Well yesterday, I went downtown, and wandered aimlessly for about 4 hours, without actually knowing where I was, mostly in an attempt to waste time for the Homo-Hop opened.

I then found myself in Cawthra Park for the first time. The sky was very over cast and looking like it would rain any second, and the wind was cool on my skin. The reason I went in was that I had spotted the bright red of a silk climber amongst the trees, and having seen this before felt I should stop and watch her perform. As I got closer I realized it was an instructor teaching someone how to climb the red fabric, I sat and watched for a minute by the fountains, as the pigeons gathered around expecting food. They moved in patterns, one would came close as the others crowded on a drinking fountain across from me, and then another would come and waltz with the bird and switch places. I found myself paying more attention to the birds than the master and pupil with silk. It was rather peaceful, the water providing a distraction to the song of the city, that constant hum and rumble. I then got up and walked along the path to the stones. This was my first time actually seeing the AIDS memorial. I am not sure I can describe what I felt as I slowly moved among these grave markers, examining the names, so permeate and forever in the stone. I was filled with a sense of a dark history, welling up from the depths of my mind, the words, "I am as you will be." Kept playing through my head, I was terrified, and yet could not tear my eyes from this testament to suffering. I must tell you that I have never met anyone who has AIDS or is even HIV+, I all I know is what I have been told from research and movies. To actually see these names, lined up like solders in a senseless war, it chilled me to the bone. Perhaps the worst part are those names without birth dates, people who had no past, and met their end with no one knowing where they came from. Or, perhaps it was the empty places, the pieces of paper that are placeholders for more names, the incompleteness of the site itself, the fact that there is room for at lest 3 more stones to stand. It was too much for me. I retreated to the water and feathers, the crimson silk. Yet, even as I was reeling from this surreal horror, the park was still a refuge, a place of peace. the dogs still played free in the grove. The climbers still chatted away in a spicy language I do not know. The children still laughed in the playground. The rock doves still danced on the edge of the fountain. This monster may lay in wait, seeking a time to strike, but life goes on.

I got up and left that place of peace and solitude, knowing more, and feeling fulfilled. I had found something great and wonderful in the shade of the trees, in the heart of the village in the city of gray. Something I was not looking for but needed.

-Alexander J Curley

When one makes a peanut butter and jam sandwitch, one must be very careful how they go about doing so.

First the jam is applied to the bread on one slice. Then after all teh jam has been whiped off on the bread, one then applies the peanut butter, not before.

There are two reasons for this; it stops cross cantamiation of jame and peanut butter, and jam is much easier to get off the knife than peanut butter.

The focus on my digicam is totaly off, I need a new one. >.<

Well, easter has come and gone. Such a happy holiday it has everything hollywood could want. Death, torture, whores, rage, drinking, family fights, small children, chocolate, and bunnies. Really makes you think culture is smoking some really good shit, what with all the random sybolizum flying around.

Aparently the easter bunny origonates from a the Hare. The Hare is known as a go between for higher powers and earth.An animal both hero and martyr. Represents the moon, lunar sun, alike to the lamb. A weak struggeling figure, that is ready to sacrifice childishness for teh sake of devolpement Osirus was clothed in teh guise a rabbit, and then torn to peices and thrown in the nile to ensure the seasons. The little fuzzies are also said to be reincarnations of Ali by the Shi'ite peasents of Anatolia, and thus should not be eaten. And the Bodhisattva apeered as a Hare in India and sacrificed itself by leaping intop the flames. The hare dies in order to be born, like the moon. The rabbit is tainted by it's two main qualities, the lucky and unlucky in almost all cases. The rabvbit hops from one side to the other. The most inocent sinner, and most perverse saint. The Celts raised them as pets but never ate them. In the end it becomes a symbol of puberty and is watched over by the moon.


Well that was long winded. ^_^ In the end I have concluded that the easter bunny is a basterdization of christ leaving his childhood as a man, and growing to become a god. Yay religion, it doesn't need to make sense, but it would be much nicer if that were focused on instead of the "passions" that Mel Gipson enjoys way too much. And now to explain the obious and not so obious meaning of eggs and chocloate!

Well the egg is said to be the holder of life, teh protector of unborn possibility, thus very good a symbol for the origin of easter which makes much more sense as a festival for spring and a turing point for teh wheel. Saddly I havent found anything on chocolate, but I think it adds a bit of a sexual undertone, that the eggs and rabbits imply all by themselves, spring is in the air, mating season and birth begin again. With winter gone, we can once again enjoy the joys of life and the world. But choclate can be as bitter as it is sweet, and must be watched for too much makes one sick. So in essance go forth, have fun, but be warry that there are always prices to be paid.

In general, the holiday itself seems slightly misguided, being that it is one of teh defining points of one of the worlds largest religions. Perhaps to make it more acessable to the masses, by concentraing on the lesson learned more than the betrayal, but never teh less, blood is always requirerd for change, for new thinsg are expenisve. Meh, but it shouldn't mean my personal space be invaded for loud visiting family memebers and being made guilty over not wanting them around.

Best not tov think about it and focas on what I have to do. First things first, I need to find out where I'm going, this may require a spiritual jumpstart on otherworldly forces, or just someone tricking me into seeeing a sign, but untill them I'm in Limbo, spining my wheels and watching people jump out of plains and ruining there lives and living, and getting hurt, and setting up for big falls. It makes me just want to hold every single one of them and tell them I knwo what will ahppen and it will be ok, they just need to be careful. I love everyone else, and hate myself because of this, I'm too much of a romantic and am inexorably atracted to tragic figures, while I don't even think of nmy future, not knowing where I'm going and I'm proably in a worse state than most of teh peopel I want to help. I really am unreliable unless you know how to use me.

I really do want to be used, one of my greatest dreams is simply making someone wonderiously happy. I want to be the bug they squash and and smash to get what they need, and then thrown aside like trash after they are done taken what they need. I want to infect teh world with teh poison of ideas, the insidious knowlage taht they can do what tehy want and should do what will amke them feel good.

Let me be your dirty needle, the quick fix that changes you forever even after you leave me in the gutter to taint someone else.

Respect the delicate ecology of your dellusions.