Friday, February 26, 2010
A very strange name for a band - but it’s one you are going to remember. And hopefully you remember it the next time you hit up CD Warehouse. When you do, snag Mind Chaos immediately.
And get the disc into your car, mp3 player or whatever media you favour, as soon as possible. Why? Because it’s got bounce. And you need bounce.
Because work gets you down. Going home gets you down. The weather gets you down. Your 1000s of cloying worries get you down. You need something with bounce.
So pop it in and hit play. It’s not complicated music. It’s gonna make you smile …
How long will this last? Maybe 10 – 12 spins? I don’t know. I am not there yet. But I’ll let you know when I get fed up with them.
For now, enjoy.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Passing by the fountain about two weeks ago, a little flash of yellow caught my eye. And being somewhat work averse - it's a condition that I am dealing with - I investigated and found the happiest little rubber ducky that I have ever seen.
Just bobbing along enjoying him/herself in the privacy of its own little atrium. Quality.
Flash forward two weeks and my little ducky friend seems to have found that certain special someone. And I think you will agree that the two looked very happy.
Now, I have no idea who would have placed these little guys in the fountain. But I certainly derived a significant, if questionable and troubling, amount of joy from the whole thing. But something seemed missing. Despite the smiles, sunny dispositions and playful bobbing in the fountain, there seemed to be a hint of sadness in their eyes. A longing.
Ater some careful consideration, it dawned on me. I understood the very thing these two were missing. And I helped them out:
I can only hope that the little family enjoys their time together. After all ... they grow up so fast.
* Edit: A colleague sassed me after the little duck went missing. She chided me for selfishly taking the pictures, but not staying honest. Here's my response:
Ha ha. XXXXX (name withheld) , you are very observant. And you are correct.
The wee one has been removed from the scene. After placing the wee on in the new adoptive family, I spent some time observing their interactions - to ensure a seamless transition. What I observed was very positive. They got along quite well.
However, as time went on, I noted that the doting parents kept moving towards the 'waterfall' portion of the fountain. I cautioned them to steer clear because the wee one lacks the balance necessary to remain stable in the water. It was my fear that, should the family enter the 'turbulent' area, the wee one would suffer an untimely fate.
As the parents could not be convinced to stay in the calm area, I took it upon myself to remove the wee one until a time when it is stable enough to join its new family. As with many adoptions, there are complicated factors that require ongoing consideration. And it is always the welfare of the child that should be kept in mind.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Here's the deal: Hilobrow wants a 250 word story about a troubled superhero. They specifically asked that participants stay away from the traditional caped crusader types.
So I plopped this up:
It’s not murder.
It’s saving lives – protecting the future. You can’t murder someone who never existed.
While the list of marks is getting shorter, the work’s getting harder. I can’t keep histories straight. I struggle to use the ‘right’ memories, to hit the ‘right’ time.
My first cut-back took me to July of 1888. I started with one of history’s obvious monsters. Slipping a sterilizing agent in his parents’ tea saved 60 million from the War.
I changed it all and came back to a better world. I took pride in my work.
But each job meant cutting-forward to a new present. And reconciling the old and the new histories became more and more difficult.
15 marks later and I’m not sure what’s real anymore. Events are muddled. Temporal points are harder to recognize.
I feel the Temp-Reps following me. They have my list of marks. They track my jobs. They know my next target.
They can’t know when, or how, I’ll strike – yet I know they are there. I see them in the corner of my eye but when I look, they’re gone and I start to doubt – it’s all unravelling. It might be paranoia, but I can’t tell anymore.
Before I broke away, they wanted to stop-said we’d done enough, but I can’t quit – I can do more. I can make the world what it is supposed to be. The list has become my life – It’s the only history I have.