Mojave Moon

Bored and withdrawn yet colourfully animated, a middle-aged carsalesperson orbits his existence, neither dissatisfied nor sincerely content, he curiously acquiesces to life's tomfoolery. 

The unexpected then emerging and quaintly tantalizing as he considers a proposal, a long day a drive into the unknown the desert notwithstanding its sweltering synergies. 

He's been recruited, a gorgeous damsel has indeed been locked down with abject familiarity, as has her daughter the brute's ambition for eternal stasis insipidly solidified. 

He doesn't quite understand the details the grand misfortune accompanying the fam, nor why he's there nor what he's to do with no explanation forthcoming aloha. 

The brute sees his happiness ruined as the tradition he loves is threatened by others, and conceives a rotten and fiendish yet clever plan to simultaneously dispose of his oblivious rivals. 

The desert abandoned things haunting peculiar when the trusted saviour finds a dead body in his trunk.

After which people steal his car.

Not boring.

Still one of those days. 

*Best not to grow too attached to things, eh dad, like the psycho in this movie?

**It's okay to be attached to things son, but you also have to be open to structural change. 

*I guess that kind of makes sense. Sometimes I hate it when things change, but at others it's kind of fun. 

**It's a shame you can't manage the unknown factor like a science experiment or a 500 word essay.

*But wouldn't that bring about artistic ruin?

**I suppose that's correct son. I suppose that's correct. 

Come on Alberta!

The rest of Canada loves you! 

You're like maple syrup or butter tarts!

Canada's Win-Win!

Love ya Alberta!

Találékony éleslátás. Kreatív magabiztosság. Ukrán képzelőerő.

Does Netflix have one crew that dubs everything?

Seriously, mom watches international Netflix shows all the time and the dubbing always sounds the same. 

Nieustraszona stypendystka. Odważny atletyzm. Wszechstronność Ukraińca.

Overboard

Absolutely adapting grandiose manifest in synthetic conjunctive rigamarole, as bucolic mystery enigmatically sheathes ostentatious origins through disenchantment.

A new life exceedingly envelopes the opulent damsel with thrifty means, and previously underdeveloped expectations suddenly take on didactic schmooze. 

It's a trick of course her new husband and family disbelieving their luck, as the oblivious plutocrat who blindly cheated them randomly shows up with amnesia. 

It's a new era in their lives, constructively complete with domestic bearings, instantaneously overwhelmed with comatose conjecture and improvised charm.

The lighter touch and the less severe endemic countenances prove endearing, a natural fit bewilderingly unbeknownst to the heartfelt darling metamorphosized. 

Yet as her unconscious helplessly seeks a broader path upon which to exemplify, her waking hours embrace play with mesmerized mischief and sincere conjuring. 

Should she choose to stay if she wakes up with consciousness accrued?

Or munificently synthesize the disparate means?

With bold immiscibility.

And thoroughbred temper.

*Is that how you and mom met dad?

**Not exactly son, not exactly.

*Does that kind of thing happen a lot?

**I imagine so son, I imagine so.

*I guess there are all kinds of ways people meet, you've got to be ready for anything. 

**It's important, takes time and care. 

*Flexibility.

**Tidal tenses. 

*Ebb and flow.

**Mercurial routine. 

In a series where teams routinely blew each other out, that was a game 7 for the ages. 

Amazing to see the Habs pick up another hard fought series win! 🏒  

 

Enviable subtlety. Compelling discretion. Ukrainian sophistication. 

It would be cool to see a film with a three-headed monster, one head, Sherlock from Elementary, another, Ron Burgundy from Anchorman, the other, the classic Roy Scheider, in who knows what scenario. 

Opfindsom intuition. Kreativt bureau. Ukrainsk strategi. 

Scribalsamicrophonetic

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Trucks

Machinery has on awkward occasion posed philosophical questions while at work, the consistent use of fuel-powered-entities blended with distraction leading to hypotheses. 

Such theories no doubt imaginatively aided by consistently observing different narratives throughout life, the uncanny ludicrous application of televisual conceit to work and play.

But if oil and gas is eventually created as life inevitably dissolves, it was therefore once indubitably alive in possession of thought and spirit and appetite (Plato).

Machines inarguably seem inanimate when not turned on when lying dormant, with no fuel warmly generating power to encourage motion and requisite function. 

But when active does the fuel they burn once composed of life once again draw breath?, ontologically igniting ancient schematics blueprints attuned to reanimation. 

As the reignited organic material takes hold of the metallic construction, it nurtures different kinds of behaviour, which is why machines seem like they have personalities. 

Thus, one takes it easy with older machines less intimately acquainted with flexible immediacy, while it's fun to reasonably play with brand new constructions recently made.

Trucks takes things to the next level and gleefully removes the human factor, the trucks indeed suddenly turning on their once unsuspecting masters.

As they take over the small town of Bridgeton there's little that the lords can do.

Besides try to find a way to get out of there.

Before machine-kind embodies absolute rule. 

*Isn't this what you'd call crackpottery dad, machines coming to life and killing everyone?

**That's certainly an argument you can make son, although the off-kilter theory still mystifies.

*Tough to stop your mind from wandering when doing boring stuff, isn't it dad?

**It's helped to make so many cool stories.

*I still don't think machines are alive.

**You're probably right. But, really, who's to say? 

*Sigh. Okay, maybe driverless cars are a bad idea.

**Good to keep humans in the loop son.

*No doubt. I don't know what I was thinking.

**A.I can't freakin' drive cars. 

*Loved the station wagon. 

Cool how trees hang out on the sides of mountains for decades. 🏔 🌲

Urođeni integritet. Intuitivna snaga. Ukrajinska duhovnost. 

You'd think searching for treasure at the bottom of the ocean would be futile, since people have been doing it for so many millennia, but new treasures end up at the bottom of the ocean every day, thereby replenishing the supply of difficult to find yet enticing seabound treasures. 🛥

The Bear

The age old urge to hunt still widely adopted by many across the land, the animals vastly outnumbered by our ever increasing population.

It does seem like our trusty home planet can't sustain even more eager hunting, although the hunters themselves are often some of the keenest environmentalists. 

They've effectively worked to create a system that monitors resident animal populations, and efficiently gives out requisite tags meticulously designed to keep up the numbers.

It's not something I would ever do I'm so harmless I hesitate to squash mosquitoes, but if wildlife populations can sustain hunting, letting people hunt is much less cumbersome than banning it.

As I've mentioned before, it's also a good way for many Northern families to get food during the winter, which is often shared throughout the community, and if wisely managed, animal populations aren't threatened (and people aren't grumpy).

I don't like trophy hunting however and the arguments will never convince me,  I may agree with someone just to shut them up, but I'll never support superfluous animal killing.

At least if people are using modern weapons and elaborate technology to track the animals, our advantage is so lopsided that I don't see any skill or honour in the undertaking.

An animal like a bear is usually harmless anyways, they often just go about their business eating a routine vegetarian diet. 

They're nothing like the openly hostile xenomorphs in the Alien franchise, whose natural instincts unilaterally demand they never stop fighting no matter what.

If you wanted to hunt an animal and you were simply dropped off in the bush somewhere, and you had to survive with what the wilderness provides, and construct your weapons from natural material, then hunting becomes more honourable, but I still don't see the point.

Neither did Jean-Jacques Annaud when he made his beautiful film The Bear, wherein which we find a loveable cub living and dreaming on its own in the Northern wilderness.

Delicately within, he tenderly presents ursine sublimity through natural wonder, to humbly suggest why not just leave these solitary shy individuals alone?

It's a really cool thing when you see a bear just move away slowly and keep your distance.

Bear populations don't bounce back quickly.

They're not hurting anyone.

Why bother hunting them? 

Psst - don't worry. Most of the American League isn't playing well. The Jays have plenty of time to turn it around! ⚾

 Happy Mother's Day, moms out there! 

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Doctor Dolittle

Interspecies communication does still at times remain mysterious, wilderness whimsy and domestic thrills elusively cloaked in restrained viscosity. 

Observation as opposed to communication may lead to less accusations of eccentricity, as people less familiar with the natural world inadvertently gaze with nostalgic wonder.

Food and shelter, warmth and comfort, still effectively govern so much animal life, with a steady supply of tasty treats so many wild creatures no doubt relax.

Not to the point of close interactions, should you be seen they'll likely retreat, unless they become crazy accustomed to your presence and learn to trust you through acts of goodwill (no word of a lie, a squirrel just jumped on my head! [crazy! {then scampered away}]).

A raccoon was crossing a road in front of me so I took some hasty opaque photos, before I decided to squeak or make a noise that suddenly startled him, so he ran up a tree.

Then I got some good photos as he turned to inspect what had made the sound, although he didn't remain still for very long, and I didn't get as many as I was hoping.

There's a special melody when I whistle when I'm swimming that this year I've adapted to function as bird song, and I whistle it whenever out and about with the unacknowledged guidance of improvised tender. 

It is amazing how much the animals really love their wilderness home, you see a lot of them on nature shows, the injured animals delicately taken care of by concerned staff and dedicated doctors, before being released back into the wild, where they dart off at lightning speed.

It is nice to have your own place to freely return to after work, with your routine and your habitual ways hardly ever criticized as you do this and that.

The ocean must prodigiously function like a limitless migratory freeway, where whales and dolphins can actively chill as days go by from year to year.

Do they think we're angels?

I must admit, I think they do.

There's something about the look in their eyes. 

Like spiritual ecstasy. 

Foaming and frothing.   

Little Richard - when you hear other people trying to play the same songs he covered or wrote, including some crazy huge heavyweights, there's really no comparison. 🎹

Misneachd neo-sheasmhach. Neart smachdail. Togaileachd Ucràineach. 

Does the excessive emphasis on hierarchy and rank make competition seem impossible in order to narrow the playing field?

 Egitura multikulturala. Bizi-indarra erraztua. Ukrainar lasaitasuna. 

Field of Dreams

August absurdity ludicrously smitten unassumingly attempts to fulfill salient dreams, a mysterious voice, haunting and tantalizing, non-traditionally invoking spiritual temper.

The flamboyant drive to lackadaisically imagine random initiatives and residual endeavours, at times resounding with emphatic simplicity so ritualistically clear it sincerely baffles.

In the age of science and reason caution should no doubt effectively guide, otherworldly ambitions fantastically delineated feverishly according to blinding sights.

Nutrient rich celestial reckoning at times practically and concretely frowned upon, literary anguish liberating in sermon creative liturgies divinely improvised. 

Resonant collectivity or "group dynamics" can customarily achieve abstract enlightenment, like Deleuze's bewitching ethereal entities gallantly awaiting throughout the cosmos. 

The acquisition of neighbourly support for goals and objectives interdimensionally transmitted, may lead to athletic industrious "leg work" as disbelief awkwardly materializes. 

Within the transcendental realm as moderately applied to books and film, more cultural leaning may theoretically syndicate poetic jive and cerebral exhibition.

If only a mutually inclusive sociopolitical playing field indeed adopted, harmonious respect for its philosophical counterparts in terms of conscience and inherent curiosity. 

Would asylums then be less committed to the regular detention of debatable "madness", and more efficaciously attuned to cosmopolitan alternative life?

More resources could be spent on the viably insane and they could live in greater comfort, transitioning from one unbeknownst psychology to another and another and another through mental exercise. 

The definitive embrace of elective alternatives seemed like the gold standard years ago, multivariably equating the seemingly incongruous with ephemeral substance and illusory charm.

Multidisciplinary integrity intergalactically fuming with geometric insight, never led to destructive wars or remarkable sudden increases in the price of fuel.

"Build it", indeed I say, "why not?", "there's probably nothing else to do".

Try to finish the project before December.

Then see what's up next year.

Could be fun.