February 21, 2012 - 12:12 AM

It isn’t sex, or love, or friendship that drives us. It is, in fact, the basic need to connect with another human being, to find that special thing that you can share with another, joining you from now until eternity, that drives us. We all want, nay, need it. Some find it. In seeking it, some find greatness. Others find only madness. But we press on, or die. This is not to say fate will lead the way. Fate is a joke, a fat mistress who only pops her head in so that we may ridicule it. No, fate is not the answer. It isn’t even the question. The only question is you. And me. Hi.

I don’t want friends. I don’t want a lover. I don’t want family. I don’t want a pet. You know what I want, and we both know it’s the easiest thing and the world. But, simultaneously, it is also the most difficult. Because to truly connect is to be truly vulnerable. To show another your soft underbelly is a risky endeavor, not to be taken lightly, but also not to be taken so seriously that one fails to enjoy the ride. It is exhilarating, terrifying, life affirming, and wonderful, all at the same time. It reminds you where the boundaries lie between us, and also how easily those boundaries can come down (or, in some unfortunate cases, how firmly those boundaries are entrenched).

We cannot force the connection, but we cannot simply sit back and allow it to happen. I’ve found a gentle touch too soft, and a firm grip too hard. Instead, what is needed is a steady pressure, not too hard to pop the balloon, but also not too soft to let it slip away. You must be ready for the connection when it happens, you must not hesitate or be too afraid to let it happen. You want it. You need it. It is as essential and as natural as breathing – but some have spent their entire lives holding their breath. Inhale, my friend. Breathe deep of the bounty God has bestowed upon us. Enjoy his glory as it washes over you. Behold his might as it sticks in your throat and grips your heart. Hold on tight, because this ride never stops. Let your arms loose, and trust the car to take you where you were meant to go. Because if you stop stopping yourself, if you allow yourself to breathe deeply of his creation, you will always find your way. Even when the path is dark.

In fact, you know you’re on the right path when all is dark, and the light seems lost forever. You might be going the wrong way, but you are on the path. It is trying to shake you off, to push you aside. But you refuse, because you know the way, and nothing will stop you. Now, there will be surprises along the way. The great castle at the end of the yellow brick road could be made of sticks, and the tiny cottage you passed could hold great treasure. You will not know until you explore it. So open your eyes. Drink from the stream. Smell the flowers. Talk to a passing stranger. Walk the path, son. The path will take you home.

-Another late night jam session with the brain of Michael Casp.

Tuesday - 12:18 AM

Hey this is awesome, don’t you think?????

Why yes I certainly do, Michael.

What should we do with it?

Work. Live. Survive.

That’s it? Seriously? Kinda lame dude.

What would you have me do ?

You’re asking me?

Yes you.

Oh. Because I would use it to… *SIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGGG*



Really?

What.

Were you serious?

Serious about what?

That, thing, that, god nevermind.

Whatever you say.

I’ll fucking kill you.

Really? Be doing me a favor.

Dark dude.

So what if I am?

I didn’t say you are.

You didn’t have to.

Stop that.

Stop what?

You know. The whole Dark Macabre fucking persona.

That’s my personality.

No, that’s what you wish your personality was, but you’re not interesting enough.

Do I need this kind of abuse?

Yes.

Yeah, you’re probably right.

Messed up.

Tell me about it.


-=Binko banko that’s the goddamn end=-

Tree of Life

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain...

Jammin' at the Farmers Market

I'm listening to Jay-Z radio as we park outside the Morrisville Farmers Market. Old and young unite on the blacktop, under the cool tents marked with handwritten signs.

An amateur musician plays and sings Beatles songs on his acoustic guitar as we choose cucumbers and corn.

The mood is mellow this Saturday morning. The sun is bright but not yet overbearing. The smiles run rampant through this little paradise.

Hi there

Ok, I didn't have time/energy/motivation to update the site this week. Hey, I just started this new job, and it's a lot of hard work and my brain is tired at the end of the day and they don't have a baller coffee machine like my old job, so when I get home I don't do much writing-wise.

Sue me.

But this will do. I'm loving my new job, even though it's hard work. I'm learning great stuff and actually leave each day with a sense of fulfillment that is simply unbeatable. It's pretty great.

So I'll just make a nice post about me (this is called "the Michael Casp experience" after all) and that'll have to satiate you until I figure out my schedule a little better and start posting regularly again.

I worked from home today, which was stellar. I've got my home office rockin. Look:

Awesome, right? Got my good speakers hooked up so I can blast Daft Punk all day long while I chug through the manuscripts. Got my extra monitor hooked up so I can work faster. Got my coffee. Chair. Wireless mouse. Even a fan to keep me cool.

And so I'm peacin out for the day. Later y'all, catch you on the flip side.

Blog Update

You faithful readers (all 2 of you) might have noticed that my post production has dropped off in recent days. I have a great excuse: I just started a new job. A more intense job. One that doesn't allow me to blog on the clock.

I will keep making posts, just not as many as I'd like. I'm going to try to keep it daily (ok, near-daily) and try to do as much as I can when I get home from work.

I'll try to have a real post up later today. In the mean time, watch this:

Dr. Kevorkian Dies the Old Fashioned Way

Dr. Jack Kevorkian, suicide enthusiast, has died the old fashioned way: a blood clot from his leg broke free and moved into his heart, killing him.

Besides having an awesome name, Dr. Kevorkian was also a pioneer in assisted suicide for at least 130 terminal patients. He went to prison for 8 years for helping very sick people move on.