The Best Day Of My Life Tauntation – I want to see the directors cut

Hi everyone, hi boys, hi girls, hi moms, hi dads, hi school, hi on drugs, hi in the sky and even hi people.

By the way ‘in the sky’ is my friend from Cambridge Massachusetts, who is so high up in the FBI that he has the plum job of working undercover as a mole person, so shame on you if you thought I would say hi to anyone or anything that has even the slightest thing to do with drugs.

This is not a blog where I would ever mention such things. Not that I am against them, nor for them. Whether you are talking traditional prescription, popular recreational, or whatever the hell it is they give you at the dentist which makes it so that when people are writing movies about the dentist the hygienist is always portrayed as a sexy young woman, when in real life she is a guy who’s rubber gloves and meaty fingers make you self-conscious about how much blood you’re spitting up, because you know, meaty fingers, rubber gloves, um we all know what that means don’t we? Yep, he probably doesn’t moonlight as a masseuse because they don’t wear gloves, and both those jobs are predominantly daytime activities, so ‘moon’lighting doesn’t make a lick of sense.

This is a blog about how today was the best day of my life, something which I may or may not have achieved drug free. I mean I do have sore gums, but who knows if that was from a forgotten trip to the dentist or some form of gum disease? How could you possibly know?

Wait, I know. I will write a movie about a dentist and see what the hygienist looks like.

Int. Day – A dentist’s office. The sun is bathing the window with warmth, but barely affecting the room, as the dentist had recently installed mirrored windows and the sun was predominantly reflecting off this glass and being redirected into a small room in an adjacent building, where a small old lady had has been accidently sun ray cooked to death, and given to a weird scientific anomaly, her terrible mush diet, gangrened poorly healed hip replacement surgery wounds due to attempting to do it herself as she didn’t want to bother her husband by asking him a question, and the fact that a flock of cockatoos have found a way into her apartment and decided she makes an excellent storage place for half alive half eaten worms, has rendered her smelling unexplainably and uncannily like mushy gangrene worm stew. There is a patient in the dentist’s chair and the dentist stands over him holding a fucking violent looking poking device.

Dentist

Hmmmm

Patient

Huh

Dentist

Mmmm

Patient

What?

Dentist

Ohhhh

Patient

What the fuck is it?

Dentist

Oh nothing. Well you clearly have such disgusting halitosis that I will be forced to quit dentistry at the end of the day and take up residence in a Buddhist temple mumbling to myself for the rest of my days, you fucking disgusting cunt. But it looks like you’ve flossed once since I last saw you. You’re my first patient ever to do that, so yeah, thanks.

The dental hygienist enters. She is curvy, like real fucking gorgeous body, in a tight little nurse’s outfit that really shows off her shape. Although her head is the physical embodiment of this disgusting prick’s breath. She is the type of woman that if you were trying to figure out whether or not you’d recently had whatever it is that the dentist gives you so that if you ever write a movie and have a dental hygienist as a character, that you’d be shit out of luck. It really would depend on where the camera focused on her. I am sure you could shoot her any number of ways to make her look insanely beautiful. But you could also shoot her to make her look ugly, repugnant even. Obviously this is just the script, so it will depend on how the director chooses to capture her.

Oh fuck me. Being a film writer sucks. That script really tells me nothing about my day. Damn it, I am going to have to use my memory. Right, so I remember that it was so awesome that I wanted to taunt the day over it. So much so that I coined the word ‘tauntation’ which means the situation of taunting. So I guess I’ll just stick with that.

Hey Day

Yeah you

You were awesome

So bloody good

Loved ya

Best ever even

Oh fuck me. That’s not taunting, that’s praise. Oh well it is what it is. Anyway, I am off to brush me teeth, I am suddenly worried about them for some inexplicable reason.

http://www.amazon.com/Ok-Intriguing-Hell-Yeah-Awesomenessous/dp/1491745061 

The Best Day of my Life fragmentation – The desire copulation

Welcome to the best day of my life fragmentation, the blog I write when I want to shatter the myth of the lost art of perfection recognition. And by ‘lost’ I of course mean – never existed. And by ‘perfect’ I of course mean – an imagination. And by ‘shatter’ I of course mean – destroy any signs of shape, color, form, and other forms of boundaries.

Today was the best day of my life – and I will tell you why? Because it wasn’t the best day of my life, at least as would be measured on any normal chart of acceptance or display.

I feel like using words today. Different words, unique words, words that don’t normally go together like say for example ‘goat javelin’.

Wait, goat javelin would be an awesome sport, way better than regular javelin. Unless this sport consisted of throwing javelins at goats. Or involved throwing goats like they were javelins. Or involved goats in anyway. Or throwing things. At least if those things didn’t involve a ball, a team, teamwork, rules, good sportsmanship, athletic ability and an absence of goats. 

Ok, so I had a weird day. I gave into some fears and anxiety, at least in small bursts. And in the frustration of allowing myself this folly of failure, I find myself emerging back into the more mentally positive ether of the late evening with a new desire for individuality, expression and distinctiveness. Hence tonight’s blog. Involved evolution of involuntary personification, if you will.

And now for something more inspirational, or profound, or at least involving some semblance of a coherent point:

My life is not perfect – I mean it can’t be because above, with the mere act of statement, I proved without a shadow of a doubt that perfection is a mere figment of the imagination. My life is far from fulfilling even the most illuminated possibility of this imagined utopia. But since starting this project I have been forced, nay privileged, to end the day not with beating myself up, but rather with a task to find the nuggets of good hidden within the KFC mixed bucket of chicken variety. Today I find a delicious nugget deeper within the bucket than I hoped, but found it I did, and this blog is the dipping of this nugget into the delicious dipping sauce. As long as no part of this nugget was made of goat, then I am headed for bed a happy. Man.

And yeah man, I meant it, that full stop/ period there was far from a fucking accident, man. I am a happy. Why would I ever want to be a ‘man’? Shudder, the horror, don’t they like have responsibilities and shit?  I don’t want any part of responsibilities; I don’t even want to look at a crude mock up of them on a normal chart of acceptance or display! Man.

The Best Day Of my Life Fulfillment – Over my shoulder

This shall be a short blog this evening. Short in length, but not in spirit. For the spirit is long, as are the teeth of the day, for it has been a long day, and therefore I must keep this blog short, for otherwise my sleep will be short, which will extend the length of time I spend tomorrow being tired, which makes me less likely to find the energy for a long blog tomorrow, which I may well be inspired to write, as I already know it shall be the best day of my lif

You know?

It’s kind of weird actually, that’s the first time that I have looked forward since I started this little tour de project here. I look upon my day as the best of my life, which means it was better than yesterday, which itself was better than the day before. But when looking forward the equation is, wait I wrote this as a tweet once many suns ago (why does the moon always get credit in length of time metaphors! Needy bastard).

It turns out that if you live everyday like it was is the best of your life, then in a couple of years today really is going to seem like it sucked.

That was the tweet. I think. Although I am not sure I ever posted it. I do that a lot, I write tweets into my phone, and then judge myself over how I will be judged by them, and then don’t end up tweeting them. That’s kind of stupid. Who even reads my tweets? Few, that’s who, and that rhymes which means it’s poetry, and poetry is sad.

Ok, screw it – I am going into my phone and finding a lost tweet, I haven’t done that in ages, what could possibly go wrong?

This is from July 24 2012

‘If I’d been the one to invent cornflakes I’d be really old right now’.

Why on earth did I deny the world that genius?

I’ll tell you why, because it didn’t need to be said until it was the best day of my life, which is today.

Until tomorrow, which will be a short day if I have a long sleep, which I will decide upon shortly when I take the long walk to my bed, before a short think over what time I should set me alarm for, before my typical long time waiting to fall asleep, which will cause me lengthy efforts in anxiety and frustration, but also short breaths of fire, which I only let out late at night when no one is around, because I don’t like too many people to know I am part dragon, or else they ask me questions about Game of Thrones, which is a lengthy series of books, and require a long wait for the next season.

Oh fuck, I am on page two of this word document, which means this blog is way longer than I intended. Well I refuse to be mad at myself; for sometimes giving a little length is worth it for discoveries of genius cornflake smarts.

Plus I got through a whole blog regularly using the word ‘length’ without a single dick joke! Yay for me.

The Best Day of My life Dedication – yep still

Today was the best day of my life. That doesn’t mean my day was perfect. Oh no siree. Like for example at one point today my alarm went off on my phone, which is the alarm I use to wake me up in the morning, and at the time this alarm went off I was presently in the position I normally find myself in when I am asleep, or one of the positions if I am honest, I have twelve very distinct sleeping positions, which you can study in more detail by reading one the many essays I have written on the subject of sleep positioning for medical journals around the world, both online and off, and sometimes even BOTH!

Although if you want a summation of my position on sleep positioning it can be neatly summarized by summarizing this sentence – ‘sleep position sucks’. Which is a very hard sentence to summarize, because by definition a summary should be shorter than the thing it was summarizing, and in this example the thing that needs to be summarized is only three words, and frankly all three words are very key to the argument, and make up deeply thought provoking reasoning behind the conclusion as discussed in the theory. But shorten it we must, I guess, because that’s the way I promised that a summation of my position could best be attained.

Ok, let’s try – sleep sucks.

Well, ok, that’s a summation, it falls within the criteria of that definition – but frankly I do not concur with this conclusion, so I will try again.

Here we go – sleep position.

Well that tells us fuck all. One more try.

Position sucks.

Ok, fine, I will admit it. I broke of more than I could chew, and frankly I wouldn’t want to chew it because even though I very much enjoy the flavor of ‘failure to make my point’, I find the texture to be a tad stringy for my taste. Wait, that last line was an idiom failure if I have ever smelled one.

So my phone alarm was going off.

Oh wait, I remember a summation of my position on sleep positions that I remembered being satisfied with – I think limiting and/or extending your sleep positions to exactly twelve is both stupid and difficult.

That’s a bit long now that I think about it. I might try to summarize it.

Ok, here goes – sleep position.

Fuck! We’re back there again.

So my phone alarm goes off, and you know what? I wasn’t happy about it, because at that time I was asleep, and I wasn’t about to wake up if my alarm had not gone off, which is a sure sign to me that I did not want to be awake, as was the cursing, hitting my phone, and saying ‘shut the fuck up phone, I am not ready to get up okay, I am not FUCKING READY! BE QUIET. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!’

Now, I typically count my day as starting, not at midnight when the calendar says I should, but when I wake up for the day, like we all did till those Ancient Aztec Pharaohs like Socrates and Freud invented the calendar and the moon to fuck with us. So at this time, during which I was screaming blue murder, red murder, and even burgundy murder at my phone, this time had by this time taken up pretty much my entire day at this time. So at one point my day was almost a hundred percent negative, by this time when looking at time based on a time system.

Then lots went on. Lots of it really shitty. It’s been a hard day to be Australian, and live in Sydney. This blog is not to discuss things like the awful events still unfolding as I write. I wish and hope for the best for everyone involved.

This blog is to focus on the good. The day started awful, as always, for me. Never once have I been happy to wake up. Then some good stuff happened today too. I conversed with some people I care about. I had some laughs. I barely ate all day, other than a few healthy snacks, which I choose to believe is the right thing for my health. So yeah, I choose to still say it was the best day of my life, and leave it at that.

(Ps I also think I saw a ghost in my apartment. I thought the same thing last night. I think if it happens a third time I will write about it – or at least give a very clear summation of the experience).

The Best Day of My Life Opportunity – that’s the spirit

When I first conceived of this new direction for my blog about a month or so ago, although I already must confess that it wasn’t first thought of a month or so ago, it was thought of over a couple of years, but yet frequently abandoned, because I thought it would be too much work, and too hard to maintain at the awe inspiring levels I always set as my minimum allowed.

But ok, so that’s just the point. When I decided a month or so ago to say ‘fuck it, just fucking write everyday, cause you love to do so, and don’t care about results, or any…

Ok, so – the point is there was only one rule or policy for doing this – that I didn’t plan shit in advance, but rather wrote free form from the place where my imagination meets my memories from the day, only with a spirit of remembering the day as if it was the best day of my life, and more than that, to spend the day as if it is the best of my life, and let the writing of this therefore take care of itself, after you know, chucking all that shit in a blender and then adding maple syrup for sweetness, only to discover drinks made up of ideas are occasionally not as good as pancakes.  

Wait, Ok, but that’s all fine, but I keep failing, I keep pre-planning, or at least thinking about what I am going to write in some way. To be honest I even pre-thought about writing a blog tonight about how I don’t want to pre-think stuff anymore. Then I allowed myself to do it again anyway, and I haven’t every night, to be clear, even some…

Fuck it – today is the best day of my fucking life, why am I trying to quantify or qualify, or explain, or any of that shit, it’s against everything this blog is about.

Ok, so time for the real blog, just whatever comes into my head, but while still keeping in mind the thoughts about direction I only partially summarized above, before abandoning for being against the very thing they are trying to quantify.

Rules man, rules suck. I mean they do have their place in a civilized society, like if there were no rules anywhere, it would be damn hard to find a place that sold excellent donuts, because they’d probably all be stolen, and full of razor blades, because if someone was stealing my donuts everyday you better believe they’d have razor blades in them. Or maybe not even razor blades, cause you can see those too easily in a donut, all metallic and sharp and stuff, and frankly I think those properties would fly directly in the face of what I was attempting to achieve as a master donut craftsman, have I promoted myself a couple of times, in terms of my donut making title, or qualifications, so far in this paragraph? I am not sure, but frankly I deserve a promotion. I am a master crafter donut staffer, which actually sounds like a lesser position, because of the whole ‘staffer’ element, where as I assume I’d be the boss – but you know why I think I’d be the boss? Because I sure as hell would not bake, or fry, or microwave no donuts that looked so metallic and sharp that you could hide a razor blade inside of one and not have it easy to notice. So if people were stealing my donuts, I’d probably have to stick it to them with some form of poison, or miniature self-shooting pistol, or possibly even just make a batch or two of ones that don’t taste good, then give them to the crooks, who wouldn’t actually be crooks in this scenario, because of the lack of rules in this society, and after these miscreants had stolen a couple of bad batches in a row they’d stop stealing, and I could go back to selling my delicious creations, at high and yet reasonable prices and we’d once again have peace on earth.

But we don’t currently have peace on earth, and maybe, just maybe it’s because I haven’t encountered just the right conditions necessary to inspire me to take up baking.

Ok, so the point is – I have no idea where all that last section came from, or what, if any, point I meant to make is it there.

But fuck that.

I think we have all learned something here today – rules are good only when they are good. And I don’t think anyone has ever thought of that before, let alone said it.

The point is, today was the best day of my life. I did a shit ton of acting and filming, and LOVED it, I saw a beautiful sunset, and I ate some delicious cake. I’m sure at least one of those three things will have an impact on my life at a future date, even if the connection is tenuous at best. If it does though, I will be as surprised as you are, because I aint pre-planning shit anymore.

Wait I think that last sentiment was actually the point I was trying to make all along. 

Ok, so does that mean I am opening a donut shop or not?