the weed bull – a short story

“Let’s order pizza. On me,” Nathan saw the expression on Alex’s face as soon as he opened the door.

      Laura leaped over to the computer.

     “Let’s watch something trippy,” Laura suggested. “Oh, we should call Seth and see what he’s doing.”

     She picked up the phone and Alex was amazed at the speed with which she dialed the number. Although they did have enough practice calling the number.

      Seth said he wasn’t doing anything and would be over as fast as he could climb the two flights of stairs.

      “I found this amazing documentary on the biggest things in space. It’ll blow your mind,” Nathan said as he set up the DivX player.

      The opening of the documentary had a series of quick cuts of flying through space, to entering a Black Hole, to jutting in and out of an asteroid belt.

     Alex felt like he was experiencing all of those things and that he was flying through space at ridiculously intense speeds.

      “This was made for people on drugs,” Alex smiled.

      Laura giggled, “I know.”

      “The Cosmic Web,” the narrator began, “is one of the most mysterious and intriguing features of the Universe. Scientists believe that the Universe is held together by a framework of invisible strings of matter with pockets of void spotted throughout. The web is as big as the universe itself, measuring some 14 billion light years across-“

      The image on the screen began panning out from our planet, out through the solar system, and out through the Milky Way, and then faster and faster it raced to finally encompass the entire Universe.

     It did look like a web.

     There were long threads of matter with nothing in the space between.

      Alex suddenly had a crazy epiphany.

Continue reading


The Gods Are Returning – A Short Story

I didn’t immediately start the journal documenting the nightly visits; but it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. At first, I was confident that the visitor was a character in a dream. Though, after an entire week of nightly visits, I had to accept that I was either completely insane or the visitor really was materializing at the foot of my bed to converse with me. Eventually I did start the journal, but despite my meticulous written accounts of our nightly discourse (I’m a journalist by trade) the evidence would always be expunged the next morning before I could show anyone. I know, I mean, I know that I’d documented my interactions with the visitor. Of this I am completely and unfalteringly confident. Why? Because I, and my editors, know how pedantic my first drafts can be and how frustratingly (for them) meticulous I am at finding the most apt and efficiently articulate words to express the brutish barking of raw thought that screams about the inside of my head. I read somewhere that they’re working on a machine that will decode and download the electrical sparks of pure thought to an external interface. It would be like if you found a song online that you really loved but then, before others could listen, you had to notate the piece onto sheet music by hand and then suddenly having the ability to bypass all of that effort and just plug in your mp3 player and directly downloading the song for playback instead. But anyway, we don’t yet have that tech for brains but it would be very helpful if I did. The way it is now, I have to personally write down my experiences with my nightly visitor. And like I said earlier, I KNOW that I’ve been writing them down but every morning I found the minutes, if you will, of the previous night are erased from the pages of my journal. Even the pen marks on latter pages from the frenzied pressure of my writing are mysteriously smoothed away as though I’d just bought the journal that day. I tried sneakily writing other non-visitor related journal entries into the journal alongside but those stay. They are still intact and unaltered save for the new spacing between entries. And this I find extremely uncomfortable, there are no spaces between entries where the redacted portions should lie. I did start writing them on note pads at work and then hiding them around the apartment, but when I would go back to check, they too were blank. It wasn’t like they were torn or burnt or stolen, they were still there, but all my writing had been dissolved from existence. I started dictating into my voice recorder a few nights ago but when I uploaded them to my laptop the files consisted of lengthy swells of the hiss and crackle of angry static. The visitor doesn’t appear when my girlfriend spends the night. For awhile, she stayed regularly but after three consecutive nights of silence, well relative silence, it made me anxious that I was possibly squandering an incredible opportunity. Even if it was only to discover that I am in fact completely fucking bat shit, off my rocker, straight jacket donned, mouth guard drooling, padded room destined, tinfoil headed insane! I really hope that’s not the case. He, well, I think it’s a he. He looks like a he but I don’t know, maybe he’s a shape shifter and this form is least traumatic for me like that being from Carl Sagan’s book Contact. But yah, he had never told me his name before last night and I’d written it down but this morning, of course, it no longer existed. I think it was something like Ananna or Naner or something. I remember picturing a Banana when he said it but he did say that the name he gave me was his true name but that others have called him many different things over the years. And from what he’s been telling me in his visits it been a pretty significant span of years over which he’s been visiting. < that sounded wrong. I would go back and reword that but fuck it, it’s going to be erased by tomorrow morning anyways, right? Why should I believe that tonight would be any different? So yah, fuck editing. About a week ago he told me that “the Gods are Returning” but that I shouldn’t be afraid. Most of the first visits were spent in terrified silence just staring at the figure in my dark bedroom and listening to him speak to me in an accent unlike anything I could ever articulately describe. Gradually and with timid apprehension, I began to shift the visitors monologue to dialogue. But some of the stuff he told me, Jesus. I mean, I totally understand, if it’s true, why he would erase all the pages. It was this Gods returning business that kinda freaked me out. Tonight I asked him about it again and he kept asking me questions instead. We watched another episode of Full House together. He shares my fascination (arguably a fixation) with the 90s. We actually watched most of the series together already. Has he been visiting me that long? Anyway, last night he actually brought two others and I wasn’t at all prepared for that. The one friend was also male, I guess, and looked like he could’ve been the visitor’s brother. But the other friend was breathtakingly gorgeous. I mean, how can I express this without sounding incredibly clichéd or superficial or whatever. People have been trying to describe the traits of the most “beautiful woman in the world” since there have been women in the world, but this . . . she can’t even be described in words. The three of them told me that this was the last night before the “Return of the Gods”. The beautiful woman expressed to me through a silent exchange that I could feel inside my head that I shouldn’t be afraid. They’re not coming for us. No citizens would be harmed. Their kind had been the former rulers of Earth after they’d colonized the planet, a sort of Planetary Mining operation, looking for mono-nucleic gold that their civilization used partly as a power source and as an ingredient for their secret to longevity. They were the builders of all the Pyramids and the other great Ancient Wonders attributed to early humans. Actually, and the deadpan way the other male visitor explained this to me still chills me even as I’m writing, he said that human beings were actually genetically created cheap labour by mixing their DNA with the an earlier hominid primate. The humans though vastly outnumbered their visiting rulers and an opportunistic ruler betrayed his fellow . . . oh fuck, they never told me what they were just that they were who created us I guess. Maybe I should’ve asked. But I was still reeling from the second male’s nonchalant reaction to having utterly destroyed my entire framework of reality. So yah, this opportunistic . . . one of them . . . decided to incite a human revolt against the visitors and offered them assistance under the condition that he and those visitors of his choosing would stay around the rule in their stead. The betrayer destroyed the hyperspace tunnel connecting Earth to their Home World and so his race was marooned on Earth after the Evil . . . FUCK I should’ve asked what they were called, anyway they were stranded here after the revolt. Outnumbered they hid themselves and their knowledge of the true history of Earth, for centuries popping up here and there when they’re needed and then promptly murdered by those in power. Who according to the three strangers were actually still the betrayer and those of his kind that had aligned themselves with him. All the leaders and the influential people are human beings, yes, but they are all in those positions because they have sworn an allegiance to the Betrayer. That part made a lot of sense in the moment but I don’t know. That’s a lot of people to keep quiet if you’ve conscripted people to appear like they’re controlling things but are actually the middle men. I feel like someone would’ve talked at some point . . . unless they don’t know any of this information and are just “following orders”. I don’t know. But there was more. They said that the Gods are almost here and that they are benevolent and will treat us with kindness and respect. I brought up that slave labour thing and they said it wasn’t slave labour, it was cheap labour. And apparently not the cheap labour we’re used to when the mental image pops into our heads. Apparently the continent of Africa is very different then we’re being led to believe and that if we looked more closely there we’d find more answers but we’re constantly being fed terrifying reasons why we should steer clear of a lot of Africa. But anyway, just before they left they explained the reason it took so long for the Gods to return. Since the hyperspace tunnel was destroyed they had to once again make the journey to Earth the conventional way before they could construct a new hyperspace tunnel to once again reconnect Earth with their home world. Kinda Star Gate-y and at the time I was accepting that as a confirmation that I was actually insane and in a Mental Institution day room somewhere watching an edited for TV version of Star Gate while the other patients around me drooled into straight jackets.

OH HOLY FUCK! Today’s early morning entry was not erased when I came to check! But, I also awoke to fins every piece of electronic equipment in the entire apartment inert and silent. I wonder … if the last journal entry is still here then that means that maybe this one won’t disappear either. I remember something else! I remember the names they gave me before they left. The visitor finally told me his name. He said most people called him Thoth but that his real name was Nannar. Kinda like Banana I guess. Not quite. The guy he came with was named Utu and the [I’m not even going to try and describe how beautiful she was] woman was named Inanna. Holy Fuck!! It didn’t get erased. Now I just have to remember all the other crazy shit he told me during our visits.

research source for my Short Story idea:

Ouroboros – Cylcle One (Novel)

If you’re interested in what the story of my Ouroboros webisode series is going to be like I made the first season (or Cycle One) into novel form.  There will be four Cycles and each Cycle is the same time period, just from the point of view of a different character.  Cycle One revolves around Ava Fields.  Let me know what you think.  




– Cycle One –

Chapter 1


The apartment door opened sending a rush of fresh air down the hallway and into the kitchen where he was sitting; staring forward.

The door creaked lazily closed and Ava Fields entered the kitchen.

“What’s the matter sweetie?” He called to her from the table.

Ava walked over to the kitchen sink and began washing her hands.

Ava sighed.  The bright bubbles sparkled in the dim light. The warm water coaxed the soap from her hands, landing loudly in the metal sink.  The sparkling, red foam circled the drain and finally disappeared beyond the metal grate.  Ava poured more soap into her hands and resumed lathering.

“Is that,” he paused, “blood?”

The thunderous sound of the water landing hard against the metal lulled Ava’s racing thoughts, until she remembered her husband had asked her a question.

“I hit a dog,” she almost couldn’t get the words past her quivering lips.

“When?” He asked, staring forward.

“On the way home.”

“Did you kill it?”


“What do you mean?”

She watched the waves of soap circle and blend with the pink water in the sink before it slipped down the drain, into darkness.

“It was still alive when I got out to check on it, but it was bad,” she paused to lather up her hands again, “Really bad.”

She stood in silence for a few moments, watching the light pink, now nearly all white, bubbles as they swirled around the sink, waiting to be devoured by the drain.

“I’d run over its stomach,” she began, “and its insides were spilling out the hole in his skin.  There wasn’t anything I could do.  I had to kill it!”

“So what’d you do?”

Ava stopped the water and watched the last of the now completely white soap slide down into the drain.  There was still the sparkle of a few bubbles at the edge of the drain and Ava started the water again to make sure they didn’t escape.

“I hit it a couple times with the tire iron in our trunk.”


“Steven!” Ava whipped around to stare at her husband. “That’s awful.”

She noticed her breathing was coming in ragged gasps.  She ripped open her purse and pulled a small pill bottle from the centre compartment.  She downed two pills and chased them with a glass of water.

“I didn’t want to hurt it, but it was already dying and I . . .”

“Did it have any tags on it?  Do you know whose dog it was?”

Ava turns back to face the back of Steven’s head.

“No,” she swallowed. “There were no tags.  He was quite large though.  It was probably an outside dog.  It took me a long time to drag it down to the River.

“You dumped it in the river?”

“What else was I supposed to do?  Leave it there?”

“And you’re sure it didn’t have any tags.”

“Steven, I’m sure,” she tried to calm her rapid breathing and took a few more sips of water. “But I’ll ask around to see if anyone in the building is missing a dog.”
Their dog, Charlie, looked up from his place on the couch.  That was his favourite place; lying on top of the seat cushion with his head dangling slightly over the side.  His big eyes were what did it to Ava.  She began sobbing.

“Hey.  I’m sorry,” Steven consoled from his seat at the kitchen table, still staring forward. “It must’ve been an awful feeling to have to kill that dog.”

“I just kept thinking about Charlie and how I would feel if he were missing and I didn’t know what had happened to him.  Someone’s missing their dog tonight and it’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” his voice was soft and reassuring.  “What was the dog doing without tags or a leash and where were the owners?  It sounds like you hit a stray and if they’re caught by the humane society; a lot of them are euthanized anyway.  It’s not your fault.”

Muffled music began to thud its way through the thin walls of the apartment.  She could feel anger welling up inside her chest.  The dissonant thudding happened quite frequently, and Ava hated it.

“They’re playing that awful music again.”

She wasn’t aware of it, but she was gritting her teeth together so tightly as to be audible.

“Come on, Sweetie. It’s not that bad.”

“And I can smell their incense through the wall.  I bet they only burn those to cover the smell of the pot.”  She walked over to the kitchen wall and gave it two firm raps with bed of her palm. “You’re not fooling anybody!”

“Relax, Ava.  Let’s just go into the other room and watch Leno.”

She exhaled and her body slumped, resting against the kitchen counter. “Yah, okay.”

“I’ll be in right away.”

“Come ‘ere, Charlie.  We’re going to watch Headlines on Leno.  Do you like Headlines?  Yes you do.”

Charlie raised his head in a curious manner, only to lay it back down again, letting it dangle over the edge of the couch.

Chapter 2

      The sound of the thudding dubstep surrounded Seth more completely than the crowd of people sandwiched in around him. Strobe lights flickered and their bodies seemed to move in dislocated, jerky ways along to the poly-rhythms.

Seth closed his eyes, and then realized, he was so stoned that he was closing his eyes in his head.

His eyes shot open and Seth Brock was standing against the wall in Alex Sunderland’s apartment.  They were listening to music while Alex’s roommate Nathan played Dynasty Warriors 4.

Seth closed his eyes again, and he was transported back to the rave. All the people were dancing, and he felt an odd sense of community in that moment.  Of belonging.

      Do I belong in my dreams? The electricity in his brain wondered.

The dancers suddenly stopped and turned to stare at Seth, who was now sitting on a couch in the middle of the dance floor.

They all turned their heads at the same time to a space on the couch, just beside him.  He shifted to see what they were looking at.

It was a dog.

There was a dog sitting on the couch beside him.

The dog opened its mouth but the sound that escaped was not a bark as much as it was a searing pain on the inside of his ears; as though someone were digging their nails into his brain while simultaneously shaking his head from side to side.

“What are you?”

Beneath the dog’s white collar a sentence appeared in white text; and in Helvetica no less.

<<I am nothing, I am everything>>

“What do you want?”

<<Video Games = Porn>>

The dog moved closer to him, and Seth tensed.


<<You are a tiny insignificant nothing>>
The pain returned inside his head.
<<You should kill yourself>>


<<You’re not going to listen to a dog are you?>>

The white text dissolved away and another sentence blurred itself into existence.

<<Cause that would be crazy>>

Alex’s voice jolted him out of his meandering thoughts.  He was back in the apartment. Continue reading

Ouroboros Script – Episode 4

I’m going through my first draft of my upcoming webisode series Ouroboros, and revising it.  I changed a lot of the dialogue and extended a monologue about the Eternal Return.  Please let me know what you think about it.  Alex and Nathan kind of serve as a Greek Chorus in this series.  They describe the concepts dealt with in the series in more conversational terms; kind of reiterating the points.  But yah, here’s Episode 4 of Ouroboros:

**sorry for the formatting. When I bring it into WordPress it messes it all up.




There’s a spark from a match being lit and Alex lights a stick of incense. Nathan is playing Silent Hill 2 and drinking an energy drink as Alex is sitting beside a small table, loading a bowl from a baggy hidden inside an ornate WOODEN CHINESE BOX.  Alex goes to sit on the bed and opens up Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel. He pages through it a bit while Nathan plays the game and then he speaks up.


Are we whole beings?


What do you mean?

(staring ahead, not really paying attention)


Are we whole beings? Or is it our brains that make us who we are?  And it just controls the appendages from a command centre behind our eyes.


Do we have a soul, or do we just think we do because possess the ability to reason abstractly?


I’m not sure.


Maybe, in some long ago point in history, all humans collectively thought: “you know, we should probably believe in some higher power, because otherwise this is all we have, and that’s kind of depressing”.  Maybe the idea of a soul came about as an evolutionary side effect of our developing complex brains that could conceptualize abstract things and we just created this warm and fuzzy idea of something more when really


we’re just animals like all other creatures on Earth.  Maybe in another 5 million years birds will evolve brains that can conceptualize and they’ll have their own bird deity and go to war with other birds who don’t believe in the same bird God.

Alex takes a drag from the pipe and passes it to Nathan.


And I mean, what is consciousness anyway?  Are we just a brain trapped inside a larger inanimate machine made up of a torso, arms, legs and a head that wouldn’t be able to function without the brain?  And what about all of the processes going on inside the body?  Involuntary breathing, the Krebs cycle, blinking, sweat secretion, saliva . . . Jesus, all of these things . . . how are we not aware of them.  And that’s assuming we exist to be aware of those things in the first place!  What if we’re not aware of them because we don’t actually exist?



He’s obviously not paying attention; he’s too absorbed with the video game.


Yesterday I started reading this book on the Eternal Return.




The Eternal Return!  As I understand it, it’s the theory that matter and time is finite and, in a universe, there are finite configurations of matter’s changes in state.  So sooner or later some changes will recur and using that logic, earlier philosophers like the Egyptians, the Mayans, the Aztecs, and the Greeks thought of reality in a cyclical framework.  Oh, check this out . . .

Alex grabs a book from his bookshelf and opens it.


Sir Thomas Browne said: The world was before the Creation, and at an end before it had a beginning; and thus was I dead before I was alive, though my grave be England, my dying place was Paradise, and Eve miscarried of me before she conceived of Cain


(In a “bravo” sort of way)

Woah!  Trippy.


I know!


Although, I often wondered why matter would come back in the same configuration?  Why couldn’t the next time around I be a fish? Or rather than humans, maybe cows become the more evolved life form. And I mean, that could very well be one of the state changes too, I guess.  ‘Cause maybe if given a long enough space of time, we would always come back to the atoms and molecules were are at this moment.

(Long beat)

Nathan is intently playing Silent Hill 2 and doesn’t respond.  Alex puts the book away.


What did you do today?

Nathan burps.


(Says as he burps)


(Beat as he breathes in and at the top of his breath he holds it a moment and then as he breathes out he says:)

I polished off a bag of Doritos.




There’s a muffled KNOCK at the door and Alex looks up from his book.


Do you hear something?

Nathan shakes his head.  There’s a beep as Nathan gets a text and he pulls out his cellphone and checks who is calling.


Seth’s outside.

Alex leaves the room.  Nathan continues playing Silent Hill 2 quietly.

The door opens and Alex and Seth both enter the room. Seth smiles meagerly at Nathan as he sits down on the bed. Seth opens his backpack and pulls out a baggy filled with smaller one gram baggies.


The regular?


Are you okay?

Seth sighs.


I’ve been better.


What happened?


The regular, guys?



(Cautious and slightly unnerved by Seth’s mood.)

Hey, what’s going on?  Is it serious?


It’s nothing.

Nathan pauses his game and turns to face Seth.


Dude, I’m detecting some major negative energy.  Just chill for a bit.  We have some pizza coming


And we were just about to start Waking Life.


I haven’t seen it.


Nathan hasn’t seen it.  And look . . . I just loaded this bowl.

Seth sighs again.


Okay, yah.  Let’s chill.

Seth is still looking very detached and preoccupied.  He’s just staring forward.  They pass around the pipe and each take a hit.


You know, I realized something at work today.


Yah?  What?


Speech is really trippy.


Why is that?


Uh! . . . Because!

(In a way that really means: you should know this.)

Speech is just sounds that we group together and a certain amount of people agree to what the meanings are, which is . . . duh duh duh daaa: language.


Woah!  I never thought of that before.

NOTE: Long pause as the group lets the epicness of that thought sink in.


And that’s why I’ve never understood censorship.  That annoying beep that “apparently” masks the meaning of the fucks or the cunts.  How is fuck fundamentally different then saying fog.  You shape your mouth a little differently. Oooh that’s so horrible. And, if language is just the communication of meaning, then that beep is obscene as well since we know that it must be a naughty word or else why would they censor it? The N-word being a phenomenal example of this.  News anchors say it all the time on the television.  They say N-word and immediately you think it. So they’ve placed that word in your head without having to say it.  How is that any different than saying N-Word.  You can’t say the N-Word, so you say N-Word which has the exact same meaning as the N-Word.   People shouldn’t be offended by words.  Words are sounds people! You choose to let those words have power.  If someone says something with the intent to hurt or maliciously offend you, then that guy is a fucking asshole and isn’t worth your time anyway, ‘cause if you get upset and fly off the handle, he wins.


Huh, interesting.  What do you think, Seth?

Short blips of ANIMA come into the shot.  Close up of her mouth whispering into Seth’s ear and she smiles.




Huh, what?
(He’s pulled out of his thoughts.)

Both Nathan and Alex laugh, but Seth continues to stare forward.  There’s an awkward silence and Alex suggests:


We should probably start the movie, huh?

Anima continues to whisper in Seth’s ear.


Good idea.

Alex grabs the remote and TURNS ON the television.  Alex starts laughing.


Fuck man, I can’t believe you haven’t seen this movie.  It’s trippy as hell.  This movie really changed my mind about a great many things.


Actually wait, before we start I need to talk to you guys about something.  I’ve never told this to anyone, cause I don’t think anyone would believe me.  But, I can see the future.


Fuck off.


No, I’m serious. I mean, I don’t think I’m clairvoyant or psychic or whatever, I think it can be explained, I just . . . I can’t.  I have these dreams that are incredibly vivid but very mundane, like everyday kind of shit happens. I’ll go to work.  I have discussions with customers, my boss will flip out. And then a week later, sometimes only a couple days later, exactly what I dreamed will happen.  And I mean down to the same words in a conversation.  I mean verbatim.  I’ll see customers in my dreams who I know I’ve never met before and then they’ll be in line, I mean right there, in the flesh, in the exact same order they were in my dream.


You do too many drugs buddy.


Come on, Nathan.  I’m pouring my heart out here.  This is really fucking with my head.  At first I think it’s Déjà vu, but that’s remembering something that already happened, right?  I know that there’s no way this could’ve happened before. Yet, I remember it.  But how am I aware of remembering that I already experienced these events before? It’s like some kinda circle. I remember something that hasn’t happened but when it does happen I’m aware that I can feel myself dreaming.  Does that mean I’m a character in an earlier self’s dream? Or, I’ve considered this too, what if there are numerous realities that are all parallel to each other but are disjointed at slightly different spaces in time.  Like tons of lanes on a freeway and the cars are going at different speeds. Maybe I’m picking up information while I’m sleeping from a different lane on the highway.  But that means that we never really make any choices because everything is predetermined.


Well, do you remember this particular conversation?

Alex looks off into nothingness, and sort of sighs.



Seth interrupts Alex.

                              SETH BROCK

What would you do if there were no consequences?


Uh, what do you mean no consequences?


I mean no consequences, or if there were consequences they wouldn’t apply to you.


Hmm.  Probably drop kick my boss.  Throw coffee on some of the customers in Drive-Thru.


Would you kill someone?

Anima is behind him.  She mouths the words along with Seth as he says them.

NOTE: Half two-shot, half close-up of Anima’s mouth saying “someone”)

(Turns to face Alex)


Um, I don’t know.  Probably not.  Even if I could get away with it I don’t think I could ever kill someone.


Yah, me neither.



No?  You’re not at all curious about what it would feel like to snuff out a life.  To touch something alive and breathing one moment and cold and lifeless the next?

For the phrases “snuff out a life” and “cold and lifeless the next” there’s a close up on Anima’s mouth with Seth’s voice over top.


I can’t say that I have.


You’re kidding right?

There’s a slight pause and then Seth’s shudders slightly.  His face turns from a serious scowl to a faint, unnerved smile.


Yah, I’m just fucking with you.

Returns back to his seating position and stare forward.


Um . . . let’s watch the movie.


According to Zhuangzi, I Slow Danced With Taylor Swift And Palled Around With Jon Stewart!

Zhuangzi, the  Chinese Philospher, was very unnerved at a dream he had where he was a butterfly.  The dream was so real that he began to question his own existence.  Was he Zhuangzi dreaming he was a butterfly? Or was he a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi?

If that’s the case … I slow danced with Taylor Swift and palled around with Jon Stewart!

The dream(?) started at a large outdoor stage.  I’m standing off-stage waiting for my turn to go on and perform, though there are lots of performers and I don’t know the order so I’m kind of getting nervous.  I’m trying to find the stage manager to see if I can get a schedule to see when I’m supposed to go on. I guess I looked as though I was frazzled and Jon Stewart pulls me aside and says:

“You don’t know when you’re on either?” He laughs. “I’m Jon.”  He shakes my hand. I introduce myself and we get to talking and I really wish I could remember exactly what we were talking about.  I just remember myself shooting off some really witty quips 😉 cause I’m awesome like that. (or at least in the dream I was awesome like that) :p

Jon ends up having to leave for some reason and I go back to the side of the stage to see if I can find any more information about when I’m on and Taylor Swift is standing before me.  I gather up the courage to introduce myself and we get to talking and she tells me about how her tour is going and that she’s on the last few shows before she gets to take a break.  Suddenly the most beautiful music begins to waft in from the stage.  It’s soft, slightly dischordant, and wholly gorgeous.  I feel compelled to take her hand and pull her close to me.  Her bright eyes flicker with intensity in the dim light filtering in from the stage.  We dance to the haunting music floating in the air around us.  I look deep into her eyes and she stares, smiling, back at me.  It was an absolutely beautiful moment, and according to  Zhuangzi, it may have happened. 🙂

Guerrilla Ontology Special “Reading Week” Episode: Guided Meditation!

Tonight’s radio show will be a guided meditation.  We’ve all had a killer semester so far and our “Reading Week” has seen a lot of us return to the school to do more work.  So tonight I want everyone just to relax, find a comfortable place to sit or lie down, and listen to a guided meditation with Kelly Howell from Brain Sync.  The show starts tonight at 6pm and goes until 7pm on 92.9KICK-FM.

EDIT: The Guided Mediation played tonight can be found on my account, as well as all the other songs played tonight, including Stars of the Lid, Bonobo and of course, Nine Inch Nails.  The mix is called “Nocturne”.