Sunday dreamin'

My grandfather used to talk to himself, a lot. I could never make out what he was saying. All I heard was a steady stream of whispers mixed in with his breath. As a kid I worried that it might be a family trait. I do talk to myself sometimes but I'm still not as bad as Grandpa Chance.

For instance, when I'm writing I often speak the words out loud first. Take the sentence I just wrote, and the one I'm writing now. I said them both out loud as I composed them. I'm quiet now but actually, by the time I typed out the first 3 words of this sentence, they were no longer true. I thought the words "I'm quiet now" decided to write them without speaking them so they would be true in real time, but as I typed them I spontaneously said them out loud and muttered "typed it out" while I typed that. There's a peak into my head, in case you wanted one but were afraid to ask.

And, while I'm on the subject, I might as well admit that I did mutter to myself this morning, something to the effect of, "Humans are a violent, greedy, predator species; carnivores who fancy having a unique, divine nature and personal relationship with a god who likes them better than everybody else and doesn't mind if they torture and/or kill the rest of his family."

It is Sunday morning and I am off to a rocking start. Minutes after I got online I found myself watching a video of soldiers in the Islamic Army inspecting a helicopter they just downed and executing the sole survivor, probably a Blackwater contractor. Then I watched Anna Nicole's funeral procession in the Bahamas, and videos of several other totally unrelated events, although their disparate nature actually underscores just how prone we humans are to self-undoing. My ricochet tour brought me back to the question I pondered aloud in the shower earlier this morning. Can we, as a species, survive our own precocious narcissism long enough to wake the fuck up? Then I found the following gritty view of hope. Now I'm off for second cup of coffee while I've still got a chance of a day. Bon matin, mon ami!

END OF CONFLICT

Jed's Other Poem

Even if you don't like poetry you might like this video poem or, if you've already seen it, might enjoy seeing it again. It's that kind of thing. It was made by a very interesting guy named Stewart. The music is by Grandaddy. Warning. Their site opens with music.

"Jeddy-3 the humanoid was assembled in the kitchen out of spare parts. Before Jed's system died he wrote poems. Poems for no one." more history here.

Jed's Other Poem (Beautiful Ground)

Jimmy

Jimmy Mouse stayed at the Hotel Nevada last night. I didn't discover him until late yesterday afternoon, too late in the day to release him, too cold. Temperatures what they are right now, it would be a big drag to suddenly find yourself homeless at the end of the day. It's supposed be sunny through the weekend though so he'll have a running start on finding a nice comfy new home by the meadow pond. We found our last guest at the hotel dead in the corner as though he were trying to dig himself out when he expired. It was very sad. We forgot the lid was down. We're very careful now. Once the trap is set we check it at least once a day. We don't want innocent creatures to suffer. We like happy endings for our guests, like Fatty Leland. Jimmy Mouse did okay too, although he didn't seem all that eager to face the big world. I don't blame him. He's a pretty tiny fellow. I hated to see him go but, as I understand it, field mice don't do well in captivity.

Goodbye Jimmy Mouse and Good Luck!

Books I found at the second hand store today.

This one I bought. This one I just photographed the cover.

Because it's soothing

Ragged Feather did a nice claymation to the Beatles song, Because. It's a 02:45 massage for the frazzled psyche.

Because

Life without replay

I find the bank of TV monitors in front of the stair steppers at the gym incredibly annoying. We canceled the service and gave our set away a few years ago so I don't have any tolerance for replay after replay after replay, changing only when there's another clip or program to take its place, the endless foie gras for the brain, that is television. The brain drain. Outside the window it was snowing and a couple of cows were standing over a very young calf sheltering it from the storm. It's sad knowing what they don't, that probably by the time summer arrives that calf's loving mother will be hanging by her back legs with a slit throat.

Holy shit!

Not long ago I started getting forwards from a mystery source but they sent the emails properly (Bcc'd) so I checked out one of the links. To date, they are almost always excellent. I did a little polking around and seems the sender lives nearby. Perhaps we've met, but I don't remember. That remains an open question about which you may hear more later. Anyway, here's one of the links I recently received. It's really impressive. Even though you, being very hip, have undoubtedly encountered some of this information before, it's all put together here in really Big Picture. I highly recommend you watch it. Learn a little bit about the world that does not yet exist because that's the world we are living in.

SHIFT HAPPENS.

Foie Gras, you are what you eat

Here's a little good news. The grocery chain Giant Eagle announced today that it will no longer sell foie gras in any of its 230 stores! They join Whole Foods as well as the state of California, the city of Chicago, and 16 nations worldwide that have already banned this barbaric practice.

Sir Roger Moore volunteered to narrate a documentary for PETA revealing the cruel facts of foie gras production. Give it a watch. It's a lesson in compassion and, as we all know, compassion is food for the soul.

The hidden lives of ducks and geese.