legit post

A writer is a temp-let through which the human experience is interpreted through an individual. Be it fantasy, fiction or even the truth (()_o) through narrative, poem or coherent language, the author reveals more than intended.

or something.
Incidentally, I was not devoured by the ghost of Dave, Grand Specter of Wendy. And I would like to take a moment to reassure the public, of whom I am apart, that there is no cabal of sinister fast food mascots.

    This message approved by the Colonel
  ~~

Music 5/20/11

If there's one thing I'm going to Fuckin' learn before the Void consumes me, it's follow through!
This that attitude in mind, I started this 30days of music goal, and by honey, I'm going to finish it!
Right, so where were we?


day 01 - your favorite song
day 02 - your least favorite song
day 03 - a song that makes you happy
day 04 - a song that makes you sad
day 05 - a song that reminds you of someone
day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere
day 07 - a song that reminds you of a certain event
day 08 - a song that you know all the words to


7 down, like 22 to go. I continue in order for ease, I guess.
A song I know all the words to? Thats a hard one. I can sing along (mostly) with alot of songs, but without prep, I can hardly think of any. the birthday song?
Actually, there is one song that come to mind. I know from me heart. And to prove it, I'm going write the lyrics below without Googling them.

Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggglyyyyyypuff jigglyyyyyyy jiggly puufff jigglypuff.

ima gonna throw this down first

I started today in Des Moines. I saw Ruby off to Germany. She is of on her own adventureyou can check her her Blog @ http://brightorangethread.blogspot.com/

I am going to miss her. But in her absence, I've decided. No, Decreed that I WILL BE PRODUCTIVE!

on the way to home i began a list. A list to organize my daily schedule. I wrote the list as soon as i was home.

Then i decided to drink.
Nothing else got done.
But i did have fun being shit-faced with the cat.

Tomorrow, productivity!

On me

 For now, i have an income. I suppose that's something to be proud of because, recentally, there was threat against my current employment. But all this has got me thinking of things. Things I own, would like to own and my own self.

As I write this I am drunk. Drunk as hell. So take me with liberty when i say I've never been had much attachment fir possessions. I grew up with Buddhist thought. I was given a car by me parents for which has given me much aid and support. yet, it is not in owning the car but the experience of it that I value most.  Recently, however, I've been pulled into enjoying ownership of things. Things around me. Not so much that I care more about the objects. No, rather that people I care about - a person I want around me- has need for items in her life. Specifically, plants. Plants to surround and beautify the area. (one could do worse then have want for beauty and growth.) My upbringings have taunt me the eight-fold path and the four noble truths. of which include the despisement of objectification. I should not want objects not desire  for - make an object out of- a living thing.

Why? I now ask. Why? Don't i deserve something? Don't I deserve things -reward- for my toils? The love and hardships my closest companion express are to create, to grow, to expand and enjoy the fruits of her (or his) hard work. I can't see how that could be a bad thing.

Perhaps I've strayed from the beliefs of my upbringing. Where before I cared not but for others I think of myself, of my own gain and loss.  Where once there was contentment there is, now, distension. I want. I desire. I need. I postulate having and not having. I addition to my growing selfishness is the feeling of ambition. I want recognition for my works. I'm no longer content to do. To work enough to drink and play is no longer enough. I want to express my deepest thoughts and cry My Desires to the sky.

For  those readers not known, the Eight Fold Path is a Buddhist teaching of life. they seek to teach Wisdom, Ethics and philosophy. All towards the attainment of the four noble truths: (which, as follows, should sound familiar to used to evangelical Christianism.) First: there is suffering and it is unavoidable. Second, the origin of your pain is beyond your ability to fix. third, you can cease your pain. The way to stop your pain is to follow the eight fold path. It is hard to turn away from what is/was taught to you. I don't know if it is for better or worse (not a plug for the gawd awful comic)  but i am turning from it. I am embracing ambition, desire and need. I want. I seek and I will attain.

   -Marcus Miranti, Freedman

New.s

So much has happened recently. I'm not sure where to start. first, I got thrown out of a state park. then, I meet a whole new group of people I call "Addies." I got to hang with some old friends and meet some new ones. I enrolled at ISU. (hurray educations)  I got a scanner I'm totally stoked about. Finally, just may, in general has been a fantastic adventure.

Sunday.
 I traveled several hours to Mt Vernon (affectionately: MV) to attend the Sponge Wedding of Kristine Foster (OOO! Shiny) and Lizz "Keps" Kepsel. Anyway, after a wondrous drive through rolling hills where long, tuffed grass frolicked, wind-wavened like ocean waters, I rolled into the Pal around 2:30 and set up camp. It was oppressively hot. So humid that even blood-sucking insects were too tired to feast. Natey found me dropping payment for the well attended campsite (Although why they charge i haven't a clue. From almost every fire ring drifted lazy smoke of forgotten embers. The Wedding went fabulously and the reception got underway.  We started on the great quantity of drink provided. I, too, thought it pertinent to pack pilsner, though, as i found, it was excess. which made the next events harder. When the shelter's reservation ended (about 5 o'clock) Park Ranger Joe-Mama showed up, demanded we vacate. But not before we dumped all our booze for his sadistic pleasure. the bastard. Our Precious precious booze and cut our party short. we had minors (of which i was unaware) so for not getting ticket and fined i s'pose that is fair. NO. Fuck that! It wasn't fair at all! I'm 24! I have a right to carry beer in a cooler in a park that allows alcoholic beverages. I wish I was less compliant.

Later.
because being kicked out of a state park wasn't enough adventure for an evening, I found myself in Iowa City meandering the Ped-Mall. The rows of pedestrian only streets (well, two lined such to form a 'T') fell willingly under the shade of broad leafed trees. I found a spot under one and sipped a delightful sangria provided by Mundo's Saloon. I read The Time Machine in the orange setting sun. all the while sending out thread for further use of my time. I pasted up Jordan (sorry) and Darcy (also sorry) to return to Cornell College campus. I've not been to Cornell in a ages. the specific reasons for my enforced absence is too long to delve into now (though, with some persuasion, I could be encouraged to regale the populous). more to the point, I found Alro along the way to hang out with a group of folks who will be known to me henceforth as "Addies." Much as entire generations have been cataloged with language (e.g. Hippies, Metalheads, ect.) I've labeled another sect.

Addies.
groups of people characterized by others by their corrosive behavior, favor to excess, and constant use of inebriates. I usually shy from heedless categorizations of subcultures. Recently, I've seen the function of label (as abstract and closed-minded they might be). Addies are born of extremity - but this isn't about them. (actually it is, but i want to wait to talk about this class of person). I would dwell longer of this subculture. In living moment to moment is truly liberating in this: there is a bliss in not caring about the next.

At night.
I sat, bent head listening to the spiny clatter of boxes from 2am delivery. It was the elementary school. from it's rooftop, under waning stars we smoked and now we waited. cold dew soaked my clothes. my ears pounded with each new, muttering step of our  blockade. I, for my part, took our siege to use. I wrote to the stars. to my plight. to all i cared to address. Once the milk was unloaded, a sudden shuttering alerted us to freedom. Thought we were unable to loss one of the party members from the chilled roof top, I left a cashe of  blankets for her safety. Though, as i suspected, she was in more than capable hands and was later retrieved.

Home.
I returned exausted and defeated. the loss of 12 hours and 24 units of beer sapped all my enthusiasm. Thankfully, Arlo a great friend of mine accompanied me a short way. The day was bright and the flowers seemed to smile and dance on the springtime breeze. I thanked my benefactors for their aid and comfort and supply but I shall not the company again of Addies. Not for a while. The sun set before me in great orange sky as I pulled into the rock drive of home. there i rested in the arms of equally tired Ruby, who waited patiently my return.

like a fish

Why can't fish float?
Or do they?
time flies doesn't it?
Is it lies?
(time i mean)
Did they say yes?
why do i
(in reply)
speak only no?
Only no.

beir review

I don't usually write reviews.
but i come across this beverage i wanted to share opinions about.
thus, i decided i needed to try.

I love Ciders. Hard , soft, sparkling, apple, pear or whatever, I like the taste of what was once associated with fall - autumn. My favorite hard apple cider is StrongBow, an English import. it is delightfully strong, tart (but not overly) and subtly sweet. However, it often hits hardest in the wallet at about 10$ a sixer. As such, i picked up an apple cider down the cooler awayz that goes simply by "Hardcore."

At first glance, Hardcore is a modest brew. brown nonchalant bottles peeking their black caps over the tall sides supporting the Hardcore logo. Brewed and bottled in Boston by the Boston Brewing Company, the look of Hardcore does it's best to separate from the malted beverages and wine coolers that surround it. it's OK, American guys, just because you like a sweeter beverage, doesn't mean you like cock too.

Alright, enough of the look, what the fuck does it taste like, you ask. Well, i reply slowly, by first impressions Hardcore is not very, well, impressive. My first sips remind me of a thicker (but no less watery) beer like Tecate or Bub Lite. It is not a tart drink. Nor does it leave a surgery sap choking in my maw yet it is playfully fruity. The Appleness creeps like kittens on to you're taste buds. the Boston Brewing co. certainly got something right here. Too often bottled non-beer drinks are like syrup. Hardcore drinks very beer-like. (it's easy to drink a lot of with out sickening sweetness)

However, it loses points for tasting ever slightly like rotten apples. Having grown up in New England, Boston, actually, I'm very familiar with Massachusetts' apples and it's ciders. Late season ciders often suffer this problem and Hardcore does too. perhaps it is slow shelf rotation at Hy-vee or some issues in transit with that in mind, at 5.5% alcohol per bottle, at half a bottle, you don't care so much.

My advice: pour this brew into a glass. Let it breath a bit (i know i sound like a philistine). A Glass! you exclaim with surprise. Yes, you cur, a glass will it warm a little so the cider's flavor can overcome that bitter-crudiness of over-ripe apples. I didn't try Hardcore warm (i enjoy my drinks usually cold) but just a minute in the open and it becomes quite enjoyable.

eat, drink, and enjoy.
-marcus miranti

new and newer

recently i've taken to working by candle light.
i love it!
in addition to adding a certain gothic, pre-1900s sauvignon (savageness) to the atmosphere. it provides a since of time. both contextually and chronographically*. candles burn and flicker with an alarming immediacy when they've lit too long.
i like the chronarch* that a twittling candle provides.
it helps focus me.
regrettably it helps little towards day job prospects.
le sigh.


*also, why isn't this a recognized word?
**i wished i knowed latin better to better spell this word i'd hoped to create.

i've decided to post my thought until i stop...

I LOVe the fact that the name 'Brian' looks like the word 'brain.'

LOL

'the being smiled at Tony's misery. he dangled losely in it's grip. "why?" tony asked with slow breath, "why are you doing this? why not let me die?"
A sad grinace fell over the being as it looked tony over. "because i can't. And i need entertainment." it was not a boast of boredom or spoken with malice. Tony paused his death far from his mind. He watched sadness seep into the great Dragon's smirk.

whoa!

i wonder what 'soft' is like to cats.

death

freedom is:

-nothing to lose
-no attachment

only now can i see the fally of my attachment. for us; for us Americans, attachment is a drug, really. it is something we pay for. something we use. it is not something we tell our selves we could do without. we just assume that fact. for to know, one must ask.

-perception
-only feeling
-thought

only a concept, perhaps, but what are we if we live without philosophy?

-anima
-to be adventurous
-loneliness

people, friends, family, compatriots, camaraderie are but attachments

-a belief fully in the self
-trust of one's being
-trust in belief
-to be free is to be fearless. utterly fearless
-the only way
-to be trustful, trustworthy, trusting
-in a glass

inebriation

-in an action
-in the moment
-in questions
-in exploration


-marcus miranti

Another Week

another 6 drinks and another week flies by!
i'm beginning to think this once a week thing is too far-in-between. it's another great break-through for me: i'm announcing a bi-weekly update and a bonus up, date when ever the fuck i feel like it.
anyways, this is only really exciting to me.
oh... another piece of news (today is sponcered by the word: "another" btw) i reported a while ago that i've got ADD and i've been suprised by the differencing reactions i've had to stimuli as compared to other people effected by the same stimuli. anyways, i'm trying something new: where i replace the methol- group prescription with another stimulate. ...no, not Crystal meth, but coffee. specifically caffeine. it's only been a day but the effects of three cups of coffee were, from my perspective, similar to Ritalin. curious.
i wanna write poem. i'm plan to entitle it "ode to gin" (at least a working title). something for next week perhaps.

(or later tonite)

-marcus

Horray!

i found me a beer that tastes better as it warms, which is good 'cause i just put Ruby, my GF down fer the night. She's had her wisdom teeth pull and is, well, painfully awake, but blistfully unpained. she's an amazing thing that buetiful creature. it takes her forever to get stoned and half a 12er to get tippizy - the bright side being that she can be higher then apollo on oxicodine and still be like normal. I've often thought she'd be a great dealer if she had the will for it. anyway i party myself at soem BIOSHOCK tonight, tho i know i promised writings. sry.

anyway, grammer national socialist leeg (nazi), try an' catch me!

-boo! ya! marcus

time to think

A lingering notion

Time has come for me to admit trepidation. this is the first time is a while I've used my outlets for expression - public expression.I will use this moment to shout cares ,concerns, feelings and what not without a Dam.
I feel lost - alone. I am tried all the time. My mind wonders not freely but in initially distracting ways
Today i drove to Des Monies to deliver my dear companion, Ruby, for her family needs her. Almost as much as she needs distance from them. she is so stabilizing - cooling. But her lack of ambition saps my respect. I often dream; of her. Her a lowly barmaid of sold daughter who is apt yet only desires a good husband and easy life. Courtier fodder or material of the "perfect (17th century) woman." In these haunting i see her desire only what she can grasp. I've seen this woman of prowess working geisha style singing melodiously on-high for the pleasure of brothel patrons when she could move the stars as an earthly siren. I feel worse to see that it is not ignorance (not impotence) of skill but a willful resignation that her sullied performances are the 'best' she can mange.


Enigma

I awake and realize my dreams are not wholly of ruby. I see reflection in each nightmare. Myself.
Wonder if not we are alike - two sinking stones strung together willingly in hopes of buoyancy are we to find only deeper waters? Can I bring myself to bear question? Is it i who built this gilded cage? perhaps if i did not she might fly in my absence. or that i might be cut from my own compliance, as well? I cannot. I cannot. Lest she sink deeper. It is my love; It is my concern for her that is my rock. And i am hers.

Query

Why not can i cut this chain? may hap it is the sheer devotion her for me that moves me day to day? or the light of inspiration that flares when she watches me? or the dampening feelings of insecurity she moves in me? perhaps it's enough to have written this.
someone close will read this and think.



-sorrowfully yours, Marcus

thoughts

Sympathy with the devil is helpful in the it helps one understand their only hell.

People might ask me, if they weren't so scared or bored or ignorant or put-downie why i don't believe in resurrection, heaven, afterlife, or so on. Basically if i believe there to be another life after this, i'd kill myself right now. i don't say that to be witty. I'd give anything to start anew. unfortunately, I am cured with perspective. I, more and more feel that this life might actually be Hell. Some parts of the Christian religion believe that hell is simply life without the present of God. others take a moar literal idea of and burning place of sulphur and torture. either way, the pains of day-today life feel... excruciatingly like torture. yet, everyone else make ease of it all. THATS the worst part, i think. I feel if i saw another struggle as i do, I might feel a mortality to life, but as is, i can't help but feel singularly stupid, bizzare or some other simonims that i can't thing of. preposition.

on the other hand, Everthing i am; everything that I do, i see simbalance in the actions and beings of others. 

Prehaps i'm wrong. lets just say that there's another life to be lived after this one. Be it in hell or otherwise. ...it doesn't matter 'cause i would live with the same ferocity that i live now. the extra life would be a bonus. ...hey i guess thats why they call it that. :)

 

-marucs

2dya

i found a thing
it's awsome.
but it's not realy minre.
it's the sate's 'cause the dumb asses involved don't want it.
...so...
it's mine.
it's a couch. broken, brust andf destroyed, but it's mine.
the only challenge is getting it from poitn A to piont B.

Richard, A frined, has said couch.
I wish to contidute it to the Delt's Viking Daze.
It will become possible.

Viking Daze is a three (two day, concective) event whgere things are burnt and beer is drank and fun is made.

'nuff said,

-amrcsu

p,s. I thing my c0-w0rkers are getting wize to me.
p.s.s richard, stop pretending this is how i act all the time. I'm not an idiot all the time.
... just most of the time.


-marcus.