All Filler, No Killer.

Was happiness a fad?
Or was it in the lost and found again beyond the issues.
It might not be so bad,
We're all addicted to our tragedy,
I guess it's what it had to be.

With nothing on my back,
It's still enough to bring me down.
My mind's about to crack.
Caust what I thought cound not be found.
Matter of in fact,
It's harder still when you're around.
With nothing on my back,
I can't help but drown.

I might as well belong to both of you.
And the mess you alsways seem to drag me through.
That night forever always haunting me.
But I guess it is what it's supposed to be.
But spare me your thoughts and sympathy.


-Sum 41 "Nothing on my back."

I've been eating popcorn out of brown paper bags.

Mozart was a child prodigy.
I was a child prodigy.

Mozart was a genius.
I was a genius.

Mozart lived in Prague.
I lived in Prague.

Mozart died penniless of syphilis far too young and was buried in a pauper's grave. It was raining.
I hope for more time and better weather.

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

-W.B. Yeats "Brown Penny."

I washed my car the other day. John Bon Jovi worked at the car wash and sold me a code to use the drive through automatic car wash. I cannot be bothered to muck around in the muck around my car to wash it the old fashioned way. John told me that his last record didn't sell very well. He told me that he wishes he was born in a different time. A time where a tight black t-shirt was more acceptable. I smiled awkwardly and said something patronizing about how the 80s was a wild time, but 20 years ago. He agreed. We agreed that it could be worse. We agreed that worse was the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We laughed the sort of laugh that stangers laugh at something that isn't really sad, or not sad, it isn't really anything at all, but laughter fills the awkward void that exists between has-been guitar heroes and folks with dirty cars.

I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel and over the Brooklyn Bridge in the same afternoon and it reminded me of why I fell in love with Rock n' Roll in the first place. It was the...

That same day I found my way to hunger and stopped in at a place that sold burgers and wet dreams and bought their special deal for one and ate it alone in the corner while I fought with the newspaper. I wanted the news, it wanted me to be embarassed and awkward in front of an audience of teenagers chasing tail on their lunch break and burly men and their burly wives seeking to be burlier than before. The newspaper won. The newspaper always wins.

The burger was unsatisfying. They always are. I went back the next day. I always do. I will again.

When I got home from the car wash, and the tunnels and bridges, and the disapointing burger joints, I wrote a novel about the Seven Dead Sins. It was about a clerk at the department of corrections who was in charge of developing new road signs for the Seven Deadly Sins to appease the new government which was controlled by a Priest, a Rabbi, and a Plumber. Everyone thought it was a joke, but the plumber shot flaming balls of fire out of his ass when he took mushrooms, and his favorite thing to do was to crush snapping turtles underfoot. When this happened people started to take the whole ordeal a little more serious.

Anyhow. This clerk made these roade signs and no one could understand them. And amidst the confusion everyone crashed their clean cars into everyone elses' clean cars and everyone was mangled, maimed, and killed in the wrecks. Mel Gibson has agreed to direct.

The sign for Lust looked like this:
Unconvincing, at best, as you can clearly see.

Be pleasant to dogs and children.

Sum 41, Mozart, Yeats, Bon Jovi, Priest, Rabbi, Plumber and RHCP pictures poached from the world wide web with compliments of Google Image Search. Click on the images to be taken to the source.

"Popcorn" by morganeliasmurray, 2006, Caroline, AB.

Lust sign is actually "Untitled No. 42 (Mickey Rourke ponders his many regrets)" by morganeliasmurray, 2006, Chicoutimi, QC.

I would like to abdicate responsibility for everything else I may or may not be responsible for.

I have discovered the most amazing thing on the internet since the last time I said the same thing. Go here. Look at this. Have your breath taken away.

1 comment:

Glenford said...

An Absurdist Triumph!!

Camus can do, but Caroline Area Man is smarter.