The Telephone

Ring and ding and ding and ring

The telephone still rings

I reach across and shut it off

The telephone still rings

I grab my bike and speed away

The wind caught in my hair

The cops they race across the road

I don't think I really care

I make across the winding path

The telephone still rings

I fly across the barren fields

Doing all the things

Ring and ding and ding and ring

The telephone still rings

I reach across and toss it off

The telephone still rings

Chatter, clatter, sing and tatter

They don't have to pick my bone

Yammer, stammer, kill and hammer

Just pick up the screaming phone

Calling Myself

They called me in the night

They asked me if I could come

I told them I had never seen

The places where they're hiding away

So they let me see the day

And I kissed the sinning earth

And I lived in peace

I waited for it to end

And so they called me in the night

Dirty bottles washed in rum

They asked me where I'd been

They held me till the yonder dawn

My heart and my clothes long gone

Fleeing to my flaming hearth

And so I lay in the grease

I waited for it to end

And then the morning sun, she rose

And I ran for bitter life

I ran to those memories

And I laughed and I cried

And I sung and I tried

To make me a better man

Than the nightly shit

I waited for it to end

And when the next sun grows

I know where I'll find the knife

But I can't afford the fees

For living and for dying

Growing and denying

I know where I ran

And there I'll sit

Waiting for it to end

Your Opinions Should Be Like Your Clothes

Your opinions should be like your clothes.

No, I'm not joking.

Yes, I will now explain.

These days, I've noticed a fundamental problem with the nature of discourse, especially political discourse and the incessant misinformation of online mass media (some might argue that this problem has always existed, but that's a conversation for another day). As problems go, it's pretty big. Pretty problematic, one might even say. You see, my friends, the trouble lies with opinions. In particular, how people associate themselves with their opinions so strongly that whenever said opinions are rightly questioned, people feel like someone is attacking their very identity. The moment this happens, a civil, constructive debate is virtually impossible.

Of course, I don't claim to offer a solution. But as a writer, what I can offer is an analogy. A very good analogy, in fact, that can be taken very far in interpretation. You've probably already guessed what it is by the title of this post.

Your opinions, dear readers, should be like your clothes.

Whenever you go out to buy new clothes, you know that they aren't going to last forever. Like most things in life, they have a limited lifespan. Now, either you can be smart and start to replace your clothes as soon as you start to see them fade, or you can be stubborn, and hang on to them for years, until they start to fall apart, and you have no option but to replace them. And yet you could still be stubborn, and hold on to your opinions (ahem, clothes) until they've literally been reduced to tatters, and you're pretty much walking around in the harsh, cold weather with nothing but rags covering up your body. Now, if you're out and about and you see someone like this, with holes and tears riddling their entire attire, the decent thing to do is at least tell them about it. "Excuse me! Good sir/madam! I hate to interrupt your fine evening, but, uh, your clothes are quite torn. You might want to do something about that. Rather strange, considering that fancy car you're driving."

Now imagine you're on the other side. If some random stranger says this to you, what would be your response? If you're sane, you'd probably be like "Oh dear! Why, random but remarkably kind stranger, I do believe you're right. I really should buy some new clothes."

And that would be that.

Of course, if you're sane you probably wouldn't find yourself in that situation to begin with, which is exactly my point. If you can afford new clothes, you're not gonna walk around in tatters! No, if you can afford new clothes, you buy new clothes. As soon as it's needed. Maybe you wait for a sale or something, but you do it. The clothes you wear aren't an integral part of your identity or your self-worth, they're just clothes. You might have some sentimental attachment to them, you might like them a lot, and sure, they might be how the whole world judges you, but in the end, they're simply clothes. In fact, even if your wardrobe is an essential part of who you are, you'd still probably want to replace it as soon as possible. Nobody likes wearing a torn attire.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Treat your opinions just as you would treat your clothes. Replace them as soon as needed, don't let them fade and tear, and more importantly, don't associate them with your identity so strongly that you can't let them go. Realize that just like your clothes, you probably don't want to be seen out with holes in your opinions. And finally, if you do happen to find someone with an old, torn, out-of-fashion opinion, tell them about it. Be helpful. Be nice. And if you start to see them get defensive, remind them that quite on the contrary with what they're doing, if they value their opinions, they should probably get around to replacing them as soon as needed. Otherwise, they're just embarrassing themselves.

That's all I have for you today, my friends. Just some thoughts for you to ponder over and possibly consider the next time you're debating someone, whether it be online or in real life. Let me know what you thought in the comments! And as always, thanks for reading.

Much Ado About Something - Chapter One - An Awful Hullaballoo

“Did you know,” said the Tentacle, stroking his beard and staring intently at the delicate skin of the bright orange fruit, “That bananas used to be yellow before the fifty-second century?”

“Outrageous,” said the Ear.

“Outlandish,” cried the Newt.

“Unheard of,” quacked the Frog.

“Ribbet,” said the Duck.

And the Eye just stared at them all and rolled his eye in its socket. What he was thinking of was highly disturbing, but as Eyes are often puzzling beings, perhaps it is better to leave those things unsaid. It was then, as then was a particularly interesting moment, the Clock chimed ten and gave everyone a cry of delight.
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“Time for second breakfast!” cried the Newt. “I must say the Clock is behaving rather queer.”

And he was right too, for the Clock was shaking on the mantelpiece, looking quite excited and tick-tocking a rather too hard. The Frog quacked thoughtfully. The Ear jumped up and down on the Duck’s new tablecloth.

“Well!” demanded the Italic. “Look at the time! We must get going. Everyone, would you please tell us what you think and oh dear, for goodness sake please wash those dishes in the back!”

“I say the Italic calm down,” suggested the Ear. “What do you say?”

Everyone’s hands went up in the air. Except for the Eye, who did not have a hand, and contented himself with rolling his eye for the twelfth time that day. Behind them, the Noodle poked her head through the door and squawked crossly.

“Oh, would anyone please put the tick back in the tock!”

The Frog quacked in agreement, and the Ear nodded vigorously. The Eye simply stared at them all. "Perhaps," said the Tentacle, still stroking his beard, "It would be pragmatic to remove Clock's tick, and replace it with a new one." The Noodle huffed irritably and slammed the door shut, which creaked apologetically on its rusted hinges. After all, the Tentacle posed a very sensible suggestion, so sensible in fact, that everyone was instantly disinclined toward it. "What bollocks!" cried the Newt. "Let us return to food. I'm hungry! It's been almost ten minutes since we last ate. The Clock will sort himself out. I heard he was having very distressing dreams last night, and I'd say that he's just been frightened, is all."

"That makes no sense," said the Tentacle. "Last time the Clock behaved strangely, there was nobody to wake us up in the morning and we lost two months of our lives. I say we act now. Duck, what do you think?"

But unfortunately, we will never know what she thought, because at that precise moment the Clock gave a strangled screech and died out entirely. This was so utterly unprecedented that the Duck croaked alarmedly and toppled over on her tablecloth. The Newt screamed. The Ear flinched. The Frog quacked. The Eye widened its eye. For the longest time, they all just stood there, rooted in their individual positions, until the Tentacle finally dared to whisper through the silence.

"Oh dear."

"Well, now what do we do?" cried the Newt, gesticulating wildly and clutching the watery Eye in terror. "There is nothing to do!" cried the Ear,  "We are dead! Oh, tarnation! Oh, sweet, sweet, tarnation! Oh, pray to the Lord! Pray to the kind Lord!" And so he collapsed on the floor in tears. The Eye tried to comfort him, but sadly he too had begun to cry in distress. This was unfortunate, because when the Eye cried it did make quite a mess. His tears were rather large, after all. "My God!" said the Tentacle, staring at the two with disgust. "Look at yourselves! Do you have no shame? This situation can be remedied yet." The Duck, who was perhaps the most optimistic of then all, straightened herself and croaked in agreement. "Ribbet, ribbet ribbet. Ribbet!"

"Yeah, the Duck is right," quacked the Frog, helping the Ear off the floor and patting him on the back. "We kinfolk must stick together in times like this." There was a cry of agreement. "We must call a meeting!" declared the Tentacle. "Today's turn of events has been quite frightening. We must assemble and decide the next course of action." "Hear, hear!" cried everyone. "Ear, ear!" cried the Ear.

And so they all gathered around and started discussing a plan. There were quite a lot of differing opinions on what to do, but after a quite some chattering, quite some yammering, and a little bit of tattering, everyone finally agreed on the solution to what was turning out to be quite a frightful dilemma. "We must procure a battery!" cried the Tentacle, and everyone nodded. Except for the Eye, who unfortunately didn't have a head. The Newt seemed to be confused. "What in the name of tarts is a battery?" he demanded, looking bewildered. "It's one them things that powers them electrical doodads," quacked the Frog. The Tentacle nodded, stroking his beard and appearing ever so wise. "Well, then," snapped the Newt, "I don't see any of you with a battery! Where do you plan to obtain one?"

"That," replied the Tentacle, "Is actually a fantastic question. I have no clue." The Newt snorted. "Well, it's not like somebody is just going to come barging into our house with one of them!"

But unfortunately, our dear friend the Newt was about to be proven wrong yet again, for at that very moment, the door smashed open with a sigh and the Noodle charged in, huffing and puffing and overall in a generally disagreeable state. In his arms was a giant metal cylinder, covered with constantly turning dials and knobs. "It's a battery!" cried the Tentacle in triumph. Everyone oohed and ahhed. This really was quite impressive.

And a bit convenient too, sadly. But hey, don't look at me. I didn't make this stuff up, right?

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Boy, I haven't had that much fun with a story in a long time. This particular piece was something I wrote a couple years back, and only recently found among the chaos that is my Google Drive. It was short, unfinished, and barely even fleshed out, but as soon as I read the first few paragraphs, I realized I simply had to turn it into something bigger—and that's exactly what I plan to do! As always, let me know what you think in the comments below (or tweet me @starlightjason2). I've never written anything like this before, so I'd really appreciate your feedback. Does it work? Does it not work? Should I continue it? And if so, where do you want to see these characters go? I look forward to seeing your thoughts!