Step Right Up. There's Something Happening Here...

2 years and none the wiser...

Like so many eyeballs glued to the sloppy remains of some car crash victim, it's safe to say that your double globes will find their way back here. I've been waiting for you to evaporate, like an assassin who realizes too late that escape was never assured but rather implied to heighten resolve. And therein lies the entertainment. The lion and the malnourished Christian playing back and forth. One too stupid to realize he can't win and one too realistic to allow him to. It perplexes me sometimes, the reasons for choosing which houses to trick-or-treat at and which houses not to. Within the most brightly lit lies the cold heart of some frail, old, discontented granny that has labored ceaselessly to produce caramel apples with surprise centers. For all those years she put up with those damn kids running through her flower beds. Just one bite and you'll agree, modern medicine never looked so good. No tongue, no problem. If they can teach those 'stupid chimps' to sign then you should have no trouble. So maybe you never did take the time to run it through your mainframe and you just hit every house you could. Treats, after all, are what it's all about. Eventually you'll wind-up here. Everyone comes by sooner or later. Simply because I leave the lights off.

Another year, another fifty-two weeks wondering where fifty of them went. It baffles me to no end how prosperous these little tirades of mine have become. It's like showing up at the beginning of every month to get kicked in the balls because someone said there'd be free ice cream afterwards. There never is of course and the ball kicking continues. One day we're gonna get that ice cream, but by then the only thing it'll be good for is bringing down the swelling. I've been better than this and I've been worse. But who's keeping score? Maybe I'm trapped in a jar, you're in grade six, and it's science period. Maybe I'm creepy and maybe I'm beautiful. Maybe you should just check your damn textbook and see what it says. Because I've been wondering about that myself...

It's official. I've become notably disconcerting. Not that I'm upset about it or anything. To be quite honest with you I think it's rather an honor to have written something that has to be accompanied by a warning label. It's like being a canister of rat poison. Good for killing rats and dangerous in the hands of children. I like that, metaphorically speaking. All you rats out there take care, the kids have got your number.

In a way it's a little upsetting that one could get in trouble for reading Black Market Surgery in English class. On the other hand, there's something disturbingly fine about it at the same time. I'll be honest with you, publishing a book of the manifestos was not my idea. But comparatively speaking, I've harbored fantasies about having an actual book released longer than I've dreamed of making records. There's something far more internally satisfying about one's words being permanently captured between two covers. Even if one of those covers comes complete with a parental advisory sticker. Like everything I've creatively done in my life, I could care less whether or not anyone reads it or likes it for that matter. As long as I've got a copy sitting on my book shelf then it'll be alright.

That's not to say that I disagree with the warning. I fully admit that some of the language and imagery I've used over the last two years might be a little much for young kids. But I'm not sure it's all that dangerous for teenagers. These days parents are continually surprised at what their kids know and understand. There's a downside to growing up too fast I'll admit, but deferring any kind of literature until a later date because of content is always a dangerous practice. Better that kids read than do nothing at all. And if it's something risky then so be it. At least there's a chance it'll cause some form of passionate response. There's been a debate for years about whether or not novels like Catcher In The Rye and other great works may or may not negatively influence children in various ways. But unless you're talking about something like Mein Kampf then I doubt that ingesting literature that provokes sociological thought or internal questioning can be damaging in any way. Even something like Mein Kampf or likeminded works can serve as a present day reminder of what happens when weak minded individuals fall prey to those that feed them bullshit. Better to be intimate with the ways of those processes that are not so easily detected than to be ignorant to them. Like the man said: Being awake is one thing. Realizing it is something altogether different. I always found it far more daunting to pick up something like The Iliad or War & Peace than I did Slaughter House Five, Native Son, or 1984. But one thing leads to another and sooner or later you come to the realization that there's nowhere else to go. So you read them and, piece by piece, you get it. That goes for anything really. It's all work until you realize that, in the end, there was something there worth discovering in the first place. That's the pure beauty of literature and music. Despite the fact that hundreds, thousands, or millions of others have read or heard the same thing as you have, it will always remain wholly yours in some unexplainable way. Pray that never changes.

So that's that then. To be quite honest with you I do feel a little cheated by the whole thing in a way. All this time and I could have been doing worse. Much, much worse. So maybe this is the jumping off point then. Maybe this is where I get back to the basics and you do your best to cop a part. It's time to reverse the angles and make up for some lost time I think. It's time to take back the night from all those irritating 'take back the night' people. It's time to drive your car firmly through the wall of your local burger joint and reinvent the concept of the 'drive-in'. Let there be storms of impoverished malcontents raging through the streets of upper class enclaves and entire swimming pools filled with cool-whip where full-moon struck insomniacs re-enact the finer points of imperial Rome. It's time to get hammered, hit the highway, and turn off the headlights. There's nothing left but borrowed time and cheap excuses. So why don't you guys go get some guns, a shit-load of drugs, some liquor, some porn, and meet me on the roof. We'll have a better vantage point from up there. All filled with stars and the unexplained universe, we'll trip and fall to the grass below and reaffirm our birthright. The fact that we're always just around the corner from wherever it is we're going, and fully aware of the fact that we have no idea what we're going to do when we get there. How's my driving now?

2 Year Manifesto Table Of Contents:

1] 5 Things To Remember While Intoxicated On Motion Sickness Pills.
2] How Debbie Parks Drowned In Cherry-Jell-O.
3] MATTOPIA. Trouble Abounds In Wonderland.
4] That Whole Opium/Talking Animals Thing.
5] Techniques For Faking Multiple Personality Disorders During Criminal Trials.
6] Trade Secrets Revealed.
7] Going Out Standing Up.

Over the past year there have been a number of questions that have been repeatedly asked. The most frequently asked question is about LO-FI-B-SIDES. The funny thing about that question is that I've answered it more than twenty times. If you take the time to pour through some of the older 1-900-Idiot Savants you'll probably find what you're looking for. And that goes for a whole slew of answers to other frequently asked questions. But I have this strange feeling that you're not going to do that. Why? I have no idea. Maybe you were dropped on your head as a child and your neural pathways were affected. Whatever the case, this is going to be the final time I do this. So read up and pass it along.

Finality at its Finest...

Like I've endeavored to explain a million times, there were only 5000 of them made! Shit, I don't even have a copy (no word of a lie - someone lifted it) So, if you don't have a copy of it, here are some suggestions:

a) Try looking in some used record stores. You never know what you'll find.
b) You can try to buy it from someone on the internet but it'll probably cost a lot.
c) Go get the Edgefest 99 CD and buy Beautiful Midnight. That way you'll have Fated and Born To Kill and will only be missing our cover of Enjoy The Silence.
d) Home invasions.
e) Walk through the streets naked with 'LO-FI-B-SIDES' written on your chest and see who responds.
f) Try calling Dave Porter at Universal Music in Toronto and ask him. It was their idea in the first place. He might even do your laundry if you ask him nicely enough. Hell, he does mine when I'm in town.
g) Start a political party whose only agenda is to have it put back into production.
h) Find a girl or guy who has it, woo them, pretend to fall in love with them, steal the CD, and dump them flat.
i) Walk into reception at the Universal Music's head office with a machine gun and start screaming demands. That way you'll probably get a whole whack of other free shit as well. (Such as the Rammstein Live video!)
j) That's pretty much all I could come up with.

1. 5 Things To Remember While Intoxicated On Motion Sickness Pills. (Part 1: Condensed Research, 1989-1999).

Yea, it's a tricky business all right. You've got to watch it when you're stomach tells you to do one thing and your insatiable need to cut loose and go off tells you to do something else. You might find yourself waking up on some tennis court somewhere in traditional Bavarian garb with some half naked chick who's collapsed in a puddle of her own vomit on the other side of the net. I speak only from experience here kids. Because this isn't something one fucks around with. There are always going to be good, solid reasons for not doing a variety of extremely stupid things. Things like sitting in a lawn chair on your 17th birthday and drinking 10 beers before deciding you have to skateboard to the local store to get some tomato juice. You should know better. But something within our nature disappears when inebriation takes hold of us. We are diminished in a way that mocks us and turns us into those people that stand side stage during festival performances and repeatedly shout 'PLAY SOME FUCKING HIP!' You know who they are. They're the ones who have hockey hair but don't play hockey. They're the reason classic rock stations flourish in this backwater country of ours. We could have been so much better than this if only beer wasn't our national pastime. But that's not the point. The point is NOT to abuse the secret powers of motion sickness pills. They look harmless enough, all beige and pleasant. But I assure you, they are the devil come dressed as the king of kings. Take care to read the following research carefully. It might just save your life someday.

Research Key:

MSP shall represent 'Motion Sickness Pill(s) throughout.
MSPI shall represent 'Motion Sickness Pill Inebriation' throughout.
DE shall stand for 'Delusional Episode' throughout.

1] Sex and Motion Sickness Pills.

I cannot stress this enough. If you're going to abuse MSP and expect to have sex you'll be in for some pleasant and not so pleasant surprises. The upside to sex while suffering from MSPI can only be attributed to males. There is a better than 50% chance that your staying power will be increased by at least 8 to 10 minutes. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I am not a woman, I cannot comment on any positives to the female sexual experience during MSPI. The negatives, on the other hand, are far more varied and troubling. There is approximately a 42% chance that you'll succumb to the affects of fatigue long before anything even happens. There is also a 12% chance that you will have a DE involving the person you are with. This usually involves your partner appearing to be a giant lizard of some kind. There is also the possibility that sexual stimulation might be reduced if massive amounts of alcohol have been consumed along with the MSP. In such cases it is highly unlikely that you'll be able to stand or focus, let alone have sex with a living person. Corpses, on the other hand, don't tend to move so they're a little easier to manipulate. If it's come to sex with the dead I wouldn't worry about it too much. You'll probably be so out of it that you'll be experiencing a permanent DE and will most likely think you're banging Carol Alt. (Carol, if you read this don't be angry. Literary license and all...)

2] Operating Complicated Machinery And Appliances.

By far the most dangerous aspect of MSPI. Attempting to drive a car, work a washing machine, or bake cookies can turn into acts that rival walking through a minefield. There is nothing worse that suffering from MSPI and trying to drive a car, train, boat, plane, or zeppelin. The affects of MSP can vary in such circumstances but the most common ones are as follows:

a) Double vision.
b) Loss of depth perception.
c) Loss of peripheral vision.
d) The affects of altitude are diminished.
e) Having no sense of being horizontal or vertical.
f) The delusion that you are Aqua Man.
g) You will most likely NOT look good doing it.
h) Onboard stereo manipulation while moving is unlikely.
i) Comprehending the difference between D, R, and P will be impossible. They will all appear to be the letter Q.\

When it comes to operating house hold appliances you've got to remember some fundamental things. Electricity, heat, and extreme cold are usually involved (radiation and extremely fast moving dangerous parts being a close second). You should note that the following affects may occur while attempting appliance use.

a) A complete loss of vision (but that's usually because you've simply forgotten to turn the lights on).
b) The inability to feel pain caused by extreme heat. Such as sticking a hot iron to your forehead.
c) The inability to detect extreme cold or freezer burn.
d) The inability to properly manipulate door knobs, handles, or buttons of any kind.
e) The overwhelming desire to flip over the lawnmower while it's running and stare at the blades while they whip around. This usually leads to you trying to touch them.
f) Operating any kind of power drill or tool will usually cause seizures.
g) Locating ON-OFF buttons is near impossible.

3] Speech & Motion Sickness Pills.

Most people have difficulty speaking as it is, let alone doing it while engaging MSP. It's safe to say that you probably won't be making much sense while under the affects of the pills, though in rare instances you might find yourself saying things that far surpass the intelligence that you display on a regular basis. In such cases I strongly suggest that you just go with it. Because let's face it, when are you going to sound that fluidly bright again?

That said, 99% of the time you'll probably encounter slurred speech and a complete loss of any vocabulary that consists of three syllables or more. This will reduce your ability to communicate to the lowest possible levels, leaving you with the mental prowess of a two year old. Such effects are bound to ware off in anywhere from 4 to 6 hours, though some people might experience a prolonged speech problem for up to three days depending on whether or not you've mixed your MSP with other drugs. If this occurs try to remain calm and, preferably, locked in a room without windows, sharp objects, or lava lamps.

Anyone who bothers to abuse MSP is going to have to live with the fact that speech difficulties are just par for the course. There's really nothing you can do about it, so just relax and try your best to just nod and smile when someone says something to you. The fact that you're inner monologue is just as poor as your outer monologue will be freaking you out enough as it is. So trying to make sense out of it will be a waste of time anyway.

4] The Affects Of MSP Abuse On Personal And Working Relationships.

Make no mistake about it. It's going to be a rough ride. If you've come to the decision that MSP are going to be a permanent part of your life then you're going to have to deal with a few facts. First, you can forget about entering into (or remaining in) any kind of romantic relationship. There's just no way that someone else is going to be able to put up with your habit. There is always the chance that you'll stumble across a fellow MSP user and life will be grand, but it's unlikely. It'll start out all right at first. You'll just do it on the weekends and everything will seem okay. But as time passes your significant other will begin to notice some ugly changes in you and will eventually call it quits. So you're going to have to decide pretty quick: the pills or the person?

Hiding a MSP habit from coworkers will also be impossible. There's just no way to keep something like that in the dark for long. So you've got two choices. Either you throw yourself down some stairs while on the job and get worker's comp. or start enjoying the benefits of welfare. Because there's no way you'll be able to function at work after a 36 hour MSP binge. No one said that substance abuse was going to be easy. So, once again, you're going to have to make a choice: MSP or employment? Your call.

5] Mixing Your MSP With Other Substances.

It's a well known fact that effects of MSP start to wear off after a while if you're doing them straight. So the next step is to start mixing them with other substances to elevate their potential. The most common mixer is booze, preferably liquor. Most hardcore MSP addicts will usually mix their pills with either whiskey or vodka. You should stay away from rum, gin, wine, and beer as these tend to make the ride either too rough or not rough enough. If you're new to the experience you should know one thing through. No MSP user ever takes more than one pill when mixing with booze. It's just foolishness. Well, the whole thing is foolishness really, but we're all fools here, so what's the big deal?

When it comes to mixing MSP with other drugs I'm at a loss. It's an extremely dangerous practice to say the least. One of two things is going to happen in such circumstances. One: either you're going to go way too low, or Two: you're going to go way too high. Let's just say that there's a difference between the normal MSP addict and those that are just destructive. Have some class, if you're going to bother making the most of an over the counter drug then why fuck about with ones that aren't. It just doesn't make any sense now does it? When it comes to mixing with other over the counter drugs (and prescription drugs) here's a short list of ones that are okay (and may even enhance things a bit).

a) Nyquil (never Dayquil)
b) Ornade.
c) Fluticasone.
d) Cefaclor (250mg's and up)
e) Extra Strength Nytol and half a table spoon of cough-syrup.
f) Allegra-D.
g) A full table spoon of Cough Syrup.
h) Muscle Relaxants.

Not long ago I received an e-mail asking me to include some poetry’ in the manifesto. You know, there’s isn’t a word in the English language that I detest more than poetry. It just sounds so fucking gay. But that’s not to say that I won’t capitulate. I’ve always been a little apprehensive about including such works due to the fact that I’m not really a poet (and have never considered myself one). If anything, I’m guilty of simply jotting words down and revisiting them months or years later in an attempt to construct something useable. But since you asked so nicely I’m not going to be an asshole about it.

The following blurbs then are from a variety of journals that I’ve kept on the road and at home between 1994-1998. To be democratic about the whole thing I decided to simply open a book up to a random page and wildly point at something. Whatever that ‘something’ turned out to be, I used. Furthermore, I’m not going to bother spending time applying the proper rules of ‘poetic’ grammar. I’ll just stick them in like they went down. For some fun I’ve also decided to include a little background on each of them (which will be endlessly amusing for me, if nothing else) Who knows, maybe you’ll recognize some shit and realize that most of the time I’m just ripping myself off. So grab an air sickness bag and let’s rock and roll.

Rapturous Assassin

This is definitely an older one because it was actually saved on a floppy disc. In my own personal chronology, the use of the floppy disk indicates that I did not have a computer of my own to save it on. Thus, it was definitely written before 1996. Most of the things that I jotted down onto a variety of disks during that time found their way into notebooks simply to ensure that they wouldn’t be lost. This was one such security measure.

Every time I forget
I lie in state
the thing that sent you
the one inside you hate
likes the darkening time
and will let you pass
if you humor it with the word
God above likes hell enough I suppose
if he alone recognizes it
every time I forget
I lie in state
and thieves for me I pay
their duty to fail at the foot of the stairs
rapturous assassins all
like butterflies in wet pavement
stuck and fossilized under the noon sun
it makes me forgetful of the suicide blueprint
that like your heart never had a failsafe
never could fine the time to liberate itself
from the computer on your shoulders
that eats binary lust like a locust
every time I forget I lie in state for no nation
rendered under a heaven that was never meant to be
for a rapturous assassin who’s life is made of all the unending moments
before the final freedom

Last

I wrote this at home one night after a lengthy conversation with one of my older friends about the past (specifically the New Years party we attended on December 31st 1989 and the hellish debacle that ensued). Four months later I would discover it while looking for something else and realized that I had some music that it would fit. The next day it became Giant.

Shake me
I’m waiting
in your new ark they’re saying
I’m the creature in your sick thing
I’m our future, whoring
when the bad moon in your heart sings
and your wind-up gears start grinding
your teeth when you’re sleeping
I’ll be here
planning my escape

Hit me
I’m bleeding
in your lounger
on your grooming
I’m captain of the wrong team
shut-out
when the bad moon in your heart sings
and your wind-up gears start slipping
you breathe while I dig
the last few feet
miles away

Untitled

I wrote this in the early hours of the morning after watching a film. For the life of me I can’t remember what film it was.

What men are we
that do these things
under the cover of cowardly darkness
feeble to resist the temptation
that of these hands was born newly broken
and blamed on the blind man’s son

Untitled

Of all the things I’ve thrown down while on the road, I remember this piece of crap the most. I wrote it while consuming crepes in Quebec City a day after playing a show there (to all of ten people). It was one of those things that you write when you’ve come to the end of your rope and the only thing that’s keeping you going is the fact that you can’t remember how to stop. From it came Everything Is Automatic and Invasion 1.

Dropped off the face of the earth
Bobby is my hero for that
there is nothing more to say
the gig is up
and it’s time to pay the piper
there’s a kingdom of mice eating pied pie
his flute they use to beat the children
into the ground
frozen from October through to May
love is a summer thing
and summer’s gone away

I have memories of being somewhere with poor reception
and a pool with a three foot deep end
easy to go off
the mice swim casually and drink lite beer
life is like a station wagon that will never know a port
this karma machine only takes quarters
new age soldier

Dropped off the face of the earth
down a hole where Bobby has a shack
with the mice and the kids and the Grinch’s antler dog
nightmares of Yukon Cornelius, Silver and Gold
this ceiling has no paper moon
the mice have got a hold of Mein Kampf
and Bobby is worried
I miss my TV, my lazy boy
myself

Dropped off the face of the earth
I fucked it up
so if I’m done here then let me sleep
even for just a little while
in peace

Untitled

This, like numerous things that I throw down and never look at again, was written while looking out of a bus window at whatever countryside was consuming us at the time. You can only play video games, listen to music, and sleep for so long until you have to find something else to pass the time. Since reading in a moving vehicle makes me sick, I just stare out the window and write. Sometimes, when I look down, I like what I see. Other times all I find is ‘I’m a fuzzy bunny’ repeated two hundred times. Maybe I should try it in the daylight and see what happens.

There is nothing here of worth
worth protecting
worth defending with that impossible life
just a dereliction of duty
since the bright lights of the delivery room
split your eyes to your brain box
years later you still have the same headache
as used to it as you may be
it never goes away
maybe even when you do the big fade out
walking through equations of why’s and hexes
sober for the first time
a watcher waiting for a bank to built
so you can take it down
and in the perfection of that seamless transaction
of bullet promise tension and one hour seconds
you think you recognize yourself
lying on the floor, bleeding from the head
strangely your headache is gone
along with the hammer man in your guts
the guilty impatience and tense years of pacing heart beats
there is nothing there of worth
no currencies save the frivolous necessities
and while you’re standing around looking at all of this
for the first time, for the last of that first
the immortals eat the key to the safe
and you’re fucked

Untitled

One of the worst things about thinking is that, most of the time, you either record it so you can reflect on how much of an idiot you were at the time or you don’t bother and run the risk of losing it forever. Therefore, one must be prepared at all times to drag their ass out of bed and write something down haphazardly in the dark. This, along with many others, was conceived half asleep and intermingled with thoughts of enjoying ice cold milk.

Kept thing
keep the weapons warm
the monster I am
the monster I planned
has lost control
this art of reduction
seems easier now that I’m cold
so secretly devised it’s my outsides
and to ourselves an alibi of sorts
that none should be like this
that weren’t so before it was certain
that there was enough to destroy for charity’s sake
in place of them

Near Fantastica

A song that was written in 1996, Near Fantastica is a cross between Suburbia (musically) and Every Name Is My Name (vocally). It’s popped up now and again over the years (as it’s a favorite of mine) but it never found a niche on any of our records so it’s never been recorded. You never know though.

The pink pills are for your sanity
we are buried in the earth because we can’t beat gravity
and you are still here because you’re an important part of the computer
you are still here because you couldn’t bring yourself to pull the trigger
I am your fuzzy bear
picture everyone in their underwear
I am your fuzzy bear
picture everyone
down in the valley where no one ever sleeps
someone is having a yard sale and man those wings are cheap
you could get away
I think it’s time you took a holiday
I am the only one who cares
and I will always be right here
near fantastica

Dream the dream of your attrition
we have no name for your condition
we will be needing you for a little while longer
you are an important part of the computer
after this mission we will let you go
after this mission we will help you to forget everything you know
I am your fuzzy bear
picture everyone breathing real air
I am your fuzzy bear
picture everyone
down in the valley where the lambs grow into sheep
someone is saying something that’s sinking because it’s too deep
but you could get away
I think it’s time you took a holiday
I am the only one who cares
and I will always be right here
near fantastica

Untitled

The forgotten verse of some song I was working on a couple of years ago. I always liked the last couple of lines so I never got rid of it.

Made a man out of me
a killing machine
your baby’s gonna die ma
your baby’s coming home
you know, they put a man on the moon
simply to prove
that we all need some place to go
where we’re not known

Reliance

I wrote this initially as an encore number that I could perform by myself. Unfortunately, I wrote it in an open tuning on a guitar with three missing strings and that’s just too much of a hassle.

Bet dark
fake smile and wave
I’m guessing that you’re not the same
and there it is
sometimes you get one right
maybe enough to last you for your whole life
reliance

The man I walk as is the man I hate
a fire coal, the prize fighter mold, if the bull is gold
I don’t know, but there it is
I’ve seen you fall, I’ve seen you break
I held your head when the world was sold and calmed the coma
calmed the coma
cause all there is
is reliance

Our trick savior
my black monkey heart
I concede the second part
and there it is

Should’ve Been A Super Villain

The lost track from Underdogs, I wrote this song in England when we were mixing the record. About a week before we were finished Warne asked me if I wanted to record it. Due to the fact that we were pressed for time I decided against it.

I’m ready for tomorrow
the worm’s turned for today
sell the kids to K-Mart
and give yourself away
should’ve been a super villain
live up to your game
a pilot for the parasites
running through your veins
a cool for our connection
a savage for your saint
mileage for the missionary you sent us that we ate
a coma in our camouflage
every second that you wait
is every second that you ain’t

I’m ready for the break out
the worm’s turned for today
take the space between us and kill it off some way
should’ve been a super villain
live up to your game
spin it for the regret
and go out just the same
sleep with eyes of diamond
dream of mining in your brain
if peace can feel so strange

I don’t feel any different
I don’t see any difference
miles all around you
maybe you should break and run

My Life As A Circus Clown

Ah, here’s a treat. I’m glad I landed on this one (and not only because I had forgotten that the handwritten copy located within the book in front of me is the original). This is a song that I wrote way back in 1995. Like Near Fantastica, it too has come up on numerous occasions (the most recent of which was during the demos for Beautiful Midnight). We recorded a version of this song in the fall of 1998 and were quite weirded out by it. The chorus was cool but the verses sounded as if Frank Zappa had been hired to write the theme music for Circus Vargas. I intend to release this song, along with a few others, on a b-sides disk entitled ‘Loser Anthems’ sometime next year (if they’ll let me). The song itself is about my life with a certain girl a long, long time ago. It’s rare for me to capture personal shit in songs with exacting measure. Usually I like to throw up some smoke and mirrors. But this one’s oddly clear. And I like it because of that.

The lights go down
the knife man sleeps
and I wonder where you are
trapped inside a burning mini
and I wonder where you are
you never used a safety net
I never thought that far ahead
I wonder if you think of me
while I wonder where you are

The new girl does your show at eight
and I wonder where you are
the human cannon hesitates
and I wonder where you are
if you can make me disappear a little
can you make me disappear a lot
well I wonder if you think of me
while I wonder if you’re not

The lights go down
the knife man dreams
of missing

Well, that’s enough psyche-warfare for now I figure. There’s stuff in some of these books that I haven’t looked at in years. It’s kind of strange to flip through them and wonder what the hell I was thinking at the time. Do you ever get the feeling that you’re constantly repeating yourself using slightly different terminology? Like you’ve spent your whole life eating Apple Jacks for breakfast only to discover that your parents replaced them with granola and the entire time you thought you were eating a cool cereal. Life’s funny like that sometimes. If you slip up with yourself I’ve got some wool for your eyes. And if you’ve managed to keep it together all this time then you’re a liar. Either way, I’m still going to have to ignore the fact that I’m inherently redundant. That way everything remains somewhat undiscovered and reachable. Long across a great body of water awaits some unknown paradise that should never be found. So why don’t we suit up and go ruin it for ourselves. I’ll row. Thanks for the year.