Generously suppressed

A magenta hue, spoke of the shame on his face. 

Ahh face shame. The best kind. Public. Vocal. Expressive. Generous. You know what you're getting with someone displaying face shame. 

Not like stupid gut shame. The worst kind. Quiet. Internal. Acidic. Selfish. Why hold it within? What are you trying to hide? 

Or even worse than the worst kind, pinky toe shame. The worstest kind. Limpy. Gangrenous. Black naily. Gross. And yet also hidden. Except that everyone can see you limping around like a fool. Oh you kicked the edge of your bed frame did you? Very believable. I mean that by the way. That's often the cause of pinky toe pain. So good lying there. But, BUT, how's your shame going to feel if I find a bandaid with a dead black pinky toenail in it and feel sorry for YOU! 

Plus have you even thought about the people who have actually fucked up their pinky toe by kicking a bed frame that have to go around with people thinking 'I wonder if it wasn't a frame but is actually shame?' Yeah! That's right! You're putting doubt in people's minds, and doubt's one of the major causes of unsureness, which can lead to damn ambiguity for gods sake. 

So if you're keeping your shame in your pinky toe then shame on you. And where the hell are you going to suppress it to now that your pinky toe was already occupied with your original shame? Which I assume was caused by something small like accidentally nuking a small Carribean nation, but now that you have something big to feel shameful for, where are you going to suppress it? 

What's lower than a pinky toe? A worm? Worm shame? Gone. Removed. Underground. Painless. Completely eradicating any personal suffering. 

Hmm, that's pretty smart. I might have to try that. Where's my nuke kit? 

  

Rampant Sense Making

As part of my usual existence being an awesome guy, I occasionally encounter other people that are also awesome. I know! They're out there. 

For example I just overheard a guy talking to his friend say 'foaming at the mouth is kinda my thing'. 

That's badass. What a cool thing to have be your thing. It's like he's 'guy who gets so overwhelmed with rage that he foams at the mouth'. Awesome. 

Keep in mind he isn't 'guy who gets so overwhelmed with rage he gets violent'. 

And let's be honest, if you're so overwhelmed with rage that you're often getting violent your thing is never a minor liquid representation of that which occurs moments before you break someone's jaw. That's not how people's 'things' work. 

Like for example if a guys thing was 'guy who always flushes before he goes' he probably wouldn't be someone who also regularly removes the lids off toilets, takes them to convenience stores, and uses them to smash apart the slurpy machine hoping the flow will start coming out star shaped. 

Or if a girls thing was 'girl who's never been to a beach known for having an occasional issue with towel thieves' she's probably not also a famous Bonnie and Clyde style bank robber where in her case 'Clyde' is horse leg she's had surgically attached as a tail.

Or if a woman's thing was 'lady who loves to climb skyscrapers' she's probably not also a club footed, hunchback, webbed handed, lizard tongued, wheelchair bound, prime minister of a previously undemocratic military oil state, who was voted in after beating several frogs in a 'blending in with the lillypads' competition as judged by six former muscle car enthusiasts who have since taken up extreme fork balancing as their sport of choice, after one them discovered that metal that comes from the ground often has to be mined by someone, often requiring those employed to do such things to work outside major cities downtown central business districts, which is often where it's easiest to find a store that sells spatulas that are shaped like lightbulbs! 

No sir and/or madam, if that's your thing, that's your thing, and that's the middle and end of the story. 

So what's all you folks things? I'd like mine to one day be 'guy who regularly dominates the horticulture type dedication to wet and/or damp and/or dry solution based strangely rampant sense making' but for now I'm happy to merely remain 'awesome guy'. 

What I'd be thinking

Here's what I think I'd be thinking if I was a rock star in the world's biggest band about to do an only medium sized gig, comparatively to our other now massive sized gigs, which in all fairness we've only been doing for the past few years, although which happen to be awesome, and huge, and of course we deserve it.

I mean there was a time not that long ago that a playing a concert as big as this would have been an unthinkable dream. So I don't want it to sound like we are getting arrogant or have lost the spirit that drove us in the early days. It’s still there, trust me, we were born in small clubs and bars, and we’re driven by those great memories.

I know our music has been used in a few commercials now, and I agree, that's something I would have once thought was something only total sell outs would do, and yeah, I get it, a family van is hardly the type of product you'd have seen us promoting when we were still diving head first into drum riders, and saying that 'if the gig doesn't end with a head wound then we didn't really play'. But that commercial paid for the recording of our second EP which is the record that got us booked to play in Germany, which is the gig where we started to really get some buzz. So without that minivan there may never have been 'all the paper men' which is obviously a badass song.

I mean they played it at the funeral of that kid who died tragically when he got hit by lightening while volunteering in Haiti.

I know that suddenly sounded like I'm saying that's a good thing, I mean playing the song was, that funeral was on the news, it was a big break for us. But obviously the death was tragic, and for the re-release we did of it dedicated to that kid we gave all the profits to the charitable organization he was working with at the time of his death.

Yes only profits, studio time is very expensive, and we didn't want to half ass it. Or rush it. Recording a great song requires putting the right spirit and feelings into the song. And we couldn’t have made it as good as it was if we didn’t have fun doing it.

Of course giving some money to his family would have been a nice gesture too, but there was already a vast outpouring of support for them, and they we're very well taken care of. And no I'm not saying that they benefited from his death in anyway. I'm sure a couple of million dollars in donations does nothing to dampen the heartache. Look your putting fucking words in my mouth now 'SpellBiscuit frontman says family profited from their child's death'. I never fucking said that. Well I did just then, but only to illustrate point.

No I don't think that you can say anything you want if you’re saying it just to illustrate points 'oh rape is good', 'Hitler was swell'. 'If you’re not a pedophile then you're not ok with me'. I'd obviously never ever say stuff like that.

Yes I fucking know; I was just illustrating a point again. I was illustrating a point about illustrating points.

Wait there could be a song in that idea somewhere.

Oh fuck you all; I get my inspiration where I get my inspiration. Every artist does. And so yes, that beautiful song that played for your first dance at your wedding may have been inspired by some band joking around about fucking rotting corpses, and the song that plays during that puppy commercial that makes you cry is secretly about the artists desire to pluck your fucking eyes out with a fork and feed them to children. So why don’t you suck my fucking balls:

'Let's go fuck shit up boys, these fans are all assholes anyway!'

Wow, being a rock star would be awesome.

A pretty common conclusion

And then the last person on earth said - I wonder how I’ll be remembered?

It was the most wonderfully ironic thing thing ever uttered.

Up to that point at least.

And a lot had happened up to that point.

All of human existence for one thing.

Although that is hardly one thing.

In fact some would argue that each individual who made up the existence of humans were themselves an individual thing.

But then some would argue that each individual who made up the existence of all humans were themselves made up of more than one individual part.

Like most of them had two legs for example.

Some body parts came in even more than pairs.

Like nose hairs, or leg hairs, or even head hairs, at least on some individuals.

Also I guess you could count toes in this category.

But each individual toe does have it’s own personality. In fact I believe most of them even had their own individual pig story.

And pig stories kick ass.

Like check this one out – there once was a pig that was so cool that people totally liked it, and took photos of it, and sometimes talked about it even when it wasn’t in the room. Which it hardly ever was, because pigs mostly live outdoors, except for the occasionally unnecessarily spoiled pet pig. Which is always a little silly, given that the ways they are spoiled are normally more commonly associated with spoiling a child, or perhaps a dog or cat, and if you really wanted to spoil a pig in a way that would make IT the most happy, then probably just dumping it in a pile of mud would be efficient.

That’s a kick ass pig story.  

And the conclusion to it, which kicked ass, was literally only efficient.

So what really is an individual? How can that be deciphered? And if it can’t then how can anything be fucking deciphered?

Am I real?

Are you real?

Is anything real?

Where is up? Where is down? Aren’t those really just relative?

Aren’t we all fucking related?

And who are the people arguing this shit, I am the last fucking person on earth for fucks sake?

And why did I start thinking in the third person?

The last person on earth had become flustered.

It was a pretty common conclusion.

Cold Paranoia

I think I want to do more cold openings on my blog. You know like they do on TV shows, where they open the show with a little bit of comedy which doesn’t necessarily fit into the rest of the episode, or sometimes sets it up, or sometimes is just crap. Let’s try it:

Where is the ocean? It’s a question that has plagued scientists for years.

And now the opening credits and song:

The David Tieck Blog, the David Tieck blog, at the moment it’s called Fleeting Forever again,

And I am still technically supposed to be writing every day about it being the best of my life my friends,

Although based only on my own rules, which I have lapsed to be just write something positive every day,

This is the David Tieck blog, staring David Tieck, and now coming your way,

Written in front of a live studio audience.

And now to the main body of the blog:

So today I was driving for fourteen hours. It was fun. At one point I was stuck in a maze of detours near Australia’s capital city of Canberra trying to find the new freeway section, which bypasses the city. For a whole section of time I kept being right behind this one black jeep. So much so that I became convinced of several things:

1.     That, given the same dance of roads we were taking, he was obviously going to the same place as I was.

2.     That he was going to get paranoid that I was following him. Like in a creepy way. ‘Why does this guy keep taking all the same god damn turns as I am?’

3.     That I was getting very paranoid about making him paranoid.

4.     That it was almost worth going the wrong way so that I could stop following him, and therefore stop him thinking I was following him, and therefore could stop me thinking that he was thinking that I was following him.

It was around now that I realized that he was not in fact going the same way as me. I was so stuck in my head worrying about the whole following fiasco, that I had missed my GPS saying loudly that my turn was coming up, and then now, and then recalculating… recalculating… recalculating all because this son of a bitch WASN’T going where I was going, and I was trusting him and following him. What a fucking asshole. I ended up in the middle of nowhere because of him.

The End.

So hell yeah, love the cold opening. How about that ocean guys? Where the hell is it? And what the hell is that thing I have been thinking was the ocean? Is this a conspiracy? Am I the only one who didn’t know that that wasn’t the ocean? Why wasn’t that part of the blog resolved damn it? I’m all paranoid. Who knows where I’ll end up because of this? I wonder if there will be a black jeep there?

Whimsical Distraction

It was gone before I arrived. I was devastated. Distraught. Dead set deluded into devilish overuse of D words. Like damnation, derivative and even depletion. A D word that's found its use depleting in recent times, in a hilarious twist of ironic fate so full of delicious whimsy that even thorn shaped piggy banks would be all like:

'How am I a piggy bank if I'm not a piggy? And for that matter I'm not a bank either damn it. Those are multifaceted organizations with numerous branches, diversified avenues for revenue raising and boring physical presences - I'm a thorn bitch, I can make even a romantic gesture of roses a blood drawing battle, not some cold square with a roof, when was the last time a square did anything bad ass? Maybe Tiananmen Square in China but the square was only partially responsible, you've also got to factor in politics, social unrest and international pressure, not to mention that gas bomb that made everyone on earth think they were sponges for three days in 1972. Why doesn't anyone talk about that? Why the cover up?'

Ok ok, let's hold it right there, ha ha, silly thorn piggy bank making up stuff, ha ha. Like there ever was social unrest in China. Coo Koo. 

I think I've gotten off point a tad. The point is it was gone before I arrived. It was a shame really. A silly salvation free substitution for scandal and salutations. But at least it wasn't bloody whimsical. 

Swarming Backfireless Tadpoles

I feel like people don't hobnob as much as they used to. 

Hob? Sure. People hob all the time. Everywhere you go you hear people say 'wanna hob with me tonight' and the reply is always 'YYYYYEEEEEESSSSS!' Which is always said so loud that people for blocks in every direction know that a hob adventure is about to begin. Some get inspired and start their own plans to hob, others use it as an excuse to get upset with their partner or friends 'you haven't taken me to hob for days, you worthless piece of shit'. 

Yes when a hob is in the air joy spreads like a locust storm where we humans are the frogs ready to eat locusts till we're so full we nap for days missing our tadpoles first day with legs, and decide to make up for it we'll just make more tadpoles, leading to a future swarm of frogs, ready to be eaten by foxes, who get high on the toxins and finally find the courage to demonstrate their beautiful skill of being sly. 

Some people even take it further and hobble. Especially if you knee them in the groin. 

Nob? People nob all the time. Damn straight they do. People nob like the clappers, which is interesting because when you nob well the response you get IS clapping. As in applause. Sometimes even by foxes, at least those not all high on frog guts. 

Half the people you meet even ARE nobs. So much so they can't even spell knob. Which is spelled that way because the rich and the powerful in the 1600s made a super wise decision to make some things unnecessarily difficult knowing that if they kept teenagers in school learning non-sensesical crap those brats would have less time to notice (and therefore tease) them due to the lack of the invention of the razor meaning even the rich guys wives had hairy underarms. 

Of course this also kept potential inventors of the razor instead wasting their time learning non-sensical crap, but that's the flaw of fact, and the term 'well that backfired you tool' hadn't been invented yet because so far tools had proven mostly useful. 

To sum up - hob? Yes. Nob? Regularly. But when was the last time you heard the cool kids praise, or for that matter saw a movie or listened to a song, where hobnobbing was worshipped? It's like once or twice a week at most. 

I am sad to say, Hobnobbing is probably over people. Aww. 

And you know what that means? I'll never even get to find out what the hell it is. Damn asshole rich and powerful seventeenth century assholes. I hope the next time you tongue out an armpit it's unpleasant!!! 

You know what I'm goddamn absolutely talking about....

Today was the best day of my life everybody, because I learned something. Wow, I am not sure how that reads, but the way I said it in my head as I typed it sounded so absolutely pretentious and condescending. Which is perfectly fine, there is nothing wrong with being a total twat on the inside, as long as on the outside you’re not a dick.

So you know what happened just there, I was watching some footage of a comedian doing dick jokes and I thought to myself ‘I am glad I don’t do those very often these days’ and lo and also behold (yet another genitalia based saying) I go and talk about twats and dicks.

The point is that I am still on the road, for anyone following my journey. (Lots of pics over at my instagram by the way, over there I am called ok_intriguing – feel free to follow me). So yeah, ‘get back on track, get your blog done, and go to bed for fucks sake Dave’, ‘ok David, I am too tired to fight with you today’, ‘ Well also how about you never fucking’….

Aggggghhh….

I learned stuff or something. Wait, yes! I learned that if you have been out of any big cities for a month or so, and then you suddenly see one (in today’s case Melbourne) they can suddenly be daunting. Have you ever noticed big stuff is totally big? But even bigger when you’ve been looking at little stuff mostly recently?

I am not, I repeat NOT, talking about genitalia here.

Oh I did see a woman today carrying a baby, and also with a young child in her arms. By which I mean she had a camel toe that looked like a baby had been shoved in her pants.

I’m tired, have I pointed that out yet? I’ve been sleeping in my car, which is fine, I mean I woke up in a god damn oven today, but I slept ok. And I’ve been driving lots on my own. And having lots of fun. But I’m tired.

Penis, vagina, merry-go-round, silence ender, jovial farfetched, chronic, gargantuan, fillifester, bullwhip, clientele – yep, I can still think of a bunch of random words in a row, I’m just too tired to put any order or point to them. Goodnight everybody.

Ps. If you’re ever in a orgy, I recommend suddenly stopping in the middle, turning the lights off, and going to sleep, right in the middle of the activities, but first saying ‘goodnight everybody’ but do it in the most pretentious and condescending voice you can.  You may not be liked, but you will be remembered.

PPs. This also works if you’re ever in a meeting with high-powered lawyers who are suing you after your recent attempt to blackmail the UN into giving you a small South East Asian Country. 

PPPs. And by ‘UN’ I mean undercurrent neutrality. And by ‘undercurrent neutrality’ I am god damn absolutely talking about testicles.

A lesson in bars

I haven't written my blog for today yet. As I am sure fans of my past six months of stone cold stubbornness about never ever going to sleep without posting a blog that day, will have noticed and protested. 

I'd like to join in the rioting but I simply cannot, as I am in my car at a random truck stop, in the middle of nowhere with no phone coverage or Wi-Fi whatsoever, as this is where I stopped when it came to my attention that I needed to pull over immediately or carsick throw up on myself. I haven't puked yet, but I did make an awesome observation about it:

'Puke on the grass is probably exciting to certain animals, birds maybe. Exciting cause they can eat it is the point'. Yep, that's the type of witticism I can conjure at even my most sick feeling times. 

I shall post this tomorrow morning at some point, after hopefully sleeping off this car sick by sleeping in the car. But before I attempt that I do have one more amazing comedy point to make to you all:

'I think if monkeys could talk most of the stuff they'd say would be monkey related "I'm a monkey" for example' - and this is obviously a demonstration of what I think zoo school would be like, especially monkey zoo school. 

Night every body, wherever you are, time for me to car sleep off carsick, who knows what tomorrow will bring?   Ear poke my ear hole to alleviate an ear ache? Or maybe I'll just watch monkeys eat puke. 

Ps. When I woke up I discovered a heavily pregnant lady breast feeding (yes) right next to my previous nights toilet region. You know what that means right? I think she about to give birth to a monkey! 

I promise

I had a long day on the road today. Really fucking long. And on the road. Which, by the way, is my favorite place to be on when I'm driving. Like I spent three weeks driving on nothing but the bone marrow removed from aliens that was hoped could be turned into a cure for melancholy, until it was discovered that aliens like melancholy, because in their societies it's a sign of screw-ball insistence that air-born hilarity is possible in raspberry flavored coffee, and therefore discarded as a cure option and instead turned into a road surface for cars driven exclusively by humans who live their entire existence in a grounded reality completely devoid of flights of fancy and unconscionable excavations of the imagination, once and it wasn't as smooth as the road. And while I was on the road I came to the following conclusions. 

- I'm tired.

- Really tired. 

- I need some sleep. 

- Lots of sleep. 

- To relieve my tiredness. 

- Which is 'really' in nature. 

I just have to write my daily blog and then I can go to bed. Oh man, I'll start writing it soon, I promise. 

A VERY good reason

Ok, fine, I'll tell you a VERY good reason to climb the next random stack of discarded newspaper you stumble upon in a dark alley next the back entrance to a combination Malaysian/Singaporean restaurant that secretly hosts underground poker tournaments in their basement which are regularly frequented by both high powered public officials and highly ranked organized crime bosses who both tip equally well the young waitress who had been working there since she ran away from an abusive family and has now nearly saved enough money to start her dream degree in communications at the local university which previously had had a bad reputation due to an unfortunate prank pulled by a former student involving a famous actress and several bodily fluids, but that reputation is on the up and up since two students started a world renowned phone app development company which now proudly boasts their apps on ninety five percent of worldwide smart phones and who in two short years have expanded to having offices on three different continents and employees in the hundreds, while combining financial success with a very generous philanthropic side, contributing to charities including, but not limited to, Cancer research, get kids fit campaigns, and several projects helping citizens in third world countries with everything from fresh water availability to schooling - because climbing stuff is a good way to get onto stuff! That's why.

Supercharged Reevaluations

Holy crap, I've just been thunderstruck with a revealing revelation: 

The make-up and beauty product company 'Revlon' and the mostly dormant yet spirited ideology of social revolution which lives deep within our otherwise cynical souls actually have a shit ton in common. 

Consider these truthful truthinations of undeniable fact: 

- Both Revlon and social Revolution look good on someone's lips, as long as the color choice is complimentary to the wearers complexion and other style choices. 

- Julia Roberts and/ or at least one other highly decorated actress has been involved in both. 

- A tonne of shit weighs the exact same as a ton of hope. 

- Is it 'tonne' or 'ton'? Depends where you are right? 

- Where you are currently is EXACTLY where you are!

- Neither Revlon nor social revolution have solved the ultimate question of why silence can be deafening. 

- You know, metaphorically, silence won't literally make you deaf, but it can plant a seed of lonely discontent with the potential to grow into a deafening primal scream which could ultimately make a person consider making drastic changes in their lives in an attempt to excavate the loneliness via encouraging more personal friendships by perhaps changing their regular eye-shadow brand and/or joining a social justice crusade! 

Holy fuck. That was all fact. Holy fuck, this isn't a coincidence people, shit is going to go down. Oh plus they both have 'rev' in their name so they probably love super-charged automobiles. Well I for one am heading to the woods, where I'm going to shovel up a shit ton of hope it all works out ok!