About Me
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I'm an Eastern Canada born, and Western Canada raised, movie watching, writing, long walk taking, coffee drinking, theoretical physics loving, religious atheist, now living in the eastern part of the furthest western city on land in Canada, good ole' Vancouver.
I really love to laugh, and I have negative blood, A-, actually, which makes me always love the evil jokes that come about. A friend of mine made a joke this year on my birthday, September 11th, a martini was ordered at a restaurant, but they were all out of the booze required for it, and my O- friend splurted out, "This is the worst September 11th ever!" It's so cruel, but it still made me laugh.
I'm defiantly not the most "usual" guy in many aspects. Heres some odd things about me; I almost only listen to electronic music, I always wear 2 different colored socks, black and white, I had a piece of my brain cut out to stop my epilepsy, I do work on independent film, my longest walk was 25km, I own 5 different coffee makers and 2 grinders, my TV is an 83" screen and projector, my favorite pet was a pig named Lucy, and although I once felt like god spoke to me, I'm an atheist.
If you feel like, you can always get to know me better. I love to meet anyone and everyone, I'm just not so good at picking up a phone and dialing, so just write me up, any time.
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Interests
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Making or watching Movies, reading or writing stories, and electronica.
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Favorite TV Shows
LOST, Daily show & Colbert Report, South Park, Robot Chicken, The Office, and Wild Documentaries, like BBC Horizon.
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Favorite Books
The book I'm reading right now is "Three Roads to Quantum Gravity" by Lee Smolin, and soon I'll be getting "The God Part of the Brain" by Matt Alper, which I've waited since 2006 to get my hands on. Before those was "The Origin of the Species" by Charley Darwin, and "Yes Man" by Danny Wallace, plus I'm always in the middle of some good ones by Richard Dawkins.
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Journal
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(Author’s Note: This Ballad is a simple parody of "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe.)
Once upon a daytime stormy,
As my TV sat before me,
While I watched a fairly nauseous
Program about a dainty whore.
As I sat there, quite disgusted,
Soon I heard a small abruption,
Almost like a quaint percussion,
Sitting behind my bedroom door.
"Just my ears," I whispered gently,
"There’s nothing behind my bedroom door"
And I watched the dainty whore.
As memories came flooding back,
I was hit like a truck of Mac,
And almost like a heart attack,
I looked again towards the door.
Attention now drawn to the kitchen,
Which my sandwich now would sit in
Hunger in my stomach begins,
But what about the dainty whore?
Deciding that my hunger comes first
I sat up, and prepared for more.
Sandwich, then the dainty whore.
Once I stood, a breeze became me,
And I quivered almost shamely,
But this breeze was coming from
The crevice of my bedroom door
I knew that wild and wicked wind
Had hit me from my bedroom door.
To unknown ears I conversated,
"Has a vent now dislocated?
Is this all an apperation?
Or is something at my door?"
Towards the portal I walked quickly,
Pulled the handle, opened the door,
My bedroom sat, and nothing more.
Into my bedroom I then walked,
And from my TV I felt mocked,
But that horrid, fast paced tapping
Wasn’t from my bedroom nor.
Around my room I kept on looking,
But soon I found nothing was lurking,
And once again I heard that rapping,
But now outside my bedroom door.
"My sandwich must now wait for later."
I said as I had walked out of the door,
"But that noise I must explore."
Towards the kitchen I did walk,
And my expression turned to gawk,
As I stood now with my thoughts,
"That light wasn’t on before."
Now this case I had to look in,
And as I entered to the kitchen,
I noticed that my fridge was open,
And now included what wasn’t before.
I pulled the item outside the fridge,
Green head, red eyes but nothing more.
Just a head and nothing more.
Deep into this head I starred
Its eyes were glossy; its head was bare.
"What?" I yelled "What kind of fool
Do you now try to take me for?"
And even if it may sound odd to you,
The head now spoke words, "After more".
So the head I soon was dropping,
My face now blunt, my eyes now popping,
But even with the head still rolling,
Those words could stay forever more.
The head still moved with bowling talent,
And stopped upon my bedroom door.
Just a head, or something more?
As soon as my wits came back to me,
I understood, almost completely,
That head could not have possibly have said
The simple words of "After More".
The head now looking perhaps corrupt,
I soon walked over to pick it up,
But my mind would not give up,
The idea picking slowly at my core.
I placed the head upon my TV
And sat back down to listen for more.
Then soon turned off the dainty whore.
Starring deeply into the crevice,
Of the head’s ghastly appearance,
And it looked back into my iris,
A burning glaze of doubting lore.
I still sat quietly although,
I wish I could feel what I know,
And almost with a tinted glow,
This head looked back, as much before.
Almost as if it knew my thoughts,
The head still looked upon my floor.
Sat and looked, and nothing more.
Even though I felt retreating,
My heart within me kept on beating,
With hands on arms I shifted forward
And soon raised up onto the floor,
"What are you?" I shouted and raised my arms
"To only say the words After More?"
There I swung my arm and turned,
As something odd inside me burned,
And then an answer I had learned,
When the head spoke "After More".
To my knees I dropped heavily,
As I had heard those words before.
I knew I had heard "After More".
As I felt as if to cry,
A tiny piece of me did die,
And even with my mind competing
I still lied upon the floor.
"Have you won? You ghastly devil,
Surely you are purely evil!"
But my feeling of Medi
Soon had raised me off the floor.
Looking back towards the head,
I had found a simple chore,
To rid myself of "After More".
"Now you simple head of plaster,
You will find I am your master!"
And like lightning, perhaps faster,
My foot was raised above the floor.
So with my foot above the head,
I stomped down quick to make it dead,
But only was my darkest dread
To now become of after more.
Because, like I did, it revolted,
With now its pieces on the floor.
It did not die, it now was more.
So with it’s presence never leaving,
I shall lie there, always dreaming,
Dreaming of the simple peace
That I had had there once before.
The noise will never be unbroken,
Nor the stillness give me token,
To the life that I was shone then,
Before I listened at my door.
I will never live as simply
As in the wonder days of yore.
Fore now I live in after more. Christopher Rondeau
With Special thanks to E.A. Poe.
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DAFT PUNK
CHEMICAL BROTHERS
BONOBO
RAMMSTEIN
UNDERWORLD
Pulp Fiction
A Clockwork Orange
Bringing out the Dead
Memento
Goodfellas
Adaptation
Requiem for a Dream
The Boondock Saints
Videodrome
Reservoir Dogs
have a nice day :D
u have got very nice profile colours too :D
thankssssssssssssss 4 adding me once again :D