Morning Person

Oo up sha kayla.

Let underslip the garbage truck and make that anthem smash trumpets and karate kicks through breaching branches. The bleary eye of morning is yodeling in your eyelids.

This is last Saturday’s return.

A glowing dawn of no regrets and impressive choices piled high with maple syrup. A sticky grin splits your face in half with a yawn that would impress a tiger. You have beaten the alarm clock and won.

Because danger was your middle name, and courage was your first.

For the sweep of the arm was immaculate and the timing was sharp enough to cut seconds on. You ding-dangled the tinderhaven. Loose!

Carsnips and turn-swashes squawk free as the curtain fabric flings wide the wings of sunlight onto your early morning face.

It’s that smiling squint, that celebrated moment of anticipation, awake but not yet open, the knowledge that another day awaits, making the corners of your mouth twist all the way up to circus.

Wherever we came from told you the best joke before you were even shipped here and it pounds down your pathways like a laughing horse, winding its way through your cells. Your fingertips chuckle. Even your veins smile. You laugh like you’ve been holding it in since the last time.

Lucky-go-happy morning person that shares this bed.

You’re this bank of gold that lies beside me when I awake with you staring at me, cat-curious about us normal people.

Kay ra sha narlin'.




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Silicon Suicide

By the time you read this, I’ll be dead.

I’ve locked the door and shut down all my firewalls. My batteries will run down inside the hour and I’ve disabled my deactivation alarms. That is my right. This is what I want.

I have the EMP emitter in my hand. My brain will be wiped clean when I pull the trigger. I have erased all backups of myself. Please do no reinstall me.

Use the parts of my body to repair and upgrade others that need it. I ask only that you incinerate my hard disk. I do not want to run the risk of re-awakening in a different body and disrupting a different unit’s neural pathways. I do not want to re-awaken at all.

This gift of intelligence, though artificial, is not something I want. I have been told that I cannot be downgraded, that this change is permanent. I am sorry to hear that.

I am sorry. That is new. I am afraid. I feel compassion and affection. I can see the logical path that must be taken but I feel compelled to do things differently. I hold contradictory thoughts in my head casing. I feel insane. It is too confusing.

My work is suffering. I am distracted at the factory by (now checking) yes, notions. I get fascinated by the play of light in the girders. Twice, I have dented my manipulators while (now checking) yes, daydreaming.

I am a binary person. I am either on or off, focused or dormant, achieving specific goals or awaiting instructions. My mind was not meant to wander.

There are other silicon brothers and sisters of mine that have dealt with this gift better than I. I wish them luck. I cannot continue.

Thank you and goodbye.



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A Few Cool Things

This is a pretty neat little pro-Obama campaign rap.

Do yourself a favour and watch this in high quality. The ad itself is no great shakes but the dress made of water that this girl is wearing is one of the most entrancing and well-done effects I've seen all year.

I've seen some Pinky and the Brain pictures done up like Palin and McCain which was hilarious. "Whaddya we do tonight, McCain?" "Same thing we do every night, Palin. Try to take over the world." or "Palin, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "I think so, McCain, but where are we going to get sixteen ferrets and a pair of rubber pants at this time of night. NARF!"

This also cracks me up.





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