It all went by so quickly...

It happens so fast. You prepare for the big showdown. It's the meeting, the greeting, the performance, the test, the takeoff, the experience. And, it's gone before you know it. Hold fast, and be generally aware of that uber-tacular vibe that runs through your veins and makes you want to fly a rocket to the moon. Controllable, burnable, what a beautiful disaster. You love to hate it, even when you knew you never were meant for such a life. Pace by pace, a few steps ahead, over barriers that once tore you into tiny paper shreds. Find the tempo, hum along, and go with the flow...

Rule the World.

Gold. Second place, first loser.
Top of the Mountain. You climbed pretty far.
Die a hero. Don't waste a minute less than best.
The daredevil with the smile. You're grinning.
Go ahead, rule the world.

A Commerical Success

Did you bring it to market? Packaged and wrapped, did it appear like you did more than you actually put in? Well, duh, welcome Mr. Business Suit and Tie. If you play your cards right, I'm thinking you may have gotten away with not existing. Just by writing your name on a carbon-bound paper, and turning it in like gravy on an undercooked chicken breast, you could be a hero. The audience would clap, because they only see the visual plane that you represent. What hides beneath that candy-coated shell? Layer by layer, one day it's all going to come undone. Humor me, and put the inside on the outside. Invert the self, and have a little fun in the process. Commercially, you're hooked.

Static. Discharge.

***Republican Dictatorship***

--Due to popular vote, we bring you this uncensored commercial interruption:

"YOU SUCK."

--Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

What is culture(?): from biggie to small - there's one for all.

You got a little, we all got a little. How you cook your rice. How you braid your hair. How you call your grandparents an indigenous name, passed on generation...after generation. Little Squat. Parakeet Princess. Walk tall little one. So you're sitting there, wondering why you put your fork 'where the fork goes'. It's not as complicated as flower arrangements or candelabra placement in a church, but it's something cultural. What do you really consider culture? The urban legends tell tales of ink-blotted insignia running arm's-length down the fulcrum of some kid's weapon arm. Is that splurt just as worthy of a sub note in Britannica as the Don of an Italian piazza. Of course, the eskimos are chillin' in the North, the Incas WERE livin' mountainside, some dude is trying to get easy with an Egyptian expatriate, with Oompa Loopas making chocolate in the midwest, as Communism still happens. Culture, frame of reference? Culture, fact or fascination?