Archive for June, 2010

no worries dear listener

the show has not started, so if the ruckus you hear sounds wavering or messed up. No worries dear listener I am just tuning up

updated*****

and to calm the minds of those who are not yet sure still sitting top of the see through and invisible fence, to be clear and give you fact of the earthly world that you do understand, hear is a question along with the most popular answers along with the correct (proven to be true in your world over and over again:never wavering)

Which pot of water contains liquid that is the  hottest? (highest value of the instantaneous level of heat expressed in degrees Celsius) (heat here given the definition of energy or the instantaneous velocity of the H2O molecules)

A) the pot of water that is just beginning to boil

B) the pot of water that IS NOW boiling

C) the pot of water vigorously boiling and turning water from liquid phase to gas at the highest reaction rate

D) all three pots are exactly the same temperature, none of the pots is hottest by definition of ending morphemes in reference to heat as energy which are: hot/hotter/hottest

answer: D) is correct for the question asked, but I would consider it a wise thought that while a philosopher may very well be correct in getting the masses to believe that there is no difference between the three pots, this is ONLY in respect to temperature. Yet the three pots are all doing very different things, the answer is all pots are the same temperature, but they are the same ONLY in temperature, it would seem pretty easy from my view to understand how the pots activity could be viewed as being VERY different so I would say that this view is NOT circular logic spinning a web of confusion, but nobody is forced to take or accept my point of view, and all honest points are respected by me, dustywho.

Silver visits everyone

silver visits everyone was my declaration.

when I was a young child and fractured my skull in a bicycle wreck I was living in Southern California on a street named America Way. This street bisected another street at the top of a very steep hill. The very hill i wrecked (the wreck I cracked my skull) riding down this hill “no hands” with my hands up in the air. This streets name was/is Declaration and I will not make the same mistake twice. This time I hold onto the handle bars always keeping one hand on the iron rod at all times.

My Avatar is a painting of the house on America Way off of Declaration, Woodland Hills, CA.

My life has been somewhat eventful at times

very eventful

and it pisses me off, pisses me off something awful (this is not directed at anybody because really when it comes down to it I hope none of you are that bad) when it really comes down to it I am responsible for not walking away, and I can only hope you did all that you did because you don’t know me.

I wish my head reached a point where any new thought kept meant letting go of another, because then I wouldn’t have my brain pinged for shit I don’t feel like remembering. Because I honestly don’t think the human brain has a limit to what it can retain.

Damn near infinite when it’s folded up efficiently.

There are very few things that I cannot recall, if I really tried.

when I say things I mean everything, words, letters, smells, sights, tones, heat, cold, images, even feelings.

The most common white lie I tell is “I can’t remember” Because while many times I am not actually sitting on the answer you are looking for, but  it can be a pain in the ass to retrieve it. Another point I should make is that if I cannot recall the memory that is stored within a quick 3o seconds to at most a couple of minutes, then it is almost for certain that memory will NOT come out “cleanly”

and by that I mean I have to pull out a handful of memories and sometimes two or three shitloads. And then it is not worth it to me, because every single little detail (some ugly as hell and some beautifully symmetrical and clean) every single speck of memory has to go back Cause you can be God Damned Mother Fucking Sure I am not going top be one of those souls who was careless and knowingly swept an unclean memory under the rug. Because my view of that part of my spirituality, my belief is that I think I know that  souls are NOT allowed to leave this world until they find where they left it and take it with them (so when you can’t remember and it’s a bad memory, but it is in you head, consider yourself lucky). There are lost souls chained to this planet because they thought they were being smart and put the painful shit in a filling cabinet so that they could live their life carefree.

well, don’t take my word for it (but I have made it through several physically/medically dead times in my life for maybe a total of 6 minutes all added together) The problem with… wait I need to back track.

because I have to put all them memories back due to my “religion” the thing that sucks is now all the painful shit is exactly where it’s supposed to be (the brain catalogs things so that the can be quickly recalled) cause despite what philosophers think the human body is pretty much fucking perfect, a flawless masterpiece that even god was impressed with, he/she is a loving God and our brains have it built in to protect us from those horrible memories by “forgetting” it’s exact location in your fleshy hardrive. I don’t remember entire days leading up to my head injuries and a day after. I have very foggy memories of nearly dying because of stupid choices I made or people I crossed that don’t give a shit about anything accept for what happens now (NOT A JAB and here and now folks but rather the animals who would kill for money and power)
My brain keeps those hidden for a reason and I have already dealt with the ones I needed to and even more than that because I am “crazy”

those memories that remain hidden will flash when my body dies (cause there is no other way to take them out of the fleshy body, you’ll see them) but the soul is different when it’s not residing in a miracle (body) and you can’t put into words the relief from all the unpleasantness those same memories that feel like hell when the soul’s home is the miracle.

where was I, right, those who were once enlightened but fall back asleep because they think they found a way to cheat. These are the ghosts some people catch glimpses of . Ghosts typically are tortured souls who can’t leave. The longer they are stuck the more tortured they become and the majority of these lost souls are stuck because they need to find those parts of the soul they coughed up but didn’t deal with (storing those memories in a earthly “jump drive” but thinking they are smart enough to know they can NOT leave without it so they put it in a filing cabinet thinking why live with it, everything is cool as long as I grab it after I die and I cannot leave without it so I cannot forget it, what a perfect plan I.) If everything goes according to plan I guess it does work out but it is one of those things that only works in theory. People that live life out of balance like that (too good as they were able to ditch the bad without ever having to deal with it)(******quick freebe some people are tough enough to live and easily recall everything painful and while I do have respect for these clubs like the free souls, there are some people who are emotionally way fuckin tough and not all people that mainstream view as wicked are in any trouble at all spiritually but now I have to shut my fuckin mouth*****) typically they (souls) do not want to leave for a little while. They want to see their loved ones smile or at least reach a point where the grieving is not constant (couple weeks) the problem is time passes different and what the soul thinks is a month might turn out in earth time many years. The souls ready to go, but OH FUCK!!! that filing cabinette with the shit you aren’t allowed to leave without was in  an office that was demolished 15 years ago. And spiritual wisdom is a whole different realm from earthly. Yeah you can tell within a millionth of your dead bodies still lingering hair the exact location of where it was (the magnetic field in the earth you soul knows like nothing you ever did (*****last hint of the aliens they didn’t come in space ships but rather some ancients could converse with the dead{souls not in the miracle} typically the people who could talk with souls or spirits  are those who  assholes of today refer to as  retarded *****) but it doesn’t do your  soul any good  to know where he left it if it has been moved.Because there was no tracking system on the jump drive, mr soul only knows where he left it, and not where it was moved to.

where was I…. the difference between earthly and spiritual wisdom….after a while souls loose most all the earthly wisdom. Then  day after day for what we seems as a long fuckin time (several generations, i don’t know how long the oldest earth dwelling soul not bound to a miracle resides) they go to the spot, freak the fuck out after and escalation of frustration turns to panic . The soul is confused because it knows exactly the geolocation of where the body  left it . I mean a know that is so damn accurate and strong, exactly (within a millionth of a hair) where they put those painful memories, but now they’re  fucked cause its gone.

I originally sat down to go off after releasing it was all just a bunch of students and a few teachers after speed reading a few books and a bunch of art and poetry.

but the meanest thing I did was say “i think you got it wrong” and the only thing meaner, sorry more mean than that that I’ll say is you do not know me, you do not know what I (and you can call me crazy in a deragatory way) you do not know what I honestly believe I know. And I know what you mean when you say it, but for people who get all whiny bout not correctdiction and spelling, I know what you mean, but when you say a person evolves or even a generation evolves, you do not understand evolution, there is no reverse evolution what you are talking about is learning to love or pretending to forget by going back to sleep. I am not saying “you can’t talk like that” I am saying it sounds as stupid or unknowledgable to someone in the know.

and I know how much you guys like fuck shit shit fuck that.

this is not proof read, just because you fix it to good writing doesn’t mean it is not plagerism

dirt clustit (dustywho?)

the perfect me : friendship opportunity

You of no home, of no family
You of no clan, of no history

Meet me, meet me, over the mountain
Meet me, meet me, under the ocean
Cry out, cry out

Cry out, cry out
Cry out, cry out
Cry out, cry out

Meet me, meet me, beautiful daughters
Meet me, meet me, terrible daughters
Cry out, cry out

Meet me, meet me, meet the perfect me
Meet me, meet me, over the mountain
Meet me, meet me, under the ocean
Cry out, cry out

What’s the war
What’s the war for

runners four

http://mp3lyrics.org/Jy2

Deerhoof Twin Killers Lyrics:
Tale of the traitors;
Pretty pretty twin sisters.
Be kind, be shy were all lies.
Witty wicked destroyers.
Tale of killers.
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/Jy2 ]
They’re killers.
Showed my back and so long.

Never be traitors.
Pretty pretty twin sisters.
So fine, so shine what we had.
Tricky two heads deceivers.
Lyrics: Twin KillersDeerhoof [end]

]

Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day Friend

to all Dad’s

I often replay countless memories of you Dad

all the time

One of my favorite things in the world is to gain a reinforcement to a happy memory that I for some reason didn’t use when I first started replaying a good day or thought.

When it seems to happen randomly that the smell of a specific brand of gum when the package freshly opens or the sound of a unique old cash till rings and all of a sudden replaying that warm memory gets closer to reliving it with each sense that is felt that reinforces that old electrical root in my head

I love those Feelings

I love it

~dirt clustit (dustywho?)

all I can do is laugh

laugh at how many times I’ll willing ride the merry-go-round of laughter and believe it every time. I know there have been a lot of frazzled nerves, I wish I could change that, I am definitely different, but I am genuine.

see the problem is…. the problem is I have been very, very, very bad. I am not really sure how to explain it all. I guess I try (condensed version)

Dammit you win. How in the hell you knew about the painting, the oil lamps, the irish spring soap, and the lies to the parking toll booth lady is one bigcrock