Showing posts from December, 2005

12 Minutes of Downloadable Insanity

Firstly, if you like robot/love related webcomics, go here:

A caveat tho: Prepare to burn up a whole bunch of life-hours. There are hundreds of strips, and WAY cool shirts too. Oh yeah, the 12 minutes! The guy who makes diesel sweeties is rstevens. He has a livejournal. On November 4, he put a link to this 12 minute brain fuddling song?, called Intro-Introspection. If you want it, find it here. It's 12 minutes of song intros, mashed up together. It might make you insane. I'm on the 2nd listen and I can't decide if I want to hear it again or throw up. It's unnatural. It's kissing Pitt, Affleck, Ford, Damon, Clooney, Kravitz, Mortensen, McGregor, Ledger, Banderas, Bloom, and Wilson, and then walking away. I could go on, but that would just delay you a little more from indulging your morbid curiosity, like I did. If it gets too intense, just plug your ears and after 12 minutes, it will go away.

Confounded Fastener, a.k.a.

Isn't the finest art scrawled on a found index card in a frustrated moment of clothing failure?

18 Million Minutes

The other day in math class, my cadre of padawans and I had a problem in which we had to figure out how many minutes old we were.

They, being 8 or 9 years old, fell somewhere between 4 and 4.7 million minutes and change.

I, however, have racked up 18,396,000 or so.

6,132,000 have been spent asleep (give or take).

I've spent 12,264,000 or more listening to music.

In the past decade and a half, I've probably spent 2 million or so online.

I've probably spent at least 873,000 in a directly foul or negative mood, sometimes related to whatever happened online. A year is 525,600 minutes.

In another 18 million minutes, give or take, this mounting pile of papery slices of time is going to go up in one big bonfire.

Chris Martin tells me "everything's not lost" though.


"Can't stop the spirits when they need you / This life is more than just a read-through"
-- Flea, Kiedis and Co.

The problem with making food gifts...

is that while you're laboring over Crunchy Sweet Mixed Nuts, you tend to want to taste test them. A LOT. Non-Food Ingredients for Christmas baking: Rockin' CD (and player, as you can see)One? glass egg nog (only 420 calories each!) Hardcore self-discipline A large-print sign taped in a highly visible place that reads: IF YOU EAT ALL THE GIFTS, YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOP AGAIN. If you're feeling classy, a chilled glass of pinot grigio. If it's further from payday, maybe a shot or 3 of the pumpkin schnapps left over from Halloween last year. Hope all y'all's gifting is going merrily!


I have invented a new marketing tool for cellphones. Observe: Living with a roommate/s?Do you have sexual relations? Do they? Then you need SPS: the Sexual Positioning System! Use this state of art device to alert your housing compadre to your or his/her sexual needs for the space ASAP! Never listen to your roommate's partner's dirty "skank calls" again! Order SPS now and be assured of a disturbance-free New Year's eve ass-gittin'! SPS: Position yourself to score!

A Kind of Bloodlust

To begin with, I deftly rent the body in half, slicing through its soft skin,
the ruby contents spilling onto the floor.

I chose one tool, then another, with which to do my dismembering.

I thought it best to cut each of its parts loose with a sharp knife.

Its lifeblood flowed into a bowl I had placed below the body for the purpose
of catching the nutrient-rich fluids that, until recently, had sustained it.

Each of the sections was then devoured.

Not yet satisfied, I squeezed the innards mercilessly,
greedily drinking the dripping blood one spoonful at a time.

Finished, I cast the empty husk into the garbage bin
and went to wash my hands of the sticky evidence.