I Never Sold Out. I Sold Myself In...

Everybody Up!

The Harlot's web has never been thicker. Unfortunately for him, the Beast doesn't even realise he's being played. Ah well, such is the course of things. We follow, mesmerised by falling stars...Yet we're surprised when the blinding flash of impact burns us. But I swear...upon a lexicon of scars...that I will never again be trapped in such a situation. Because sweetest revenge never comes true, but we all want to try new things. I found it funny when I found this photograph. Where is the spite? The narrowed eyes? In all honesty, it was a false image of beauty in black and white. Anywhere else, I wouldn't have recognised it for anything more than another one with concentrated brightness. The smile isn't like mine, though it has changed many times over the years. No quirky configurations or twitchy corners. Was this before she died...from making the best of it?

At this point, the strings melt together to create chords that ring like no other. Gentle vibrations are picked up and slung into the open air. The crisp coolness of it reverberates through the cavity, ripples begin to form with fluidity. History intact in form of Polaroids. Very few have notes scribbled down. At the time, it seemed pointless to explain the setting...the emotion supposedly conveyed was going to tell all that needed telling. Or so they thought. Pictures and memories are all that's left...and those are few and far between. Most often pushed into corners of the room and mind.

As if to supply the irony that the world feeds on, some proof of life...nothing survives. Anger like amber turned fossil...Golden and perfectly preserved, yet slipped away ontop of some shelf as if to be displayed for the passerby. It makes quite the conversation piece. Perhaps it's the way it tosses the light. Were we ever, truthfully alive? It felt like it, but perhaps it was nothing but elation for revived emotion. I'll never be able to tell you for sure.

It's so cold...inside the surgeon's house tonight. It's enjoyable, yet I can't help but wonder. Haven't we got someplace else to be? I take a look around and I realise that I'm essentially stuck where I am now. Never have I felt so well policed. Why should I be anything but pleased...Sit Down.

Call it love with a new face. I don't care what you do...You can name it Joey for all I care. Because we're all headed West, whatever we think we believe. And now the best I can be is the peace that I don't want to see. But it's not that I have much of a choice in the matter. Civility is a curse...I'm considering forgetting all about it. Call it the Election-Night Special.

Just remember. The hardest part about opening up to someone is putting so much power in their hands...Chances are they'll use it against you someday.

(C) 2006. SEASE Productions. All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.

Yesterday...

All my troubles seemed so far away...Hah. I wish.

Funny how it all works. You see guys walking around wearing shirts that read "Get Rich Or Die Tryin'!"...Yet I almost guarantee you that 95% of them would beg for their life if you held a knife to their throats. Why should I be anything but pleased? Sit down. It's not as if I plan to try it. No need to get worked up! Put the phone down...911 would not be pleased to hear that you're calling to report a blog rant that was misconceived as a threat, okay?

Then we have the majority of people who simply ignore it because they are afraid. They don't like to face the facts, so they don't think about it. So when something happens to a person they know...especially a loved one, they're absolutely stricken with grief. It consumes them, and for a while they grieve. With the passing of time, of course, things get better and life goes on.

On the flip side of that, there are those who view it as peaceful. They don't dwell on it, but when it eventually becomes their reality...it's not a struggle. They appreciate it for what it is, and therefore have no problems.

Still others of us are all to familiar with it. We barely let it affect us, and have problems reconciling that. People expect us to be overwhelmed with grief or overly emotional...yet we do the opposite. We push through, fighting our consciences the whole way. Bland faces and blank expressions is the closest we get to showing things of such matters. Often plagued by nightmares and haunting visions, we don't always get much sleep. No, we're not going gothic, so you religious assholes can shut your traps. What? Emo?! Don't make me laugh...I wear black because it appeals to me. Not because it matches my tight-knit purple and black striped sweater.

So what if my girlfriend wears dark makeup sometimes and wears sunglasses in school? What does her being Wiccan have to do with it? You're saying that she's heartless and crazy? Well...she might be crazy, but those sunglasses are to keep her from getting headaches from your god damned fluorescent lights...not because she has freaky contacts or something. (Even if she'd look hott with red eyes...)

Okay, so we all handle it differently. Don't like it? I see. Well I'm sorry to hear that. We're not all perfectly innocent, sheltered and protected little angels, so we're allowed to vary our ideals. That's my opinion and it's very, very true.

What do you mean you think I'm conceited? Oh? I guess I'm the asshole here. Last time I checked, it was a free country...so unless Canada has recently released some unknown Patriot Act, you can suck it up.

Which kind are you? Which kind should you be? NO! I AM NOT CORRUPTING THE YOUTH!! Arrrrrgggggghhhhhh...Go away!







That's right...RUN!




Thank you.

(C) 2006. SEASE Productions. All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

To all my readers...the few I have left...Thank you for sticking with me. I know it's bland...but I'm trying to churn things out as best as I can. Mr. Maroney isn't around to inspire me...he ditched us and scampered off to W.P. Wagner. Jerk...

But a happy Canadian Thanksgiving to all! (Even you, Maroney...)

(C) 2006. SEASE Productions. (What are you thankful for?) All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.

Famous Monsters Part 7: Revenge Of The Creature

Innocence is a condition which only exists in retrospect. It can't be appreciated, confirmed or committed to while one is in its state. The state's got it right -- one can only be guilty or not guilty. No one is innocent, at least when the time comes to go on record.

The coating of innocence sheds like so many pleas tape recorded and rendered under the fingers of court stenographers. Indeed, all innocence is limited. Kids get no passes. Tragedies affect and leave their effects. And kid, there just ain't no pass.

Creatures crawl forth babbling doctrines of terror and horror supposing they are less than guilty. Victims vilify themselves as soon as their victory is viewed as vengeance. But when you create a creature you have to feed it or run the risk of it eating you.

Trying to keep from being imprisoned by our creatures and inventions is hazardous duty. They become our definitions. The world only sees the baggage behind us -- creatures, inventions, addictions, police records. There is no greater curse than never being able to be who we are.

So we battle the creatures and fight from being eaten. Some of us don't make it past the first round -- others move on to exhibit scars and patch up wounds. The wounds are our uniqueness and our spirit finds an opening in the brokenness.

Conflict is the sound of life happening. These battles must go on. Action has to take place. Eventually the universe gives up on people who don't take action. It stops sending you its gifts.

You can't have full-time goals and take part-time actions. Otherwise, your creature will just fester in a dark place and become a dream that won't go away. The world may wish to deny your creature but the universe refuses to let it go.

At some point we awaken and realize all that we can be and all that is holding us down and perhaps at that point we come to recognize the beauty of innocence.

(C) 2006 Buford Industries/SEASE Productions. (Thanks StockCap!) All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.

Tuning/Cello 4th String. Johann-Sebastien Bach: Suiten Fur Violoncello. Solo Nr. 1 (G-Dur BWV 1007) 1. Vorspier. "Death & ReBirth" Chapter 3: Overture. SEELE 2 (Sound Only) Sie Hast Nicht Gehirn...Or so they say.