            out God
this he of to
and if to
                      to I                   to and
                                                           as

“And now,' said the unknown, 'farewell kindness, humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that expand the heart! I have been heaven's substitute to recompense the good - now the god of vengeance yields to me his power to punish the wicked!”
At these words he gave a signal, and, as if only awaiting this signal, the yacht instantly put out to sea.― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

The not an apology OR Our regularly scheduled programming

So the entire reason I did this, was so I'd have a designated place where I could practice the discipline of "don't break the chain."
3 days ago I broke the chain. A 34 day long chain.
Too bad, so mad, but I had to break it.
Because I have a lifestyles that requires I put all things on hold to focus on 1 thing for a patch of time. Almost always to make money to live on. And if an audition or deadline pop up in the middle of said patch: sorry I missed your birthday :-S
I ran into one such patch, and I needed to recover.
Regrets, I have them: I wanted to keep that chain going strong!
... but now that I've stepped away from it, I also wanted to address something about the chain, or rather this blog.
I can keep a journal.
I have so many of them.
Some for random thoughts, some for notes, some for therapy, some for memory, some for dreams, and some that seem only suited for attracting every kind of liquid stain in my life.
So why an online blog?
Because it has a "Publish" button.
And until that button is pressed, the entry does not exist.
So I shall keep writing, and I'll keep publishing, and hopefully I'll sift through enough brain mud and emerge with useful gems.
Or maybe it'll just remain a place where I am bound by responsibility to my own self to stick to it.
Write one word, then the next, and so on. Until the thought is finished and I reach an end.
This is not my A-material, it is mostly first drafts, and it doesn't always sound like a person is writing it.
And the punctuation! It. Is. A. Nightmare.
Regardless: I took a break. It was needed. Now we get back to our forging.

Witnessed OR Don't hold your breath

And it was upon this special night when our hero looked up.
Or was it down? Hard to tell when one is in a cave.
Was he looking up at the moon, or down at the moon's reflection?
For now, let us say our hero looked out.
At first he did not see, not while there was so much noise still in his ear.
The waters lapping on the stone walls, the stalactites crying into the pool below, or the winds from without moaning their way through the channels within.
But then, as if all at once, all sound ceased.
Not even his own air was heard.
One held breath, and it was done. Or had it started?
Regardless, only a single sound was heard:
One gentle beat of the universe.
The one inside of him, inside of us.
The first sound we learn to live with.
His heart, and the eternal pulse, were in sync.
And the moon, no longer a moon, was no longer shining, it was seeing.
A lidless eye. An observer. A witness.
Witness to a breathless hero.
He looked down at infinity.
Or was infinity looking up at him?
Hard to tell.
We would ask him, but they're still staring in and out.
And a moment in eternity, is still an eternity ...

Sleeping has become a chore OR Pass the Sunny D!

It was dark when I went to bed, it was still dark when I woke up.
And since the days are getting shorter this either means I slept for 9 hours, or just one.
I'm not worried about running out of time, though.
Because time isn't real.
We just made it up so we'd have an excuse to bring our phones in to class today.
Don't tell teacher.

Grey matter gardening OR Plant your dream garden: today!

Tonight, when you dream, plant a seed.
Before you plant this seed, whisper to it. Hum a tune and water it with coffee.
When you wake, you will not remember any dream you had.
Until that first cup of coffee.
Then, don't be surprised if you hear yourself whisper, and begin to hum a tune.

Yet even FURTHER controversy OR 'nother 'berta boy talkin

I'm gonna say something that is gonna pi$$ some people off.
Friends, neighbors, Canadians near and far.
But I have to say it, because it is my truth ...
And as I walked last night in the late evening chill, the fresh fallen powder beneath my feet, with crystalline flakes descending from above - I was reminded of that truth.
That I really do
love the snow.
Truly.
More playful than the rain, less moody than smog, not as punishing as wind, and not nearly as repetitive as thunder.
Yes, it is cold. I grant you.
But if it wasn't I my never come in doors.
I'd get lost each night in the flirtatious dance of light and color; between moonlit sky and snowy plain.
I should walk till spring, and risk being auspiciously content for the whole of the season.
Better to keep it cold, otherwise, I'll never seek out heaven again.

Strong opinions on salad OR Procrastination used to look a lot cooler

I'd have to say one of the biggest game changers, was when I learned you could put cheese on a salad and it's still a salad.
Had I known this, I might have been chowing down on spinach and arugula an entire decade sooner than I have been. Just throw on some bocconcini pearls with baby tomatoes and drizzle the oil & vinegar - I'll offer up zero complaints.
Hell, I may even enjoy it.
Now, I don't go so far as the taco salad - which at that point, isn't it just a less put together taco. A taco in crisis - if you will. I mean, who are these calorie counters fooling?
And the amount of dressing I see poured on a caesar salad - should I call a life guard? Are you at risk of drowning?
Do us all a favor and serve it in a glass with a straw, you can keep some sprigs of green as garnish, just to keep up appearances ... and I think I understand now why the cocktail is called a Caesar.
Was it just an overdressed salad? Do people ordering it think they're drinking a salad?!
What a world ...
What was the question?
Oh right, what is my screenplay about ...?

Control freak pans his next dream OR Not even a flying dream ...

Tonight, I will dream that you and I sit at an impossible diner.
The window beside our table will look out on the vastness of space. The sars seem to be moving around us, or maybe the dining room revolves? Either way, it is glorious and majestic and I won't give it a second glance.
I'll be too busy looking at you.
Tonight, you are going to explain it all.
Everything I needed to know, but never knew to ask.
Sometimes sing.
Sometimes it'll even sound good.
You'll smack me for that tease.
You'll look.
You'll laugh.
I'll watch and wonder.
You'll hint at a future that may never happen; I'll ask about a past we never saw.
You'll sigh. I'll melt
I'll try to say something slick, but the dog headed space diner server will be wanting our order.
I'll struggle because I won't have looked at the menu and reading anything is impossible in dreams and is this a dream and yes brown toast will be fine - more candy flavored coffee when you get the chance.
Once left alone you'll remind me of the view.
I'll say "you mean you?"
Another gentle smack, but you'll smile despite yourself, and direct my gaze to an ever expanding universe.
It will be big and small, and everyone I've thought on lately, will be on the round surfaces of passing planets. They'll either wave in recognition, or ignore me.
Which does what will depend on what each person represents to my subconscious.I'll feel a sudden panic and ask you when we have to go back.
You'll say we're already there, and so I shouldn't worry.
You'll take my hand and trace a letter on this inside of my wrist.
You'll say it's for luck.
That when I wake, I'll remember it for an instant before forgetting.
And that it's okay to forge, because if we didn't forget, we couldn't remember.
I don't need remember.
I don't need to worry.
I just need to wake up.
What a shame: I really could've used another cup of candy flavored coffee ...

You will never know how tightly I can hold a grudge OR I have deleted so many F@#$s

I wrote a tirade at you, but you will never read it.
I erased it.
Like winds over desert, or waves on the shore.
Later I may wish to re-raise my objections, regarding the harms you have caused me; though you may very well be ignorant of any harms on your part-
... this night: let it be done.
I shoot the bullet into the fire.
I whisper into the void.
I forego all debts and let the coins fall wheresoever they may.
Your skeletons are gone from my closet, do not look for them there.
By my own admission, I should not have held them so long as I did
...
But, I can no longer keep them.
Let it be done.
Not only for myself, but for all those in need of a chapter to end.
Let one end, that another may begin.
I would like to begin again.
So I will.
So good night.
So good morning
and so good bye.
When next we meet, we will be strangers once more.

Another game to play with yourself (SFW) OR you can always pass GO

New game: Just a roll of the dice!

For this you just need a pair of six sided dice.
Right before you leave the house - and do I mean right before; this should be the last thing you do before you leave to face the outside world - give the dice a roll.
Look at the result and, no matter what the result is: celebrate!
That number is exactly the one you wanted to roll!
You won.
Congrats.
Enjoy your day!

You win by playing.
You lose by overthinking.

Venting OR I didn't vote the cannibal into office, so stop asking me to feed him

I will not feed my neighbors to you.
In this, I remain inflexible.
So stop asking for them. You rotund varlet.
You may claim, no such request has been made, by you or by your supporters.
A sign of either your deception or your ignorance: the latter proving you a terrible leader and the former revealing you inhuman. You ignominious wretch.
You ask me to feed you the sick, when you rollback medical care. You would then bring in a system that only the healthy could hope to afford, giving you feast over generations of sick and the dying to come. Such high gluttony from such a low creature.
You would ask me to give you the heads of educators and providers; I'm not certain if you do this out envy or spite, regardless you're petulant tantrum is noted. You shameful cad.
You would insist I allow you trample over skulls of the most vulnerable of my community: children. Children with special needs, whom you most certainly despise - without question you despise them. For you to successfully deny it would require a charisma your porcine visage just could not sell. You empty gutless thing.
The sick, the ignorant, the vulnerable and of course the poor.
Yes.
You would take them into your gaping maw, also - if only to suck out the marrow from their malnourished frames.
Stop asking.
I will not hand them to you.
And I will not let you say, you have no intent of taking them, because you have made these intentions perfectly clear. You need to be opposed, wrestled, barred before you'll even give pause in your pursuit.
You ask me to let you envelope the whole of my city, when you rob us of our representatives.
You would eat us, like some hungry troll of a Grimm's tale.
I would have you stay hungry.
I would have you bawl for all of time and see no relief, if it meant I could deny you your intended meal.
Eventually your whines and squeals should grate on me, and your supporters would insist I give you just one vulnerable person to eat.
And like a Greek hero, I should offer you a deal: you may have my neighbor, only if I choose your appetizer.
So hungry you are - you should accept the bargain.
And I should be glad to elaborate: that you may eat my neighbor, only after you've eaten your own stomach.

The ongoing adventures of a kid at heart OR why am I unsupervised?

A classy reception staffed by a team of identically dressed servers.
Servers carrying trays of drinks and platters of food.
Servers wearing black plants, black ties, black vests - all maintaining an atmosphere of dignity and poise.
Amongst the wait staff stands a bearded man, wearing a suit and tie.
He holds a clipboard & a pen. He does this, while instructing the servers to pickup and drop off various things.
He tells them where to walk and where to stop.
He offers phrases like "Well done," "Faster please," and "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed"
He does all of this with an air of authority and confidence.
Servers, in turn, do what he says.
...the  fools!
What foolish foolish fools they all are!
None of them know who this seemingly adult person truly is.
The suit, the beard, the clipboard, even the pen are all part of a clever ruse.
In all actuality, the grown adult telling them what to do is not an adult at all: he's a kid!
A snot nosed kid with with no business being anywhere near responsibility or classy receptions like this one!
A kid was overseeing this high class party of cheese sculptures and champagne flutes!
A kid was ordering around an army of serving staff, who had no business being ordered around by a kid!
Oh if they only knew; how shocked would they be?!
Though, they are not the first ones to be deceived - the charade had been playing out for some time.
For decades the kid, definitely not an adult, had been pulling off this ultimate prank on the whole world!
His plan was simple:
Step 1. Infiltrate the world of salad eating, job working, line waiting, tax filing, body aching adults.
Step 2. Wait.
Step 3. Reveal disguise!
Step 4. Buy a dragon (obviously).

Though his daring plan was full of genius and grit, it did have its pitfalls.
Since he was only pretending to be a responsible adult, the kid had to practice constant vigilance!
For if anyone ever suspected he was only a make believe grown up adult human capable of handling grown up human responsibilities: the prank would fall apart.
Then he would be the one laughed at and called a foolish foolish fool.
Fortunately, while pretending to be a University student: he had mastered the art of pretending to know what you're taking about.
So tonight would not be the night of his grand reveal.
... unless ... no.
Oh, no.
The time!
It was well past his bed time and sleepy time junction was drawing ever ... near ...
The kid playing an adult was in a real pickle of a jam if he couldn't find a way to keep the tucker train from taking him to dreamland!
This was a grownup party, so all the soda was diet!
he'd never get enough sugar to keep him up!
There was only one way, and the kid dreaded the thought of it.
The only way he'd be able to stay up past bedtime, would be to drink *shudder* coffee.
Coffee ... tastes ... gross!
Oh the pickle! Oh the jam!
Whatever will an adult, who's really a kid in disguise, do?!
Find out next time on The ongoing adventures of a kid at heart!

One day "today" will be "that day" OR A hurt to heal from

There are hurts that you cannot wait to heal from. You acknowledge it, you register the level of pain. You may even cry out.
But one clear thought you must allow yourself to have is this: one day this is going to feel so much better.
And it will. It does. Trust that it does.
"When?" I hear you ask in frustration.
When however long it takes to heal, has passed. In time.
It just will.
Today, I know this to be true.
Because today I managed to pull that crank-nasty, niff-retching, sneak-slipping, garbage feeling, rud-musty, doggammed sliver our from under my fingernail!
And my life is made anew!!!

Why your bed always feels so very far away OR Curse you Niff-retcher!

Another adult monster: The Niff-Retcher.

If you were to see the Niff-retcher, you might mistaken it for a bizarrely designed brick laying machine.
But be not mistaken. This is an adult monster and it is keeping you from your comfy mattress!
This creature is a giant head with a long tube for a nose. The nose is a mix between an elephant's trunk and a vacuum cleaner hose. It does not suck up oxygen, but time.
It inhales precious minutes and seconds from you, as you are near your destination at the end of a long day - when you just want to collapse on your bed or sit in your comfy chair.
But no matter how many steps your tired legs may take, and how quickly the seconds seem to fly by, you will not reach your destination any time soon.
For each precious moment that would bring you one step closer to your sweet relief - now devoured by the Niff-retcher- is converted into one step worth of ground! Ground that is vomited out from its impossibly large mouth, permanently set in a wide mocking grin, and placed on your intended route home.
All performed by this diabolical fiend... NIFF-RETCHER!

How to beat it:
A Niff-retcher feeds only on small increments of time, otherwise its tube gets clogged.
So, in order to stop up it's hose: one must fill a minute or a second with an hours worth of weight, thought and care.
If you find yourself eagerly counting the seconds before reaching your destination; try reflecting, instead, on the heavy impact that these seemingly little moments have on your life overall. Appreciate them for more than a moment in between life. See them as a part of life.
This is life.
With any luck, these few moments of protracted perspective will choke the annoying vermin, long enough for you to escape.
Also: listening to modern music helps, as Niff-retchers have notoriously snobbish views on anything composed after the baroque period.

Sleep well, weary traveler.

On wells, lamps and stars OR What I really want for christmas

I wish I was a better dancer.
I wish I was fluent in at least one more language.
I wish I had less hair on my body and more on my head.
I wish my arms didn't seem genetically opposed to building muscle.
I wish I only had to eat for fun, because sometimes it is a chore to feed myself for necessity.
I wish living wasn't so expensive.
I wish dying wasn't so expected.
I wish I could fly.
I wish I could trade every one of these wishes for just this one: to a source of comfort for every friend that ever was in need. Because I am tired of coming up short on answers, when asked: "why is the world so heavy? Why do I have to carry it?"
I just sit with the discomfort of that question. Hating every piece of trite I would like to say, but don't. Not for fear of being wrong. Worse. For fear of being right: that the struggle is the gig. That the burden is the gift.
I wish, if I only had one wish, that I could ease the pain of every friend in need.
And I'm not sure what that looks like.
If I had two wishes, it would be that and flying. I really want to know what clouds feels like.

Is this a flirting? OR classic absurdist pick up lines

I don't know if it's you, the alcohol, or the existential dread resulting from an ever expanding universe - not acting in opposition to, but entirely indifferently towards our experiences in this universe - but I'd really love to stare into the void with you.

Check YAY or NAY

A hero's burden OR Why my right hand?! WHY!?

I recently watched a television show where the protagonist's arm is popped - the official medical term - during a fight. He proceeds to fight off his opponent one armed, until they have to pause action to trade verbal barbs and quips - the truest test of a warrior spirit is the ability to throw shade.
Before the fisticuffs resume, our protagonist pops his popped arm back into place - the ol' poppity-pop physicians call it.
Where you or I would simply vomit and go into a coma, this mighty hero continued the fight.
I bring this up, because I managed to catch a sliver underneath my finger nail today, only to keep working as though I was completely fine. I then proceeded to type out this post.
We are so alike he and I.
Except TV guy didn't then go type out a blog entry afterwards.
So *scoff* who's the badass now?

*The sliver is still under my nail because it hurts too much to take out and I keep squinting and whimpering through the discomfort. Please make it stop PLEASE!!!!!

A commercial I'd love to audition for OR Look forward to my kickstarter!

INT DAY.
A living room on a sound stage. Neatly dressed, and nothing really wrong with it, but clearly a living room for an infomercial.
NARRATOR: Has this ever happened to you?
NOT-A-REAL-PERSON, an early 30 something, enters a living room. Then painfully stubs their toe on a coffee table.

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON: (Containing their howls of pain) Shhhhhhooooooo-hooo ... boy ...

With their outrage at the injustice this universe continues to bring, successfully contained, NOT-A-REAL-PERSON takes two steps,
then promptly explodes. It is sudden and violent. Only shoes and scorched carpet remains of the human who stood there but a moment ago.

NARRATOR: Sounds like someone should have screamed into the void!

INSERT still image of a Black hole sucking up light, matter and hope.

NARRATOR: What's that? The dark recesses of space not part of your daily commute? Well I guess you're plumb out of luck, aren't you?

CUT back to living room with smoldering remains. Small fires have appeared.

NARRATOR: Haha! Just kidding! We've got you covered.

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON is magically returned from their untimely death and all previous destruction is wiped clean as though nothing happened.
But NOT-A-REAL-PERSON has seen beyond the pale; their eyes are set in a permanent cold yet distant stare.

NARRATOR: Introducing the blow hard!

A bizarre blowhorn with a jug in the end transports itself into NOT-A-REAL-PERSON'S hands. This does not shock them though. Nothing can shock them anymore...

NARRATOR: Whether from a stubbed toe, a long day at the office factory, or your favorite show not getting renewed: simply let the rage out into the Blowhard!

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON wails into the device.

NARRATOR: Oops, don't forget that mute button.

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON'S screams are suddenly voiceless. We no longer hear their howls of terror from witnessing that which await us all after death - an impossible city of shadows filled with nightmares and pain.

NARRATOR: Continue screaming until the bottle is full or your give way to exhaustion, whichever comes first.

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON continues for an uncomfortable amount of time.

NARRATOR: Look at 'em go!

NOT-A-REAL-PERSON is not stopping. They have yet to blink, let alone take a breath. Is this even possible? NOT-A-REAL-PERSON collapses.

NARRATOR: You tell em! After you're finished venting all your frustration, simply remove the Blow Jar from the Blow Hard.
Then, carefully, throw it away.
It's now someone else's problem.

Slow zoom into the wide open eyes of the unresponsive NOT-A-REAL-PERSON.

NARRATOR: Please consult a doctor before putting your lips on anything, side effects may include: laryngitis, a collapsed lung, blood shot eye, less passionate lovemaking, and ringing in ears. Jars are not made from recycled material, throwing them out is adding to the carbon footprint, we did this deliberately because we hate the world and everyone in it so guess who we voted for in the last provincial election hahaha jay kay but seriously though follow us on instagram @scottdontgotthegram. By hearing or seeing any or all of this ad you owe us a kiss. C'thulu 2023.