Magic


You were in my dreams last night again. Like usual we were on a date, but this time it was set in outerspace. Candles were floating around us and our waiter Roberto took our order upsidedown.

I think Roberto had a crush on you because he kept throwing rolls at the back of my head and they would float off into infinity.

We talked a lot about soup and you played footsie with me. Your eyes sparkled like the stars around us and a meteor flew by and messed your hair. You were like the sun and I was like the fourteenth moon of Jupiter.

It was not at all like the wet dream I had where we were swimming, or the hot and sultry dream where we were on safari. It was like nothing I had ever dreamed, or ever dreamed of dreaming.

I remember faintly the sound of you expanding into a vast nebula and I made a joke about Orion.
You looked away then and became a space donkey and Roberto mounted you with a familiarity that startled me.

I don’t believe that dreams mean anything. That is, anything more than any other message
given to me by God. So when I saw the image of your face in my morning breakfast burrito, it didn’t surprise me.

I know that I shouldn’t still be dreaming about you after all this time.
And I know that the restraining order says I really shouldn’t even be writing this to you.
But I feel so strongly about the way the dream ended that I needed to tell you.
You landed on a planet and got implanted with an alien egg that later exploded out of your chest.
And I threw Roberto into a black hole.

I don’t know what all this means. I’m no dream interpreter.
And I don’t know if my need for you is some sort of reverse Stockholm Syndrome.
I’m no criminal pathologist.

But this I do know. I’m gonna dream of you again tonight. Because I love you.
And because I’m going to drop three tabs of acid and stare at your picture for five hours before drinking myself to sleep.

JJ and Ryan

 

http://dreammoods.com/
http://www.sleeps.com/
http://www.nasa.gov/

Weeks ago, on a Sunday, a few friends and I wandered in the forest to spend a day basking in a sulfuric hot springs near Vancouver, CA. As you might imagine, the pleasant smell of the sulfur-laced water was reminiscent of that dream everyone has of wading through a plethoric concentration of rotten eggs, but somehow it was a pleasant experience for me. The natural warmth of mother nature contrasted sensually with her chilled air, and the putrid smells eventually became us because — as is well documented by Cambridge ass-tro-physicists — our own shit don’t stink.

Soon after we arrived a second group joined us consisting of five folks coming from a Renaissance Fair, folks who reminded me of the 80’s video game Golden Axe. They quickly and obnoxiously asserted an uncomfortable social domination over our group, spicing our conversation with shouts of non-politically-correct vulgarity. They got naked (as were most of us), drunk (a cold beer in a hot spring is delightful idea!) and overly-stoned, and then they began literally overly-stoning each other, throwing rocks at each others’ faces and ignoring us, the innocent bystanders. There was one female included in their coterie and it became apparent that an orgy would occur the moment we left. Our presence was a cockblock.

At dusk they brought out a box of 200 glow sticks which lit up the water like a radioactive lightning bug factory. The rock war turned into a glow stick war. “With the rockets green glare, the bongs bursting with THC fortified air, gave proof through the night that empty beer cans were bound to be left there.”

We made our exit as darkness made its entrance, to permit our companions privacy to relieve their blue balls (and the female equivalent) and because there seemed no time limit to their violent ballistic battles. The drunker they got and the darker it got were Oxy clear factors in rapidly declining aim. Oh yeah, and two of their guys were already making out French style.

Most of my group was dissatisfied with the day’s happenings but I was fascinated with this display of raw, timeless human nature. We are all animals, dude. Hear me roar.

By the way, what do you think of “Blue Ovaries” as the name for my autobiography?

All Spice and Periwinkle,
j.j.

Get ready for Jesus’ return!
Make your plans to spend the Son of Man’s glorious return along with
me, Ryan McGivern and the rest of the mindflowers.net team
in Frankenmuth, Michigan Saturday May 21st, 2011.

Call 1-800-Fun-Town today to plan out your weekend now!

May 21st 2011 in Frankenmuth Michigan will feature the World Expo of Beer: a great
two day festival of the world’s finely crafted premier beers. Expect the beautiful setting
of Heritage Park along the serine Cass River to welcome you with the sounds of Polka, hearty laughter, and good friends to reconnect with.

Also expect the return of Jesus, the warm hearted Nazarene, as he comes to shine mercy and grace upon Earth in a rule of justice, equity, and shalom peace.

“Remember to Make Summer 2011 a Summer to Remember!”

General Beer Expo admission cost will be around 1,200$ (adjusted for inflation) but the
sight of Jesus lovingly floating through the sky over Green Acres Golf Course, Fortress Golf Club, and Timbers Golf Club will be priceless!

(The golf near Frankenmuth is exceptional. Once global order and justice is made by the King of Kings, only expect it to get better!)

Join me, Ryan McGivern, JJ, and Lo Liz in Frankenmuth Michigan May 21st, 2011!

World Beer Expo Info 
http://www.frankenmuthfestivals.com/
1 800 FUN FEST (386 3378)

Haus Meeting has some stiff competition with Beirut.
This video makes my mouth and pants water.


Day Of Wrath (Vredens Dag) Directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer1943

In Dreyer’s film, we each are confronted with our own ‘day of wrath’. The heavy presence of suspicion, fear, and betrayal are also joined with the piety, righteousness, and faith. It is perhaps the mixing of all these elements that make the film so compelling and heart wrenching. We are left with the interrogating voice: “whom do I condemn?”

The story unfolds in 1623 when the fear of witches was at a fevered pitch and examines how a small dose of fear, even if justified can consume families, communities, and love. Hersof’s Marte, who dabbles in folk medicine, states as she mixes a pumice of herbs from below the gallows, “there is a power in evil.” This power has wider and wilder influence than even she can imagine because of its being clothed in terms of the highest piety. She is caught by representatives of the Church and is tortured into giving a confession of collusion with the Devil.

It is in this torture of Hersof’s Marte, which is depicted in shocking though not explicit terms, that we can find our own selves under indictment. The Church does this with the best intentions, to save her soul, to cleanse the community of a grave danger. How far do we go as people of faith, in our best intentions and highest pieties, to protect our own and seek the salvation of souls?

Absalon, the Church magistrate, father of Martin, and widower who has remarried a beautiful young Anne, visits the condemned in her cell waiting to be burned at the stake and tells her he is praying for her soul. The woman is outraged; “I fear not heaven or hell! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to burn!” There is a horrible disconnect between the Church’s worldview and the condemned. What is seen by the former as a great crime (potions of herbs), the other sees only as an innocuous tradition. What the former sees as the highest goal (saving one’s soul) the other sees as complete nonsense-she merely wants to live. As the burning is about to take place, Hersof’s Marte tells Absalon that because she will burn, so will Anne. This threat is voiced to no one else, but its seed is laid and no later than that very evening is Absalon’s suspicion of his wife stirred. His young wife’s behavior is purely understandable-she is told that her mother was a witch who had the power to influence others. Through her loveless and marriage and newfound love for Martin, her stepson, she is driven to fantasize that she can control others to the point of perhaps even believing it.

The film shows that belief has its own reality. All one needs to have is the firm commitment to a belief and it bears the consequences and reality of its own. In the end, fear and suspicion draped in custom, religion, and best intentions leave a trail of death and brokenness.

I’ve seen amazing things in my life including a horse giving birth to a baby squirrel and an actual stairway to heaven. I’ve even seen inside your soul, which, as opposed to popular opinion, isn’t composed primarily of coal. But never have I ever seen a youtube video as appropriate to post to mindflowers as this, an elephant painting an elephant holding a flower.

Concurrently with watching the video I recommend music from my favorite KEXP radio show, DJ Riz’s Variety Mix.

After you watch an elephant paint I suggest Thai food (spicy level 3 out of 5) , a walk in the woods, a ten dollar donation to your local Humane Society chapter, a few microbrewed beers, some sex and some lucid dreaming. A recipe for your perfect day.

***

a monkey’s floating head
in the void filled with glue
(the monkey’s head, not the void)
grabs some clay with its psychic
prehensile tail and forms it
into as much order as it can manage
since its brain is filled with glue and
the clay hates
its metaphorical guts

 Ryan McGivern

Are you one of those who goes to uneasy sleep each night wondering when Jesus is going to come back? Do you want to enjoy a whole expo of world beers as He floats down from heaven? Here’s all the info you’ll need to get ready for MAY 21st, 2011, the day Jesus’ll come back.

  • Matthew 24:37 “As were the days of Noah, so shall be the coming of the son of man.”
  • Genesis 7:4 “For yet seven days and I will cause it to reain upon the earth.”
  • II Peter 3:8 “Forget not this one thing, beloved, that one day is with the Lord as
    a thousand years.”
  • It is known the exact year of the flood in Noah’s day was the year 4990 BCE. Thus, seven days, 7000 years. Thus, if you add 7000 to Noah’s flood date, you get 2011. The extra year is accounted for in the ‘zero’ year between BCE and CE.
  • Hence, May 21st 2011 is the day Jesus is coming back.

For more information on Jesus, email davidto216@sbcglobal.net

I say let’s all plan on spending the day of infamy at the Frankenmuth World Expo of Beer, in Frankenmuth Michigan, taking place during May 20 and 21 2011.
http://www.frankenmuthfestivals.com/?subpage_id=2009
http://www.frankenmuth.org/
http://beer.about.com/od/beerfestivals/gr/FrankFest2007.htm

Frankenmuth Michigan: the only place to be when Jesus comes back.

Ryan McGivern
www.myspace.com/mckibbon

skate ***Warning: spoilers and honest appraisal of the worst book ever contained below!***

I settle into bed and snuggle up with the last installment of the Harry Potter series with some tea on the bedstand and a rare gloomy L.A. to avoid. I wrongly assume this will be a pleasurable end to the series.”Alright! Here we go! Let’s get some rocking action going!….What? A newspaper article about Albus? What the hell? Who wants to read periodicals in a book about wizards?…What? A wedding? Who cares about this stupid wedding?…..Alright! Some action!…What? Camping in a goddam tent? Who wants to read about a camping trip with three jerks?….Ron leaves! Finally!…He’s back…What’s up with the Putter Outter suddenly being a deus machina? What the hell? This book sucks! Deathly Hallows? What the hell?”

I quickly realize this book is a bunch of nonsense. First we had to learn all about some stupid Horcrux bullcrap and now it’s a hunderd pages to explain some crappy Deathly Hallow bullcrap. I begin to squirm. This reading experience suddenly seems that it will be like peeping tomming at Curves-not as cool as you’d think.

“Dobby? What the hell? Alright! Hermione’s gettin’ tortured sweet! Fight at Hogwarts! Sweet! Awww, nothing cool happens. Harry’s gonna die! Sweet! Awww, crap.”

I read that Harry Potter can’t be killed by Voldemort anyway because of 14 different convoluted reasons some of which involve Deathly Hallows or something. All of this is as exciting as finding out why you can’t return items bought at the dollar store.

“I’m sure something cool will happen! There’s only a few pages left. Awww, crap. Oooh! An Epilogue! I’ll find out what all the kids are like in the future! Hmmm, Hermione still has no real personality, Ron Weasley is a dumbass, and Harry Potter has no personality but is somehow quietly wise and has a buttload of kids. Crap. Maybe it’ll say what Harry’s up to-is he in the Ministry, a Quiddich player? An Auror? Awww, crap.”

I find that J.K. Rowling is indeed the worst author ever who writes out her ass and who has not only no sense of what makes a good book, but doesn’t ask someone who might know to help her. She can’t even take the chance to decide what the main characters of her book do as adults…Becuase, most likely, she doesn’t know either. Just as it seems she had no idea what to do with her series, she had no idea of how to end it.

I close the book and feel dirty and used.

I rewrite the book in my mind where Dobby and Hermione end up together in a lobby firm for elf rights, Ron Weasley is a full blown bigot, and Harry Potter raises his family quietly in the forbidden forest.

One last unimportant thought about an unimportant book flashes in my mind… “How in the hell will this ever be made into a movie when the main characters are either invisible or Polyjuiced to look like someone else for 90% of the goddam story?”

Ryan McGivern, proud Muggle and bonafide hater.

GroverAre you a student in grades Kindergarten through 12 looking for only the finest public education available? Then consider Cleveland County Schools in beautiful North Carolina.

Cleveland County makes other county schools look downright pathetic. Take Grover Elementary School as an example: We’re named after Super Grover, people. If that’s not a ‘10′ on the ‘cool school meter’, we don’t know what is.

Some county schools may say: “Come learn from us!” Not us. Here in Cleveland County, we say: “Let’s have a learn-tastic dance party!” We see our students as our equals. In some school districts, if a second grader was to walk into class and say: “I want to create world peace.” the school district would scoff in their cherubic face. Not Cleveland County Schools.

We’d begin a hunger strike until world peace was created.

We’ve got a lot of pride in our schools. Shelby High School is like Mount Olympus, filled with gods to be worshipped. Burns Middle School is like Ben and Jerry’s “Everything But The…” Ice Cream: more awesome than the best dream fantasy conjured by a magical unicorn princess.

That’s right. A magical unicorn princess. Top that, Gaston County!

With all the voices of public education vying for your allegiance, it can be hard to make the School District choice that’s right for you. So, let’s make this real easy. Here’s a list of some of the features Cleveland County Schools will bring you:

  1. We’ve got our eye on that bully.
  2. We can guarantee that our libraries will have at least one Harry Potter book available at all times.
  3. Diorama-mania!
  4. Cleveland County Schools, as of the last inspection, are completely poltergeist free.
  5. Crest High School football team. ‘Nuff said.

Wherever you do decide to receive your public school education, we wish you the best. Seriously. Good luck to you. Just don’t come crawling back to us when you won’t be accepted at Duke and end up at some dump like Emory.

Ryan McGivern

Me: www.myspace.com/mckibbon
Best School District Ever: http://www.clevelandcountyschools.org/
Best Ice Cream Ever: http://www.calorie-count.com/calories/item/52550.html
Unicorns (magical, princess, and other): http://www.unicornmuseum.org/
Crest Football Schedule: http://www.clevelandcountyschools.org/schools/chs/fbv.asp
Super Grover: http://youtube.com/watch?v=ieO8MGbZgU8

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