Discovering Dementia

A discussion of everything weird and stupid in our world.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

It Don't Make Me Proud

I been humming,
this new song I found.
it’s real catchy,
play it goddamn loud.

makin money,
it don’t make me proud.
feelin funny,
my head spinnin ‘round.

make me proud
song I found.
spinnin round
goddamn loud.

make my way home,
pushin’ through the crowd.
they can smell me,
please don’t push me down.

we ain’t runnin,
you’re just too damn proud.
this ain’t funny,
get knocked on the ground.

too damn proud
spinnin round
through the crowd
push me down.

gimme money,
it don’t make no sound.
nice and sunny,
this new place I found.

get my drink on,
wonder how I sound.
take a break now,
face down on the ground.

push me down
through the crowd
money sound
too damn loud.
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Monday, June 02, 2008

New Poem

Drenching Days



Oh those drenching days
No rain falls
But even the space between
Your fingers is wet

Sticky summertimes
We just snatch solace
Under the high hot sun
It ain’t time to go to bed -
Yet.

The wind’s whisper
Oh how I miss her

Can’t comprehend the heat
Just gotta eat
Ice chips
Till my fingers are blue,
Cold and wet.

Only thing to worry about
Whether the watermelon are
Ripe enough, juicy enough
To eat yet.

Those winds whisper
God damn, I miss her

Couldn’t care less
About making money,
Or getting a job -
Yet.

But those drenched days
Are gone and I’m grown
And all I wanna do
Is find a way to stay cool,
To stay wet.

That wind whispers
Guess I’ll always miss her.
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Friday, November 02, 2007

Words Nobody Has Ever Used to Describe Me

Here I present you, gentle readers, with another list for your consideration. Pending approval from the state legislature, whom I have written at great length, we at Discovering Dementia are pleased to announce that the first person to describe me with one of these adjectives will receive a handsome* prize, selected from a list** of fabulous prizes. Accordingly, anyone who knows what "Moribund" means should report to Merriam-Webster Co., Philadelphia, PA, 75115. Finally, we ask that, to prevent serious brain damage, readers not attempt to use all 10 of the following words in one sentence, although readers who submit said sentence will receive two of the amazing prizes.


1) Moribund

2) Contrarian

3) Obfuscating

4) Harmonious

5) Insouciant (I promise, this is the last post in which this word appears)

6) Flatulent (Oops, this snuck in from the list of words that are frequently used)

7) Somnolent

8) Garrulous

9) Corpulent

10) Gravelly



*Subject to personal taste.

*List contains only two prizes.
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Thursday, October 18, 2007

Things My Ex-Girlfriend threw during the course of our relationship(s)

I ask you, gentle readers, not to pass judgment, but merely to consider the following list.

1) A wet sponge (at me)

2) A swiss watch I had given her to wear (down the steps)

3) A pear wrapped in a napkin (at me)

4) My keys (out the window)

5) A fit (frequently)


And the results of the preceding things thrown:

1) My shirt got wet.

2) The watch worked, but I later lost it.

3) It hit me in the diaphragm, causing a modest amount of pain.

4) She slipped and fell on them the next day walking to class.

5) We broke up (a lot).
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Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Anthony Bourdain, Chef and Food Critic, Reviews Things About My Life

On the toilet paper available use in the Men’s Room at IBM Rochester, MN: As I slid the dry, scratchy, steel wool-like material that passes for toilet paper at IBM across my rectum, I imagined it gouging my sphincter in the most indelicate of ways. Alas, my suspicions were confirmed, for upon gazing at the offending toilet paper, I noticed not excrement, but the substantial presence of blood, this same blood having been, not seconds ago flowing within my own formerly healthy colon. You couldn’t pass this off as toilet paper in prison.

On my coworkers at IBM: I was forced to labor in this hellish slave-pit for eight hours, enduring the presence of the simian creatures whom God has seen fit to punish for some assuredly heinous crime by forcing them to toil, hour upon hour, in the thankless nest of despair that is IBM. The “humans” who inhabit this environment have become deformed by lack of sunlight and lack of The New York Times Fashion section. The very memory of their hideous faces causes me to become physically ill. You wouldn’t have co-workers this bad in prison.

On my car: I drove this alleged automobile for a mere twenty-five miles, and that was enough to make me pull over to the side of the road and vomit for two hours straight. The insouciant look which had graced my face for the last fifty-one years vanished without a trace upon my entering this laggardly heap of fungus. This rattling heap of spare parts, this collection of debris joined together by some illiterate Mexican alien, might as well have no seatbelts or safety devices whatsoever, for all the good they did me. No fewer than a dozen times during the course of the drive was I certain that my own demise was merely seconds away, and by the end of my ill-advised trip, I actually converted to Christianity merely so I could pray for my own death. If James Dean had driven this car, he wouldn’t have been cool. You couldn’t force prisoners to drive this car.

On my haircut: I once saw a recently-escaped inmate from a mental asylum combating half a dozen guards while foaming at the mouth and screaming biblical verses in Latin to his captors. His hair was better than Adam’s. You couldn’t give this haircut to prisoners.

On my collection of ties: When I was shown these ties, I blacked out for a period of time between one and three hours. When I awoke, I was sure I had been “punk’d.” You couldn’t force prisoners to wear these ties.

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An Extremely Short and Incredibly Specific List of My Turn-Ons

#1: Women who know what "insouciant" means, but don't have to show off by using it in conversation all the time.

#2: Women who know the difference between "enumerate" and "remunerate."

and most importantly,

#3: Women who find quoting old and obscure movies incredibly arousing.
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Saturday, April 07, 2007

As Regards The Previews for Nicolas Cage's movie "Next"

Hey! HEY!! Stop it. No. Shut up...no, you listen. Just stop it. Thanks,
America
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Monday, November 27, 2006

Adam "Ebert" Schmidt's Ten Minute Film Reviews: Part One, or Part I

I was uncertain to begin the elaborate process it takes to review a movie. Excuse me, a film. Movies are those dreadful things that are found on the television networks that one does not have to pay a monthly fee for. The project in question is not a film review, a kind of summary if you will (dreadful things, summaries; they remind one of paraphrasing; I shudder to even type the word), but a review of the film which I have seen approximately ten minutes of. This excludes movies such as Terminator 2: Judgment Day, for I believe I have seen the movie in its complete form, simply not as a contiguous piece of work. Also not eligible are movies that I've only seen the previews for. However, let us begin the task with my eloquent, simple review of Hidalgo, starring Viggo Mortenson and some kind of horse.

Hidalgo: A Ten Minute Film Review

One must immediately presume that Hidalgo is the name of Viggo Mortenson's character, and also that he is in some kind of hurry. At one point a giant cloud of grasshoppers descended upon him and his horse, who is unnamed (somewhat odd, for Hidalgo seems to be a horseman of quite some repute) and is brown with white spots. Or is it the other way around? But I digress. The grasshoppers, I believe, serve as a metaphor for a kind of cloud that Hidalgo must overcome, and indeed he does overcome this cloud of unease, if we will, by eating one of the grasshoppers. Not quite sure what grasshoppers were doing in the desert, or why they all died suddenly. Hidalgo seemed to delight in this and tasted one of the grasshoppers, as if making sure it were as delicious as he had surmised, being of course some kind of survival expert, at the very least having some experience with the foreign legion, he knew that to eat a grasshopper is incredibly poisonous, and wisely only ate one, having of course a tremendously poweful digestive system (that being his main super-power). As we know by this point, Hidalgo is from a european nation and speaks no English whatsoever. I commend the film-makers for choosing not to subtitle this production; in fact, I believe it lends a certain air of credulity to the character of Hidalgo. In addition to this, I applaud their decision to cast Viggo Mortenson as Hidalgo, because as a native speaker of many european languages, it is clear, even to the untrained ear, that he delivers his (many) foreign-language lines with a clarity and lack of accent most American actors would have quite a time with. It was unclear as to the language he spoke, certainly it must be a kind of Germanic language, perhaps even the language of the dreaded Huns. This is probably an accurate reading of the scene, as the movie is set in approximately the 1500s, evidenced by the fact that Europe was a large desert in this time period: indeed, the film only confirms my knowledge of historical euorpean biomes. However, I must take fault with the inclusion of rifles in the film: surely the film-makers would have been made aware by a fact-checking type of person that rifles were not used until, at the very earliest, the 1800s.

There were also seveal Americans in the film: one of them a rather talented black man who refused to shoot Hidalgo at several points. However, he was not reticent at all to harm his horse, who, I believe, was of the Arabian variety. The horse became injured, and Hidalgo attempted to console him in is native european tongue, but alas, it seemed the horse could not understand him, as he was used to speakers or Arabic. It is unknown why Hidalgo and his horse were on such bad terms: he refused to put the horse down after it was clear it was critically injured, perhaps out of spite: I cannot say. What is clear is that the horse was unfavorable toward Hidalgo from this point on, even going so far as refusing to carry him, and laying down in the hot european sand. Perhaps this is why at the end of the film Hidalgo sets his horse free, back in his native Arabian pastures to run free with all the other horses. I should think it a more fitting ending to release him in America: perhaps then the horse's release could have served as a symbol of letting our inner desires break free from the opression which the mind naturally gives them. As it stands, though, the film version is decidedly meaningless and unmoving. Also a major gaffe here by the director: Arabian pastures, while prevalent in the 1400s, were less so in the 1500s. It was more a deciduous forest at that period in history.


Overall: 6.71/10
High Point: Viggo Mortenson's expert language skills as Hidalgo.
Low Point: Not naming the horse? Seems lazy.
Directing: Mild, slightly tart at best.
Script: Great, from what I could discern.
Style: Loved the lack of subtitles, perhaps make a subtitled version available for non-purists.



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