a stream of consciousness, becomes a river, becomes a lake, becomes a sea



This is the space above the calendar. Above days and months. Above such trivial concepts as today and tomorrow.




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"Only a couple of generations ago, we the people sang the songs and told the stories and generated our culture from the bottom up.

But now, more and more of our culture is spoon-fed to us top down by corporations, TV networks and ad agencies.

We must reclaim our culture. Start telling our own stories again. Singing our own songs. Producing our own meaning.

Creating our own cool..."

- Adbusters Blackspot Campaign




The Revolution will be
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As a total slave to opinion I have to put this link here:

Listed on BlogShares

But what the fuck do those guys know?

Absolutely fuckin nothing - that's what. This link makes my blog stronger for no other reason than I bothered to have it here.

Does that make this place any better? No - obviously not. I'm popular simply because I choose to be popular. I chose to make myself accessible to the masses.

But don't mistake my want of accessibility for respect...

...I still hate most of you more than you can imagine.





It's lonely down here. What purpose can a paragraph find at the nigh-bottom of this blog? Should I be humorous? Informative? Why am I here? I wish I was that other paragraph above the calendar. Oh the wonderful things I could do from up there...






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Tuesday, October 26, 2004
I need to get drunk earlier...


...because late TeeVee looks great through whisky-goggles...

...I assume prime-time television looks like Oscar Award winning, BAFTA nominated, Golden Globe material.


This thought broke free from Solender's mind at 11:26 pm
It is still at large and should be considered Armed and Dangerous

Gustoovious
October 27, 2004   01:51 PM PDT
 
Why stop there... you should be getting some crazy drunken 10:30am Play School or Sesame Street Action... That Jimima's a saucy little minx at whisky o'clock.


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