The rain and crows flock to me in such times…

I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel he deserves it though. I don’t think there’s many people in common day lives of working class folk that deserve to be consumed by malignant cell growth. He’s not the greatest human ever, and either in the next few weeks or in years to come he’ll pass and have a small gathering at his funeral. His name won’t live much beyond my lifetime but I owe some degree of paternal respect for at least giving me the genetics to be intelligent and healthy. More I think of things he’s attempted to help with or make up for or things he did albeit a failing marriage and it breaks my heart a bit. There’s kindness in him but it’s masked by pain and hurt he’s carried since his mother died.

Inverted -

To be a healthy and physically fit male with no interest in socializing or disrobing the opposite sex makes you go inward in the least healthy ways. 

Getting old?
Not the right person?

Starting to eat at me a bit more but it’s kind of defeating when you have intimacy handed to you and it’s the least interesting thing in your life. 


I really wonder somedays where my friends have vanished off to. Conveniently when I could use them most, they’re so far away from their phones or methods of contact that I might as well not know them at all.. 

Is it so hard to ask for a handful of dependable humans that would remotely be interested in hanging out with me rather than me having to be the one hounding them to gain group access every now and then? Also a nice trend in people skipping out on plans I make with them.. fucking flakes. 


This recent bout of shoulder pain.. I would wish only on a few people ever.. Feels like I’ve got a bit of iron wedged under my collar bone, snagging tendons and muscles and making half of my body feel immobile.. 

Half finished neck piece by Andrew Alexander @ Planet Caravan Tattoos - Regina, Sk, Canada. 

Half finished neck piece by Andrew Alexander @ Planet Caravan Tattoos - Regina, Sk, Canada. 

10:30 forehead express.

The earth-shaking ‘pang’ of a locomotive passing through your skull. Optimism on par with that of the Titanic - Bright, but ultimately leads to denial-induced-demise. 

Fuck, why am I even writing like that.
Dear Self.
There’s nothing fucking graceful or spectacular about this menagerie of fail. This walking definition of pathetic.

In love with things you can’t have, chasing dreams you won’t complete, having ambitions that will always fall to the way-side of things?

Music? Like that’s going anywhere.
You can’t fucking keep your brain focused on what day of the fucking week it is yet alone what chord progression you’re running, or what your general idea is. Give me a break - every other creative p.o.s endeavor you’ve attempted has fallen flat and turned into an extra piece of furniture to pile your possessions onto.    

You spend money on the most useless of things. Your interests lead absolutely fucking nowhere. Who the fuck would hire you with a Biology major. As a paramedic, welder, carpenter.. Anything. You’re lucky you keep  meeting ‘friends’ with easily accessible jobs. 

Wake the fuck up. Do something with your miserable life. Or go rot in the ground so someone can get paid to figure out who the fuck you never were and if anyone should care.  


A warring of mind over body, of body over mind, of a balance, of a favoring, of a scholarly path, of a vagabond journey, of financial security, of day to day stretch, of shape and definition, or simply being. 

Choices, too many.
Freedom is far from having choices. The ability to choose is one of potential torture. Freedom without moderation is dangerous to a mind without borders. To a mind unlocked from monotony.

I need focus. Some kind of nudge. Some kind of path to better adjust my limitless interests into a more focused approach to life and living it.

I need to decide if I am to attend post secondary, or continue ‘uneducated’ but always learning.
Invest in a future that might not be there with my current study interests, or live my life day to day, and have more stories for old age.


Observation -

Half a second to undo a week. 

Rose colored lenses shift into the frosted glass of a vodka bottle. Or vice versa?
Caught up in a momentary lapse of .. everything really. 
Walls dissolved, cage opened, barriers dropped… Happiness blurred with booze creates a unique kind of hurtful disappointment. 
The one lone spark to ignite the fires, burning from inside out.
Reset with smoldering embers and shorting current. Sparks, fizzle. 
Sheet metal buckling in on itself. 
Coming home to pristine exterior, and half-heartedly gutted innards.
Like those market fish so cleanly prepared and dressed for marketing, and gutted by unskilled hands. Like the display models - Timeless, hollow. 

Should view people more like the ocean. Some reach crests in your view, some bring you to a highpoint, must keep in mind gravity of human nature brings crests and hightides down. Best not be swept into undercurrent.  

Observation -

Pain must be one resilient son of a bitch, or an overly fortunate zombie. 
Pain killers either need a different day job, or acquire better aim.

Processing Curiosity

I prefer clean lines and sharp contrast.
Muddled abstractions and a blended palate.
Photo-realism of things not in existence.
To ignore one is to become partially blind. 

I prefer outlandish features, off-beat thinking.
To tinker with things not broken, to learn new things.
To see the intrinsic beauty in everything.
All life is important, the universe demands diversity.

I prefer the stripped down basic notes of the delta.
The electronically synthesized notes of the jet-set.
The timeless notes of Bach, Vivaldi, and Brahms.
The inner rhythms of heart, machine and mind. 

I prefer the written word, the spoken word, the strummed word, the drummed word.
The words of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
The words of ideas near forgotten, ideas saturating the masses, ideas leaning into modern limits. 

I prefer having interest in the broad spectrum of things and never being satisfied with what I know. 
I prefer not maintaining a pin-hole knowledge in a macrocosm of information.
I prefer knowing nothing about knowing everything. 
I prefer keeping curious. 


Thirsty Brain.

Albeit a previously strong stance AGAINST post secondary education.. I’m seriously leaning towards it. 
Don’t quite understand the process, how to go about it, besides look at a board of things and point, hopefully implying “I’d like that one for less than $5000, Alex.”  

Curiosity is my single greatest attribute that’s been pointed out by friends.
I obsess over the most varied amount of topics i’ve seen someone delve into at once. Most recently German philosophical writings a la Herman Hesse, Quantum physics and string theory, Germanic/Norse mythology and creation stories, and now a gnawing to learn and understand everything about the universe, space, the stars, the cosmic biology, our biology, gene traits, expression, human/synthetic interfacing, improving prosthetic limbs, improving neural links between our nerves and wiring of machines and computers.

Pardon the romantic in me and any hint of ego (for there really was no intention to sound pompous) , but I wish to pass knowing I assisted humanity step out of armchair sciences, and see significant advances in areas beyond destroying our planet and each other.