The black-eyed peas aren't working...

Chaos Theory is a neat concept and one I am inclined to believe. If you trace any occurrence back far enough you can find its point of origin. The genesis of any disaster can be discovered if you look hard enough.

...New Year's Eve - 2008

My band is a couple hours from downbeat at the Dead Dog Barn, a quaint little dig in the outskirts of Dallas on a few acres of untilled farmland. Now, I am not the most social of folk so I usually skip out on these beer soaked raunch-fests and retreat to the comfy confines of my truck. There I watched my all time favorite movie: Edward Scissorhands. Not long after the roll of the end credits we welcomed in the New Year with some blazing thrash metal.

Good times.

The next day at work (January 1st) my co-workers decided to eat some black-eyed peas, which is some sort of superstitious social protocol that I was never aware of, and feeling sporty I joined in. I hate beans and never eat them so I had to force down one bean with a fistful of ham. Yum.

Luck ensues...

...January 10th. 8:50pm.

We pizza dudes make most of our money in the tips from our customers. When you deliver a pie and do not receive a gratuity, you refer to that transaction, or lack there of, as a "stiff." Thus far the week had seen a myriad of stiffs, and a myriad of frowns by me. You see, I am saving money for my first HDTV and desperately need money. My customers don't seem to share that desperation. Foolish mortals.

On a routine run to a nifty little squat known as "Sotogrande" I experience none other than my first mugging. Well, my first mugging while on the job. Not so "grande" if you ask me. I was accosted by three black males and one black female. They hit me in the face from behind with some sort of blunt weapon and tried to drag me into an alcove to further punish me for not being them. Unfortunately for those ruffians I don't go down that easily.

After a brief tussle I dramatically brandished a shiny pocket knife and sent them running. They tried to get my money but all they managed was a ruined order of pepperoni pizza and a close shave. Those meanies.

A majority of the rest of the night was spent riding around with police detectives, knocking on doors, checking back alleys, and keeping a watchful eye out for those worthless dregs that robbed me. This, of course, prematurely ended my night of tip gathering and in effect cost me money. My first HDTV is that much farther away now. Thanks.

Oh yeah, I had a busted up face too. My lips were cut open, bleeding, and so swollen I couldn't close my mouth.

I would have loved to write about it on this groovy little blog, but my computer is now in Davey Jones’ Locker. Luckily, I managed to borrow a compute just long enough for this entry.

In the wake of this beautiful chaos I follow the source of the ripples and it leads me back to the black-eyed pea I ate Jan. 1st. You see, I had never eaten them before. This is what I get for being willing to try new things. My parents gave me guff my whole life for not eating a well balanced meal. Now look what happens. Goodness me.

Love,
SG

:)

Cave Drawings

Pizza delivery is an interesting job. It affords one much time to sit and think as you drive about town. It also introduces you to many a strange and peculiar folk. As you can well imagine delivery experts such as I have seen just about all there is to be seen. I've been witness to filthy houses, naked people, attacking dogs, angry customers, and just about everything else you can and can't expect. In short order I developed a detachment wherein I slip into an almost zombie-like state of routine while working. Since surprises are now rare to me I exist in this almost dream-like state for 6-8 hours a day. This allows me time to focus brain power on more important issues such as: video games, remembering my name, remembering to blink, writing lyrics, and so on. Occasionally, though, some newly introduced stimuli will snap me out of my happy place just long enough to bake my noodle over something else for a minute or two.

And so it was I came upon a curious bit of art.

I was standing in the cold outside a customer's doorway, waiting on them to find money, when I beheld the crude scribbling of children's crayon drawings scrawled across said customer's living room walls. For a mere instance a part of me wanted to dismiss this is nothing important, but something about the drawings made we wonder. You see, the dark green lines etched on the living room walls depicted, much to the dismay of the parents I'm sure, a scene of animals and people. Considering the age of the child, the fact that you or I could easily identify these drawings as animals and people I find to be quite remarkable. Usually, child wall drawings are nothing more than chaotic lines with no semblance of forethought, symmetry, or pattern. Was I in the presence of a future Michelangelo? Would the art of this child live on as long as Brueghal's angelic rebels? Will this child construct a triptych to someday find its way onto the wall of a church ala' Bosch?

I thought to myself while blankly staring at the art, "Could this be more of an insight into human history?" Perhaps it shouldn't be the future, but rather, the past I should contemplate.

This bit of art certainly had more in common with simple cave drawings than that of a grandiose chapel fresco. Furthermore, this line of thinking led me to consider, could we be wrong about what our cave dwelling ancestors left sketched on the walls of their living spaces? What if cave art was merely the aftermath of pre-historic children misbehaving and drawing on their walls?! If so, then what we once thought was a story of a god offering his people rain was really nothing more than a spank inducing act that led to a bone club beat down.

Perhaps we have looked too long and hard at that which was left behind. Sometimes we try to attach an overblown and overly grand meaning to simple pointless things.

Could it be Egyptian hieroglyphics were nothing more than punishment imposed on an incorrigible Egyptian youth? He or she was simply writing over and over again a story of what he or she did wrong and why they will never do it again, like a school child upon a chalkboard.

Just think about how truly primitive writing with chalk on a blackboard is anyway. Are we really that removed from the ways of the ancients?

Love,
Smiley Grimm

:)

Meet the Beezleboss!

This is not the greatest blog in the world. This is just a tribute. For you see, my other bloggerific, which was in fact the greatest blog in the world, was deleted. I felt the world was not ready for such greatness, thus I threw the kill-switch. So reconfigure, realign, readjust your orbital-optico photo-receptacles, and say hello to the Beezleboss.


"Hello..."


//This goggled construct consists primarily of organic parts. Such a shame the genetic make-up is not without flaws, though, a bald man holding the keys to the universe is probably not poster worthy. Mental copy initiated. Id transfer commencing. Download complete. Reroute to remain. Primary systems online. Sub-routines below optimal. Trigger volume set for ghost processes.//xx


Twenty-eight Earth orbits, each packed with stories to share, equal my time on this sphere. The weekday routine consists of pizza delivery followed by creative output. Eating is optional. Non-work days are filled with void and vegetative states. Eating is still optional. Attention deficit dictates prolonged participation in many simultaneous activities and projects. Most of which are never completed nor abandoned. Because of this I never really know what I am about to do or do I know what I am currently doing. This leads to much frustration amongst my friends and loved ones. I am a mental vagabond. An activity gypsy. Beats being bored.



//Nerotransmitter Stimuli (Serotonin, Dopamine, etc..)

• Bass Guitar: training began at age 13.
• Heavy Metal Band: has performed before live audiences since age 17.
• Video Games: birth to present. Subject boasts an impressive Gamerscore and game completion percentage.
• Reading: from sci-fi to fantasy and everything in between, with emphasis on ancient history.
• Writing: creative, with subjects as varied as reading interests. The gammat of love and war.

[Analysis:] Pavlovian Responses.//xx

Anyway, for my own amusement I shalt catalog what I will when I will. This is an exercise in mental acuity, finger nimbility, and writing prowess for the long cold space flights ahead.

Now pay tribute.



Yours,
Smiley Grimm

:)