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Who is this grammar convict?
a brief trajectory through timespace
Time waits on no man
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Sep. 5th, 2008 @ 12:30 pm (no subject)
The Millsblog has moved to:

http://recoveringsinner.wordpress.com
syntax villain
Jun. 19th, 2008 @ 11:38 pm whatever it takes
Sons and Daughters Arise.





whatever it takes - we gots to separate
- all these true from the fakes
- this is how we show and prove
- because we ain't got nothin to lose

whatever it takes..
face to face with aggression, de-bolish and molish the opposition
armored to be the stronger and conquer my competition
this ammunition, fills a vision that makes decisions
i told you once before but it's obvious you didn't listen
so listen closely, or next time you wanna quote me
and take my advice, you'd be wise to not approach me
and learn your lesson, hit this class and you're over session
found the test and had no idea with whom you're messin..

whatever it takes...

transformin the mindset, but how quickly do those forget
one hundred miles to run and ain't even broken a sweat
until the death, we won't settle for nothin less
no need to creep you knew we was comin but still you slept
but it's time to rise up was just built up from deep inside
actin like you was down now that leads to a collide
best to recognize, starin at me, because you shook
whatever it takes, is what it took..

.. {whatever it takes} .. [modulated 7x]

this is our house..
and this is where we live..
and ain't nobody..
gonna mess with us, in our house..
this is our house..
(this is our house..)

[chorus]

whatever it takes! - [repeat 5x]

whatever it takes.. whatever it takes..
this is our house..
this is our house!


Ephesians 6:10-18
syntax villain
Jun. 10th, 2008 @ 11:38 am (no subject)
Moths bang against the windows at night, all that Gnashing of teeth and frantic fluttering in the outerdarkness for the want of a humble reading light. As usual the literate insectile mob smash their unperceiving bodies and brains for illumination.

The wild pulse of the earth is only heard in the quiet, Then the tree frogs multiplied chorus collects into an alarm, then the loon mourns the blood moon across the water while a cat at the window smells something moving in the night.

I carry gnarled branches, half decomposed out of the woods for my father, piles of them, the result of tree amputation “unsightly” says he “a real fire hazard”

I’ve crossed a line in the sand somewhere and the beach ahead is riddled with stones (from far away it looked different), all my friends seem far away and I haven’t flashlight code signaled them for a long time- I wonder if the mission is still even on.

There’s water everywhere on the coast- stretches out to the edge of the earth (where you sail into the abyss of white light) waiting for the Lord to finish killing the things that I’ve grown without him- trim off the gnarled decomposing branches-* I suppose is what he would do if I were a tree man and didn't crowd or confuse metaphors in my tree brain
syntax villain
May. 16th, 2008 @ 10:02 pm The rock and roll dream and the Sasquatch
syntax villain
May. 2nd, 2008 @ 11:33 pm (no subject)
syntax villain
Apr. 10th, 2008 @ 03:24 pm retro-technology, the end of history, and ezra rebuilds the temple
history is a vinyl record
and time the needle grooving
in diminishing concentric circles

things spin faster
with Mammon throned atop of
Immersive Unreality Incorporated

The central axis is no end
but the infinite only-ever-moment

tbe dark side of the earth rolls towards the sun to show
the temple ruins sliver-lit at dawn
ezra lifts a dusty foot
'eastward' across the desert
syntax villain
Feb. 23rd, 2008 @ 02:49 pm (no subject)
syntax villain
Feb. 19th, 2008 @ 01:04 pm it's always time for a love revolution
I dig this tune.
the video may be slightly cheese.
But the lyrics be awesome.



Don't need no television
Don't need no movie stars
Don't need no custom private planes
Don't need no politicians
Don't need no stocks and bonds
Don't need no cars or boats or trains

Don't need no diamond jewellery
Don't need no rare cigars
Don't need no magnums of champagne
Don't need no penthouse mansion
Don't need no Paris fashion
Don't need no shiny golden chain

There ain't nothing you can give me
I'm already there
I got love
I got love love
I got love love love

Don't need no plastic surgery
Don't need no country clubs
Don't need no butlers, cooks or maids
DONT NEED NO MARIJUANA
Don't need no ecstasy
Don't need no blow or sleeping aids

Don't need no personal trainer
Don't need no fortune teller
Don't need no job that gets me paid
DON'T NEED NO MORE RELIGION!
Don't need no air condition
Don't need no one to get me laid

There ain't nothing you can give me
I'm already there
I got love
I got love love
I got love love love

Your ways are never ever static
You're always keeping it erratic
I want you to know I'm emphatic
About your love that's enigmatic
You, me and God makes three
My eyes are open I see
Oh baby don't you understand

Don't need no private island
Don't need no chandelier
Don't need no million dollar view
Don't need no helicopter
Don't need no magazine
Don't need nobody else but you

There ain't nothing you can give me
I'm already there
I got love
I got love love
I got love love love

You're all I need
Oh yeah, oh

There ain't nothing you can give me
I'm already there
I got love
I got love love
I got love love love
syntax villain
Feb. 16th, 2008 @ 02:37 am (no subject)
Bono on Anti-poverty movement.

"And it's a wave. I think the next generation is going to roll right over us. There's a new kind of hard-headed idealism out there, which is not about "Let's hold hands and wish away the world's problems." People are ready to change the world one brick at a time. I really believe that."
syntax villain
Feb. 4th, 2008 @ 02:27 am borrowing plant metaphors
the brain is fertile soil,
planting season and then
sunlapse growth
ideas vine out
in leafy twists

Maybe a fully realized pumpkin idea; orange, sturdy and round in the moonlight. chop a jack-o-lantern sculpture
bake a mind-pie.

Or Sometimes planted ideas come to fruition like potatoes. Cool and earthy- good for the chewing on throughout the modern-era potato famine of thought.

The secret is to keep a close watch on who plants in your brain/mind soil.

a careless harvester will allow the most murderous despots to litter their brains with weeds, or spineless critics to scatter birdseed fickleness about.

Little 'yes-men' of self importance sometimes hop the gate in the middle of the night and scatter proud delusion weeds amongst your pumpkin patches.

The proper, real and great gardener has released a book to help you on how to keep the jackals from eating your carrots and soforth,
but! the murderous despot has planted a veritable army of weeds that jabber on about things like
"the great gardeners book being the opiate of the masses or how tough grizzled clear thinking people don't mind letting their brain soil get overrun with the weeds of the despot because thats keeping it real and not using an emotional crutch"

all this to discourage you from heeding the life giving words.

your best best is to uproot the whole unholy host of weeds etc, and read your handbook. (also beware the sunflowers of grandeur or somfin)


syntax villain
Jan. 19th, 2008 @ 12:42 pm an ode to HST
A chair scraped the floor and I snapped awake. Woah man, I thought to myself, Where am I?...Strange people all around me. Bearded and docile in their chairs, eye's red and glazed staring straight ahead. Hell, I thought, what kind of drugs are they feeding these freaks? I must have stumbled into the main nerve of some communist prison. I squinted and tried to recollect how I had arrived here... Had they busted me over the head and dragged me into this horrible dungeon!? Was I waking up from some strange socialist propaganda induced coma?
The room was filled with fluorescent light, the right light to reveal all types of ugliness, these commie bastards must be trying to wear down our strength, I thought, GET a grip man!
My back ached, my mouth was dry and disturbing insectile clicks, grunts and buzzes seemed to be the source of these people's attention.This was no time to make any sudden movements.I slowly turned to see where the catatonic stare of all of these victims was focused.
At the front of the room their was a strangely dressed man, deep furrows in his forehead, pacing back and forth with the movements of someone with great reserve and dignity who had just caught the rabies virus. The creeps gonna start foaming at the mouth any second,I realized. Panic was rising at the base of my spine when a horrible realization dawned upon my mind: the hypnotizing insectile sounds were emanating from this man's mouth! The unrighteous scoundrel was trying to communicate with us! And he had cast some type of preternatural spell over the whole congregation of freaks!

I decided I would observe the creatureman's habits before I made my escape.
It was muttering at an unbelievable rate, the syllables were solemn and maniacal filling the catatonic people with horryfing possibilites "Free health care! Public school funding" The language was unfamiliar but I understood what was happening here.
Then I heard it. Admist the animal clacking of the strangely reserved rabies victim, a single phrase penetrated my mind like ring of a large cathedral bell:"Rene Descartes was wrong". With a sudden rush it all came back to me. I must have dozed off. Terrible dread fell from my shoulders. philosophy class was over.


syntax villain
Jan. 12th, 2008 @ 07:29 pm (no subject)
"So find your quiet space. Lower the lighting and unplug the phone. And for the love of God, turn off the TV. That evil box is the antithesis of inner thought, it is a jabbering knave that never shuts up or listens, it is expressly designed to steal your attention and direct it to its own petty needs. Turn it off or, better yet, throw it out the window"
syntax villain
Dec. 21st, 2007 @ 12:03 am 4 minute warning
the monsters were quiet this season. just a suggestion here or there
wheelie bear took a liking to fine red wine, and, as his friends said behind his back, affected a condescending air.

of course the great jaws of time and death opened beneath the monsters but it was more YAWn than terrifying.





syntax villain
Dec. 14th, 2007 @ 08:58 pm "time is nothing to me" (spirit evokes eternity in decreptitude)
was reading Dylan prose that crackled underfoot


syntax villain
Dec. 9th, 2007 @ 01:40 am smoke and a pancake?
Humans love their cigarettes





There's lots of fun and exciting way's for smokers to learn how stupid they are these days. Cigarette packs feature some pretty avant garde promotional materials from vomit inducing rotting teeth pictures- to helpful information like "cigarettes hurt babies".

Sometime's human non-smokers will do what I call "the condescending cough". I have seen a homosapien some ten meters away from a smoking source begin to dramatize a fake cough, As if the completely dispersed cigarette smoke had offended their unspoilt breathers.

Since smoking has become so bloody unfashionable lately, self-righteous diatribes about the cerebral disfunction of smokers has reached an all time high, consequently smoking in banned area's like dalhousie has become more appealing if only for the satisfaction of invoking judgemental glares.

In all seriousness though, cigarettes are a horrible thing to inflict upon the ol lungs. It's easy to quit if you REALLY want to.

don't smoke the official government-supported dope!

It's also pretty inneffective for people to rant and rave about how unhealthy cigarettes are. Or to quote a list of facts- as if human behavior was dictacted by only hard logic all of a sudden!

here's some hard logic for yah- humans are motivated by pleasure and cigarettes rig dopamine receptors to deliver mild euphoria/relaxation. Death is intangible in a human mind-pleasure is not.

in fact a recent study found 94% of the people who hate smokers are hypocrites who club baby seals, drive a hummer or eat big macs.
cigarettes are not the problem human depravity is.

another study found smoking to be:
12% pretentious
2% badass
80% dumbass
1% awesome

the findings also suggested 34% of people's aunt's used menthol cigarettes to brush their teeth before asking you to "let your auntie give you a kiss on the cheek"

Anyway ridiculing a complex psychological behavior like smoking with a list of fact's is pretty lame. Even more lame is continuuing to smoke as if it's really too hard to quit. It's not if you want it. And there's lots to want like more energy, more breathing, not smelling like an asshole etc.


alas,
Christmas break is a good time to rid thyself of such afflictions.
syntax villain
Nov. 26th, 2007 @ 04:33 pm nothing here at all that could placate my hunger
The mysterious emptiness of winter chill is slinking in. Skeletal branches scraping at the sky in shortening days (will the light,great metaphor for your presence that it is, also abandon us?) strange, flights of anxiety in between awakening and dreaming. Writing like a madman, hoping to find my place in this world of consume and produce.

Not so sure of my revolution, not so sure of any words or the whole ineffable movement of time or history. Not sure of the whole maddened quest for knowledge.

Writing for no particular reason now, just because the light was quiet and the room was empty, coffee smell filled my brain and the urge to re-assure you of how thin is your loneliness, to send some low-humming human thoughts out on the twilight frequencies.

Hungry for words last night-how to muscle into history- how to transcend time-how to outfrenzy the dillentantes-when the most silent intent fell like snowfall upon my hazard brain- the Lord could make me free of fear. The Holy Book tells me the one who is perfected in love feels no fear, no strange wintry rush of ideas slipping into sleep, so here's my life an open book, ready for those piercing eyes of your mercy.
syntax villain
Nov. 25th, 2007 @ 10:59 pm article for Vic college The Strand

Daniel Pinchbeck, The end of the world, and the psychedelic resurgence

The world is going to end in 2012. Oh you didn’t know? Perhaps you haven’t been channeling mythological archetypes while tripping balls on tribal Mescaline in the preternatural wilderness lately, well, either that or you haven’t yet read Daniel Pinchbeck’s latest book “2012: The return of Quetzacoatl”. The nature of the impending apocalypse, according to Pinchbeck, is actually metaphysical. He predicts “a sidereal movement of consciousness returning us to levels of awareness denied and repressed by the materialistic thrust of our current civilization.” Far out man.

With the acceleration of a planetary ecological meltdown, Pinchbeck speculates that it seems “likely the structures currently supporting our civilization, such as the sovereign nation state, will splinter along with the biosphere”. The inevitable institutional collapse and consciousness shift will come to fruition sometime around the winter solstice, December 21’st 2012. Of course all this is predicted, or hinted at with seemingly impressive synchronicity, through the Mayan prophetic calendar, Judeo-Christian scriptures, various astrological myths and other cultural phenomenon- all of which is skillfully culled in Pinchbeck’s mad ambitious masterwork. He finds himself thrust into the center of some supra-conscious hyper-shift akin to the next step in evolution for the human species. It’s hard not to picture Pinchbeck donning a wolverine costume, massive sideburns too, and leading all the X-Men-like mind-freaks to the light. The coming consciousness expansion will induce a creative, spiritual and compassionate transformation of the human entity, empowering us to surmount the chaos and din of the current global climate, which seems to be reaching fever pitch.

What impressed me most about this book was Pinchbeck’s ability to synthesize everything from quantum mechanics and Jung’s psychology to crop circles and biblical prophecies into a singular, shamanic-drug jilted worldview. Although over-quotation from Nietzsche, Jung and a whole host of esteemed intellectuals feels like an attempt to add credibility to his rather bizarre conclusions, I must confess a certain affinity for Pinchbeck. In an age when psychedelia is not particular fashionable in the intellectual community, he has woven together a shockingly well-reasoned manic interpretation of present global phenomenon. Still, the reliance on the use of psychedelics central to his futuristic ideas, which he believes were imparted to him by astral beings or archetypes, is suspect to even the most sympathetic of readers.

A cynical bohemian finding himself bereft of inspiration or purpose wandering the urban desolation of New York City, Pinchbeck began experimenting with psychedelics. “On mushrooms and LSD, the world seemed temporarily renewed, restored to a level of sensorial acuity and openness I last knew as a child”. Like Timothy Leary before him, Pinchbeck seeks to champion the use of mind bending substances as part of centering rituals in a world veering wildly out of orbit.

I’m not entirely supportive of a critical response to the use of hallucinogens which would reduce any cosmic revelation catalyzed by conscious altering drugs solely to a temporary overload of serotonin or amplification of particular neural capacities in the cortex. Such a scientific dismissal of radical, drug fueled theorists like Pinchbeck may very well be accurate on a certain plane, but, this type of rationalistic thinking is reaching beyond its philosophical grasp. The epiphanies from drug use are often simply unveilings of deeply held beliefs or perceptions which have been covered in dust through the mundane conditioning of everyday sensory experience. To deny the often uncomfortable conjectures from psychic exploration is to deny a realm of experience, albeit taboo, upon purely subjective moral grounds without embracing the Platonic possibilities of internal revelation and introspective discovery- whether stoned or sober. From my limited personal experience I interpret my own past use of any psychedelic as risky adolescent indulgence, an immoral substitute for a healthy sense of natural wonder and proper relationship with God. But the scientific process of gaining empirical knowledge should not denigrate other more internalized aspects of gaining insight, regardless of moral objections.

One of the most telling passages in the book has Pinchbeck musing “Had I been preparing myself, without knowing it, to receive the signal from this emphatic archetype? Had I broken though, albeit fleetingly, to a new level of consciousness, receiving “a new covenant” for humanity? Or did overuse of hallucinogens merely distort my judgement, tilting me towards madness? These questions, among others, swarmed around me”

Important questions indeed Mr. Pinchbeck. I personally suspect that the continued use of powerful psychedelics does present certain obstacles to the balanced functioning of the brain with effects akin to developing a delusional messianic importance. This is not to say I find no merit in Pinchbecks writings, indeed they are provocative, timely and intelligent, I see them more as a glowing distillation of multiple sources of knowledge into a disturbingly surreal prophecy, A testament to the psyche’s ability to objectify or rationalize a very particular and personal interpretation of reality.

Pinchbeck has come to be a bit of a torchbearer for the present counterculture, he has earned his place in Beat poet lineage (his mother had a explosive relationship with Kerouac) claiming his inheritance amidst the fringe intellectuals of this century, who championing personal freedom and reeling in the haze of globalization, industrialization and free market ideology, spiral in eloquent, poetic flights towards societal and personal destruction. If there is any merit to Pinchbeck’s timetable we best buckle our mind-belts tight as history accelerates. Regardless of what happens in 2012, we exist in a global climate demanding urgent original and practical thinking. Let’s try it without the drugs this time.
syntax villain
Nov. 22nd, 2007 @ 11:41 am The Lunar Effect
This saturday is a full moon,

If your anything like me when the full moon comes rolling around you will be spreading folklore happily, Claiming everyone goes crazy on the night of the Full moon. Citing some fringe science about the tides, or that official 'study'about traffic accidents you partially just made up..or most emphatically that werewolf you saw once.

The rational skeptics will, no doubt, be rolling their eyes at you by this point-Ready to pounce upon your mythical ideas and score another point for science...but they are wrong.

Does the full moon effect behavior!?
Of course it does! now let me tell you why.

The folklore and legends surrounding the lunar cycle originate from a time before we lived in the modern world and bludgeon'd our circadian rhythm and connection with nature. So anyway, the Lore surrounding the full moon is enough to have a psychological effect on anyone. I don't even have to dip into Jungian exploration of the collective consciousness, its simple, the stories we've heard from policeman, doctors or whatever source about the rise in "incidents' on the full moon is enough to cause an increased awareness and expectation on the night.

NOT TO MENTION the nightsky has become bright with this huge glowing preternatural orb.

also, I suspect the moon does have some subtle physiological effect on us, if from nothing more than the brightness of the night. If I hear people suggesting I'm trapped in childlike response to myth-because there are no studies reflecting empirical behavior changes because of the moon-I think i will just start making convoluted howling noises.

All that science has proved is that their is no MEASUREABLE effect on behavior from their several ridiculous studies like *increase in hockey fights on full moon nights*. The equivalent of this reasoning is to say that Coffee consumption has no effect on behavior because people usually continue to do what they normally would.

Lift your eyes from your microscope and you will see that myth's are form of reality, that stories hold power. And that its fun to believe!
Anywho not to denigrate science too much, just narrow worldviews.

I will leave all you moon howlers with a quote from Neil Young.

"I am a strong believer in the full moon as a good time to sow creative seeds, and I try to plan everything around it. Before there was organized religion, there was the moon. The Indians knew about the moon. Pagans followed the moon. I've followed it for as long as I can remember, and that's just my religion. I'm not a practicing anything, I don't have a book that I have to read. It can be dangerous working in a full moon atmosphere, because if there are things that are going to go wrong, they can really go wrong. But that's great, especially for rock 'n' roll."



syntax villain
Nov. 22nd, 2007 @ 01:22 am speculation
Sifting through ginsbergs stark, sentimental portraits, trying to get at dylan's essence of cool.
preparing.

thinking the counterculture needs to happen again.
this time trading the lsd mindscapes, for brick by brick.
hard headed idealism

‘the world is a mountain of shit: if it’s going to be moved at all, it’s got to be taken by handfuls' ginsberg himself admitted

history shifts again, the realist paradigm disintegrates into an idealist movement- catalysed by catastrophe.

my generation will probably be needed sooner than I realized, the youth and the downtrodden always at the turn of these things.

who knows what awful unified beast of a 'secret one world government' potentialities exist further in the future.

All I feel is tectonic shifts, the imminent rejection of: national self interest translated into agressive militarism; free market economic system (trickle down's not working), ecological rape and materialism (disastrous overconsumption); and the great cheapening of modern artforms.

one question
Where is the new music?

Hoping God gets the glory in the next summer of love or woodstock, when what great approaching creative outburst actually comes to fruiton without being mired in mad sentimentality and faux neon-god-buddhist visions in the heart of the Christ-less night.

bah more on this later....
syntax villain
Nov. 16th, 2007 @ 12:48 pm has the light gone out for you
We all find ourselves pulled toward those things which make us feel important and valuable and driven to ridicule that which made us feel inept.

Given to laud the qualities of those who are affectionate towards us and perceive the flaws in those who make us feel insecure.

Eventually constructing a worldview from the pathological assemblance of all the threads that knit together our ego's. A mismatched rug to wield and smother any differing perspective with.

and then the great Weaver comes down and stitches us apart, lay's bare fools gold thread we had wrapped like a royal robe around our nakedness.


"tired of the smug and lazy culturalist consensus that religious conviction is inherently pathological and dangerous"
syntax villain