2010-03-10T11:19:35Z Colin Moore Copyright 2010, Colin Moore SPHPBLOG Click this link to visit Futlus.com!

Another ColinMoore.com special delivery - free music! Everyone LOVES free music, right? It's good! Try it! Do it now!]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry090303-020314 2009-03-03T00:00:00Z 2009-03-03T00:00:00Z
Clicky clicky for slightly larger]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry090302-182301 2009-03-03T00:00:00Z 2009-03-03T00:00:00Z
Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all of my friends.

Love, Colin]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081228-125652 2008-12-28T00:00:00Z 2008-12-28T00:00:00Z
Thank you, Melina. Thank you very much.]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081102-124527 2008-11-02T00:00:00Z 2008-11-02T00:00:00Z http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081101-153415 2008-11-01T00:00:00Z 2008-11-01T00:00:00Z http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081030-094448 2008-10-30T00:00:00Z 2008-10-30T00:00:00Z Reddit.com called "The True Price of SMS Messages" which can be read over here on http://gthing.net/the-true-price-of-sms-messages.

After reading it, I'm almost disgusted. There is definitely something that needs to be done about this. Basically, US Cell companies - in this case, AT&T - are charging people exorbitant rates to both send AND receive text messages! The author introduces this by comparing the cost per bit of text messaging they charge to the cost per bit of a Cable Internet provider, as well as sending a piece of paper through the US Postal Service through the mail, with bits written out.

Not only are they charging you up to $.30 per message, they are charging the intended recipient $.30 per message as well! In actuality, text messaging doesn't cost these companies anything! It's actually an amazing scheme, but there should be something that we can do about it. If anything, getting the word out should be good enough for now.

Click above or on "related link" below for the link - it's a little long, but there are more important issues below the halfway mark of the page.]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081013-013633 2008-10-13T00:00:00Z 2008-10-13T00:00:00Z and an Irish Carbomb. Then a car drove through the bar and blew up. I believe the driver was of Irish descent, but it didn't matter - I never got my Guinness.

I don't remember my dreams much. I wish, though, that when I did remember my dreams, they were worth remembering.]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081007-115739 2008-10-07T00:00:00Z 2008-10-07T00:00:00Z
I did not.]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry081005-042528 2008-10-05T00:00:00Z 2008-10-05T00:00:00Z
So what's with all these beeps and boops? This digital age is allowing more and more people to become musicians - and instead of playing guitar for 6 hours a day for 20-odd years, these musicians are loading up Frooty Loops and Cakewalk and making music within an hour of figuring out the software. It amazes me what beauty these novices can evoke. No formal training, no music composition background, just a love of creating and a knack for computers.

Amazing.

Tonight I spoke with a long-lost friend who is down in the dumps. She had her eye on someone, she got her hopes up, and he wants nothing except sex - and barely attempts to conceal this fact. I felt that she needed help; advice; words of wisdom. It's always hard to tell people the truth, and instead I opted for what I felt she needed to hear:

"You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, well you just might find
You get what you need"

This is awful advice for someone trying to heal a battered heart, but I couldn't come up with anything else - let alone something original, heartfelt, or truly thought-provoking. But the statement is a fact - and one that too many young people these days just can't seem to grasp.

Whining and being depressed will get you nothing - it serves no constructive purposes, helps no one achieve anything of any greatness whatsoever, and is just plain annoying to the rest of us who have already come to terms with life.

Life is a lot like a sine wave - up, down, up, down, up, down, until the wave ends - until some science minded guy in a white lab coat flicks the switch or pulls the plug. Rollercoasters would be no fun if you only ever went up - there needs to be some downs, and it always should come full circle. Who wants to taste just sweetness? Doesn't eating nothing but candy rot your teeth?

We need sour. We need bitter. We need floor-opening-up-and-you-falling-through-and-falling-and-falling-and-falling-until-you-hit-rock-bottom.

Aren't we running?

We are all running. Constantly on the move, always trying to stay one step ahead of some unknown and unseen force that we always feel breathing down the backs of our shirts. Without movement, all matter ceases. We are all little tiny molecules rapidly undulating - the same little tiny molecules that are rapidly undulating in everything we own - our desks, our computers, our sunglasses, our Gucci shoes - all of us and all of ours is made of the same shimmying substance. If you feel hurt, does your desk feel hurt? Do your flipflops feel hurt?

That's a stupid question. Of course not.

When life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into life's eye and blind the fuck outta life. Be your own shooting star. Try to amaze yourself before you try to amaze others. Live for yourself on your own terms.

Try to look beyond "some dude" and look at who he is - not what he is. Try to observe the little tiny particles shimmying within him, and try to believe that the exact same little tiny particles are within you, as well.

Know thine self, know thine enemy.

And for God's sake, take a minute from your day to stop and smell the roses. It's good to be alive, to be in the now, to be here. To be here with you.

But you're not here... you're listening to your played-entirely-too-loud music, trying to shut out that brain of yours that's trying to tell you something you don't want to hear. But you know you hear it. I can tell these things. You aren't fooling me, and you aren't doing a very good job fooling yourself, either.

Aren't we all running?

The more and more I write, the more and more I miss it. I miss feeling my fingers against my keyboard, sometimes moving quickly, sometimes with my right hands' ring-finger hovering over the backspace key waiting for the inevitable error. Double space, single space, dotdotdot, wandering and feeling for the next letter, the next word, the next phrase, the next paragraph, the next thing that makes some sort of sense in a free-writing experiment that I just determined was a free-writing experiment only seconds ago.

I want to tell the world to watch out! I want to tell the world that we all feel the same way, and that all of our tiny little fluttering molecules are all the same. We are all brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, friends; we all exist on this tiny little insignificant rock together, and instead of getting along we choose to fight and to kill and to never be killed. But, instead, we just delay the inevitable. We put off today what we tell ourselves we will do tomorrow.

Is this living?

I have a lot on my mind, yet it is seemingly empty. I've come to a lot of major realizations, yet my body doesn't comply. It hurts. My back, my neck, my head, my heart - my body, my life - it hurts. Yet, everyday I seem to wake up, late as usual, and want to do something new - something no one has done before.

More and more, that's getting hard to do. It seems that the only thing I can't get enough of is heading back to the drawing board to come up with another "big idea" - pfft, like my last "big idea" was anything "big" at all.

My countdown is stopped at three. Some really tall and neatly-bearded announcer got up early, shaved and trimmed, put on his thousand dollar suit, went into makeup, got on camera, and started counting backwards from 10.

He got to 3 before he was told that the countdown had stopped, that there were technical difficulties. That the mission had been postponed, possibly due to solar flares or diagonal cross-winds or something else beyond our announcers realm of conception. His cheeks grew red and hot under the halogen lights, he started sweating just below his perfectly cropped hair - large drops the size of tears rolled down his forehead, down his cheek, dripping saliently upon the blank paper he keeps on the news desk to doodle on between cuts. Only there are no doodles. There are no concentric circles inked from boredom. There are no private inside jokes to share with his cute and blond co-anchor. There are only splatters of off-white moisture which drip drop drip from his furrowed brow. He motions to the cameraman to cut. He can't stand the silence he should be filling. The quiet is unbearable.

He stares intently at the teleprompter to begin again - to give him something to say, anything. But the teleprompter is frozen at three. Two may never come soon enough - and if it does, one may come far too late. Blastoff? Almost certainly never.

This entire post is a massive star at the end of its' burning cycle.

Music is Music as Devices are Kisses is Everything.

And the music, and the devices, and especially the kisses - they will save us all.]]> http://www.colinmoore.com/index.php?entry=entry080826-011029 2008-08-26T00:00:00Z 2008-08-26T00:00:00Z