she laughs when she's crying.

it's strange how empty the seat next to you can feel when you're wondering what could be said to a jacket pocket.

part One.) when walking down cement slabs in the bitter cold or mildewed-mold of late winters falling sleet, be sure to hide your tobacco-packed cylinders in etched silver cases deep in your pockets, because, lean members of the vegan scene might point and stare, but that somehow never deters them from boldly asking if they can, "bum a square".

i know i’ll hang onto gloved hands tightly because the drifter on the corner of congress let go of his and look at all the world left him. no one can travel on through dreams and dusks and blood-red-dawns for much longer then they leave the lights on in the kitchen at the house next to where beaubien meets coffee-house street (pound your feet, pound your feet) and even we cant sit on the stoop our whole lives and pound these beats while mom yells and tells us that she needs the grooves and carrots peeled so she can cook us dinner. her only wish is that we get, happy and healthy, not bitter and thinner like the flakeout scene-sters who "do it for fashion" and have no real passions other then accelerated passage from this life into the next as a result of broken hearts and one too many cigarettes consumed while walking in the rain.

the people who know me will say i am a hipster kid, but 'not like the rest'...i will accept this, just as long as i am never placed under the same classification above.

remember past is past and present is present, but both collide at some point in time...don't make choices presently, which will soon be your past and in that present you do not want to regret them.


part Two.) an essential element for your day: right click this LINK, save target as, open your preferred musical player, sip your coffee/tea/over priced flavored water and listen to the groove each morning of each day.
by doing so, your blues might just be shaking loose.
and if you crave more, you can click HERE.

this here, my friends, might just be the one-two step in life.


and just so i have not completely bored you with my rite...

hotel ponchatrain. a rarity, i guess you could say. ; ]

for those of you who were unable to see this incredible group on their quick U.S. tour, please click [HEAR] to see and listen to a live set by the corporation...

seet seet

it's a funny concept, if you stop to think about it.

it's always in the sky, somewhere "up there" just outside of attainment, hidden behind the sun, a place you "go to" ["if you've been good"] after you burn out your slack bag of bones and shuffle off this mortal coil. it's hidden in the cosmos, above and beyond the dirt and grime and suffering and struggle that comprises a large part of a daily existence on our wretched little rock.

here's the catch --"everyone wants to got there, but nobody wants to die," as the saying goes. so what in the gods' name do you do? you try to get as close to it as you can, singe your wings with whatever's at hand. and "whatever's at hand" is quite often one of the following: religion, alcohol, drugs, and that slippery little ideal called "love." these manifestations of the ecstasy/oblivion existential coin-toss are, ironically enough, collectively responsible for more deaths than anything else, except time and possibly starvation.

how's that for a vicious orbit?

we can't run from who we are. our destiny chooses us.

"sprower" - hybrid flower: spreticus colorum planticus



[the above is the direct cause of the sprower being in sights of the perranasaurus hex]

a creation made my unlearn research laboratories.
a hybrid cross between the spree candy and unlearn signature 'bittersweet' flower.
manufactured for agriculturists and candy cravers alike!


"a brilliant cross between the world's most peculiar flower and favorite candy! astounding!" - economist dev p.
"god couldn't have done any better" - drew, a passionate perry hater


we encourage comments and thoughts on this fascinating product...

.READ THIS POST...IT WILL BE INTERESTING, I PROMISE.

.style in progress // toronto // 04.
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such a lively and mercurial person you are. constantly interupting the flow of circumstance as a conscious speed bump towards that perverbial brick wall. haven't we, after so many mishaps, seen that the wall is a construct of our own over-caffinated minds? aren't things getting just a wee-bit ridiculous aroud here?

i have never seen so many blantant signals of pointing at the demise of civilization and so much ineptitude to do anything about it. why don't we just call it a day and have a cosmic yard sale in hopes that perhaps we could see off the better remaining parts of ourselves! at least then we could walk away with something to show for it.

the skeptic.


at this rate, there will be nothing left but dust and non-biodegradables. which will indeed become the housing for some single ceeled organism 2 aeons later that eventually will hvae a brain large enough to become vain and marvel at the porgress they have made around the time they figure out how to put a Starbucks at every street corner and make it seem like a good idea to everyone passing by. that inorganic housing left behind by the trogladytes would have the perfect evolutionary cheap cheat sheet for that first, single celled organism, giving it the perfect excuse to mutate juuust left of 'intended'.

what would have your average, everyday humanoid cleaing the kitchen, (4 million years later) into an average, everyday humanoid cleanign the kitchen but with the curious ability to microwave his/her hand without fear of harm! ADVANTAGE!

and it's advantages, seeming chaotic, circumstancial advantages that give us silly humans the advantages over other life forms. but darned the blasted conscience!

constantly interupting the flow of circumstance as a subconscious speed bump towards that perverbial brick wall. why the flaw? was the non-biodegradable left for us not 4,000,000 years earlier, not but 2 inches far enough to the left to catch the sun at the crucial time of the day? did a rival, single celled organism try and get nasty with you on some nuclear morning and knock the plastic whathaveyou off it's balance? forever adulterating the growth of our hero!

i'm backing the yard sale.

.nebulas bloom, planets collide, and comets zoom around the checker board like a bratty little brother on his new, blue bike leaving snail trails of ice in his wake.
.ancient cosmic afterbirth floats helplessly on it's own intertia waiting impatiently for the next bullying gas giant to nudge it towards its next helpless destination and i sit in a thai restaurant basking in the curry, fretting over the uncertainty of the dawn.
.i need to arm myself like a rodent lower on the food chain readying itself for the next attack from all sides.
.the voice inside the box is certain that if i get what he has, my armor will be complete, my hole will be filled, and the bombardment will cease.
."this sweater does this, that gadget does those, and this magazine will address the most pertinent aspects of my dotdotdot.com" and i believe him! i dont want to, but as always, my feable self follows the psych that is my mind.
.i am a little kitten in a big, shit filled litter box and i share this facility with a billion other fiercely independent felines who want badly to arm themselves too against the borders of uncertainty and keep their pawas clean in the meantime. meantime, meantime, mean time, MEAN TIME, meantime....
.yet the more i dig, the more i consume, the more i unfold, the less protected i feel.
.i am the spit on the hair of a son of an electron swimming around the nucleus of a cell inside the sperm of a killer bee and my purpose is as nebulous as why we've been bestowed with capacity TO GIVE A SHIT(!).

.broken.
.beaten.
.worked.
.we are mere animals, trying to find our next prey in this rubbish filled world.
.but the difference between me and the rest of them, you ask?.....i found my prey and i think im content with what ive got.

tired of sex(?)