I'm going through a few changes on the website, some links may be broken, some may not. If you notice anything that doesn't work, send me an e-mail at pyrochemist@pyrochemist.com. As well, if you didn't know, @Home e-mail is going the way of the dodo for us Rogers customers, so watch for my @home.com address to change to @rogers.com shortly.

Pisses me off how people start off with the intentions of doing things right, and then slowly the truth comes out and it is all nothing what was expected. I quit. I think I hit a low point in my career on Thursday, coupled with the giddiest opportunity to leave that current work place. Needless to say, my mind was completely distracted from doing a task which I had no want to do. It got to the point where I just didn't care to judge if what my bosses wanted me to do was wise for the company, and when they asked me to be that guy, to spam ICQ users with their web address.... I just said Yup, and did it. I hate those people that send porn adds to me, only trying to make me pay for something I don't need. Grrrr, and now, I've been that person. Weee. Grrr. Weee. Grrr. On a positive note, something I had started at my old company, with my old boss, has kind of started up again, and the potential to work on that again has arisen. So many ideas that I repressed from the past, all amazing things to make someone giddy with making them go into action. Woohooo... grrr...woohooo...grrr I don't have that job yet, I'll keep ya posted.

I know, grim writing, but its in my head, I'm writing a story. A story to end all stories. They also said that the Great War (WWI) was supposed to be the war to end all wars. So I more than likely am wrong on that statement about ending all stories.

[continued : slumber of the spirit within]
A look left, a look right, the realization that the exit was where she first looked. Bags in hand, book stowed away, she makes her trek towards the safety of home. Climbing up the stairs, her legs with enough energy to glide her up to the awaiting outdoors. As the train leaves, it creates a vacuum in the platform she just left and sucks the warm air from the surface down into the tunnels. It's surprising, as it has been typically cold these past few days, the warmth reminds her of the first days of summer, despite the looming cold of winter coming in. She smiles with the welcome feeling of comfort that the wind brings, takes the last few steps out of the subway and heads towards home, smiling, and comfortable.
-------
The bar is full, a rowdy bunch of drinkers has filled this establishment tonight. Not a destructive rowdy, but loud, enjoyable rowdy, and not a single person is not enjoying themselves. The subway that just left shook the lights a little, the power dipped causing the lights to dim a little. Some drunken fool, a frequent drinker at this watering hole starts chiming loudly to a tune which takes a few bars for people to realize what he is singing. The odd binger joins in self-perceptive harmonic tune, and the song dies off as the delay in drinks separates the words they all attempt to spew out. With timing only found in unexpected scenarios, the chatter in the entire bar reaches that unique lull, silence takes a sweep across each individual as if trying to do a wave at a baseball game. A scream, very sharp, almost a yelp, comes muffled through the panes of glass and spaces in the doors leading outside. One or two patrons turn their head in the direction of the acoustic bite, but most simply assume it is a partier in a spat with another partier outside in an alley beside the bar. Status quo of parties have dulled their concerns, and they all resume to their consumption.
-------
"So pretty." A subtle voice speaks, hiding intentions that have already been assumed by the one person who fears them.
"P.. Please, just take what you want and go, please, they're all just objects... just take them and go." She stutters, in a futile attempt to divert his task at hand.
"Objects, objects of my affection. I don't want what is in your bags. I want YOU!" With the timing written through years of fermented torment in his mind, he lunges forward, his arm clasping the burlap bag, and launching it into the distance. A yelp in hopes to pull a unconcerned drunken fool from the bar around the corner escapes her mouth as her eyes close in fear. Her bag lands, she can see it in her mind, despite her eyelids hiding reality from her. All of her attention is focused on her bag. The chocolate coated candies which she was enjoying earlier, spew out of the bag, a reaction from the impact of landing after accelerating across the alley she now finds herself in. Time slows for her, she's savoring every moment of diversion from what is about to happen to her. She can see the book, worn from repeated attempts to re-read the same page, interrupted by subway stops, chocolate, and her distracting mind. It flops open, the hard covers splitting the book to the current page, which pinched her tickets. The warm wind which she had embraced only moments earlier, blows in and takes hold of her hopes, the books grasp on the dreams is not strong enough, and her lottery tickets flutter out into the wind. She remembers how she felt when she bought those tickets. The assumptions of freedom from her financial restrictions, possibly leading her to finding the man who would change her life. Instead, she finds one, but not for what she assumed. This one, is not for her benefit, but entirely for his.

Sitting there, in the back of the alley, alone, dark, waiting for the next day to come, despite the hatred of yesterdays tomorrow. Some people call him a bum, a transient, a dependent on society. He once was called dad, hubby, and Sean. Now, everyone is gone, no one remembers the names that related to his existence. No need for them any more, he just purely exists, that is all that matters. A scent of chocolate awakens something inside him. It draws his attention to the source of the sweet, enticing aroma. He sees the chocolate rolling from a bag, as the burlap slowly compresses from the fall and gravity pulling it down. With the hint of where the bag came from, he cocks his head, twisting it towards the direction of the chaos at the opening of the alley. Standing up, the weight on his shoulders from many nights like these shows his strength, and his burden, as he takes a slow, slightly unbalanced stance.
The dominance in the air distracts the rapist, as he looks into the depths of this cavern he now is in. Pausing, out of shock of what the rapist sees, the movement towards him suddenly puts fear into his every bone, and is slowly escaping from the victim who has now passed out. This silent individual saviour makes quick of the idiot-rapist for pushing himself and his view on the world onto a hapless victim.
Looking down at his hands, the hero of this moment realizes he has done it again. Made a victim of the oppressor, and left himself wallowing in the repeated use of his power. Only thing he can do is take solace in the innocence that has been pulled back from disaster. At least the rapist didn't go all the way, only a concussion on her head and a bruise on her soft rosy cheek. Picking her up in his arms of swollen muscle, she lays limp, no energy in her legs any more, no gliding up stairs, and he carries her to the hospital. The semantics of the nurses and doctors duties pass quickly in a blur of time. The staff there are sympathetic to his efforts and let him stay the night and clean up some.
Standing at the doorway to her room of safety, he looks in and sees her covered in hospital bed sheets, in a hospital gown, soaking in this hospital smell, and eerily, fitting into this hospital scene. He can slowly see himself falling into thoughts he desperately wants to avoid -- "Sean honey, come to bed dear." -- and snaps himself out of the drudge after a reminder of what happened in the past. She's so silent, so quiet. The bruise is fading away slowly, he can see that now. Her chest slowly raising and lowering, he watches the bed sheets that fall to the floor raise up and down with the tug of her lungs taking in more air. Slowly, he follows the oxygen, across her lips, through her nose, and into her lungs. Caressing the hairs inside, depositing the energy, and leaving with the waste. Back outside in the hospital scent room, he realizes he did it again, the thoughts are taking over. With a brief huff, exhausting the air he was holding back, and a stroke of a freshly shaved chin, he twists his torso and lets the lower half follow him in exit to the rest of the world. Another alley to sleep in tonight, another alley to hide from the thoughts, another alley to sink away, and not be bothered again.
[more later]

What do you do with a drunken sailor?
What do you do with a drunken sailor?
What do you do with a drunken sailor --
Earlie in the morning?

[slumber of the spirit within]
Settling down for another ride home. Weary bones resting with her weight concentrated on her rear. Overstuffed bags weighing her down, black fleece trench coat disguising her form. Ears pierced with symmetry, hair chaotically pulled back in a brown plastic clamp. Impatience sets in, she searches through her bag for something to occupy. A play thing, a cell phone, a PDA, finally, a book. Finding that page where she left off, booked marked by hope, and expectations, two lottery tickets flutter down from their pinched hold of her current obsession. A spasm flinch grasping the two sources of a days anticipation, their safety returned in a place out of the way to allow her to read some more of the story that is unfolding. The words captivate, but not enough, more is needed. She puts the book down briefly, and rummages through her bloated burlap bag, one hand searching the other holding the book closed and in place. More effort is required, both hands are now occupied by the search, deeper digging. A piece of morsel is obtained, she slides it past her lips. With a few compressions of her molars, the chocolate coated nut breaks and is swallowed. Reading continues and one hand freely pops another chocolate goodness in her mouth. The air starts filling with a cocoa scent as the air passing out her nose picks up scents from the chocolate coating the back of her throat. A brief look up with a hint of instinct, her stop is here. A scurry to get off, stuffing the bag with the book, no time to close the bag of chocolate bits. [more later]

An update for any of you that have been following my nightmare ... saga.
The reason for the nightmare, I am unsure of. The same one repeating every night.
The only thing I have come to realize so far, is that there is a dream preceding the nightmare.
I suspect, assume, that the nightmare is protecting me in some way, by making me forget the dreams details, the dreams entirety.
Possibly because I'm not ready for it, the meaning of the dream.
The next time I get a glimpse of the dream, I think I'll have enough to write something on it.

Damnit, I had the feeling to write, something good too (in my mind), and blogger was down... now its up, and ... *unf*

"Its difficult to see the forest through the trees."
What if you are a tree?
How would you know what a forest is?
How would you know what a tree is?
Your leaves are falling again.
What would the sun and rain be to your if you were a tree?
The recycled nutrients that fall to the ground and feed you, what are they?

Just call me a BLOG whore. I can't believe i wrote that much last night, despite my 'inability to write'. It was not what I wanted to write, it was just ramblings. I'm a little unhappy with how today started, power was out...slept in....phone was disconnected...no wake up call... Good side to it, i got to see some old MSN people from the times I spent online during the middle of the day, instead of the wee hours of the morning. Hi everyone.

As you may or may not have realized, you can now comment (live-ish) on my blogs. Just click on Comment below, or on the number beside Comment to view other responses.
M@/Py

Yesterday, I went to bed at this time; nearing six in the morning and one of my roommates is about to get up, hit the shower, and as promptly as possible, exit to the bus stop. I'll sleep long enough to be disturbed by my mind, then again by the traffic of one parting, and another watching television. 9am I'll be awake after the subtle discovery of another night of little sleep. I try, trust me I do. Funny thing is, I'll see people to bed, and i'll see them to rise. They wonder when I sleep. Never really. The newspaper is late again... or they just have a new schedule for the past year.

impatience
MSN : 9 online / 96 offline
AOL & YIM : 0 online / 1 offline
ICQ : 13 online / 313 offline
Obviously, ICQ I've had the longest, MSN has the most burst of new users, AOL and YIM.... sadly... are requirements for two non-conformist-freaks, of which I am required to stay in contact with; for the time being.

On a more personal note, I'd like to say Hi to my little bro Nicholas. Living' it up large in beautiful Clearwater Florida. So warm there, despite his assumption that it is cold. Its quite relative, weather that is, much like everything, relativity. He's quite the smart one, its not just the ability to play video games, or have conversations with individuals that are at least two decades older than he is. Simply, it's his ability to grasp concepts which may take longer for others to comprehend. He can catch on while others are still asking questions. He wraps his mind around things which others can only box themselves into misunderstanding. Bro, I love you, keep your head up high, and the rest of your body following.

Hey you there,
with those sexy feathers.
I just love the way your beak shines in the sun.
Care to take a swim with me across this placid lake?
I know this quiet little cove where we can have some good times.
I have these bread crumbs, if you want a nice picnic on a lily pad.
Now we have these little ones, and we have so many to take care of.
(notice how my sentences are getting longer with each return? odd..)
Hey, they're cute, they follow you too. They're hungry and want some food.
The bread crumb supply has run short, those big things are on vacation from the sun.
I wish they wouldn't collect in that big duck. He's so loud, and makes waves in our home.
Look at our little ones, they look like the first few lines of this post. All starting over again. Recursion. (amazing, I did this post without one spelling error! BW[oo]P!)

recursion---
I fear it
it will come
again this night
the torture begins
awake with thoughts
vivid as life
tortured as sin
grasping at air
loss from within
grip slipping away
reality sets in
heart beat decreases
longing over develops
head turns searching
search of something
resolution is bleak
finding the void
discovery of emptiness
discovery of loneliness
discovery of bed
discovery of pillow
back to rest
subconscious takes over
again into slumber

This food?
Nah.
Where is it, this same?
There it iss.
--flutter--
move it, thats it..
FOOOOOOD!
crack open, dammit, get open---
aaah
okey
i'm done
hey, a place to sit!
fly.....
gone

Its not all that simple, unless it is done right. My complaints of technology; however it is usually created for a general need, and not a specific one. I guess, I'll have to accept that the lowest common denominator for the given price point. Why can't it just work? Why can't it just fix itself? Why does everyone else ask me to fix it, get it done? Damn it, mebby because I keep on fixing it, keep on getting it done. I should fuck up one of these days just to get them off my back, just for a moment of relaxation, and a moment of weakness.
The worst thing a leader can ever do, is admit they don't have the answers.

This isn't making much sense right now, delirium has set in. Another night of being up too late, and needing to be up too early. They say it is burning the candle at both ends. I have no wick. They say I'll make myself sick, my mind is already a wasteland. They say that I'll end up hurting myself, but the wounds are already too deep.

It is all truly simple. Complications are made of circumstance and investigation.
Its not terribly confusing. Try placing yourself in the mindset you were in grade 4, learning : reading, writing and arithmetic. Possibly some complex math depending on your countries lessons. Regardless, think of how it was difficult for you to learn the stuff that they taught at the end of the year.... it was out of your grasp. Now think, if you were in grade 4, and had been asked to learn quantum physics, or linear algebra. Or how to edit text to avoid a dangling participle.
ANYWAY, the point is, that everything can be made simple. Take it from the beginning,and realize the simple objective.
I need to get to point Z I'm at point A in the Greek alphabet... how do I get there?
You just do.

Lately I have asked a question of a few individual people. It's a very thought provoking question, a warming question if you let yourself believe in the answer for the time being. The steps are as follows....
Before heading off to bed, or at a time when you are contemplative, relaxed, or meditating, put yourself into a dark place, free from any outside influence... not scary dark, just simply absent from light, substance, and influence.
In your mind, open your arms, and extend your hands in the anticipation of accepting something.
This something can be physical, metaphysical, just an 'it' or just a feeling.
Now, embrace this thing, close your arms around it, and take it in.. just for this night. Accept it into your life and let it exist in your mind & heart.
Tomorrow, when you wake, remember what it was, so that you can figure out a way to obtain this object of your attention.
The question is, what is _it_?

Oddly, I still have this fascination to write something, anything. However it seems that most of my 'ingenuity' is being spent on conversations with others rather than mindless thought of my own.

one religion to bring them all together,
one religion to make them fall aside,
one religion to make them believe,
in one big empty lie.

Context is a funny thing. Try removing yourself from it sometime.

Sleep.
Most of you have a difficult time comprehending my lack of sleep.
At times, you'll see me here writing, or on one of many IM's (Yahoo, ICQ, MSN, AIM, Jabber) at hours of which I should be sleeping.
I don't know how I do it, but the thing that mainly keeps me alive and kicking is my mind.
Conversations, Caffeine, Obligations and more add to the ability to never sleep.
Many times you will hear me say, I'll sleep when I'm dead.
And now I yawn.

An excerpt from the whiteboard entertainment; message left to my roommates after going food shopping. Don't want the food to go bad ya know.

---

We have excess potatoes and tomatoes to eat;
so lets eat them up like fish heads. YUM
then we'll be able to call the whole thing off.
yes. IAMWEIRD - M@

---

Now, the question at hand? Why did I care to share that? That, we'll never know.

The feeling of a need to write has hit me; however my mind has so many thoughts right now, most of which are needing to be filtered. Thus.... stifled. So much to think, and write of, but so little time and comprehension of those ideas. I wish it would all just come out and make a profound statement so I can understand what it all means. The river of thoughts slowly creeps out, one droplet at a time. All I see is erosion from the water dripping slowly onto the world that is supposed to contain the destructive thoughts. If I wrote this in Word, I bet that sentence would have a green underline under it. Run on sentence, fragment, consider rewriting. So I reconsider, and now I realize it didn't make sense... and you don't even see the original green sentence. I guess the drips, are better than a flood, many people would be destroyed by a onslaught of water. Just look at what happens when one falls into the water from high above... like hitting a brick wall. Goose died, but that was because of a concussion, it wasn't Mavericks fault.

"...Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids playing some game in in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going. I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."