A Typical Thought String Of Mine

Recorded on October 27th 2010, between 9.30am and 10am. Subject is driving to work.

Nuts. Nuts! Why's there so much traffic at this hour!?
Damn it. God damn it.
Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Suck My Kiss is playing on the CD player.
Oh, haha, I get it. He says suck my kiss, but you can easily replace 'kiss' with 'dick'. 'Your mouth was made to suck my dick'. Clever!
Ah, crap. I'm gonna be stuck in this car for the next 30 minutes.
There is no God.
But I'm Catholic.
Whatever, I'm just repeating a cliche, shut it, conscience.
Maybe Stephen Hawking was right, there is no God.
Hmm, but a few years ago he ALSO said that the universe existed in such a way as to allow for the existence of God.
This guy has a forked tongue. Like a snake. Stupid paraplegic.
Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Parallel Universe is playing on the CD player.
Oh, sidewinder. Yeah, that's a snake too!
Moves sideways...uh, no, weaves from side to side to move forward across sand dunes in the desert. No traction and all that.
But it's kind of hot in the desert. I know reptiles cannot regulate their own body heat, so sidewinders need the sun to push their bodies into activity, but I don't think that 'more is better' in this case. You'd lose too much moisture. So maybe it only travels in the mornings and evenings.
Horn blast from nearby truck.
Oh fuck. Ok, it was nothing. Nothing to do with me.
Anyway.
Hmm, dinosaurs were also reptiles.
What's that dinosaur with the sail on its back? Dimetrodon. So the sails on its back helps it to gain more heat by increasing the surface area of skin exposed to the morning sunlight. It probably means it was more active than other dinosaurs during that time. It would probably stand perpendicular to the sun's rays in order to maximise light and heat absorption in the mornings.
Oh yeah, there's another dinosaur that does something similar. Plates on its back. Stegosaurus, I think. That one could move its plates up and down, to catch the most rays. Heheh, sunbathing dinosaurs. With suntan lotion, an umbrella, sunglasses, beach towel. Heheheh.
Didn't it have spikes on its tail for self-defense? Yeah, it did. So the spikes were probably made of bone.
Ugh, bone sticking out of your flesh. I wonder how that would work without you bleeding to death. How would your skin cover your body while still letting certain bones stick out?
Looks at fingernails.
Yeah, I guess that makes sense.
Oh, i'm almost at the office already. Awesome.

The soundtrack of your death

Imagine that you're on your deathbed. You've lived a long, eventful life. You've made your peace. The body you've inhabited for the past 8 or so decades has finally worn out. You're ready to move on. Fuck this world, fuck it all, I'm gonna go now and I'm not sorry to be gone. Y'all behave now. Or not. I don't care.

At this point, would it not be EXTREMELY COOL if someone (or yourself, it doesn't matter really) played one of your favourite songs to serenade you into the afterlife? Imagine drawing your last breath just as Red Hot Chili Peppers' By The Way comes to its final refrain, its echoes fading away as consciousness slips from you like a soft blanket sliding off the bed...

In that vein, here are the top five songs that I want to listen to just before I die, in no particular order:

1. Switchfoot - Dare You To Move
2. Tina Turner - Simply The Best
3. Aerosmith - I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing
4. Lifehouse - Take Me Away
5. Dashboard Confessional - Don't Wait

Any one of these songs would be an appropriate requiem. I know it.

The many uses of face-to-face communication.

If you want conversation, we can talk.
If you want a sympathetic ear, let's get in the car, I'll drive, then we can talk.
If you want an opinion, be open-minded about whatever I'm going to say, and we can talk.
If you want me to know you, tell me about yourself as we talk.
If you want to know me, listen and observe as I talk.
If you want me to know what you're feeling, the direct approach works best as we talk.
If you want to know what I'm feeling, ply me with alcohol, and be prepared for long pauses as I struggle to get over my natural reticence about letting others know exactly how I think and what I think about...and just let me talk.

The unwashed masses are among us.

This is to all of you who use public washrooms and yet somehow gain amnesia when it comes to flushing:

You have no place in the civilised world. I hope you get rabies, you and your ilk. If you defecate like a dog, then die like a dog.

You are entitled to yell at me if it's my fault.

Unless, of course, it's not.


And if it isn't but you insist that it is, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND EVISCERATE YOU. I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB AND FEED YOUR BODY TO THE CROWS. I WILL HUNT DOWN EVERY ONE OF YOUR DIRECT LIVING RELATIVES AND DESTROY THEM. I WILL HUNT DOWN EVERY LAST ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS OR ASSOCIATES WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT YOU, AND OBLITERATE THEM FROM EXISTENCE. I WILL ENSURE THAT THERE WILL BE NO ONE ON THIS GOD-FORSAKEN EARTH TO EVER, EVER MOURN YOUR PASSING.

I tolerate no false witness.

Epiphany #4

I can't change who I am. The best I can do is suppress the negative parts of me through forced introspection and rationalisation.

Having a camera does not make you a photographer.

I admit, I'm addicted to Facebook. It's a lot of fun finding out what your friends are up to without the hassle of talking to them, or, God forbid, feigning interest in maintaining an actual conversation. It's kind of like reality TV: you satisfy your voyeuristic tendencies of what goes on in other people's lives without the need to actually get involved. Hooray for Facebook!

One thing I've noticed is the upcoming trend of people attempting their hand at amateur photography, then putting them up on Facebook for all to see, and comment on. With the advent of cheaper digital cameras and built-in cameras in today's mobile phones, nearly everyone can snap pictures with ease, anytime, anywhere.

I generally do not have a problem with people putting up photos and adding their own comments to the photo. Heck, I completely understand the appeal of camwhoring. The vanity aspect of having people commenting on the photos you put up is also totally understandable. Something caught your eye, a thought occurred to you concerning that image, you snap a photo and add your addendum. Completely normal.

What I cannot abide, though, are the poser amateur photographers. This subset of people run around everywhere with their digital handhelds, or, if they splurged, DSLRs and go on some kind of photo-snapping spree. They hang the cameras around their necks (making them great mugging targets) or otherwise tote their DSLRs with oversized flash modules in these boxy cloth bags, snapping anything and everything that captures their fancy.

What separates the posers and the actual, earnest amateurs aren't their techniques, surprisingly. The posers read enough and know enough about depth, focus, lighting and other photography jargon that I can't bear to look up. What separates the posers from the real McCoys/amateurs are their subjects.

People who are actually interested in photography try to capture stories in their pictures. The idea that 'a picture is worth a thousand words' is something that they adhere to. Good pictures evoke thoughts and get people thinking about what the photographer is trying to say. There is real meaning behind such photos, and the best ones are those that describe the world and the human condition in both subtle and aggressive tones.

Posers, on the other hand, snap pictures of things they think would look good. There's nothing wrong with the photos they take, visually. They use camera effects like foreground focus, lens flare and whatnot. The problem here is that the only thoughts they evoke run along the lines of,"oh, I like the angle of that shot" and "that is a nice colour!" and "good closeup", and the automatic "that is a nice shot. Good job!". Notice how all they can do is describe the photo. Nothing else. It doesn't make them think, it doesn't make them feel. It's just a photo.

When I look at such photos, I get thoughts like "boring" and "so?" and "huh?" and "it's a flower. Great. Good for you. You're definitely winning a Pulitzer for this" and "it's a picture of a pair of Crocs. Purple Crocs. Oh my GOD. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU PRETENTIOUS ASSWIPE."

They are airheads. They are fishing for compliments. They are wasting their time, and yours.