How excited am I??? NO REALLY???? Serious...YEAAAAH

The true random numbers are generated using atmospheric noise which for many purposes is better than the pseudo-random numbers typically generated by computer programs. If you want to know more, read the introduction to randomness and random numbers or go back to the www.random.org main page. Note that each number is picked independently of the others (like dice rolls), and a sequence of numbers may therefore contain duplicates. If you want numbers without duplicates (like drawing lottery tickets out of a hat), try the sequence generator. If you're interested in random bytes (rather than integers in configurable intervals) check out the byte generator which lets you generate up to 16 kilobytes random bytes in one go.

84 10 15 61 71
24 12 99 80 12
39 93 37 28 78
10 58 65 24 4
26 89 44 6 32
1 30 81 35 66
63 37 21 55 55
50 54 54 93 66
82 84 93 79 79
28 58 1 43 90
43 63 28 7 12
5 4 59 81 30
94 95 13 81 19
89 67 30 50 97
90 14 11 74 29
85 74 27 93 85
57 35 39 71 17
28 90 99 28 91
37 92 37 34 74
20 88 59 48 48

Igor the Chemist...

Dear HoodedBuddha,

Although I can't BELIEVE you've never seen it, and although I've been wandering around the office doing the "Frankensteen? No Frankenstein...Froedrich? No Fredrick? You must be Igor, no it's Egor" in preparation for Igor the Chemist and NO ONE KNEW WHAT THE HELL I WAS TALKING ABOUT and no one let on, (not even JEAN! who knows when no one else knows)...and until I can organize a 511 movie night where we watch it, I have selected some of my favourite clips for your viewing pleasure...

l,
Mother T.





And of course...

to sleep, perchance to die....

who needs sleep?
"when you're in an insomniac, you're never ever fully awake or asleep: --fight club

It's been like ohhhhhh I dunno 16 years, which clearly clearly clearly falls into the one month thing. It's as if I can't turn my brain OFF or once OFF it is terrified it's gonna miss something and turn the fuck back on. Barb says I'm not supposed to check my blackberry when this happens. I can't say I didn't check it, but I can say I didn't write back. So that's progress.

There are many many others I know, insomnia seems to be a disposition of us artsy fartsy literary types...too freakin anxious to get to sleep, too freakin anxious to stay asleep, and sometimes I'm so anxious I worry I'm never ever going to sleep like I should or used to sleep again. Ever.

It's like twice as many women suffer from insomnia. And I swear to you there have been three significant men in my life (which may be indicative of too many supposedly significant men in my life and perhaps solves the whole "why dont I sleep?" problem right there) who I ended up essentially living with for both a short-ish time and a long-ish time...I suppose a long time if you count the ongoing mental effects of the whole thing...who complained and complained about NOT sleeping, and upon sleeping WITH them, they would fall asleep like freakin babies and me wandering around eating bread with honey, and warm milk and honey and meditating and switching my placement in the bed so my head was NORTH facing listening to relaxing music OOOHHHHH I even had one of those soothing noise makers by the bed that like made the sound of lightening and waves and a heartbeat (FREAKY) and calming music....ANYWAY so I'd um "sleep" with these guys who would POOF fall asleep immediately after, and the first few times I'd think, well if I can make a chronic insomniac sleep I'm either WAAAAAAAY good or WAAAAAAAY bad. Turns out, after spending a couple more nights with them (YEARS, and a couple visits to "Sleep Clinics" and "Sleep Specialists" with THEM for THEM) that in reality my performance or lack thereof was absolutely NOT indicative of their ability or inability to sleep because they slept ALL THE TIME. I would be awake all night WATCHING them freakin SLEEP all night. So although I will thank Carl to death for allowing me to take with my boxes of books and unfortunate outfits when I left, his entire supply of Ambien, I also want to make the point that the only thing more frustrating about NOT sleeping or waking up at 2am and NOT sleeping are people who INSIST they are insomniacs and don't sleep...and upon further investigation...sleep like fuckin babies everytime their head hits a dull surface.

I used to do all the stuff they tell you. Aromatherapy (the little liquid dispenser you rub all over your forehead and crap)...meditation (I like my thoughts, this is rather the problem, I am AFRAID of clearing my head and losing all thought processes so this is really counter-productive isn't it? Why people insist on telling insomniacs, who as far as I'm concerned are the anxious of the anxious to clear their minds of thoughts is beyond me), Herbs (the pillow stuffed with lavender and sage), "make your bed just for sleeping" (Bullshit! But allowed for some of the most creative and illegal spots to do other things generally done in bed...) No caffeine, no nicotine, no sugar hours before bed...EVERYTHING. And honestly, it's 330, I've been up since 130, I have to get up for work in like 4 hours...I'm now going to go to my little black and white kitchen, and I am going to make myself a cup of tea of my choice, because I think, not being able to sleep is bad enough...but if I want a fuckin cup of tea at this point, I'm gonna have one. And suffer tomorrow I will but I will regardless, at the very least I can have my tea, my honey and my Atwood for a couple hours before the bitchiness sets in.

INSOMNIACS UNITE!

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders, 4th Edition (DSM-IV),[21] a diagnosis of primary insomnia may be assigned if the difficulty persists for at least 1 month; causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of function; and is not associated with other specific medical, psychiatric, or medication-related conditions. The clinical severity of insomnia is determined by the frequency, duration, and effect on daytime functioning.
As specified by the International Classification of Sleep Disorders,[22] which has a more detailed diagnostic scheme for sleep disorders than the DSM-IV, contains a few diagnostic entities which correspond to the DSM-IV diagnosis of primary insomnia. These include:


Adjustment sleep disorder. This common disorder is caused by acute emotional stressors such as a job loss or hospitalization. The result is an insomnia, typically a difficulty in falling asleep, mediated through tension and anxiety. Symptoms usually remit shortly following the abatement of the stressors. Treatment is warranted if daytime sleepiness and fatigue interfere with functioning or if the disorder lasts for more than a few weeks. Treatment modalities are similar to those outlined for psychophysiological insomnia (see below).

Psychophysiological insomnia. Insomnia characterized by somatized tension and learned sleep-preventing associations that result in difficulty sleeping and decreased functioning during wakefulness. After a few nights of insomnia, the bedroom becomes psychologically associated with not sleeping. Therefore, as bedtime approaches, anxiety increases and reaches maximum intensity after retiring. Patients develop anticipatory anxiety over the prospect of another night of sleeplessness followed by another day of fatigue. Sufferers often spend hours in bed awake focused on and brooding over their sleeplessness, which in turn aggravates their insomnia even further. Persistent psychophysiological insomnia often complicates other insomnia disorders.Treatment of this condition is usually comprised of judicious use of hypnotic agents combined with behavioral modalities, described more fully below

Insomnia associated with medical and psychiatric conditions. Causes of insomnia can include chronic pain, Parkinson's and other neurodegenerative diseases, gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD), congestive heart failure, upper airway allergies, and asthma.[1,3,23] Medications or substances commonly associated with insomnia include stimulants, steroids, caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, stimulating antidepressants (eg, fluoxetine, bupropion), theophylline, lamotrigine, felbamate , beta-blockers, and beta-agonists.[1,3,24] Withdrawal from sedative agents may also provoke insomnia.[1]

In certain settings, insomnia is categorized based on symptomatic presentation. One such method uses the phase of the sleep cycle that is most profoundly affected (ie, sleep-onset and sleep-maintenance types). Such a distinction may be clinically useful in making treatment determinations (ie, whether to target the beginning or end of night with a hypnotic agent.[22] Insomnia can also be symptomatically categorized on the basis of duration, such as the distinction between acute and chronic insomnia, although there is some variability in the terminology used. For example, acute insomnia may be defined as insomnia that lasts for 1 month or less, subacute insomnia may be defined as insomnia that persists for longer than 1 month but less than 6 months, and chronic insomnia may be defined as insomnia that has a duration of 6 months or longer.[22] On the other hand, insomnia may not affect patients on a nightly basis but can have an intermittent pattern, affecting patients on certain nights and not others. In this case, acute insomnia may be defined as periods of sleep difficulty lasting between 1 night and a few weeks; chronic insomnia may be defined as sleep difficulty at least 3 nights per week for 1 month or more.[3]

Regardless of the definition used, many regard longer-term insomnias as being related to more serious, underlying, conditions such as depressive disorders or medical conditions. Longer-term insomnias that occur on a nightly basis may deserve, therefore, greater medical diagnostic scrutiny. On the other hand, short-term insomnias, especially those that are intermittent and occur only on certain nights and not others, may be more likely to be responsive to behavioral modifications and judicious use of hypnotic agents.

What I want to say is this...(although I'm not sure what I'm TRYING to say...but I know...I'm kinda saying something....)

an outstretched hand is enveloped in white latex, made in a factory far from here made in a factory as poor as here made in a factory with dirt floors and milk crates that the workers sit on or sprawl on their hunches like prehistoric man or animals or mananimals its hard to tell made in a place far from here like here and where is Michael Foucault when we need him? mass thoughts and insights into knowledge and punishment centuries ago the limbs of men were torn off attached to a rope attached to a horse ripping away their flesh and bones cnn continues their reports in Kabul continues their reports for guantanamo bay continues the news reel clips and flashes of bruised limbs and solitary confinement their eyes emerging with hate and dark and dampness staring into the eye of the camera and span across TVs into our living rooms for a look for looks for insights to send back home and where is Karl Popper when we need him? where are the refutations and confrontations and the uninhibited world wide knowledge that nothing changes and all is the same and history repeats itself right down to the weather cloud and cloudless skies across the world as mao tse tong wakes up to his morning saucer of water and green tea leaves where is Che Guevara when we need him? the endnote speaks of a change of shape or a repetition of the epistemological root of all words regarding weather of all words connecting the fiber of every time span in the world together and going back and I wander the streets of new york who once wandered the streets of east vancouver who once wrote words of east vancouver now will only go back to east vancouver and in going back there is much missing the weather reports don’t have shit in east vancouver who’s only weather is one of rain whose only season is one of rain who’s only memory for those who leave is the memory of coming back backpack filled with reports and insights into the past that should progress into the future but nothing about going back all the texts, the rhythm, the broadcasts are brought back and reformatted to fit into a time frame far from today far from this side of the world. Where’s Jorge Luis Borges when we need him? the reports have shit on east vancouver the reports speak nothing of the reputation of east vancouver full of whores and crack pipes falling into ditches to be carried downstream into the english bay away from today from the eventual rain that always falls there are no weather reports on the blow job given against lampposts on west hastings. Where is Walter Benjamin when we need him? and his arcades of mechanical reproduction when we need him? reports and insights and historical accuracies mechanically reproduced and forgotten as quickly as the weather from day to day dew drop to dew drop there are no weather reports on the poverty the escapes promised with the hope of a brighter day the greatest minds of my generation are locked inside non-reports of weatherless skies no weather reports explain going back no one remembers going back they only ever remember needing to return with expectations and explorations insinuations no one remembers the weather of the place they leave but they always always always remember the weather on the day they go back...

i didnt know

you knew you needed me
you knew you loved me
you knew you were
one and me
until you slid
your hand out of
my hand
and hid between dance floor
and broken beer glass
and some girl you knew
before

and my feet boun boun
bounced to the beat
perversely behind each
bass drum reverberation

- thats not the right word
not the one i'm looking for -

vibrations

ear ringing and mov mov
moving away into the crowd
that isn't there
was never there

my feet uncharacteristically behind
the beat
my pants
too long (always too long)
dragging through the sweat
and sticky beerness of the floor

moving forward in time
my feet characteristically
in time to the beat
back to
you.

Flight of the Concords (See Below)...

The musical comedy act who, in their own words used to be "New Zealand's 4th most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo". Now they are "the almost award-winning fourth-most-popular folk duo in New Zealand.".

I don't usually "do" the YouTube posts on here, mostly because I didn't know HOOOOOW but also because i find them kinda relatively boring for the most part but i think that might have been maybe because i didn't know how and i'm kinda bitchy like that sometimes BUT now that I do (whoah)know you will notice three up here...all kinda the same, and all from the same show on the comedy network which is where i stumbled on them...i'm also not terribly into the guitar comedian thing, but these guys just yeaaaaaaahhhhhhhh....way too funny. and because you know me i think you'll know why i think they're so funny...so...enjoy! take a look at the first one but listen to all of it...and tell me it's not one of the funniest things you've ever heard....

Chuck Klosterman...

Do you want to be happy? I suspect that you do. Well, here's the first step to happiness: don't get pissed off that people who aren't you happen to think Paris Hilton is interesting and deserves to be on TV every other day; the fame surrounding Paris Hilton is not a reflection on your life (unless you want it to be). Don't get pissed off because the Yeah Yeah Yeahs aren't on the radio enough; you can buy the goddamn album and play "Maps" all goddamn day (if that's what you want). Don't get pissed off because people didn't vote the way you voted; you knew this was a democracy when you agreed to participate, so you knew this was how things might work out. Basically, don't get pissed off over the fact that the way you feel about culture isn't some kind of universal consensus. Because if you do, you will end up feeling betrayed. And it will be your own fault. You will feel bad, and you will deserve it.

Amen to that.

if i love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries

if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream

if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing

For the HoodedBuddha...

You asked
do you remember when?

and I didn't answer
(not really)

but here it is...

I don't know what direction my life is taking
but am happy and content as long as I know he is walking with, beside, next to me...

so there ya go.

and see i do listen, i just think a lot.

www.postsecret.blogspot.com

More Mercer...Blackberry spoof ad...

And now, for GOB the Rick Mercer one because I know she has no idea who he is, kinda like a Hip thing eh? He cracks me the fuck up...off my chair typa laughin.

And courtesy of GOB (strangely)...kinda the pre Rick Mercer look into American knowledge...or lack thereof...

BrightEyes...I just keep listening and listening and listening and listening...listen for the little drink slurp in the beginning...ahhhhhhhh....for ONCE a video i love love love more or as much as the song....

I Like All Types Of Music

When I go to the mall for music, you won't catch me stuck in just one section of Record Town. That's because I like all kinds of music!

After spending a week in NY, I feel it's time for a little "Americans are different than Canadians (and Russians apparently) because...." and since i've spent inordinate amounts of time in many places in both places...Something Americans (Sorry GOB) will find "interesting" and the rest of us...funny as fuck...

When NASA first started sending up astronauts, they quickly discovered that ball-point pens would not work in zero gravity.
To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and $12 billion developing a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside down, underwater, on almost any surface including glass and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300° C.

The Russians used a pencil.

Enjoy paying your taxes.

i kissed you never so lightly, you said you read it but wasn't sure if you understood...this is so like you i think...insecurity even in my words...

SO

what I meant to say all along...

There is a YOU in every poem.

A SHE HER negatively displayed following one in every 25 YOU poems

A ME in some

An US often

sometimes the YOU is YOU sometimes the YOU is a YOU from before sometimes the YOU is made up sometimes the YOU is me YOU see it’s all very confusing best to not assume any YOU or ME’s or US’s now the US’s see the US’s could be YOU and ME or YOU and someone else or ME and someone else or neither but YOU know who SHE HER is right? Yes yes that is easy for YOU to figure out but perhaps the SHE HER is maybe ME? I feel like SHE HER sometimes…the HE is never you the tense doesn’t support the YOU of YOU…this is true…YOU see it’s all very confusing best not to assume YOU will know YOU when YOU stumble over YOU through MY words YOU see the only way to know the ME and to know the YOU is to stumble about the words written by ME which isn’t a ME through words only a representation of ME because YOU see I am not alive in the words really after being written I am somewhat externalized by the words I don’t die in the words I can write “I die” but I still stand up and walk into the kitchen and drink my tea… some of the words are real words but none of the words hold the real ME in other words YOU will never know the true real ME perhaps between sheets perhaps in vocalization of words but I will tell YOU now the only ME you’re close enough to see is the cut-out figure represented
in WORDS of

ME
and
YOU.










Can YOU get this??

a standing kiss in the river...

Anthropologists have not reached a consensus as to whether kissing is a learned or an instinctive behavior. It may be related to grooming behavior also seen between other animals, or arising as a result of mothers premasticating food for their children. Kissing allows prospective mates to smell and taste each other's pheromones for biological compatibility. Women are subconsciously more attracted to men whose major histocompatibility complex portion of their genome is different than her own, leading to offspring with resistance to a greater number of diseases, and thus having a better chance of survival. [1] [2] [3] This explains why couples are more likely to bond if they have the right "chemistry". Many non-human primates also exhibit kissing behavior.[4]

Bibliophile...

Unlike GOB, I wrote little on the China trip (and should have wrote more!) but found this hiding in the back pages of my documents....so....

(You win...I do miss when you're gone...or i'm gone...(sometimes)...)

I thought I tasted you this morning.

The thought, sensation, taste didn’t register until now. Pushing my way through and amongst the surrounding no one like me mass of people so completely different and separate and not me and not you. I was walking. I walking with my cart broken and wobbling full of inconsequential things, gifts, and I felt so very very fuckin alone. On my way to another plane to another city in the long list of unforgettable forgotten cities. One looks like the next. One becomes the next. There is a merge of cities and merge of experiences between one city and the next between one plane or train and the next. Between one cab ride and the next. Between anytime without you and the next.

The cities and people and rising dim sum steam in the morning all merges together day to day and trip to trip. I’m mixing up the hotel room today with the one in a different city 3 years ago. I’m mixing up the yellow stained faucet in the tub 2 days ago to the one I smashed the heel of my right foot into 2 months ago. It all merges. It all fucks together, two lovers and not a tube of lube in sight to split, clip flick them out of each other, heaving and panting and unable to benefit from a union that becomes completely inseparable

I am

Inseparable from you and forced to be separated from you for far far far too long and I hate this. I want to go home

And I have never even had a home. Rambling from one man to the next rambling from one life to the next I can’t stop I won’t stop I don’t settle down and this lifestyle all of this I was pressured forced into choosing I don’t even know if I want it if I am it if it’s me.

And everyone here yells into the same phone in the same fluctuating tone up and down and high and low and they all wear the same shows and give the same looks and walk with the same stride and follow the wallow I am sorrowing in…

I thought I tasted you this morning in the midst of a dream about the only boy I’ve ever known, who was born with roses in his eyes before I buried him alive one evening while I smoked Marlboros by his side.

I know I loved a boy who plays pianos filled with flames and watches while I pack up every piece of the life I used to love just to keep myself at least enough to carry on and off and away.

He didn’t mean to make me cry, strangling empty rings around my heart, I have to pack up every piece of the life I used to know just to keep myself enough to carry on…

And I thought I tasted you this morning. Cinnamon and smoke and the beer of the night before all milling and moving around and over my lip tongue, teeth and mouth.

Comely calmly, bristling and ugly all of my friends let me be known let be go…bright and bubbly it is you I need to say comforting things in my ear. Say what you want to say, I’ll hang for my previous days I made fetuses with words, with flesh eaten ladies of metaphors and soliloquies, plucking the strings between us…I’d rather see your face filled with flowers and keep red roses in your eyes. Then be here, surrounded by aloneness.

We met under a willow tree, its branches swooping and tickling the tips of our hair with every rushed breathe. It wasn’t the first time I kissed you, but it was the first time I meant it. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been in love, but it’s the first time I needed it. It wasn’t the first time I laid on my back on cold grass, knowing its freezing, wishing we didn’t have to walk; it was the first time I wished for endlessness. I knew by the morning we’d be gone. Everything is lonely.

The sidewalk reflects my face, the windows are polished in the morning but in the afternoon they look like shit. I know you have an empty heart; I can feel it when we kiss.

But me I’m not a gamble. You can count on me.

To stumble over the mumbles of my every very conscious second guess. It’ll take one more long kiss to convince me. I’ve got one cigarette in my pocket we can share it when it starts to rain. We you pull plastic cups out of your worn back pocket filled with champagne and gingerbread men, I think I’m almost drunk on you enough to drive through the us built beneath this willow tree.

Hang on an arm hang on my arm lead me away from everything I was ever taught from the trees before. Jump in front of the champagne in a plastic cup the bubbles moving up through my nose and into my brain, it’s too early or too late for this. Any other time I wouldn’t be here.

I think I’m drunk enough on you to drive you home away from me. I’ll keep my left eye shut when I look through you to get you back to the place I found you scuttling on a paper clip alone innerness.

When we make it, I lift my right thumb to the top of your upper lip, stopping on your bottom lip, folding the close over my thumb print closing them as you step out of the car and walk away.

Horoscope...

When Emperor Joseph II heard Mozart's opera Abduction from the Seraglio in 1782, he remarked, "Too many notes, my dear Mozart, too many notes!" Sound familiar? I suspect you are exuding so much complex beauty and mysterious intelligence that, like Mozart, you may elicit responses akin to the emperor's. Don't take it personally. Though it is possible you'll get a bit excessive, what's more likely is that you'll be as deep and rich and concentrated and emotive and vivid as you need to be in order to express what's true for you right now. Will that make some people feel nervous or overwhelmed? Probably.

ahhhhhhh...i feel neither nervous or overwhelmed. so what does that make ME? what am i exuding??

hummmmmmmmm....