He-Man and the masters of my nights

It would seem that it's easier to make good on the insomniatic rantings than I might have expected.  I disregard squiggly red lines.  What everyone needs to know is that Qubo is awesome.  Awesome I tell you.  Most of you don't know what Qubo is, and if you do, you shouldn't.  Ok, you should.  But only because I've now told you.  I don't think there is a channel surfer alive, no matter how prolific, who could stumble upon this gem in any circumstance other than the one I find myself in.  Free fall.  No cable TV.  Did anyone know that they put decimal points on channels now and had like 29.3?  Well 29.2 is Qubo.  Totally non-existent in high def, and buried like Solomon's treasure in the standard def channels.  I couldn't even find it when I was looking.  Anyway, it's awesome!

Uhh, first of all, He-Man is on for an hour at 9pm.  That's ballgame right there.  But She-Ra is on for another hour at 10pm.  Now, I know we might have big leagued her when we were young, but it's legit.  Do they stop there?  What do you think?  Nope, we got Bravestarr for you guessed it, an hour!  And I have to tell you, the cartoon chicks in 80s cartoons are inappropriately hot, with inappropriately revealing outfits.  I'm not complaining or endorsing it.  Just a fact.

As if that weren't enough, Ghostbusters is on after that.  For an hour.  This isn't "The Real Ghostbusters", with Slimer and those rejects, but the original.  Ironically, it isn't the original that's called the real whatever.  Then, there's this Ren and Stimpy knockoff that's all the great taste and only half the calories.  Well, it's caloric content is probably the same, but the show is legit.  Then, at 2 am, there is Sitting Ducks, which is about a duck and an alligator that are friends.  Ok, so that might not sound great, but it's good.

At 3 am, Qubo and I part company because the Outer Limits is on at 3 am on 58.2.  You gotta kinda lay in the weeds for an hour with that.  The reason for sitting through the antediluvian is simple.  Heathcliff comes on at 4 am on 58.2.  It might seem like an insignificant responsibility, but sometimes I count ceiling tiles and become preoccupied.  A few times I didn't catch Heathcliff until the Catillac cats were doing their thing.  Frustration like this is hard to duplicate.

But with the theme song comes renewal.  His orange fur is my sun climbing over the horizon.  Ahhh.  But the sunrise is still a few hours away, more proximate in time to Inspector Gadget's arrival at 5 am.

If there was any doubt, the free fall should now be clear.  In fact, there may be a JATO assist helping me reach depths that would have crushed Ed Harris even while breathing red water.  While ironic sounding, I was being totally serious about the Qubo Night Owl firing me up.  Cartoons dominated in the 80's.  Fact.  If they mixed in some Voltron and GI Joe and Transformers...That could get ugly.  Looks like the Jam is gonna get a sleep deprived dub.  I've got 5 hours combined the last two days with a maximum 5 tonight/this morning if I fall asleep now.

On my mind

I've dreamed of a place that is always on my mind,
Where the blue waters run from the mountains to the sea,
And there is my love and there is me,
"Can you stop the rain?', they would ask,
But I would let it rain as long as rain lasts...

Seychelle Islands

Now, it's almost certainly a given that I can entertain myself with my thoughts alone more than the average bear.  With that in mind, it's conceivable that you won't feel where I'm coming from here.  But how bad would it be to be stuck on an island?  As for me, I've been perusing the classifieds for free banana boats.  In the off chance that I land one, you may hear about me waving to Cubans as we cross paths in the lonely Atlantic Ocean.  They coming north.  Me following the front of the boat until it hits sand somewhere.

Schopenhaur taught about beauty.  And the application of beauty in a good life.  For any who have read Arthur Schopenhaur, it would be obvious that I am taking artistic liberties with the term "good".  He was a very depressed and pessimistic man.  With beauty, however, or 'aesthetic contemplation', salvation was possible.  Allow me to carve a German candle with this ball of wax...

So, in keeping with Art's pessimistic view, he saw the human condition as being helplessly bound to depraved urges, or will.  At every turn, people act in ways that compromise any conception of goodness by trying to sate base hungers.  Nice.  But, when one is in the aesthetic mode they abandon their will and take in beauty on beauty's terms, as beauty is.  For example, when one looks at a sunset and goes "ahh", we have a contemplative state.  When one sees the sunset and thinks, "huh, the sunset is at 8 tonight, so the descending orange ball on the horizon is indicative of mid evening", we don't.  It is the act of relating the things in life to our desires that is corrupting as we think of how they will yield some selfish benefit.

When thinking back to childhood and the simplicity of yesterday's existence (cough cough Peter), it's easy to think to ourselves, "what happened to me?"  With so called growth, we have more junk to relate our world to.  It's no longer a great mystery to be discovered.  The simple no longer hold sway over our imaginations.  Now, for me this still happens and that is why I have problems.  Haven't adjusted to being an adult yet.

For the rest of us, we don't have enough 'I'm stranded on a tropical island'.  I could for sure use way more I'm stranded on an island.  If I could get my hands on some island with some piano, it would be a wrap.  Would it be so bad to live closer to the basics of life?  If the mind weren't boxed in by the chaotic mish mash of life, but open to receive the simple things, would we not be better off?

With the possibilities that technology affords us, we buy into the illusion of greater freedom.  Consider this, behind a piano, one would be free to hammer any key they chose.  With 88 keys and ten fingers, the function is 88X87...X78.  We can approximate this as ~80^10.  Eleven zeros.  Big number.  Freedom with endless possibilities.  It's only with the conformity of music's rules, and action that is consistent with those rules that one is free to make music.  Like so many things, "freedoms" can be illusory.  And as is often the case, less is more.

A twisted mind

Come and see the inner workings of a twisted mind.  I can only talk to myself when I'm sure others can't hear.  And when sharing with myself, it's not really sharing.  Projecting other personalities isn't a stretch, but at this point they don't yet exist.   A blog.  The birth of a love child is upon us.  The bastard spawn of an apathetic will and mild encouragement is now here.  For the sake of any who may be unfortunate enough to let their eyes stray and even linger on this portrait, I will spoon feed the twisted bits as bits and mega bits through the blogosphere.  And I disregard squiggly red lines.

So there's a lot and nothing going on right now.  There is not, nor has there been any coherent ascension for a time.  Hence the name, Portrait of a life in free fall.  This is a snap shot of what's rattling around.  Or what's oozing, or otherwise existing in an overactive mind.  We'll have time to go over the mirror's instruction, that is the instruction given to the mirror.  Perhaps stream of consciousness rantings on sleepless nights will be there for the offing.  There's even an outside chance that something profound could be uttered.  In all likelihood, no one will have any idea what I'm talking about.  I rarely do.

But, the highlight of my week is coming tomorrow, when I will join two lovely new friends in a jam session, the likes of which will likely never be equaled.  The percussive instruments will be devastated.  By Dev.  And one of the available keyboards WILL be manipulated by the lovely and talented Vanessa.  Perhaps the teacher will even become the student.  If my technical faculties spontaneously generate, I may even get a recording of what's happening.  So there will be no recording.  Another wisp of brilliance will dissipate into the ether, remaining only as an etching in our minds.  So be it.

I can tolerate being the lone purveyor and patron of my thoughts, as it's standard, for a time.  But not too long.  I have some cool friends with blogs and would like not only to get my readership up, but theirs as well.  I've heard for the longest time about my bs being beyond standard and at times entertaining.  Put your mouse fingers where your mouth goes is, and read.  I'll keep it as short as I can and write as often as time permits.  Any prompt given will be considered, but I doubt there will be any problems thinking of new stuff to run my mouth about.