(no subject)
"Sometimes in life there are consequences to the actions a hero must face,
to the end of the universe.
Watch out for bears.
To them, you are spaghetti dinner.
Perfect hair forever.
"Find some things and bring them to mountain,
the mountain which does not exist.
Fulfill your destiny.
Do that thing to that guy.
Play that trick on him.
Pee pee in your coke.
Old Chinese joke.
Perfect hair forever."
It's pretty decent advice when you think about it. I recently made a connection between religion and vice. It gave me an excuse to think instead of clean the kiosk today.
Maybe the reason people smoke, people drink, people play Russian Roulette isn't because they particularly enjoy the activity itself, but by ritualizing it with others, they become part of a greater idea. The cigarette, the bottle, and the gun all become makeshift idols. Objects of power and worship. We're all proving to ourselves that we're all made of the same material because our bad habits treat us all equally.
I suppose, now, though, it isn't just vice. It may be every social activity. Picnicking, clubbing, going to the movies. Why not just eat, dance, and watch movies at home? When I think too much, it ruins life for a little while. Every entertainment center now looks like an altar. Every chair, couch, and carseat: a pew. Everybody is alone, and nobody is.
Yesterday, I made one of the larger pilgrimages to Islands of Adventure with Cody, Kristina, Corbin, Stephanie, Stephen, and Heather. It was great fun, much moreso than I even expected. Dueling Dragons. Fire and Ice. I felt so damn Metal. Rock on.
When we first got to the park, a bongo toupe-leader summoned us to dance through a series of complex whistles. We danced. Foreigners videotaped. We're so awesome. After that, we made a beeline for the Cat in the Hat ride. Air Conditioning, how I love thee. I didn't expect the ride to be so trippy, though. Spinning neon colors, talking fish, countless mechanical hands... For a moment, I was Hunter S. Thompson.
Cody, Stephanie, Heather, and I went on Universal's version of the tea-cup ride. It was great. In line, we could hear the announcer telling each group that they had all defeated the "Evil Magneto," which --through the loudspeakers-- sounded like "Emo Bandito." Before boarding, we calculated that, by turning the car counter-clockwise, we would achieve maximum spinning velocity. As soon as we sat down, we began spinning the car like a bubbling brick of dry ice. Suddenly, the ride started, and our spinning paid-off. Keeping the car in motion became difficult. We all frantically grasped for places on the wheel as we spun, a tangle of arms, fighting each other as our heads slammed into our neighbors' shoulders. When the ride finally came to a stop, our car didn't; and even when our car stopped, we hadn't. Still, we had defeated the Emo Bandito. Things were looking pretty good. We poured ourselves out of the teacup and rejoined Steve and Kristina.
Oh yeah, a quick word of advice. Never ride in the front-row of any roller coaster if there's even the slightest drizzle. The Incredible Hulk felt like we were strapped to chairs in front of a firing squad of gradeschoolers with beebee guns on full-auto. As soon as our car shot out of the barrel, Steve screamed "YEEEAAAAAH! OW! OOOWWW! OW!", Stephanie clenched her eyes shut and laughed hysterically, I kept yelling "Son of a bitch!" and I couldn't hear what Cody did, but I'm sure it followed the same lines. When the ride jerked to a halt, we finally opened our eyes, laughing in pain, and Steve yelled "Fuck! I was just attacked by bees!"
We ate in the Forgotten Land's messhall. I barbarically devoured a turkey leg, because I thought that it would help me remember my days as a viking. It did. All in all, the day was the most enjoyable ritualistic worship I've done in a while. On the way home, Cody and I invited the rest to Thai Thai, but they said that they'd rather nap at Corbin's. It's understandable. We were exhausted.
Cody and I then parted ways with the rest to pay homage with our chopsticks to the foreign gods of sushi, and they, with their pillows, worshipped the pantheon of sleep.
to the end of the universe.
Watch out for bears.
To them, you are spaghetti dinner.
Perfect hair forever.
"Find some things and bring them to mountain,
the mountain which does not exist.
Fulfill your destiny.
Do that thing to that guy.
Play that trick on him.
Pee pee in your coke.
Old Chinese joke.
Perfect hair forever."
It's pretty decent advice when you think about it. I recently made a connection between religion and vice. It gave me an excuse to think instead of clean the kiosk today.
Maybe the reason people smoke, people drink, people play Russian Roulette isn't because they particularly enjoy the activity itself, but by ritualizing it with others, they become part of a greater idea. The cigarette, the bottle, and the gun all become makeshift idols. Objects of power and worship. We're all proving to ourselves that we're all made of the same material because our bad habits treat us all equally.
I suppose, now, though, it isn't just vice. It may be every social activity. Picnicking, clubbing, going to the movies. Why not just eat, dance, and watch movies at home? When I think too much, it ruins life for a little while. Every entertainment center now looks like an altar. Every chair, couch, and carseat: a pew. Everybody is alone, and nobody is.
Yesterday, I made one of the larger pilgrimages to Islands of Adventure with Cody, Kristina, Corbin, Stephanie, Stephen, and Heather. It was great fun, much moreso than I even expected. Dueling Dragons. Fire and Ice. I felt so damn Metal. Rock on.
When we first got to the park, a bongo toupe-leader summoned us to dance through a series of complex whistles. We danced. Foreigners videotaped. We're so awesome. After that, we made a beeline for the Cat in the Hat ride. Air Conditioning, how I love thee. I didn't expect the ride to be so trippy, though. Spinning neon colors, talking fish, countless mechanical hands... For a moment, I was Hunter S. Thompson.
Cody, Stephanie, Heather, and I went on Universal's version of the tea-cup ride. It was great. In line, we could hear the announcer telling each group that they had all defeated the "Evil Magneto," which --through the loudspeakers-- sounded like "Emo Bandito." Before boarding, we calculated that, by turning the car counter-clockwise, we would achieve maximum spinning velocity. As soon as we sat down, we began spinning the car like a bubbling brick of dry ice. Suddenly, the ride started, and our spinning paid-off. Keeping the car in motion became difficult. We all frantically grasped for places on the wheel as we spun, a tangle of arms, fighting each other as our heads slammed into our neighbors' shoulders. When the ride finally came to a stop, our car didn't; and even when our car stopped, we hadn't. Still, we had defeated the Emo Bandito. Things were looking pretty good. We poured ourselves out of the teacup and rejoined Steve and Kristina.
Oh yeah, a quick word of advice. Never ride in the front-row of any roller coaster if there's even the slightest drizzle. The Incredible Hulk felt like we were strapped to chairs in front of a firing squad of gradeschoolers with beebee guns on full-auto. As soon as our car shot out of the barrel, Steve screamed "YEEEAAAAAH! OW! OOOWWW! OW!", Stephanie clenched her eyes shut and laughed hysterically, I kept yelling "Son of a bitch!" and I couldn't hear what Cody did, but I'm sure it followed the same lines. When the ride jerked to a halt, we finally opened our eyes, laughing in pain, and Steve yelled "Fuck! I was just attacked by bees!"
We ate in the Forgotten Land's messhall. I barbarically devoured a turkey leg, because I thought that it would help me remember my days as a viking. It did. All in all, the day was the most enjoyable ritualistic worship I've done in a while. On the way home, Cody and I invited the rest to Thai Thai, but they said that they'd rather nap at Corbin's. It's understandable. We were exhausted.
Cody and I then parted ways with the rest to pay homage with our chopsticks to the foreign gods of sushi, and they, with their pillows, worshipped the pantheon of sleep.