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- ********0
Well you are, arentcha?
- grunttt0
so yeah, i've been having some gray hair pop up for the past 2-3 years (I'm 32). Nothing too bad but yes it's noticable if one is paying attention. well I just came from the bathroom where the mirror is big as hell. I saw what appeared to be a rather large (size of my hand) spot of gray on the top of my head. I moved around hoping it was the light reflecting on my oh-so-shiny-clean hair but the spot remained. I walk back into the office and ask my co-designer about it. He say's "yeah I noticed that a couple of days ago." Then I call my wife on the cell phone and she says "yeah, i noticed that a couple of days ago." WTF People??? Why wouldn't you bring this up??? I am about 2 weeks overdue for a haircut so maybe that has something to do with it. But daaaamn. I'm only 32. Could be worse though. I could be going bald. But then again my co-designer did just say "I'm going to start calling you Anderson Cooper."
- mr_snuggles0
Flux=Rad ~ Pavement
- ********0
false staff= asphalt
- ********0
what is rad pavement
I have some grey hair, but I'm quite old
- taragee0
actually taht is just dust
- ********0
angel dust?
- taragee0
DISCO GODFATHER!!!
- GreedoLives0
John Oldcastle
- neue75_bold0
I suspect my mother is a lesbian, but it's just a hunch...I don't think this 'Red Hat' group is all that it appears to be...
omo
I need sleep...
- Jaline0
this thread is going to cause someone's computer to explode
- neue75_bold0
ahh, but then there would be a point to it all and that's not in the blog's cards...
- ********0
what is the red hat group?
- ********0
is that the log cabin where you grew up?
- neue75_bold0
hahaha, ye olde settlement, pa and I used to sit on the front porch, whittling away at that ol' chestnut...watching the clouds roll in... um, no, I'm not sure where that is, somewhere in Saskatchewan... I've yet to visit them since they moved out there 2 years ago... but I know that's not their shack...
- ********0
did he drink canada dry?
- neue75_bold0
literally? No, America is busy with that...
- emokid0
it is sad when even your desperate attempts at getting attention don't yield any favorable results. i am now out of ideas.
- rasko40
Occasionally, last night for instance, I have tremendous streams of conciousness. Torrential multi-persona conversations I have with myself, multi-faceted they are and they bound with wonder, wit and wry observation. I amaze myself as my mind stands back from itself, watching as if from afar as I myself hop like a spring lamb from one subject to the next and back, linked seamlessly with the golden thread clearly purchased from the very same haberdasher as Jack Kerouac, John Fanté and the greats. As you can see, I weave great lies with this thread. Last night I wondered as I stood aside from myself, I wondered how I may capture this winding river of humanity, I toyed with the idea of pen and ink, microphone and tape, I pondered what modern methods may be available and I cast them all aside, as I always do. I have trashed sketchbooks, burnt bridges, tossed canvasses, I have ignored dreams and premonitions, I have cast away the scribblings of a madman because I am forever sure they shall come again. Why keep what is inside me I ask myself, clearly I can reproduce these fragments at a moments notice, I can sketch these sketches, remember these memoirs, laugh again at these happenings, conjure these dreams whenever I desire, as they are the very product of my own creation. That is what I think. That is my belief as I lie in my slumber, as I toss away my past and incinerate my albums.
In fact this is not the case. My memory is weak. I rarely remember my dreams let alone real events I have been party to. My creativity is often stifled, ideas are forgotten, plans are as if mirages, one moment in my sight, the next faded and vanished. I wonder how many people are the same, perhaps many, perhaps all. how many lie in their dreamboat alone on a Tuesday for two hours at a time, their mind alone in a discussion with themselves, sitting sideways listening intently to the waves of thought crashing to the shore. Bubbles of time, a foam of a mans inspiration. How many watch the tide ebb and flow, how many watch their thoughts drift away down the river never to return? How many capture them in plastic bottles and cast them out to drift, to float along the ocean into some others life perhaps, to be reborn, reinterpreted, renewed, relived.
I wonder how much I have wasted, whether I am sinning to the cosmos or whether I am liberating these fantastic bubbles I am sometimes permitted to catch, I wonder if this typing is for better or for worse, I wonder if it matters, or who cares. I wonder.
And then, no doubt, I am an old man, I am old, I am dust, I am gone. Perhaps it never mattered, perhaps nobody ever cared, no doubt this is mans turmoil, for does it ever really matter? Indeed, it is my opinion it does not matter, because I hope we are all the same, I hope we all have these very same thoughts, and I wish, I beg that we do ponder, and we go outside of ourselves to listen, to hear the cries of others for we are the same.
I am a naive man. But, I believe there is hope in my 2 am thoughts, and I look forward to wasting another batch this very eve.
I wonder.