E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Monday, March 18, 2002 I'm very fortunate because when the skin peels off the bottom of my feet lately, if I'm careful, it comes off my heel in one big piece like a beige translucent coaster with fingerprints. It's pretty cool and I've got a whole shoebox full. I especially like how you can look through them and see light. I call them my "sunglasses" and I snuck two into the grocery market the other day by holding them up over my eyes and pretending like it was really bright outside. Do you like to eat bulk potato chips? Leathery beige translucent bulk potato chips? Brian 7:16 PM I flew my pirate flag today. Brian 7:07 PM Sunday, March 17, 2002 I was walking around town late at night one summer evening amongst the bustle of college parties spilled out onto the street when all of a sudden I started to imagine people as SPACE CREATURES instead of people. It worked like this: each [person] became a entity from their own universe. For instance, that woman puking on the corner was from the universe were women just like her puke on corners. And everybody is a perfect specimen of their type of space creature. What I saw didn’t change, but my perception of what I did see changed. Thinking of everybody as space creatures, everybody can be beautiful, each person is a perfect manifestation of who they are. Formerly, when I thought of everybody as “people” that led me naturally to compare them. People look different so a value hierarchy emerged, i.e. this person looks better than that person, etc. With my old paradigm, I didn’t notice the beauty in everybody, just the [people] that looked better on the people looking scale. I’ve found that calling things by different names helps to find the beauty in unanimated things, too. For instance, if you call something a “car” then you automatically register if it’s a crappy car or a good car. Everybody knows what makes a crappy or good car. BUT, if you call your car a “transport,” then that’s something new. No one knows what makes a good transport and it may turn out that if your transport has the feature that makes it so you can see the road down through the floorboards (or, “foot plates”, that could make a pretty cool transport. Also, like, living in a trailer can be freed of it’s societal implications if you call it a “living module.” And a trailer home can be a fleet of living modules, hurtling through space and time. You say you’d never want to live in a trailer park? How about being a pilot in a fleet of living modules? That sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it!? Don’t wear “shoes”, put on some “foot-pants”! Don’t be embarrassed about your “acne”, be proud of your totally rad “puss volcanoes!” The up side of all this is that you find beauty in all things, the down side is that everybody starts making fun of you for dressing weird, wearing a helmet, driving a crappy car with a bunch of tin-foil glued all over it, living in a trailer, burying boxcars full of ketchup, etc. Brian 10:41 PM Saturday, March 16, 2002 I met a nice old lady at the grocery market today. She was standing in front of the muskmelons and I asked to be excused as I reached across in front of her for a canteloupe so that I could practice tattooing on it that evening. The nice old woman thought that I was going to eat the melon (blech!) and so she told me how to tell if one was ripe. This old woman looked as if she was old enough to be somebody’s Grandma. She told me that her Grandma had told her years ago that you could tell a ripe melon by pushing on the butt where the stem was cut off. If the butt gives at all, then the melon is ripe. Although she felt that the melons were soft, she opined that these melons were just plain old. What a nice old lady! Also, she had like thirty bucks, cash, in her purse, so after I grabbed her purse out of her cart and ditched her purse and credit cards in a dumpster I went down to the liquor store and bought a bunch of booze and got fucking drunk as shit. Brian 1:17 AM Friday, March 15, 2002 I’ve got a place where I sit down by the river. Just upstream of the sewage treatment plant outflow culvert there’s this wooded bluff I can sit on. Anyhoo, I was sitting there and this squirrel scampered by. I watched him as he pranced and shuffled through the leaves on the forest floor. Winter is just starting to break here and all of a sudden I realized that Mr. Chippy had made it through the winter. No matter how many mistakes he had made in the past, he had buried enough nuts in good enough spots so that he had survived the winter and triumphed despite the hardships that he had endured. That made him a special squirrel, because he would have just starved had he ran out of nuts, but he didn’t, he made it. Every squirrel in the woods that day was special for being alive and for being there. Humans struggle just like squirrels. Not every person is making it, though. I think people are like Beavers in that respect. Beavers are raised by their parents in the family lodge but at some point get chased out of the lodge and then the young beavers are on their own. It’s tough to be a beaver for the first couple years out of the lodge. Listening to people talk, it always surprises people how tough it is to be on their own. Like when somebody has a toothache or something but doesn’t have any money to go to the dentist and then they realize there’s nothing they can do about it but endure the pain. People think that life shouldn’t be so hard like that, but it is. Anybody who is making it on their own, any beaver that is building their own lodge, no matter how shabby that lodge is, is deserving of respect just for being alive. I wish that people would think about that when they see some guy working a gas station counter with a tattoo of Satan on his forearm. I wish that people wouldn’t be jerks. Satan arm is on his own and making it, and that’s worthy of respect. Brian 12:34 AM Wednesday, March 13, 2002 Llamas fight by spitting bile. When I saw the bile spray in my Llama's fur, I knew right away that there'd been trouble. Brian 10:49 PM

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House of Noh!

Monday, March 18, 2002

I'm very fortunate because when the skin peels off the bottom of my feet lately, if I'm careful, it comes off my heel in one big piece like a beige translucent coaster with fingerprints. It's pretty cool and I've got a whole shoebox full. I especially like how you can look through them and see light. I call them my "sunglasses" and I snuck two into the grocery market the other day by holding them up over my eyes and pretending like it was really bright outside. Do you like to eat bulk potato chips? Leathery beige translucent bulk potato chips?

Brian 7:16 PM

I flew my pirate flag today.

Brian 7:07 PM

Sunday, March 17, 2002

I was walking around town late at night one summer evening amongst the bustle of college parties spilled out onto the street when all of a sudden I started to imagine people as SPACE CREATURES instead of people. It worked like this: each [person] became a entity from their own universe. For instance, that woman puking on the corner was from the universe were women just like her puke on corners. And everybody is a perfect specimen of their type of space creature. What I saw didn’t change, but my perception of what I did see changed. Thinking of everybody as space creatures, everybody can be beautiful, each person is a perfect manifestation of who they are. Formerly, when I thought of everybody as “people” that led me naturally to compare them. People look different so a value hierarchy emerged, i.e. this person looks better than that person, etc. With my old paradigm, I didn’t notice the beauty in everybody, just the [people] that looked better on the people looking scale. I’ve found that calling things by different names helps to find the beauty in unanimated things, too. For instance, if you call something a “car” then you automatically register if it’s a crappy car or a good car. Everybody knows what makes a crappy or good car. BUT, if you call your car a “transport,” then that’s something new. No one knows what makes a good transport and it may turn out that if your transport has the feature that makes it so you can see the road down through the floorboards (or, “foot plates”, that could make a pretty cool transport. Also, like, living in a trailer can be freed of it’s societal implications if you call it a “living module.” And a trailer home can be a fleet of living modules, hurtling through space and time. You say you’d never want to live in a trailer park? How about being a pilot in a fleet of living modules? That sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it!? Don’t wear “shoes”, put on some “foot-pants”! Don’t be embarrassed about your “acne”, be proud of your totally rad “puss volcanoes!” The up side of all this is that you find beauty in all things, the down side is that everybody starts making fun of you for dressing weird, wearing a helmet, driving a crappy car with a bunch of tin-foil glued all over it, living in a trailer, burying boxcars full of ketchup, etc.

Brian 10:41 PM

Saturday, March 16, 2002

I met a nice old lady at the grocery market today. She was standing in front of the muskmelons and I asked to be excused as I reached across in front of her for a canteloupe so that I could practice tattooing on it that evening. The nice old woman thought that I was going to eat the melon (blech!) and so she told me how to tell if one was ripe. This old woman looked as if she was old enough to be somebody’s Grandma. She told me that her Grandma had told her years ago that you could tell a ripe melon by pushing on the butt where the stem was cut off. If the butt gives at all, then the melon is ripe. Although she felt that the melons were soft, she opined that these melons were just plain old. What a nice old lady! Also, she had like thirty bucks, cash, in her purse, so after I grabbed her purse out of her cart and ditched her purse and credit cards in a dumpster I went down to the liquor store and bought a bunch of booze and got fucking drunk as shit.

Brian 1:17 AM

Friday, March 15, 2002

I’ve got a place where I sit down by the river. Just upstream of the sewage treatment plant outflow culvert there’s this wooded bluff I can sit on. Anyhoo, I was sitting there and this squirrel scampered by. I watched him as he pranced and shuffled through the leaves on the forest floor. Winter is just starting to break here and all of a sudden I realized that Mr. Chippy had made it through the winter. No matter how many mistakes he had made in the past, he had buried enough nuts in good enough spots so that he had survived the winter and triumphed despite the hardships that he had endured. That made him a special squirrel, because he would have just starved had he ran out of nuts, but he didn’t, he made it. Every squirrel in the woods that day was special for being alive and for being there. Humans struggle just like squirrels. Not every person is making it, though. I think people are like Beavers in that respect. Beavers are raised by their parents in the family lodge but at some point get chased out of the lodge and then the young beavers are on their own. It’s tough to be a beaver for the first couple years out of the lodge. Listening to people talk, it always surprises people how tough it is to be on their own. Like when somebody has a toothache or something but doesn’t have any money to go to the dentist and then they realize there’s nothing they can do about it but endure the pain. People think that life shouldn’t be so hard like that, but it is. Anybody who is making it on their own, any beaver that is building their own lodge, no matter how shabby that lodge is, is deserving of respect just for being alive. I wish that people would think about that when they see some guy working a gas station counter with a tattoo of Satan on his forearm. I wish that people wouldn’t be jerks. Satan arm is on his own and making it, and that’s worthy of respect.

Brian 12:34 AM

Wednesday, March 13, 2002

Llamas fight by spitting bile. When I saw the bile spray in my Llama's fur, I knew right away that there'd been trouble.

Brian 10:49 PM

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