The Link

Being able to accomplish a bridge between these two is more difficult than it seems. I mean when you think of it, sex & intimacy should go hand in hand. Things like the sun and being warm, or smiling and being happy. Well, I was finally able to connect the two, sex and intimacy, and that link brings more difficulties than benefits. I mean, as moral as it sounds, can you imagine the evenings shared with someone and sex was committed. A piece of my heart becomes invested in that person, and thats damaging. When woman mention things like I couldn't stand him, but the sex was great. It's a paradox for me because, I could not detach my emotions from those particular emotions and for most, it's easy to do that.

Chose your means

Thats right, if you had the clear cut option, where decision one and two lie right before you... which miserable desire would you love suffer? The choice where you get to embrace and enjoy a monogamous relationship, one in which you love that person whole heartedly. She reciprocates that love and you two have a union in which only death could separate. Unfortunately, you make love just as often as the lunar eclipse. That random spectacular evening becomes the talk of the bedroom for the next week, yet the two remain to avoid the simple sanction that brought that magic.

The other choice is become somewhat like Hugh himself. Delight and appreciate the female specimen for what it is. I mean, we were put on this earth outnumbered, yet we still posses these traits that want want want. If there was intention to have one and only one, maybe we would have outnumbered women and a significant choice would have been taken seriously. It's not that way though, so yeah, enjoy your cake, eat it too and have some of someone else's. Then we're sick, stuck ejaculating and feeling empty. The coldness overwhelms you at night with a bedroom full of pussy. So the real dilemma is... pick your demise. 

Words to occur

ALMOST could not think of anything to write. I feel as if I am becoming a slave to express myself daily to readers that are for the most part, anonymous. Yet, I continue to progress word by word to reflect upon you my solitary thoughts. I almost took it there,  you know the Obama threats, but I already called that out a couple blogs ago. No need to revisit the tale of revolution that is overdue to occur.

Then I thought I'd cast thoughts out about halloween, but it hasn't occurred yet. I'm sure a discussion will render itself visible upon the experiences this weekend. 

So, what is the subject? Well, the subject is words. I sat here for twenty or so minutes and tried to think of a poem, or something to even write about on the bloody blog. Nothing. I listened to music, folded clothes and then said fuck it. I can't think of shit. All of a sudden I thought of a piece and rhymed it with every word I could think of that rhymed with boring, since that was my mood at the time. Well I was happy to finally write again, (sigh of relief) and I'm on here too... 

It didn't even take wine or liquor... now thats progress.

What dreams

Ever return back to reality so exceptionally pleasant you did not know what to do with yourself? A dream or vision that appeals to truth or factual existence really can touch your soul. Often we have this dream and dread waking; hate the fact that our conscious life is no where close to what we have visioned or fantasized. 

Last night I have a spectacle of a dream. One that was the dream of all dreams... don't ask because I won't tell. All I know was I was smiling, and living in a realm where space and time possessed an agreement to subside. Lately, my dreams have caused me to be restless, but today, was different. Not different where colors and rainbows... nor i was the potentate of pussy. I touched areas I almost have forgotten and the movie playback it possessed was enlightening and refreshing. Ever wake up smiling?

Five kinds of poems that aren't SUPER LAME

((This was a subject of another blog on my hubpages, I wanted to share this on here too))

Poetry is a subject that isn't favored by many. Often people LOVE to read, but that does not mean they'd love to read a piece of poetry. Not so much that they don't like it rhymed or unrhymed, metaphors or iambic pentameter. Sometimes it just goes over their heads and they don't have the patience to truly soak in what they read.

That's one a lot of people choose to not indulge. Another reason is the cliche that all poetry is love or soft. Not true. The latest book that was co-authored by me touches 1 maybe 2 love subjected pieces. The types of poetry that are interesting and are opposite on the super lame spectrum (super lame, what a phrase.) Pieces that talk about nothing but say a lot, you know...the REALLY over your head pieces. They stimulate your mind and cause you to read them again, and even look up certain words...don't you enjoy a challenge?

A piece that has internal rhyme. Poetry bores me when every piece i read in someones saved library is the same format. AB AB AB AB or AA BB AA BB, mix it up...have fun, make your work colorful not patterned.

A revolutionary poem is always great. One that praises change and triumph. We have been silent on the revolutionary sense; therefore, a piece calling for a difference, pointing out societies flaws is good.

Everyone loves a misleading poem. A poem in which you describe the hell out of a situation, personifying something in your life or in life, and then at the end it refers to something else. People always respond well to those types of pieces just don't overload them to an audience.

The last is a general one, you can't go wrong writing about "Love, Sex & Hate" that is also the title of my upcoming book. Unfortunately, that is all society is truly concerned with, the drama's of those three subjects, anything else and you're a minority in the preference.

It's just that type of day.

Yeah, it's just one of those days. You know, three quarter full glass of red wine, desk lamps, mellow music, or a non-climatic movie. The ease yourself into sleep type of day, where activity subsides and motivations become null and void. 

Paint your bathroom type of day or reorganize the album collection. Relax on the couch type of day, but sleep does not overwhelm you, instead half open eyes aimlessly gaze at movies never released dating back six or seven years. The rainfall massages your mind, a putty becomes of it, neither caring or bearing to endure anymore stress. This is the type of day where plans made earlier become forgotten, uninspiring or lacking interest. You witness gray in the sky and a moist pavement, it is then you understand that not only do you see gray, you begin to feel gray. Whatever shade is up to you, but nonetheless dark or light your gray is the summation of your day. 

I saw SAW five

Saw V was not that good.

Words for the day.

EMOtional Hangover

"You promised we’d always be friends… yeah well I lied,"

A great statement concerning the situation between two individuals. One person seeing the solution to his trouble by total deletion, erase the memory of her from his life. With the hopes that a simple song, word, smell or movie can not remind him of the total agony of not having her. And what does she want? To know friends is what they'll be, that vibe, that interaction where the former elation and relation is denoted. The possibility of friends seems ever so distant, where phone calls, text, and emails all evolve to obsolete. Smiling photos become burning pins through the bottom right of his heart.

I don’t need you as my friend, as my friend I can’t kiss you, as your friend I cant touch you, like this… as your friend I am nothing. And if I shall have you, I relinquish every ounce of effort I took to diminish you from my spirit. Touching the tip of an iceberg for the time and quality of time I’d like to spend with you…

Man, I hate the phrase just as much as I hate using it, because ultimately it is a lie. I don’t want to hear about your days, your job, your love interest, your enjoyed time without me. I want no part, until I have had the time to extinguish the fire that burned inside of my soul. I’d rather sit alone coping with a violin in the dimly lit cool October night. Serenading melancholy thoughts to dissipate in the air, or to be burned from the moons glow. Regardless it’s not easy to cope.

Why falling in love with a poet is a bad idea.

Okay, well here are my reasons for being in love with a poet is not so bright. And you can not use these against me, because like Common said, "I got my side card baby I'm a (mechanic)." He chose to say actor, I haven't made it there yet, that's in progress. 

So, why not? It would be romantic, wouldn't it? Well yea, but unless the artist is able to detach oneself from their work, and often we're not. Then you're setting yourself up for pain. I mean think about it, We, us poets, use words to convey, display, paint, narrate, describe moods, setting, emotions and observations. A talented artist is able to construct ones work from the tiniest prick of motivation, turning a smile into "she loves me," and a gesture into, "I want the world to end." Words are our best friend, and words are our own enemy. So, a poet can tell you everything in the world, things you only find in...oh yeah POEMS. 

So, its a deadly game to become involved within, especially the hopeless romantic ones, (I've evolved). What can only be worse than falling for a poet, is a poet falling for a poet. Then you've created word war III. Misinterpreted emotions, confused feelings, words with words to give you... words and less emotion.  I've had a few people in my life refusing to become emotionally invested because words are my allies... failing to realize they are my foes as well. 

Our decision approaches

The countdown begins.

Only a couple of weeks until election commences and boy do we have history in the making.  My mother told me that she is fearful for Obama and his family. I can understand that comment, watching the old Spike Lee flick Malcolm X, the threats on his life were the slippery slope to his demise. It was almost as if he sacrificed himself in the end. But, I'm not discussing the history of Malcolm X, more like the story of Obama.

On the radio, Michael Baisden played sound clips from "the American people" and their response to Obama. Some saying and insisting, "HE's An ARAB! He is an A-RAB" you know how the Southerners speak. Well, I don't think we can tell them fifty times that he is not, because they won't listen. Clear example of how backward society can only look in one direction.

Another said, "If we let this Neggres (neeh- grehs) in the White House, the country is going to fall." Wow, someone who used that terminology knows what's right and wrong for our country? I don't want to think negative in any way, but we can't endure an assassination, I think if we did have to face it riots and revolution is bound to follow suit. So many issues will come to light and people may fight again...fight for rights. Maybe music will be empowering versus demoralizing. Sides will be formed and justice is used in people's vocabulary once again.

As much as I want that... I don't want a life to become the symbol for it. I hope the outcome of the election does not rub anyone that wrong.

Die for a just cause, or die just cause

-i think i will put that in a poem-

Sitting around, in between tasks

Who knew?

Never have I been placed in a more discouraging demeanor than I am now. My present despondency derives from the drought of employment juices that flow through my veins. I loathe remaining indoors, I despise being unproductive, and yes writing and searching for jobs is one aspect I stimulate my spirit with. At the same time, this pattern of looking for employment is a occupation within itself. I almost drive myself mad concerned with what will contain the key to my successful future. Finally, I have fast-forwarded past the usual "I wish I were young" phrase, because dwelling on that is pointless. 

I know I know...in due time... be patient, remain with your eyes open, pray. Don't people tell me the same shit about finding someone? Well, patience may be a virtue, but it's also an annoyance. Sick of complacency and I'm tired of trying to decide my future, I wish it would thrust its ugly face in my presence and tell my broken soul to hop on the horse and ride down the fiery path of destiny. As emo and dark that sounds, fuck off... you have left me alone with my dog and my thoughts, what else am I to do? waste away at self reflection, I'm tired of thinking about myself...and I'm tired of writing about it.

Dexter Quote

"How do I show somebody real love when I never experienced it myself?"

soliloquy

The more she says she likes me the more I despise myself. As this customary notion of pleasant feelings usually becomes followed up by a staggering episode of tears and scorn. Yes, I adore the moments I can claim peace, but seeing as though I’m undeserving of such treatment, I ponder when the bridge will come crumbling down... due to my own fallacies of course. 

I’ve led a lot of my young life one fuck up to the next. Allowing some time to casually forgive myself and loathe others, yet as derailed as my soul ends up, I still find myself compelled to inquire about bad habits. Almost as if testing my patience and resistance is not enough already, I open doors I have closed shut.

Well, a bad habit in itself was returning home. The absence of forward progress has diluted my mind.

 

 **don't associate yourself with this**

Bet you didn't know this!!!

I really did not want to step in the political realm, but I wanted to mention one thing. This one thing will be brief, and pretty obvious.

So many American('t)s  are torn between this selfish pride issue and what is right. I say this because if (yes I'm about to do it) Obama was in fact White, 100% White, then he would have this by a landslide (yeah i played the race card). So much of the swayed voting has to do with "oh he is an Arab," or "he's a posing terrorist" or just he plain fact that he is Black. Well, what people haven't realized (a lot of people I guess) HE IS MIXED, mixed with WHITE. But he is all Black because he's got Black in him, and his policies and ideals do not matter because of the color of his skin. Which is terrible, but it is clear once again that our society has not moved that far...ont he racial spectrum, we're just inching. Technology, evolution of motor vehicles and advancements occur every day, but race is still decades behind. sucks.

love...again pt 3

Is it possible to fall in love with someone in three days. One weekend? 

seventy-two hours.

And with this being accomplished I set this scenario in a household where you would be around that someone for the full amount of time. Therefore, you have the opportunity to check mannerisms, get to know their lifestyles, arrangements and even inquire into one's past.

Is that enough time to fall in love with someone. This sounds movieish...well thats 'cause it is from a few movies. Movies are movies...stories, fantasies and dreams. They mindfuck our psyche and perception of how things truly can be. So instead of some people (me) being the young kid who wants to shoot up people or slice one hundred bodies apart like in Kill Bill... I want to love someone from first sight. hmm

Well, I have quickly been shown the reality of the fact and I hardly see the feasibility in a seventy-two hour heart warmth. Maybe it is past infatuation, and tips the very arrow that pierces, called love. I would love to love someone in that manner and fashion, it is very dream like... then again...

Love ...again pt 2

The second part

Love isn't enough. I finished enjoying my favorite show displaying this very aspect. How the love and sexual affection between two people were not strength enough to fundamentally last as a couple, let alone a marriage.

A lot of things "just aint enough." Being involved in a non-sexual yet interactive relationship may get some people through, others (like me) not so much. There has to be a balance of chemistry, a synchronization of sex, intelligent interaction, exploration, new experience, fun and pain. I think that will at least jump start what love can offer. Otherwise, you become involved in this optical illusion, wher you create positives and ignore flaws...fuck that.

okay, enough conjuring of this dark spirit.

Love ...again pt 1

Welcome guys.

So lately I have been loading you up with poetic thoughts and collaborative pieces featuring friends and fellow poets. I told you that was going to happen; but now that you want to hear some substantive impressions I thought I'd grace the notion about love.

No, not the I'm in love or how love is so sweet, or I love my car (white girl), more so the inductive reasoning about the "invisible laws" of love. What bounds our hearts, what logically taints our minds about what it controls? Seriously, isn't love the most unstable, unpredictable element we will encounter on this planet? Love is the only feeling (or skill) that summons other feelings, love creates hate, love creates pain, sorrow, happiness, joy, depression, and jealousy. Shoot, some told me I just love love, now ain't that a bitch. Love something as consequential and dubious as her's truly.

Love destroys. Love neglects reason and authority. Love causes misunderstandings.
That's what it's supposed to do.
Love is to spin the mind so that straight is... well, still straight, until you get off the merry-go-round and realize you've traveled in the wrong direction. But as long as you ride that rusty, squeaky, steel death machine, any direction is the right direction. So, I guess if you fall in love (hah, fall in love, but don't fall off!) and never get off, the partner you share that ride with will always go where ever you course to. It's when the ride is over that fucks any sense of direction and rationality.

But who am I to say, or judge? I have never truly loved. That's why I'm scared shitless of it. I have been in loving situations, but never a mutual love feeling, always me loving wayy more...or tons less...but have I ever been on the same page? Once.

Maybe my love outlook is somewhat justified, experience in so much of the negative results gives a different aspect. Maybe, or maybe I'm just so fucked...

We Make The World Go Round - Collaborative feat Derrick McFadden, DeWayne Alston and Sisandra Eleonora

 {Th3rd}

It starts with a sentence.

 

And since then I have been senseless,

I send less vibes through words unspoken

I emphasize it all in the words I have chosen

Being open with myself,

Realizing its closer to conscious wealth

And you can’t help but to overhear and to understand

And it’s not so clear, therefore you make demands.

My initiation was simple conversation and elementary verbalization

Now I’ve united with people, overlooking separation and combining to a poetic nation

prescribing direction through poetic inflection

Our words keep souls aligned,

    we’ve sewed the line,

 and so,

     defined what it is within ourselves

we make the world go ‘round

Our phonetics…our pure poetic sound

   Collaborate in masses to reach massive attention,

  the world must see what we’ve written

Hafta feel what we’ve been given

Feed off our meanings to keep us livin’

 

{Derrick}

Round and round we make the world go round

Painting pictures with words…we astound

 

Using our insomnia inflicted pens

Scribbling and scratching

Trying to make words blend

 

Searching for that perfect mixture

We pull from the depths of our minds

Painting portraits in the form of words

While keeping the rhythm within the rhyme

 

Pouring our hearts into each and every poem

Giving them metaphoric wings

So they can fly across pages and screens

Being the opposite of what is consider the norm

 

We capture hearts and squeeze out tears

We capture minds every single day of the year

 

We pen within the world’s ups and the downs

We be poets…we make the world go round

 

{Dewayne}

I live in a world of beauty neither seen nor heard

I try to capture the essence with every single word

I'm sensitive enough to sense this

And yet I too am left senseless

Overwhelmed by the power of what is spoken

And these lines I write are really just a token

Of my infatuation with the pad and the pen

So it makes sense that I write when

I'm down and feeling blue

Or weighted down by the things I do

I too realize that it is truly a conscious wealth

The realization of my unconscious self

So I've united with my partners in rhyme

Because this very moment defines the time

When many voices unite into one

With the power to move the sun

And push the earth off it's axis

What I really want to ask is...

Do we use this power to do what's right?

Do we use our voices to turn on the light?

 

{Sisandra}

From empires to continents

Suburbs, states, islands

In cafes, contest and online

We make the world spin, get ready

To hear the poet’s prophetic liquids

The conscience similes of colored embraces

A mental momentum proclaimed

Hail the glory,

The myth between extensions and fulfillment of a dream

The correlations amongst contractions,

While conceptual enrich the power of those addicted to

Verbal constipations

The installment of human races

The heritages of phantoms

That’s what a lot think

We penetrate vocally

Hail the King & Queens of the corrals

The provider”“ the giver of the gift”

He reign above quarrels

Ego’s are intoxication and kill the blessing of the ink,

but never a winner , the master said we will overcome

When our minds are united, we don’t need a mass

But one or two is enough to gain access

to x-files of this world indignations,

we help carry this world

To a new hope

Do you know any soul who is in need of a second chance

Grant it with an uplifting poem

Remember the world isn’t only yours, its from us all

It’s our temporary home

Alive by our words

living in our cores

When we inscribe verbs and nouns

When we assert precision

Causing cerebrum to burn

We make the world go around

We make your mind spin

Witness the richness of our skills

Its not a game

It’s a profession that lies in our

Optical gaze

Who are we

Poets… masters of the pen.

Fall Feature

October 1st I was featured in EKG Literary Magazine, thanks to a reference from my sister poet Kezia. I am featured as their spotlight poet, check it out!

Starving Artist Piece 10-9-08 Kezia A. Snipe & Th3rd

Th3rd
Words, words, words couldn't begin to describe
shoot words can't pay the bills to keep me inside
Cause outside there is turmoil, blood spilt on spoil and plots to foil a ghost enemy
but back on our front I'm realizing minute by minute how life is harder than hard
words don't pay attention to bills, they only fill date and show the money I owe
when i refuge to the pages, I want the sages and the saints to erase my complaints
an artist hungry to be heard,
an artist starving to live
all I need is these words to give
BACK

Kezia
unemployed poets
just tryin to make some noise
poised to hear anything but recession
and yet tryin to make ends off this gifted expression
but I get lifted expectin the best and facin the worst hopin on God's busy watch He might think of us first
I knew what it was like to be full and spittin right
but I'm learning what it's like to be hungry for the life switch and
reaching for the light switch cuz it's hard to move right in darkness

Th3rd
So what now?
Opt out and select something to settle
Sellout and disrespect my purpose for writing
I'll continue fighting and starving because thats the better course of action
It's unfortunate that my funds are really lacking
But, if I can get paid for the words I write
then maybe I might hate this job too
It's the only time being free to express never has dues
but when i'm updated on the news and the crisis
and wonder why many don't like this
well its work hard or bite this
no one is waiting and helping hands are rare
people are concerned about themselves and no one really cares
so when i wait come tax time and look in the mail
check out the money I owe and how the government is giving me hell
Its crazy the economy didn't improve when then congress approved the bail
I wont feel too bad 'cause at least I didnt rely on words and personal book sales

Kezia
So my domain remains this pen and paper
escaped to a pc because at least her words won't play her
I can't front I'm detecting cynicism in my own tone more annoying and distinct that collectors callin my home phone
Lord Jesus phone home! this isn't like me at all
Bitterness is for those who can't accept what befalls
RIGHT? Maybe not...just feels like I'm gettin teased and nothing is appearing to appease
and it's almost like no one is trying to reach
in all honesty a pity party simply ain't my style
but a jacked perspective on life ain't a good look for the child

Th3rd
I don't know what to do, but i wont fall
I have no where to go, and no one to call

A tall range of doubt and pessimism lurk over my head

Yet I look over its hunched shoulders and toward the light instead

I'm hurt because no one wants me,
I cry cuz the industries taunt me

Available yet unqualified

Amazing, yet denied

We'll call you, just to decline

It's a wonder if I can survive,
OH sis keep me alive

keep these words aligned
we need to define ourselves
s
So we can turn words into wealth, 
or some systematic arrangement,
I'm complaining complacent

my life is adjacent to what I want

Kezia
Bro grab my hand and I'll grab yours
We'll both conquer this growing force to keep us down
While we we try not to get down in the depths or drown in debt
or frown at that this wreck of a mess in which we reside
like the gambler said to the dealer
let it ride
Ultimately life is gonna be what it is
and me and you can make it, I'll just gotta know how to deal
So life is yours for the taking and great is mine for the taking
So I conclude a GREAT LIFE is yours and mine for the making

Unfinished Poem - wrote it in the car

We're igloos in Arizona
we're sand dunes in Alaska
no matter what I'm after
she's always by my side

Although I have two sides
Gemini is what I've implied
she endures through the good and the bad
letting me know she's the best I'll ever have

Beauty

This was an incredible machine. I was able to sit passenger as the owner ripped and ran it viscously through curves, and straightaways. The sensation I felt after I removed my plastered self from his seat was the EXACT reason I cherished cars so much. I am great at what I do, fixing things, and problem solving, nothing better than doing it. The politics, money and structure is always a turn off, but the feeling of hurdling down pavement at excess speeds was my high. Some get off on the sound of the motor revving at high RPMs, others love the sleek look and design. ME? Well, I like bombing down the road not knowing if I can make the turn. Anyways, thats why I love cars, the whole race car fan in me isn't too high (structure and politics) but visually seeing a car go 200 mph is quite an amazing sight.

fuck/talk

"The talking and the fucking go hand and hand..."

This coming from a show I can't seem to get enough of, Californication. And yes, the statement rides on the true bus, although discovering its derivative is awfully painful. Its a great comment, because when talking to a few of my friends, we all know that talking to someone and committing oneself emotionally could be just as damaging as giving oneself up physically. To most males, the spectrum is not as effective, yet females can make the situation detrimental. Fucking and talking are the same when it breaks down to it, and once that role of being a synced partner and conversationalist begins, (mindsex) then it's due time for the real sex. Although, most my screw ups have implicated the latter, I know the justification between the two.

Doomsday

We're doomed.

That's the voice I heard as I listened to the echoes coming from my last pint of beer. Realizing that we as people have started to fail as a companionship type society. The spring of technology, the surge is womanhood and the independent-self mindframe we are all trained to pursue has tainted another important aspect of our growth. Loving another.

Yeah, mayyybe this is a bit emo...but who gives a shit when our social life contains nothing emotional in it. The idea of love is the only strength that plays a role on our heart. Innocent minors lose their conscious bearing when their young hearts become soaked in pain. Happy endings become fables, love becomes fantasy, and a good person is a myth. Even I know how cracked my liberty bell is, yet I still ring the bastard.

So, we're doomed, conquered by so much pain and doubt that it blinds our perception on reality. Then the illusion of saving our hearts only inaugurates the distress that hollows our souls.

Friday Nite In

Ever been so indulged in a conversation, then opposite party excuses oneself, and when they return there is that pickup point? You know, similar to that awkward silence conversation discussed in pulp fiction. The person returns, you sip your drink and say "yeah." Smiling gently across to welcome their presence back, and awaiting the spark to another enlightening conversation.

You know, that one talking about what one is to do with their life. Or the sanctifying feeling of returning to the humbling 'b-more.' Yes, the see more conversation, where I can relieve more pain and grieve more about the dead lil' child that used to smile so honestly. Now, it's just a facade. A face painting on the dark mural of life.

I constantly get reminded on how I'm not in Kansas anymore, and that loving love is not enough to get me through in life. Hopeless romance has sank its diminutive head into the cores of doubt. "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away," that is until my 4th glass of wine is consumed and the troubles of remembering a name are the only queries of the hour. good evening

Not proofread - Good Day October

Welcome October!

Ever have a good month? Or just classify that one month is usually a bad month. We all know how I feel about fall, but months is a different story. I could have a terrible November or a wonderful October, usually by the course of events that stretch throughout its proximation.

What is your usual month, or simply put your "favorite" month? As most of us would say when we were younger, "December! December!" I would have to admit, it still is on my top, although it has been marked by lonely Christmases i do cherish the music. That's the only time you can play the same songs from decades ago and it takes you to a warm place. I mean yeah, we can play temptations all year long. But "Silent Night" will never be an "old" song because it's deemed a Christmas song.

So, favorite month? Mine? Well, depends on the year, I had a awful January and February this past year, yet two years ago it was rather eventful, even though its dismal conclusion would still rank it among my least favorites. June, is always a kickass month, it's my birthday month, but it was the first I spent with none of my regular friends, quite a lonely one this year. May's are usually awesome, July's always breeze by... October's are usually great, homecoming months, halloween, fall gets cooler, leaves turn, scary movie releases, not a bad time for much. This year it marks decision 08, (for me not the Prez) What in the world will I decide upon... fun to be confused and unsure sometimes, makes going with the flow THAT much easier to do.

Anyways, welcome October, even though the name really throws me off. Oct- tober... Octopus, Octagon, Octennial - it's a Greek derived word...meaning EIGHT...and here October is the freakin tenth month out of the year... great job guys. Just a thought

"Oh yes, there will be blood" - Saw

While I was soaking in the shower, dormant, and idle I pondered about the infamous film series "Saw." Legendary for it's uniqueness, and gore; the movie sets apart from most horror flicks. It combines a sadistic look into the lives of our general society, involvement in drugs, sex, obsession for money, and other vices that "jigsaw" extorts for our viewing pleasures. The movie is genius, a guy who is the antagonist, in a poor state of being, and he was put there by inopportune situations; therefore, we feel a bit sorry for him and in a sense root for him in a way.

I love the darkness, that's why I was so intrigued by the "Dark Knight," the joker's role in the film portrayed a dark individual who cared less for fame, recognition or money. He was who he was.


"Why So Serious?!"

Yes, Heath took that role seriously, but as I return back to Saw. I conjured the thought of the movie off of one notion. What vice would Jigsaw exploit me for? And think of this relative to yourself... what would he torment you with because you indulge in it way too much. Your love for porn, you addiction to nicotine, you obsession with eating right? Why would you be locked away and threatened to be killed for something you are overly doing? I never answered my own question though, what would Jigsaw peer from my life that he could hold against me?

well, it would obviously be...