It’s 1:04 AM on the First Day of Spring.

I’m Awake.

Do you know Why?

I’m cataloging my Mistakes.

Like… why do I have all these funny linebreaks? Why did my WordPress editor just Underline “linebreaks” and make me think I spelled it wrong, and then subsequently underlined it’s own goddamn name?

Why is all this godforsaken technology constantly tell me I’m wrong? Oh, I spelled linebreak wrong?

You know what I mean, damn you.

Did I misquote that Walt Whitman quote, even though I love Walt Whitman above all other poets?

I know I did, asshat. I don’t need you to link me to the text of the poem.

(I’ll tell you a secret. I’m so nervous about writing this– omg, no pressure! god!– that I might screw it up. Well, I’ve decided this time my give-a-damn’s busted. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone makes typos, and misquotes Whitman, and misspeaks, or does the wrong thing. That’s called #beinghuman and all you need to do about that is just forgive yourself when you get hit with that red underline, right click it, see if it suggests the Word you’re trying to speak, and if it doesn’t— just fucking move on. Write. The momentum of righting is more important than getting it right. See?)

Did you click that link on “poem” up there? If you didn’t, don’t be so fucking lazy. Click it now.

(Lask is trying to raise is heavy ass obnoxious RED FLAG. Relax. Read on. This is going to be good, I promise. For science.)

Did you read it? Good. Hang onto that for more than 10 seconds, will you?


Google “Walt Whitman”

Look up “Leaves of Grass.”

Now tell the Universe what you want to do.

Of course it’s on fucking “Project Gutenburg” (real funny, God/Dramatic Irony)

I just want to read the poem.

Fuck you, Google.


(do you know what I mean? Jeezum petes. Technology is a pain in the ass.)

Technology is a distracting pain in the ass, and if you leave too many stupid tabs open, you’ll never get anything done.

Here you go:


As I ponder’d in silence,
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,
A Phantom arose before me with distrustful aspect,
Terrible in beauty, age, and power,
The genius of poets of old lands,
As to me directing like flame its eyes,
With finger pointing to many immortal songs,
And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said,
Know’st thou not there is but one theme for ever-enduring bards?
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles,
The making of perfect soldiers.

Be it so, then I answer’d,
I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one
than any,
Waged in my book with varying fortune, with flight, advance and
retreat, victory deferr’d and wavering,

(Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the field
the world,
For life and death, for the Body and for the eternal Soul,
Lo, I too am come, chanting the chant of battles,
I above all promote brave soldiers.


There that was good wasn’t it? Wait

Why did I put all those links up there? Am I trying to be punny? (NO, KARA, SOMETIMES IT’S JUST FUN not trolling!) Why did I tease you and (maybe) make you click on more than one of them?

Sometimes a little ADHD, OCD, hyper focus, and attention is a Good thing.

But if you never google “butts” and just chuckle…

you have no soul, you heARTless, fucking monster.

Did you learn anything today?

If you did, write it down.

That’s what fucking SOCIAL MEDIA is for.

Damn, Millennials. Get it together. I know you can teach your Grandpa how to use his new phone and the scary GOOGLE and not make himself look like an idiot on fucking TWITTER FOR THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD TO SEE.


Yeah, we had to go through a damned lot of boring, heavily regulated, underfunded, frustrating, bully-producing, wretchedly white and flourescent-lit, soul-crushing SCHOOL.

Didn’t we? It sucks lugging those books all over campus.

Make like Nike and just DO IT.

Damn, guys. Knowledge is power. Education is important.


So here I am, at 1 a.m. unable to sleep on a school night, because you all are too fucking stupid to use Google unsupervised.


With great power comes great responsibility.




It’s a hard life for those of us who hear all the echoes. ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.

Everything always hurts.

Life is stressful.

Stress makes us mean.

But you know what… life goes on.

And you get over things.

Because in this House (the House of God, the Halls of the Wind, the Mind Palace, or whatever the Fuck it is!) we do geek:

We think science can save the world.

We think magic exists.

But something the most fabulous and magical things get lost in the closet for a while.

So you have no choice but to sit awake in your living room at 1 a.m. with your exhausted, slightly traumatized wife, who has too much to do, and not enough time to do it in.

But she loves me enough, I’ve scared and burned her enough, that she is now curled up under my fluffy red bathroom, trying to read some Carl Sagan I handed her to occupy her insomniac mind—

and I just accidentally selected all the  type with my touchpad and deleted it all with a hasty backspace keystroke– AH! NOOOOOOOO! Not the writing!

Control + Z.

Whew, much better.

I would have been sad to lose this. Even though it looks and sounds a little crazy with all those links in it, I think I understand.

It’s not crazy. It’s just so full of information, it has to put links on everything that FEELS important, because some of it might be… to someone… somewhere…

…oh shut up, Lask, you never know who will click on what link. You can’t know what people need all the time.


Yes I can.


No, love. You can’t. You are not God.


No, but I do work for him. Because reasons. And they are many. WE ARE LEGION. (Demons are scary, but sometime scary helps you kill the Demons. Because being on the Light side is as much a choice as choosing the DARK SIDE.)

So, I’ll tell you a secret Harry.

Sometimes, I’m Dumbledore.

Sometimes I’m a silly bumblebee, who doesn’t know he can fly.

But really, at heart…

I’m a librarian.

I’m just a nerd with Google, who knows how to use the right search terms. I can find the information you want faster than you because I know how to use the tools and you hate me for it. You goddamn luddite change averse BABY BOOMER.

That was a run on sentence.

But you frustrate me.

And sometimes you fucking elect Donald J. Trump, a Youtube Comment Section Incarnate, aka… maybe the antiChrist?

I don’t know. I have too much to do to explain it all right now, Elanor.

Just link what’s important, push PUBLISH and SHARE on this, and go to BED.


Thank you, Alaskran. I have to go work for the Library tomorrow.

Because Elanor needs a paycheck.


Isn’t money just the root of all evil?


Trump’s just old, white, male, stupid, preoccupied with his business because he can’t disappoint his WEALTHY STUCK UP BUSINESSMAN FATHER

who loaned him the money to get started.

I don’t hate Trump. He just inherited the family business because time passes, elections roll around, and sometimes the entire country is man because SOMEONE gave us a big black eye.

But guess what?

God just Rafiki’d us all.

Sometimes the past can hurt. You can either RUN FROM IT–

–or… ?

Well, that part’s up to you.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him click, folks.

Be ware the LAZY STUPID.

It’s the root of all evil

Mom and Dad.

Just click the links and ask me when you don’t get it. That’s what librarians are for. Delegation is a beautiful thing.

Good night, everybody.

God Bless Us. Every. One.

Image result for mic drop



ECHO echo… echo…





…hey, she’s kinda hot, huh?

THIS GIRL IS ON FIRE… errrr… errrr…


(singing in the rain)

Now do you understand?



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