lucy in lieu
2001-07-22 - 11:27 p.m.
If you tried hard enough, you could find the origin(s) of every thought you�ve ever had. They form effortlessly from accidental events and the effects from other thoughts. Certainly, they can not be said to be your thoughts and yours alone. If anything, the thoughts own you rather than the other way around. The thoughts that you have are the creators of everything that it means to be You. Who knows...they might not even require your mind to exist...they float around in the cluttered areas of the universe; slipping easily from the ear of one human and into the mouth of the next. But the mind is surely a breeding ground, if nothing else; a dark, warm, gooey place for new thoughts to be formed. In essence, we are the creators of our creators. And we are the parasites of the universe, host to the parasites that we call �thoughts� and �ideas�.
Narrator: Today, we�re joining sportscaster Jonny...and look, here he is. Here�s Jonny! Hahaha. (Wel, someone out there thought it was funny.) So, Jonny, what is it you do?
Sir#1, pretending to be a guy named Johny: Well, I�m a sportscaster.
Narrator: That�s wonderful Jonny! So what is it we�ll be covering today, for sport-like activities?
Sir#1: Well, I thought we�d start out with the aerodynamics of Ultimate Frisbee, and then move on to a new ombonation of checkers and jumping rope that�s being played in the southern tip of �
Sir#2, acting as an alien jumping out of Johny�s chest: Rarrr!!*drooly sounds* Rarrr! Hiss!
Narrator: Oh, hello alien.
Alien: Hi, mi nam iz Roger...Mi pe�ple want yu to c�ver WalMart sperts insted...*sticks a secondary head out of his mouth*
Narrator: Wow, how�dya do that, Roge? Okay, WalMart Classic Sports. Here goes...
� tilejumpingtagg: don�t step on the cracks between the tiles on the floor (or you freeze until a non-it tags you). climb on whater you need to to get from carpeted area to carpeted area, trying to tag someone else so that they�ll be �it�.
� carpet toss: just like a european log throw, but with the largest rolled-up carpets you can find.
� bumperchairs/chairracing: find a few friends and a few chairs with wheels. the rest is history.
� alien invasion: fill yourself up on free water. dress up in items from different sections of the store, trying to be the funniest looking alien. the winner is the alien that doesn�t wet it�s pants from laughter.
� blackout: find the breaker box...
� cartsurfing: this activity is intended for even-person parties. one person gets into the cart and stands up, and the second pushes. increase the fun factor by letting go or standing up.
� king kong vs godzilla: one person acts as godzilla, tagging people to prevent them from being able to touch the ceiling. if any king kongs touch the ceiling, that person wins. when a king kong is tagged, they turn into another part of the godzilla (they must stay in contact with other godzillas; hold hands, tie shoelaces together, wear the same shirt, etc). when all the king kongs become godzilla, the game ends.
� firehazard: each person chooses a corner of the store as their home base, and then tries to move as many of the fire-prevention items to their base as possible. items can be stolen from other home base as well. fire-blankets are worth one point, and fire hydrants are worth three. when the cops arrive or everyone is too tired to move, tally up points.
� �penis� variation: each person tries to say �penis� louder than the last. the game ends when someone uses the store�s microphone/broadcast system. rarely, games end with a police megaphone.
� abduction: divide into teams, each capable of picking up a full-sized person. each team attempts to pick up the other teams. If your feet leave the ground, you switch teams.
If a person is found to have (or told they have) schizophrenia, the psychiatrist is required to make a second diagnostic test, to evaluate whether the patient exhibits �negative symptoms�. But you never hear about the �positive symptoms� of schizophrenia...why the crazy people, in a crazy sorta sense, enjoy being crazy, and wouldn�t trade that for the whole crazy world.
�And there�s a whole rack of little buttons, and you pick one, and hope it takes to you Mars...� �Marcy Playground
Mitch is predicted to get a car soon, so I thought that I�d do a little noggin� werk about my own idea car. First of all, it�d have to be electric. None of this up-down gas price shyt. The back seat would face out the back window, to eliminate back-seat drivers and provide open access to the trunk, not to mention the trippy view. With the body of a �73 gremlin and the wheels of a...well, big wheels. On second thought, maybe I�d use the body of a dodge viper (but then I miss out on that whole back-seat thing)...at any rate, I�ll need to find something out about cars first.
McDonald�s napkins, unlike other kin of Nap*, function better as mess-cleaner-uppers than stationary.
My secret to creativity soup, you ask? It�s not a random firing of neurons as some scientists suggest; but a firing of the neurons that exist in the negative spaces. Thinking about something simply because you haven�t thought of it before. Unfortunately, it seems is only the bravest that venture into the unknown crevices of their own minds.
While in the mall a couple days ago, I entertained myselves by making faces at random passers-by. I trust the average person, in an environment such as that, not to get physical enough to be physical, so there�s really no harm. And I pondered why it is that I cannot go anywhere without getting in some sort of trouble (which, of course, made me smile all the more). Several faces turned away, some laughed, a few even made faces back...but the majority just seem confuzzled and pretended not to notice.
It�s not that she�s a badd person, but more that she�s badd in person, the same way that one might say someone is badd in bed.
Michael Parks and Robert Silvers have recently made it into my exclusive definition of �genius� for their contributions to the world of art; once again proving that you don�t have to be dead to be a saint. You just have to act like it on the occasion.
Question#1: A saleswoman-person-thing taps me on the shoulder and asks if I�d like to get any additional information on the metal detectors that I�m looking at. �Nono, just browsing, thank you.� All sales people are truly asking the customer the simple question of �what are you looking for?� Unfortunately, it�s questions phrased like this that blow my mind and leave me drooling...what am I looking for, m�am? Someone to cuddle, someone to talk to, someone to believe, and wrapped in one human-shaped shell; like everyone else...I suspose I�m passively looking for a Purpose, browsing. Splitt-second inspiration. My own little place in the universe. I�m looking for myself. But before I can answer, the salesperson moves on...�and what is it you�re looking for, sir?�
�We�ll have time for coffee-flavoured kisses, and a bit of conversation...� �Monkees
I earned my wings [again] Sunday morning. Dressed in a white robe and cardboard/tinfoil wings, I covered the children�s moment section for a congregation without so much as a single person under the age of fifteen. Armed with a horrid British accent, a cooking pot, and microphone, I informed church meber of the obvious and the all-to-irrelevant. Acting as a guardian angel in church never ceases to convince me that the powers-that-may-not-be do not want me to be a public speaker.
*Nap: The forgotten god of recycled paper. His churches are the paper mills, his bible a blank ream.
