Welcome to The Pub At the End of the Universe.

[songsfortheotherkind]

[songsfortheotherkind]

Posted by CurtisW (here)
Hey Songsy,

Here's a silly little thing I wrote a few years back. I hope it gives you a smile and a tickle....

The perfect poem blooms like a rose,
then bowls 300,
all while cracking a walnut
in its gleaming white teeth.
It drinks only caffeinated beverages,
eats Applejax three meals a day
without brushing.
It never washes, yet smells of sun-dried linen.
The perfect poem finds missing persons by reading the seeds
of a pickle, while whistling the opening sequence
to Twin Peaks.
It collects Bavarian beer steins.
It is liked
by children
and animals.
The perfect poem invites you inside,
offers you its very own easy chair,
butters you up a Corn Toasty, and
asks for permission to bed your wife.
It borrows your pen, fires off a suggestion
for a tastier cream cheese,
which it presents to you
like a prescription.
When the perfect poem is done
it darts off into the night,
leaving fleshy, cuddlesome images
in its wake,
followed by a vague feeling of Christmastime,
then the taste of cherry pie.

It never washes, yet smells of sun-dried linen.

*grins at you in delight*

Your poetry is nommy and it mentions pie *and* Twin Peaks. So much good tickling.

[songsfortheotherkind]

Posted by CurtisW (here)
Have you ever read a guy called Richard Brautigan? I read one of his poems in the Outlaw Bible of American Poetry and it blew my mind. He's a lot like Buk, but totally with his own style. If you haven't read any of his stuff, google him and read a few things of his and see what you think.

So I went and looked and some of it was truly wonderful and some made me laugh, which was unexpected.

"The Necessity of Appearing in Your Own Face"

There are days when that is the last place
in the world where you want to be but you
have to be there, like a movie, because it
features you.

And now, because you are in Scotland, the home of the great artist William McGonnagal himself-

and because one of my nicknames is Tish and that's all about the evil within me-

and because I wanted to return the favour of poetry to a true aficionado,

here's a gem from William.

Beautiful Rothesay

Beautiful Rothesay, your scenery is most grand,
You cannot be surpassed in fair Scotland.
Tis healthy for holiday makers, to go there,
For the benefit of their health, by inhaling the pure air

And to hear the innocent birds, on a fine Summer day,
Carolling their sweet songs, so lively and gay,
Therefore, holiday makers, be advised by me,
And visit beautiful Rothesay, by the side of the Sea.

Then sweet Jessie, let us go,
To Scotland’s garden of Eden O!
And spend the lovely Summer day,
In the beautiful village of Rothesay.

There you can see the ships, passing to and fro,
Which will drive away dull care, and woe,
And, the heavens breath smells wooingly there,
Therefore, let’s away dear Jessie, to inhale the balmy air.

The mansions, there, are most beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the trees, and shrubberies, green.
Therefore, we will feel happy and gay,
Walking hand in hand, together the live long day.

Along the beautiful walks with our hearts fu’ cheerie,
My dear love! Until we grow weary.
Then, return home at night, with our spirits light and gay,
After viewing the beautiful scenery of Rothesay.


let the pillow fight ensue!!

(for those in awe of William's great talent for abysmal poetry, read on! There's 200 more where that came from! http://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/ )

[Mike]

Songs, i recall you saying somewhere that you wanted to *get back* to writing novels? what do you call post 2900? my God, i want to respond but i have no idea where to start!

first off, i just noticed that there's 62 guests on this thread. is that some sort of mistake? last night there was something like 50, and i just assumed that there was some sort of glitch in the system. though i'd like to believe that this had something to do with the miraculous unveiling of a 3yr old Chinaski, that theory is dubious at best. but seriously, i do have a question: who the f#ck are these people? and what do they want? i mean, i know how wonderfully charming and funny and gobsmackingly smart we all are, but the interest seems a little excessive and it has me scratching my chin a little.

Songs, was your first love's name really Gypsy? what i mean is, was that really his God-given name? man, that's amazing. i don't know if i believe it. if you tell us he did sideshows at carnivals with the elephant man and the bearded lady of Geneva i'm quitting the forum immediately. swear to God.

i had so many impressions and thoughts and ideas for things i'd like to say in response to many of the cool n interesting things you brought up, but i'm half in the bag at the moment and just about to hit the town (as they say) with a friend of mine who is visiting from California, and i don't feel i can assign your thoughtful post the gravity is deserves at the moment; so i will wait till tmrrw to respond with a proper effort.

sound good? till then..........

¤=[Post Update]=¤

ok, now there's only 14 guests. what the hell is goin on? any theories, pubbers?

[songsfortheotherkind]

Posted by Chinaski (here)
Songs, i recall you saying somewhere that you wanted to *get back* to writing novels? what do you call post 2900? my God, i want to respond but i have no idea where to start!

*laughing*

That's me on a mild day. I figure if I get it all down in one hit while it's all swirling around in my mind, then I'll at least have the bones of it to work with later. Plus, it looks bigger than it is because I used pictures. And if I have to be absent for any period of time, there's plenty of stuff there to play with.

first off, i just noticed that there's 62 guests on this thread. is that some sort of mistake? last night there was something like 50, and i just assumed that there was some sort of glitch in the system. though i'd like to believe that this had something to do with the miraculous unveiling of a 3yr old Chinaski, that theory is dubious at best. but seriously, i do have a question: who the f#ck are these people? and what do they want? i mean, i know how wonderfully charming and funny and gobsmackingly smart we all are, but the interest seems a little excessive and it has me scratching my chin a little.

When I came on here earlier there were 50 something, now there's stuff all. We're an anomoly in a sea of fear p0rn and tedium that is only occasionally lit by flashes of insight. Here, there are many flashes- I for one right now am sitting at the computer utterly naked and covered in magnesium oil, waiting for it to absorb into my skin- and then there are flashes of an Otherkind nature, so we're bound to be interesting. As Calz so eloquently put it, we're the threadfortheotherkind and it's pretty darn spiffy. They come, they observe, their brains melt, they leave! It's all working beautifully.

Songs, was your first love's name really Gypsy? what i mean is, was that really his God-given name? man, that's amazing. i don't know if i believe it. if you tell us he did sideshows at carnivals with the elephant man and the bearded lady of Geneva i'm quitting the forum immediately. swear to God.

*laughing* His birth name was not Gypsy, it was his tag name and he'd gone by it so long that he never answered to his birth name. He got his name legally changed to Gypsy the year I met him. I met him through another friend, Chico (and that *was* his real name, named after the Marx Brother) when they were living in a halfway house for juveniles just released from adolescent prison. Both of them were in there for drug related offenses and this was the halfway house I've previously written about regarding living in the wardrobe of their room and sneaking out at night. Fear not- Gypsy did not work in carnivals so you will not have to leave the forum.

i had so many impressions and thoughts and ideas for things i'd like to say in response to many of the cool n interesting things you brought up, but i'm half in the bag at the moment and just about to hit the town (as they say) with a friend of mine who is visiting from California, and i don't feel i can assign your thoughtful post the gravity is deserves at the moment; so i will wait till tmrrw to respond with a proper effort.

Splendid. Fabbo! Hurrah and hope you have an awesome night. :D

¤=[Post Update]=¤
ok, now there's only 14 guests. what the hell is goin on? any theories, pubbers?

they come, they read, their brains melt, they leave... ?

[Borden]

Why ... there's no-one else here, Mr. Torrance, sir. You are the caretaker. You've ... always been the caretaker.

[songsfortheotherkind]

Posted by Borden (here)
Why ... there's no-one else here, Mr. Torrance, sir. You are the caretaker. You've ... always been the caretaker.

lol. so much lol.

[songsfortheotherkind]

That went so well! Tonight Triffid met the woman who is becoming one of my closest friends. The point of the meeting was to see if they clicked enough for Triffid to be happy helping her conceive a child and I'm so excited that everything is working out- he's happy, she's happy, I'm happy and with me diverting the ridiculous amount of fertility energy I carry into her we're confident that she'll be pregnant with hers and Triffid's baby before the end of the year. I'm stoked- he has amazing genes and I'm happy that they're going to be in the world more than our daughter together. At this stage it's just going to be the classic turkey baster method but I'm open to it being natural conception if that's what happens, although Triffid is more unsure of that than the former.

I think it's a gorgeous thing to be doing and I was so delighted that he was happy to get involved; my friend is a darling Being who will make a spectacular mother and at 43 her options are limited, she's financially independent and established and this little girl is going to be so loved and cared for in a huge extended family of which we shall be a part. My friend wants the baby to know her father and me, and her siblings, and for her to know that from the beginning she was being welcomed in and much loved and I get to be a co-mother again, even in a small way. It's all awesome and I love being the kind of woman who thinks this sort of thing is normal and excellent.

So we're going to move to the village so that we can be in the same community and we'll settle there: it's going to be good for the girls, they'll be absorbed into my friend's extended family and her mother is into children so they may even get a sort of nanna out of the whole deal, which they'll love. It will work for them and it will work for me, because I know I don't have the energy for the girls that they need and they'll be surrounded by a bigger family (although my friend is convinced that we're on the track with my healing and that I'll be feeling much much better soon).

I will feel freer to pursue my own work, the girls will be in a community of strong independent women who are creating their own lives on their own terms (which will also be inspiring for me) and I'll have support for following my own dreams- it's a pretty awesome development actually. I'm happy with it. And my friend makes jokes that I'll get so fit we'll be pregnant together, to which I just shake my head and decline the vision- I want to dance again, and explore my body in other ways than having another child. I'll enjoy hers- I'm a grandmother that never sees any of her grandchildren (four now) so I'll be happy with being a co-mother when that's needed. I'm hoping that my grandson's mother will come and live down here so I'll get to see my grandson, but who knows if that will happen: I know my darling Krystal's girls are lost to me at this point in time and I doubt they'll ever be a part of my life.

It's funny how it all works out, isn't it? I am so passionate about the kids and they're all scattering around the place, doing other things which is awesome and cool, and I still miss the craziness of having a house full of kids all racing around doing their crazy things. I was saying to Cerridwen that when I had my Krystal at 18 I had thought about the future; I had imagined the two of us hanging out when she was older, being close and enjoying spending time together but it didn't work out like that at all. I see women doing that with their older daughters sometimes and I watch them, wondering about what that is like; my 14 year old wants to live in a town I don't want to live in and do things I don't want to do so we're not together, she's choosing to live with her father because she gets to pretty much be an only child.

I get that my life with my older children is pretty much over in terms of being with them much: my 17 year old is moving into a house with his girlfriend and best friend, in preparation for moving to Sydney next year to start his degree in gaming programming and my 21 year old is waiting for his girlfriend of 2 years to get old enough to live with him without her mother trying to get him thrown in jail which she's threatened to do in the past because his girlfriend is five years younger than him, an age gap that at her age makes it illegal for them to be together. Her mother doesn't know that they've stayed together via text, email and the occasional snatched hours, despite being forbidden to see each other.

He hasn't laid a hand on her and has made sure they've never been in a situation where things could get out of hand. She's just turned 16 and they're working out what they want to do- he's talking about finishing an apprenticeship and their setting up house together in the same town as my 14 year old lives in. I am fascinated by their inclination towards a domesticity that I never have had, despite the number of children I've birthed.

I knew a couple years ago that had met when she was 14 and he was 16; their parents were against the match and tried to keep them apart so when she was 16 they calmly decided to get pregnant in order to shut the parents up. When I met them they had four daughters that looked exactly the same, they'd been together for 22 years and they adored each other more than they did when they were first together. Six months after their shotgun wedding, when she was 7 months pregnant with their first child, he- a national swimming champion and Olympic contender- contracted polio and for three weeks it was doubtful that he was going to live.

She refused to leave his side and told him every day that he was going to recover, and he did, although the polio left him severely crippled and destroyed his swimming career. It took him a year to learn to walk again and his legs were permanently deformed by the polio. It made not one iota of difference to her; she took it all her in not yet 17 year old stride and told him constantly that they were going to be fine- and they were.

They lived by the sea, had four mermaid daughters- all long blonde hair, blue eyes and dusky skinned, all surfers- and they loved each other passionately. I remember being fascinated by them as a young girl- I met them when I was about 12 and their eldest was 21, and their family was so strongly bonded that it puzzled and intrigued me because it seemed so vastly different to my own experience; I had no idea what that was like or how to do that, and I still don't. My second son and his girlfriend are like this couple; he considers this girl to be his One and she has had no interest in any other male than him since she met him. They will likely have babies together at some point and perhaps even do the buying the house and putting down roots thing. I love my children passionately and I'm aware that my future has something else in store than being the hub of a large family that gathers every Sunday for lunch and get togethers.

I just need to hold up my compass and turn the wheel a different direction now, keep my heart and Shine strong and follow the call within me, leading me into whatever I'm going to head into; the sky is full of stars, the sails are straining against the wind that blows around me as I tip my head back to watch the St Elmo's fire dance along the spars. I have no idea where my farseeing heart will take me; I have no idea of what lies ahead- I just know that I'm living into it more every day and seeing what happens.

[Mike]

https://youtube.com/watch?v=JRnva...feature=fvwrel

frightening, but he's got nothin on your former avatar pic, mate.

Posted by Borden (here)
Why ... there's no-one else here, Mr. Torrance, sir. You are the caretaker. You've ... always been the caretaker.

[another bob]

Otherkindpurplezebralama

[PurpleLama]

I have had this trolling post on my mind all morning long, originally destined for Mozart's recent thread, but honestly I decided it would be rude and not supporting to the well being of our forum, so I've decided instead to share it here.

So, if Cobra is leading the Resistance, does this mean GI Joe is now a bad guy?

[Mike]

hey Songs ,

i was thinking about a few of the things you've written in post 2900, and i immediately thought about something kurt vonnegut had said in his seminal book 'slaughterhouse five'. i don't remember the quote exactly, of course, but it was something to the effect that human perception was the equivalent of strapping on glasses connected to a long and narrow tube that could not look peripherally but only straight ahead...ok, i just butchered the hell outta that but you get the point: human beings, in relation to the multiverse or whatever you wanna call it, actually see and experience very little of it. i know this isn't groundbreaking news here but i liked the metaphor, so...

i too want to experience more of it, but i tend to think the universe reveals the bits of itself that we are only ready for; to experience too much of it too soon can be dangerous(think bad acid trip here) the universe in and of itself is not malevolent, but if one is exposed to parts of it they're not ready for it can certainly seem that way.

i must admit that i laughed a little when you wrote that you "played with the multiple personality structure". i'm not sure if you were speaking euphemistically or literally, but i immediately envisioned a doctor explaining to a confused parent in the kindest way possible the reasons behind their son or daughters' madness..."well, it's like this Mrs.Smith, little Johnny is acting like that little girl from 'the exorcist' not because he's nuts, but because he's 'playing and experimenting with the multiple personality structure'.

so little of what is experienced is conscious, you're right, but i myself do not panic or feel overwhelmed by it; mainly because i've been too distracted with trying to stay alive for the past 6-7yrs my heart is messed up in a major way, and i've only been able to indulge my esoteric side recently; so forgive me if i'm a little behind the 8 ball here.

i guess you could say, using your metaphor, that i'm more of the b-52, unfortunately, but i'm anxious to stretch out my etheric muscles and change that asap.(*Borden, i'm ready to start the energy work when you are*) though deprogramming, in my case anyway, should probably be a slower process -- sort of like slowly rising from deep ocean depths so as to not implode kind of a thing. even at the pace i'm going now(slow!) i'm occasionally afflicted with a particular case of the bends. unpleasant.

you said that the idea that anyone else can actually hurt you is a myth, and i agree in the abstract, but applying this abstract notion in the real world has been next to impossible for me, especially when enveloped in a cocoon of pain and despair. in such a state i don't respond emotionally to what i know to be true intellectually, and i suppose the trick is not to get into that position in the first place. i don't mean shutting yourself off from the world, but strengthening yourself beforehand, through meditation or some other form of spiritual practice. (i just registered for meditation classes at the Zen center here in town. pretty excited)

i'd like to say more, but my hungover brain is simply not responding, and i can no longer take caffeine due to said heart malady, so there ya go. my night last night was absolutely insane. i rarely go out these days, and when i do i'm immediately reminded why i don't. i'll post all about it later if i have the energy...

[jorr lundstrom]

Maybe i can post a little titbit from Snordelhans here, in the pub

without being asked wot friggin planet I am from. LOL That

question isnt fair, as Im not sure which one Im on now, if any.

Well, lets try...........

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=9L28-wR8iYY

https://youtube.com/watch?v=9L28-wR8iYY&feature=plcp


All is well


Jorr...2.0

[Mike]

i like the Beastie Boys. and i like Adam Yauch aka 'MCA'. he died a couple weeks ago. he's the one who looks dizzy and confused while he sings. brown flannel. this is my mini tribute....

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=ru3gH27Fn6E

[Mike]

any of you guys listen to a particular song or songs while posting? i have a few but i prefer this one in particular. i know that a lot of people skip posted songs, and i don't blame them -- i do too. but this song is pretty damn cool. it's an instrumental, dreamy, by some guy named michael brook. it's on the soundtrack for the movie 'heat'. it's kinda meditative. i think you might like it...

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=ITFyP9b7ius

[Calz]

Posted by PurpleLama (here)
I have had this trolling post on my mind all morning long, originally destined for Mozart's recent thread, but honestly I decided it would be rude and not supporting to the well being of our forum, so I've decided instead to share it here.



So, if Cobra is leading the Resistance, does this mean GI Joe is now a bad guy?

The top part of your post should actually be an automatic banner type disclaimer at the top of *every* new thread.

If members would even pause, take a deep breath ... and perhaps count to ten before posting that would help.

Taking "all morning long" to deliberate on whether or not your post was "rude and not supporting of the well being of the forum" ... well ...


... I guess that is the stuff Purple Wizards are made of ...


... as for GI Joe being a bad guy ...

I guess that depends ...

[songsfortheotherkind]

This morning, unlike every other morning in recent months, I have woken up and not had the burning desire to write. I am in a space with the compass that I sort of knew I was going to hit, yet am struggling with now I am here regardless of the preknowledge. There is a part of me that does not want me to see, the programming trying to force me back into the preordained path and throwing a lot of confusion and noise at me in the process to try and shut the signal up. It's resulted in me hitting a familiar point: the one of feeling that all is pointless and why am I even bothering?



I have a feeling that for creatives, this is a powerful bespelling: the draining away of the initial spark, the flatline feeling of 'it's all rubbish, everything I create is rubbish, my entire life is a joke and when am I going to get with the program, give up all these stupid ideas, get a real job and shut up?', the sudden turning to ashes and dust of the visions that just the previous day were so bright and shining. I'm really familiar, boringly so, with this sudden sniper attack pattern of ennui and apathy, the insidious creeping malady of hopelessness and blahs that siphon away any idea that I had anything at all to contribute. My passion lies in millions of tiny little shards at my feet and all my word seem hollow and useless.

I'm being fed on. Knowing that isn't the key to disconnecting though; there's another process that I am looking for, there's a more effective way of turning towards the feeders and looking them in the eye. My sonar is tuned towards that this morning and it's what I'm mapping.

I am aware that there is a deep level Dark City bespelling that goes on around creatives, with the intent of crippling particular expressions and explorations of signal. I'm currently sitting here with my headphones on and some powerful binaural beat signals pulsing through my head because I'm actively rebutting the creeping drain that is trying to wrap its clammy fingers around my spirit. I know what it wants- it wants to Dark Crystal me, these gibbering and slathering energetic skeksis that have no life of their own.



I'm struggling to find my signal again and I know that they want me to struggle, to fight against their pull; I know this quicksand, I've drowned in it many times before, only to have my sodden and limp figure pushed back onto the shore because this isn't a feed that kills, it's a feed that wants to bleed the colors and return the husk, to slowly rebuild again and be the battery for another feed. I have learned about quicksand though- if you want to survive, you don't struggle, you float- get on your back and make tiny, gentle movements towards the solid ground, keep calm and focused on floating. If I thrash against the stories in my head I get sucked in- what you resist, persists- and so I am not resisting the damnation that is flooding through me in these moments.



I just wrote and deleted a heap of memory stuff because the darkness was where they wanted me to go so I went there; it wasn't, however, my destination. When you are a parent, there are a million things that one can beat one's Self up about: I have buried two daughters, there are plenty of things for the howlers to drag to the surface, plenty of quicksand to grip my feet with and try to drag me down. I'm floating on the surface, being swarmed and pummeled by memory that accuses and shrieks, every misstep dragged to the surface to point its clammy fingers at me- and I know this tactic really, really well. So I'm looking somewhere else.

I know that I am a restless, searching spirit; I know that I am driven by internal hungers and directions that have few acceptable paths in this paradigm. I know that I am looking for something that I cannot name, I want to experience things I cannot point to and say 'that! that's what I have to do! *now* I'm sorted'. I am sifting through the noise to find a signal that may not even exist anywhere but in me and I have to do it with these periodic attacks from the snivellers and spirit reavers. I've spared you the words created by the reaver space so that I can get
to the exploring space, otherwise this would have read twice as long and would have just been me sprawling my guilt everywhere.



My guilt. That manufactured condition whereby the feeders can get their hooks in, so I've been breathing through guilt and releasing it, breathing through negativity and defenses and releasing my Self micron by micron back into expansion, memory by memory. I recognise how easy it is to beat my Self up endlessly in a story of how I have failed, and continue to fail, my children; I look deeper beneath that and see the endless burden of parents weighted down by the judgements and condemnations of their children, the implication that we knew how to do things differently and just didn't, the endless recriminations and anger about what did and didn't happen, what should and shouldn't have happened and it's a deep, gut wrenching stabbing that never seems to end.

Unless I end it. I take out the knives and lay them down in the quicksand, watching them sink away from me and into oblivion; the memories try to stab back into me and I lay on the quivering surface and just watch them without any connection; yes, it happened. Yes, things happened as a result. Yes, she died. Yes, it hurt. Yes, there was hurt to everyone. Yes, I did that. Yes, sometimes I was angry and out of control. Yes, I got things wrong.

And sometimes, I got things right. And sometimes, there was laughter and joy and connection. And sometimes, there were moments of breathtaking beauty and wonder, such love as can never be expressed in words. And sometimes, there were hugs that lasted lifetimes and painted treasure on my heart. That is there too and it is what it is.

I lie on my back and slowly hold my hologram up to my eyes, in the midst of all the pain and mindstorm and shrieking and I breathe from my Essence, my bright spark of Self, and look at what pathways are being used to get at me. It is a story of what I should know, what I am supposed to be doing in order to be 'ok', what I was supposed to have done and can never take back and change. What would I change? Who or what would I leave out? I have no desire to change anything, it is what it is.

As I lie there in peace, the energy begins to move me to the solid ground and yet it's ok here too, floating on the quicksand surrounded by memories of supposed failure and lack, and I accept everything from them, the love and the hate, the laughter and the broken hearted sobbing, because they are the tapestry of the path that led me to the me I am now, and the me I am living into in every moment.

I know that I need to live each tiny step in the moment and the picture will take care of itself; I can do nothing about the level of noise that is currently on the planet, I can only make the Art that I have in my hands to do. The shrieking tries to tell me that I haven't saved the world or my family or this and that yet and thus my existence is utterly futile and pointless, that no amount of Shine in the moment makes up for the colossal mistake that my existence is and the weight of all my failures. I simply hold my compass up and let the fractal nature of it prism the light in me into ten thousand beams of color and expressions of I Am, without any idea that these are, in the end, worth anything at all. They are what I have been gifted; I am grateful for the gift and so I beam it back, amplified and evolving because that's what I've got.



I know the howlers want me to stop creating and dreaming, to give up and go passive and slack, let everything slide joylessly away from me because I can't fix anything, past present or future. I know they want me to make this mean something and create a big story out of it, for me to want nothing, do nothing, be nothing. I can clearly see that worm within me, thieving little dream eater, whispering all the reasons why I should quit: too much this, not enough that, too old, too lacking in talent, too blah, too loud, too garrulous, blibble wibble whatever. What it is really attempting to do is to get me to stop looking at my compass.

I know something they don't want to know. I know that they need me and that without me they have no life. Frightened, lifeless howlers, afraid of dying and being forgotten. I know how they feel. I reach out compassionate hands to their fear and misery even though they cannot take it from me, their natures and inclinations prevent it- and I can see the fleeting wish for something different in their eyes as they sink beneath their own stubborn refusal to let go and evolve. They are Artax, unwilling to save themselves, and I cannot go into the quicksand after them.



So here I am, gathering the threads to me and seeing what is actually here for me, moment by moment, leaving the rest of the image to drop away; I'm bent towards my Art, feeling it out with careful fingers, knowing that in the end it may be an utterly solitary path. I am open to my own dance and craft, and the quicksand trills beneath me, pushing me faster towards the solid ground in support of my path and my signal, wanting me to find my way. I know how to do that, with this compass in my hand and I am becoming more adept at it.

I need to go take a shower now, I'm a bit slimy but otherwise intact. I want to map my signal more.

[songsfortheotherkind]

(Taken from http://barbarasclub.com/blog/ )

In one paragraph—or more, if you like—answer this question:

In what imaginary environment would your best self emerge?

Most of us have never asked ourselves that question because it’s not considered askable. What we’ve been trained to ask is, “How can I fit into some preexisting environment? How can I change myself to fit the world?” When we go to the store, we hope we’ll fit into the clothes on the racks. If the jeans are too long or too narrow, it’s we who are too short or too fat. If we happened to have three arms, we’d cut one off rather than politely but firmly insist on a jacket with three sleeves!

... I’m going to stop right here and define my terms a little bit. By “environment,” I don’t just mean your physical surroundings. Sure, it would be nice to have a house with a patio and a swimming pool and a huge fireplace, and it might be even nicer to be in the Bahamas under a palm tree. But I don’t want you to spend too much time on the color of your walls or the climate and the vegetation, unless that is vital to your best state of mind. It may be. But “environment” is also, very importantly, your human environment: the kinds of people you’d like to be surrounded by; how much privacy you need, and how much interaction; what kinds of help you’d like; what kinds of responses you’d want to your ideas.

I'm going to use this to do some mapping today. I'm thinking I might head out for awhile and have some time to my Self, take some of my favorite books and consider a few things that really need to be explored. I want to start creating what it is I want rather than continuously trying to deal with what I *don't* want.

When I strip away all the noise and clamour, if I strip away the rationalisations and blibble, what is it that I truly, deeply want to experience and explore? What would I really want to be, do, and live into if there was nothing that could get in my way? What does my life look like when it's an absolute expression of who I experience my Self to be?

When I've got that part clear, let's start masterminding. Be my mastermind group and help me craft this next part?

[Mike]

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=fTDME_21B_U

is this scene as funny as i think it is, or am i just drunk?

either way, it's inspired my new signature.

[Borden]

My sober opinion is that this scene is indeed as funny as you think it is. That film (Old School) sits proudly in my increasingly huge DVD collection, and when I first saw that particular scene I was in bits. Does this change of sig mean I really was Ron Burgundy all along? I knew it. You were playing with my mind, you fiend! If anyone's going to show Christina Applegate his jazz flute I want it to be me!

Are you drunk again ... or did your night out with that friend turn into drunkenness of a more epic nature?