I love that imaginary people believing in imaginary bearded white men claim freedom while freedom takes it in the arse. Your dog is stupid, your kids are ugly, nobody really loves you and you will die alone in a mountain of debt. Fuck yeah america!
So yesterday I was heading out to work and I saw the cutest little fluffy baby bird in our courtyard. I had made a point to move out of it’s way so it wouldn’t fly away like all birds usually do and I noticed it just kinda stood there and looked adorable.
Upon my return from work I come into the courtyard and the lil bird bird was still just jumping around and walking all over the place making lil birdie chirps. I began to wonder if something was up with it. I don’t know shit about birds and assumed he had gone for a test flight and failed. I filled a growler cap with water and put it outside. It began to get dark and I was wondering how it would fare against the night time. I kept going outside and watching the lil bird jump around. I began to plot on how to make a temporary bird shelter for a tiny flightless bird. Then I thought seek temporary shelter in my beard young birdie you are welcome here
Naturally as any good thought begins to occur there is another one behind it with a big ass knife. What if just like two days of hanging out in my beard or in a make shift tiny flightless bird shelter turn him into a social outcast amongst his bird people? While this all started in some effort to save a birdie what is it I am really trying to do here?
I don’t wanna see a lil fluffy dead birdie on my way to work tomorrow morning. So naturally I attempt to alter the course of nature. Two birds with one stone. Save a bird AND feel great about doing it (I SAVED A BIRD!)
So I thought to my self… you really don’t want that cute fluffy baby bird blood on your hands do you? Are you gonna piss away a chance to help an innocent fluffy birdie? Would saving him sentence him to a life time of social isolation? Does one fuck with baby bird? Does one fuck with nature?
Google search for what to do with baby birds out of nest and away I go. Crash course on baby birds. Shortly it became clear to me that the answer is NO. Do not fuck with baby bird. His mom is nearby and that bird is learning shit. I decided I felt okay with that and decided that this planet probably has a better idea of what’s going on than I do and if that lil bird is meant to go then it’s meant to go.
It was a nice series of thoughts with a sweet conclusion. Some people just save the damn bird. I have an internal battle and decide to do nothing. These ideas cause me to see my place in the world from a greater view point. There is a lot of crazy shit going on right now all over the world and it’s really easy to ignore because once you pay attention it becomes a lot to take in. Humans tend to disrupt stuff. Sometimes out of malice other times with the best intentions. There are many forces at work and even though I complain and express frustration often I am incredibly grateful for each and every second spent complaining and expressing frustration. Death is weird, life is weird, birds are weird. Shit is mad weird yo!
I must admit I came out this morning and looked for a cute fluffy dead bird X_X
Edit – I left for work today and stood there quietly searching all over and I heard a lil shuffling of leaves. Out came the lil birdie! Already a lil taller and less fat than yesterday haha. So cool
Go fuck yourself, that’s what’s new. I been brewing horrible beer and playing the same shitty songs on my banjo. Thankfully the wife has not decided to remove my head and is very supportive… but yeah that keg in the garage sucks my asshole. The worst part is i made it! like having a child and realizing it just isn’t that bright. I’ve been on a rather magnificent spree of bad brews. However I will persist. I will eventually cook up something I can drink without retching after every sip.
He walks like a cowboy, spits like a girl and keeps a well groomed mustache. 17 days ago a man told him to be in the pasta isle of his local Albertson’s at 2:00 pm. While there he would encounter a woman with child purchasing pasta sauce. He was to stab her twice in the stomach and the child once in the neck. He was told his part in this would be important and that if he didn’t succeed he would be killed at 2:00 am the following morning.
I chose to use an Applebee’s steak knife from the previous Friday.
HOLY FUCK YO!!!!!
recently i have caught myself writing long rants on fb and then i stop and paste them into my blog (to be positive that not a single person will read it, am i right … am i right? sheeeeeeit) where i proceed to write more and save it as a draft and then NEVER publish it hahaha which goes to show volumes. the shit felt like content, very meaningful content at that but i think it was more important to just write it down regardless or what it really was. or maybe it was perfectly valid content and I am practicing subconscious self censorship. Fuckin weird.
god damn so i saw two things recently that made feel something for the first time in a while, mainly anxiety but hey man, that shit counts.
first was Behind the Candelabra (I KNOW!!!) I dunno to be honest I thought the shit was gonna be lame. For various reasons. But those fucks killed it. I was balled up in my couch all anxious and grossed out by their toxic relationship. And dying the whole movie every time mr. douglas was on the screen. there was just a bunch of weird shit in the movie and i was not disappointed.
the second was this last recent episode of braking bad. HOLY FUCK! I barely even breathed. For reals just watching all tense and anxious as fuck as walt’s whole shit begins to unravel. The whole show is overwhelming as fuck because this is it, no more after this.
Find myself sitting here this father’s day morning feeling bad for not feeling so bad which ends up just feeling worse? I dunno everything is so fuckin weird. There’s a million words with which to describe how I feel but it is easily summed up to a single point. I wish I would’ve been a better son to him. I was terrible. I blame my mom’s failed attempt to raise me catholic for this post.
Was watching supernatural last night and they tracked down metatron to a lil house jam packed with books. Metatron was played by booger from revenge of the nerds and he really really liked stories.
He made a really good point. Humans can tell stories, he claimed it to be our one good use of everything we’ve been giving. Then he went on about how when you create stories you become like god. When you get to the core of our existence it is primarily based on various stories, the info is all provided for you. But as you well know the real value is in new information.
I am really inspired by those who live life by writing their own tale or joining forces with folks on a similar journey to make for a better tale with new information for a new time.
What if in retelling “the story” they conveniently left out the part about us all being actual gods and replaced it with being the image of god.
This morning while taking a shit and trolling around fb I found a video a friend shared on another friends wall. Cut to me all teary eyed while taking a shit. This is so fucking sad. I can safely say I have never tossed a bottle or anything into the ocean (WTF!!!)
If my mother is indeed planet earth, then I technically just wept over family. Birds been here longer than us, flyin around, shitting on stuff.
I dunno I just found it deeply disturbing, mostly because I feel so helpless and like there’s nothing I can really do.
I do however find the message really inspiring in a way. I am firm believer that anything worth doing will be a bit difficult.
Out of the shit comes the flower
My beer turned out okay. It was a simple yet chuggable low abv beer. Me and the wife took down 30 22′s in close to a week by the half liter.
Made a bunch of frames for gifts this xmas. Here’s some photos from right before they were done. I made matching cards for each frame out of the place holder cards that came with the frames when I bought them. I also gave em a coat with some shiny shit after the photo since they become too shiny to take a photo of once they have been coated.