BUDDHATOMIC

Yarrgh

2009-12-02T10:47:00.002-06:00

Hello,

It is I, and I'm rising from the dead, zombie-style. And by that I mean I'm having a happy reunion with my blog, which is also a zombie, just a very passive one. Together we are two zombies with a dream. A dream of life and regular posting. And flesh.

I would once again like to use this space to post art and ramblings because sharing is good, right? It feels good. So share I shall. Wow, that's a tongue-twister sentence. I can only say it a few times before the words disintegrate.

That's all for now - no actual content today. Is this what they call a 'teaser'?

Allysia

7/4!

2008-08-12T01:38:00.003-06:00

It seems that most of my readers have already heard this....but alas, I post it anyway here.

So I started writing an idea, and lo and behold, it was in 7/4, a time signature I've never naturally written in. So I learned a bit about drum sequencing and threw this demo together. Hope you enjoy..

100th Post!

2008-08-06T20:13:00.003-06:00

I'm not really gonna say anything to celebrate this monumental occasion. It will come across very pretentious, like I'm giving a speech at an awards ceremony ("Thank you, all my many loyal fans and readers, you helped me get where I am today!" [insert cheesy teardrop]). Instead, I'm just gonna post a song idea, called 'I Have A Beautiful Dream'. Click the title to listen, in case you didn't figure it out already.

Suddenly I'm very nervous. I just thought, 'self, I will never have another 100th post ever again, and here I am, just piddling it away and not saying anything meaningful.' It's like when it's your birthday and you don't do anything, and then you feel all sad and unappreciated after. I don't want to feel like that!

FUCK IT! I have nothing to say! I will only sing for the occasion.

Allysia

*************************************************************************

So the foreign land brings me back.
I was almost there, the shores were warm.
And I touched the sand, found my way.
Sun was bright, why can't I stay?
You'll have to drag me screaming, I said
I won't just drift, I have a beautiful dream
You'll have to drag me screaming, I said
I won't just give in, I have a beautiful dream.

...And then the past surfaces
It's been so long since I felt like this.
Maybe I need to swim along,
'Cause I have never felt, I have never..
Maybe I need to swim along,
'Cause I have never felt a love like this.

..

Photos!

2008-07-14T11:52:00.003-06:00

Just as a head's up, I actually have all the essential equipment for my camera now (mini usb, a battery charger) so I can actually post pictures! I just emptied out a big stream on my photo blog, but I intend on trying to come up with a picture a day again. Even if I can't find anything too amazing to snap, it gets me in the habit of trying to find something beautiful and meaningful (or just plain weird) with each day, and I think that's a very positive thing! I hope maybe someone will join me on this creative exercise and mission! (It's harder to bail out or skip a day when someone else is doing it.....)

Also, I have a couple pictures of some members of Ashes Divide....I think the only ones who will care are Kat and Rob, so you should check them out! :)

Allysia

Apart

2008-07-07T22:48:00.004-06:00

So Doug and I came up with an idea that I thought I'd share because it's been a while. He sent me the first thing he'd written on his new epiphone casino? casio? Who knows. Anyway, he recorded a jam, and then I scribbled some things and recorded my jam over top of it. It's like a big jam party. Saskatoon berry, plum, all that good stuff.

Ally

(p.s. recording's on the low frequency side. it happens.)
______________________

Apart

The past came walking in today
Through the window with the dusty sunlight
A distant warmth on my skin
Got me thinking about you
(Just another reason to).

Staring blankly your words just disappear
Like smoke around my ears
You've already left so many times before that
You're just a ghost when you're here
And I don't mind

Yes I wanted a happy story
A healthy beautiful love
To look back at myself and say,
"Thank god I found you."
I still thank god I found you.

Satellite

2008-05-09T19:35:00.002-06:00

3

I've been walking around you orbiting your light and even though i'm so far from you, you still affect me tonight. i see you in blurry imagery surrounded by my projections god knows i'm still in love with you i gravitate in your direction - - if you want release all you have to do is CONSUME ME i'd rather be blinded than see another move in step with you .. i've been trying to hold on the atmosphere is breaking i feel like something has changed in you the space around you is shaking and you're burning with everything you've become and i love to see you shine but lately i'm suspecting it's not for me to find out what's inside. if you want release all you have to do is CONSUME ME i'd rather be blinded than see another move in step with you and i know you're doing everything you can to SAVE ME but you'll do whatever the hell it is you have to and i won't stop you

(incomple.t.e)

Gardenism

2008-04-17T11:34:00.003-06:00

Figured I should probably post.

I'm a little screwed with work. Have a lot to do today, have to go in and do some disc stuff and find some prizes...yet here I am, procrastinating.

I am attempting to garden this year. Starting a few of them indoors, and when it's no longer frosty, I'm using my auntie and uncle's farm to grow them. I plan on doing a significant amount. This year, I think I'm just going to plant the basics, and see how it goes. Next year I'll try growing more creatively, because I'll have a better idea of how the hell it works. I've never really gardened before, only weeded.

In case you care, I'm growing zucchini, tomatoes, broccoli, potatoes, carrots, cucumber, onions, peppers, and my mom bought watermelon seeds, so we're attempting those as well (though I'm not very optimistic about it). Also growing some herbs at my house, and I think I'm going to try spinach over here too. Hopefully something turns out.

I'm really interested in growing fruit as well, but there's very few varieties that don't demand a permanent location. Who knows where I'll be next year (hopefully not here).

Might try beans this year, we'll see how it goes.

Ally

2008-03-27T10:35:00.001-06:00

Woke up again struggling to find a connection
their voices reverberate laughter in a tunnel

I guess I'm preoccupied

2008-03-18T22:29:00.002-06:00

So Dylan's gone and deleted his blogs. What's going on? I'm sorry to have upset you, however it might have occurred.

Kelley, sorry for not being available Sunday eve, I was extremely pooched from jamming and would have been terrible company. If you don't have time prior, we should definitely hang out over the break.

Things are going really well with the band thing - we might even have all the bases covered. If the drummer we've recruited works out, things will be fantastic. We're jamming twice a week. I've been working my ass off, researching the indie musician's road, plotting out courses, working on details like bios, letterheads, imagery, photo ideas, website stuff, video, you name it, I'm all over it right now. Not to mention the recording and practicing. Not to mention all the disc work for the music festival.

I need money right now, maybe even more than independence. I'm not sure. You know what I mean. I'm very serious about music. I want to release an album, and play shows, and tour, and sell merch, and have a performance keyboard to lug around with me. I want to do it all. But dammit, this can be ever expensive and time consuming. I don't know if I'm willing to have my bank account sucked dry every month like before, because I need that cash more than ever now.

Who knows, maybe a solution will come jump out at me, a solution that will let everybody win. But my musical ambition is too important to sacrifice. I can't even apologize, I'm just not sorry at all. I just hope you understand.

Ally

The Dead Turtle

2008-03-13T10:46:00.003-06:00

I had a dream last night about an imminent war, and everyone was gonna die, yada yada. But what was really upsetting was looking out the window and seeing a long dead turtle. It's head was separated from it's shell, and it was dusty looking. Hollow and empty. My dream self was upsetted by this, but so was my waking self. And it's not just because I like turtles.

As far as I know, turtles symbolize spirit, in a nutshell, anyway. I was warned in the not-too-distant pass not to neglect the inner turtle. And now I'm dreaming she's dead? Good god. And then I review my life from the last few months, and it makes bloody sense. I've been acting like a cynical old lady who doesn't believe any damned thing. There are signs that, two years ago, would make my blood run cold or make me leap for joy, and now when I'm confronted with them, I shrug it off. It means nothing. How could signs and symbols exist? Reality exists! The rest is hogwash! ..When the hell did this happen to me?!

I guess something inside me said, "Hey, you don't need to connect with your spiritual self unless you're in real distress. Otherwise, if you're feeling fine, who the hell cares?" Unbelief is a strange place for me to be. I've always believed in everything.

The turtle was murdered. I murdered the turtle! Because turtles don't die of their own accord, that's the point. They don't age, they're practically immortal! But there are many things that can kill the turtle. No food, bad weather, predators....And from the way her corpse looked, she had been dead at least a month.

So how the hell do you revitalize a turtle? Do you just reverse your actions and hope for the best? I don't know. I don't believe in restoring the dead anymore.

On Physics and Postcards

2008-02-27T08:18:00.002-06:00

Dylan's telling me in his blog responses that physics is equivalent to ice cream. Or that it's make belief. Or something. I don't know how the hell he said it, but KNOW THIS!!!!!!! Physics is beautiful! Science of the subtle intricacies of life! Alternate dimensions! String theories! Chaos theories! It goes on and on and on! How is that false?! How is it untrue?!?!?!??!

I was going to throw some links at you, but I decided against it. You're lucky....this time.

In other news, I got a postcard from Rob! I was delighted. It was very confusing at first, though, to see a Buddha photo on my table. I was all, "What the hell? When did my mom start lovin' the Buddha?!" In fact, I was even mildly disappointed when I found out it wasn't hers. However, when I saw my name on it, I was all, "WOOT! I GOT MAIL!" Because it's exciting to get mail. Unless it's bills. But even then, it's still like a twisted christmas, because you're all like, "how much is it going to be THIS month?!" So there's still an element of surprise. Which almost makes it fun and exciting. Almost.

I'll be spending the next couple weeks at work, all day and all night, or at least that's how it feels. I have to go in the morning and make everyone discs (accompanyment to their piano pieces) so they can sound good at their festival. And then in the afternoon, I start teaching. And so on etc, until I finally have everything done. So don't expect much from me, blog-wise or time-wise. And even if I do have time for social goodness, my brain won't be in it 100%. Please be kind about this. I'm very sensitive to teasing.

Oh, but I must go now, to eat and fulfill my obligations to the world. I'm sure in the greater scheme of things, this all has a purpose. I'm sort of expecting a karmic reward, is that wrong of me?

Ally

Lightswitch Madness!

2008-02-21T11:25:00.003-06:00

The light thing works! It really works!!! *leaps about in joy*

So I was dreaming, you know how it goes. In dreamland, it was early in the morning, maybe around seven or so. I had just woken up after an arduous day at work. I was wondering if Dylan was going to text about grabbing a quick smoke in the morning, before he went to school. I really didn't know what time it was, or what time he had school.

Anyhoo, I woke up, walked up the stairs, and the first thought that occured to me was to do the lightswitch test. I don't know why I had this thought - I was expecting everything to be normal. In dreams, you rarely suspect that you're actually dreaming. But lo and behold, when I flicked the lightswitch, the light just stayed on! I was stunned and amazed! At that moment, everything became clearer, like suddenly I had all of this power and freedom. I was self-aware! I was lucid! Woo hoo!

My first reaction after the amazement of functioning in dreamworld consciously was to try and send a text message. It was all haywire, of course. I knew there was a message on the phone from Dylan, but I couldn't read it. I managed to send him a message, but not before T9 word nearly sent me off the deep end...

The next thing I did was pet Luna. I was amazed that she responded like normal. See, I guess at this point I figured that since I was lucid, it must be reality. I got over that thought eventually.

After that, I started an adventure. Through my backyard was this crazy, desolate terrain, but I was not afraid. This is dreamworld! Let's go do shit!

I admit that it was the thought about sex that tipped me out of this state. I thought, "Hey, I could have sex with anyone!" After thinking that, I remember having a feeling of being back in my own bed, like the dream was over. I sighed (still dreaming), but I learned a lesson. Then I carried on, but not lucidly.

So a warning to all of you - if you're actually experiencing a lucid dream (it was my first time), don't ruin it with your inner perversion! Keep your physical self on a leash! That's my advice.

Ally

Hootenanny! Shenanigans! Shindigs!

2008-02-18T14:15:00.003-06:00

So I figured I'd throw in a quick post about yesterday, because Dylan's description was rather limited.

Last night, Kelley and I went out for a beverage, which was all well and good. The excitement started when we went over to Dylan, Sarah and Jessie's place, where rambunctious hootenanny ensued. Armed with a 24 of vodka and some sprite, Dylan and I silently competed for the awesome prize of best drinker. It was a tough call to say who would be the victorious one - especially when you threw in the wildcard variable of pot...

The evening was pleasant, and we played the who/what/where/when/why game, which stirred up everyone's inner vulgarity. Perversion and poop comments took center stage, with Radmacher being involved in every story, despite his absence from the household. What a powerful presence he must have, to be continuously referenced even when he's not there! But he was supposed to be there. O, where were the boys?

Scott was supposed to appear, seeing as it was his going away party. But apparently he thought it would be more fun to get drunk and miss it. We all shed a tear, and said an angry word or two. Who did that fiend think he was, skipping his own damn party?

Finally, the boys showed up, a party of two. We drank more, smoked more, and played more of the game, which became more intense by the minute. Inside jokes threatened to kill Dylan with laughter. Harsh words flew around about polyester pants and lab coats. Allysia and Radmacher engaged in an argument, their most favourite pasttime of all. And despite all of the madness, the night ended in handshakes and compassionate forgiveness. And, we suspect, a continual oblivion of the victim surrounded by a thick cloud of inside jokes - though Dylan and the boys came close to giving it all away.

Everyone began filtering out, journeying to their beds, or to future locations filled with booze. I found myself rather zippy and in no mood to call it quits. Luckily, Dylan was of the same mind. As everyone drifted off, we were the sole survivors of the party, intoxicated but going strong. The competition grew in intensity. We drank more, and Dylan fired up the bowl. Determined not to be shown up, I matched his move with vigor. Proudly, I held my self-control, and started on a long tangeant about particles, quarks, the akashic field, and the interconnectedness of all life. This proved to be a mighty force to Dylan, who could not digest my intellect. My motor skills were in better shape; it was looking as though I would win the party throne. That is, until Dylan threw the final punch. He fired it up; I had to follow. But it was downhill from there. In fact, the punch threw me down a great mountain, and I was defeated. Was it my fault for being so arrogant? Had I earned the shame?!

Though in my heart, I think we tied. Lasting until four in the morning, almost finishing the vodka, and me facing my deep, dark smoking fears, while still being coherent and alert - we both were the champions. Hopefully Dylan agrees.

Anyway, I should actually go do something productive now. Enjoy family day!

Allysia

Black Curtains

2008-02-16T18:34:00.002-06:00

Hello again,

I found an old poem, probably from a year and a half ago. Just thought I would share.

-----------------------------
Black Curtains

Quiet like the cold
I lost my soul in the shadows of dreams
What do I mean?

The light cannot drag me to it's end
Where does it go?
My shadow grows so old

Help I'm in the frozen empty
Nothing's real nothing's alive
Too far away in your dreams
To remember what it means
So you try to build floorboards
Footing in a transparent world
Try to peel back the black curtains
Just to find you're too uncertain to see
And you have made yourself blind.

In the frozen empty I found
Infinite possibility
Nothing is tied to me
And I'm drifting 'round the empty spaces
Tracing lines in the rifts of time
To make meaning;
To take it and make it mine.
Before the idea there was me
Floating in a transparent world
Projecting a film on black curtains

And I sculpt as my flesh
Create like my god
I am the rhythm of the waves
The bones in the graves
The dark before dawn
The ground I stand on
One splits into two
What else could we do
But multiply and divide
Stretching through the wide spaces of mind
Until you're so far along the veins of this heart..
Can I turn back?
Can I go home?
But what else could I do
But fall back into you
As close as one could get
In the division of two.

There was never a plan
For the intricate design of a life
Yet I feel like I was always yours
Just a pale glimmer
A spark in my frozen empty
Sunlight burns away the black curtains
And I become the film of apparitions
A thought that thinks itself true.

quickie

2008-02-16T09:16:00.003-06:00

So I'm sipping coffee in anticipation of work, which looms ahead of me in an hour and ten minutes. It's surprising that after a night of strange dreams and a general restlessness, I don't feel too tired.

The day ahead isn't doom-filled, either. It's a really easy day, I have breaks every hour, practically.

Apparently there's some family-related event tonight, but I might bunk out of that, since I don't know them very well, and small talk makes me awkward. Who knows, my mom is a mighty nudger.

Not much else to say, except maybe that Doug looks sexy onstage with a guitar!

Have fun!

Whee!

The Evil Horrors Of Facebook!

2008-02-11T10:45:00.000-06:00

Hello,

I've just recently stumbled upon a dramatic truth, one that I've known for a while, but never really accepted inside. The truth is that Facebook is a creativity-zapping time-waster. I discussed this with Rob once, and we both agreed that the blogging world went to hell as soon as Facebook entered the picture. Well, of course! Facebook has zombies, and quick little profile updates, and meaningless games! One could easily see it's shiny allure, one could easily understand why everyone would flock to this, and abandon (sometimes) intelligent ramblings and friendly communities of such!

See, folks, it's like choosing TV over a good book, or a good journal. TV will beat all of your senses into sedation if you let it. Flashy colors, things happening a mile a minute, music to tell you what to feel, and the images erasing any mental imaginings. This is Facebook's power, yes, it's true!

So the lesson for me is, Facebook has killed my urge to blog! But this will be no more! I have returned to the blogging world with a veangance! No more will I spend my time meaninglessly carousing people's names and zombie points! That time will be spent reading, and writing, important and interesting things. DAMN YOU, FACEBOOK!

Allysia

(P.S. I'm not actually sending any hate to Facebook. It has it's own purpose. And me blaming Facebook for all my problems is really just a cover-up for my own insecurities. It's just, well, I'm going to spend less time on Facebook now, more time back with my blogger.)

(P.P.S. I'm not really sending my hate to TV, either. Though about 95% of programming is junk, and commercials will turn you into a zombie if you're not careful, there's actually some extremely valuable, helpful, and artistic programs out there that actually expand your mind, instead of close it with a manipulative passion.)

Omigod A Post!!!!

2008-02-10T20:12:00.000-06:00

The world appears to me as beautiful, ripe with possibilities, enchanted, an experience worth preserving, and I am terrified of death in this wave. The other eye views violence and impending doom, an apocalypse in waiting, and I am terrified to be alive. Why here, why now? Why the need to pick up the pen, to speak to you, wherever you are? I want to know you and love you, but perhaps you will never love me.

* * *

2007-10-18T17:26:00.000-06:00

About this time last year, I wrote a song. Here it is.

Lots of changes going on as of late. There are a number of people who really don't like me right now, which is an unfortunate (but expected) consequence of my decisions. Part of me cheers - Hey, I'm actually trying to do what I want for me, instead of trying to keep those around me happy with me - yay! The other part of me is not so jolly. There's been some hard calls. And I'm the enemy in this situation, not the victim.

Yeah, I'll miss being with someone who loves me.

Oh well. I don't have the right.

Allysia

------------------------------------------

Emily Haines - Our Hell

First went wrong is hard to find
We're paralyzed, we apologize
Our hell is a good life
Last went wrong, where's my prize under the lights
Can we call it in?
We'll be on the road
Can we stop?
When we stop my back will turn your face toward the fence

What I thought it was it isn't now

All this weight, is honest worse
We're moderate, we modernize
till our hell is a good life
All we know what to forget...how to do right
Coloring in the black hole
Can't we stop? when we stop
My hands will shake, my eyes will burn
My throat will ache, watching you turn
From me toward your friends

What I thought it was it isn't now
What I thought it was it isn't
Punishment to stall what is done
What I thought was in is missing out
What I thought it was it isn't now

There's a pattern in the system
There's a bullet in the gun
That's why I tried to save you
But it can't be done

Quiet, You'll Miss the Moment

2007-09-28T21:48:00.000-06:00

Was the price you paid
Worth what it's made of?
In the minutes you gave,
Was just a life you made up.

You're here and then you're gone,
Pick it up and move on.
It won't be long until dawn.

Darling you walked away, carrying the days.
I want to know, do you feel
You're better off this way?

Everything will be okay,
I'll be strong when you're gone.
The colors fill the grey,
I am here where I belong.

I don't know where I'm from,
I don't know where I'm going.
But the feeling's what I'm here for,
I believe in love.
I believe in love.
I believe in love.

A Thought On Autumn Waves

2007-09-14T20:25:00.000-06:00

The air sharpens slowly, kindly going for the kill - I often wonder about these familiar feelings - I can pinpoint them to autumns' past, but even then I could not describe it. Perhaps I'm on a wheel with the world, cycling and recycling those waves. If you could know how it feels, how the world has lifted. A sure softness surrounds the moment, the cars and their noise become atmospheric, present but not obnoxious, this smooth block in time.

I'm washed out of myself just a little. Is is sadness, is it peace, is it love? Is this the truth of my heart, this feeling? As though something is missing, and it's the warmest tone of melancholy. Warm in the sharp air of a dying world.

Or perhaps, in these moments, I do not feel lonely anymore; everything is dying with me.

Beauty In the Breakdown

2007-09-13T22:51:00.001-06:00

It's grainy and frazzled but it's how I feel.
Watched Garden State again.
Later homies.
________________________________________________
Beauty In the Breakdown - Frou Frou

Drink up baby down,
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing a tragedy
These mess-ups
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So, let go, jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

It gains the more it gives
And then advances with the form
So, honey, back for more
Can't you see that all the stuff's essential?
Such boundless pleasure
We've no time for later
Now you can wait
You roll your eyes
We've twenty seconds to comply

So, let go, jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's al right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

Forty-Five Minutes Late...

2007-09-13T00:46:00.001-06:00

...But hey, at least I came through in the end. This is Dylan, caught exposed in a moment of emo-ness. A-HA! Maybe my shitty photography skills will turn into an ability to capture the heart, raw and exposed! ...One can be optimistic.

And a gold star if you know where the picture was taken! (Aside from you, Dylan)

Ally

Baby Frankenstein

2007-09-11T23:28:00.001-06:00

One of my students got creative (and distracted) during class.....

And All the Colours Combined...

2007-09-10T10:30:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, my spirit got a nice sunshower. It left me feeling very clean and refreshed inside. This picture is symbolic of those nice, calm moments that seem ever so difficult to come by in a world buzzin' on caffeine. Speaking of caffeine, I quit coffee! At first it was going to be a very temporary thing, but it's been a few weeks now, and I don't miss it so much anymore. Instead, I'm very interested in tea. So many amazing flavours and varieties! These days, it seems tea is the proper drink for me.
.

Another reason I posted this image is because it's loosely remniscent of Dylan's epic dream....

That's all for now.

Ally

Beer!

2007-09-09T12:00:00.000-06:00

So I'm no photographer, but I was inspired by an idea a long time ago to blog one photo a day. Some other dude did it, and I thought, "Hey, that would be really fun!" Now that I've actually figured out how to utilize my phone's camera (My digicam is broken), it seems like an ideal opportunity to try. Obviously every day won't hold the meaning of life, but still!

So a photo a day. If any of you are really bored, or needing some life games, feel free to participate in my adventure. And I'll try my best to keep it going for longer than a week.

Pidgeon!

2007-09-07T21:03:00.000-06:00

Reflect Reject

2007-09-06T18:35:00.000-06:00

Hello,

My days have been coloured by an impending autumn melancholy, leaving my songs drenched in a dreamy sort of haze. It's either that or the Sigur Ros. This is the mood's product. It's a weird time in my life. And it's being left largely unexpressed...

Waffle

Waiting...

2007-08-11T13:43:00.000-06:00

Autumn cleans this air, it
Builds a new illusion.
It cuts through the clouds,
Completes the revolution.

I don't know how I got so far,
So deep into the dark
I don't know why, or what we are,
Or how it came apart.

And still
So much for you.

I feel an old innocence
Cleaning out my sins
I am that girl, a moment I'm sure
She's waiting in my skin.

And still
So much for you.

Coming Clean

2007-08-07T21:06:00.000-06:00

Watching you breathe
I'm coming clean
This sun burns away my wasted time
We're dying but you're driving
And you don't know where you're going
But you're ready to find out
And in everything that you've been
I'm coming clean
And in everything that you mean
I'm coming clean

Hippie Dreams

2007-07-29T00:53:00.000-06:00

Here you go.

Life is so important, too important to waste on frivolous choices. This is the problem with choice. Everything you choose should be your best attempt at perfect alignment with what you really mean, what you really need, what you have to give. Should should should. Fuck should!

If I'm not making the most of my opportunities, then I'm wasting my time. If I'm not being the best of what I could be, then I'm wasting myself. If I just have this habit of locking myself in little rooms for the stupid sake of comfort, then I'm not a freedom-loving hippie, I'm just like them. But there is no them! This is the lesson of Pink Floyd. The division destroys us all. Us and them. No no no no no! Just us! JUST US!

When people's secrets drift through your window. Oh what does it mean. Does it mean everything, is it an ultimate sign, is the world so subjective? Or does it mean nothing, unrelated circumstances, nothing connects? A peace-loving hippie would never have the doubt. I'm Peter on the water.

I think....To feel your demon is to know your god.
It's not above or beyond, please, though I know nothing, I think it must be true, in the most idealized of ways, please no, not above, not beyond, but in front of you, everywhere, around, inside, you're wrapped-up surrounded by god.

Kat, I am reminded of one high time in your basement, it was so amazing, the music was playing and I stared at my shoes, because I was very high and not wanting to give the game away. "Maintaaaain" played through my head, so I avoided all eye contact, play it cool, man, the way they do. Anyway, tiny, frantic strings of light wavered around me, blue, electric, and I could feel the heat of it on my body, like those weird, contained balls of lightning that attract to your fingers when you touch it. A heat like that.

So these two blue beams wavered, and rose slowly, until they were hovering around my eyes. And I was amazed but tried to pretend that I wasn't hallucinating. What a weak one I was, so high to be hallucinating! So I casually looked up, to see the source of the little twitchy blue beams, and it turned out that Kat was looking at me! I was shocked! This was an interesting experience, that much was for sure. I could see Kat's eye-beams. They were blue, and would turn red too. But only blue and red. When she looked over at Rob, they were red.

Ever since, I've had thoughts about what this means. They wavered in the way that eye-focus always wavers. So I wonder if you directly focus your eyes, trying to hold them as still as you can, will that make your focus more potent? Would that change the look of the beams? I suspect that they would grow in strength. So I figure that if you practice holding your gaze, you can send intense eye-beams in a single glance. ..This hasn't led to much, except I've discovered that it helps in seeing auras, for some reason.

But it's a good time to stop the rambling now.

Ally

Sparks

2007-07-02T16:51:00.000-06:00

Hey all,

I've been busy the past while, but I've been grooving in the recent creative spirit. This is just something random I've come up with. More exist, but I am far too shy to be so bold. It's pretty empty of tracks, as this is one of my slacker tracks. It needs some guitar, and whatever else the song desires, but...meh. Here it is for now.

I promise I'll stop neglecting you soon, blogger my dear.

Ally

____________________________________

Since I have shitty recording equipment and enunciation issues, here are lyrics:

Sparks
Just could you pretend we're moving on
And nothing's wrong,
That thoughts of you don't consume me,
Burn me up again.
I want to lay these fires down to rest,
Sort through the mess
And rebuild again,
Fill up again.

But the sparks just never end.
This construct never bends.
The only thing that could not fall
Is the thing that built it all.

I want to give you everything you need,
Give you me,
And we'd move forward,
Toward some kind of a dream.
Then we could taste the place
That we made,
Feel it again,
Fill up again.

The sparks just never end.

The Mirror

2007-06-16T11:37:00.000-06:00

I saw you like a dream,
Staring into me.
I said, "Come inside,
It's been raining out for years."

You said, "You can't drown a fish,
And I can't breathe your air,
But if I had the choice,
I would go anywhere with you."

I see through the mirror,
You speak but I can't hear.
Even if I turn around
I won't see you.

Replay the moments,
Say it was for me.
The stray will wander
'Round endlessly,
And whisper in the darkness,
"I think it could be."

2007-04-07T23:36:00.000-06:00

So here I sit, typing on a very unfortunate keyboard rest, broken, making each letter I type a catastrophe of the highest order, a wobbly misfortune. I am in the basement as people laugh upstairs, their voices reverberating through the vents. I hide. This dingy basement is my resting place for the evening. I fear the bugs.

We journeyed to Saskatoon on this day, for an Easter at my dad's. We drank, we played games, one of which I lost impressively.

I met a mini-Derek, a shy little Cappy boy, timid and jolly.

Aside from the roadtrip of interesting conversations with the mother, and the regular huge-gathering hootenanny, there really isn't much to say. I just felt it had been too long since the last post. I needed to make amends with my blog. Blog has grown reclempt. Blog thinks I've left him for a new, better-dressed communicating system. No, blog, you're still the only one for me! A little rough around the edges, sure, but I like your worn-in feel. You're cozy like that old chair that you never get around to throwing away. But I would never throw that chair away. I would keep it until it decomposed, that's how powerful my love is. Our love transcends time and termites.

Ally

On Weather, Injury, SNES and Books

2007-03-15T10:12:00.000-06:00

Hello, my internet chums.

Today is the day that ends in blizzard. Well, no, that's yesterday. Today it's just snowy. The driveway appeared to me as a giant slab of paper, and I drew a huge heart with my feet. Do you know how hard it is to proportion these things when they're on a large scale? My heart ended up being demented and oblong. After I finished, I wondered if I should have attempted to draw something more interesting...so I leaped and made a smiley face in the heart. I know, I know, it's so original and potent with depth. But my auntie was on call last night, and before she drove over my heart dude, she saw him and all her troubles washed away for a moment (Or so I optimistically speculate). So the mission was accomplished.

So the weather has been teasing us with thoughts of spring. I think that the weather has a very mean sense of humor. However, though it's toyed with my feelings up until now, there will be no more. It's March - anything can happen - do what you will, O Weather, One Who Likes Getting A Laugh On The Hopeful. I will not curse you any longer. I will not treat the warm weather as though it is here to stay. There will be no more laughs on me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Suddenly I feel like I'm in elementary school again. Though I was firmly against abusing exclamation points even then...

So yesterday I fell down a few wooden stairs at my house. I was all, "ouch! Yearg!" And Luna looked at me very curiously, and dare I say, worriedly. But the searing pain in my back had lessened, so I got up and brushed myself off. Pish, a minor flesh wound. But as I returned to the computer, I was struck by a heat wave (or perhaps it was endorphins) and started falling over. Was I dying?!??!?! No. Just passing out. Though my body was falling over and not standing well, because of all the fuzziness, my brain was coherent. "No! Fight the fuzziness! Do not pass out!" And then I layed down and the fuzziness dissipated. So I watched an E! Hollywood True Story (Punky Brewster) and then it was all good, except for the bruise. It's an unusual bruise. A line runs three inches parallel to my spine, almost directly on it. The base of this line is a lump. And bruised backs are annoying. If your leg is bruised, whatever...but you put pressure on your back all the time, so every time you sit, or bend, or lay down, the pain awaits.

Anyway, I think that was such a spectacular event for me because I've never almost passed out before. It was a new experience.

Last night, Derek was stranded at my house, so we had a slumber party with gossip, booze, and SNES. SNES is one of the best gaming systems, in my heart, anyway. See, original Nintendo knew it was primitive. It openly admitted it, saying, “The games are simple, but hell, what else are you gonna play?’ Super Nintendo, on the other hand, was all, “Check me out! I’m revolutionary! My graphics are almost 3-D and the gameplay is amazing!” SNES is so proud of itself. Thus, it’s very fun to play. The graphics are silly, so you’re always grinning, because it was trying so hard. Not to mention the games are just fun.

I read ‘1984’ by George Orwell last week. If you haven’t read it, you should. It’s so wonderful and disturbing. And now I’m reading ‘Midnight’s Children’ by Salman Rushdie. This man is quite wonderful. His entire books are rambles, that’s why they’re so long. He’ll be talking about the character’s huge nose, and then discuss at length the life of the grandpa with the huge nose, and how the grandpa came about learning that this was a wonderful thing, and then, after many pages, circle back to the main character, and then some other detail will be explained, like the full history of it. His writing style makes the rambles fun, though. Sometimes he can go entire paragraphs without a period. “…While I sit like an empty pickle jar in a pool of Anglepoised light..”

Meanwhile, Doug and I are scrambling to get a sort of album put together of our material. If everything goes on, there will be something like 21 songs, but I’m hoping we’ll cut it down a bit. This project ambitiously hopes to be done within a week, and after that, “Kat Has the Key” songs require my attention.

So that’s what’s going on. Happy snow day, everyone!

Allysia

The Dream Of Bugs

2007-03-09T10:11:00.000-06:00

I had at least one hundred bugs - all bright and different-coloured, some larger, some tiny - some even looked like miniature lizards. There was a side attachment to my house, sort of an enclosed deck, and this is where my bugs lived for a year.

This deck was divided into three portions. I decided to relocate the bugs in the third area - I found a huge container for them to be transferred into their new home. But I still had to set up their new home!

I wondered how my bugs survived for a year without any food - and then I realized they lived off the newspaper that lined their room! But I didn't realize this until later. Because I put hamburgers under the newspaper so they could survive in their new area.

I took the second container of bugs, after emptying the first, and went out on a magickal journey.

I was with a few people, Carly being one of them. We journeyed through Regina, a hyper-creepy version, but that's not hard to imagine. Carly was taking care of the second container - but when she brought it back to me, it had snow all over it!

Snow had gotten into the container, and my poor bugs were all drowned and dead. I was both disturbed by the floating corpses, and upset. Being in a vehicle at this point, I realized my only option was to throw the container out the window. The container took impossible flight in the air, and I closed my eyes and willed it to land on the head of an evildoer.

This journey continued, but I don't remember the rest.

I arrived home - the snow was everywhere. I asked Carly to close the back gate for me, so no one would wander in my yard.

At home in the new cage, the hamburgers had been removed - the work of Derek. I thanked him for saving my bugs from my temporary idiocy.

Meanwhile, it was chaos. All of my bugs had escaped and were roaming around in the house! I cursed. I had not been watching my step, and so I figured I squashed a bunch. I grabbed a container and went bug hunting.

A few were easy to find, like the ugly green blob guy, who boasted black stripes. There was a larger orange guy who practically glowed, and I found him too.

But the tiny bugs I could not find. I had thought them as so handsome, too. Oh well, I had to think about building the survivors a new, foolproof home, one they couldn't escape from.

In my top drawer I pulled out some little decorations for a new home, a fake plastic tree, a fake green bench. I knew my bugs would like that - if only I could find them. Tired from a long day, I decided to go to sleep.

I awoke from the dream feeling sentimental and twitchy. The lingering thought of my little dudes crawling on me as I slept wasn't very pleasant, but then I thought, hey, those bugs are cool.

The End.

(What's the moral of THAT story?)

Outside the Walls

2007-03-02T10:58:00.000-06:00

Outside the Walls

The thin circles of noise
Are shallow waves against my illness
Heat that draws up
The fires consuming the world in there
Could be one or a million
Could be beautiful or
Waiting to kill me
I can sense their heartbeats and I feel
It's out of my head and
It's gotten in somehow
Outside the walls
Shadows crawl in my mind
Outside the walls
Ominous overtones in my mind
they're all make-believe out there
Am I to blame for the distortions
A little fear turns into the
Mistake that kills you and
In your wake you
Fake your own life
And how to walk through the open door
How to pull through
How to mask out the windows on the floor
Implore and truth
Is through the war
Walk through the war
Outside the walls
Outside the walls
Outside the walls...

Sick

2007-02-19T13:52:00.000-06:00

Hello, fellow bloggers. How art thou on this fine afternoon?

Spring is arriving. I felt the emotional stirrings a week ago. This is a jolly thing. We should cheer.

Went to a Linger show on Friday. Fucken good job, Rob.

So things are changing. I start a full-time job tomorrow. I will be moving out by late spring, assumedly. Doing some jamming with Kat Has the Key next month.

Here's an older song that I've redone with the benefits of direct line-in. Still work in progress, but a little closer to what I want from it.

Peace out.

Ally

Happy V-Day.

2007-02-15T18:20:00.000-06:00

So here's something depressing that I was working on. Enjoy! (It's evidently incomplete. The next segment appears to be a big question mark.)

Haven't been up to much else. Got a full-time job. Haven't started though.

I'm in hardcore work mode right now, my brain is all, "Do this, and this and this!" So I don't have the time I'd like to sit down, chill out and gib. So I'll just leave it at this.

Ally

***

Every word inside comes out unclean
Don't want to taint you.
Express the truth, but I don't know what I mean
It'll hurt you.
(My mouth is poison.)

I want to hold your gaze, connect to you
But then you'll see me
Ugly, cold, exposed, examinate me
It's all true
I'll just hurt you.
I'll just hurt you.

Circus Melancholy, a sidenote

2007-01-31T13:00:00.000-06:00

Animals caged, animals insane
Animals on display
Pushing candy in my mouth
I suck on the sweet decay
Lie to the children, smile to the children
Tell me we'll be okay
Whitewashed red walls
Secrets in the dirt
Bury the truth
It's like a circus for me
I want to believe

A Demented Narrative

2007-01-29T05:19:00.000-06:00

As a Libra, deciding what to eat can be a horrendous process, not to mention deciding what to do in my life, where to go and so on. For a good many years, I've had it in my head that music was the thing for me. Me and music, meant to be. For years I was happily married to the dream. But then, things started to go terribly awry. Life said, "Start paving your fucken dreams, or just settle down with a simpler life, kid." Me, a natural tweak, think long and hard - "I can't handle immense pressure." (But I can.) Or, "I'm incompetent when left to my own devices." (But I thrive in a group setting.) This goes on and on and on. For at least a year, I've been looking at music (rather skeptically), and I've been looking everywhere else too.

Things were slipping. I started to believe myself when I said, "You cannot be the music! You are not talented, nor are you dedicated to anything. Look at your life thus far! Failure!" And I wasn't the only one to believe it.

I wanted to be special; I shed it like snakeskin. I thought people would love and appreciate me if I could actually do this thing. I just wanted to prove I was capable of above-ordinary feats. Then they would know I was strong. And my apparent weirdness wouldn't be looked upon in such a negative light. But what does this matter to me now? I'm not special, nor am I strong, nor is my strangeness unordinary. I'm just a human being, nothing more, nothing less.

Silly desire to be appreciated aside, music was a venue for my angst. As a young teenager, I was unable to communicate the new depths of what I was feeling, except through music. In this respect, music gave me great pleasure, more than art ever did, which was a road I had considered pursuing since I was young as well, a road urged by my family. It didn't take too long to realize that I was limited with that tool. I saw some of my friends, so naturally gifted with visual art, and I could readily accept that it wasn't for me. I have a stack of papers saying that writing is a way I easily express myself, but how to set a mood, an atmosphere with writing - how to transfer a feeling? I've experimented long and hard with the written word, but it comes short of music.

Then there comes a time where you have to wonder, "What's the point of being an artist? What practical good could I possibly do?" You look at people who are going to third world countries to help out, you look at charities, doctors, etc ad infinitum, all these people who want to help humanity first-hand, with more than mere feelings and concepts. You feel inadequate. You feel that what you're doing is not good enough. You sincerely want to help, but art is too abstract. It's not real enough.

So you consider other options, more tangible options. A few of them sound appealing, and so you seriously consider them. Soon it feels like a better idea than music, it's a more realistic path than something you've been dreaming up for years. You start to give up on this dream, sincerely give up. This is messy, emotional, and terrible, just like any good divorce is. And then you're signing the final papers. "I'm really fucking done with this," are the words you're about to mutter.

You have scoffed at fate, but somehow it intervenes right at that last second, like any movie. Several events, which I won't get into, happen all at once, slapping you in the face, saying, "What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"

You take these signs very seriously, and then you embrace music wholly. 100%. It doesn't matter if music is impractical, it's what you are, and you have to make it mean everything you can.

No more than a few days later, everything is thrown into upheaval. Everything changes. Decisions are quickly made, old friendships are stirred up, new ones form. Suddenly you're becoming a different person. Someone you want to become. Life says, "So you've decided? You're ready for this?" And then it begins to throw you hurdles, and new situations. I say, BRING IT ON!

Ally

Allysia Makes the Quantum Leap

2007-01-19T18:11:00.000-06:00

Everyone's always posting their art, so why can't I?
(Too shy - it's never good enough.
Just kick me.)

The first one is something I threw together last year, trying to replicate a stoned moment through sound.

The other one is a just a little idea I had last night. See, this is me trying to be all, "see, I can casually post my most recent creative ideas, aren't I cool?"

The undertones of this post read, "I'm indefinitely insecure about this and I'm making a huge step forward by posting ideas. You see, I realized that if I don't post my ideas, and instead wait until they're fully finished and perfect, then you'll never hear anything. And I want to share myself, flaws and all."

So that's it, then.

Allysia

Thoughts That Sound Like Me

2007-01-08T15:47:00.000-06:00

Blizzard currents
Exposing the undertones
Erasing the torrents of the violent unknown.

Obscured by the vision
Unsure repetition
Melt into another indecision.

I'm a rambler. Waterfall of thought, collect my coherence in little bits here and there.
To gather a thoughtstream in a precise word
Then string them together.

I get the strange lesson feeling. That chord in my soul that rings when I hear something that's disguising some sort of life lesson. Like when you're hitting those brick things with your head in Mario, with the hopes that you'll stumble across a coin. Coins, after all, buy you an extra life.
...Does that mean that cats are life lesson masters?

My self-image is distorted by my intense bias. Why do I feel this way as the music plays? It takes me somewhere. I'm all rapid in life and desperate for it as I hunch over the paper, pouring out thoughts because there could be a tragic no tomorrow.

Perhaps I turned off my intuition because all I felt with it was this intense weirdness, followed by the heavy truth of death. The heavy truth of death. How do you lighten the load. How can people still stand. How do they avoid the mystery of their own existence, and the sad inevitability of their own death?

Being mortal sucks!

So I hunch and I franticize like there might be no tomorrow. I feel like neither a child or a woman; I'm a mysterious hybrid. Guess it's called me. Guess these roles really are a collective fantasy that very few sincerely maintain.

He had called me his Libra woman. I insisted that I was not a woman, but he wouldn't have it. Instead, he said his point more emphatically, and as he looked at me, his face of content knowingness, like what he said was an unmistakeable life truth, that's when I found the coin in the brick square. I nearly saw a different view. Almost like I'm non-corporeal. So transparent? I walk through walls. So nearly disconnected.

Sick, sick world

2007-01-05T02:22:00.000-06:00

Conditioning.
. con·di·tioned, con·di·tion·ing, con·di·tions

To make dependent on a condition or conditions.
To stipulate as a condition.
To render fit for work or use.
To accustom (oneself or another) to; adapt: had to condition herself to long hours of hard work; conditioned the troops to marches at high altitudes.
To air-condition.
To give the unsatisfactory grade of condition to.
Psychology To cause an organism to respond in a specific manner to a conditioned stimulus in the absence of an unconditioned stimulus.

http://www.adbusters.org/
*I'm tempted to write a running commentary on the videos, particularily "The Christmas Con" and "Spreading Joy In Iraq", which offend me on every level imaginable, but why spend three days reading a rant of mine, when you can just see for yourself and form your own opinion on the horrendous displays of moral decay?

http://www.twisterbait.com/videos (check out the video "Let's Go Shopping")

http://www.popaganda.com/

http://www.peta.org/

http://deoxy.org/

http://www.freehugcampaign.com/
*If, instead of getting outraged at the human populus, you would prefer to see something a little more on the bright side, watch this as a healthy alternative.

Ally

Ye Poetic String

2007-01-02T23:32:00.000-06:00

Dearest blogger,

I feel as though I have been neglecting you, but that's just because I have. So to make up for lost time, I've posted a string of poems. Will you ever forgive me?

From,
Allysia

Dizzy

2007-01-02T23:29:00.000-06:00

Elevate reality
The missing piece of me
Elevate reality
The missing piece of me created me.

Electricity in your fingertips
Electricity in your eyes
Craving reaches through divides
Craving multiplies

Elevate reanimate
What's left in the ruins?
Elevate reanimate
What's left in the ruins is myself.

Suffocating Grey.

2007-01-02T23:25:00.000-06:00

A surreal cloud of a day
In the mindless focus
The world swirls 'round in heavy grey
This is the new way.

Dulls the edges of my dreams
Until I don't know what it means anymore.
Dulls the edges of these scenes
And I don't know what I mean anymore.

Disorientations

2007-01-02T23:22:00.000-06:00

Wasted in the wreckage
Heavy in the damage
Cost is high once it dies

Poisoned in the metaphor
Yourself, what you pay for
Life's at stake when you're awake

This is all that's left
Now will it be saved?
This is all that's left
Just digging me a grave

Swim right through the part,
Through the dirty lake
Ruins in the mud
Look at this mistake
Poison in your blood
Everything's at stake
Everything's at stake
Everything's at stake

Heavy.

2007-01-02T21:03:00.000-06:00

Move in then pull back
Reach out and retract
I dreamt you were split in two
I was the other you

Picking Up the Pieces

2007-01-02T20:58:00.000-06:00

Chasing myself in the blinding black
Hiding in the shadows from my horror.
These warm hands want to bring me back
Into beautiful borders.
The forgotten design.

In this divide we're living out lies
Step outside terrified to collide
In this divide we're building the skies
Find a way to get back inside.

I'm picking up the pieces that were left behind.
I'm picking up the fragments of my broken mind.
I am climbing steps that take me
Closer to the place I want to be.

Severance; The thin string stretched too tight
When I'm running out of myself.
There you are as dawn to the dark night
Still I'm scared to really see
And how far I've fallen out of me.

In this divide we're splitting to sides
A run outside in the million lines
In this divide swim against the tides
Find a way to get back inside

You're everything I needed
It's real if you believe it
So nearly defeated
It's real if you believe it

The Life and Death of Mr. Badmouth

2006-12-12T16:10:00.000-06:00

Baby, you've got a bad, bad mouth
Everything is poison that's coming out
Cheating, lying since the day you were born
Someone ought to rinse it out with soap

Wash it out, wash it out, wash it out

No kind words are coming out of your mouth
Plenty goes in but nothing good comes out
Bad mouth, sad mouth, you were an unhappy child
That doesn't make your lying tongue all right

Wash it out, wash it out, wash it out

'Cause everything is poison
You'll be the unhappy one
Your lips taste of poison
You're gonna be left alone

When you told me every word you said
Came from voices talking in your head
Baby, I just think you're out for what you can get
Your bad mouth has killed off everything we had

Wash it out, wash it out, wash it out

'Cause everything is poison
You'll be the unhappy one
Your lips taste of poison
You'll be in the corner crying

The Stage

2006-11-14T10:41:00.000-06:00

Alas, a post!

Oh, dear blog, how long has it been since I've seen your boxular interface, smiling at me, pressing me to use you like the typing tool that you are...It's been too long.

So if anyone is still out there, wondering if I'd ever awake from my bloggie coma, then I wave very frantically and urge you to come over here, where I will tell you about all the many exciting things that happened while I was in a very deep sleep.

Although please bear with me, for I have but fifteen minutes, because I work soon. Because someone got fired and I've been working full-time hours.

Suddenly I have stage fright. I stare out at my faithful audience and my eyes widen in terror - what do I say? What should I do? Should I dance, or perhaps make up some bullshit? [Banana hammock!]

Allysia lets out an aggravated battle cry, and exits stage left. Exasperated, she grabs her hair with hands that want to punch something and does some quick thinking. How much do they know? How much SHOULD they know? And how do I say it when I know what they might or might not know or want to know?

She does a quick costume change [flamenco costume with a really fucken huge red hat] and re-appears on stage. The audience appears shocked that she came back - she's full of surprises. She begins to tap a slow, smooth rhythm with her shiny black shoe, and then cool jazz hues light the stage, controlled by a ghost of a light operator. Then she begins to sing...

The other day I quit smoking,
And this time I'm not joking.
There will be no more poisoned lungs for me.

I'm working all the time,
Where people commit crimes,
Like the lady who stuffed clothes down her pants.

She was caught,
So very distraught.
The man who regularly browses the toy isle saved the day.
She was caught,
And now she cannot
Rip off tags and find other ways to not pay...

I started playing Final 10
The experience is very zen
I like Wakka, his accent is greater than any I've heard.

But sigh and alas, it's time to go!
Places to be, both to and fro!
Mad adventures in the mild blowing snow!
Oh, wow!
[All this enthusiasm is no more than a show.]

Allysia

The Last Smoke of my Life

2006-09-24T11:48:00.000-06:00

The Last Smoke Of My Life
Autumn equinox, september 22, 11:23pm, 2006

The first puff.

the whole day, I kept thinking about what the hell I could possibly say to honor the occasion. Cigarettes are like an asshole boyfriend that you've been with - feels so good, but is so, so bad for you.

I also thought about not writing at all - writing and smoking is multitasking, and I won't be able to appreciate this to it's fullest.

This hardly feels real - it really is like breaking up with someone, when that someone is so completely integrated into your life and you can't imagine life without them.

This is the last time. The moment is rudely interrupted by my mom in the yard, telling the dog to get busy. How typical, a pivotal moment is interrupted.

Birds talk cranky and lonely. I really feel it. I really do.

I can't stop thnkinhg, what if I can't do it, what if I can't let it go. But I must strip myself of these detriments. I must get on with building myself a life that I feel good living, I must discard every hinderance and this is difficult when the hinderance is such a part of you.

The days in the backyard when the world was beautiful. Am I crazy to be putting this behind me? Is this really what I need? How could I let go of the best view I've ever known? How am I to do this?

I will, I will, I will.

And taste the last remnants of the old way, to shed a tear and let it go, let it burn out, let it go. Let it go.

This is the last time..............

2006-08-06T21:42:00.001-06:00

Take the quiz:
Which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle are You?

Leonardo
You're mature and get the job done. You are a natural born leader, and normally want to be the better of the group. You take your job seriously. You must! It may NOT be a game. When you select a sport, or something you want to do, you train continueously, constantly trying to perfect it. You're always prepared for a challenge, and are normally found one step ahead of your enemies. Loving family more than life itself, you are a good friend, and can be depended on at all times.

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I Am

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What does your birth month reveal about you?

October
Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to takes things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn'tpretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves children.

Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!

shit happens

2006-08-05T10:59:00.000-06:00

Greetings from Calgary,

Right now, everyone in the kitchen is discussing the vast vocabulary of the youth of the family. Namely, me and Taylor. Some 80's music plays softly in the background, setting up the stage for a jolly groove of a time. Jason and Robert are out golfing on this morning, and right now it's just me, my parents, and two of my aunties, Kato and Anj.

I kind of like that it takes forever to get around this city. I kind of like the hour-long drives, it feels like a road trip, plus, you can really collect yourself in the morning, there's ample opportunity to do so.

This morning, I had a dream that I was sitting in a classroom with some people, my mom being one of them. A David Suzuki video was playing, and I fell asleep watching it...and my vision went all fuzzy like a TV screen.

Right now, we're planning lunch, and discussing the quality of hygiene in fast food joints. My auntie Kato is of the opinion that Dairy Queen is the worst.

My dad's falling asleep on the couch and I'm very envious. Today there's a football game Kato and I refuse to go to. The rivalry in this family is entertaining. Anj, a true Calgary fan, made everyone very welcome by decorating the house with red...red flowers, red placemats, red ice cubes, red bed sheets...

"I Shot the Sheriff" is playing right now.

Just a lovely, lazy saturday. Thank god, i'm gonna have to be very rested for the work next week.

I forgot to deposit my cheque though, so I'm really fucken broke.

ally

2006-08-04T16:11:00.000-06:00

i bid you all adieu, as i head off to the land of calgary and beyond, where i will enjoy such things like glass clipping and white water rafting..there might even be a psychic in there. and my heart will bleed for msn as i try pass the long nights in the wilderness alone...*SOB*

i'll bring the camera/videocamera though. i'll be sure to document my adventure.

la ti da.

allysia

2006-08-02T02:04:00.000-06:00

i thought i had something to say, but i guess i don't

some days your insides just don't want a fucken audience.

always getting so caught up in these disappointed dreams.

well what the fuck am i supposed to do

ftw

2006-07-24T00:19:00.000-06:00

Hey, I remember when Dylan and Kelley and Mike used to post.

I really need to do something. I'm completely fucking miserable, and my body is falling apart, and I'm not really doing anything to better that. I just perpetuate it...holding on to useless baggage to save me from my own guilt, carrying around this image of myself that people expect, because god knows everything would be blown to smithereens if I'm constantly changing. My head is just this tangled mess, and sometimes there's so much pressure that I feel like I could die, but I'm terrified to die, so I just truck on through this hell. And life shouldn't feel like hell, life should feel like this fucking amazing journey and I should be thanking whatever the fuck you thank for every moment I'm breathing. I shouldn't be feeling like this. Twisted and crippled by this fucking anxiety, this fucking pressure, this fucking heart attack in waiting.

I'm nineteen bloody years old. It should NOT have gotten this bad.

Humans, we have this thing called free will. Free will means choices. And sometimes we make really bad choices, and then have to live with the consequences, and, hopefully, learn the lesson, whatever the fuck it may be.

We also have this interesting thing called the imagination. The right brain, the soul, whatever the fuck you want to label it, this is the reason we have choices. Look at the animals, things are a certain way for the animals and that's that. I'm hungry...so I'll eat. I'm horny...so I'll fuck. I'm old...so I'll die. I think it's cool how elephants honor their dead. Or at least get all interested by their own kind's bones. See, I'm making these bold truisms, and then I trail off when I second-guess my self, and when all these holes in the idea are evident.

I think I was trying to make a point....maybe something about the perils of pairing imagination and free will. Sometimes we make decisions based on completely glamourized situations, situations that really have no basis in reality, but the elaborate fantasy you create around it makes you believe it's real, because you want to believe. And then it's just another disappointed dream, and you suffer the consequences of your choice. It's like being on x for a while, and then stopping, and the world is as it was before, but it's just this huge loss because it seemed so beautiful.

I feel like any music I write will be crap, but fuck it, I'll go with it anyway. I feel like people wouldn't like me, but that just doesn't even fucking matter, or at least it shouldn't. And I'm happy with myself, I like what I am and how I look and all that shit, I mean, the anxiety is a definite issue but it's workable, so why is there so much fucking doubt, FUCK doubt. I don't know what I want, or what I want to say or how to say it, but I'm gonna keep fucken trying until maybe I get it right, instead of existing in this inertia because there's way too many fucking choices. Because I want it to be perfect. FUCK perfect, that's really boring. And to hold yourself back because you don't want to see anyone hurt. FUCK THAT especially. You get involved with people, you're gonna hurt people. It's a fucking fact of life and I can't pretend it isn't real.

But on top of all that, FUCK DATING. it's all just total bullshit.

ally

temporal illusions

2006-07-17T01:49:00.000-06:00

no one is blogging anymore, what's up with that.

apogee

heat rises

the energy's growing but i'm getting a handle on it. first successfully evaded looming death jitters.

you just fall into this weird perspective...suddenly, and smooth like a warm wave....it takes you deeper, to your mortality, and the world's on fire, but not in a glowing illusional way, where the lights are deeper and you're in love; it's hellfire and it's burning beneath everything, it's inside of everything. you fall into this perspective and the world is doomed, and however good you may be, you'll be dead by sunrise, because you're not big enough to stop these red tides.

you're not safe inside of yourself. you ARE the enemy. if you could close your eyes...lose yourself for one second....but NO! you'll lose your soul and it'll take control of you. sink it's teeth into your life and drain it out of you. this is the darkness that extinguishes the stars. it is a vacuum and swallows the light. to become one, not two. one, not two.......

the rule of opposites

clouds vs. vaccums

yin/yang

i saw the end, i saw it, i FUCKING SAW it. and then i erased it from myself; these things must be earned. freebies aren't real. soul-currency.

this is all in vain, all of it. feel the heat rising. crawls up like water dripping backwards, circling you, and this invisible cage has got you beat. inertia makes me gray.

temporal illusions.....this is the way i live.

Devolution

2006-07-11T00:51:00.000-06:00

The thoughts get deeper, and they're pulling me in. I'm creating a reality that I'm scared to become. This is what I'm running from.

I don't understand. With every block I insert into my adult perspective, there's this fear, this fear that maybe I'm not building myself a life, I'm just building my ego. That everything I do is geared toward personal gain and the flattering feelings of being special, instead of these higher purposes that I'd love to believe in. Just give me something to believe in. Well how could I not know? You'd figure that you could know yourself well enough to know your true, real motifs for the things you do. And I know the course of action - make the choice, pick one and run with it. But all this doubt makes it difficult. I understand Hamlet and I think I have the same fatal flaw as him.

See, it goes like this - I say to myself, fuck the ego question, I really am a good person who really, sincerely wants to help all of humanity. That's all well and good. And this is the perspective that pulls me in. So say I stop resisting. It could end one of two ways. One, I'm right and that's lovely. Two, I'm out of my fucking mind, and by entering in this perspective fully, I will be feeding my delusions to the point where I'll just be a crazy person, so far removed from real reality that there's no way back.

It's things like this that really make decision-making a terribly arduous process, it really hinders good ol' impulsiveness. To think things out ten steps in advance, and see just one potentially terrible outcome, and to do nothing out of fear. So I guess the real lesson here is to overcome this severe cowardice.

I really do envy people who don't consider the options and dive in head-first. I really wish I could be like that.

To become a risk-taker. To want the good outcome enough that I'll risk the bad outcome.

I think I'm getting to understand Jesus better, in the way that growing lets you understand everyone better. I think everyone has the potential for Jesushood - 99%. I think it's beautiful that everyone's level is different, so that it's a bloody challenge as you're being pulled down, and being pulled up. Can one devolve? Physically and mentally, yes - but spiritually? I've never been firm on that one. I think it's more interesting if you can spiritually deteriorate, but then again, if you spend all this time building it up, the notion of losing it is terrifying.

The reality I've been creating is going to be very strange if I choose to wear it, but very classic. My mind creates epics. Good vs. Evil to the extreme in my daily life. But the twist of my story here is that it won't be war, and all this metaphorical killing and bloodshed. Instead of fighting evil, we will redeem it. Where the demons rise above hell. Where Satan attains Nirvana. Where we become one, and not two. When there's no divide. This is my heaven.

And this is the journey.

2006-06-27T15:02:00.000-06:00

The world is a place of fanciful jokers
Everyone's dancing in and out of time
Weaving through the moments and
Seaming them together
For sense is a valuable toy.

If I could erase this place like a piece of paper
Crumple it up and let the wind carry it away
I dream of the days where everything seemed better
A nice dirty world for bottom-feeding hopefuls.

2006-06-22T20:45:00.000-06:00

i am the fishing line

shizzle

2006-06-13T13:43:00.000-06:00

So what do I say. I did this and this and this today, nothing's gone wrong, everything is right, everything is just peaches. cotton candy scenery. my life is easy, live, work, play. my family loves me and i've got good friends. great friends. might even try to get into school. nothing could be wrong, it would be wrong to feel as though anything's wrong. i'm writing music. it's what i do.

but you don't belong here
you don't belong here
you belong in the past

i'm still feeding those feelings
feeding those feelings
trying to make you last

can't stop shaking i'm
doing the wrong thing
i am turning back

i don't want to die like this i
want the sunlight back

so i guess some things never change. i guess i never learn. guess i'm not very strong. how is this supposed to be my last time here, i can't even give you up, and honestly, life seems a more intense addiction.

pathetic.

and everything's empty like me empty like me empty like me

still wrestling the demons of doubt, just like always, do you understand why i barely write anymore? it's just the same shit, circling round and round and i am it's captivee. how boring.

work

2006-05-19T18:44:00.000-06:00

for your information, there's a good reason I haven't posted in a while, and that reason is a complete lack of anything to say.

i've been up, i've been around, i've been busy, i've been. Doug and I have been writing music, it's been very motivational.

The changeable springtime of my heart. Haw. Mike and I are getting along again. how nice to drop useless baggage.

Between work and dating and friends, i barely have any time for myself. What a shame, I like being by myself. Or at least to the greater quanity than now.

What to say that I haven't already said before.

I guess certain themes and learnings in your life are like the choruses to songs, with the whole repetitious aspect.

I realized that assholes always get the best, and the good people always get the shit end of the stick. See, at work, i'll be seating someone, and some jerk will be like, 'can i sit by the WINDOW? it's a dirty fucken mess and it'll slow you down, and there's only one of me so it's a massive waste of a booth, but can i?' and by 'can i' they mean 'i'm going to, or there'll be hell to pay.' so i'm forced to oblige, and then some kindly poor sap will get a crappy spot, like a table in the middle, and you know they know it's a crappy spot and there's this whole circuit of guilt and disappointment, but since they're a nice, understanding person, they'll deal with it, without bitching or asking me to move.

The moral of the story is: be an ass, inconvenience people and only think about yourself.

SERIOUSLY! one of these days i'm gonna snap when someone asks for a dirty window seat. WOW, THE BEAUTIFUL VIEW OF THE PARKING LOT! i'm sorry but that pisses me right off. These people don't seem to care that there's a huge lineup at the door that i have to deal with. They'll point to the dirty booth and demand it. it's like FUCK! the purpose of my job is to SEAT PEOPLE ACCORDINGLY, so the waitresses don't get slammed. And if everyone's just gonna point and say, 'i don't want this table, i want that one', my job is meaningless and the customers might as well CLEAR OFF THE DAMN TABLE THEMSELVES. FUCK!

there's been a situation in which 2 booths were left - one for 2 people, one for 4 people. so i'm taking two people to the two-seater, which is logical, you know? but of course they want the big table, and then the people in line, all three of them, are screwed and have to wait.

WHY CAN'T PEOPLE THINK BEYOND THEIR OWN WANTS AND NEEDS?! are we THAT unevolved as a species, still so ego-centric? Man, I've TRIED explaining to people why they shouldn't go to the dirty window table. "well, you see, the people in line will have to wait longer, and the waitress will be unhappy because she just got three tables in a row, and won't be able to serve you very quickly." and they look at you blankly like big dumb apes, like, 'oh, well that doesn't effect ME at all,' and i'm like, GODDAMN!!

man, i've sunk to a new low, bitching about work at my blog. fuck, who am i kidding, everyone LOVES to bitch about work!

circus melancholy

2006-05-10T21:32:00.000-06:00

circus melancholy

would you say the end betrays the big idea to live
another day another way to wander round these twists
spiral circles around the circus you don't know how to forgive

fell out of my shoes just to know
fell out of my truth let it go
fell out of my shoes just to know
fell out of my truth let it

storm clouds give me up to a dry mirror land
make the jump travelling barefoot on desert sands
i wouldn't have gone if i'd have seen another way
looking back at every could be doesn't make this okay

fell out of my shoes just to know
fell out of my truth let it go
fell out of my shoes just to know
fell out of my truth let it grow

enlightenment.

2006-05-07T21:00:00.000-06:00

enlightenment

I have drawn a fairly pleasant conclusion about the world. Here goes.

A hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, was life better than now, or worse; has existence always been laden with conflict, war and tragedy? Yeah, bad shit has always been around. I barely need to dignify that with an explanation.

The main difference between then and now, is the TV, media, mass production, the internet, all that really new shit that's been brought into the world. Life must be completely fucking different now, it's just this very weird thing that's nothing like even fifty years ago. That's a tiny amount of time for such a big change! But the things happening haven't changed. Hate and shit like that persisted before the media, and though the media arguably breeds it, it didn't create it.

See, what's happening now with this crazy worldwide connection thing we've got going now, is that everything that once lived in the shadows is being dragged out. People see all this bad shit on the news, and it's like, "oh my god, what a terrible world!" But things haven't really changed, and now every person with a tv or computer is aware of all these problems. (maybe the white middle class is the main viewer of tv, but these are the people with the ability to actually help fix the world, as opposed to someone who can barely feed themself.) So the whole AIDS thing in Africa, had it not been for the media, people wouldn't know about it, and so no one would be trying to fix it.

Anyway, this is all a really roundabout way of saying that i think whatever 'golden age' or 'enlightenment' that all these prophet people have been talking about for thousands of years, well i think this is the dawning of it. i think all of us are living at a really fucking cool time, a time where we'll get to see a bunch of shit go down. i'm really glad i'm alive, right here at this moment, i'm really fucken grateful.

chili peppers

2006-05-05T14:27:00.000-06:00

Chili Peppers - September 19, 2006, Saskatoon (Credit Union Centre)

I imagine tickets go on sale the thirteenth, as presales begin the ninth.

So who's coming? I figure we should get a big fucken posse. Any Melvillites up for it? *cough* Dylan... *cough* I don't know if Wonderbread likes the Chilies. I can assume that Kelley will go, along with Steve, and Steve might have a giant army of friends coming as well. Or just Joel. Claire and Paul will most definitely go...I think. Mike, you wanna come? Richard will be coming...so it's really up to you. I wouldn't mind. And quite possibly I can convince Carly to come, but we'll see about that.

So should we all just get floor tickets or what? I'm down with the floor, as long as I'm a ways away from a moshpit, seeing as I'm a massive wuss :P

gibbin

2006-05-03T14:34:00.000-06:00

Music sort of puts a spin on your day, coloring it, as it lingers in your head, playing over and over again.

I find that in situations where I'm stoned, if I go play on the piano, it makes me feel tragic. Really, I have a tendency to play tragic tunes, and then I get all sad about things, occasionally to the point of crazy revelations and feelings that my death is nigh.

So it's a fucking bunk day outside, gray and cold, and I am to play baseball tonight on a hardcore team that will likely be annoyed with my ultimate lack of skill. Sure, I've played baseball for many a year, but it's been a while, and they are all very pro.

On the plus side, I've been working muscles that I forgot existed.

Jen's in town, and we're gonna chill tonight. Carly and I are also gonna chill, which is awesome because Carly is my ultimate friend. Also, she's my oldest friend. No - she's younger than me, but I've known her since I was eight. And we used to hang out every day and we were just these powerhouses of creativity back then. We would act out plays we wrote, invent games, all kinds of shit. Truly, we are a libra team.

Actually, I'd be hard-pressed to find someone I get along better with. I guess my friends 'get' me and all, but with Carly, it's like we really fucken know. We sort of have a very similar viewpoint or something. Similar feelings, experiences, ways of looking at things. Like my cosmic twin, in which she's the popular one, and I'm the weird one.

Never lose your good friends.

What else can I discuss? Well social situations are failing me and I keep getting down. Sometimes I can't stand my head, but when I try to sleep it off and away, I just sort of fall into infinity when my eyes close. It's hard to explain - everything is just so vast one moment, and tiny the next, like the universe is a little box. Or it will feel like I'm speeding through space, forward and backward. And it all morphs into each other; vast, small, fast, slow, all-encompassing, into nothing. And it's kinda frightening to close your eyes and be in that.

My head is really bothering me. It just loops over the same goddamn problems and mysteries, because when I try to get to the bottom of things, I realize that it's bottomless and it's just this big infinite loop. Like we live inside an atom, and so on.

I like the idea of a metaverse...That some other universe gave birth to ours, explaining how all those crazy-ass fine-tuned details of our existence were actually possible. How unlikely that it's all random.

God is the Akashic field? Is there something beyond infinity, like, say, Nirvana, or is that just a pleasant thought?

Is it even possible to break out of the loop?

Then what's the point, really, what's the point? If life is some sort of game where you advance through the levels, levels that increase in difficulty the better you do, well if you beat the game, and it's all infinite, then don't you just start all over again, and again, and again? So that would mean that the point isn't to beat it, it's to live it. You know those great RPG games, where it's like a big crazy world, with villages and random people, and you have these missions, like, say, saving the world, but instead of just cutting to the chase, you stop to chill in the towns, and chat up the townsfolk, enjoy your fucken stay.

Just the mere fact that I'm here, right now, is the greatest fucking mystery of all. And I guess it kind of bugs me that I'll never solve it. 99%.

Life is what you make it? Then maybe I've crafted mine into a game, a true-blue RPG. And everyone else has crafted there life into something else. And people with similar life-crafts can really get along, can really almost share a view. Or maybe ....... maybe there's only one meaning, not a zillion, but that's just wishful thinking, that would be far too easy.

Nothing's true but the point of view?

Well the way I see it, everyone has a different view, which is very obvious. Some are high, some are low. Doesn't make one better than the other, it just makes it different. And you know how they say that an opinion can't be right or wrong? well that must be true, but an opinion can be better or worse. Like, a good opinion would be one that encompasses many viewpoints. So maybe the best opinion would be one that encompasses every single view. But that would be 'god'.

I know this is a really long post but I have to unload my head a bit, solidify.

I'm really getting annoyed...like every time I step outside, the feelings and thoughts are so damn familiar, it's like i keep repeating myself. Maybe I'm getting sick of my view, or maybe I'm stuck in a loop. And it really gets hard to not know anything. Because the things that really matter to me, that really fuck me up, are things that I'll never have an answer for. So the solution there is easy - let it go. Stop looking. ......but I don't want to......

So to explore different levels and views. To talk with someone and meet them there. Like when you're stoned, and you can really understand people. Every gesture, every word, you completely know where it's all coming from. It's just so natural when you're high.

So maybe instead of going to someone's level, or them coming to yours, it's best to meet them in the middle, and then you're both exposed to something new. Someplace you might never have gone, had you not met them. Sometimes that place can be so fucken awesome, maybe it's love.

Love?

Really, love?

Where the fuck does love come from?

Here's where I get all esoteric, speaking of souls and shit like that. How else can love be explained, if you don't have a soul concept?

What the fuck, feelings?

Why do I feel?

Hey, hey, that Pink Floyd lyric, "we learned to talk". Could you have thoughts without language? You'd just have images. Wait...I think ... here comes a new idea, I think....

journey

2006-05-03T01:41:00.000-06:00

This is the color
This is the wave and the ground
This is the color
This is the weight of the sound

Pushing through the feelings,
The clouds in my eyes
Looking for a blue sky
Could never see clearly
Never nearly enough
I like it when I can't make out
The titles of the shapes
And it becomes what my mind creates
Guess I was never really real
Pushing through the fog

All my life I've been
Looking for the way out
Think I've found it but I
Don't want out
I want the journey
And I am so close
If it's a door in my eyes
And I'm a clever disguise
I want the journey
Going back through the levels
For the scenery you missed
Everything you dismissed
Beating the game isn't so important anymore

I want more
It's what I came for

building home

2006-04-27T21:50:00.000-06:00

2006-04-20T16:28:00.000-06:00

spring and me

2006-04-17T10:27:00.000-06:00

Ahh, spring. That magical time when I'm hot and cold, meek and bold, bright and dull, empty and full. A blue sky one hour, rain clouds the next. Fucken waves. It's these transition seasons, spring and fall, which are the quickest-moving and moodiest of all. Summer and winter are when the world tricks us into thinking, hey, something is stable! Well they are. Summer is stably pleasant, and winter is stably depressing. Spring and fall are all over the fucken place.

Mostly, "I don't know what to do with myself". I mean, I've been keeping really busy. But what about the ideas? A glimpse of a song here, a scratch of a character there...where's the idea that makes me say "fuck yeah, I have a new purpose in life!"? Or do you just stop getting those after you hit a certain age?

So to compensate, I've been going through my big box of past shit, organizing it, and gagging at some of it. Some of it is so goddamn cocky, or so goddamn dramatic, that I'm embarassed it's mine.

Sometimes I'm so in the moment, I'm so fucking here. It's so powerful that I don't know how to handle it. You know those philosophers, the ones that ask, "why am I here? What is the meaning of life?" These aren't just questions pondered quietly over a cup of tea. These are big questions, all-consuming, so intensely felt that it becomes their life, and nothing else matters.

Scatterbrained. I can't pinpoint an idea, it just drifts into the next.

things i like about life

2006-04-06T21:31:00.000-06:00

*Steam rising out of a fresh cup of coffee
*The clear winter sky, unpolluted by city glow
*Kittens!
*Autumn sunrises
*Chilling with my family on holidays
*The deep shadows of late afternoon
*Sunny blue skies and puddles at my feet on a melting spring day
*The epiphany
*The clean but musty sound of an old piano
*Lazy days in Melville (and the general enthusiasm of the evenings)
*Munching out on freshly-picked peas
*Sex
*The feeling of fulfillment when I do something nice for someone
*The colors we brought here
*Good wine
*Casual parties with the people I care about
*The taste of pot in the summertime
*Video games like Top Gear and Final Fantasy
*Dreams, dreams, the intrigue of dreams
*Going to bed after a long, hard day, complete with intensely mushy pillows, two comforters, and two afghans. ....wait a minute. Is the spelling right on that one? I don't mean to imply that I like going to bed with two....oh never mind.
*My good granny's cooking, it's all good (except when she accidentally puts bleach in the food.........)
*The people, all the people, good and bad and ugly, it's everyone, I even like the rotten ones, for what kind of tale would this be if there wasn't any conflict? If there wasn't something to fight for?

Life is a journey, it's the best fucking pilgrimage ever, and why rush through it, why speed straight toward the destination as if that's the important part, because what then? What when you reach your destination, what do you do, where do you go? You stand around and look like a moron. It's the journey, it's all about the journey.

i'm out.

allysia

game music

2006-03-28T20:56:00.000-06:00

A powerful experience last night; agonizing at times, and time did drag, but seeing as I'm still alive, I can look at it and go, "okay, what the fuck did that mean?"

I walked down the stairs into the dark basement and all was basically well. About to crawl into bed, but I had this idea in my head to sit down at the piano instead. I had a line, a lyric, a tune.

Can I go to the place I always wanted to be

And as I played the simple melody, I felt as though this was the end. This was the last thing I would write, and they would find it, they would see it as a tragic mystery. My head started swirling and the shaking began. I couldn't play the piano any longer; things had become too intense. So I decided, maybe I should get the fuck to sleep.

Walked in my room, set the alarm clock; daily habit was easy and mindless. The room looked different and so did I. I saw myself in different ways, from the eyes of those I love, I saw how fucked-up it looked, thinking mad thoughts while the ending theme played inside my head. Turned out the light.

At first I simply tried to breathe, and warm up, for I was trembling rather badly. But I could not calm down as I watched myself glitching in the system. I was like a fuzzy television channel - cutting in and out, in great danger of fading away entirely. But I fought it - Jacob wrestled the angel, the angel was overcome. What was I on about? Think of Buffy. Think of a mindless episode of some lame show. Think of the way I feel when I'm with Richard. Think of my life, my life, remember that I work tomorrow. Think of all the people I love.

I had to get out of bed, away from the red static. I had to come back and reconnect myself because I didn't want it to be over. Please, God, not now. Let me stay in the game.

I went upstairs to the computer for some semblance of familiarity. Fiddled at the keys, trying to get my point across but my hands were so shaky and I felt suspicious being there, hitting the backspace button every second letter. Logoff.

Beginning to feel the first real claws of panic, I turned on the television downstairs so I could maybe watch some simple people live funny lives. What appeared on the screen, however, was a young man being dragged across the floor of a classroom, yelling, "Please no! I don't want to leave! I want to stay here!" And other such things. As he gripped the leg of a dest to try to save himself from the perils of a post-graduate world, I kept thinking about the uncanny parallels to my own life at that very moment.

Unnerved even further, I walked into the bathroom - another scenery change, for I could not be still. Looking into the mirror, but barely aware of anything except these strange feelings, that's when I heard the game music. It was the tune I had played before, but altered, sounding like something you would hear from a super nintendo game. What I felt, or saw, or knew, is difficult to explain; it went something like this:

All my life was a game. I had taken wrong turns and wrong paths and it was game over for me. I would play again; be born the same and given another chance to do something better, like when you die on a video game, you come back to life, but you have to do things over. It was sad, for this existence would carry on without me and I would have to leave everything behind. Everything I had ever loved and learned, built and burned, it would all be gone. I was fading away. I was glitching and disconnecting and going back to where I came from, the origin of the game, I was, I was going home.

I didn't want to know. it seemed a great truth; it seemed I should not know such things. If I could explain to you the way it all felt as I listened to that melody in my head, and realized that it was game over, the fear but sense of -- sense of what? It wasn't peace. Relief?

No, no, no. It wasn't over yet! As a cat, I deserve all nine lives and I've only gone through about three or four. I had to believe I could keep playing, to make things right. I wasn't finished. I loved all of this too much.

Had a shower and it brought me to a better place. I thought about exits - maybe a shower was my final bit of joy before game over. No. Got to believe. The shaking fits, I had to control them before they took over me completely. My chest was so tight; I had to leave the shower for a lack of decent oxygen.

Back in bed, I managed to calm myself somehow. I imagined why so many people cling to God - things get hard, so terrible, to the point where you think you're dying and it's the only thing left, the last chance to be saved. God can handle a bunch of scared humans jumping on it's cosmic back.

And I'm still here. It was hell to endure, and I'm just wondering what I can learn from this. What is wrong with my view? Red static and glitching out? What is this I'm seeing? Sometimes I wish I could see the world the way normal people do, or happy people. Sometimes I really want that mind-frame. Sometimes it's so hard to play this game.

I must be out of my mind.

glitch

2006-03-28T02:45:00.000-06:00

Shivering and glitching again.

Shapes that transform into red static, like a fuzzy tv. I heard the game music and it frightened me. It makes me think, what if my game is over?

I don't want to think about that. I just want to feel like myself again. But I'm too afraid to sleep, so I'm here, watching the screen blur, shaky fingers, when will the feeling end.

An incredible glimpse I got tonight. Something I shouldn't have seen? Maybe it'd be best to stay awake tonight. Though the glitches in my program are hard to bear.

2006-03-23T14:53:00.000-06:00

I'm entering a new phase in my life; times are changing.

This world is really weird and a lot of shit will forever puzzle my mind. Time is one of the big ones. 4D, timespace, gravity glue, god. Thoughtforms, multidimensional reality, the six o'clock news which puts negativity into the cosmic air because millions of people are watching it. TV, shared experiences, electronic telepathy. Building, building, always building toward...something...something like home.

Last night we watched a movie called "Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance", a dark Korean movie about....a kidnapping gone awry, maybe. It's a good movie if you can deal with the sight of ankles being slashed open underwater, and black market kidney sales, and other such gruesome things. Claire felt sick after seeing it, but truly enjoyed the excellent cinematography and whatnot. Paul was mostly offended and disgusted, saying, "whoever made that movie must have had a fucked-up childhood." Richard made jokes to me to ease the tension, and I exited my body, and therefore detached myself from caring about all the pain in the movie.

The computer did something weird 10 minutes ago, it flashed weirdly and then shut itself down, which sucked because I was in the middle of blogging. So here I go again on my own.

He's comin over soon, which is good, but later I have to go clean the apartment, which is bad.

My funds will likely allow me a trip to melville next week, as long as my schedule allows it. Then I can pay Steve back, finally. Just give him $100 and be done with it.

hello

2006-03-22T10:54:00.001-06:00

carve it in the sand.

grand view, watch the coastline
or feel the sand beneath your toes

i had a dream i got stoned last night.
without the slightest drag of paranoia.
i could have had more, i wanted more.
but it was nicole's.

psychosis

2006-03-17T04:37:00.000-06:00

I think I'm psychotic.

No, really, psychosis is like the fever of mental illnesses, which would be funny because back in high school, I used to get these random fevers, but no sickness accompanying them. I was reading the symptoms and what it is, and what it does to you, and it makes sense. Apparently, in someone prone to psychosis or whatever, weed can bring that out hardcore, which makes complete sense, I mean, look at the way I've been reacting to it - strong paranoia and whatnot. Detachment from reality, thought and perception are severely impaired, delusional beliefs, personality changes, disorderly thinking.....

Of course, it's not like psychopathy, which is violent and whatnot. When you say the word 'psychotic', people automatically think that you're raving mad and that you see little gnomes and hear evil voices telling you to kill them, kill them all.

In other news:

"To divorce Babylon is like the untangling of a knotted ball of thread. Such is untangled methodically and purposefully by those ever seeking to liberate themselves from its many ensnarements. Great must be the wedge created between purity and defilement. Double is the Veil which hides the Holy of Holies, and great must be the veils created by those seeking to avoid impurity before ever their Lord doth invest in them His Holy Essence, for who is he but a fool who will pour good wine into a cup without a bottom. Lay out and name each thread that doth bind thee one by one, and cut them clean and sure, lest by only one small but extremely fine thread ye be forever bound to that which you would flee from. "

I'm on an Essene binge right now.

According to gematria, my name equals 1 degree Libra, which is like the first of all numbers, and I feel special because there's only a 1 in 360 chance of that happening. Also, it means that I can equal every other number.

The Essenes kick lots of ass. It ain't a religion, it's more of an...order. Or a school or something. Jesus was an Essene...or at least he went to their little place, a magical place with sacred scrolls and such. Jesus's wife also wrote a 'bible' but the catholic church got all pissy, and were all, "we must burn these writings! we disagree with what Jesus himself said!" But those tricky Essenes managed to preserve them, which is cool. Not that I've read 'em. Some, but...it's lengthy and long-winded, like the bible. Except not with like 10 pages of people's names....Saul was the father of Joe, and Joe was the father of Schmoe, and etc. No good.

So it's almost 5am and I should sleep. Or have a smoke and a burger. Wow, I feel like Randy, minus the gut. It's a work in progress.

Shall I rave about Richard, who is just too awesome to be true? Or shall I just keep it all to myself and brag to a neutral party later? It must be pronounced frenchly, though, for he is french, or at least his dad is, and he speaks it fluently, which is cool because I'm learning stuff, and not to mention, it's sexy. I'd like to say more; however, I think that would be wrong.

So I've written several dinky songs lately, which is nice. They're very simple, but it's better than nothing.

My voice is getting stronger and more controlled. It's hard to control your voice when it's .. loud. The Next High Tide is altered, and much more appropriate. Certain lyrics are subject to change, but...that's because it's not perfect. So maybe I should just chill out and leave it alone, and just work on what IS there, instead of constantly seeking ways to improve it. But then....it could be better.......

I still have a smoke left so I have to gib some more. Moved out of the apartment. Mike's living with my friend Kelley. I'm not going to delve deeper into that because I'd be writing for an hour and there would be offended people.

So Satan is getting into everything, that's what I've noticed. Satan and God are loose terms. I can't claim to be a part of any religious group, I just believe there is good in the world, and there is evil. Satan and God are good terms for that. So yeah, I feel it underlying everything these days, like it's poison, or a virus, and if we're to take this thing down and have a happy ending of a world tale, we can't just believe in love, we have to fight for it, and push it, and give it all the power we can muster. Come on, team.

Maybe I'm crazy.

stories that end (but never really do)

2006-03-06T18:43:00.000-06:00

I want one more night,
One more chance to appreciate
How everything was right.
Since then things have broken down
I want to read the book again
And savor every word
Now that I know
And now that I can't
Do it all again.
I want to do it all again
Even though I know how it ends.

If I could have known
I would have shown you
Everything beautiful I saw.
And you would learn it like a law
And you would never leave it behind.
If I could have known
I would have sewn you to myself
And you would never be free.
Something worse for you and me.
So I'll believe it's meant to be
Because I can make it make sense
I'm rationalizing destiny
And I've really learned a lot
So I should be thanking you.
It's because of you that I've gotten here
So thank you for leaving me.
Thank you for hurting me.
Thank you for letting love go.

Maybe we had to go
So we could grow up
And into ourselves,
And one day when we've gotten so far
We'll circle back to each other
And live happily ever after,
Like going home to live with your mother when you're forty
Because she gave birth to you

fucked

2006-03-05T03:16:00.000-06:00

My life is so fucked, but I can't get into it here. Really, I don't know what the fuck to do. It's bad. It's really bad. This time I'm not just being overdramatic....and it's not me. I've got a lot of shit on my plate, sure, but it's not me I'm terrified about.

But I can't get into it.

Time for a smooth topic change.

There goes my hero, watch him as he goes....

I shouldn't feel bad about not feeling bad about meeting a new guy. It's my life. I hate the fact that my decisions can hurt others. But I can't just...not do these things because I feel guilty. Right?

Gotta go.

shit

2006-02-23T16:59:00.000-06:00

grand list of role playing game cliches

with that said, i feel like i don't have any friends, that i'm some poor loner kid, which probably explains why i found that site, and why i've been addicted to online quizzes. really, though, i barely hang out with anyone anymore, which is very sad, because i love hanging out with people. it's like no one gives a shit about poor ol' allysia anymore...*sniff sniff*

enough of the dramatics. i'll be moving out of here soon, and as to where i'm going, well, probably with the parents. siiiggghhh. but what choice do i have. mike and kelley are going to live together and i'm totally cut.

i'm going on a date on saturday, we'll see how that goes. we'll see if i'm still able to do the whole romance thing.

other than that, life's been pretty damned bunk. but i'm getting dramatic again. i just wish i could go on a vacation off the planet. that would be nice.

allycat

Delightful Sunday

2006-02-19T22:24:00.000-06:00

Beautiful snowy day. Little feather snowflakes drifting lazily, dancing in the air, relieved as I was that the bitter cold had lifted. Hazy pink sunset, seemed like the atmosphere was frosted glass.

Family warmth and wit. I am opening up a little bit.

[These passions, however strong, are so temporary. The flame ignites, and slowly cools down, until it's only smoldering embers - unless it's fed well.]

My good granny bought candles for my mom's cake, candles that were magic - somehow, if you lit one, the others would light by themselves, like a dominoes effect. However, since my mom's cake had quite a lot of candles on it, there was a quick, unexpected whoosh of flame, and everyone stepped back, caught wide-eyed in a moment of surprise, until the flame settled it's unease and dispersed itself kindly amongst the candles. After a brief moment of silence, after the many dramatic intakes of oxygen, we all deflated and began to laugh. The jokes started, and were followed by a deafening, off-key 'happy birthday', which is the tradition of our family.

My granny and auntie pat sang nicely,
My grandpa pretended to sing,
Connor was insecure about singing and did it worriedly,
Cara and Jenna sang sweetly off-key,
Craig managed to boldly carry the tune,
My dad and I sang as loud as we could, as awful as we could, and
My mom laughed, blushed deeply, and couldn't wait for it to be over.

Three candles withstood the mouthwind storm - ha ha! THREE boyfriends!

And my mom cut the cake, giving the pieces to those who correctly answered her trivia questions:

"Where do I want to go in August?"

"Cayman Islands!"

"Calgary!"

"England! France! Germany! Poland!"

After most of the cake had been dispersed, and my grandpa still lacked a piece, he said with a cat-grin, "I'm a little slow!"

My granny also didn't have a piece, but they were waiting for everyone else, kindly saving themselves for last.

The cake was another triumph for my good granny.

After stuffing our faces like we hadn't ate a big lunch two hours ago, the adults began a game of Kaiser, and the kids and I retired to the nintendo lab, intent on settling the score on an intense Smash Bros. battle. Connor was annihilating us as usual, never missing a moment to brag how his score was better than all of ours combined. Though I fought valiantly with Pikachu, I could not hold a cake-full of flaming candles to Connor's skill.

Later, I was tragically defeated by both my mom and dad at crib. (But I won the sudoku-puzzle race!)

I love the family. They light me up and I am full of enthusiasm and fun. The environment created by them is the most pleasant I've ever known, and I am lucky to have been born into their love.

Maybe I should try out, if for the sole reason of getting a free ticket to visit Jason in Toronto.

The Tangles of Questionry

2006-02-11T08:19:00.000-06:00

So last weekend, the friends and I had a delightful time beerin' it up at The Tap. Steve and Kelley chilled, being the cool people of the night, jovial and suave. Mike laughed a lot, and Claire's mind did not seem to drift from her art. Paul was full of love and joy, and I laughed and chatted and had a grand old time. We even had a table right by the smoking doors, so we didn't have to stumble across the restaurant to get there - AND the bathrooms were right near by. House seats, I say.

The next day, I barfed, and it was all, "whatever, just a hangover." Then I barfed again, and then again, and then it was evident that I had a stomach flu. So I couldn't go to work and my boss was all cranky and I flipped him the bird in my mind. And then I spent the rest of the day barfing, even when there was nothing to barf.

I've recovered by now, and am preparing for an eventful day full of cleaning and dishes, and of course, chillin with the family at THE KID'S BRAND NEW FARM! It sure took them long enough to move into it, what with the inserting a house into the land and all, but they're finally there. It should be an eventful night full of Smash Bros., DDR, and general hootenanny. AND.......Carly's coming! DUn dun DUUUN! I haven't seen that good ol' midget since around September.

(Note: The midget is a friend who I lived across the street from for years...we always hung out, and created games and ways to pass the time, such as the infamous Man Game, and the intense lego set-ups, and that balloon game, and Buckley and Bobby-Joe's Radio Show, and the bike adventures, and other such things. Also, she's not a midget, she's just really small.)

So hopefully that all goes well. I have a fear of being awkward around her, but that's horribly unlikely, as she's my cosmic twin and no two people could get along better. Like Kristen and Claire.

I have this crazy notion that when I get sick, since I was little, I am able to see the nature of time. No, really. I always knew I was about to get sick when I was young, because I'd close my eyes, and it's like....everything shrunk till it was tiny (including me), and in the next moment, everything would expand and I was big as the world. I saw shrinking and growing cubes and circles, weird geometric shapes that would twist and bend and breathe. Time isn't steady! And it isn't an illusion, it's quite real. Time isn't cyclical or linear. Time makes so much sense when it's mapped out on a calendar, and every day is the same duration, and the moon cycles every 28 days, and the earth cycles 'round the sun every year. It seems so solid. But really, it's really not...it grows and shrinks like when I'm sick, it pushes and pulls, it pulses...a day will move slow, a day will move fast, 10 years go by and you go, "where the hell has the time gone," 2 years crawl by and suddenly you're cruising...I'm sure this has a lot to do with perspective...a day will go by faster for the caffeinated person having one hell of an awesome day.

I don't really have a point, except maybe that time is this mysterious moving thing. (maybe it's somehow connected with gravity?) I think of it as another dimension, beyond us but manipulating us, overlapping this world. (Do all dimensions overlap? Like the ghost land, isn't it supposed to be a foot removed from this world?) Why am I trying to understand these places that are above and beyond what I could ever comprehend? Maybe that's where I'm going next? Maybe there's this place called home that I'm trying to find? Maybe humans are this crazy alien game? Maybe it's interplanetary and not interdimensional? The soul, god in the entire universe, as this weird energy in everything?

Maybe I lived as a human once, long ago, and then I died and went to the next place, a realm of entities working to the next level. Then I did something wrong, and I was kicked out and sent back here, and that would explain some of my more violent dreams, horrible entities that are incredibly pissed off at me for some reason.

And what is it with the levels anyway? We're always working up to higher levels. Even on the physical plane, people trying to be like gods. Hollywood, man. But the spiritual levels...I sense people are above me, and below me. Above and below. Something's on the tip of my tongue. So say we work our way to this next level, past humanity, what's past that? And then, what's past that? Is there a top, and a bottom? Why are we trying to get to the top, anyway? This feels like some sort of video game! Oh man, what if life is really like Mario World 4, where you have to beat this game with all the secrets and shit, and it gets really fucken hard, and then when you finally win, you start all over, and the world is the same but it looks different, like different colors and shit. What if it's really like that? What if I'm building up towards coming back HERE again, where there are slight variations, like maybe george bush is an asassin and kills the current lady president? Or something. Like that book, The Ground Beneath Her Feet.

What is it, what?!

Why do I care?!

It's not like I could know...

my life, the RPG

2006-02-02T00:55:00.000-06:00

Fuck sakes, I am so dramatic. Of COURSE every problem I encounter is huge-scale, the worst of the worst, like my life is a fucken RPG or something. Like this big evil dude living in some crazy technoworld is gonna take over the planet, and I, coming from a quaint little village where everyone exists in peace with nature, must stop this mad apocalypse.

Really though, my problems always feel so bloody dire. I wonder why. I wonder why everything always boils down to the eternal battle between good vs. evil. Hah. As if life is so black-and-white. As if.

So what have I been doing with myself lately? Well I had a really productive tuesday, I somehow managed to write a song that has been nothing but turmoil to me for the last long time. This song, I swear. It's like I couldn't get to the bottom of it. Every time I thought I had figured out the themes and feelings, what the song really said, two days later I would come up with a different idea and the first would seem incredibly shallow and stupid. And so on, etc.

I've come to the conclusion that this song is bottomless. And by digging into it, I had lost the truth of it.

Alas, it is a bit poppy. But this was also another realization - why do I write music in the first place? It's beyond venting and expressing myself. I want to connect with people. And who do I want to connect with? People in the pop world (and others, of course, how dare I exclude every other goddamn category), because these are the people who are destroying music, by buying britney spears and jennifer lopez (names unworthy of capitalization) and all this kind of shit. This is what the media wants to sell them, for they will get rich and live a wonderful life in a mansion on a beach shore with 500000 goddamn rooms and a personal maid for every fucken one of them, they want this pig-life, and so they have devised a good plan to attain this, the pop industry, where people like jessica simpson are no more than shiny pawns for their grand scheme. And the people eat it up. Why? The songs are pretty, glossy, and hit the soap-opera heart of most soft-brained kids (and adults).

I used to eat this shit up, until I was about 14 or 15, until I grew a brain and some taste. I bought britney's first album, I loved the backstreet boys, I bought those stupid little magazines with pin-ups of the day's cutest celebs, and I stuck them on my walls. And these are the people...the people that deserve better. It's like mcdonalds and all these junk companies targeting little kids, knowing full-well how impressionable they are, but alas, not giving a fuck, and then suddenly you've got this crazy obesity epidemic, where, what was the figure, 1/3 american kids will be obese. Yeah, it's like that.

There IS good pop out there. Wait - what is the point of music, anyway, why does it exist? This answer varies depending on the perspective, so I'll put in my two cents here. Music, to me, is an expression of feeling, like a painting. Feelings aren't explainable, they can't be reasoned...Ask me what it felt like when I took out the garbage on that beautiful spring evening, the sun barely in the sky, and I'd tell you that it hit me like a brick wall, like a crazy wave of melancholy. But that isn't enough. You ask, what does melancholy feel like? Melancholy feels like.......it's like......(and then I'd compare it to an experience, to try and make sense of it) ...like when I realized me and my love wouldn't last forever, it just couldn't be, but I was still with him and it was okay....like...happy-sad...what's happy? what's sad? Happy is spring puddles and blue skies and and love, and love. And this goes on. I could write a book on a feeling. And I wouldn't be able to say it right....and it's perspective. To someone else, 'happy' might bring up thoughts of campfires, or the smell of pine needles on a breezy day, or Buddha in a spaceship with kittens.

Anyway, what I'm saying here is that music delves into this inexplainable realm of feeling. This whole crazy soul thing. It can be a there-there pat on the back, an "I understand you, I know how you feel." Pop music is ALWAYS going on about love, so much that the meaning of the word has become skewed and near-meaningless, "I love you baby, ooo ooo I love you, won't you be mine forever and ever (I want to fuck your brains out)", "I love you so much but it cannot be (that man down the street is checking me out)", wait, I'm noticing a theme, the love expressed in pop music is lust, is infatuation, is temporary. Another theme I've noticed lately (I like turning on the radio occasionally, I like to know what's going on) is the whole, "man, check me out, I'm so hot and independant, look at me, I'm unique and I'm doing my own thing, aren't I so awesome." Which is, you know, good, it's good to know who you are and like it...but in this context it's a tad....hypocritical, because isn't the cool new trend to be "oh-so-free and independant"? So basically, millions of people are conforming to this trend, which is....well I feel I cannot explain it properly. You figure yourself out because you need to, not because it's cool....and when it's cool, you're not even doing it right...it's like the whole "love" in pop songs...it's not real love, it's ruining the good name of love.

Arg. This is why I cannot explain myself very well. My feelings get too tangled in this.

ANYWAY. Kids buy into this crap because....can they relate to it? Or is it simply the catchy rhythms and tunes? (Some of these songs get jammed in your head even after one listening)...if there was quality pop, pop that was sincere, not built on money and the false concept of beauty, pop that was truly built on REAL feelings...Not to say there isn't pop like this. U2 has gotta be my favorite band. Upon hearing them, I transformed as a person, it opened something up in me...I just connected with it, like really, truly connected, and then all of a sudden I started seeing this 'true' music everywhere, and I could see what I was living inside because I got out of it, this false soap opera way of things became so clear.

Isn't that the kind of writer I am? Pop is in my fucking blood. My parents were 80's kids, I loved that stuff as a young 'un, and though it's hard to admit, I still do. My dad was a lover of dance and techno, but then again, he was a DJ. Mainly he got out of it because the sad turn music took. He said that in the 80's, the music was fun, it was good pop, people danced and had a wonderful time, but by the late 90's it had turned crap, people danced to be skanky, the music meant nothing.

I started writing music in grade six or so. And it was stupid poppy shit, one of the titles I can remember is "more than a million you", lame, I know, I know. I had entire notebooks dedicated to this shit. I was writing song after song whenever the whim came, there must be 100 from that time. All crap, of course, except for one, which is quite magical, it's called "midnight song" and at that point I doubt I ever stayed up that late, it's interesting, the feelings I expressed in it were feelings I had never felt, but are strangely applicable at this point in my life. I've edited it, of course. But lots of the lyrics in it remain unchanged. That's another thing. I've noticed something weird in my writings. On many occasions, something I write doesn't apply at all at the time...maybe I think it does, but it doesn't...and then a year later, it will make perfect sense to me...

I keep straying from the point. In about grade 11, before him, when I was oh-so-tragic (just another angsty teenager), I wrote a lot of music again, still poppy, but a little more, well, real. Horribly whiny and depressed at points, but still real. Even nowadays, when I chill on my piano, it's got the pop feel. I've expanded my horizons but this pop sound is my sound. And the song I wrote on tuesday sort of showed me that. I've got to be true to myself. What U2 did for me, that's what I want to do for others (wistful thinking). Open them up. Expose them to a whole new way.

(Also, most of my songs tend to stray to the minor/sad side of things...happy songs don't come easy)

I'm really feeling good about this, I'm really feeling the passion, the dream is coming into focus again. I know what side I'm on and I know my enemy, and I know what I need to do, or die trying.

I've been going to my parent's house a lot, I'm doing some hard-core practicing. I need to give this my all. Especially with his music being the most beautiful I've ever heard. Slightly intimidating, it is. But this is the right music. To me. This music feels...it feels like..........it feels like home.

I have to try. I can't let this down. I know I can do this...

(or maybe I'm just stuck in a delusion.)

Ally

Follow the Leader

2006-01-28T20:27:00.000-06:00

One day I woke up realizing that I was travelling down the wrong path, and had to turn back immediately before it became too late.

Five minutes later, I consoled myself with the thought, no, no, you're going the right way, don't worry, when you reach your destination, all of this will have been worthwhile, don't worry...Then I remembered a quote that said something like, "it's the journey, not the destination, that matters", and my mind was uneasy again. Shouldn't the right way feel a little more, well, right? To this, my internal thought bubbles changed their tune, telling me, well there is no one right way, nothing's set in stone, relax, don't worry, etc.

In other words, there's no such thing as fate and destiny?

Exactly. Just keep doing what you're doing, and everything will be all right.

I didn't argue this. Instead, I went back to sleep.

***

That afternoon (as a vampire, I slept during the day), I had yet another discomforting dream.

I was journeying through evening's blackness, stumbling barefoot on gravel road, trying to keep up with two trucks. Follow the leader. The trucks approached a lake, a black lake that was not illuminated by the moon and stars that hung in the sky, and to my astonishment, the first truck drove into the water and sailed away.

There was a rough man in the second truck, and he stuck his head out of the window to look at me. "Shit," he said, "this really sucks," and he ventured into the water after the first. Being compelled beyond my dream-will, I dove into the water after them.

The two trucks and I floated and bobbed through the water, as though invisible strings were pulling us to some unknown destination. I could not fight this, I could not turn around and go home. I couldn't move my arms to swim away. What if people see you flailing your arms? You'd look like an idiot. So I stopped trying and was carried along my dark way.

Next scene. The streets were drunk and swaying but the people were sober, and they were looking at me. I stumbled through the nightlife, filled with every kind of person, and tonight, even the junkies were sober. And here I was, a sight to be seen (though I was not drenched from my previous excursion), stumbling across the road, laughing at them all, weren't they all prudes in this, looking at me so critically, wasn't I the unrestricted, uncaged bird! I could barely walk but I laughed and I laughed and I laughed.

By the time I got home, I was barely capable of movement. I was beginning to dislike this drunken feeling, this lack of control over my own body. When I finally fit the right key into the right lock, I fell down, face-first onto the worn, dark carpet. I couldn't get up to save my life, or close the door.

However, this scene doesn't end in a blackout like you might expect. As I quickly faded away, I heard a woman's voice, a voice I recognized as my sister's (I don't have a sister).

"Get up, we have to go," she called from the unlit staircase.

Amazingly enough, I got up. I still had some control. I wondered if she was a white mage.

As soon as I had climbed the stairs and was within a five foot radius of her, I could stand up straight, and even walk without leaning on something.

She pulls me toward a window, urging me forward. "We have to go."

I expected to fall through the window and break apart on the cold cement below - but through this window there was only grass, and the foot of a great mountain, glowing in the sunlight. She began to climb with expert skill, and I tried, I really tried, but I fell behind.
"Come on," she said to me, "you can do this."
"I'm still so weak..."
She looked at me hard, infusing me with strength or courage or something (she has to be a white mage) and somehow we both made it to the top. I immediately looked down to scope out what I assumed would be a horrible fall (I could hear my bones smashing already), but right beneath my toes was just a large, open field, with the brightest grass and the sun shining to the perfect degree, no drop, no instant death. Paradise?

My sister was already walking into this god-field. She was naked - I looked down to see her clothes in a heap on the mountain's peak. Follow the leader. I ran to catch up, my clothes left behind in the same spot as hers. And then I realized how different everything was.

First of all, I was no longer the youth I had been at the start - I was now an aging woman, sagging and a little fat. Apparently she had gone through the same transformation as I, but she didn't appear shocked - she smiled as though she'd known this all along.

I was happy. I was walking inside paradise's waiting room. And I guess we weren't the only ones, because we came across a large group of (fully-clothed) individuals, youthful like I thought I was minutes ago, and they were watching us. This ain't no sideshow attraction, folks. I didn't care that I was naked before these people and neither did my sister. But you look like a fool! We just kept on walking, smiling all the while.

In an instant, everything changed again. The skies were now furious red and stormy and a great shadow was cast on this once-lovely world, greying the grass and destroying everything beautiful that I had been feeling. The young people were naked now, too. Follow the leader. And to my horror, they appeared as demons and were having the most terrible, inhuman orgy. Awful screams and savage teeth and tearing claws and eye-socket fucking and if this is, once was, had ever been paradise, the gods must have packed up their bags and ditched town.

Paul was there, in the corner of this movie I was watching, and he had the same sentiments toward the sight as me. "Look at that!" he shouted. "Look at what they're doing! That's fucking disgusting!"

I woke up, opened my eyes wide to erase the images still fresh in my mind. Lit a smoke, tried to blow it the fuck out. This was the new nature of my dreams, and of my life. I was afraid to sleep these days, so I didn't sleep much. However, my real life didn't offer any solace, as these demons began to seep through the unreal into the real, blurring the line, a virus that was corrupting everything that I thought, or felt, or saw, or touched. And me.

Too afraid to sleep, too afraid to be awake. A coward to an enemy I didn't know how to fight, I opened up a book and hid.

random topics of interest

2006-01-24T02:40:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking a lot about perspectives. And also, the intense similarities between the computer and the brain. And also, how fucken awesome final fantasy II is.

I think the computer is like the brain. It's a very, very low-quality brain, but a sort of brain nonetheless.

I keep thinking that we're trying to build the spirit.

Animals, plants, everything on this planet except us, well, they know their place and purpose, and what they must do. They follow some intricate cycle. Us, it's like...it's like we don't belong here, like earth isn't our real home. If we actually fit and knew all this stuff, then we wouldn't be constantly BUILDING...we would have stayed where we were and live in little nomadic tribes in peaceful harmony with nature. But we're not. We come from somewhere else entirely, and we're trying to build it, so this place feels a little more like home...

It's a current idea. It's quite likely to change.

Personally, I love this earth. I love the color, and I love the sounds, and I love the feelings. It's all at once powerful, gentle, beautiful, overwhelming. The way it washes over you in a slow warmth. Snowflakes. Diamonds born from dead trees. The way everything looks when the sky is still blue with daylight but barely, and deep shadows are casted all around. Trees that agree with the breeze. Winter calm, melting snow, summer bloom, autumn glow. I could go on and on and on and on...

Enter people. Maybe we are naturally non-corporeal. Maybe we're living inside of flesh, using it like a tool. All these new, wonderful sensations - touch, taste, smell --- the feelings. These feelings that we've been so amazed and inspired by for thousands of years....trying to explain it, or reproduce it, because it's just so damned beautiful and we have to show everyone. We are here together, after all...to share this strange and painful and wonderful experience...communication. Communication.

The television is an amazing tool. But damn, is it abused. Electronic telepathy, I say. The internet...just as incredible, and even more vast because it's uncensored. It's complete anarchy. Everyone seems to want to tell things to the world, and now it seems everyone actually can. The internet is also a very, very dirty place...abused just as bad as the TV.

I always rag on the people who are "ignorant" and "know nothing" about the "true reality". Obsessed with money and cars and status and power and "beauty", these people have no idea what's going on, so I always say. I've always figured that the general mass of people was this stupid, and that's it's a wee few that actually have a clue. But the media has tricked me again - I bet there's a ton of decent, "real" people out there, and we just don't think so because of how "real people" are portrayed. We think that what we see on TV, all the scary ads and horrible programs (nip/tuck, anyone?), are a demonstration of what the general population is like. ....or maybe it's just what the media WANTS people to be like. A lot of people may be like this....a lot of people aren't.

I just want to learn as much as I can while I'm here. And I have a long ways to go, what a good feeling that is. (exempting, of course, the possibility of some random, fatal accident that could cut my life short.) Oh well. So what. I would live again and spend that life learning, too.

I have lots that I want to say...when you learn things, you just get so damned excited about spreading it around!

Perspective. Point of View. And opinions. There might not be "right" or "wrong" opinions, but I do think there are better opinions. I think a better opinion would be one that encompasses many perspectives.

And also: Life really is what you make it. It's how you choose to view the world. Is it a game? A test? A quest, an ultimate adventure? A comedy, a tragedy? A soap opera? A fairy tale? How do you see the world? What perspective do you live in?

I think mine has shifted so many times that I don't know what it is anymore. I've been figuring so many different points of view that I forget my own. Remember childhood - adventures in the outdoors, getting excited for my sunday bath because then I could continue the epic episodes of my toys' lives, hell, I was making scripts and shitty movies in grade six with my friends. Creating art, creating stories, creating games. Creating. And always, always learning. My granny told me that when I was little, she would say, "Allysia, the pencil crayons are in that cupboard." (and she would point directly to it), and I would open every single cupboard until I found the right one. My aunties and uncles told me that I was always entertaining everyone, and I loved hanging out with people. That I was really happy and energetic. I remember pulling out an accounting book of my mom's, and a blank notebook, and "taking notes" before I even knew how to write - it was no more than scribbling. I highlighted words in an astronomy book before I knew what the words meant. I erased all my answers in a math book because I wanted to do them all again. Playing "sad songs" on the piano, until my mom decided to teach me how to actually play. Learning every single word of every single song in "Cinderella" and singing it for everyone. The things you do as a child, the way you are...how much it says.

And lastly:

A moth's natural course is the moon.
However, the moth will encounter many difficulties:
1. Fire. It's far brighter than the moon.
2. Artificial light. It fucks up their course.
3. If the moth actually manages to get relatively high, it will no doubt suffocate or, if they somehow make it this far, they would burn in the atmosphere.
In other words:
The moth will never reach it's destination. Instead, it will burn.
But it will always try.
How tragic the moth is.

peace.

allysia

get me out of here

2006-01-16T04:13:00.000-06:00

4:12 in the morning, several short minutes from the time I once loved. Now the time is an annoying reminder of everything that's wrong. Now it's just Hitler's birthday.

So here I sit, listening to the sound of the cat snoring, the computer humming a monotone tune, the clock tick-tock-tick-ad.infinitum, the occasional grunt of a furnace that doesn't want to be up at this hour either. I sip a coffee, barely above lukewarm, coffee that was made almost twelve hours ago, and as a result, tastes like, for lack of a better word, shit.

Coffee and cigarettes are the only drugs I have a tolerance for these days, it seems. Coffee makes the world slightly aggravated but at least everything moves quickly. (I'm just another run-of-the-mill speed addict.) As far as cigarettes go, they are the everything drug. Tastes good with coffee, after a good meal, when you wake up, when you go to bed, when you're stressed, when you're bored, when you breathe.

It bothers me greatly to have a pot-mushroom handicap. These are drugs that, as a rule, bring insight and understanding. So why are they bringing me terror and feelings of looming death? Not to mention that when you're high, a single thought of death can lead you to the very reasonable conclusion that your time will be up at any moment. This is not good. This is a clue. Something's wrong. It's making me fucking crazy. I can't wrap my head around it. And I know the answer is right in front of me, I know it. And when I finally find it, it'll be one of those, 'holy shit, how could I have been so blind and ignorant' moments. I hate those moments. Life can be so damn smug sometimes. Life likes getting a laugh on you.

The last time I chomped some shrooms was one of the first weeks living in the appartment. Maybe that was a contributing factor to the badness that ensued. You see, all was running well at first. Kelley, Mike and I were playing cards, waiting for them to kick in. When they did........there was no hilarity, no laughing without a valid reason to laugh, no feelings of pure happiness. Quite the fucken contrary. The strangest fever spread over me in minutes - the most unpleasant heat - and the shaking. The fucking shaking. My heart was burning, but not with love. (the cheese monkey strikes again.) I had a shower, a temporary relief. Then I stumbled into the bedroom, pushed the window open wide, and pressed my face against the screen, gulping in air as if I had been drowning and at last had reached the surface. I crumbled onto the bed, fetal position, a few strings short of sucking my goddamn thumb. The waves of cold air passed through me, and I shook harder, but it cooled the maddening heat inside of me.

The tears started about then. I stifled them best I could, as Kelley and Mike were in the other room, and I didn't want to rain on the parade. I think Steve had come over. I think they were watching 'The Nightmare Before Christmas.' It didn't matter - they were far away, and I was in my own little gritty space. I cannot explain the way this felt. I wasn't sad. I wasn't joyless. I wasn't terrified. I wasn't, I wasn't, I really wasn't. I was in pain, very real, scary, physical pain and it got to the point where I just wanted to die right then, because that seemed very possible and I didn't want to fight anymore.

Mike came, he comforted me. Pet me, brought me back to a space that felt good. The pain had not stopped but he was the opiate to which I gladly submitted.

A trashed mess, I walked back into the living room [in all it's connotations] and curled up to Mike and the movie. Kelley and Steve were concerned but kind, gently but not pitifully asking how I was, to which I replied, I'm better now, I'll be all right. And they left it, making light commentary on the movie, and smiling, and I smiled and the heat became bearable.

Mike had to go to work shortly after, and though he called in to see if he could ditch his shift, no such luck was dealt to me and the heroin left.

I chilled with Steve and Kelley a while longer, weak but having some fun. They left, but it was all right, the worst of it had passed.

I spent the remaining hours of the evening drifting from room to room, feeling as though this appartment was my brain and each messy area had different information inside.

The kitchen was my favourite that night. I laid on the cold floor and stared up at the ceiling fan, spinning madly, as the world, passing the air around. The fan transformed into a beautiful blue and orange flower, and I watched, I burned it into my head and carry it around to this day.

Kelley had no negative effects that night. I can only partially understand why it was so terrible for me.

Pot works in a subtler way, still unpleasant. It feels as if I'm standing inside a moment of my life - all the scenery and people and all that's real - but outside of the moment, there is nothing but a void, like a little box in the middle of a vast darkness. It feels as though any moment I might fall into that darkness and disappear.

Not to mention the heart, the heart that hurts.

I was aware, I knew what was going on. Then I saw more and discovered that I was in a third-world prison, brainwashed into believing I belonged there. Then I grew afraid, hopeless. Try to feebly escape and those demon-creatures beat me back, harder and harder. Exit seems impossible. This is how it feels. I'm just another one of those little pawns being used and abused by the media, what they've been feeding me with. One of those people I always held in high contempt. I am one of those people. The only difference is, I am aware of it. But I don't want to be. The reality is terrible. I don't want to know what's going on anymore, I want to sleep, I want to dream. I want to convince myself that I'm better than that, that I'm strong enough to evade brainwashing, that the whole prison thing is no more than a paranoid delusion, a daydream as I am sitting in a field with the sun shining, the love blooming, a dark idea that I can stop at whim.

Please, please, I'm begging you, will you free me, will you offer a brilliant escape route, anything, a scrap of a plan, a way, a solution, please. I don't belong here. And once I'm free, I promise that I'll devote my entire life to freeing the rest of those poor bastards, so no one has to live in a cage any longer and we can move again.

The silence is knives...

grey day.

2006-01-02T14:32:00.000-06:00

What's wrong?
Is it wrong or is it right?
What's right?
Is it day or is it night?

What's gotten into me?
What's gotten into me.

What's wrong?
Is it right or is it wrong?
Is it here or is it gone?
Is it weak or is it strong?
Is it dusk or is it dawn?

This has gone on far too long.
This has gone on far too long.

What am I?
Am I right or am I wrong?
Am I here or am I gone?
Am I weak or am I strong?
Why can't I just get along?

Take shelter in the center.
Lukewarm just might be better.
Take shelter in the center.
Swim inside the loop.
Swim inside the loop.

Tick tock, evil clock. Start the minute I stop. Tick tock, rolling rock. Nothing soft and warm inside. That was the night I must have died. This breathing thing is no more than a lie. Reply. Why? Nothing means anything, right? Winterbite. Watch it through the rhyming smokescreen. (Trying to make pretty of otherwise unrhythmic, unflowing chatter) Death will get you clean. Wait...What was I trying to mean?

joy.

2005-12-31T13:06:00.000-06:00

So here I am. Sitting here alone on the day before the new year, according to the lame calendar we have. Wanna know what sucks? Okay. Well you see, yesterday I went to Melville with Mike, to party with him and his family, before he goes away to Alberta for several months. It was all well and good. This morning I took the bus home, seeing as I had to work today. Then I found out from my parents that my manager is completely fucken stupid, and I don't work today, because Smitty's closes at 5. And so, I could have stayed and hung out with Mike. I could have.

But alas, I'm alone. For a long, long time.

So I suppose I'll be ringing in the New Year's alone. All my friends are off doing bigger and better things, and I have no means to get anywhere. Woo fucken hoo.

Maybe I'll just sit here all the time and become a massive hermit. I'll accept my fate of being a social outcast. Something like that.

Mopedy mope mope mope.

peace.

allysia

(happy new years!)

edited me.

2005-12-27T15:17:00.000-06:00

my auntie took a styling class in grade 11, so we decided she was best equipped to fancify my hair. here goes, flavor of the month.

christmas and the life game

2005-12-25T16:12:00.000-06:00

Blog is such a strange word. Blog, blog, blog. I think of sludgy water. I think of strange, pink, balloony creatures like jigglypuff, only slightly less round and more deformed. The thought-forms of blogs are bubbly, soft, shapable. Some kind of funky putty.

Anyway. It's Christmas, and for some bizarre reason, I find myself here. Well it's not a bizarre reason. I'm exaggerating. It's just that lots of people are over, people beyond my immediate family, which is fine, but it's way too loud and my head is still ringing. I'm not good with huge family gatherings. Socialization becomes a duty, and it does not flow freely or deeply. For me. Maybe i'm simply removing myself (she says as she sits in a quiet room, away from all the bustle).

Not to say I don't like these people. These people are pretty cool. You know cats, the kind of cat that sits on something high and watches all the action instead of participating in it? That's how I feel. But I also feel it's slightly anti-social to do so. I guess I care about possible, internal thought-judgements from these people. I guess I don't want to seem a big loser. It's not like I am. I'm fairly sure I'm only a little bit of a loser. But I don't want to seem it. So what am I to do? Go out there and impress them all with my outgoing ways, talking about nothing that matters to me, so freely? Like those people. You know the ones. They think they're so cool because they do spontaneous things, like for example, they start randomly dancing. They think they're so hilarious. If I were to be like that, then no one would think badly of me.

Why don't I just be myself? Well, from what I know of myself, I'm the kind of person who observes the scene, then joins the scene, then exits the scene to observe a different one. Learn the rules of a game and then play it. So why don't I do that? Well I guess I don't really want to. It's kind of a boring game. They ask you what you're doing, and you tell them the same shit answer, that I'm working and generally existing but not a whole hell of a lot more. Then I could ask them what they're doing, and their answer will be long but vague, and you smile and say that's awesome. Then, you take an idea from their little talk and you ask about it. Then they expand on it. Then you understand what they're saying better, and you say, oh, okay, I understand, while hinting at the fact that you think it's really fucken incredible, even if they just told you about their life as a plumber. Finally, you look somewhere else for a few seconds, and join in the conversation that the others are having, and pretend like it caught your attention so you have an excuse for exiting the prior conversation.

I make my family sound like a real drag. They're not. They're funny and smart. But as far as contributing goes, well, usually I don't. My thoughts are a little too strayed. I'll say something and everyone will stop talking. I'm a conversation killer.

So I laugh at the jokes and learn about these people, and I drink a fuckload of coffee to keep the headache at bay. Didn't work this time. Don't know why I'm not more tolerant today. It's fucken Christmas and I have nothing to say.

Except, you know, everything I just said.

Also, I'm getting that electric grand from my parents. Suffice to say, when I unrolled the letter and learned of this, I was the first to cry this Christmas. But I didn't beat Granny by much - five minutes later she got her touching gift of the year and put my own display of sentimentality to shame.

Maybe it seems like I'm just pretending. I'm pretending to be interested and full of emotion and all that. I don't see this being true. I have crafted my life into a performance. Every waking hour of my life I am performing. Sometimes I'm off my game. Sometimes I don't do very well, because sometimes what I am feeling and thinking is boring and I can't really embellish it. But it's not like I fake happy when I'm crying inside. It's nothing like that. My character deals. My character doesn't like to bring people down. My character tries to embellish the good.

I'm wondering if anyone thinks this is wrong, that by 'acting' my life I'm being dishonest and false. I wonder if they realize it's more than some sort of play. It's who I am. It's what I do.

Well, I guess this is pretty long and I should go back to the coffee grind. I guess I should play like I always must. I guess I must participate.

My parents got themselves a super fucken grand telescope this year. We're checking it out tonight, can't wait.

Happy Christmas. Have fun. Get drunk. It's warm out tonight.

Allysia

Melville and Inertia

2005-12-21T09:52:00.000-06:00

melville trip.

On friday evening, I recieved a phone call from my beloved aunties, saying, "Allysia, would you like to go to Melville?" Well, of course I said yes. These aunties, Anj and Kato, live in Calgary. I never see them. *and* my grandparent's farm is the ultimate place for healing and peace of mind. Dunno why. Guess it's the only real home I have. *and* I would get to hang out with my beloved friends. So, I threw some shit in a bag (completely forgetting about socks, which many people would later regret...) and 10 minutes later, we were on our way.

So there was chatting, of course. Still tipsy from the wine Mike and I were drinking, the conversation flowed freely.

Saturday, it was my grandpa's birthday. Also, I hung out with my excellent friends. See, I was all tricky, and I surprised them. But Amber was half-asleep and not as enthusiastic as I had hoped, and Dylan was angry that he was fooled. The best reaction was from Jen - but it always is. Jen's a character.

So, the four of us caught up, did our chat, chilled at Matty's where the jukebox ate shit and died. We had a funeral, then proceeded to coffee again, this time with 7 people. As we were all packed in one booth, well, it didn't work too well but it was fun while it lasted.

And that was that. We departed. There was much glomping, particularily from Wonderbread.

And next week I am able to return to them, and the best place in the world. This is a good thing. This chills the stress a bit. This makes my trivial and petty problems (but, you know, catastrophic to me) easy to shove aside. This makes another christmas with the family. I see Jason tonight, and it's been...it's been since last October in Toronto. I woke up in the city and I haven't slept since...man am I rambling.

I need to do something. I'm withering away. Inertia. But it's calmer now.

Allysia

On Love

2005-12-14T18:41:00.000-06:00

I love people.

No, really. I do. To a fault, oftentimes. If you love them, you're going to be constantly giving them the benefit of a doubt, no matter how fucked up they are, no matter how they wrong you. And the first slayer says it best when she says, "love is pain". It is. It's also the best part of this world. Without it, we wouldn't be human. But it's painful.

You might say that if you truly love someone, it's nothing but pure, unadultered happiness. For if you hurt because of it, then it can't really be love. I agree. I also strongly disagree. I don't feel like I can properly explain myself. I only hope you understand.

I like to think of my mother. We love each other, deeply, truly. But through my rebellious years we have put each other through so much shit - we have hurt each other in the worst ways. We also have forgiven each other, time and time again. No matter how mad I got, no matter how much I promised myself that I would never forgive her for hurting me, I did, because I love her.

Now, you might say, if someone you love attacks you with a knife and you barely make it out alive, then it's ridiculous to forgive them. They tried to kill you! Fuck sakes, how could you forgive that. If that happened to me, then I wouldn't associate with that person anymore, they'd be out of my life for good. But I would forgive them. Not because it makes sense to, not because they deserve it, but because I love them.

Of course this is a good and a bad thing. People will walk all over you, take advantage of the fact that you will forgive them if they hurt you. To some, it's an open invitation to attack, simply because they get away with it. It sucks. I have put up with so much shit in my time. I have gone through so much pain. So maybe it's wrong, stupid, to love. No matter what. Maybe it is. It will likely be my downfall. But like I said before, though love may be pain, it's also the most beautiful thing, and I know I won't regret it.

I didn't write this to make a solid point, or to try to make sense. To argue my side and say, "hey, I'm right." I just wanted to explain it, in all of it's irrationality. Love doesn't make sense.

Oh well. I'm out.

Ally

brooding.

2005-12-12T22:35:00.000-06:00

I am my own enemy.

Alas, a fight I cannot win.

Overcome. Got to overcome. Keep with the movin' on. I have to take care of myself. But when I keep creating fresh wounds...guess I can't take care of myself. And I have to. And I have to take care of the cats. And I have to take care of him. And I have to take care of those fucking paintings in the next 10 days.

Responsibility has never been something I've been good at.

And it's just getting worse and worse every day. Can a fucken crippled and blind fool with some brutal heart-wounds care for another with the same dilemma? How the fuck am I supposed to do this? And I sound...I sound so fucking emo. So fucking sad and pathetic. Bleeding in the corner. Crying tears of .. oh, I don't know ... tears of death and despair. I thought I moved past this shit. I thought a lot of things.

I'm becoming what I hated.

And I don't know how to stop. I don't know where I am. I'm just gone.

Ally

old papers and dreams

2005-12-08T20:17:00.000-06:00

So today, I decided to sort through my mounds of papers, from days past, as far back as 1995. I've been writing poems for a long time, and scripts and stories for even longer. When I was a young-un in elementary school, I won a writing award. In high school, we had to do this thing, where you have 2 class periods to write an essay on a topic they give you. Then, big top-shot teacher folk would read them, and grade them between 1-5, 5 being best. No one in my class got a five. There were two of us that got a four, though, myself being one of them. Well that really floated my boat.

However, my writing has gone to shit, mostly because I've done very little of it in the last few months. So going through old junk is nice. Playing old guitar tunes almost makes me remember how I used to feel. In the days of feeling.

I've had several very strange dreams in my life, and I've found copies of them. The only two I didn't write down, I didn't need to, because they've stuck with me.

When I was very young, I had a dream that has stayed with me for more than ten years. It took place at the farm - my home at the time. I wandered into the basement, and pacing on the cement floor were two evil german shephards. Suffice to stay, the door to upstairs was locked, and I was devoured by these dogs. No matter how I screamed, nobody opened the door and helped me.
They turned a blind eye and I was not saved,
And my enemy got the meal he most craved.

The other, I had it in about grade nine. I was floating along a magical stream on a giant lily pad. Suddenly, I was in a strange basement, and in front of me was a door. Now, I knew that something was hiding behind the door, but yet I could not stop myself from opening it. I stepped into the room, and waiting on the ceiling was a horrible woman, crazed and demonic, and then, she attacked me. Her strength was far beyond mine - she threw me around the room, and up on the ceiling, and I fell to the floor, and as my neck snapped, I woke up.

It is quite possible I've pissed some strange entities off. It's also quite possible that I have a violent imagination.

ally

on shit, mysteries and god

2005-12-06T14:31:00.000-06:00

I have been sleeping a lot lately.

It seems that the old habits have returned. I stay awake until after five, and then I sleep a whole bunch. Only this time, I have no writing project, I'm not going through a period of deep pondering or such. I simply roam about, trying to think of something.

Sensory deprivation is interesting, try it out sometime.

Was having a dream not too long ago, but it's gone now.

Coffee is being made.
[even coffee doesn't make me want to be awake,
everything just moves quicker so it's easier to take]
Don't I sound like a big lump of emo.

The TV is talking about pouring custard. Little man lies on the floor, and Sir William hangs his head in shame. Mike is fiddling with a lego man, and I'm sitting here, trying to find something to be interested in.

Yesterday we discussed Stonehenge, how the hell a bunch of tiny druids managed to move huge slabs of stone 500 miles. The bermuda triangle, how shit just disappears there - boats, planes, people. At the bottom, there is a weird mineral that they can detect, a mineral that has not been discovered, but they can't get to it. The egyptian pyramids, and how the biggest one is on the direct center of the world. The Aztec ruins, those huge symbols on the ground that you can only see when you fly a plane over it. Easter Island, and the hundreds of statues, with only the heads poking up, looking similar, and with no artist flaws, and no signs that any humans were ever there.

God once existed. This I can now know. In the big bang, slowly giving pieces of it's energy to the universe, to the planets, to Earth, To amoeba, to plants, animals, people. Like a parent, it infused us with it's qualities, and like a parent, it had to leave us on our own, to make our own way. Jesus was likely the last clue, before God sent us on our own. An example of how we should be. And now God only exists in everything around us, inside us - not above or beyond us, not controlling us.

I don't think God would only have one planet-child, I think he had many.

Anyway. I'm out.

Allysia

Disappearance.

2005-12-05T02:00:00.000-06:00

I must find the answer before it is too late. Before I cross the line of no return. The clues have been misleading; I follow them zealously, only to find that they do not lead to the solution. To the Criminal In Black Clothing who is the demon of my mind.

Questions - is it really so bad? I can't find the demon, so is it even real at all? And: how do you kill a demon? A childish notion, that I could fight evil with love. ...Is it possible?

[Before it is too late.] The state of myself is chaotic. I have trouble extracting order from it. I have a deep feeling of urgency - that if I do not defeat this demon in good time, I will never be free from it's tyranny, that it's power will beat mine, that this dark virus will spread until every ounce of my being is consumed.

This, I do not want. I want good to triumph over evil, like those goddamned fairy tales I was spoon-fed when I was too young to feed myself.

The state of my memory is a clue that this demon is very real. I will say something in conversation, only to forget the entire topic less than twenty seconds later. It has gotten to the point where I will often say an absurd sentence; "you want not see the car outside?" Ironically, I've barely smoked pot at all these past months. Drugs are clearly not the problem here.

This tiny detail might not mean much, but it is so consistent that I can't help but think it's just another small part of me, getting all fucked-up because of some much bigger, much stronger problem.

[If there were big, obvious clues, believe me, I would have sought them out already.]

More questions, more chaos, less ability to make sense of it. The structure is dissippating. I was once a good speller - now I'm pretty sure I spelt disippating wrong. Last night, I spelt 'eye' like 'iye'. Reality as I know it is collapsing. The glass of water on the table is merely energy in a clever disguise. Behind these walls, is static. Static, the transparency of this apparition.

I just need something real. Something to hold on to. How is a world created inside a void?

Maybe this all comes from a loss - the loss of the warm, happy hug of god. The feeling you get when everything is full of meaning, full of everything, and everything is beautiful. A higher purpose, a cosmic oneness, a spiritual connection to something pure, and loving, and kind. Could a loss of this cause such terrible feelings of evil and darkness?

Empty. Empty. It's why people eat a lot. Or why they live their lives through television. Or why they convince themselves that they're the best person who ever lived. It's why people cling on to god. Empty.

What is my solution? How do I build to the point where I am once again, on occasion, brimming over with love and happiness? Where do I start? What should the floorboards be made out of? And where are the floorboards gonna go, anyway?

Fight evil with love. It was once possible, but now, seems like a rusty weapon choice. I love. I do. But it isn't strong, and it's hardly real. It still runs through my veins, I'm still alive. How to let it grow. Let the blood flow. How to let it go.

You keep telling me to relax. I keep asking how.

[how long, how long must we sing this song]

allysia

Update-ism

2005-12-03T13:01:00.000-06:00

calli, chillin out on the compy chair. it seems to be her spot of choice, where she likes to sit and see everything going on in the living room, kitchen, and hallway. little man can't sneak up on her this way.

I like the personalities of these cats, they make a good pair. Take this one, Calli, for example. She's a little observer. She'll sit atop something high, flick her tail, and check out what's going on. One day she'll make a wise human. And then there's General, the Attention Whore. Oh, but I love him. If Calli's a watcher, General's a doer. At least he knows how to entertain himself. Once, as I was chillin in bed, I heard a huge commotion down the hallway. It sounded to me like a plastic bag was involved. So I looked around, I looked everywhere, and then when I looked under the couch, there he was, looking ashamed, wearing a plastic bag. Ahh, he was so embarassed.

Anyway. I work in a couple hours. There are things to do. Mike just left on a trek to Canadian Tire. His car's sanity is very unstable - all I have to say is, 'fucken Taurus's,' star sign and car alike.

I'm thinking about posting that dream I had, but it's really long. Dreams are more interesting than mundane ramblings, though.

I'm also thinking about posting some creative work I've done through the ages, but that could take up a lot of pages. I might just need an external site for all that shit. We'll see how it goes.

Until next time.

Waffleism

Small Town, Big Heart

2005-12-02T15:16:00.000-06:00

Mundare was a small town we all visited on our journey to Edmonton. We were quite taken by the giant sausage.

here i go again.

2005-12-01T20:59:00.000-06:00

a new look, and none of those old, rambly posts of the far-off past. oh, this is a pointless post. basically, i'm just testing everything out. i really have nothing good to say.

go team.

allysia