Entry Submitted by Heisenberg at 5:42 PM EDT on September 5, 2020
Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go – Pictures Of You
Now I don't know, but I been told
It's hard to run with the weight of gold
Other hand I have heard it said
It's just as hard with the weight of lead
I spent a little time on the mountain
Spent a little time on the hill
Things went down we don't understand
But I think in time we will – New Speedway Boogie
Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no, help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
Over and again, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
(Time, truth, hearts)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on – All These Things That I’ve Done
Badlands, you gotta live it everyday
Let the broken hearts stand
As the price you've gotta pay
Keep pushin' 'til it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good – Badlands
You're dangerous 'cause you're honest
You're dangerous, you don't know what you want
Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot
For any spirit to haunt
You're an accident waiting to happen
You're a piece of glass left in a beach
Well, you tell me things I know you're not supposed to
Then you leave me just out of reach – Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way
I've loved, laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of loosing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh no, no, not me
I did it my way – My Way
And that brings us to tonight’s word: THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG
Care to dance? We’ve been stuck in our left sided analytical, 1+1=3 side for so long, do we remember how? I mean really dance. Not the line dance. Or the cabbage patch. Or the sprinkler. Or the running man. Or the hustle. But the kind of dance that exercises demons from the soul. The kind of dance that celebrates the harvest. A dance that is grateful for a fruitful hunt. The village will eat thru the winter. The tribe shall live on. We faced deaths door once again and said not today Yama. Move along Charon. You will find no ferry gold paid today. Today we dance. A dance choreographed by the soul. The heart. It’s fluid. It’s intangible. It’s God like. A dance that needs to be believed before seen. As the golden apples ripen on the tree and fall effortlessly into our hands… care to dance? They’re playing our song.
Pretty soon we are all going to go our separate ways. That gal or that dude who just happened to be standing next to you for years now will be gone with the wind. You really didn’t know them, and they didn’t really know you. But yet here you both were. Just words on a flyer stapled to a wall in a pub. Lucky to have a gif or a meme as a picture to put with the words. Lucky if honest to God an authentic selfie accompanied their handle. Truth. Downright blessed if you had a friend in the NSA or MVD send a picture of you to match the face with the words to those anons. That’s cheating and you know it. But that’s ok. We’re curious mammals. Nothing but mammals.
But soon that spirit in the night you found yourself next to after hearing the bugle of injustice and together bum rushed no mans land arms locked, won’t be there. You might find yourself all alone out in no man’s land with Guinness and chocolates for two, only to hear your own voice in the echo chamber. Hello hello. Donde esta? Where did he go? Where’d she go? Where’d who go? Top gun boom. To her favorite place which is a 100 trillion miles from no man’s land? A billion miles from the adrenochrome factories? A million miles away from the falling stars of Hollywood? Far far away from the clone zones? Where did everyone go? Don’t they know some were bred to fight? And only fight? Where the next enemy? Where’s that millennial who called me a racist transphobic. Sup Michelle? Get on your gloves. Get on your boots. C’mon everybody. Let’s head out to Italy and find the Phoenicians. How does spell check know that word? I got a trillion in the bank. Let’s blow up some DUMBs. Let’s put Soros under citizen’s arrest. Where is everyone? Let’s fight the remaining hidden enemy. Isn’t that what warriors do? Aren’t we digital soldiers? Weren’t we the ones who heard the dog whistle clarion call battle cry to storm the cabal castle. Weren’t we tapped by arch angel Michael himself to drag that bat signal into the shadowy checkboard halls of the illuminati? And the basement of the vatican? Did we not do what was asked of us? Didn’t we smile like we meant it? Why is no one out here? Where’s the barb wire that I borrowed for my bat Lucille? Where’s Wonder Woman? I could a sworn she was right here. Is our reward a lonely foxhole in no mans land?
It’s over, Rock. All the fighting is over. Fiat money is gone. The DUMBs are gone. The adrenochrome is gone. The mainstream media is gone. MKULTRA is gone. The clone zones, aka Donald Marshalls summer home, is gone. 5G is gone. Fluoride is gone. GMOs are gone. The poppy fields are gone. ISIS, MS13, the crips, the bloods, all the divisions are gone. Katy Perry…… is gone. It’s over…
How can it just be over? 13 thousand years of slavery? Of pain? Suffering? Hell on earth? How can you just turn it off? In 4 short years you tell me how that happens. You show me your magic wand. The enemy had all bases covered. Generals, presidents, the banks, the currency, the blackmail, the stars? The cops and the cons. All the way down to the kindergarten teachers. They had it all. Is that how they batted almost 1000 when recruiting for their heartless army? Kid… we can’t lose. Have a cigar. You’re going to go far. All they had to do was have Hillary win. That’s all. She’s on the thirty. The twenty. The ten… the five….
Your pretty empire took so long to build, now, with a snap of history’s fingers, down it goes – V for Vendetta
So you’re telling me the Alliance had a plan so great, 13 millennia of evil was reversed in 4 short years? The head of the snake was cut off without a bloody civil war? And now the piece de resistance will be a red wedding cake come November? No offense but isn’t that a little quick for such an apocalyptic big bang? That’s what she said. But we digital warriors were just getting fired up. Just getting our sea legs. Just putting on the full armour of God. I just took a GIF cooking class. I want a refund. For those freshmen who just bought their first ZIM, it feels like it’s over before it began. Excuse me, hotshot, but is there going to be a round two? That’s what…
*one was enough, Heis. We get it*
Sooooo it’s over? Just like that? Everyone gone? Last call? You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here?
Yes, Heisenberg. All have gone back to their families. Off to house homeless. Home the houseless. Off to the 4 corners of the flat earth to give the poor what they need. Fresh water. Food. Running toilets. Clothes. The cabal really did a number on the extreme poor. You all in Amerika had it good compared to them. 800,000 missing kids a year was pretty bad but overall, the quality of this American “life” was better than most. You should always remember this. And be extra grateful.
But will Paddys keep his Kelly green doors open? Surely Paddy will keep the lights on and beer cold for those wanting to remis the bad old days. Surely the wonderous youtubes of our transformation into a 5th dimensional nirvana will still be there to keep me company. X22 was so reliable. Surely after our blessings, the Echo Chamber will party on into the night. The over stimulation is stimulating. Let my endorphins go. Don’t tell me open mic night at Dangerfield’s is shutting down. What will we do without our standup comics? What’s the deal with paragraphs? I'm not questioning your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the grammatical paradox of asking a man who writes one-word sentences to use paragraphs. Surely everyone who fought the great re-awakening will want to return everyday to light the candle in the window and share war stories of handling the shills their asses on a silver platter. I mean…. Mammals are creatures of habit, are they not? For better or for worse? Surely they will return to a bubbling watering hole.
Heisenberg… you are correct. Mammals are creatures of habit. And stop calling me Shirly. I’m sensing a feeling of loss in your tone. Didn’t you know this “civil war” was only temporary? A mere stepping stone in time so that all wars may end. Did you get stuck in a moment you can’t get out of? For all your self professed sense of wonder during the transition, did you fail to foresee an empty pub post blessings? What happened to Mr. I didn’t come here to make friends? Mr. this ain’t no popularity contest? Mr. THAT bitch? Whatssamatta, Heis? Don’t like drinking alone?
Oh that? Thems just jokes. Hey I was just following Sun Tzu. Didn’t Sun Tzu say tell the enemy you’re THAT bitch when actually you’re not THAT bitch? Tell the enemy you’re just fine with isolation and derision and mockery and who needs friends when in truth a few valuable friends were found along the way? In a foxhole out in no man’s land? With a mini fridge stocked up and a red white and blue lava lamp? Hey, beats a rabbit hole. Yes, I’m in love with the rabbit hole but damn she sure gets around.
For all the lone wolfing I guess you got my number good. What’s the most precious item you can give another? Your time. Your attention. Come to find out that’s all we have in this flat earth. Love from the heart. Long stem roses and chocolates are merely imaginary beads. I guess the gesture is nice but what can compare to good old fashion time spent? When you read someone’s words, you are inviting them into your life. Your computer brain that never forgets. Your heart. That’s why Ghandi said “I will not let anyone walk thru my mind with dirty feet.” And you know the ones. The slick ones who backslide. The larps. In the Echo Chamber they call it blocking. Unfollow. Here in the pub we call it a hard pass. Swipe left. But for those who never backslided against us… after years of words on the daily with naer a discouraging word or shit on their shoes sullying the right side of the mind’s shag rug?... them?... how are we to feel when it’s all over and they ride off into the horizon? To see the sun set one someone else’s day? Let’s just sum it up with a quote from the Gratefully Dead… Don’t fly away…. Cause I love what I love and I want it that way. Nuff said, bub.
Heis… you appear to be a little fearful of the future. Have you been too long at war? Fighting those sheep who won’t fight for themselves? Are you wondering how life will be when there are no more drowning men to pull from the tempest sea? What is your concern? Your worry?There won’t be a need for you anymore? Everyone will be woke so being woke isn’t unique? No one will fight off the arrows of wonder with their quick draw cognitive dissonance anymore? Wonder is an amazing thing. A wonderful gift from God to His people. It’s a shame many leave the gift unopened under the Christmas tree. A damn shame.
However, on the bright side, many of your so called compadres opened their sense of wonder long ago. They are the ones we watch from up high. The artists. The musicians. The storytellers. The graphic novelists. We telepathically delight when the shackled ones imagine a better world for their people as we know it will soon turn into manifestation. The human’s ability to wonder is a beautiful thing to watch. Except Saint Adolf. Really?? What were you thinking? For a man who strives for win-win situations in all efforts, you really stepped in the lose lose cowpie.
Do we really have to bring that up? That’s ancient history. In my defense I have made a career or wonder so shouldn’t be a surprise. Combine that with a fondness for the drink and a spot-on sensation of divine protection and boom goes the dynamite. And if you think about it, it’s only about once every 6 months a turd gets dropped on Paddys grandmas antique rug by Heis. Once a week for 6 months that’s about 4%. Not bad odds, right? You should be thanking me.
And on the other hand, it did make me laugh. I always say one day you guys are going get me in trouble. Don’t shoot the messenger fly. When you laugh on a thought… that means you’re on the right track. No matter the subject material. Cause it’s all bullshit. 99%. Laughter is the best medicine. The sharpest arrow. Hit em in the funny bone… that’s where they expect it least. It’s funny cause it’s true. And if it ain’t true… then that’s called fiction. Or history. Think about it.
But yea… you see thru me. As always. Maybe my bedside manner for the sheep come lately isn’t going to be up to par with Florence Nightengale. Frankly, holding someone’s hair back while they puke isn’t my cup of tea. Sitting bedside with a box of Kleenex while they cry *why??!!! Why Lord why!!!????* sounds like a job for a more patient soul. Call in the nurses. Old Klinger is going back to Cleveland. My arms are so scratched up from the drowning man, now I gotta sit bedside to that same soul who mocked me for sharing my thoughtful gift of wonder and conspiracy theory? Made fun of my home made tin foil hat to the cutest girl in class? Other than a couple *See? I told you so. See?*s, anyone else think that’s the worst job in the world? Bueller? Come on. I can’t be the only one in the pub who’d rather fight the cabal than empty sheeple’s bed pans. Oh… so I’m the a55shole? I’m the a55hole here?
And I guess my worry is not only that the fight is gone with no purpose. What about space? What if I find it cold? And the ships are claustrophobic? And the food is bland. No Hatch chile. What if I miss my mountain? And it’s burning bush? And the sermons upon it? What if I don’t fit in up there? Up there or down here?
Whoa whoa Heisenberg. That went south fast. You really need to dial in your sense of wonder. I think God gave you the extra strength version. You know this thing is on, right? Yes the end is coming. But every end is a new beginning. All of the warriors who fought this long strange war will have a place in the new vision. There’s a plan for everyone. Every last one will go exactly where they need to go. God and we have thought of every last detail. We know all of your past, present and futures. So be ye not worried. Not ye be worried. Worried ye not be. Ye worried not be. Your faith, sacrifice and free willingness to answer the clarion call shall have its reward. Just stop overthinking it. What’s the alternative? Changing diapers on the sheep?
Well said. Well said. It’s just Kirk, man. Zero training and saved flatearth. WTF? Those are pretty big shoes to fill. But hey… while I got you here. I’ve been thinking what Jesus would think of the choir section in our little chapel in the alley. Our little Calgary with a side of stout proper. Do you think he likes the music we play here? Is he honored? And His Father? It’s a nagging thought. What do you think, Michael?
Great Q. All gifts and tributes made is His honor are noted and appreciated. You are His children after all. But to answer your question… the lyrics?... well, let’s put it this way. Jesus was the satirical lyrical miracle so little hard to top. Earth has too many talkers and they’re not saying anything. If I had to say, I would say He really likes the drums. Humanity has lost its timing. It walks without a beat. And the drummers are giving back to humanity a steady one two as they march off to a 5D Christ consciousness. I think humanity is starting to get it’s rhythm back. And that is in part to the drummers. If you get confused listen to the music play. Listen to the drummer’s beat. Listen as it synchs up with your heartbeat. Maybe fast in times of arousal. Oh behave. And maybe slower in times of inward reflection. God bless the drummers. For they light the match of the candle.
Think of music and your songs as letters from home. From family and girlfriends. In your world war 2, soldiers carried this precious cargo in their inner coat pockets. Retrieved when they wanted to revisit their love’s soul was desired in a dark foxhole on a lonely night. Years from now, you will hear these songs and it will remind you of the soldiers you fought alongside all these years. They may not be with you in person or even sitting stoolside in your Paddys pub. They may be a million miles away. Literally. And digitally. But that one song reminding you of the love of that one person will be yours to cherish. That song will be precious cargo. No longer reminding you of highschool or your first kiss. New memories will take over that song. Memories of this odd war. And sometimes that’s the best one can hope for. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair. When all the words have faded away forgotten to the clock on the wall… the memories in the melodies will live on. And the spirits in the night you fought and lived alongside for those years may revisit you in some extra dimensional way. Just by you remembering, you will manifest a connection only understood in the invisible world. Trust me. It is the way.
Uhh… Heisenberg… I’m just curious… do we have a song?
And that’s the word
Heisenberg
I Still Do
In Between Days
When I Come Around
One Drop
Losing My Religion
My Way
Walk On
There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Fall On Me
New Speedway Boogie
Song For Someone
Scar Tissue
You Have Placed A Chill In My Heart
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
Brow of My Beloved
It Doesn't Matter (Unable to embed below)
Pictures of You
Take On Me (Live From MTV Unplugged)
Long As I Can See The Light
Beautiful War
Every Breaking Wave
Sometimes It Snows in April
Dreaming My Dreams
The Zephyr Song
Man On The Moon
The Lounge Fly
Me In Honey
Nothing Compares 2 U
Sunday
For You (Live at the Hammersmith Odeon, London '75)
Do To Me
Don't Go Away
Missing You
With Or Without You (At The BBC)
My Way - Joker
Somebody
I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side and give me support
And in return, she'll get my support
She will listen to me when I want to speak
About the world we live in and life in general
Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted
She'll hear me out and won't easily be converted
To my way of thinking, in fact, she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all, she will understand me
I want somebody who cares for me passionately
With every thought and with every breath
Someone who'll help me see things in a different light
All the things I detest I will almost like
I don't want to be tied to anyone's strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of those things
But when I'm asleep I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly
Though things like this make me sick
In a case like this, I'll get away with it
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Copyright © 2020 Dinar Chronicles
Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go – Pictures Of You
Now I don't know, but I been told
It's hard to run with the weight of gold
Other hand I have heard it said
It's just as hard with the weight of lead
I spent a little time on the mountain
Spent a little time on the hill
Things went down we don't understand
But I think in time we will – New Speedway Boogie
Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no, help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
Over and again, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
(Time, truth, hearts)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on – All These Things That I’ve Done
Badlands, you gotta live it everyday
Let the broken hearts stand
As the price you've gotta pay
Keep pushin' 'til it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good – Badlands
You're dangerous 'cause you're honest
You're dangerous, you don't know what you want
Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot
For any spirit to haunt
You're an accident waiting to happen
You're a piece of glass left in a beach
Well, you tell me things I know you're not supposed to
Then you leave me just out of reach – Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way
I've loved, laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of loosing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh no, no, not me
I did it my way – My Way
And that brings us to tonight’s word: THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG
Care to dance? We’ve been stuck in our left sided analytical, 1+1=3 side for so long, do we remember how? I mean really dance. Not the line dance. Or the cabbage patch. Or the sprinkler. Or the running man. Or the hustle. But the kind of dance that exercises demons from the soul. The kind of dance that celebrates the harvest. A dance that is grateful for a fruitful hunt. The village will eat thru the winter. The tribe shall live on. We faced deaths door once again and said not today Yama. Move along Charon. You will find no ferry gold paid today. Today we dance. A dance choreographed by the soul. The heart. It’s fluid. It’s intangible. It’s God like. A dance that needs to be believed before seen. As the golden apples ripen on the tree and fall effortlessly into our hands… care to dance? They’re playing our song.
Pretty soon we are all going to go our separate ways. That gal or that dude who just happened to be standing next to you for years now will be gone with the wind. You really didn’t know them, and they didn’t really know you. But yet here you both were. Just words on a flyer stapled to a wall in a pub. Lucky to have a gif or a meme as a picture to put with the words. Lucky if honest to God an authentic selfie accompanied their handle. Truth. Downright blessed if you had a friend in the NSA or MVD send a picture of you to match the face with the words to those anons. That’s cheating and you know it. But that’s ok. We’re curious mammals. Nothing but mammals.
But soon that spirit in the night you found yourself next to after hearing the bugle of injustice and together bum rushed no mans land arms locked, won’t be there. You might find yourself all alone out in no man’s land with Guinness and chocolates for two, only to hear your own voice in the echo chamber. Hello hello. Donde esta? Where did he go? Where’d she go? Where’d who go? Top gun boom. To her favorite place which is a 100 trillion miles from no man’s land? A billion miles from the adrenochrome factories? A million miles away from the falling stars of Hollywood? Far far away from the clone zones? Where did everyone go? Don’t they know some were bred to fight? And only fight? Where the next enemy? Where’s that millennial who called me a racist transphobic. Sup Michelle? Get on your gloves. Get on your boots. C’mon everybody. Let’s head out to Italy and find the Phoenicians. How does spell check know that word? I got a trillion in the bank. Let’s blow up some DUMBs. Let’s put Soros under citizen’s arrest. Where is everyone? Let’s fight the remaining hidden enemy. Isn’t that what warriors do? Aren’t we digital soldiers? Weren’t we the ones who heard the dog whistle clarion call battle cry to storm the cabal castle. Weren’t we tapped by arch angel Michael himself to drag that bat signal into the shadowy checkboard halls of the illuminati? And the basement of the vatican? Did we not do what was asked of us? Didn’t we smile like we meant it? Why is no one out here? Where’s the barb wire that I borrowed for my bat Lucille? Where’s Wonder Woman? I could a sworn she was right here. Is our reward a lonely foxhole in no mans land?
It’s over, Rock. All the fighting is over. Fiat money is gone. The DUMBs are gone. The adrenochrome is gone. The mainstream media is gone. MKULTRA is gone. The clone zones, aka Donald Marshalls summer home, is gone. 5G is gone. Fluoride is gone. GMOs are gone. The poppy fields are gone. ISIS, MS13, the crips, the bloods, all the divisions are gone. Katy Perry…… is gone. It’s over…
How can it just be over? 13 thousand years of slavery? Of pain? Suffering? Hell on earth? How can you just turn it off? In 4 short years you tell me how that happens. You show me your magic wand. The enemy had all bases covered. Generals, presidents, the banks, the currency, the blackmail, the stars? The cops and the cons. All the way down to the kindergarten teachers. They had it all. Is that how they batted almost 1000 when recruiting for their heartless army? Kid… we can’t lose. Have a cigar. You’re going to go far. All they had to do was have Hillary win. That’s all. She’s on the thirty. The twenty. The ten… the five….
Your pretty empire took so long to build, now, with a snap of history’s fingers, down it goes – V for Vendetta
So you’re telling me the Alliance had a plan so great, 13 millennia of evil was reversed in 4 short years? The head of the snake was cut off without a bloody civil war? And now the piece de resistance will be a red wedding cake come November? No offense but isn’t that a little quick for such an apocalyptic big bang? That’s what she said. But we digital warriors were just getting fired up. Just getting our sea legs. Just putting on the full armour of God. I just took a GIF cooking class. I want a refund. For those freshmen who just bought their first ZIM, it feels like it’s over before it began. Excuse me, hotshot, but is there going to be a round two? That’s what…
*one was enough, Heis. We get it*
Sooooo it’s over? Just like that? Everyone gone? Last call? You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here?
Yes, Heisenberg. All have gone back to their families. Off to house homeless. Home the houseless. Off to the 4 corners of the flat earth to give the poor what they need. Fresh water. Food. Running toilets. Clothes. The cabal really did a number on the extreme poor. You all in Amerika had it good compared to them. 800,000 missing kids a year was pretty bad but overall, the quality of this American “life” was better than most. You should always remember this. And be extra grateful.
But will Paddys keep his Kelly green doors open? Surely Paddy will keep the lights on and beer cold for those wanting to remis the bad old days. Surely the wonderous youtubes of our transformation into a 5th dimensional nirvana will still be there to keep me company. X22 was so reliable. Surely after our blessings, the Echo Chamber will party on into the night. The over stimulation is stimulating. Let my endorphins go. Don’t tell me open mic night at Dangerfield’s is shutting down. What will we do without our standup comics? What’s the deal with paragraphs? I'm not questioning your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the grammatical paradox of asking a man who writes one-word sentences to use paragraphs. Surely everyone who fought the great re-awakening will want to return everyday to light the candle in the window and share war stories of handling the shills their asses on a silver platter. I mean…. Mammals are creatures of habit, are they not? For better or for worse? Surely they will return to a bubbling watering hole.
Heisenberg… you are correct. Mammals are creatures of habit. And stop calling me Shirly. I’m sensing a feeling of loss in your tone. Didn’t you know this “civil war” was only temporary? A mere stepping stone in time so that all wars may end. Did you get stuck in a moment you can’t get out of? For all your self professed sense of wonder during the transition, did you fail to foresee an empty pub post blessings? What happened to Mr. I didn’t come here to make friends? Mr. this ain’t no popularity contest? Mr. THAT bitch? Whatssamatta, Heis? Don’t like drinking alone?
Oh that? Thems just jokes. Hey I was just following Sun Tzu. Didn’t Sun Tzu say tell the enemy you’re THAT bitch when actually you’re not THAT bitch? Tell the enemy you’re just fine with isolation and derision and mockery and who needs friends when in truth a few valuable friends were found along the way? In a foxhole out in no man’s land? With a mini fridge stocked up and a red white and blue lava lamp? Hey, beats a rabbit hole. Yes, I’m in love with the rabbit hole but damn she sure gets around.
For all the lone wolfing I guess you got my number good. What’s the most precious item you can give another? Your time. Your attention. Come to find out that’s all we have in this flat earth. Love from the heart. Long stem roses and chocolates are merely imaginary beads. I guess the gesture is nice but what can compare to good old fashion time spent? When you read someone’s words, you are inviting them into your life. Your computer brain that never forgets. Your heart. That’s why Ghandi said “I will not let anyone walk thru my mind with dirty feet.” And you know the ones. The slick ones who backslide. The larps. In the Echo Chamber they call it blocking. Unfollow. Here in the pub we call it a hard pass. Swipe left. But for those who never backslided against us… after years of words on the daily with naer a discouraging word or shit on their shoes sullying the right side of the mind’s shag rug?... them?... how are we to feel when it’s all over and they ride off into the horizon? To see the sun set one someone else’s day? Let’s just sum it up with a quote from the Gratefully Dead… Don’t fly away…. Cause I love what I love and I want it that way. Nuff said, bub.
Heis… you appear to be a little fearful of the future. Have you been too long at war? Fighting those sheep who won’t fight for themselves? Are you wondering how life will be when there are no more drowning men to pull from the tempest sea? What is your concern? Your worry?There won’t be a need for you anymore? Everyone will be woke so being woke isn’t unique? No one will fight off the arrows of wonder with their quick draw cognitive dissonance anymore? Wonder is an amazing thing. A wonderful gift from God to His people. It’s a shame many leave the gift unopened under the Christmas tree. A damn shame.
However, on the bright side, many of your so called compadres opened their sense of wonder long ago. They are the ones we watch from up high. The artists. The musicians. The storytellers. The graphic novelists. We telepathically delight when the shackled ones imagine a better world for their people as we know it will soon turn into manifestation. The human’s ability to wonder is a beautiful thing to watch. Except Saint Adolf. Really?? What were you thinking? For a man who strives for win-win situations in all efforts, you really stepped in the lose lose cowpie.
Do we really have to bring that up? That’s ancient history. In my defense I have made a career or wonder so shouldn’t be a surprise. Combine that with a fondness for the drink and a spot-on sensation of divine protection and boom goes the dynamite. And if you think about it, it’s only about once every 6 months a turd gets dropped on Paddys grandmas antique rug by Heis. Once a week for 6 months that’s about 4%. Not bad odds, right? You should be thanking me.
And on the other hand, it did make me laugh. I always say one day you guys are going get me in trouble. Don’t shoot the messenger fly. When you laugh on a thought… that means you’re on the right track. No matter the subject material. Cause it’s all bullshit. 99%. Laughter is the best medicine. The sharpest arrow. Hit em in the funny bone… that’s where they expect it least. It’s funny cause it’s true. And if it ain’t true… then that’s called fiction. Or history. Think about it.
But yea… you see thru me. As always. Maybe my bedside manner for the sheep come lately isn’t going to be up to par with Florence Nightengale. Frankly, holding someone’s hair back while they puke isn’t my cup of tea. Sitting bedside with a box of Kleenex while they cry *why??!!! Why Lord why!!!????* sounds like a job for a more patient soul. Call in the nurses. Old Klinger is going back to Cleveland. My arms are so scratched up from the drowning man, now I gotta sit bedside to that same soul who mocked me for sharing my thoughtful gift of wonder and conspiracy theory? Made fun of my home made tin foil hat to the cutest girl in class? Other than a couple *See? I told you so. See?*s, anyone else think that’s the worst job in the world? Bueller? Come on. I can’t be the only one in the pub who’d rather fight the cabal than empty sheeple’s bed pans. Oh… so I’m the a55shole? I’m the a55hole here?
And I guess my worry is not only that the fight is gone with no purpose. What about space? What if I find it cold? And the ships are claustrophobic? And the food is bland. No Hatch chile. What if I miss my mountain? And it’s burning bush? And the sermons upon it? What if I don’t fit in up there? Up there or down here?
Whoa whoa Heisenberg. That went south fast. You really need to dial in your sense of wonder. I think God gave you the extra strength version. You know this thing is on, right? Yes the end is coming. But every end is a new beginning. All of the warriors who fought this long strange war will have a place in the new vision. There’s a plan for everyone. Every last one will go exactly where they need to go. God and we have thought of every last detail. We know all of your past, present and futures. So be ye not worried. Not ye be worried. Worried ye not be. Ye worried not be. Your faith, sacrifice and free willingness to answer the clarion call shall have its reward. Just stop overthinking it. What’s the alternative? Changing diapers on the sheep?
Well said. Well said. It’s just Kirk, man. Zero training and saved flatearth. WTF? Those are pretty big shoes to fill. But hey… while I got you here. I’ve been thinking what Jesus would think of the choir section in our little chapel in the alley. Our little Calgary with a side of stout proper. Do you think he likes the music we play here? Is he honored? And His Father? It’s a nagging thought. What do you think, Michael?
Great Q. All gifts and tributes made is His honor are noted and appreciated. You are His children after all. But to answer your question… the lyrics?... well, let’s put it this way. Jesus was the satirical lyrical miracle so little hard to top. Earth has too many talkers and they’re not saying anything. If I had to say, I would say He really likes the drums. Humanity has lost its timing. It walks without a beat. And the drummers are giving back to humanity a steady one two as they march off to a 5D Christ consciousness. I think humanity is starting to get it’s rhythm back. And that is in part to the drummers. If you get confused listen to the music play. Listen to the drummer’s beat. Listen as it synchs up with your heartbeat. Maybe fast in times of arousal. Oh behave. And maybe slower in times of inward reflection. God bless the drummers. For they light the match of the candle.
Think of music and your songs as letters from home. From family and girlfriends. In your world war 2, soldiers carried this precious cargo in their inner coat pockets. Retrieved when they wanted to revisit their love’s soul was desired in a dark foxhole on a lonely night. Years from now, you will hear these songs and it will remind you of the soldiers you fought alongside all these years. They may not be with you in person or even sitting stoolside in your Paddys pub. They may be a million miles away. Literally. And digitally. But that one song reminding you of the love of that one person will be yours to cherish. That song will be precious cargo. No longer reminding you of highschool or your first kiss. New memories will take over that song. Memories of this odd war. And sometimes that’s the best one can hope for. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair. When all the words have faded away forgotten to the clock on the wall… the memories in the melodies will live on. And the spirits in the night you fought and lived alongside for those years may revisit you in some extra dimensional way. Just by you remembering, you will manifest a connection only understood in the invisible world. Trust me. It is the way.
Uhh… Heisenberg… I’m just curious… do we have a song?
And that’s the word
Heisenberg
I Still Do
In Between Days
When I Come Around
One Drop
Losing My Religion
My Way
Walk On
There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Fall On Me
New Speedway Boogie
Song For Someone
Scar Tissue
You Have Placed A Chill In My Heart
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
Brow of My Beloved
It Doesn't Matter (Unable to embed below)
Pictures of You
Take On Me (Live From MTV Unplugged)
Long As I Can See The Light
Beautiful War
Every Breaking Wave
Sometimes It Snows in April
Dreaming My Dreams
The Zephyr Song
Man On The Moon
The Lounge Fly
Me In Honey
Nothing Compares 2 U
Sunday
For You (Live at the Hammersmith Odeon, London '75)
Do To Me
Don't Go Away
Missing You
With Or Without You (At The BBC)
My Way - Joker
Somebody
I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side and give me support
And in return, she'll get my support
She will listen to me when I want to speak
About the world we live in and life in general
Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted
She'll hear me out and won't easily be converted
To my way of thinking, in fact, she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all, she will understand me
I want somebody who cares for me passionately
With every thought and with every breath
Someone who'll help me see things in a different light
All the things I detest I will almost like
I don't want to be tied to anyone's strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of those things
But when I'm asleep I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly
Though things like this make me sick
In a case like this, I'll get away with it
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