Desanimania

There’s a few things that get me going in life. Crashing waves, pretty girls, and the imminent future that is the compounding idea of happiness viewed within the conflicting scope of tranquility versus purpose. Really, it’s like an equation. Crashing waves against pretty girls equals an ironic fate- one which is hip and derivative and is a bloody cold steak and drips down my chin and falls to the floor and I see my eyes hiding behind a toothy grin in the red reflection; it’s staring back up towards me with utmost precision. The truth erupts from my chest.

And so I was asked a question

There are almost seven billion people on Earth (and pages of Google suppositions re: how many of those are met in an average lifetime.) In its ongoing growth, technology offers steady and innumerable opportunities for our generation to 'make friends.' That being said; do you feel a large audience/network online can detract from interpersonal communication? Does social networking strengthen the links between individuals and societies - or is it potentially corrosive? (Oh the irony of my e-query.)

The only thing corrosive about this is the acid building up in my stomach as a result of the pent-up stress my body has been dealing with due to the long amount of time it took me to answer.

Krystin, 

As with any forwrd change in interpersonal communication, there will always be Luddites (as, at least in my mind, the only positive changes are a result of increased personal affluence which only seems obtainable via increased technology) and naysayers who hold true the puritanical notion that what once was was heavily better.

Today, I believe we more or less call them hipsters.

Before the internet, we talked on the phone- those where the good old days: when you actually had to hear someone’s voice. Before the phone, we wrote letters- those where the good old days: when you actually had to sit down and put effort into what you wanted to say. Before letters, we actually had to go to the person and tell them what you wanted to say- those where the good old days… I think you get my point.

What I’m saying is that the concept of worthwhile relations seems to be fluid and the idea of genuineness isn’t necessarily concrete. When two people share enough to establish a healthy connection between themselves and that connection grows, there’s your friendship. Maybe it’s not as corporeal as things used to be- maybe we are venturing towards a society where humans live as gaseous states in hyperbolic chambers- but I think the satisfaction that can be achieved via emotional or intellectual solidarity will still strongly exist and will still elicit the same feelings that is always had. 

I hope that helps you out.

With dearest regards,

Blake

What is Sadness?

A glass can be made so that, in the right light and juxtaposed against the right background, it looks as if nothing is there. Imagine one like this; a tumbler, moderately tall with thin sides and a heavy base so that it will not slide and, if clenched tightly enough, would shatter, cutting into whomever was so oppressive. The sides are curved up at the ends like a tulip. It is so clear, the only evidence of it’s existence is the refraction of light, or more tellingly, the refraction of the reflection of light back towards your eyes and if it sits on a granite counter top and you float directly above it looking down, to the dim-witted (or busy or unconcerned), it is invisible. Peering downwards, the stone will seem slightly larger and askew. From a parallel view, whatever is behind it will seem slightly to the left or slightly to the right, depending on how far away you are and at what angle everything seems to be situated. The glass is a portal for which reality passes through, but not without the slightest adjustment. The physical image of a glass isn’t really important, rather I just wanted to establish a shared concept. For now- for us- the glass exists. In my mind, I see an old fountain ink pen hovering above it. The pen is carved from jade or stained ivory and is what I imagine being used by a British expatriated accountant during the infancy of Africa’s colonization. It is more of a relic, but, for whatever reason, it has been dipped into an inkwell and the black dye drawn up into it the way a syringe will steal blood. A single drop of ink rests on the tip and it is very dark and the light creates a reflection on it so it looks like an oily tear. It is a tapered black pearl that precariously sits on the edge, like way I used to sit on the diving board when I was a child, dangling my legs off the edge, fully knowing that it was too high for me but also too proud to come back down, waiting to be saved by my mother. It flirts with the pointed brim, asking to be pushed off, begging for some sort of jiggle or shake to uproot it and send it careening down towards the pool or water below. And then it is. It is shook and it falls, an midnight bullet silently screaming towards the target below: without constraint or purpose, the ink questions existence. When the ink hits the water in the glass below and it’s force breaks the surface and the tension is released, it spreads in all directions, a murky consumption like black fire overtaking a home, like an ever expanding billow of smoke that confines. There seems to be no compromise. Even the smallest bit of ink will turn a much larger body of water black. When it hits, it is vicious and chaotic, spiralling in fractal patterns- a pervasive force that feels compelled to poison all that it can, a villain fueled by the mindless drive to obscure, to control. Once the ink enters the water, it is only seconds before an evidence of purity is erased. There is no evidence of struggle, no record of the internal battle waged. There is only a single glass sitting, filled with abyss. And to me, this is Sadness.

Why doesn't anyone complain about shows like Dr. Who and Sherlock Holmes?

The main characters are men whom are desired for their massive intellect- one that is so unobtainable it must be carried out by a fictional character. How are we supposed to live up to that expectation? You can get plastic surgery to look like the stars, but no amount of studying will allow one to be so insanely smart that they can single-handedly solve crimes or neutralize dangerous situations. The only reason we demonize those who strive to be the most aesthetically pleasing is because those whom are smart enough to figure out that they aren’t the prettiest have manipulated out culture to value what have. Whether it’s beauty or brains, lacking both will cause low self-esteem, and if you’re going to say that a personality or IQ is more important than bust size or abs, at least realize that you’re comparing two attributes that are both (mostly) determined by ones genetic make-up. Why is it that when someone starves their self to be skinny it’s a disease, but neglecting your friends and family for the sake of knowledge is admirable? Looks fade, but so does the mind. In summation: Don’t be a self-righteous jackass by telling someone what they find attractive is the wrong thing to find attractive just because you disagree with them.

Last Minute Halloween Costumes

Halloween is a great holiday. What other day allows the opportunity to dress like a fool and drunkenly wander around public areas? If you are like me, the answer is “everyday!” but because you probably aren’t a 23-year old fledging comedy writer, you mostly likely have vocational obligations and dignity. Even better! Because of that, here is a list of costumes that both get in the Halloween spirit and are simple enough to pull-off with your busy schedule.

1. Last Minute Jesus: Wear your bathrobe and fill a Dasani bottle full of water.

2. Last Minute Cat: Permanent marker whiskers on your face. Lay around on the floor.

3. Last Minute Sexy Cat: Same as “Last Minute Cat” but take your pants off.

4. Last Minute Herman Cain: Bring pizza and go in black face.  Don’t worry about being called a racist because anyone who would call you a racist doesn’t like Herman Cain anyway

5. Last Minute Billy Corgan: Wear a black turtleneck. Grab a hammer and a few pumpkins. Hit them throughout the night. Note: Especially effective if you haven’t seen the sun for three years.

6. Last Minute Hipster: Dress how you normally would + scarf. When people ask who you are, roll your eyes and say, “you wouldn’t get it”.

7. Last Minute Tyler Perry: Say things that make black people laugh. Make sure white people aren’t laughing and that there is a visible look of “Oh my god, am I racist?” concern on their face. Also, frequently leave party and return dressed as a woman. Mention how strange it is that you and Tyler Perry are never seen in the same room.

8. Last Minute Whitney Cummings: When someone makes a statement find something intrinsically wrong with it.  Hopefully you are hot enough where people put up with your constant naysaying.

9. Last Minute Guy Fieri: Stick your head in a bucket of bleach and use wood glue to stick it up to dangerous heights. Wear lots of leather bracelets and a button up shirt, leaving the top two or three open showing a cool vintage T beneath it. Go around eating everyone’s cheeseburgers.

10. Last Minute Steve Harwell (lead singer of Smash Mouth): Read above. 

Brother Blake's Advice: DOOMMATE!

Dear Blake,
My roommate is driving me CRAZY! He never does takes out the trash, and when he takes a shower he does a bad job drying off and there is ALWAYS water on the floor! Sometimes he even comes in at like TWO AM AND WAKES ME UP!!!!! Do you know what it's like walking into a bathroom with a wet floor? It makes me WANT to KILL MYSELF!

Sincerely,
I've got a DOOMmate!

Dear Doommate,

I get this all the time. Unfortunately, given the current economic climate, living within close quarters of another human being is becoming a necessity. So how do we act when sharing an apartment or flat or house or whatever living arrangements you have? The answer is simple- avoid confrontation. I don't mean do things that wouldn't bother your roommate- it's silly to ask someone to make minute changes in their life to appease another- I mean act how you normally would, but when something bothers you bury it deep, deep inside of you and DO NOT let the person in reference let know how you feel. Showing anger is a weakness, and those who are vulnerable will be destroyed. Instead, build up your inner-rage and release it in seemingly unrelated occurrences that keep your roommate on his confused (read "weak"), unaware of what really bothers you.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer".

You know who said that? Sun-Tzu did. And he killed a lot of people. While you are not going to want to murder your room mate, take this advice, because I'm sure if Sun-Tzu had a roommate, that roommate wouldn't be doing careless shit like leaving lights on. Sun-Tzu would probably cut off someone's head if they did that, he would mount the decapitated skull on a pike and and let all those who would move in know that Sun-Tzu cares about the environment, that Sun-Tzu doesn't want to see a high energy bill.

Doommate, you're now probably wondering how you can get back at that jerk you live with, while I cannot give concise examples given wide variance of house-plans, personalities, and work schedules that exist, I'll leave you with some ideas.

1. If your roommate asks you to take the garbage out because it's your turn, don't bring up how it bothers you that he or she never takes the garbage out and how you did it last week and that it smells and your hands always get greasy and you really don't like it- instead take the garbage out and throw it all over the lawn. If they have a car, throw it on their car. When he or she confronts you, you can go two routes. A, either say "Sorry man, you told me to take the garbage out so I took the garbage out- I didn't know you meant 'by the curb'. Jeeze dude, be specific next time" or B, blame animals.

2. I noticed you said he dries off poorly leaving water on the floor. This is going to be especially biting then. Next time you take a shower bring in a few buckets and set them on the floor of the shower. As you bathe let them fill up with water. Try not showering for a few days so your filth and grime collects in them. When you are done, pour them on the floor and walk out. When your roomate confronts you (because he doesn't know the Art of Roommate War), say "Oh, I thought you liked your floor soaking wet, because that's how you always leave it". In this case as well one can benefit from blaming animals.

3. Finally, the coup de grâce of roommate warfare. You said he sometimes comes in late and wake you up- well show that undeserving prick who's boss. In conversation make an off-handed remark about how you heard there were some break-ins down the street- make sure that he doesn't acknowledge it for this will be your seen of destruction. The next time he leaves to "go out with friends" (i.e. do hardcore drugs and wandering obliterated at all hours of the night) wait for him. Be sure you are hiding in the shadows, and in your hands hold some sort of baton or oblong object that can be used for hitting. You might be waiting in the corner of your living room for hours, but it will be worth it, for when he walks in at whatever hour this vagrant of the night chooses to come home, run at him with hellish force and beat him into a submissive pulp! The, to cover your tracks, call the police and tell them that your house just got broken into, and your poor roommate has been attacked.

You get to release your pent-up rage, your filthy roommate get's what he deserves, and everyone is non-the-wiser. You'll probably even be considered a hero.

So, Doommate's it, that advice should help you fix your shared-space woes.

Keep fighting the good fight,
Big Bad Blake

Brother Blake's Advice 2

Dear Blake,

I’m stuck. I’ve in a relationship with my girlfriend for 15 months and the spark is gone. What should I do? I can’t ignore this void between us…

Sincerely, Feeling A Gap.

Dear F.A.G,

Who do you think you are? Relationships aren’t about being happy! They aren’t about “fiery passion”! That spark you felt was nothing more than a combination of a too many Appletinis and some wandering harlot’s hand on the dance floor. You and your lady need to face reality and understand that no sparks exist for long- that’s why they call them sparks. When was the last time you saw a continual spark? A continual spark is called a fire or a lasting explosion. The Sun is a continual spark and, last time I checked, there was only one Sun in the universe, and about 500 trillion other little shit stars that eventually burn out and collapse on themselves and becoming desolate black holes sucking everything into them, tearing apart what is has captured like an octopus devouring its prey.

F.A.G., you don’t need to worry about rediscovering the spark, because most likely it has been permanently extinguished by 14 months and 2 weeks of resentment and pain. Relationships don’t work because the people in them are happy, relationships work because the people in them tolerate each other. They work because the forlorn people in them know that true happiness isn’t possible. Relationships work because the victims of it become so co-dependent upon each other that the thought of living without the emotional version of Total Recall’s Kuato is too

horrifying for their feeble, broken psyche to consider. Dear F.A.G, after 15 months without an attempted suicide, STD, or finding her in bed with your boss, you should consider this woman marriage material. So flush out those silly thoughts of finding your “soul mate” and buy her a nice, moderately priced ring from craigslist. Something that she won’t brag to her friends out, but knowing that she’s only got a few good years left, won’t be stupid enough to turn down. Buy her a ring and ask her to marry you. Once you’ve found your mate you can focus on the stuff that matters- specifically, having 2 shitty kids that hate you, pinching every penny for your nest egg, and eventually retiring to a nice gated community in Tucson, AZ where every other week a bum dies from drinking the community golf courses tainted water supply (that grass isn’t going to keep the weevils away its self, right?). That’s about as good as it gets, F.A.G. So there’s my advice, ignore it at your own risk.

Sincerely,

Blake