Sunday, November 15, 2009

My third Omegle conversation after being disconnected twice because I am a boy:


Stranger: hola..

You: If you disconnect me because I have a Y chromosome...I will be upset.

Stranger: habla e3spanol?

You: Haha.

You have disconnected.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


That's an impassable hill.
I've failed to climb it on several occasions.
It's rejected me three times, to be exact.
I have no idea what's on the other side.
Or what my motivation is.
Why do I keep trying, I wonder.
Impassable isn't an exaggeration.
I should know that by now.
The hill doesn't care what I accomplish.
It's just interested in being a hill.

So, I've decided to give up.
I put down my tools and protections.
The hill can be a hill.
There is no reason to pursue it.
More climbers will come.
Ones more suited to climbing the hill.
I can't watch them climb it any longer.
I see in them, my own shortcomings.
And then, I wonder.
What is it I lack to climb you...


Thursday, September 24, 2009


I've been stuck in your emptiness.
I'm your bridge between the worthy epochs.
I'm the hand that lifts you up.
I help you look forward.
I exist only in your past.

I'm your filler.

Sunday, September 6, 2009


I miss when I seconded as a pillow, despite my lack of cushiony brawn.

I miss when my heart beat was a mellifluous cadence, drumming you to sleep.

You were just a silly girl.

I am still just a silly boy.

I wonder if you miss anything...?


Aw. K.

Sunday, August 23, 2009


There isn't much to sitting. All you have to do is bend your knees and relax. It is a reaction to fatigue, a reflex. Your mind tells your body that your legs are tired. You sit. This is simple.

Still, Gertrude preferred to believe there was an expertise to sitting, a system, even a style. She said it didn't depend on how you sat, but why you were sitting. Some did it to relax, and others to quench their laziness. Others, still, sat to stimulate thought, preferring comfort over pacing.

How many, I wonder, sat the way she did?

"Time is mine. Sitting's just the easiest way to make sure of it."

"That seems a little juvenile."

"Well, I'm seventeen. It makes sense."

"No, I mean it seems childish. There are a million other things you could be doing with your time."

"Exactly. There are a million other things. That's why I like to sit. It's the act of not doing something."

I wondered why I liked her. I mean, I really thought about it.

Gertrude pulled the hair out of her face, and she kept colouring the birthday sign.

I remembered why I liked her.

Juvenile? I was a hypocrite.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


You suppress and destroy all dissidents. Their retaliation to injustice rests while your false light blinds them, suppressing sight to truth. Light that serves to blind is not a true light. You deceive all whose political ground would serve to quash your authoritarianism. Surely, the nuances of opinion can't govern the multifariousness of unquantifiably diverse individuals.

I would be willing to endure the pains of change, no matter how agonizing the peripeteia, so long as the birth of understanding remains at the foreground of the new age.

Monday, July 27, 2009


I've been noticing an excruciating trend growing in the ranks of movie scriptwriters, or at least the lackluster hiring process for scriptwriters.

This may sound a tad bit pretentious, but...nevermind. I'm not even gonna go there. I'm simply going to say that I believe 50% of unknown writers out there today, both my age and up, have the capacity to write better scripts than the majority of the trash being spewed into the mainstream and indie films of today.

I almost want to go into this profession just to spark a light under these lethargic morons.

Question is, how does one get into this line of work?

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Robotic Poetry

I can't write poetry. For some reason, I get all robotic. Like an automaton, so here's me attempting to get better at it. Sorry for the garbage that follows.

Today's selective blindness,
Is the bane of years,
Your stifled peripherals,
Follow paths around me,
Indirect decisions,
Always decipher love,
With reciprocated lust,
Kiss and touch,
Eyes of falsity and lies,
Uncaring yet unfaltering,
Finding their victim,
And allowing slavery,
To any who take hold,
Giving yet another piece,
Of your shattered offer,
Priceless and broken,
Who can repair you,
Who can love you

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Sand betwixt my toes

They all went to the beach today.
My mom said, "You'll regret not going."
I lied and said I wouldn't.
I stayed home and made bad decisions.
Eating, watching, lounging, dieing.
I made up things.
"I don't like the sand."
"The water is cold this time of year."
"Too many people for me."

I love sand.
Cold water is refreshing.
People give me joy.

Because the truth makes me looks stupid.
I can't explain it to anyone.
And I'm tired of hearing that they all have the answer.
It assumes I AM stupid.
Like I haven't thought about it day in and day out.
Trying to figure out the answer.
Desperately searching for the truth.
As if the three words would fix my problem.
"Get over it."
Thanks mom.
I'll do that.

It's not so simple.
So I lie.
Even though I don't want to.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


I made a mistake.
Shame followed.
Like a looming cloud.
Like a big, dark, gloomy, looming cloud.
Like a big, dark, gloomy, looming, cumulonimbus, ominous cloud.
Of shame.
I'm praying for rain.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Letting go.

You were wonderful - a quality I'm sure you've retained since then. For as cheesy as it is, the thing I remember most is your smile. Your big gaping smile. Every time I saw it, I felt like I had won an award. It was a worthwhile accomplishment to make you laugh, even though it was an easy task.

I wonder what it was, that drove me away from you. It certainly wasn't your laugh or your impeccable taste or your kiss. What was lacking?

It's sad to think how selfish I must have been. I wanted more? More than you? What chance is there for anyone else?

You were perfect. On paper, you were everything I dreamed of. Did you fit it too well? That just seems silly, but maybe I wasn't ready for it all. I could've been with you till death. Happy.

I lost something very special. I lost someone very special.

It was my decision, but now I wish it was yours. I wish you were the foolish one, the selfish one.

Right at the end, I bought you a card, and I was ready to tell you. You would have thought it was cute.

It said something very important inside.

Three words that had I waited to tell you. Waited until I was ready to mean them.

You never got that card. You never heard those three words.

I think that was it. When I lost it. When I lost you...

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Just checking.

Doing the last check of the night, I go through my several different internet-social mediums: Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, Blogspot, Dailybooth, Youtube. Always in this order, though depending on my current position, one or two of these may be exempt due to deletion and/or neglect.

This is the routine. I wonder how I ever managed without these. Then, I wonder why I believe it's essential to my functionality.

When will I realize the destructive nature of monotony?

There are few things more excrutiating than nothing.

However, something new has caught my attention - attractive, even at the apex of it all. She isn't a single one though, and that is most upsetting. Is it an instinct of survival? Has my mind created the desires and illusions out of pure inactivity?

I check it all again, before bed - the pointless social outlets, only serving to highlight my own inadequacies...

...until tomorrow, where something, someone, can distract me again between the stages of lacking.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


I wonder how much time I've wasted:

Sleeping in.
Learning useless information, specifically advanced mathematical equations. (I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure Pythagoras was a great guy.)
Watching awesome Japanese cartoons.
Watching dorky American cartoons.
Watching awesomely dorky Americanized-Japanese cartoons.
Finishing the song playing in my car when I get home.
Writing blogs.
Pooping. (Let's be honest, it's a waste of time. Colostomy bags are the way to go.)
Capitalizing and punctuating when it isn't needed or incorrect.
Wall-staring. (It's a legitimate form of entertainment)

When you think about it...I could have used most of that time to watch more Japanese cartoons.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Quit or Poor

I need money.
I want to quit my job.
I get money from my job.
My job is making me feel terrible.
Money makes me feel good.
Quitting my job would make me feel good.
I'll be broke if I quit my job.
The chances of finding another job are slim.

I am stuck.
Like peanut butter to the roof of the corporate world's mouth.
Please rinse me off with a cool glass of milk.
And help me to stop making bad metaphors.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Space Cowboys - Captain Malcolm Reynolds

"How can we win, when fools can be kings?" - Muse

Hoof beats on steel plating
Unnatural and archaic beasts
Playing host to new ages
Or old ages made new again

A holstered pistol
Open and displayed
Respected and honorable arrogance
It says a few things
Try me
Fight me
Fear me

Permanent smirks
Leather hats to hide them
Snarky and reserved
Serious and boisterous
Gloves to fit what situation dictates

World to world
Always the same faces
Fighting no more than you have to
No less than needs call
Unless it's funny
...It's always funny

Taking a bullet
Being hated
Loving never acting
Pushing away

Helping the helpless
Fighting the ruthless

Doing it for those you love

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Starbucks Parking Lot

A young father brought a plastic guitar out of Game Stop. His kid was beaming - skipping to the mini-van where his mom parked it. I wonder who was happier.

An older man gets out of his beat-up Chevy and walks into Jimmy John's, but I don't think a sandwich is going to make his large belly feel any better about its size.

An incredibly beautiful woman in a Cadillac Escalade drives by. She doesn't look happy. At all.

Two teen girls drive by in some crappy car that spent too much time in the 80's. They look happy. Really happy.

A well-dressed girl with good posture walks into McDonald's, she's holding her neatly folded apron and hat.

The woman smoking an entire pack of cigarettes keeps looking over her shoulder. I keep imagining Death taping on her shoulder.

A middle-aged man sits in his truck, waiting for either a friend or kingdom come. He waits a long time...

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

The Architects - Part 2

This will make slightly more sense if you read the first excerpt here:

So, there’s this new instructor for my Linear Social-Structure class, and she kind of reminds me of you. She even smells like your letters. For a minute, I thought it could have been you, if she wasn’t so old. She wasn’t you, in any case. It was more accurate to just say she reminds me of you. Anyway, she’s a good friend of Jack’s, so she’s probably tyrannical in her own way. Jack controls every little thing I do.

If he was my dad, I would be more rebellious, but he’s got the upper hand, being my uncle and all. Of course, he doesn’t know I read my blueprints, so at the very least, I know what to expect. Still, it doesn’t give me much to work with.

Yup. Born of parchment, and die by parchment. It’s all pretty silly if you think about it. No one ever thought to just let life happen, as it were. That’s the Council for you - control what can be controlled, and grant freedom in the form of constraints, whether it’s constraints of time or fear or capacity doesn’t matter. It’s all the same anyway.

What an ironic name for a council. The Life Council of Free Creation. That's a joke. Free Creation? I mean, I take a class called Linear Social-Structure! Freedom and linear structure are complete opposites. It’s a self-refuting name. Asinine, if you ask me.

Oh, sorry for complaining again. Well, you know there’s no one else I can say this to. We will meet eventually, Pandora. I’ll get this off my chest, and we can just be. Just be and let our parchment run out. We’ll change the blueprints. We’ll make them eat their ink!



Sunday, June 7, 2009


"Well, I think someone wiped my memories clean. That's the only way I can explain it."

"That sounds a little sci-fi to me. We don't live in that kind of world."

"Maybe you don't. Anyways, they're gone, so what should I do?"

"What do you remember?"

"I don't know - English, math, science, history. How ridiculous. I remember all the high school prerequisite classes. Whoever did this to me was a sadist."

"You don't remember anything else...anyone else?"

"I can remember people, but no one I've ever met. Hitler, Stalin, Beethoven, even Captain Picard from the Starship Enterprise."

" one else?"

"Is that really the question you want to ask?"


"Then ask me."

"Do you remember me?"

"I would give all the memories I have to remember you. You're the only one I've met so far that didn't look at me like I'm a stranger. You make me remember things that I don't even think really happened."

"Is that a no?"

"That's a not yet."

Sunday, May 31, 2009


I smell you everywhere - at work, at home, at church, the bank, the store. Why did you pick such a common perfume? You know how good my memory is. It tortures me.

You're still here after you've gone, clinging to everything you touched. I hate it. It reminds me of you, and makes me delusional. You'd go insane realizing the volume of monuments I've raised in your honor. You'd fall flat seeing the magnitude of grandiose imagination stolen away to commemorate the times that never happened.

Quit taking up my thoughts. Get out of my head. To be honest, you don't deserve to be there.

To be honest, I deserve better.

To be honest...

You can fly to the ends of the earth, and you're still here, taunting me with your smell. Curse the innovative mind who created such a painful fragrance.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Captain Guile's Pride

Tim Robbins wasn't a particularly honorable man, and given his history with the crew, no one was about to save him from his fate. No one saves a betrayer, and no pirate cares to cease a whipping.

"What's done is done, Robbins," Jame said, "You ain't no murderer, but you sure as spittin' outta be whipped as one. Ain't no crime worth its weight than betrayal. You admit to it an we might lessen the severity of this ere lashing."

"Cat!" as Robbins had always called the captain, "I been with the Anchor evers since the birth! We ain't no enemy o' each other Cat! We ain't no enemy!"

The Captain held his glowing-gray gaze on Robbins, letting only the shame of his crime bear down upon him. Captain Guile owned neither guilt nor deceit amongst his crew. He wasn't a man of righteous behavior, but honorable to his convictions in every right, and innocent of any crime among his men.

The accused Robbins couldn't stand the gaze of his captain. Shameful, he looked away, frightened not of his punishment, but having Captain

"...whip me," he spoke just loud enough for all to hear.

"Whip me," a commanding voice called.

Robbins looked up, "Cat?"

"Whip me in his place," Guile said as he pulled off his clothing.

"Cat, I ain't no deserving o' such mercy! Whip me!" he cried, butting his head against the crew members.

"Robbins!" the commanding voice of the Captain bellowed, "Who is the captain of this ship! When does the Anchor sail! Where does this ship fly!"

All of these questions were painfully rhetorical, but everyone knew the answers to them.

The ship answered only to Captain Guile of East Down. It went where he dictated, and it left when he gave the word.

"Whip me," the Captain said for the last time, pulling off the last of his clothing.

Clenching the whips in hands hands, Jame looked to Robbins who desperately wanted to take the beating.

He knew what needed to be done. Broken, he gave the Captain the fifty lashes that Robbins had so rightfully deserved. No one watched. No one apart from Robbins, who watched every moment as the leather bore down upon the man who had taken him in when no one else would.

Never did the Captain's gaze leave Robbin's. He took lash after lash, never losing his stare. Everyone wondered if he even felt the pain on his back, for the pain in his heart was greater still.

But even greater than this was the pain Tim Robbins would have to live with.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

To my heart...

When you beat correctly, we're peachy keen.

Keep screwing up like this, and I'm going to punch you in the right atrium.

Seriously. Don't be a jerk. I don't remember dictating this crap. I thought we were symbiotic buddies...?

Cut it out.



Monday, May 18, 2009

Internet monologuing

Have you ever IMed someone, and they didn't answer right away, so you began to ramble?

Really? Me too. We have so much in common.

[12:26:09 AM] Jake Sidwell says: You up?
[12:26:29 AM] Jake Sidwell says: I are have a question.
[12:27:11 AM] Jake Sidwell says: Well, more of a declarative statement with an implied question.
[12:27:16 AM] Jake Sidwell says: But a question nonetheless.
[12:28:22 AM] Jake Sidwell says: Is it just me, or does "Nonetheless" seem like grammatical cheating? I mean, with that logic I could just make entire sentences one word. And forget about periods. What's the point when everything runs together anyways?
[12:28:25 AM] Jake Sidwell says: I digress.
[12:28:28 AM] Jake Sidwell says: I'm off tomorrow.
[12:28:35 AM] Jake Sidwell says: The question has been implied.
[12:28:40 AM] Jake Sidwell says: Answer at your leisure.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Today is a good day

I'm having a good day today.

I don't feel great, but I feel great. If that makes any sense to you, you're probably insane, or you're me from the future.

By the by, If you're me from the future, can you leave a comment telling me if I become successful eventually?

Unless, of course, you're from the incredibly near future, in which case, just leave me to my fate.

Anyways, I'm just having a good day, and I wanted to tell a bunch of strangers.

Thanks for being the sweetest strangers I've ever had the chance to write to in an online blog on a Friday.


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Architects - Part 1

Some things you really don't want to know. Probably happened right after Academy, or sometime around then. No wait, was it before? I can't remember. I forget stuff all the time. Is it that important anyways?

I've been given a layout of the rest of my life. It's an ugly blueprint, but no uglier than yours, I'd suppose, not that you'd ever know. At least I get to see mine. Sometimes I try to draw on it, but Jack slaps my hand. He knows I'm not a friggen kid, but he still treats me like one. Can't really blame the guy though. I mean, I stole his pencils a couple times. He was ├╝ber pissed.

"They're not toys, you idiot! You're not ready. I'm incredibly annoying, blah blah blah", he said.

I mean, geez, he knows how to change all the blueprints back anyways. He remembers all that stuff. Says I'll do it someday too. Not sure if I want that part of the job though. You don't miss things you can't remember.

Besides, I don't even know if I want to be a Scheduler. The ones I met are all boring. The lives they drew were so linear, so symmetrical. Where was the art? They were just following the formulas. Life isn't math. It's not an equation. Not that it matters. I've already seen my blueprint. The layout was so undeviating, I wanted to vomit. I'm going to meet the idiot who drew mine up and beat the crap out of him (Hey, don't tell Jack, but I think I'm going to try and change it. The Academy would be pissed if they found out, but...we'll talk about it when we meet up.)

Anyways, I consider myself a musician of life. An architect of ingenuity, you know? I can't ignore a possibility. I don't know. It's like, they're so concerned with the rules, that they forget about the beauty.

They're friggen line tracers. Only see the positive space, and they completely ignore what really makes the picture beautiful. All the negative space is thrown away. Bunch of pansies are too scared to venture into creativity.

Ah crap, Jack's coming. I gotta seal this before he can read it. Don't forget to write back.

Talk to you soon Pandora.



Sorry for complaining so much.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Something Amused Me.

This is a conversation which proceeded through my facebook status message.

It amused me.

Jake Sidwell:

Starbucks...I am here. I don't want to be. Go away, Starbucks. But keep overpaying me, your terrible pay. And give your great benefits, that I don't take advantage of. But most importantly, go away.


starbucks, i will do all the daytime sheets that nobody got done that morning. then i will close you down by myself. and then i will open you again before i leave.

Jake Sidwell:

Starbucks, I have left you, but only so I can see you again in a few hours when I can continue the insanity of doing the religiously similar routine as the aforementioned shift. I wouldn't mind if you burned yourself down while I was away. Just make sure my tips make it through the fire.


bahaha @ clopening.


oh both of you relax, if you dont like it quit or learn to have a servants heart grrr


I am relaxed, I just hate my job. You're saying that everyone who doesn't like their job should quit? By that logic, America would be unemployed. Just because I hate it, doesn't mean I'm ungrateful for it. I enjoy the crappy paychecks, I just don't enjoy what it takes to get me there. :)

Obviously, it's a simple task to amuse me...

Thursday, April 30, 2009


Of you, ethereal beauty is born, flooded in elegance. You are the Morning's favorite customer, and even the Sun awaits your arrival. Your wake is a breath of pristine air, for your time is my substance.

I cannot stand to look at you, for my eyes should not allow this privilege. Red-woven silk, cut sharp at your nape, golden-brown flecks enveloping your skin - milky, smooth, flawless. I am unworthy to touch.

Eyes that hold water, transforming their semblance - an ocean of color, an outlandish sea.

Wisdom and truth reside on your tongue, and a blameless navigator steers your words. The concession to listen is a gift undeserved.

You are a purpose, an ambition. You are an outlying star - something to be discovered. You are uncharted, unclaimed, untainted, a mystery.

Be my City of Gold, and let me find you, me alone.

I am your pioneer.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Who cares?

It's funny how the more your opinion matters to you, the less it matters to everyone else.

It's directly proportional.

If your opinion is the only one that matters to you, then it probably doesn't matter to anyone else, whereas if you respect everyone's opinion and collectively assume the right decision given a basis of generalized knowledge, your opinion will probably matter to just about everybody.

This all sucks, because my opinion is pretty important to me.


Monday, April 27, 2009

You should never forget...

T 1. awesome IHOP is.
o 2. ...that light-up shoes are ALWAYS in.
r 3. ...why you started wearing clothes.
e 4. ...that it's never OK to punch a man in the place that makes him a man.
a 5. ...that leather vests are only cool if you can't see them.
d 6. ...there will always be pain in the world, but there will also always be ice cream.
m 7. what it feels like to have someone.
y 8. it feels to lose someone.
b 9. ...when it's OK to use an ellipses.
l 10. ...that the Coyote will never catch the Roadrunner, and that's no metaphor.
o 11. ...that unicorns and faeries aren't real, unless you're Tom Cruise.
g 12. ...your favorite way to waste time.

Friday, April 24, 2009


What magic does a mother hold?

I mean, besides mending the scars of a 6 year old with a kiss.

How long will she still be mommy?

Stay mommy, please. I need it for just a little while longer.

My Toys R Us instinct is kicking in.

My Lost Boy complex.

Just be the net under my tight rope until I get to the other side.

There are people over there and they'll help me once I get across.

For now, I just need to know there's something that will catch me if I fall along the way.

Thanks in advance, mom. I love you so very much.

Oh, and sorry for beating up your other kids, but you know they were asking for it.

-your first son

Monday, April 20, 2009

No more.

No more upsetting or depressing blogposts from A Tiny Little Cohenism.

Promise. :) Though, it was nice to vent and express my feelings with prettiful bleakness. :)


Sunday, April 19, 2009


I see a prison in the mirror sometimes.

Sometimes it smiles back at me, and sometimes it winks before I go out on a date.

It even fools me from time to time, and I start to think, "I could live in there. I could be comfortable."

And at the very moment where things begin to feel content again, the bars appear, and I remember the constraints.

Still, I imagine I haven't been sentenced for life.

My Judge is just and forgiving, and there is no jury.

And so, I await His appeal.

I will wait and pray and hope and live.

I will live, and despite the prison, I will make plans for the time of my freedom.

Friday, April 17, 2009


I'm starting to wonder if it will ever go away.

My thoughts are a perfect circle, from one morbid thought to the next and back again, with unwarranted outward optimism to cover them up. I don't know who my smile is fooling, but it isn't me.

Feels like my body is screaming, crawling, trying to escape the one thing it's afraid of - being trapped inside itself. I feel claustrophobic inside my own skin.

I want to cry so badly, but I'm afraid that if I do I'll be admitting to my own fears.

Go away, Anxiety. You're destroying my potential.

I can't do what I want to do.

You're stealing my time. This is MY time. You're a thief and a liar. Most people haven't met you face to face, but I see you everyday. You hide from the discerning, and you weaken the strongest knees.

I hate you. I hate you with everything that I am, but I can't seem to win a battle against you.

Imagine being with your greatest enemy face to face everyday, with no chance of rest, no sign of peace.

Imagine then, your enemy is stealing the most precious things you have, and you will never get them back.

Imagine then, that this enemy lives within you.

...what then, would you do?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Physics analogies.

Who is your potential person?

If, from the day of your birth until now, you did everything in your power to gain the highest achievable goal you're aware of, could you, and would you?

I work at Starbucks.

This is not my potential person.

This is my kinetic person (if you'll allow me the physics analogy). I'm moving, and I'm using energy, but there isn't any potential behind my current endeavor.

What is my potential person, I wonder?

President, physicist, doctor, teacher, custodian, vagabond?

Does "greatest potential" represent positions of power and influence, or is it fulfilling your path to the best of your ability, regardless of the position of life's respective compass?

Who was your potential person?

And more importantly, what potential is still left for your to fulfill, and how much of it will you pursue?

Friday, April 10, 2009

2009 years ago.

Thank You for this day.

This day in which You saved my wretched soul, and the souls of all who would call on You.

You are precious to me, and I pray this never changes.

Thank You.

Most Truly Yours,

Jake Douglas Sidwell

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


The greatest fear I've ever experienced in my 22 years is the realization that I'm scared of hope.

It's the most bipolar emotion.

In a single moment, you can go from gazing into a glowing-golden horizon to wallowing in the darkest night of your lifetime.

Still, I won't let the possibility of a dark future shadow my ability to hope, and I won't let the fear of change hold me.

Most importantly, I'll be careful with how I use it, and I'll choose my battles differently.

No more silly hope for cake and ice cream.

But hope for that's something worth the fear.

No, I won't let go of that despite the greatest terror.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

(For lack of a better name) Captain Guile XII

Many people don't know this about me, but I wish, quite desperately, to live the life of a sea-faring pirate, giving up my path for a random wind-chosen destination.

Given that I don't have the sailing ability, nor the survival instinct, to live on an open sea with a crew of my own ruffians, I've decided to live this life vicariously through my own writing.

However, as it is, I have not written a single pirate-y adventure. So, without further ado, I give you the preface of: "Captain Guile".

Although Captain Guile couldn't be considered a stranger to the Glass Sea, there still was no hope for preparation on that dead ocean. No matter what tools or provisions you've provided your crew with, and regardless of their ability or comradery, the wind will always be the greatest asset a pirate, nay, a man of the sea can ask for.

Without it, the helm, the sails, the deck, the bridge, the ship itself means nothing.

The Glass Sea made this fear a reality to all who crossed it. It would seize whatever wild men attempted to cross its glassy waters, and whether it be thirst, starvation, or madness held no issue. It had driven the most noble of pirates (however noble that may be) to acts of unspeakable mutiny, even so among pirates

Rowing was out of the question, as it would stir up monstrous thirst and hunger, as well as catalyzing sun madness. Surely, even an unskilled crew would take a maelstrom over a windless sea.

The Captain knew this best of all.

With his weathered eyes shut, he breathed deep, almost trying to pull in the wind itself. He knew his hand meant nothing against the helm, but there he was in control.

"Mr. Saul," he called to the deck.

"Captain," the first mate answered.

"What say you?" the Captain asked.

"Captain?" Saul asked, confused.

"To cross the Glass Sea once more," the Captain started, hand smooth on the helm, "the choice of fools, was it?"

"As always is, Captain. Only problem is, you got more fools to follow you."

Though he didn't smile, Captain Guile felt at ease again, grasping the helm, "Aye."

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Actual Conversations, Act 1.

Act 1:

"I've never been so cold in my life. I feel like I'm in an igloo."

"Actually, I've heard igloos are quite warm, given the right architect."

"....I feel like I'm outside of an igloo."

Saturday, March 21, 2009


Spelling is very impornant to me.

But not as important as grammar is to me as important as spelling is.

I guess that's why I'm a riter?

Eye am boar ring.

I felt the sudden urge to make a blogpost.

I also spelled "urge" like this the first time:


Cause that's how it sounds.


Sunday, March 15, 2009


Thy smoothest of weathered plastic,
Thine metallic ying yang of sweat,
Oh sweet electronic nectar,

Thou dost sustaineth me...


Saturday, March 14, 2009

Letters to my Emotions:

Dear Melancholy,

I'm sorry for stalking you, but you were always there when I was feeling down.

Dear Courage,

Where the frick have you been? Seriously. Quit being a massive douche and come home. I miss you more than Joy.

Dear Loneliness,

I don't quite know how to say this...but, I think it's time for you to move out.

Dear Curiosity,

You should come out with us sometime. You were the most fun to hang out with.

Dear Intelligence,

What are you, five? Grow up and read a book, you moron.

Dear Creativity,

Even though I like you, you're not an artist dude. Sorry.

Dear Self-Confidence,

You're an idiot.

Dear Unquenchable Gluttony,

I think I'm in love with you. Don't tell Melancholy...

Friday, March 13, 2009


When I see a word I don't know,
I usually judge whether or not it's a typo
by the source from which it comes.

If you're an idiot,
I'm not going to spend more than 5 seconds
trying to figure it out.

If you have a higher level of intelligence,
I'll probably look it up.

If you're Wikipedia,
well, if you're Wikipedia...

That's a story entirely its own.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I Wish

If someone told you that anything you wished for would come true so long as your wishes remained selfless and giving, how long would you last before the desire to wish something for yourself would take hold of you?

Or would you twist the rules and wish for the betterment of those around you, as to benefit yourself?

More importantly...

What if that's already the world we live in?

Thursday, March 5, 2009


Things I need to do at some point:

Make $1,000,000 in my life by doing something exciting, like who wants to be a millionaire.

Give away $1,000,000 accrued money to charitable organizations.

Things I need to experience:

Swallowing a bug while on a motorcycle, because I was laughing at an inappropriate joke.

Swimming in the Bermuda Triangle to see what all the hullabaloo is about.

Things I need to stop doing:

Using the word hullabaloo.

Making incredibly stupid decisions every single day.

Things I need to start doing:

Using the word tomfoolery more often.

Reading my Bible more often.

Things I need to eat:

A freshly picked coconut on an uninhabited island.

A grub.

Things I need to see:

Not America...

Saturday, February 28, 2009

In lonely company.

It feels like someone is strangling me. It ain't enough to kill me, but enough to make my chest itch, searching for a different kind of air. It's that stagnant kind of air. Not the kind you breathe to stay alive, but the kind to keep you afloat.

Yep, everyone's just trying to float in this massive social ocean.

That guy in the dark leather jacket, drowned a few years ago, but I guess that's what you get for being a habitual abuser.

Miss bright-red lipstick over there is barely holding her nostrils above the water, but what kind of air is she even breathing, I wonder? Can't be good for the lungs, that's for sure.

See me, I developed gills. I didn't mind letting the water take me. It's places like this that remind me of the stagnant air I used to breathe. It's an acrid-flavored air.

The tiers of importance and power, the social staircase, they're lined with the putrid corpses of drown victims and people screaming for help. It sure ain't easy to live in a place with no help.

The problem is, people are so afraid of searching the bottom of the deep, dark ocean that they won't even take the chance to find out what's there. They float desperately at the top until either, they die face down in whatever killed them, or they give up and drown, never getting to see what they were so afraid of in the first place.

You've got to grow some gills.

You've got to grab hold of Fear and tell her who's running the show.

And it sure ain't you, kiddo.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Dear nose,

Dear nose,

As I'm sure you are aware, you are quite odd and misshapen. Sometimes people don't like you, but I've never held any contempt towards you for the way you've grown, nor the reactions you cause. You've never started to bleed at inconvenient times, nor have you harbored an embarrassing solidification of mucus and displayed it openly for a crush of mine. Not once have you betrayed my trust and blown skittles instead of snot, though I wouldn't be apposed to such an event. *hint hint*
I'm not sure why it's recommended to breathe through you in order to calm myself, but I'm glad that I have a second option in case my mouth fails to open.
I think you hit puberty a little late, and you're starting to grow hair in weird places. Don't worry, it's perfectly natural.
I apologize on behalf of my mother for failing to immunize me from certain seasonal allergens. I know it's a rough time for you, but please refrain from emitting your high-pitched mating noises. It's not appealing for anyone, even the other squeaking noses.
I promise to take good care of you and keep you clean. Just please keep up your end of the bargain, and continue to conceal your cavernous depths from any female onlookers.


Jake Douglas Sidwell

Saturday, February 21, 2009

More important than daily apples.

Can you do me a hugely huge favor?

My good friend Shawna has entered a competition which she holds to be one of the most important events in her life.

If you could go and rate her video 5 stars on their site, we would very much appreciate it.



Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The Game.

I lost the game.


Not "The Game".

But the game.

The O.C. trivia game.

Season 1, of course.

Because no other season is worthy of momentary conversational memorization.

However, I think it's important to note this...

I am making a solemn promise never to lose again.

For the sake of all that is good and right in this world.

I will destroy all my future Season 1 O.C. Trivia Game opponents.

With the dark force and power of a thousand Jupiter moons.

No, wait.

Two-thousand Jupiter moons.

Be afraid, future opponents.

I shall smite thee.

I shall smite thee whilst employing Shakespearean colloquialism.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Good decisions usually = hard decisions.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the decisions I make.
What do people think when they see me?
Do they see a man of integrity, or just a goofy kid with a youtube account?
Every action I take affects how others visualize me.
This isn't to say that everyone's opinions of me are what's important.
But certainly, I should be living up to a specific standard.
If I'm not meeting that standard, then I need to rethink my decision making process.
Specifically speaking, my Christian lifestyle hasn't been apparent the way I'd like it to be.
I feel a bit constricted in that aspect.
Youtube has been a haven for people like TheAmazingAtheist, who spew hate at others just for choosing to live a different lifestyle than them.
However, according to my respective faith, those of us who are persecuted for the name of Jesus are blessed.
This isn't to say, "Go search for persecution, as to receive blessing."
It simply means that if you stick to your guns, when push comes to shove, and show where you stand, you will be blessed for doing so.
So why do I hold this cowardice when it comes to standing firm in who I am and who I choose to follow?
Is it the fear of rejection, or the innate defensive reaction to attack?
I haven't the slightest.
Still, in the coming weeks, I'm going to try and make my true-self more apparent to those around me, instead of compromising my values for the sake of conforming.

I hope everyone will respect that choice.


Thursday, February 12, 2009

The fallacies of age.

I miss being a child.

The incomparable beauty of blissful ignorance is the most grand of my losses.

I didn't need a pea coat in the fall, and I definitely didn't need my Chuck Taylors to impress the ladies (though I'm sure they still would've been a help, despite the 90's lack of sensible style).

The world didn't care about me, and I didn't care about the world. Not in a cruel way, but with a genuine innocence. We were both unaware of each other.

Possibly the most unnerving thing I've grown to learn is that I become more ignorant with every bit of knowledge I gain. The more I learn, the less I know.

The truest words I can say are that "I know nothing." But it's nothing original.

It was a beautiful era when I didn't know that I knew nothing.

I miss it.

I miss being a child.

But more importantly, I'm glad that I know I miss it.

It encourages the pursuit to know. The pursuit to learn. The pursuit of knowledge.

The endless pursuit that inevitably ends with me knowing nothing.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The most poignant color.

Are you going to wear the white dress?

You know that they know that you know it's a lie.

So why would you wear it?

Your mother picked you out a nice gray dress. Well, technically it's ash, but let's not split hairs.

It's not like you're admitting anything. Everyone already knows.

Your grandmother isn't around anymore. Her heart won't be broken.

It's not going to match the bridesmaids dresses.

You have to wear the gray one.

You have to.

Just be honest.

I'll love you the same in your ash-coloured dress.

I knew what I was getting myself into.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Spoken by two

"I've been thinking about you a lot."
"About what?"
"...I don't know. Just everything, I guess."
"That sounds a little cheesy."
"I know, but I don't know how else to explain it. You...fascinate me."
"What do you want me to say?"
"What do you want to say?"
"I want to say a lot of things.
"Like what?"
" much I enjoy getting to know you."
"But you already know me."
"No, not like that. Getting to know your vices. You can't truly care about someone unless you're willing to love their little...eccentricities."
"I'm eccentric? Gee, thanks."
"Yes, but you make it sound so bad."
"Well, of course. What other connotation could it have?"
"I wouldn't like you if you weren't your own person."
"You always used to say things like that. I miss it."

Friday, February 6, 2009

Note to self...

You should think about...

...throwing away those old yearbook photos from high school before you end up having a kid who ridicules you for being unable to see the fashionable trends of the future.

...making your own lunch instead of biting Dave Thomas' hook everyday. His big, juicy, delicious, heart-clogging, meaty hook.

...paying an extra sixty dollars a paycheck for health insurance. Not for just-in-case matters, but just in case you get an adventurous idea that may lead to a just-in-case matter.

...loving yourself a little more.

...loving yourself a little less.

...spending more time and money on people who don't share your name, address and social security number.

...spending less time and money on animated cartoon characters, even if they have really cool Japanese voices and magical powers...or ninja moves...or samurai swords. Well, maybe not samurai swords, but definitely ninja moves.

...taking your time when creating creative creations so as to avoid blog posts of a convoluted and sub-par nature.

...not being afraid to take advantage of that ever-so-useful delete button.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

It bothers me that Marc Forster breathes.

I am upset.

I've experienced all that disappointment has to offer.

I feel like breaking something valuable, but I don't know why.

Something made of glass.

Yeah. Like a window.

Possibly Marc Forster's window. The window near his table. The table where he eats his food.

Then, Marc Forster would come home. And he would be upset.

That would certainly lift my spirits.

Specifically the spirits that help me enjoy James Bond films.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


I don't like how aging works

But I like ice cream.

22 is a boring age.

But so was 21, because it didn't mean anything to non-alcoholic me.

I don't like to spend my money.

But I didn't mind buying myself an expensive birthday present.

I don't like a lot of attention.

But...wait, no I love a lot of attention.

This is my day, so pay attention to me.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Literary Importance

Sometimes, I wonder where the book lies,
You know, the one with all the truths,
The one with all the secrets

Is it covered in dust somewhere,
Or is it open to the right pair of eyes

I wonder why they picked it up,
That set of eyes,
Those seeking eyes,
Was it of curiosity,
Of understanding

Why weren’t you the one,
You have the book too, don’t you,
Why is it still there,
On your shelf,
aging like dead bones,
Right next to Shirley’s Guide to Home Cooking

It has the answer to your question,
You know, that one question,
The one you’ve pondered,
Since Mrs. Barnes second grade class,
The class with the multi-colored fish wallpaper,
And the Macintosh computers,
Where you played Oregon Trail

The answer is so close,
It's so simple,
But you won't find,
And you won't read it

Sometimes, I wonder where the book lies,
You know, the one with all the truths,
The one with all the secrets,
But then I remember,
We all have the book,
We need only to reach up and open it

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Beauty of Bliss

There was a boy sitting on the cracked asphalt
after buying ice cream from a man
who made less money than the beggar
across the street.

The boy's jean overalls were covered with indiscernible
items of old food, but it didn't come off as lazy.
It came off as cute.

I guess that's the difference between him and me.

He had on two different colored socks,
one sky blue and the other navy blue, (an obvious fashion statement)
but they weren't as noticeable as his shoes.
They were showing signs of the
boundless nights of tag and
hide and go seek that he had been playing
for the past couple years.

It made me jealous.

Not so jealous that I wanted to steal his shoes.
They lit up when he moved,
and that would be pretentious for an adult.

But jealous enough that I started to imagine how vicariously I would try to live through my son.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Tiny Little Marble

Welcome to A tiny little Cohenism.
A fleeting benevolence.
Here is his story...

Here I am, just a small insignificant creature on this massive spinning blue marble in space.
We call this planet earth.