Disease Pipe

...No I haven't taken up the tobacco.........though sometimes I wish I would have picked up a pipe, they just smell so good. But like most things, it's just one more thing that's going to kill you. The title actually comes from a disturbin/amusing phonecall (s) I received last night. During KU's route of Texas, somebody called the folks and I's house. "hello" I answered in my usuall friendly and engaging voice.
"Do you have my disease pipe?" A meak and slightly bewildered voice asked.
"Ugh, what?" I asked. "Do do you my disease pipe, I want it back" said the queerish sounding man. "Ummm, do I have your Disease Pipe?" I was sure it was a friend, playing a joke on me. I kept waiting for them to laugh on the other line, but he didn't. "Do you have MY disease pipe", begged the phantom caller. Eventually after trying to laugh them into laughing, I just had to hang up...getting a little too weird, not even like a prank call.
Ten seconds later the phone rings........"Hello" "Do you have my disease pipe? I want it back, give it back to me". This time i just stood there, listening in silence to see if the voice would continue, or whether he would try a new method. "Do you have it in a box?"
"Who is this?" Said me. "Do you have my disease pipe, give it back to me"
"whatever dude" I say......Silence.........It's getting creepy so i hang up.
Fifteen seconds or less it rings........and i say nothing. "Do you have my disease pipe? Hello, are you there? Where have you put it......have you put it in the box....?"
Click......
Ring........
Answering machine comes on............no message......
Ring.............
Dad answers...........silence............"do you have my disease pipe?" Give it back to me, it's mine"....
"What number are you trying to call" says dad in a dadly tone.......
"Give it back to me!"
Click.......
Dad takes the phone off the hook for ten minutes or so........and the phantom creep never calls back.........of course the caller id is a "private number"
It was funny for the first 10 seconds.........then it was kind of a spooky ordeal..........reminds me of the story when Dan Rather got mugged and his assailent would only yell "What's the Frequency Kenneth" over and over.......hence the R.E.M. Song "What's the frequency Kenneth".........
Sure it was just a strange coincedence, but it was by far the strangest incident in the past couple of years (nevermind the time a drunk Indian told me "i was dead" as right out side my house.....that was weird too)....

If you want, close your eyes....

Imagine a man with nothing to say. Imagine a man sitting at his keyboard watching the cursor blink, waiting for action. Imagine a man in a borderline hypnotic state, blinking to the rhythm of the aforementioned cursor. Imagine this man without imagining the song "Imagine" by John Lennon or the recent cover of it by that Tool guy. Imagine this is me...........it could be..........but it isn't............at least not tonight...............it's been me before, and i'll admit to erasing and starting over, even when I didn't know what I was going to say anyway............Oh yah, I've done that...............(imagine me raising my hand as if to answer a question in grade school). But tonight........I type........I don't care that I have nothing funny, deep, spiritual to say.......in fact screw that..I write to fill the pages so to speak. I write the babble because I can, and i have both hands, so I might as well.
Imagine a movie about nothing. Oh, you're thinking of one now are you? Well, you haven't seen it. And it's not a referrence to Adaptation, or to Seinfeld. I'm talking about NOTHING! No plot twists, no character development, no characters, no budget......presto........wait a second............I'VE MADE THIS MOVIE! Yes, that's right folks...........for 9.99..........I will send you my film of nothing!
I don't know why I'm on this Nothing kick.....(please feel free to not comment, I'm not fishing for Comments on this one).............I remind myself the time I convinced my couzin you could major in "Nothing" at Ku....and that I was considering it for my Masters Degree......I explained how, it wasn't a false degree, but it was an actual study of the study's of nothingness...........I was lying, but it was funny. And I guess to a "degree" there probably is something like that somewhere........but hey, it was funny at the time.....so laugh.....okay don't.......that' wasn't funny..............wow, i'm boring myself, no wait.......i'm amusing myself.........sorry to waste your time............go hug your respective kid/wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/friend/kinda friend/more than a friend, but not boyfriend or girlfriend/mother/father/sister/brother/Grandpa/Grandma/Uncle/Aunt/cousin/niece/nephew/neighbor/
in-law/stranger etc..........
and if you really want a challenge, go hug your enemy..........easier said than done..........lata.........

If I leave it untitled.....then it's more vague......

swirling fastidiously
components pale in comparison.
fractions of a second,
reverberations buzzing, echoing.
chasms, nightmares, daydreams.....
teleportations...
singular dissonance,
myopic dillusions of grandeur
ceilings with texture,
territorial rapture.
kinetics, gels that mask the true color of the light.
functions, adaptions of nomenclature
occular sympathy
explorative alienation
agoraphobia,
exclusion plain and simple.
understanding,
together or not
sedentary or active
cerrebrum aglow
per chance

Trims and audible gossip.

"I've always believed that hair, really is a huge part of who a person is" quipped the twenty something next to me at the hair salon, or whatever there called. "I'm in trouble then" I whispered jokingly to Kayla, the girl who was cutting my hair. "What?" she said. "Oh, I was just being nosy, listening to the other people talk" "Oh, it's okay, eveyone in this place does it."
It was hard not too. They were very close, and I wasn't being much of a small talker.
The above quotation about hair, just like most things, probably has some validity to it, but I'm wanting to reject what she's saying. But the irony, of my cluttered life, and cluttered hair, getting trimmed at this moment, won't allow it. Just as the phrase "Clothes, make the man" which i thourghly reject, and despise, to a degree can make sense. Hair,in my defense, actually comes out of a human head though. Clothes just cover nakedness. They aren't connected to the body. I hate that textiles, haphazardly, or lovingly sewn together, can become a statement about me. I don't dig on the fashion industry.

I haven't had anyone cut my hair since september. Except for maybe Ben (mr. long dreads) this would be considered a long time. I don't really like my hair, or any haircut i've had, so I usually just let it grow until it start's getting overly obnoxious.
As I'm sitting in the chair, and the nice lady is trimming my neck, I can't help but notice the girl in the chair next to me is divulging her entire romantic "file" to her "nice lady" who is cutting her hair. I don't think they really know each other. I guess that's just what you do with your sylist. Share, very, very personnel problems. After the employment and "do you have plans this weekend" banter are out of the way, my "stylist" and I engage in a gripping discussion of the comedy of the hit film Anchorman. I think it's better this way for both of us. Stylist's are not psychologists, and there not even your friend most of the time, and yet everytime i'm getting a haircut, deep, agonizing personal stories are being shared mere inches away from me. I guess, for some people, a sylist, or hairdresser will do just as good a job listening as the cliche'd bartender who gets to hear of all humanities tragic, or magnificient love adventures. And I guess that's the point. The sylist will listen, just as this blog site listens to my ramblings in the ghosts of cyberspace. (and no, I'm not referring to you, lovely, humans who read this as ghosts.....you get the picture).

Ice Storms and Futility.

All the cars in the neighborhood are completyly iced in. I spent a good hour or so scraping ice off around the door of the old Mazda trying to get it open, so I could start it, so I could turn the defrost on, so I could get all the ice off before it started raining/snowing again. This whole process seemd quite futile to me. I wasn't really planning on driving anywere today, or tommorow. The parents (mostly mom) thought it was best to get as much ice off as possible while I could. There was only 1/4 inch or so. And another 1" was expected. I thought about arguing the overall concept of scraping off ice, so more ice could cover it up, but I didn't. I just did it this time, even though it seemd to be just a colder version of making one's bed. I used to argue when I was younger that this too was a pointless job, as everynight I ended up kicking off the blankets anyway. (this usually still happens, perhaps I am just a restless soul). I now see the object of making one's bed. Perhaps it's a bit of a spring board to other acts of cleanliness. If my bed is made, I find I am more likely to pick other objects off of the floor, and put them in their respective places. Kind of the same concept as getting up and showering right off the bat, so as to begin a sense of productivness.
Sometimes everything seems futile. No matter what we do to prevent sickness, injury, or financial disasters, the storms come anyway. This morning my Grandather was to have a procedure to remove cancer on his lungs. Whether or not this was directly related to his tobacco intake for 30 or so years was never mentioned. That's not the point. The point is my family; Mom, Dad, me and little sis Molly all gathered this morning in the living to pray for him and Grandma who will, has, and will continue to worry about this and everything else there is to worry about. The fact that we prayed together, for a common reason got me thinking about childhood, and how this was a common thing. Obviosly this has helped shape part of who I am today. There is something to be said to the old saying I've heard in "Christian cirlcles" ""The family that prays together, stays together"". I am well aware of cases, were this isn't necessarily true, but for the most part, I really think it is. Cheesy, as it may sound. I am, though, guilty of sometimes questioning the point of these prayers. Without going into a deep theological discussion of why I sometimes feel that way; I can say that for the most part, almost as soon as the doubt occurs, I come out of it. I really believe that God hears us, even when we (especially me) do not deserve to be listened to at all. Arguing with God can be quite futile. So as my family all sat on the couch and prayed for Grandpa, I felt the voice of theological reason come back to me as if to say. "This isn't futile". "If eveything else you've ever done seems that way, this isn't"
I hope to begin soon, my Satirical Online "Gossip Newspaper" and who's who, and where are they now, or something like that Edition. Stay tuned for random photo's and what not of people, you maybe have seen before, or not. If Molly, will explain the Scanner that it....................Dun dun dun.........

I find myself wishing I had to work tommorow. This has never happenend. I am incredibly bored. This too rarely happens. Even when "nothing" is going on, I can usually entertain myself for hours on end with just about anything. I'm a great pacer, and wanderer. I don't like cats too much, but sometimes I "patrol" the house, and it's inner perimeter's until that feeling comes back where you actually feel like going through with something, anything. Extreme boredom has shown his face many times today. This is the kind of boredom were even the laziest of activities bring no comfort. You don't even feel like watching a movie! This is extreme boredom, and I feel as if it may be contagious. I feel like I may be infecting you this very moment. It's not that i'm an uninspired person, I'm just waiting it out, until the next crest of will peak and I will begin to care about something, anything again. I've mentioned repetition before. Just typing this non-sense could very well begin that spark of motivation.
Oh, if my tape deck voice recorder for car consoles would have been invented by someone more motivated, then perhaps I could be posting all my noble thoughts I think when I'm driving, instead of this drivel......................Hey the fam is home now.....................neat........people.......................