Chinese Arithmetic
Yes I'm on a boat. Really am. I know the 'saying'; I'm on a boat, but I confess, I don't know what the fuck that is suppoed to mean unless it is a clever sort of abreve to mean I'm going fucking stir crazy and every little thing drives me nuts except the sea and sky and sun and clouds and the harmony they form with each other. Unless 'I'm on a boat' means: WOW, I sure to realize how everyone takes life for granted in such a way it's almost gross and how much most people just really bother me. Is this wrong? i don't know, I will guess more than likely but who am I to judge? The only judge of these things, and what does 'this' or 'that' actually mean is what you tell yourself or let others convince you it means...anyway....It is remarkable how in one locality the 'same' thing(s) can vary so dramatically. Truth. Jimmy Ceb. Under oath. El-bib hey zeus. I thought of that one just now...El-bib hey zeus.
...bucket of robots, bag of drones;
mechanical movements, lucid tones...
those are lyrics from a song Im working on
This is a true story: (again this is a true story)
...A taxi man once picked up a young fella and refused him a ride because of the nature of his destination. When I heard of this I was not pleased to know that such things could happen while attemping to simply cebbit. The trip was too long even though he had the money to pay.. So I guess this guy borrowed an old Ford fiesta from a roomate. a red one with a tape deck. The only tape in the car was The VERY Best of C.C.R. I don't get that..why release THE VERY best of a band..does this now mean THE BEST of was made by some fuck off dill nob whose taste of the best was second only to THE VERY BEST? One of those things that bothers me...how about releasing the VERY WORST...that would selll..music today proves this. THE VERY VERY WORST NOISY SHIT MUSIC YOU HAVE EVER HEARD: YOUR EARS WILL DIE!!! :feating some queer rapper and some lame MC DJ motherfuck...people would buy that, they truly would. i always thought a catchy name for an album would be "DONT BUY THIS ALBUM FUCK FACE!!!!!" curious cats would buy this...
...anyway back to the story about one of the missions this guy took..
It was a warm March night. It was late. There was the smell in the air like what happens when it rains and you're in the street or parking lot and it hasn't rained for a long time. This car was borrowd from a roomate very late, the roomate had been drinking and didn't really know where this fella wanted to know. I hear he assumed the guy wanted to go to the store or something...
None the less, this guy borrowed this Ford Fiesta, red with CCR in the deck. He drove it 220km down the TransCanada highway at a very late hour to Halifax NS. He was going to see some friends and was trying to make a quick delivery as part of his import/export/supply demand type side job he held while in school. The trip started out somewhat shakily as the fellow was driving solo and had been up for tow day without sleep. He was driving with a lot of hazardous material in the car that he did not have a permit for so he was fearfull in a way that he may be caught and this would cause problems in life. This fellow did not happen to care about that howver because he felt he was ahead of this Another factor that helped this situation is that the feeling this would bring of transporting the materials and the joy on the faces and voices of the reciepients was undescribable. The money was nice too.
This guy was fond of Halifax. He dearest friends lived there as did the love of his life. Often on weekends he would travel to Halifax to be with his love. He would take care of business and then they would relax and watch the television with tow of their close friends and order pizza and drink beer. Occaisionally the friends of he and his love could convince him to stay another night.
So this fellow is driving along to Halifax, it is 445 am at this point and it's raining violently. No shit, the song have you ever seen the rain is playing. The fellow was keen on marijuana so he got stoned; very stoned; very very fucking stoned. Sometimes this fellow would smoke several grams by himeself at a time, this was one of those occaisionas. It almost felt like a dream. he was coming near to a toll booth and began feeling really sketched out. I mean really who the fuck cares, it's a fucking toll both not an FBI check point, but when your conception of reality is fairly jaded and has been for sometime these things can seem problematic at times.
The toll booth I think he told me was something like $2.25 and so he paid it and continued on his way. Funny thing as he pulled away he was sure he could hear someone yelling "Hey buddy! you....." the voice faded off and he didn't frankly care. What could it mater what anyone was saying to him? It was nearly 5am, he was driving a Ford Fiesta, he was stoned as fuck, and he had a car full of hazardous materials..life was grand. Life was a trip. a constant fucking party. A time of times.
The drive continued plesantly in the pouring rain down the highway. He decied to roll the window down, the car was getting totally soaked inside, but again, what did it matter? He was not expect at church, nor was he meeting his folks for dinner. He was stoned, it was late; rather the wee hours of the morning. It was that time of day when the night converts to somewhat illumiscent clouds and the twlight fades ever so slowly...
...Finally the sun was peaking from it's methofical sleep and Halifax was in sight,..what to do now? No cell phone, not wanting to wake anyone he did what anyone driving a Ford Fiesta with no power steering and no ABS would do. He drove around Halifax, sort of watching traffick, sort of loving life, sort of planning his next creationg. Sort of doing nothing, at times just sorta cebbint.
What a morning it had became. Sunny, warm, spring was heavy in the air. It was super. He arrived at his loves house looking itired and slept while she had class. That night they met up with the couple they were quite fond of and had some pie and beer. They laughed and told jokes and carried on the way they typically would. Life was good, life was grand. The wheeles of times were in line ever so perfectly. He was alive.
...bucket of robots, bag of drones;
mechanical movements, lucid tones...
those are lyrics from a song Im working on
This is a true story: (again this is a true story)
...A taxi man once picked up a young fella and refused him a ride because of the nature of his destination. When I heard of this I was not pleased to know that such things could happen while attemping to simply cebbit. The trip was too long even though he had the money to pay.. So I guess this guy borrowed an old Ford fiesta from a roomate. a red one with a tape deck. The only tape in the car was The VERY Best of C.C.R. I don't get that..why release THE VERY best of a band..does this now mean THE BEST of was made by some fuck off dill nob whose taste of the best was second only to THE VERY BEST? One of those things that bothers me...how about releasing the VERY WORST...that would selll..music today proves this. THE VERY VERY WORST NOISY SHIT MUSIC YOU HAVE EVER HEARD: YOUR EARS WILL DIE!!! :feating some queer rapper and some lame MC DJ motherfuck...people would buy that, they truly would. i always thought a catchy name for an album would be "DONT BUY THIS ALBUM FUCK FACE!!!!!" curious cats would buy this...
...anyway back to the story about one of the missions this guy took..
It was a warm March night. It was late. There was the smell in the air like what happens when it rains and you're in the street or parking lot and it hasn't rained for a long time. This car was borrowd from a roomate very late, the roomate had been drinking and didn't really know where this fella wanted to know. I hear he assumed the guy wanted to go to the store or something...
None the less, this guy borrowed this Ford Fiesta, red with CCR in the deck. He drove it 220km down the TransCanada highway at a very late hour to Halifax NS. He was going to see some friends and was trying to make a quick delivery as part of his import/export/supply demand type side job he held while in school. The trip started out somewhat shakily as the fellow was driving solo and had been up for tow day without sleep. He was driving with a lot of hazardous material in the car that he did not have a permit for so he was fearfull in a way that he may be caught and this would cause problems in life. This fellow did not happen to care about that howver because he felt he was ahead of this Another factor that helped this situation is that the feeling this would bring of transporting the materials and the joy on the faces and voices of the reciepients was undescribable. The money was nice too.
This guy was fond of Halifax. He dearest friends lived there as did the love of his life. Often on weekends he would travel to Halifax to be with his love. He would take care of business and then they would relax and watch the television with tow of their close friends and order pizza and drink beer. Occaisionally the friends of he and his love could convince him to stay another night.
So this fellow is driving along to Halifax, it is 445 am at this point and it's raining violently. No shit, the song have you ever seen the rain is playing. The fellow was keen on marijuana so he got stoned; very stoned; very very fucking stoned. Sometimes this fellow would smoke several grams by himeself at a time, this was one of those occaisionas. It almost felt like a dream. he was coming near to a toll booth and began feeling really sketched out. I mean really who the fuck cares, it's a fucking toll both not an FBI check point, but when your conception of reality is fairly jaded and has been for sometime these things can seem problematic at times.
The toll booth I think he told me was something like $2.25 and so he paid it and continued on his way. Funny thing as he pulled away he was sure he could hear someone yelling "Hey buddy! you....." the voice faded off and he didn't frankly care. What could it mater what anyone was saying to him? It was nearly 5am, he was driving a Ford Fiesta, he was stoned as fuck, and he had a car full of hazardous materials..life was grand. Life was a trip. a constant fucking party. A time of times.
The drive continued plesantly in the pouring rain down the highway. He decied to roll the window down, the car was getting totally soaked inside, but again, what did it matter? He was not expect at church, nor was he meeting his folks for dinner. He was stoned, it was late; rather the wee hours of the morning. It was that time of day when the night converts to somewhat illumiscent clouds and the twlight fades ever so slowly...
...Finally the sun was peaking from it's methofical sleep and Halifax was in sight,..what to do now? No cell phone, not wanting to wake anyone he did what anyone driving a Ford Fiesta with no power steering and no ABS would do. He drove around Halifax, sort of watching traffick, sort of loving life, sort of planning his next creationg. Sort of doing nothing, at times just sorta cebbint.
What a morning it had became. Sunny, warm, spring was heavy in the air. It was super. He arrived at his loves house looking itired and slept while she had class. That night they met up with the couple they were quite fond of and had some pie and beer. They laughed and told jokes and carried on the way they typically would. Life was good, life was grand. The wheeles of times were in line ever so perfectly. He was alive.
posted by DG at 9/09/2009 11:09:00 a.m.
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