Monthly Archives: February 2013

A time and a piece of music…

When I was a teenager, my last grandparent passed away – my mom’s mom – Grandma, and at that time I was heavily into some of the pop metal bands…  Slaughter had this great song, Fly To The Angels.  I wore it out, over and over…  and even though it’s about the “proverbial” “girl”…. It was whatever I wanted it to be.

I stumbled upon these guys from a friend’s Facebook…  Check out Who’s Army.

Music always makes me feel better…  Some people might curl up with their favourite book.

My blankie is always music.

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What is the meaning of life, anyway?

Today’s post is brought to you by:

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Life is pretty random when you think about it. You’re born in a place, to a particular set of parents…and if you’re really lucky you get to be alive for a finite duration of time. You might move around… You might make it through youth, and again, if you’re lucky, you might find someone who finds you appealing enough to want to snuggle up with you, for a long time or just a few minutes… Doesn’t matter. You might find a dozen or just one. You might have some offspring.

You learn some stuff, you make some mistakes, you realize it’s all fucking bullshit and the you really start living because life is too goddamn short not to… Get busy living, or get busy dying… ‘Cause we’re all dying… (And I seriously think we keep ourselves occupied to soften the impact of that revelation)…

Then you make some more mistakes… And sometimes they affect other people… But you never know what the outcome of something will be – good, bad, dunno! Even something seemingly bad at the time can have a good outcome. You just never know.

Along the way you meet people. They help you live shit, or talk about shit, or create shit out of thin air. That’s pretty fucking cool… I mean, my cats don’t do that. My cats want to be mostly left alone and fed when they’re hungry. Some animals and birds make nests and stuff, because they have instincts and need to survive. So do we, but we also get to make things purely for pleasure (or suffering..) because we feel compelled to, or because it pays the bills… Nothing like a deadline or a need to feed to get those creative juices going…

We can make stuff. Out of thin air. Stuff to simply enjoy or destroy…

And honestly, I think that’s the meaning of life. We get to make shit up every day. A poem, a song, a road, a meal, a thank you card. Or…

What is the wildest thing you can imagine…? What if we brought an airplane back 2500 years… Madness! But we did it. The Internet? Crazy? The smartphone… My grandparents, if they were alive, and who mostly raised families with next to nothing, might be disturbed to think of how many hours I spend on this thing, “talking” to people… When I could be “doing” something…

Why do we care so much about things that don’t matter? I’m not sure.

We should be busy living and making good shit.