Thursday, December 22, 2005

Thought for the Holidays: December 22, 2005

We fail the children constantly. We fail the child in each of us that millions toiled to give the chance to be alive and to LIVE. We betray the entire concept of child and we betray those very real ones whom we ourselves have the audacity to bring forth into our confusion and laziness. Even the best of us do this in ways that remain as if pre-denied and invisible. Happy Holidays!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Thought of the Moment: December 20, 2005

Cluck cluck.
(followed by darting, lightning-fast peck at something crawling along sink edge)

Thought of the Night: December 20, 2005

What, again, is the nature of this overriding need we all exhibit that most anything across the spectrum of human activity -from meaningful, perhaps even complex, societal paradigms on one end all the way along to vacuous, pervasive, ubiquitous modes of distraction and delusion on the other- can fulfill, even if only fleetingly? What sort of appetite is this? Constant? Yes. Primary? Perhaps. Underrated? It would seem so. The word ritual springs to mind...

Monday, December 19, 2005

Thought of the Day: December 19, 2005

A lack of perspective shall be what destroys us.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005


Now that I have been offered a connection to the World Wide Web, I have happily accepted to partake in the form of communication called weblogs (though my other options are somewhat limited given my confinement and ungainly physigonomy). I was introduced to this practice by a rather abrupt chap, posessing an odour not quite as foul as my first house guest (see previous post). He has decided upon the nom de plume, for reasons known only to him, Blog Monkey. The details of our first encounter need not be sketched out at this time, suffice it to say we became fast friends, at least from where I sit, and after some queries on my part, that seemed lost on him, and strange demands of future promises on his, he provided me with a laptop computer, which, as the name suggests, conveniently rests quite securely and comfortably upon my crossed-legs. He also allows me internet access. I took naturally to the keyboard and now here I am, with you, whomever you are, perhaps no one is listening? (No matter, it is as if now I were that radio upstairs that I have lived with since before I could support my own enormous head, chattering away to anyone or no one without possiblity of ever having a sign that I am being understood.)And here I shall stay until fate throws me another curve pitch and I find myself hurtling off down another serendipitous avenue, meeting yet another facet of the Universe and Its mysteries, all from the confines of my trusty sink (have sink, will travel?). Please read something from Blog Monkey's blog at (this fulfills one of the promises he made me swear to). I have placed a link on the right hand side of this page so that you may find him with the click of your mice (yet another of the 27 promises to check off my list already!). He believes himself rather drole, so please resist your fear of his evident viciousnes and try to laugh alongside him from time to time, or at least when he is within earshot.

Events As Of Late (or: a look into my world)

So I'm sitting in my sink the other day, as I have done for most of my oft-sited, unnatural existence, when suddenly there is a knock at my door. This was a rare occurrence indeed, unique one might say, in that it had never happened before. Having never learned to walk, I called out to whomever it may be not to be shy and please, please do come in (though since I have no human vocal chords it probably didn't come across quite as comprehensibly as I make it sound – and though I cannot speak, I can type at around 70 wpm; so we should have no difficulty in communicating, you and I, dear reader). Perhaps this is the perfect moment to pause and explain why I did not rise to answer the caller myself. You see, I've been in this sink since I was but a sinkchick, my birth-mother having died while bathing me one autumn morn, collapsing to the kitchen floor where she has lain ever since. Over the years, in the different qualities of light that the changing seasons call their own, I have witnessed her slow but inevitable decay as she returns to the cosmos, never averting her tender gaze from where I sit, no matter how many times I have begged her to do so, not even when I wake to find her staring at me in the middle of the night bathed in the harsh, revealing light of the moon...

We've had many stimulating conversations she and I, or rather, she has listened intently as I have worked myself into a benign frenzy over various subjects that “come to me” from the faint voice of the radio she had left tuned in upstairs in her bedroom before her unexpected demise. There is a lack of clairty to what I hear, my only access to the happenings of the world beyond my porcelain abode, but it is enough to stimulate me intellectually; and using my imagination and the power of free association I have come to know an outside world, as subjectively delineated as it may be, that seems to me to be full of both pain and wonder and endless potential! I had thought that soon this box would be my only companion as my mother completed her return to the ether and that I would have to be content with having inner monolgues until death comes for me as well (luckily, for the time being, the insects that I feed upon seem plentiful and water is always close at hand). That was my fear until today, but then, after all these long years, as I had begun to recount, someone came knocking at my door.

I believe that my clucking must have sounded sufficiently inviting, for the stranger did eventually begin to cross the threshold, hesitantly at first, craning his neck inside, obviously in an effort to determine exactly who or what was attempting communication with him. I seized this moment and called to him again, come in, come in my unexpected friend, let us meet and begin, if it be at all possible, an aquaintanceship. And at this unintelligible prompting, he stepped into the halflight that is my world. I have to admit, I must have presented an intriguing sight! From what I know of the outside world, it would seem that a sinkchicken is something of a rarity, no mention of any others has been made by any DJ or announcer or talk show guest on the radio above. Mouth agape, he approached me, not even noticing that he helped my mother on her journey to nothingness by walking heedlessly upon her fragile bones, pulverizing them to a fine powder that quickly mixed with the dust of her flesh and organs and finally, yes finally, helped her to look away from me, forever. Goodbye mother.

Having committed this mixed blessing, he stopped just there, where my mother had fallen, and studied me. Now, I have not had any visitors with whom he could be compared but his appearance seemed to me somewhat...unkempt. He smelled horrific, though his odour offering up as it did a change to my olfactory landscape, was strangely satisfying. His clothing looked as my mother's had before it itself had crumbled from her frame and his skin hung loosely from wherever it found itself exposed to the elements, especially around his jowls. He rubbed his eyes with both hands and then looked me up and down before uttering but two words: “Well, shit!”. He seemed disinclined to begin discourse with me and after a period of further staring began instead to busy himself with rifling through the drawers and cupboards in the vicinty. He seemed to find nothing to his satisfaction until he came upon a bottle in the “adults only” cupboard up high above the refrigerator. This discovery caused him to cry out with glee and quickly he downed the brown liquid, throwing the bottle when he'd finished just past my head where it shattered against the wall, raining shards down upon my frail person and into my sink. I managed to avoid all but the most minor of wounds and promptly cleared my home of as much of his joy-inspired shrapnel as I could. Just then he froze, standing perfectly still for a moment as if an idea had come to him or a rather trickly problem that he wished to work out before moving an inch further. His deliberations ended with a loud belch. Then he vomitted. His discharge contained a fair quantity of what was most likely blood. He started to moan, clenching his stomach and stumbled off into another room where I heard him crashing about into mother's worldy posessions, now wailing in what was evidently severe and utter agony until with a final, underwhelming thud, silence returned. Oh dear mother! The timing of your absolute departure could not be more ill-conceived! How I long for your hollow-eyed presence! The discussions we could undertake! This strange turn of events in the quiet tedium of my existence begs for analysis and critical understanding! Mother, dear mother! O but you had lingered long enough! Be at peace at last, you who brought me forth so!

Several days have since passed and I fear that this potential friend has met a not dissimilar fate as befell my mother. You would think this would be a mournful turn of events but no, for at least now I have hope! Hope that there will be others to come! Others like him, and hopefully others very much unlike him, beings who will startle me with the brilliant impossibilty of their most singular qualities! And so here I sit, picking the occasional missed piece of glass from my basin, and somtimes from my tender white underside, remembering mother and listening to the faint whispers coming down to me from her bedroom above the kitchen, whispers of a complex and surprising world right over there, just beyond the threshold of my now open door...

Monday, December 12, 2005

Happiness is a lie

It's really only spelled with one "p"! No joke! Think of all the time you've wasted, that you'll never get back by the way, having taken that extra moment to include that extra, mendacious "p"!!! Good god! How many times as a child in some classroom or other did you use it while writing a description of your xmas holidays, summer vacation, best grade 3 friend with whom you enjoyed climbing all over them monkey bars!? You've been duped big time! No wonder you've been so unhapy! Time to blow the lid of this etymological conspiracy and enjoy true HAPINESS! Come on, come on get HAPY! Get ready for the Judgment Day! (And yes, that means it's also really pronounced "hay-pee-ness", all part of the lie it was and a small price to pay to live in the PRESENCE OF INEXORABLE TRUTH!)