farleft, burgundy is right…please tred softly…I don’t comment much but always read the comments because they are usually funnier than some of the comics and always interesting but that evolution thing….whew…
Afraid to discuss “Spontaneous Genetic Reorganization”? Self-Amending(D-I-Y) Organisms? Or as I like to call it…The Magic Fish? I believe the latest Evolutionary mea culpa is the Meme Principle. A self -sentience at the molecular level responsible for directing the process of”evolution”. Or another one is Pan-Spermia, in which the Earth was seeded from “beyond”. This was considered as a solution to the problem that it is statistically impossible for the processes of evolution to have occurred on the Earth as per the evolutionist’s current models. Another is Punctuated Equilibrium or the “Hopeful” Monster Meme to explain why there are no transitional fossils and why some organisms thought to be older progenitors of others turn out to spring onto the stage after the others fully formed and hale, remaining unchanged through to their extinction. Most if not all organisms appear this way in the fossil record, called saltation : An abrupt appearance, with no discernible progenitors, an unchanged organism lasting until its demise or current existence. No populations of mutants or monstera to pin the tail on the donkey so to speak. There are theories and then there are Theories…and then there is Science which is made up of facts.
I sense a certain sadness, as certain as any other’s. It’s washed into the corners of her eyes by tea spilled on the triteness of Cavenagh Street and its measured chaos. Hot angles. Parking. I laugh nervously and preen my hair, all of forty years old trying to remember how to be an infatuated sixteen again.
She kissed me in a dream a month ago.
It could not have been any other. No two people kiss alike.
I’ve heard her sing. Franz Mesmer rocks in his grave. I’m re-taken by The Triffids, melody, slow-baked innocence, unmoneyed artists, open stages, freedom, concert effort, wonderscapes, a band life I don’t understand. Her laugh is a new ringtone. Call me.
She pulls an impromptu shawl against the night. I implore a lens to be kind to her. It’s just truthy. I see her on my computer, lips frozen. I sing back. I send some photos. I’m not a narcissist she says. I know she’s right.
I find an excuse to invade her birthday. She greets and polites me. I watch the back of her head, on and off, for two hours. She lives in a world made of music, music, and I feel too silent, silent.
Contrivance deals us a table. Arts policy makes for lunch of more than just plates. I want to hold her hand and squeeze life into it. There’s a grubby rub-a-dub-duck and a key unlocking something.
I’d love to see her again. I’ll make puppy-eyes and she’ll say ‘I don’t need a dog, I’ll be my own best friend.’ We’ll both laugh, as we deserve to. A-flying, a-dreaming, a-grinning we will go!
margueritem almost 16 years ago
You look a bit cobbled together there, son. It may be more than just your heart…
ejcapulet almost 16 years ago
Creepy
cleokaya almost 16 years ago
I have a home for you my lad. And it is far, far away from my own.
Hugh B. Hayve almost 16 years ago
Hey…it’s my long lost spiritual brother!
dermandro almost 16 years ago
This is great.
Hugh B. Hayve almost 16 years ago
Ok wiseguy…then explain the “Jerry Springer Show”.
lacurious1 almost 16 years ago
farleft, burgundy is right…please tred softly…I don’t comment much but always read the comments because they are usually funnier than some of the comics and always interesting but that evolution thing….whew…
NoFearPup almost 16 years ago
Afraid to discuss “Spontaneous Genetic Reorganization”? Self-Amending(D-I-Y) Organisms? Or as I like to call it…The Magic Fish? I believe the latest Evolutionary mea culpa is the Meme Principle. A self -sentience at the molecular level responsible for directing the process of”evolution”. Or another one is Pan-Spermia, in which the Earth was seeded from “beyond”. This was considered as a solution to the problem that it is statistically impossible for the processes of evolution to have occurred on the Earth as per the evolutionist’s current models. Another is Punctuated Equilibrium or the “Hopeful” Monster Meme to explain why there are no transitional fossils and why some organisms thought to be older progenitors of others turn out to spring onto the stage after the others fully formed and hale, remaining unchanged through to their extinction. Most if not all organisms appear this way in the fossil record, called saltation : An abrupt appearance, with no discernible progenitors, an unchanged organism lasting until its demise or current existence. No populations of mutants or monstera to pin the tail on the donkey so to speak. There are theories and then there are Theories…and then there is Science which is made up of facts.
plight almost 16 years ago
I sense a certain sadness, as certain as any other’s. It’s washed into the corners of her eyes by tea spilled on the triteness of Cavenagh Street and its measured chaos. Hot angles. Parking. I laugh nervously and preen my hair, all of forty years old trying to remember how to be an infatuated sixteen again.
She kissed me in a dream a month ago. It could not have been any other. No two people kiss alike.
I’ve heard her sing. Franz Mesmer rocks in his grave. I’m re-taken by The Triffids, melody, slow-baked innocence, unmoneyed artists, open stages, freedom, concert effort, wonderscapes, a band life I don’t understand. Her laugh is a new ringtone. Call me.
She pulls an impromptu shawl against the night. I implore a lens to be kind to her. It’s just truthy. I see her on my computer, lips frozen. I sing back. I send some photos. I’m not a narcissist she says. I know she’s right.
I find an excuse to invade her birthday. She greets and polites me. I watch the back of her head, on and off, for two hours. She lives in a world made of music, music, and I feel too silent, silent.
Contrivance deals us a table. Arts policy makes for lunch of more than just plates. I want to hold her hand and squeeze life into it. There’s a grubby rub-a-dub-duck and a key unlocking something.
I’d love to see her again. I’ll make puppy-eyes and she’ll say ‘I don’t need a dog, I’ll be my own best friend.’ We’ll both laugh, as we deserve to. A-flying, a-dreaming, a-grinning we will go!
But we don’t, do we.
flyingflowerpot over 15 years ago
I have a problem succ¢- eeding in love too.
6turtle9 over 3 years ago
How can such creepy eyes be such a dreamy blue? Boy, how many times have I heard that…