Jon Pear (a.k.a. NeuroAster)

Posts Tagged ‘personal’

expertus dico

In sigma on June 21, 2010 at 8:40 am

I am this introvert, born to take in only so much of your output at a time

I was never born to thrive on all that you crave

Why is it crucial to share the fast pace now in vogue, just so our wavelengths are the same?

What if this attention-span is all I can give?

Why do six-billion human beings all have to be “hip” “trendy” and “cool”?

Why do six-billion have to learn and teach at the same speed?

I am sure someone somewhere also must think what I think, feel what I feel

I am sure someone somewhere must be tired of this rushed ride

I enjoy the sun out on my own, whether or not I miss today’s hype

Spending all day just to mouse-click and to type would be a shame

I was born to walk out in the fresh-air of the planet Earth and breathe deep

Born to take in only so much of your output at a time

Spambots or humans may leave whatever comments

In my world on June 10, 2010 at 11:30 am

Why do you ask where and how I’ve been when I’m always a mouseclick away?

Why do you seem to be allergic to Facebook and Twitter?

Where is the shared, open flexibility Cyberspace once promised me?

All our conflicting “options” divide us forever

If you’re sincere, send a crapless, gagless e-mail to just me, and not a contact-list

Learn something about the first sites I rush to, not just the ONE site that you cling to

Why is this so hard to understand? I’m rushing to touch base, and gee what thanks I get

Why simply assume I’ve just vanished into thin air, and then ask me “Where were you?”???

There is a lot more to Cyberspace than just Multiply Dot Com

When was the last time that Multiply Dot Com was mentioned on the news?

Blogging allows more than telephones could first do when they first came

Yet there is chit-chat entirely throughout countless ordinary blogs

I have Googled many of you, and discovered where else you’ve popped up

Just to be asked where I vanished to everywhere I fail to make frequent time for

I should rediscover my introvert-self, and feel free to just type

Letting the Muse have her way, and accepting that I can’t appease every reader

I’m as confused at least as much as I am confusing, when and if I confuse at all

Why are you so sure the site you’ve chosen is where I’ll appear every day?

Why would your single one irrelevant, obscure chosen site have such broad appeal?

Why do you ask where and how I’ve been when I’m always a mouseclick away?

sidewalk chalk

In my world on March 19, 2010 at 8:54 pm

All of the things my sister and I wrote and drew in sidewalk chalk in our youth have long since faded away . . .

The time we pretended she was a teacher and I was a student, and I wrote:

“i will do what teacher says

i will do what teacher says

i will do what teacher says . . .”

The time we drew Pac-Man and Mario throwing barrels at Donkey Kong and The Ghost-Monsters.

The time we drew Mario walking up to a mushroom cloud and thinking “Golly, how do I get out of this one?”

The time we drew the sun smiling down on a cornfield and saying “Grow, grow . . .”

The time we wrote:



The hopscotch-court we drew . . .

The time we drew the Middle-Aged Pervert Krishna Gerbils.

The time we drew the Care Bears versus Ewoks football game.

The time we wrote “COKE RULES AND PEPSI SUCKS” up and down the neighborhood.

The sloppy pictures we drew of our super-hero “OttoMan” saving the world from “The Evil Dr. Byzantine.”

All of the things my sister and I wrote and drew in sidewalk chalk in our youth have long since faded away . . .

The Tree and I

In my world on March 8, 2010 at 9:03 pm

One cold February day, when I was still a preteen (this was still a while before my mother died of cancer in 1993), I made up my mind that the Christmas decorations had stayed up in front of my mother’s house long enough. We were always the last people in the whole neighborhood to take down the Christmas lights in front of our house. I made up my mind that this was a priority, that someone had to take the initiative here, and that it might as well be me.

With stubbornness, incredulity, and focused determination, I suited up in my winter coat, mittens, and boots, and marched straight to the front door, where the goofy multi-colored flashing miniature light-bulbs lay draped across a wiry, scrawny, leafless deciduous tree just beside the front steps of our house. Why weren’t these dxmn things taken down by now? How hard could it really be anyway?

With firm resolve, I stomped down our front steps, strutted right up to the decorated tree, and stood in front of it, assessing the seemingly straightforward task before me. Christmas decorations up in February, how silly! This, I decided, was not going to wait a moment longer. It was time. Period.

I reached out in front of me to where part of the bulb-laden cable hung down from one of thin, limp, brittle deciduous branches. I grabbed the electric cable and began to pull. Suddenly, the tree-branch itself snapped off, whopped me on the forehead (leaving a slight scar that I would see in the mirror later), then fell on the toe-end of my left boot. I blinked, grunted, then noticed that the cable itself was no further off of the tree than when I had begun.

Undaunted, I fiddled a bit with the cable, searching for its proverbial Achilles’ heel, a place where it was more loose and more vulnerable to being removed. After a minute or two, I came across the end of the cable that extended a short distance away from the tree. I followed this extension with my eyes, and found that it terminated at the outdoor electrical outlet attached to the front of the garage, where the cable was plugged in. My lower jaw dropped to what must have been my ankles! How stupid not to have thought of unplugging these stupid flashing Christmas lights before getting them off the tree!

I took a deep breath, sighed, and plodded toward the electrical outlet to unplug the dxmn cable. Suddenly, I slid on the ice and fell with one hard WHOMP down on my ass! “OOH!” I grunted! Now, I was really pissed off!

With a sneer, I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and took slow, cautious steps toward the electrical outlet. I finally unplugged the dxmn cable, and carried the plug end back to the tree.

I wound part of the plug end of the cable around my forearm. I could almost taste victory. I reached my hand closer into the tree to get at the bulb-laden portion of the cable and pull it out. But much of the cable was intricately intertwined with the dry, cold, and prickly deciduous branches. The cable could not just be pulled; it had to be untangled.

I pried apart two deciduous branches that had a portion of the cable between them, and suddenly they snapped apart like a wishbone! The next thing I knew, my right wrist was scraped and bleeding! How did THAT happen???

An hour later, the dxmn Christmas decorations were finally down and put away in some box somewhere, and I was wearing bandages in several places. Just as I was resolving never to attempt taking down Christmas decorations ever again, my mother called me to the kitchen, where a found that she had baked a tray of delicious chocolate muffins, as a kind of reward for my labor and my helpfulness.

circumvalent cosmoswirl

In my world on May 4, 2009 at 8:19 am

Read the world

Write your life

Be a child

Guard your turf

Be an embodiment of hope

Radiant beacon in the dark

Dreams are the lessons in your sleep

Leaving you inwardly awake

Decades end

Life is brief

Read the world

Write your life

This may offend some shopaholics

In my world on February 3, 2009 at 12:39 pm

Push a shopping-cart through the aisles of the Retail-Maze

Boxes, jars, and cans, grams and litres of wants and needs

Endless, grueling, soul-numbing task that my spouse enjoys

How I hate the grand scenic tour of competing brands

What a relief to finally haul the groceries home

Mention another “coupon” or “sale” to me, and I’ll scream

Has to be the most deathly-spiritless chore of chores

Push a shopping-cart through the aisles of the Retail-Maze


In Uncategorized on December 9, 2008 at 8:51 pm

Full moon, gazing down on Winnipeg tonight

Pure sphere, high, aloof, objective, and remote

Proud brat loves her privileged spotlight from the sun

Still mute, never known to lecture, or complain

Better off out in orbit than mired in the Earth’s urban sprawl

Better off out in order than mired in the stressed human hell

Stay put, far from growth, technology, and shxt

Full moon, gazing down on Winnipeg tonight

transprehensive arithmordinate

In Uncategorized on December 3, 2008 at 4:54 pm

One-hundred-percent of the universes all around the world

All peoples’ reality-versions, and the ways our spheres collide

Mass noise, and scrambled counterpoint of question-marks and stares

More failed communication on a web the planet shares

Cyberspace is where mouse-clicks are mass-transit quantum-leaps across time-zones

Messages at enhanced speeds, before wetware figures out what each text means

All open public dialogue is naked, word for word

One-hundred-percent of the universes all around the world


In schmategory on November 17, 2008 at 8:36 am

Lift the world’s weight, drag it away, and thrust it over the edge

You do not need pressure from snobs who make assumptions and judge

Monday’s warm, soft quicksand of bed has tried to swallow you whole

Loud alarm clock blared, and you struggled up and answered its call

Take a few bites; brush your teeth and shower; get dressed

Rush and get stuck deep in morning traffic’s long wait

This routine keeps minds distracted, keeps our souls dead

Deaf-and-blind, pale zombies march to serve a numb god

Dare to leave the dirge of the forsaken

Sneak away; remember to be human

Dare to question everybody’s answer

Dare to probe the failure to discover

Dare to learn the secrets forgotten by strangers, friends and enemies

Dare to teach the secrets that everyone else has found mysterious

Dare to journey forth on a path that is barely even legible

Dare to journey forth on your own, and be barely even tangible

Someone is on the planet Earth loving you now, obscured by the a distance none can cross

Suicide is the only real failure, and inner-peace is the only real success

Tenderness and perspective keep life in the light, the ideobalm that cleanses fear

Touch me with a reminder, reach deep as you dare, and handle the cryptic self in here

Dare to reach deep into the murky septic-tank of the heart

Dare to find thick burdens of solid lead that  sicken and hurt

Take the red pill; dare to begin the ontological search

Lift the world’s weight, drag it away, and thrust it over the edge

subprime foreclosure

In alpha on October 7, 2008 at 9:20 pm

Call the state of the heart a quote “negative attitude” unquote

Thanks for saying that smiles are good; thanks for explaining the concept

Be the salt in the spirit’s wounds, cluelessly sheltered, and perfect

Call the state of the heart a quote “ negative attitude” unquote

Pencils and paper are friends without shoulders to cry on

Open, accepting, without advice, mindsets, or caution

Maybe the courage to write can survive the failures to answer every reader’s questions

Maybe the courage to write can survive, in spite of the inner-critic’s growth on steroids

Keep your distance, and have your own fun

Don’t expect me to watch or join in

Turn your back if I make your skin crawl

Kick a football, or shop at some mall

Make sense to hundreds of people; only confuse a few

Whole demographics will never learn what is real or true

Every bite, breath, and step you take for granted must be nice

You’re a team-player, saved by charm and cronies, not by grace

Drive your vehicle through Monday’s hectic traffic

Be an icon of pure photogenic magic

Call the state of the heart quote “depressing” unquote

Call the state of the heart a quote “negative attitude” unquote

soul’s autumn

In schmategory on September 28, 2008 at 7:52 pm

Cloudy and overcast, with browning and oranging leaves

Wearing a jacket, in the chill of the Winnipeg breeze

Walking and breathing, on a day when the summer has died

Knowing that snowflakes from the sky shall arrive and descend

Stars, raindrops, leaves, and snowflakes fall

Time’s Chronojectile passes all

Autumn is coolness of perspective, serenity, peace

Cloudy and overcast, with browning and oranging leaves

Groggy and half-awake on a Monday morning

In schmategory on July 28, 2008 at 2:42 pm

Once upon a duration of chronological time

Monday mornings were tangible, ripe salvation from shame

Interpersonal dialogue bubbled under the sun

Now we live in an age when the Eaton’s Building is gone

Queen Street died in the birth of Portage Avenue

Fast change happens, and life becomes a vertigo

Real truth never conforms to any weltanschauung

No one paradigm ever covers everything

Bite the fruit of a tree; enjoy a full meal

Break the ovary wall, and let the seeds fall

Stand where others have stood before your own birth

Stand where others may stand beyond your own death

Leaves and snowflakes fall, as the dollar-bills and coins enter and leave our wallets

These are days when elders are left in homes, and some citizens vote on ballots

Early, late, and punctual people rise and rush into the morning traffic

Early, late, and punctual people rise and rush into the morning panic

Ghost of Timothy Eaton, avenge the landmark we tore

Haunt the “Centre” we built, and create a horrible scare

We were innocent once, and we had the freedom to dream

Once upon a duration of chronological time

CAUTION: This update may NOT put readers in a good mood

In Uncategorized on July 14, 2008 at 5:26 pm

After I took out the garbage, washed the dishes, and puked

Resting in bed was a healing-time, to pause and reflect

What are the blossoming-spirit’s needs we tend to ignore?

What are the pleasures that nurture more than surface-desire?

Mildew, bacteria, and humans live on the planet Earth

Speech is an auditory-vomit out of the human-mouth

So I reclined, and I pondered; then, I finally slept

After I took out the garbage, washed the dishes, and puked


In alpha on June 17, 2008 at 12:02 pm

Tumbleweeds and roses love and accept random, wild, real life

Intimate surrender, yes to the wind, peace without hurt grief

Solitude can kiss the truth of your pure self with soft, still calm

Tension can be soothed away in your deep core with life’s first balm

Take time; give it time; these are the days of meritocracy

Rushed stress makes it much harder to find the soul’s tranquility

Brute arms lock you snug; fingers and palms caress with tenderness

Feel safe; close your eyes; blissfully sigh; enjoy the universe

Someone does care if you freeze, melt, or boil

Someone does care if you sink, rise, or fall

Someone does care if you sleep, live, or die

Someone does care how you are every day

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

Make peace with interpersonal conflict

Make peace with Proud Humanity’s nature

Make peace with each adventurous danger

Reach stars without bowing down to the enemies of friends

Touch hearts without bowing down to authorities and crowns

These days, when strict meritocracy’s deadlines are precise

These days can kill souls with schedules and failures to rejoice

Notice how bubbles and feathers can spread out across fun air

That is how we, as humans, can soar, freed from each clock’s glare

Lilies of the field can silently clear any mind’s thick strife

Tumbleweeds and roses love and accept random, wild, real life

12tone blues

In alpha on May 24, 2008 at 3:18 pm

Depth of cut, down the pit of the self-concept’s core

Hate the game; love the player whose whole world is sore

Bishops, rooks, knights, and pawns are the blind, leading sheep

Go the wind’s way; adhere to the form; take the shape

Archives we keep for posterity

Sink to archaic antiquity

Legacies fade with identities

History swallows our skeletons

Bones of old collateral damage hide in lost muck of the earth, forgotten

Any numbered body could well have died with some honor, or died a virgin

Leaves and snowflakes fall, as the dollar-bills and coins enter and leave our wallets

Leave a gentle nuisance alone; enjoy your own blessings, and curse your servants

Wallow in reputations, dealings, and roles; win points with minds who pull strings

Wrestle with brutes in shallow ideomud; steal spotlights; flex your huge grins

Sure you can render unto Caesar a T4 slip from Mammon each year

What will your adaptations prove when the real, true future leaves your past bare?

All of your gilded silver shall endure more time than your grave

Cold as the guns and bullets the police need just to be safe

Dignity, pride, and status are the 666 of the beast

Toughen your public armor when your most deep self is a ghost

Inner-strength is the weakness of all who declare war on inner-peace

Shoot reporters who ruin the news with the truth; shoot them face to face

You are meat; let the Butcher of Age slice you more

Depth of cut, down the pit of the self-concept’s core

depolarizing mix

In alpha on May 19, 2008 at 5:10 pm

Feet march relentlessly each long day

No ear can listen to pain’s rude cry

Make waves and footprints across Earth’s face

Gain more to measure and count less loss

You judges, juries, and executioners

You vermin, lower than sperm in genitals

You fear and scare the innocent

Force offers no encouragement

Kings and their pawns fail to fathom the mind of Lizamanynames

Sociotypes grow by quoting their memotypes with smiles and charms

How is a vast void of geolocations now a great divide?

Access denied, now a clickable window fails to intercede

Maybe there was hope to save some redemption

Now you are cold, frozen, strict intervention

Open your yes-hole and let passion enter

Open yourself; live the real, true adventure

Each solution is just someone else’s problem in disguise

Have convenience; let nameless humans wander in a maze

Take the breath of your life; just observe whatever has transpired

Let the fireworks explode over jurisdictions of the dead

Gee, thanks a lot for a few stale crumbs

Gee, thanks for moments when each door slams

Fxxk shxt, get out of my life-long way

Feet march relentlessly each long day

boo hoo waah

In Uncategorized on May 12, 2008 at 7:01 pm

You who hate to read anything sad for even a moment

Fail to learn about anything real, important, or urgent

Tell the world to shut up so it doesn’t give you a headache

Live without a mind newer than any fossilized relic

How do commodities make you more of an adult and less of a child?

Legally purchase your perks and leisurely enjoy society’s ride

Ride around the sun free on the one inhabited planet

You who hate to read anything sad for even a moment


In Uncategorized on April 28, 2008 at 6:45 pm

You results-driven, goal-oriented scum

Your demands punish pure sanity and calm

You create panic, stress, poverty, and shame

You create wild, concealed anger in the home

Breadwinners bring home raw-nerves that burst behind privacy’s walls

Children become rage-crazed adults filling up all of our jails

I could peel off your skin slowly while you scream

You results-driven, goal-oriented scum

Mneh, well, I’ve had worse Mondays . . .

In Uncategorized on April 14, 2008 at 8:03 pm

Smug scribes, may the wave survive your damage

Smug scribes, you who shield your cherished image

Fxxk shxt, bond in beds with turds of feces

Get lost, wander in and out of phases

Let my flesh be bitten, torn, and chewed up in humanity’s teeth

Let me be forgotten, leave my bones lost in the muck of the earth

Smug scribes, keep your precious privileged leverage

Smug scribes, may the wave survive your damage

Nobody panic, I’m okay

In schmategory on April 9, 2008 at 2:30 pm

Loved by some, hated by others

Living life, knowing what matters

Walking through parks in the sunshine

Keeping this body in motion

I forgot to comb my hair today, and a few scared people stared

Wrote this text in pencil, tried to make it a neat, non-boring read

We are all people with futures

Loved by some, hated by others