Movements In The Dark (In the key of D minor)(October, 2002)

Insomnia and the Russian Civil War

I didn't get to finish sleeping today.

I was enjoying the strangest dream about Cossacks and the burning of Russia during the Russian Rebellion and the fall of the Czars. I was simply a bystander, watching throngs of people run about yelling of how the people had revolted and Russia would soon be in ashes. They were people running about with signs around their necks that said many different things, none of which I can remember. I do remember that certain people were singled out based on what they had written around their necks and quickly killed by roaming mobs.

And then there were the Cossacks.

They seemed to be doing what they could to control they chaos. Monstrous men that they were, they moved about as they pleased with a form and purpose that the mobs lacked. I remember watching them for some time before finally, one of them (the largest of them all) strode up to me and said quite simply...

"You cannot be here, it is time to wake up."

Now I don't know about you, but when a 250 pound giant of a man in furs and a purpose tells me to wake up I generally oblige. Especially when I can tell he really means it. Especially when he seems convinced that it's crucial you do it.

So I did.

I laid in bed wide awake for a good minute or two before an alarm clock I haven't set in weeks went off to ensure I wouldn't fall back asleep.

So I did what any person would in the situation would do. I got up, went and sat on my patio for 5-10 minutes waiting for something to happen, and when nothing did I came here and wrote it down.

I'm still waiting to find out why the Cossack wanted me awake so badly. Perhaps I will try to go back to sleep (good luck, insomnia and all, leave it to a Cossack to interrupt the first shot at sleep I've gotten in over a week...) and see if I can find him again. Perhaps then he will tell me why I needed to wake up so badly.

Perhaps not.

Silly Cossacks.

Guerrilla Warfare Tactics For Late Night Closet Manoeuvres

There's a monster in your closet. He's waiting. That's what monsters do. They hide in wait until the perfect opportunity presents itself and then they do whatever it is that monsters do. Generally it involves a healthy amount of blood and gore though.

It's not always that way though...

Sometimes if you're quick enough, you can get to the light switch before they pounce. Then, and only then, can you open the closet door and ensure that the monster has been properly banished by the purifying electric glow of your 40W bulb. Tricky business though. Timing is everything. You have to wait long enough in bed with the covers pulled over your head (because they can't get to you if you're completely covered), and then it's a mad dash to the light switch. Have no illusions though, at the same time you're running for the lights, that monster is crossing the bedroom floor at breakneck speed, his only purpose in his monster existence to make certain that you don't make it.

It's a bit of a crap shoot really.

But it's something you have to do eventually. You can't spend your entire life under the covers. Even if you wait until it's morning, at some point you have to sleep. The monsters know that. It's what they bank on. At some point you will need to sleep without the taste of stale air that always collects under the covers. You will need to pull your head into the dark, no longer protected by the blankets, thus making yourself vulnerable. And then it's on.

You'll be getting tired soon.

And there's a monster in your closet.

And he is still waiting for you.

Sleep tight...

There is such a thing as being pushed too far...

I'm sitting in a red room. I have wanted nothing more than to be able to take the time to have this conversation with you. There's a monster in my closet now, and he's had enough. He's coming out soon. Nothing but danger in that. I'm so pleased I finally have both the time and inclination to do this.

I have waited so long for this.

They're pushing me. It never ceases to amaze me how so many people lack the ability to leave well enough alone. It's as if they never expect anyone to push back. Like some magical hand is going to ensure that they can be as difficult and hateful as they choose (for no reasons other than their own perverse amusement or self validation), and yet never have anyone say "enough".

Well, enough is enough.

So the danger begins. That's OK though. There has been a stunning lack of danger of late. Time to let it back in. It's been scratching at the door for a while now.

This will, at the very least, be entertaining. Nothing like a little drama to spice things up. Twill be fun.

For some reason, everytime I type the word "be", the spell checker on my computer gives me hell. Don't know why, I just thought I'd throw that in there.

So it begins. I've had enough. If it's war they want, It's war they'll get. You shouldn't ask for anything other than what you want, so I can only assume they want this. I may be wrong. I may be giving them too much credit. In all likelihood, this is nothing more than a few idle minds looking for entertainment. So be it. We've all (at one point or another) walked in to a movie theatre thinking we're getting Benji, only to discover it's A Nightmare On Elm Street Part 17 that's playing.

Let me take your ticket stubs and please, enjoy the show. Try not to spill your beverages on the floor, as no one likes that sticky feeling on the bottom of their boots as they leave the theatre, and make sure you take any garbage with you and place it in the waste receptacles located just outside the theatre doors.

There's a monster in my closet and he has had enough.

Lock and load kiddies, lock and load.

Rhythm is a dancer

At least that's what they tell me. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I should know better by now. In all honesty I did. I was tempted to stay home last night. Work on this month's reprisal and watch the episode of Gilmore Girls I taped last night. Guilty pleasures, we all have them. Instead, I allowed myself to convince myself to go out for a night of Karaoke and Grasshopper. For those of you that don't know, Grasshopper is a wonderful beer made by a local brewery. I'm not fishing for any form of sponsorship, but damn, a fine beverage it is.

Regardless, I went out. It's now 4:30 in the morning and here I am.

It's a funny thing Karaoke. I've never quite understood what makes people think that just because they like a song they might be able to sing it. Seems they do though. I have to give points for effort, but I can say in all honesty that I heard the absolute worst renditions of "Rhythm is a dancer" and "I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)" imaginable tonight. Myself, I am incapable of attempting to sing a song unless I've sung it in the car at least a dozen times, and know full well that I might be able to pull it off without getting a beer bottle slung at my head.

To digress, I do not currently own a car stereo, so if any police officers out there are looking for an easy way to fill their ticket quota, indeed I do listen to music on headphones, come and get me.

It's an amazing thing though. You take people who more or less would never do anything to embarrass themselves in public, throw a 13 inch TV screen in front of them with a microphone and all semblance of dignity goes right out the window.

Mind you, there are people who can pull it off.

I have no illusions that as a Karaoke star, I'm no two shakes. Sure I can hold the song down and not look like an ass, but when I sing them, it tends to be like radio. You're getting the song right, but it's nothing spectacular. No one really notices.

And then there is my friend Dave.

Dave can not only sing the song right (more or less, it largely depends on the amount of beer he has imbibed), but he puts on one hell of a show. The man did the robot tonight to "safety dance" tonight for god's sakes. It was nothing short of spectacular in the purest sense of the word. The man not only knows all the words, but he actually spells out the letters on the S-A-F-E-T-Y part.

I sang "Name" by the Goo Goo dolls.

Nothing compared to Dave though. He also does a Michael Jackson that simply can't be beat. I made a bad joke about that many times. After all, there was no way to beat it.

Also, I'd just like to say that some people have no business singing Bon Jovi. Most in fact. It's just a bad idea. Kinda like making the decision to procreate. It's a big decision and not everyone is good at it. Don't ever take it lightly.

There really isn't a good heading for this

I've been confused lately. At least that's what they tell me. They might be right. I no longer know. At least I don't think I know. But that just leads back into the confusion.

See, I've tried to convince myself for some time that the decent thing is more often than not the right thing to do. It would seem however, that if you decide to play nice, some people think that it's then perfectly acceptable to walk all over you. Or at least try to.

I may be repeating myself here (in fact, I probably am), but I am sick and tired of people making assumptions. They assume that what they hear is the truth. They assume that what they "know" is true. Well, it's an adage because it's true, but when you assume, you only make an ass out of u and me.

For the record, let me be clear. I am bored of it.

I even filled out the form.

It's official now.

A note on pop stars...

I have, of late, had quite a few discussions on the current state of modern music. People seem (for whatever reason) to feel the need to hear my opinion on what passes for music on the radio these days.

To clarify my opinion...

It doesn't pass as anything.

I was watching TV, a rare occurrence, but it happens now and then, last night when I saw an ad starring a "music icon" hocking a certain nacho chip product. Bill Hicks stated this ten years ago, but let me clarify, once you start selling products or doing ads for some major conglomerate, you are officially off the artistic role call.

Mind you, many people have no business being on that role call these days.

It blows my mind what is being played these days. Sure you could say I'm just bitter because I'm not yet being played on the radio, but the fact of the matter is that 90% of what passes for music these days is nothing more than shallow predictable regurgitated crap. It seems that if you have a reasonably fake set of breasts, make use of the power provided by pro-tools and all the wonderful plug-ins therein, and can pretend to sing (or at the very least lip-sync), you somehow merit being called an artist.

Let me clarify, they're not.

They're simply selling you their bodies, looks and what may or may not pass for talent. Not unlike a hooker.

Music is one of the few powerful means by which to reach people these days. With both note and lyric, you can touch people. I know this because I've seen it. When someone perverts that just to make a buck, hookers are exactly what they are.

Is that clear enough?

I may have left the building, I'm not entirely sure...

So the big CD release was last weekend. I suppose I should say something about that.

So I will.

If you weren't there, you should have been.

A final thought

They say everything happens for a reason.

I simply have yet to know what it is.

So it goes.

(Sorry Kurt)