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Now imagine the name of the show is "Last Night".
-Are you going to the show "Last Night" ?
-What do you mean, you're saying the show was last night, how am I supposed to go to the show tonight ?

Or:

-I've got extra tickets for the "Last Night" party, you want one ?
-Haa ?!!

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Now Imagine the name of the party is "Tomorrow Night".
-You've got tickets for "Tomorrow Night" ?
-Yeah, but I thought it's tonight ? Who's going ?
-Sure it is. We're all going to "Tomorrow Night" tonight.

Anyhow.

Leave the reds intact, leave the feelings hurt, leave the lovers suffocate.

Let the white be white, leave the blacks in black,

Dream in vain and then, when the masterplan fails....Drink in pain and pray.

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For more information, please call 1-800-WTFMaan

So, after I was advised that it would take me about 15 minutes walk to this Bus/Subway station that would take me to York University, I decided to walk with my backpack and a carrying bag, specially since I had no idea how late one particualar bus that usually went to that station, was running till.

So, my supposed-to-be-15-minute walk took about 25 minutes. Then I found out that that bus that usually ran till then, wouldn't work on holidays till that late at night. After a while of thinking and hard direction-figuring-out self-debate, I took the subway to another station in which in the previous night, I had been able to catch a bus to my destination at around 2:15 and it was only about 12:30 at the time.

So, I did manage to take that bus, but the bus, after going for about 40 minutes, stopped in the middle of nowhere and I was the only passenger left on it. The bus driver came and literally shut down the bus. When I asked about it and wondered how I should go to where I wanted, he simply said he was off duty and that the bus wouldn't go to where I wanted. So I got off and waited for some other buses to come around. A few minutes after, one actually did come and I asked the driver. He thought for a bit and figured there's no way for me other than taking his bus, going to some other station, taking another one that would go close to the university and walk for a 'bit'. So I did that.

I got on that bus, got off a few stations after, got on another one, got off a while after and I was told that about 15 minutes of walking would get me to where I wanted. So I started walking.....

And I walked. and I walked. and I walked. I sang songs to myself. I thought about my poor little suitcase I was carrying on its wheels on the ground. I hoped its wheels wouldn't bail out on me. I thought about where I was. I thought about North, South, East, West. I thought about God. I thought about a girl I knew. I thought about how I thought about myself and how people thought about me. I thought about thieves. I thought about Hell and Heaven. I thought about how screwed up things can be. I thought about what I thought about the world and how it acutally might be.

So I walked for about 70 minutes...with my suitcase and carrying bag. And all my thinkings about direction and where I was, eventually got me to where I had to go. Well, not quite, but rather. I ended up walking for another half an hour after that to get to where I wanted. I survived and my sense of direction actually worked. With no Sun in the sky. With no one to help. And with no motivation to find the way.

My sense of direction is 5 years old now. It grew up all that in one night. Despite the commonly believed knowledge that brain doesn't develope new cells, I'm pretty sure a handful of new brain nerves were developed in the direction department of my brain. I have to celebrate this soon. Hopefully, all you who participated in this growing-up, can attend.

Nevertheless, after this great happening, I ended up going to Hamilton, where my friend picked me up and gave me a tour of the city in his car. Well, that was the start of an end. My newly developed brain cells in the direction-handling department, are going to starve to death for not being used, and all the food will go to the other sections that can be of an actual use for my well-being. It was a short life for these cells, nevertheless, a fruitfull life, full of joy and success. Let them rest in peace.

I had a drawing teacher who I very much liked (in an innocent, good and orthodox way), and he once said "A masterpiece is a great idea, beautifully done". Most of the time, I used to think, having great ideas was the ultimate goal, but then, if those ideas are not put into practice well enough, then what's their point ?

Now, if you just have the technique to do something, let it be carpenting, playing music or painting, it's not art yet, until you incorporate some cool ideas into it. I don't personally consider a good guitar player an artist if he can just play it real fast, without making good tunes out of it. On the other hand, if someone can spit beautifully in some interesting way, that can be considered as art. Technique comes to help an idea be beautifully done, but just by itself, it doesn't have any aritistic value. Of course the border line is quite unclear and vague and sometimes it's hard to judge if something's art or just good technique.

Now, what Brazil football team does, is not a sport, but rather a form of art, no matter what the score, you enjoy watching its beauty, but Germany only has the technique. Or what Keyvan Saket plays, is not artistic Tar, but rather great technique with no spirit. On the other hand, Joe Satriani is an artist.

Well, from what I heard today, seems like it was designed by the British in the Times newspaper, as an engraved Roman-style alphabet to induce the belief that everything written in that newspaper is a true solid fact.

No wonder how the British are still ruling near a dozen other countries and looting them in a generally accepted official way. It's because they think about every single thing, unlike most of the other governments who go and see what happens next.

From what I can think of, Love is something that exists on its own. The ultimate love is when you love something/someone so much that you're ready to give up everything else that you like, for it.

However, I can't think of a way to define Hatred like that. I need the definition of Love in order to be able to define Hatred and I define ultimate Hatred as when you don't like something so much that you're ready to give up everything you love, to destroy or ged rid of that thing.

See ? I have to use Love to define Hatred, whereas I don't need Hate to define Love.

I might be mistaken, so if anyone can think of another way of defining these, lemme know.

A test shall be designed to identify which course is suitable as a start. "Average" students will take Shut Up 100 in their first year and follow it up in the next semesters. For students who score below "average", a prerequisite course Shut Up 98 will be designed to teach them a better understanding of the whole "shutting up" concept.

If you have any suggestions regarding this course, please don't hesitate to give us your feedback.

She was getting lost in her thoughts when suddenly she heard police sirens. She always hated the police, not because she broke the law too many times, but because of their inflexibility. They were only taught to enforce the law, exactly like how it was written, without knowing the philosophy behind them and being able to bend them to fit the situation, like a robot. Well, at least most of the police officers, and all of the ones she had "met" were like that. Once, she even dated a policeman, but she had to break up, because one day she parked her car in front of a parkometer, paid the fee, but she was 5 minutes late. So her "boyfriend" at the time, gave her a ticket.

Getting back to the current situation, she looked in the mirror. There was no police car. She was slowly getting used to this situation, it was the 4th time this had happened on that day. She had got a few tickets for speeding before, and at the end, since she didn't have the money to pay them, the judge had decided to go with the "chip". They installed it yesterday. She reached to her head, almost subconciously and touched her skull where a little area, the size of a nickel, was shaved. That's where the chip was installed. The chip, as they had told her, could communicate with the sattelite and identify where she was, and knowing the speed limit for that zone, it would start a police siren in her head, if she was going too fast. And "too fast" meant 5 kilometers above the limit, this time it was a real "robot" enforcing the law. The problem was that the chip was not that "smart" yet. If she was going in some other person's car and they were going too fast, the chip would still start making the siren sound in her head. If she wanted to go by the airplane or train or anything else, she had to go to the police office, with valid proof of travelling and exact times of departure and arrival, and they would program the chip to be silent at that period.

She couldn't possibly miss the new years, but she couldn't stand the siren sound in her head anymore either. The more it went on, the louder and the more annoying and unbearable it would get. She didn't have a choice, so she pushed on the breaks. As soon as the speed dropped below 60, the siren went off. She looked in front of her and in the mirror. There were no cars on the highway.

Elnazina Elnazova, as is known everywhere by this name now, was born in the Queen Elizabeth II dining room at 11:46am in a happy summer day. Her real name was Elizabeth III, but as a disguise, "they" changed her name first to Elcutie, then to Christina and finally to Elnaz. Since this name didn't really go well with the other names in the society, she was sent to Iran to fit with the others [3]. Nevertheless, she was constantly being supervised and trained under the best supervisions and trainings known to mankind [2].

To train her fully in an official way and at the same time keeping the disguise, she was sent to a special school, specially made for special people. It was there that she learned how to design smilies. As we will see, this was crucial for her future. She also learned how to hold a guitar which later on she used this art to seduce her prays.

After finishing regular studies under hefty disguise, she went back to the motherland to be trained more closely and in more depth. She started working as a Yahoo smiley designer [4] in a computer software company, but that was only a disguise. What she really did was using her trainings to design physical/mental-enhancement [5] drugs for the CIA [6]. But she wasn't very faithful to the secret agency either; she used to "innocently" fill her purse with the powder and would mix Roger Federer's protein shake with the powder and thus make him unbeatable. She would then bet on him in the matches and make a lot of money.

This money was used to achieve a higher goal she was trained for. She secretly made contracts with the dictionary publishers as an editor [7] and would deliberatly misspell words or change meanings of the words in the dictionaries. If you haven't yet figured out why, you must be really dumb. Obviously this was a smartly-planned plan to promote illiteracy through out the world and make it easier for the aliens to attack our planet.

It's quite instructional to see under a sweet and lovely cover, how misleading some people can be ! An illiteracy promoter who was going to run for Miss England 2012 ! Dude ! [10] Anyhow, in the meanwhile, she continued her trainings and learned everything and anything that was to be learnt. But since she was herself using the drugs she had designed (and for that matter, she changed them just for herself and didn't even let CIA know about it), her mental capabilities were millionified [8]. So she started comming up with new stuff on her own.

It needs a few libraries to talk about the details of her new stuff [9], and many of them are just not known to us or beyond our understanding. But to make the story short, it's enough to say that she found a way to become God. Yes. And she was never heard of after that. Maybe she'll return back to run for Miss England 2012, who knows. [11]

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[1]: I don't yet know if it's a "she" or "he". I'm not really interested in finding that out either.

[2]: And to some extent to alien-kind and animal-kind and tree-kind and bacteria-kind and cockroach-kind and one-eyed-three-legged-two-skulled-four-handed-african-but-imported-to-brazil-yellow-ardvark-kind.

[3]: If you think that a little bit smarter thing would probably have been to change her name to something that went with the society, you're dead wrong. For "some" reason "they" liked the El-something name and at the same time any resemblence with the name Elizabeth had proved to be deadly and undisguisable in the past. See ? You WERE dead wrong. The English or British or Snubbies can think of everything you can think of and <-----------------------> this much more.

[4] I told you we will get to this point.

[5] More "physical" as the sources say.

[6] Working for CIA was another misleading undercover cover, since her original employers were the BBC people who were in fact aliens comming from Neptune.

[7] Obviously she had a good resume showing her as a well-known literaturian.

[8] Some experts claim "hexa-billion-gillionified". That's beyond my counting abilities. I don't even know how they measured that. I'm starting to think these experts were actually aliens or just frauds.

[9] That's when I can't think of a word to fully describe this thing. It's not "invention" or "discovery" or "idea", it's a combination of all of these and even more. This is all her fault, cause I can't look it up in the dictionaries either. Even if I do find something, I can't trust it to be correct !

[10] That's referring to the shark kid. I'm not calling you readers "Dude"....unless you're the shark kid, in which case....hmm. I won't tell you now, it's for later.

[11] Whether this is a happy or sad ending is left as an excercise to the interested reader. Hint: This might actually not BE an "ending" and may "BE continued".

A few people came to the library, right beside the computers, beside the wall, in the middle of the library, two of them sat down and started talking and writing things on some piece of paper. So far it was strange, cause they could've done this at a table and instead they chose the floor and in the middle of the library too.

Then they started talking loud, and everyone could hear them, which is again strange, cause library is supposed to be a not-loud (different from quiet though) place.

Then they went to a row of computers and desks, with people working and studying, and started saying a bunch of things that I didn't understand, loudly. And then they cheered up for themselves and left.

The people I was sitting and talking with, were a bunch of morons, so that didn't even grab their attention. So I had to come up with a theory of what the heck these people were doing, all by myself.

I figured, they were probably working on an assignment, seeing how people react to abnormal things happening around them.

So I went out to ask those people what they were really up to. It turned out that this whole thing was more messed up than I thought.

From what I understood, they were just trying to see if they can grab people's attention. It wasn't for an assignment. I asked them if they had a measurement of how successful they'd been, like number of people who moved their heads to look at them, etc. They said no. So the whole thing was a strange test with no means of measuring the outcome. Think about doing something purposeless.

Moral of the story: If you think the number of retarded people is decreasing, you're dead wrong, straight up.

1. Listen to House music and call everyone else FOB. It doesn't matter if you know the meaning of FOB or not, it's just a matter of saying it. FOB is a word registered for use only by the higher class people.

2. Smoke (this covers anything smokable, including your grandparent's underwear. if one day you succeed in 'smoking' LSD, you rock straight up, since you'd be one of the few who've accomplished this. now you can call others who do LSD in the right way, FOBs).

3. Wear only brand name clothes, specially Diesel, regardless of how ugly the clothes might be. It's all about brands and how much you've paid for it. If you can't afford it, work 412 hours a day and spend all your money on a 999.99$ jacket. Then call others FOBs.

4. If you're a girl, be a bitch, literally. If you're a guy, give attitude, but remember to stay up-to-date with the fashion and use proper hair cut. If you find anyone not following your way, call them FOB.

5. Become a singer. No experience is needed. If it doesn't work out, call everyone else FOB and start working in a coffee shop.

6. If you don't have an orkut account get one. Then start writing scraps and i-love-you testimonials for everyone else including yourself. Call yourself FOB.

7. Avoid intellectuality. Call everyone who goes to university FOB. Don't read any book. Call anyone who reads, FOB.

Note that these conditions are not either necessary nor sufficient, and there are exceptions for every case. If you'd like to know whether or not you've become COOL or FOB, a case-by-case study is needed. Please contact our office for an appointment at 1-800-FOB-COOL.

Joe is sitting down on a bench thinking. It's in a quiet park close to the fire rows in isle 5467342 of Hell.

"The isle number looks very familiar", Joe wonders.

After a bit of thinking, a nifty smile covers his face. That was his social number in the other world.

"Other world"....He hesitates. "Why is it always "the other world" ?"
"Why isn't ever "the other world", the world that we live in ?", he asks himself. After a moment of thinking, he finds out the answer. It's because of what "other" means. "Other" means something not what we are dealing with right now. Something besides "this".

"Hmm. So the opposite of "other" is "this"", he nodds to himself and happily fills up another row of the word puzzle.

The last time he saw someone pass close by this bench, was 3 days ago. He is getting a week of vacation from his fire chamber, because he has "followed the instructions". He is a good citizen. Not as good as Alina though.

As usual I took my camera inside along with some other stuff ;) and as usual, the security bugged me for taking pictures, which I don't understand why, since I never use flash to distract the band and so many people take pictures anyways. The security has to always be a pain in the ass I guess, that's part of their routine.

Ian Astbury who looks like and sings like and dances like Jim Morrison, made everyone believe that Jim Morrison's soul had got permission from God to come back for a while and bring back memories. The rest of the band had become old, while Jim Morrison was still young.

The concert proved to be quite educational besides being entertaining. It gave rise to so many philosophical questions to which the answer is still not quite known.

Does the former cult singer (which I haven't still memorized his name and refer to him as "the singer guy"), feel good or bad about himself representing Jim Morrison ? On one hand, he's representing a big idol and makes many people happy, on the other hand he's just a fake one, can't have his own personality and full creativity on the stage and has to be someone else. My friend, who is a big-time Jim Morrison fan and got into drugs, etc. just because of Jim Morrison and thought he was Jim Morrison for a while (he's ok now ! at least much better) described the concert as "the best fake show ever".

This reminded me of Kirk Hammet, the Metallica's guitar player. As I watched the movie Metallica: Some Kind of a Monster a while ago, I figured that in this band, only James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich would actually make the songs and would come and give the note sheets to the others and the others had to go along with them. In the movie Kirk Hammet was saying he was completely comfortable with his role in the band, i.e being a doll and not being creative and becomming famous and rich by just being a toy in the hands of others. This brings up another issue about the unfairness of the world; even if you are creative but at the wrong place and time, you can be much worse than some pathetic person who turns out to be at the right place and right time. And if you think too much about this, it will lead to questions about God and your own existence. I don't recommend going there.

Seemed like Jason, the bass player who separated from the band a few years ago, did it for the exact same reason; i.e that he couldn't be creative and so he tried to be creative in a small group outside Metallica, but James Hetfield, made it hard for him, cause he wanted Jason to be fully committed to Metallica, although he wouldn't let him to be creative. That's abuse of power, as the rest of the movie suggested the same thing. Although it's not right to work in another band while having the first band (Jason's case), I think James Hetfield was not justified to pressure Jason for doing that, since the cause of problem was James Hetfield himself. Had it not been because of him, he was totally right to kick Jason out for not being completely committed to Matallica.

And after Jason was gone, the band was so arrogant and cruel, that they didn't even mention his name afterwards, ignoring the fact that they had reached that level of fame together with Jason, working for 15 years together. Metallica and Napster story shows more of their attitude towards the audience as well.

This reminded me of Pink Floyd. Roger Waters separated from the band too (and they rejoined temporarily a while ago in London for the Live 8 concert to help pressure the so-called G8 leaders to pay more attention to poverty specially in Africa). But he separated because of the opposite reason, he seemed to be more creative and apparently the rest of the band didn't really like the lyrics to be always about sad things. In any case, for Pink Floyd, it was never the case that they wouldn't mention Roger Water's name, although he still has some issues with the band, they even rejoined for a good cause.

Although Metallica and Pink Floyd stories might not quite be that much similar, I put them on opposite sides, attitude-wise; while I find Metallica to be selfish, arrogant and abusive, I find Pink Floyd to have much higher moral values. This brings another question that when looking at art, do you have to consider the artists' attitudes to praise their work or not. Next time, should I go to Metallica's concert again, despite the fact that I don't like their attitude, just because the concert would be a great experience or not ?

Two bands opened for The Doors, the second one was Vanilla Fudge, a fourty-something-year-old band that many haven't even heard of their name after so many years and they're still together, all the original band members. They've had single hits like "Keep Me Hangin' On", etc., but nothing more. When I saw them, I thought whether they're being pathetic that after so many years, they haven't got to anywhere or it's that they don't really care and they just love the music ? And when you compare them with huge bands like Pink Floyd and Metallica that have reached the highest points of success, but have had problems inside the band, you wonder how powerful fame or money are that result in these conflicts. In a song called The Gypsy Meets The Boy by W.A.S.P, a boy is telling a gypsy that he wants to be the crimson idol of a million people and be famous and the gypsy tells him "do you see what I see?, be careful to choose, be careful what you wish for, cause it may come true"....

And having said all that, there are always stories going in the background that we don't know of, and therefore our judgement might be quite far away from the truth. And more over, who knows if there really is a truth....

Here are some of the photos of the concert:

Let's see....The description of what you said or may have said can be viewed in terms of numerous external (as well as internal) factors. One such factor, or rather event, is the absence of clarity and vividness, which is furthermore quite meticulously presented in the very fibre of our everyday behaviour. Now, while this phenomenon, this rather "presence of absence", does NOT lead to any misconceptions per se, it opens the doors for careful deliberation and contemplation.

Does "meaning" really exist or is it in fact an artifact of the inherent deficiency of our humanly intellect? Or better yet, have we become complex enough to surpass our own understanding? Is "the killed" the same as "the killer"?

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Moral of the story: Sometimes it's extremely difficult to distinguish between a piece of horseshit and a deep philosophical piece.