I was forced into this...

“President George Bush signed off with a defiant farewell over his refusal to accept global climate change targets at his last G8 summit. As he prepared to fly out from Japan, he told his fellow leaders: 'Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter.'"

From here, found via so_very_doomed.

Is it so hard to see that this president does not give a shit about you and I or anybody we know, and never has? And yet he runs this country.
(Into the fucking ground.)
IF he cared about us, wouldn't he care about the land that sustains us? Bah, from what I know of most that read this, you already hate Bush, or,
"hope he falls into a toxic pit
and drowns in it
slowly"
onto another note.

I have absolutely no faith in any system that can get a fuck like that elected, and elected again, with next to no contestation. When it's that fuckwad or another who's "better than [him]" (this, for many, being the only reason they voted for such a chode monster), a douche and a turd, when there's voting fraud, hackable voting machines, restructuring of voter zones, ignoring votes of blacks, even denying some the ability to vote, on and on and on and on. And this is only voting. What about the bills that allow greater surveillance of us citizens, even the candidate claiming to be on the side of Change and citizen power is pro such a bill, the man from WI with a spine supports one who lets his rot.
Cousin J has this to say about Backbone Man: "yeah he is pretty stand up, Obama is the one who voted for it.
Feingold still believes that the democratic party is worth something, that is why he is lame" [emphasis added]

Let me correct one thing said above. I said I had "absolutely no faith", which is true in some sense (in the sense of lacking faith in anything I'd like to see being done politically, environmentally, economically, agriculturally, etc., for example). But in another sense it might be more true instead to say that I have faith that the system will work, but continue working for the most part just as it has in the past, and is doing so now, that it will exploit many, either directly or by ignoring their existence, faith that many people with power have gained such in games of concessions, games which involve trading integrity for influence, games that only The Rich and The Famous the wealthy can "buy in" on (with us playing [being played as] the poker chips), faith that, whether or not it was Mussolini who originally said "Fascism should more properly be called corporatism because it is the merger of state and corporate power", that there is some truth to such. John Taylor Gatto has chronicled the dumbing down of Americans, and Freud's nephew, Edward Bernays, in his book Propaganda, said "The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society." A father of public relations, not to mention influential in advertising. What do you mean our desires are manufactured?
I'm getting off topic here.

Shit like this is all the more reason why I most likely won't be voting in the coming election.
No, I'm not abstaining because of any desire to save my pure virgin cherry. It's been popped.
Some act as if voting will make all the difference in the world. I believe quite the opposite. That people, by believing that putting a check mark (or punching a chad, oof!) on a piece of paper makes a big difference, do not go far enough; many of said people hope to change the world for the better, and at the same time hate their neighbor just for voting for an opposing candidate. This is an act that says to me "I'm willing to give only enough of a say so somebody up there can A) change things, or B) keep things the same, but that's the only effort I'm willing [i.e. required] to put forth. Oh, and you're stupid and voting for the other party, morans." The kind of asshole that expects something from you but would never give one morning to volunteer for Meals on Wheels. It's like the priest that preaches community peace and love, then raises his nose to all those not of [H/h]is denomination. You say "vote for somebody in the system", and I say "I didn't even vote this system into place. Now where's the democracy in that?"

Voting will change some things, yes, but it is for the most part a hands off system, throw in some coins, push the button, sit back and watch, repeat every four years - a vestige of change for a highly-televisioned, pacified and mediated consumer culture, a culture that largely believes if it's not name brand or played on the radio or seen on MTV, that it's worth no consideration; how does somebody like this even consider a third party candidate (and no! I'm not saying this is where any salvation lies!)? Not only do I find most candidates illegitimate potential leaders (the same goes with almost anybody who has the desire to lead), but also the role of president, the government, along with any other body that claims to represent others but somehow always ends up making decisions against the interest of their constituents (all the while claiming a monopoly on legitimacy). Hell, representation I find illegitimate in most cases. Try to represent to me in prose the content of a poem. No thanks. And a politician is supposed to be capable of representing many living people, with their constantly changing minds and desires, who are quite more complex than a poem, which on the other hand has its words etched in stone (well, paper), to never change? I have yet to see a politician nuanced, delicate and fierce enough to do so legitimately.

Represent this to your representatives for me.



Voting: Because sometimes you're choosy when it comes to getting fucked by a fifty-some year old man you've never spoken to.

Me, I'd rather not ever get fucked by someone who doesn't want to hear my voice, ideas and opinions.

the men went to a cemetery in Cassville in southwestern Wisconsin in 2006 to remove the body of a 20-year-old woman killed the week before in a motorcycle crash, police said.
-http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,379223,00.html

Ah, Good Ol' Wisconsin, how I love thee. Found on Rotten News (thanks be to Robin), something I'm disappointed I hadn't known about before.

But what really sold it to me, the first entry on the page at the time, 'Priest Receives Fruit Basket with Aborted Fetus'.

"For us the red glow of the sunset should be as much part of nature as are the molecules and electrical waves by which men of science would explain the phenomenon."
-Whitehead (1920/2004, 29), found at The Pinocchio Theory

A man influential in the history of process philosophy, formulator of point-free geometry (don't know that I get this one necessarily, and definitely not the equations), also the fallacy of misplaced concreteness, which sounds very much like reification (not the Marxian kind). I'd like to read Process and Philosophy, maybe, if my plate weren't filled beyond the point of what could choke a man, and if I needed further arguments from those realms.

Visited the fam this weekend. Sister was celebrating the bday of two of her kids. Her baby's daddy is a fucking negligent putz. At least this time he did some grilling, which is much more productive than I've seen or heard of him ever being. One on one I could maybe get along with him, perhaps even shroom with the fucker some time, but as a partner for my sister and a father to her child, he has been failing miserably as far back as memory extends. Meth heads such as him keep a job only long enough to save enough cash up to pay for their portion of rent, ask the person they're living with (my sis in this case) for their amount to run it to the rental office, then go out, rent a hotel, and lock themselves up in a room or some such and get fucked up until the cash runs dry. Hooray for them.

Also hung out with some friends, had some good times with a sixteen year old chick (nothing illegal) and friend. Smoked a bit, saw a smoking ban go into effect, helped a cousin move out of his house, and drank much while eating little, the first couple days of such hurt, then my body became used to it. Gotta stop that.

Walking along one day, looking about at the ground as I am wont to do, saw a plant I recognized from The Forager's Harvest, said "That's gotta be Lamb's Quarters", and grabbed a leaf, pulled out the book while it was beginning to sprinkle, looked it up, and felt convinced it was so. Still didn't eat it though. Asked a friend for a second opinion, he said "all those plants in there look the same to me", so delayed the consuming of such. Asked someone a little later after a purchase of booze, and got it confirmed.

A couple days later hung out with my father's friend, a man known to me since childhood, Hoss, and walked around out at my father's house a bit and he showed me a few plants before going off to Truck. Finally spotted some variety of Sorrel (tastes great!), ground cherry, spiderwort, yarrow, and a few others that escape recollection now. A little earlier before taking off though, he asked if I'd have interest in going up north with a few others, and be shown old soap-making methods, cordage, brain tanning, plant identification, flintknapping, stone tool making, on and on. Must remember to ask about plant based insect repellents.
Hells yes!
Lock me out and keep your cursed keys of separation.

The last day and some hours have been rocking my balls in so many good ways.

Most recently, I and some friends watched Cool Hand Luke, ate some eggs, took some shots, got sick. I almost got my head puked on. Video hopefully forthcoming.

I experienced something yesterday that's had me feeling constantly, consistently great. Like a phenomenally beautiful and vibrant sunset with immense clouds in the sky, tripping hella-mad on some syrian rue and fungi, thinking you might die any moment, with no fear in the slightest of such, just gratitude.
It brought me back to some time last August, where I felt quite used, kinda really liked it (in some ways), but there was no continuation of such for whatever reason (actually, lack of reciprocation is the only reason that comes to mind). Not that such ventures wouldn't be undertaken immediately if they were to present themselves this very moment.

Q: What does the number fourteen sound like in French?
A: My favorite thing.
I am such a boy some times.
If only it were all times.

I find little hope for a better future when a world of people continually act as if minor inconveniences were the end of the world, and put them off and ignore them only to have them pile up and multiply, morphing these once minor problems into possibilities of future catastrophes.

The same goes with a world of people that value human wants over the needs of all other nun-human life on this planet. Mindsets of the types that subject all value to human use have little value to me. Value of only these things perceived to be of use to humans is a death call for those that are not of said use, as those other things only take up space for these valued things, and therefore must be done away with. This destroys redundancies, creates homogeneity (it's efficient!), forges weak links in the chains that sustain us, and has already been the end of many a thing. What will stop such from being the end of many of us? I mean, when you poison your waters, desertify your crop land, overfish the oceans, dam up the rivers that fish spawn in, deforest rainforests, pollute the air, start using less efficient fuel methods all the while consuming more and more energy, and on top of that breed like fuck, where can you expect to get?

Many pay lip service to progress, but act as if there's no tomorrow.
Not that there's any contradiction here. Funny thing, though, that those that believe their end is near, and those that believe in the nearness of infinite abundance, both act with this same reckless abandon. But why, when you say the end is nowhere near, yet at the same time see that this infinite abundance seems further and further away, less and less attainable, why continue such beliefs that fly in the face of any and all evidence contrariwise? what is the reason for this? Does not the progression of disaster increase daily?

New Scientist: Why the demise of civilisation may be inevitable

If crops fail because rain is patchy, build irrigation canals. When they silt up, organise dredging crews. When the bigger crop yields lead to a bigger population, build more canals. When there are too many for ad hoc repairs, install a management bureaucracy, and tax people to pay for it. When they complain, invent tax inspectors and a system to record the sums paid. That much the Sumerians knew.

Diminishing returns

There is, however, a price to be paid. Every extra layer of organisation imposes a cost in terms of energy, the common currency of all human efforts, from building canals to educating scribes. And increasing complexity, Tainter realised, produces diminishing returns. [...] To keep growing, societies must keep solving problems as they arise. Yet each problem solved means more complexity. Success generates a larger population, more kinds of specialists, more resources to manage, more information to juggle - and, ultimately, less bang for your buck.

Now, I for one don't believe that "each problem solved means more complexity", necessarily. But note that such was prefaced by "to keep growing". Increased complexity is necessary inasmuch as a society believes that progress is linked to growth, in fact, growth and progress become intertwined (if not one and the same). And in this same worldview of binary thinking/categorization having prevalence, progress links with forward (and therefore speed, as speed speeds up forward), links with efficiency (but efficiency only in regards to time, energy efficiency is rarely idealized, let alone valued [if you don't have to do the work, how much do you care how hard others have to work to get it done?]).

We are, after all, more advanced than those societies in the past (we passed them by), and to simplify (go backward) would not only be regression, but at the same time an admittance of defeat (and admitting such would mean we were on a wrong course, no, we were right from the get go, and winners, too). All this works much like western medicine often does, by providing a cheap cure rather than remedying the source of the problem; it's not "let's pause for a moment and assess the situation" but instead "we'll find a quick fix for this in the near future when our technologies are better."

How many times have you heard someone equate progress with slowing down, simplifying?
A semi-survivalist'ish friend of my father's says, "don't work hard, work smart." This was regarding going out and hunting big game, or using traps and snares to capture possibly smaller game. The yield on the latter may be less, but is the greater amount more necessary?
I'm reminded of being at a shrine in Japan, and questioning our sensei's friend as to what a post read, "simple is best," she responded. That's stuck with me ever since then.

Heard those words the other night, and smiled.

What follows is directed at no one in particular, as I've had numerous influences. I tend to rant about lack of drug legality or shit going on with the environment and such, so have something different. It's very 'I' heavy, but I don't care.

Lately I've been feeling like some think of me as a rope in a game of tug of war, only the game being played is hardly being played for fun. Pull too hard and I will wish rope burn on your hands, I am also far from impervious to schadenfreude. There are games I enjoy and these will be joined voluntarily upon my wishing. Pulling on me to off-balance another, c'mon. I do not mind when people vent, it's absolutely necessary to blow off steam at times, but it is another thing entirely when you play the victim and slander others, in attempts to elicit a response from me (or others) to join your side. It's all so much bullshit to play the victim yet continue getting into (even forcing) these situations wherein repetition of perceived victimization is sure to follow.

They: "Guess what so and so did to me."
My thoughts: "What the fuck could you have expected? Seriously."

I mean, the world and situations are so much more complex than A acted on B, as if B were some inanimate object waiting to be worked on. Instead there's a whole confluence of forces, though it is pretty easy to focus on just one. This whole subject/object mover/moved victimizer/victim dichotomy in thought does not do one's mental capabilities justice, and crying wolf after egging another on when you damned well know what their response will be is fucking lame, hey, but do whatever furthers your ability to bitch and moan while feeling wronged and right. In feeling wronged the other becomes wrong and you right, them active victimizer you passive victim. Oh, such compelling stories. Two illusory sides. Divine Heaven separate from base Earth. Republican from Democrat. Right from Left. Truth from lies. There are distinctions, yes, but absolute separation (and absolute contradiction)? We're all big kids here, we can do whatever the fuck we please, even continue wearing blinders that ignore the connections.

I am not saying that there are no victims: sometimes it occurs that a psychopath breaks into your house and stabs you to death, but so so so many other times these psychos are antagonized and what they do is far from murder.

I am not your intermediary, I will not judge with you, I will not judge you, I do not hate, but would love to fill my ears a million times over with needles and cover them with cement, than hear some unconvincing talk of how sweet little innocent you have been done a great injustice unexpectedly (unless such is honestly the case). It's not that I don't care, I just care much much less when someone's trying to sell me a story involving these dichotomies and insist on them absolutely.

Some have acted as if I'm naive and unaware of shit (which has some basis some times), hence my inaction regarding some situations. I think another part of this is an assumed belief that, if I knew the same shit, I'd act in the same way. Not so. We all have different tolerances (wow, really?). As time passes I find my values increasingly at odds with those of another or others, for example, I don't think murder is wrong and have no problem with pedophilia. Oh my! What poor judgement on my behalf! Nah, lack of judgement, rather.

-Chad, your less-than-sympathetic neighborhood curmudgeon.

sometimes it's damned reassuring to find out that, even after only a year short of a decade after ceasing study of another language, i still communicate better with a native speaker of japanese than some dude who's in his second semester in college. it's been nine years, and i totally flunked the last 1.5 years of high school teaching (of four). a lot of this communication tonight (er, this morning) was based on the ability to say "holy shit i'm a stupid retard for not knowing what you just said", in a convincing fashion and tone. after four years of studying under a japanese teacher from japan, sure i didn't get all the words and phrases down, but got the intonation a bit just from hearing her scold me for not getting those; that much i got. intonation was huge, and though not something explicitly taught in class, still definitely something learned there.

ramen time (if only it were ramune time!).

i've got a cold. a cold that cost me $5200, as covance gave me the boot yesterday morning, my pulse being high and all that jazz. that and some of my enzyme levels were high, for reasons unbeknownst to me. however, still made $500 for the two days there, being an alternate and all (with the possibility of making the study, but didn't). been blowing my nose since sunday or monday, more and more frequently, which irritates it more and more. the only thing i could think of that would be soft enough to not just not damage it, but to sooth it also? tissues made from baby bottoms. somebody get on this, pronto.

i'm highly disappointed at my inability to make mad cash, as i'd hopes and plans for about every dollar of that. the timing of this disaster (as i'll call it this once) is far from ideal, so any other study i can do will be further into spring/summer (meaning outdoor weather), therefore eating into camping, disc golfing, porch sitting and lake and people watching.
things i was hoping to spend the $5700 on: rest of this lease's rent. camping gears. perhaps a bow. sweet ass knife. tattoo(s). fix my bike up. trip to sierra leone this coming winter. perhaps a gun. seriously. every sign points to TEOTWAWKI drawing nearer, after all, and to remain sitting on my ass all the time would hardly do me and this mind any good.

Procrastination is our favorite form of self-sabotage.
-Alyce P. Cornyn-Selby

oh, and here's a link: Top 50 Dystopian Movies of All Time

I'd wager there's just short of 500 books following, ranging from philosophy (Pre-Socratic to Hegel to Nietzsche, Existentialism, Postmodernism, Post-Structuralism, whatever else have you), to Psychology, Linguistics, Socialism Marxism Feminism Environmentalism and other radical stuff, to Anthropology, Archaeology, Ethnogrophies, to Religion, Spirituality, Mythology (and studies/interpretations of by the likes of Joseph Campbell, Mircea Eliade, Marie-Louise von Franz), to Fiction, Literature, Poetry, and writing in general.

Gonna be listed on madisonwi later on today (Monday), perhaps on Tuesday, so if you have any interest, look sooner than later.

Most of the books have no price next to them, meaning $5 is desired. Specifics follow after the cut.
( have yourself a look )

goddamn it snowed hellsabunch yesterday. after getting out of a car, pushing it out of stuckness, and the same with the car of the people who helped, i headed to half price books, which closed a couple hours previous thanks be the inclement weather. then sat at a transfer point for a good fifty minutes or so waiting for a bus headed downtown. there was a 'not in service' bus parked there, packed with people, with its sole intent to keep people warm. i stayed outside, feeling adequately dressed for the weather (minus feet and legs [just because boots keep out the wet, does not mean they keep out the cold 8( ]). and there was plenty company of talkative persons, too. one girl offered me some dove brand candies, to which my empty stomach and i enthusiastically accepted. it turned out that they were ice cream filled, not that these hands noticed. a bus arrived, and i was off.

got off on the corner of johnson by the old milio's/big mike's/JJ's (i can't recall which, it's been closed for a while), next to where casa bianca (was that the one?) once was, also, and near the laundromat. the block previous the angelic brewery. due to the red lights and slow movement and whatever else, and lack of momentum being an inhibitor for upward movement thanks to these, many cars couldn't make it up the hill, which further slowed traffic. yet there were droves of college kids (well, a good dozen and a half at least that i noticed) going from stationary car (front wheels a spinning) to the next stationary car, pushing them up hill. all these events thus far, they hadn't "restored my faith in humanity" or anything of the sort, but increased my love of a few humans, in the least.

continued walking home, and single handedly (well, double handedly), assisted two cars out of their dilemmas. spoke to the hippies down the block who planned on making a slide down their stairs seeing it hadn't yet been shoveled, then went home and made hummus for the first time. it turned out... not like any hummus i've tasted before. don't know, but it might be the amount of roasted garlic (too much?) i put in it. or that the chickpeas were crushed using a mortar and pestle, and not thrown in a food processor, leading to some amount of chunkiness. not sure. oh, and also recently discovered that the terra cotta garlic holder i've got can as a garlic roaster.

all in all an agreeable day.

trying to concern myself with more, at the same time find myself concerned less and less.
note the difference.

so often while sober I tend towards lazing about. very rarely a schedule. or plans. just follow whatever unfolds. i've no problem with this, but even lack of schedule can turn into routinization.

some drugs demand plan making. you set aside time and space for them.

i'm sober/hung over.
hang overs: excellent and salient reminders not to trifle with poisons. to not take them too lightly. well, lightly may be better than heavily, if...
the greater the dose the greater the dangers. though danger has its time and place too.
"But as doctors of the ancient art, just as we are not deterred because a particular poison is fatal if used incorrectly, neither are we impressed nor lulled because another poison is subtle and sweet." -dale pendell

alcohol does not necessarily make stupid, rather people often view recklessness as stupidity. recklessnesses changes up cares (or change in cares leads to this perceived recklessness? whatever).
it's not just through amanita muscaria that things change size (not that i've consumed that, they might change things sizes in different ways for sure). bigger and smaller cares. this may prove great for self-criticism and putting one's self under the scalpel. or as a blindfold. repression often times ain't all that great, however.

a change in values turns into a change of logic (not illogic, but differently reasoned), which turns around and, if one lets it, reciprocates. they might couple. invite others and have an orgy. maybe even birth beautiful and horrendous bastard children. from unknown parents. values sit behind premises, premises behind logic. that you argue something shows value at least for the argumenting. for why invest time into something you couldn't give a flying fuck about?
"sacred and inviolable"? i profane and violate that shit.

a change in diet
a breath of fresh air (even if smoky)
not two steps forward, one step back
but hopscotch all abouts
tips not rules
experimentation, self-prescription
hobbies not habits
irregularities
poisons

went to olbrich gardens today, with a flatmate, out of our minds. and bodies, not that i'd call it an oobe. 80 minutes or so outdoors, with wind chill making it feel maybe zero degrees out. becoming mostly numb, closing my eyes made me feel to be a few somehow interacting centers of awareness: my mind, thumbs and pointer fingers rubbing against one another, and heels, inasmuch as they were hitting the ground. no links between them, but my mind knew where they all were, and each of them where one another were, too.

indoors the plants were all repetitions of what appeared to be one simple pattern (different for each plant, of course), over and over and over (and over and over and over and under), often one leaf unwinding pinwheelesque, very mathematical feeling, the bark being dead outer leaf sheathing inner leaf. leaves basket weaving a tree. never saw anything that looked seed bearing (though looking for a single seed for the origin of one of these might be a bit on the foolish side [but i'm down with folly]). birthed from and of paradox. all these plants without a center, vital energies flowing skywards and waterwards and sidewards. aerial roots. latching and pushing and moving and prying, but always always always flowing.

like this here:


except in this picture you can't follow the roots upward all the way and also see many of the interweavings.
that's a walking tree, ficus bengalensis, whatever you wanna call it. they can move centimeters a year.
except i only saw a couple of those, and this place was littered with dozens of plants thriving in similar fashions.
hmmm. ficus bengalensis zhan zhuang.

truth seems pretty darned concrete when you hear the same stories all the time (and tell the same ones over and over again yourself). even moreso when you ignore ones that obey the official account.
i'm getting sick of "I" again. "I" gets me sick?

Pharmako/Poeia - Plant Powers, Poisons & Herbcraft, by Dale Pendell, is a bad ass book. I've been flying through it, and straying little. This does not often happen. The book details various plants, their uses throughout history, various preparations, myths and poetry and song about them, and perhaps becoming allies with some of them, toxins, the poison path, the danger of it all. The first in a series of three (got the other two on the way), I could hardly provide a higher book recommendation for those with interest in drugs or in plants. And for those with interest in both? Woof!

Here be a snippet

The great work is healing. If you can figure out how to heal yourself, then you know something for sure. You have expertise. So you have to be sick. And maybe you want to be really good at this healing, so you want to practice. And how can you practice without poison?

Download it!

The Encyclopedia of Psychoactive Plants arrived in the mail today. Weighing in at 944 pages, it looks to also bear bad ass-ness. There're many plants I'll be giving a shot in the future, baby hawaiian woodrose, mimosa hostilis rootbark, kratom, wormwood, yopo, and who knows what else? Maya Ethnobotanicals, that's who. They've got quite a comprehensive collection of items, the most wide and varied I've come across yet (not that that's saying much).

This year has been the most fucked up of my life thus far (also not necessarily saying much), next year, however, will be the year of me getting "fucked up" the most.
At least this I presume.
I become more juvenile every day, and it is so damned enjoyable (if only for me). So many suffocate the kid in them.

Isolation is one of the keys of state power, so it's very important for us to get together and have fun. It is a political act.
-Dale Pendell

One must be forever drunken: that is the sole question of importance. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time that bruises your shoulders and bends you to the earth, you must be drunken without cease. But how? With wine, with poetry, with virtue, with what you please. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace, on the green grass by a moat, or in the dull loneliness of your chamber, you should waken up, your intoxication already lessened or gone, ask of the wind, of the wave, of the star, of the bird, of the timepiece; ask of all that flees, all that sighs, all that revolves, all that sings, all that speaks, ask of these the hour; and wind and wave and star and bird and timepiece will answer you: 'It is the hour to be drunken! Lest you be the martyred slaves of Time, intoxicate yourselves, be drunken without cease! With wine, with poetry, with virtue, or with what you will.'
-Baudelaire

There is a danger growing around Madison. And no, it isn’t the sexual assaults, kidnappings, bank robberies, murders or violence. According to state lawmakers (and probably Lou Dobbs), it is imports from Mexico that may be here illegally to destroy American culture and American youth.

I’m talking, of course about Salvia Divinorum—a non habit-forming herb that has historically been used in the Mazatec region of the Sierra Madre Mountains in Oaxaca, Mexico as part of ritualistic healing and prophecy rituals.

read the rest of this excellent article which disputes some of the reasons that are focused on a salvia divinorum prohibition aimed at Wisconsin (and perhaps to other necks of the woods, too).



from Entheogenic Reformation.

this has now officially been the most fucked up year of my life, evar.

don't ask.

found via dose nation.

in a few days i'm getting my largest check since i don't know when. well over a year, last made lots of money in late march, but that got blown right quick. can't wait to purchase shit and pay rent and eat food and buy groceries. and lots and lots of legal non-prescription plants, stimulants, highs, drugs, whatever they're called. live salvia plant here you come!

"The name of the song is called 'Haddocks' Eyes.'"
"Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?" Alice said, trying to feel interested. "No, you don't understand," the Knight said, looking a little vexed. "That's what the name is called."
-Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

I haven't met all of you in person, some know neither my appearance nor my sound. So, here's a video, phreshly made today. Of me!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRRyWm66RzU