Pinot Grigio

I have found a true love...he's rich, deep, creatively endowed and motherfuckin' tasty.  If only my men could be so endearing...so adaptable.  I "Get You', you son of a bitch.  You must be none other, for only a bitch would raise someone so inefficient and spineless.  You knew I loved you...for years.  For only our friendship, in its entirety did I worship the fucking ground you tread upon.  Though, I never confessed these fateful words, you knew, and I knew that you knew and still...STILL, nothing came to fruition.  I longed for, nay continue to long for the day that you sweep me up into your arms and caress me with your all.  I scan your facebook page consecutively, for this I despise technology.  I long for a time where actual contact replaced these empty searches...these false creepings.  I am creepy.  I accept it.  I also accept that you have long moved on, and here I am...lost, longing and empty.  No man will ever compare...nor could they, for you are perfection.  I never knew you in a physical sense, perhaps not in an emotional sense either, but somehow you will always be the one.  I understand that in life, you don't always get who you want.  Whomever has hung around the longest, seen you through the worst...etc...that's who you'll end up with.  It has little to do with fate, or passion, or time.  More so with "timing" than anything else.  Breaks my heart really.  Every day.  People always say to me and by people I mean Mom...they say, "You're still young...you have time."  What does that fucking mean?  Time is irrelevant.  Love does not always keep, unless you're lucky...or lesbian.  Times like these, I wish I had a giant joint with a baggy in the freezer.  Ugh, my honesty is disgusting me at this point.  I am grateful.  Don't get me wrong.  However, life equates nothing without love.  God or no God, loneliness...so much space...bigger and bigger.  I lie to myself to keep sane...but these lies...bigger and bigger.  Someday I will be consumed and exist not as Rhandi, but as a black hole formerly known as Rhandi.  Sucking in light, life and time...but a demon in the sack.  Ah, my friend Pinot...gets me every time...

Love Lives of the Camponotus

I have shackled myself to the concept that my life had meaning.  Every action, reaction and especially coincidence had some greater purpose/effect on my reality.  It was as though this incalculable river of mystery ran beneath every thought, driving me towards some pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Like in Ghostbusters 2...the oozing pink sludge running beneath the city of New York...aware and longing to be fed.  Well, we find out that that toxic sludge can be killed with song and that the pot of gold can never be reached, no matter how diligent the chase.  Also, Slimer wouldn't have been around to be a laugh riot and Bob Mckenzies' counterpart, for death comes to us all, Mary Agnes and it does not entail disturbed apparitions who get off on a gorge.  Through some realizations, I am uncovering so many puzzles pertaining to my life thus far.  Such as, if I get hit by a car on my bicyclette and become paralyzed by way of body or brain, it is not written in the stars by some great design.  It was an accident, and now I'm fucked.  I don't like wearing helmets, and my ability to reason out of protecting the old noggin was that God wouldn't let anything atrocious happen to me...and if he did, it would be written as such and suppose to be.  If I see someone I knew in the past in the present in a city of a cool million(other ants bumping around till we all find the dirt), it's simply a happening.  It has no relevance or great bearing to where I am or where I need to be.  My decisions about these ideas have propelled me through life with a sense of being larger and more powerful than the other bugs.  Like I was part of something bigger, secret, and impressively opulent.  I feel smaller now...a sub-atomic particle blinking in and out of existence with no attachments, no giant question to be unearthed.  Finding comfort now in things I use to, sicken me.  I love, love and watching others serendipitously sus out a soul mate warmed my heart.  Now I want to scream, "Hey, you there...you met in a bar, smelled a pheromone you found favorable and fucked.  Your children will be the downfall of society and your hatred for one another will grow exponentially until you both welcome death as a release from his apathetic screwing around, and your nagging unappealing wrinkle puss."  I once believed that there was one person for every one.  As though you were born two halves split apart and destined to rejoin and make each other whole.  Nonsense.  We scramble about, pretending our lives and choices sustain a life of substance...stumble upon someone who doesn't make our skin crawl...the end.  No wonder 51% of marriage ends in divorce.  We lie to ourselves and each other and expect love to blossom, when instead it turns brown and chokes like my peace lily...what the hell is wrong with that thing.  Nothing I do makes it happy.  I guess we need to break up so I can find a new, greener, happier to be with me one.  There, now that's love.

CULT LOGIC

Stephen Hawking has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no God.  Through mathematics, quantum physics and understanding the laws of nature, he has reached a conclusion we've been striving for since the dawn of man.  We are all alone.  There is no higher power, no deeper meaning...just us, the things we do or do not, and the people we love.  I'm not sure how this sits with me presently.  Immediately I was overwhelmed with sadness;  As though this great loss befell me...a death perhaps.  I thought about my past and how so many times I chose a path unbecoming of my motivations because I assumed a benevolent creator would have my back and remedy it all throughout my existence.  Such is not the case.  If their be not a creator of life, than an afterlife is also unrealistic.  So this is it.  We have 80 years or so on a planet thrust out into space and time to grow up, suffer and perish.  This may sound bleak to you but I feel largely liberated.  There is no destiny, no ordained path of choice that leads to an end which leads to a beginning.  I always felt as though I would have an infinite amount of time to accomplish what I needed to be fulfilled on all levels.  Now, once I'm gone, I'll be worm food and nothing more.  No romance, no cumulus nimbi to perch upon, no playing wiffle ball with Grandma while I meet my dad again.  This last revelation hurt my feelings a bit.  Not necessarily because I wouldn't see them again, but that I squandered the time available to me when they were an arms length away.  My grandmas' energy will never be in the form it was when I knew her...she's probably feeding the fish somewhere, and nor will mine.  So I ask, is eighty years enough to do what needs to be done?  If we don't waste it, certainly.  I always thought people who went to church and practiced some form of religion were weak(spiritually and mentally) and now I know for sure.  How ridiculous it seems now to put all hope, dreams, and power into the hands of an omnipotent farce.  I understand that people go through wretched times and perhaps believing in a higher power got them through...but if that fallacy was never put into play thirty thousand years ago(yeah, is anyone else disturbed by the fact that we haven't evolved past neolithic scribblings on cave walls?), what would these empty simpletons cling to?  Each other perhaps?  Or would we all find solace in science?  Knowing that I am the decider, the purveyor of my means to an end...comforts be beyond reproach.  Though my past may be filled with regrets, I can now choose differently.  I can choose.  It's not in the giant hands of some floating fart on a fluffy cloud, but in mine.  If my life goes unfulfilled, baron and cold, well that was my doing and no one elses'.  This is what disturbs me about rehabilitation .  If you want to do drugs, and drink liquor for your time on this planet, super.  You want to alienate those who love you most and destroy your humanity through drink or dope, have at 'er.  If you choose to get clean by means of surrendering yourself to a "higher power", you are severely fucked.  I can't believe you people(addicts and their co-conspirators/counselors) call your selfish excess a "disease" and then with fear driving your gluttony, throw yourself on the mercy of something that never has nor ever will exist to change your patterns of behavior.  All you've done is glamorize being a dick-hole by feeding excuses to those who've generated plenty through delusions and provided them with an easy out when they inevitably fail.  "God, let me down.  God has forsaken me.  God isn't listening."  Well, now you know how your loved ones feel about you.  We all make choices and without God as an excuse for our loathsome behavior, we're forced to look within at how terrible we really are.  Once you sift through that nonsense, maybe the shit underneath will be worth taking a look at.  I "pray" mine is. 

I Will Stab You In Yo Face

Yup, this is gonna be a rough one.  I must expel this negative festering of my soul to you, the multitudes(by that I mean you three people who follow my ravings and incessant rantings), before I am wholly  consumed and turned to an effervescent pile of pungent puke.  It has come to my attention that the majority of the world does not understand what it means to exist in public.  Public means: "Of, concerning, or affecting the community or the people."  It does not pertain to how loud and obnoxious a person can become because the space they are currently inhabiting is substantially larger.  I had a conversation this evening which illustrates the latter:

Bitch in native tongue: "Blahblah blah blahblahblah blah blah blah, at the top of her lungs for five minutes and then proceeded to hand the phone off to her equally annoying husband for five minutes more."  (Note: So I gave them the fucking opportunity to smarten up and move along.)
Me: "Excuse me, could you please take your conversation to another aisle, I can't concentrate with you talking directly behind me."
Bitch:  "It's a PUBLIC PLACE."
Me: "You are exactly correct.  That's why it is so important for you to show the utmost respect for the other people taking part in this PUBLIC PLACE."
Bitch:  "Another language, laughter, than final departure, on her own goddamn time of course."

Yes, a public place is designed for the public.  Living in a city however deems it extremely relevant to be courteous to those that we share this space with.  Cell phones drive me nuts on a regular basis anyhow, but these morons crossed a line.  Arguing the futile point that essentially they can act in the most obscene and manner-less fashion is not a rebuttal to my simple and ethical treatment of their flood of rude.  Being in a public place is exactly the reason to shut the fuck up and treat others with dignity.  I go out of my goddamned way every moment of the day to treat others exceptionally well.  Has the world gone mad?  We claim a universal space as our own, piss all over it, and then expect others to accept our urine as unwavering ownership.  I did not own that area of the store anymore than this couple did.  Nor did I have delusions of where I was or how I was conducting myself.  Why were they confused?  Why did Bitch not immediately apologize and waddle on to another space to piss in?  Instead I received petulance, argument, and aggression all neatly filled in a pee filled balloon and promptly tossed in my face.  Well, I see your pee filled balloon and I raise you a fist with keys lodged between my digits.  More than anything it makes me sad.  Perhaps I should have said nothing and allowed this rudeness to go unanswered.  Perhaps I should have just begun to punch...physical violence always rights the wrong, right?  I feel like the worlds mother in that, so many adults who should know better, simply, do not.  Therefore, I must right the ignorant attitudes of those whose parents kept such knowledge from them.  This is how terribleness begins and I will forever make it my goal in life to end the urination before it starts...

Grass Does Not Need You, To Be Green

We have a great many folly, we the people.  None more so than our tendencies towards gluttony and selfishness.  I believe these two detrimental qualities make excellent bedfellows.  As a result, the butt sex the two have feverishly been partaking in, has created a new breed of awful with an insatiable hunger which permeates our society and makes us look like real dicks...not unlike the butt baby's which possess several oozing beef bayonets...on it's skull.  We waste a lot of resources in the west:  Food, materials, life, time, each other and now it's come to my attention, though under my nose for years, that what we abuse the most may soon be gone forever.  There are people in the world, this world, who do not have water to drink.  They do not have direct access to clean drinking water.  I repeat:  They do NOT have water to drink...let alone water to shower with, wash clothes in, dump down the drain when the temperature does not suit us and most aggravating of all, water to throw on the ground.  We have such an attitude of entitlement that our grass is graced with hours of preening while our resources run thin and most go without.  Is status so essential in our world that our grass must represent fertility and extravagance at the cost of lives and eventual survival?  Do those people who water every day not think about what they throw away on foliage that does not require us to thrive?  Water will run out.  This is not a theory or some happening in the distant future, but an axiom of anxiety.  There are far too many of us to support our need for H2-is-O and the water we do still occupy, we pollute with our other "necessities".  The earth would provide all we would ever need if we only cease to fuck with it.  I think about how much I waste on a daily basis...in the shower, washing the dishes...welcome to my brain of dysfunctional and perhaps irrational worry.  What boggles my mind is how no one else seems to think this way.  Maybe we all have that white picked fence version of how we want the world to be...kids frolicking in the sprinkler while mom sips ice filled pina colladas on the porch while running the washer, the dishwasher and dad sponges off the Cadillac.  Well, we lived that and look where we are now.  Those who go without must think us most ridiculous for we throw our precious life source on weeds to impress our friends and maintain the futility that is our societal (and imaginary) hierarchy of horror.  If the rest of you questioned your actions as often as I do mine, perhaps we wouldn't be up shit creek without water to rinse off the stank.

Honk On Bobo

Please people, try to understand...I am balancing precariously on two slender tires, moving at variable and often intense speeds...racing through confined spaces, competing for room with the immovable force that is a tonne of metal in various shapes, sizes and velocity's...sometimes zooming under poor lit and deafening overpasses.  I am trying not to lose my cool let alone my life when vying for a fraction of the space these gas guzzlers insist on utilizing, so I plead and ask ever so nicely...DO NOT FUCKING HONK YOUR IMMENSELY DISTRACTING AND OVERBEARING HORNS AT ME WHILE ATTEMPTING TO CUT ME OFF AT SPEEDS THAT WOULD ELEVATE MY PANCAKE-ED-NESS(?) TO FULL.  I do not believe I ask for much.  I am not a selfish person (most days).  All I long for is a tiny piece of the road to get from A to B without having the living shit scared from my bowels because you can't bear the thought of waiting 30 seconds for me to move past or fall behind.  Why is the western world in such a hurry?  We eat without savoring, we love without patience, we wish our days away-demanding something ever better, and we drive like the destination is chasing us with fire and brimstone.  I crossed a MARKED crosswalk yesterday.  I was even courteous enough to remove myself from my mode of transport, making my intentions unmistakably clear.  As I crossed the pavement, my ipod came undone from its holster and clamored to the ground.  Instead of waiting the 3.3 seconds it would have taken me to bend down and retrieve it, an SUV demanded it's right to speed on, refused to slow down, narrowly missing me. I jumped to the sidewalk for safety and the cocksucker, self important, environment destroying, oblivious manipulator of metal and fiberglass that outweighed me and my rockin cycle by, oh I don't know, several thousand pounds...proceeded to drive over my device without blinking an eye all the while exclaiming to it's passenger how I shouldn't be on the road.  Where should I be?  Riding the sidewalks gets you a ticket and pedestrians screaming at you to get on the provided bike trails, though exceptional in Calgary, do not get you to the shopping mart or liquor store.  Riding the bustling mean streets could get you killed because cars do not give you the respect nor the space required to safely maneuver the jungle of our "git er done" obsessed existence.  So where does that leave those who refuse to rely on gas operated death machines?  I choose cycling cuz it's great exercise, it's cheap, and I think living in a metropolis with everything in such close proximity negates the apparent necessity of a vehicle...and it's environmental implications, blahblahblah.  Why such little tolerance for those who choose better, smarter?  Does a vehicle give those a sense of value that using your own physical means cannot?  Are we so lazy and swaddled in our demand for efficiency and immediacy that we've forgotten that taking a little longer to get somewhere may serve us in the long run?  Serve us in a capacity that sustains a heart and soul with pride and patience?  We will never be happy if the speed in which we accomplish a task is the only goal set.  Our contentment levels will continue to plunge if beating our last time is the only place where our priorities reside.  Oh, and my ipod did indeed survive the haste of the SUV...this time.

One IS the Loneliest Number

My stupor aside, I have come to one conclusion regarding the human psyche...we are not solitary beings. We, like so many other species, enjoy grouping together. We group, we gripe and we go our separate ways, only to cluster another day. I have spent the last three days completely alone. Not altogether awful, as I have learned to enjoy my own company and the thoughts that most others try to escape from, I have gathered that gatherings are solely based on fear and insecurity. Though I long for the day of instigating my own "get togethers", you people are all full of shit. I anticipated quiet evenings out, making sweet sweet love to my chicken wings and pints of golden glory, but came upon something else indeed: Non-stop chatter of nothing that goes nowhere. Where do the smart people hang? Why is it so difficult to find stimulating and meaningful convo amidst the drunken masses? Therein lies the rub...smart people don't get wasted and speak of little for they have intelligent and stimulating conversations in secluded areas where the dullards aren't likely to tread. Perhaps I am too hard on humanity...or perhaps everyone is not hard enough on themselves. Seriously people, do you have any idea how absurd you sound? I may be all alone at my table scarfing down fried goodness and inhaling hoeegarden like no ever has, but my thoughts about the greatness of my meal are far more interesting to the world than the shit you've come up with. And I'm the single one? Ugh. I am going to get a dog. At least when I speak to him about deeper things his eyes will meet mine and although his understanding may not be all encompassing, he'll get that something more exists than gossip and bitching. Oh, how I long for those puppy eyes of seemingly vacancy yet depth beyond my wildest ramblings. Boys are easy to train in these methods, but they talk back with the nonsense I attempt to abstain from. Perhaps I shall attempt a coup of my brain and just drink it to retardation...then I'll fit in. Do I truly desire acceptance? Or just a partner in crime to ignore the nonsense and exchange knowing looks across a patio table set in the sunshine consumed by beer and chicken wings? Mmmmmm, beer and chicken wings...