"The mind is it's own place, and in itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n".

A quote I stole from Seasons of Mist, volume 4 in the Sandman series hearing Harlan Ellison suck off Neil's writing prose. :D

And then....

"God's not looking for ability. He's looking for availability." -Joel Osteen.

I just got done reading that in one of Joel Osteen's books: "Become a Better You".

As I read that ingenious statement yesterday while taking a shit, I thought long and hard about the definition of "avail-a-bility".

Usually when I am trying to form my own opinion of what a word means in my OWN definition and how it connects to the personal world around me that I have managed to fashion for myself, I try to break a word up into syllables and focus on each syllable as a word all on it's own (when possible). I then take turns with each individual word and piece each definition together until I begin to make sense of the equation and how it all fits into my own calculated realm of nonsense.

Now comes the fun part....

I bust out THE DICTIONARY. I usually have to make sure I've got plenty of time on my hands once I break this baby out, because, like I read in one of Sex's blogs awhile back (critique series number 3, last paragraph. Yes I stalk the bitch, GET OVER IT), getting the dictionary out can be risky business for a busy body. Once you find a definition for ONE word, you quickly find yourself looking up another word. And then it leads to a trail of millions of other words, and the next thing you know you're keeled over in your computer chair, nose deep in a cocaine heap of syntax addiction.

Alas, knowledge is power. And words the great almighty sword of Victor & Destiny.

So, like, back to the word AVAIL. There's a really cool punk band called AVAIL.This is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word AVAILABLE. Group it with the word ABILITY, and you have a whle new word with a completely different ambience added to it.

The word AVAIL is defined as: to be of use, help, or worth. Ironically enough, the word AVAILABILITY is not available in my dictionary, but of course, "AVAILABLE" is. It is described as follows: 1. that can be used 2. that can be gotten or had, handy.

Incidentally, the word AVANT-GARDE is one word directly beneath AVAILABLE and again, as Sex speaks of, the word addiction begins.

AVANT-GARDE is defined as: (to MY spectacularly schitzophrenic delight!) the leaders in new movements, especially in the arts; vangaurd.

So then of course I go on a mad hunt for the dictionary's definition of VANGUARD. (Keep in mind I already have a pretty good sense of what most of these words mean, but there is just something very appeasingly profound about discovering them in print.)

Solace is found as I pinpoint the meaning of VANGUARD- 1. The part of the army which goes ahaead of the main body. 2. Leading position or person in a movement.

I also note VAN GOGH available for my definitive pleasure and quickly skim over the word, being defined as simply, "painter", before I return to my search at the beginning of the dictionary yet again, where AVANT-GARDE was previously discovered.

I stare at my new pretty word while experiencing feeling of completion, a sense of deep connection. I rest with this word in my mental psyche, making it one with myself, letting it roll off my tongue a few times, saying it aloud:

AVANT-GARDE, AVANT-GARDE, AVANT-GARDE.

Somehow my schitzophrenically challenged wavelength of mentality tells me,

"This is an important word".

It is spiritually highlighted in my mind, kind of in the same way that "Frank the Bunny Rabbit" would highlight and relay important information to Donnie in the movie Donnie Darko. (A must-fucking-see film for any who eat, drink, and breathe sci-fi fantasy with profound meaning and intelligence.)

My mind races like this everyday.

EVERY FUCKING DAY.

On a good day, I'll take all this riff-raff and BLOG it, or recite it longhand style in one of my BAH-ZILLION journals I keep lying around my abode. On a bad day it'll just stay bottled up inside of me with nowhere for it to spill except into what later becomes my ostentaciously annoying manic/irritable modes. I'll flail about on a mad rampage of cleaning and self-mutilative/destructive frenzy.

This fever will typically burn within me for the next week or so; at least til I crash and burn from utter exhaustion and lack of sleep, so that I am no good to/for anyone or anything. The whole universe has to be put on hold until further notice until I can recuperate from my arduous journey.

There are times that my mind races so fast that it can feel like my orbital cortex is on fire, and I want nothing more than to douse my frontal lobes into a cooler of steaming dry ice.

I will keep feeling my forehead, making sure there are no beads of sweat trickling down.

But alas, my hand always returns to me dry.

So here I am.

I've become sexually involved with my new word, avant-garde, and invited AVAIL and ABILITY to come and indulge in a foursome with me and my new word of the day.

Anyone got some Valium?

P. to the S.:

Joel Osteen reminds me of Stephen Moyer, a.k.a. "Bill Compton" from HBO's new T.V. show "True Blood".



Not only does he resemble him in appearance, but in personality profile, body language, and verbal socialization style.

Bill Compton is WAY THE FUCK sexier than ol' "Joelie" though:



"We vampires don't like for our weaknesses to be made public knowledge".