Friday, March 27, 2015

PANIC FOR A MINUTE BUT PICK UP YOUR BUTTS, WE HAVE TO GET BACK TO WORK






learned:

* i cannot stress this to you enough, do NOT watch this while high, you must experience this sober for full effect. if you watch this high, all you'll see on your screen is a Tom and Jerry rerun.

* sometimes your balls are in back of you. which is to say you gain courage from your butt. like, use your ass to run away to fight another day or something.

* i really hope i'm done with all my dental stuff. i did enjoy getting sponge baths from the voluptuous nurses, but one root canal is enough. any more and the constant drilling of your teeth goes from transcenDENTAL to diminishing returns.

* so that's where that ghost from the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland ended up, i'd recognize that scarforting (scary yet comforting) face anywhere.

* the moon was made from space tears. who was crying those tears? scientists are still working that out. one thing is certain, though, it wasn't from screaming cos, y'know,

* the afterlife: a place that can only be seen without eyes. or rather, with just one eye...

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

have a restful weekend.

.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

BOSSCROSS


there is fire fire everywhere, not a drop to drink. there is no spot for green in this valley, the beleaguered villagers who have been through this so many times before always say they see spots of green but i suspect that it to calm the visitors and especially the outsiders who might perceive that the village is constantly weak and vulnerable. there are no ninjas about, only ordinary people trying to make sense of their world.

smoke is being inhaled everywhere by the villagers, it's a chaotic scene, the wind is so unfair, it never plays favorites, it can on the same day spread the seeds without a toiling human hand and spread the seeds of fiery destruction throughout that same patch of land. what were that true, but see, this isn't a random thing, this is fire wielded by the Fire Demon Himself, the same bad man who has terrorized this poor village by burning it down again and again for no apparent reason. no, for no reason whatsoever.

the smoke is not too much for Kenyatta, one of the strongest women you'll ever meet. it flits into her nostrils, thinkin' she all the same folk out here, but she's an impressive specimen, not a speciman, and her will belies her small stature. she takes it all in and doesn't budge, she continues running from shack to shack to see if anyone needs her help. around the perimeter the flames form a gate with no key.

Kenyatta stumbles onto a scared woman and her too-calm child trapped under the blisteringly burning thatch of their abode. the woman stubs Kenyatta's toe as she would have run past. a well-timed trip can sideline even an Olympic runner.

woman: help me, please PLEASE for the Gods sake, my child!

Kenyatta: shit, where did Sunsong get to? (Kenyatta's chess mind's always thinking two steps ahead) okay, grab my arm and i'll pull you guys through, you can't miss it, see that well-oiled bicep? like a well-oiled machine, always runnin', i'm always runnin'.

Kenyatta dips her arm into the fray like a superhero but even superheroes have rocks and stuff which can hamper their easy victories. there is too much rubble and rocks jamming the habitat that a small hole to freedom proves harder than first thought. and it doesn't help that the rocks are becoming as hot as the yellow sun.

Kenyatta: shit, wait here. wait, here.

Kenyatta takes off her bicep ring with tassels. see she wears this bicep ring Ultimate-Warrior-style, not the way an ordinary person would wear it with the hard-wound-together ring on the soft area where opposite the soft spot the elbow bends, no no, the ring is instead directly on top of the bicep muscle, straining it by splitting it in two. Kenyatta takes it off to reveal a red circle all around, it unfurls like a proud flag into a strong, sturdy sheet of cloth. the woman has been crazily imploring god all this time but when she sees the sheet through the ash she calms down to match her kid and a lot of the shit that's been swirling around stops flying in her area. Kenyatta lowers the cloth like a hero and it's strong enough, together with Kenyatta's internal strength and the woman's superhuman strength of willing to die in place of her child, all work together and the woman and her boy make it out alive and safe, Kenyatta's broad arms can hold two.

woman: i was delirious there for a moment.

Kenyatta rushes to find Sunsong who is back at the imperial palace not having moved a muscle, the imperial palace such that it is, it's really only another shack but in the high part of town with the other high hills, presumably to avoid the fire first. but the last shall be first, fire don't care, it spreads without discrimination, it sees only one color with different shades of red. the villagers have converged at the palace, some acting like angry revolutionaries ready to burn down the houses of the rich, some really just wanting answers and having looks in their eyes that seem full of hate but are actually full of fear.

the mob: doctor! doctor! where's the doctor!

Sunsong: i wish i knew where my husband was, he'd know what to do.

the mob: no, not bad doctor, good doctor!

Sunsong knew the witch doctor had perished when his treehouse collapsed from singed ropes. she constantly told him not to build his practice that high up in the tree, but he said he drew inspiration from being so high up from everyone else, he could see out beyond the village sky into the unending grand brand vista of a blue sky which housed other lands, other potions, other mixtures. Sunsong decided not to tell her people of the death, it would only rile up the populace more. she lied to protect them.

Sunsong: oh Yatta, my hero! get me the fuck out of here!

Kenyatta swoops in to catch Sunsong over her cradling arms and the two women rush out of the palace before it burns to the ground. seemingly satisfied, the crowd quickly disperses from the area and go tend to their more pressing familial matters at various village points.

Sunsong says, "love you!" to the crowd and waves as the two women race out of there. she means it, too.

Kenyatta: help me out here, sis. anything?

Sunsong: there's an old car in the back but it's a gas-guzzling hoopty that hasn't been used in years, it just sits there on the backlawn with the engine showing.

Kenyatta: my dear, the fact that you used the term hoopty gives me enough faith in you for a lifetime. a gift from the husband?

Sunsong: a gift to Emblem from the American ambassador.

Kenyatta: that is so perfect. let's see if the rustbucket has just enough shine.

Kenyatta tries to hotwire the car but there is enough heat in the area for the engine to start. it purrs like a kitten rather than a jungle cat but Kenyatta has faith.

Kenyatta: get in. i think this thing has just enough juice to make it a getaway car. i was thinking we'd head to the lake a few miles away, set up a bucket-collecting system to transfer the water over to the village fireman-brigade-style. i always wanted to wear the uniform, 'sbeen on my bucket list.

Sunsong: was thinking the same thing. let's go, the flames are happily dancing into all the grooves of the tire treads.

the womenfolk impressively steer around a couple of tight curves, hugging them as they hug each others' curves in the two front seats. they enter some narrow sideroads until they make it to the main highway, the main highway such that it is, it's really just a slightly-better-paved road from the no roads to the village, paved with dirt and leaves.

they pass a SLIPPERY WHEN WET sign and have a laugh together.

Sunsong turns on the radio.

Kenyatta: good, you're radioing for your husband to send help immediately, right? call in the national guard or something, send troops over, peacekeepers, whomever's qualified, we need all the manpower we can get, men and women.

Sunsong: i'm afraid Emblem doesn't have that kind of pull. he's the village head sure, but i've found that village heads like to pretend that their village is the only thing on earth.

Kenyatta: come on, man, i know you live in a remote place but every place is still part of a bigger place, the state. surely the state has resources hoarded up in the real imperial palace.

instead,

THIS SONG COMES ON THE RADIO, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

Kenyatta: we'll figure something out as we always do. i'll build a smokescreen to signal any of the village survivors to come to the lake. it's on foot so it'll take days if not weeks but at least they'll be going away from the fire and to a place where they'll eventually help their village back. the bucket line will be long, it has to be, long, strong, and proud. once we get there, once it's fully formed between the lake and the village, nobody can say it wasn't a group effort. we're only as strong as our weakest link which in this case will be us from all the managing.

Sunsong stays silent throughout, waiting for the speech to become a soliloquy, her eyes circled with ash. she's become the raccoon.

Kenyatta with her tassels has become the eagle. the two creatures streak across the road that is so filled with smoke that they are driving on a black that is not pavement. not a spot to see anything in sight. they move on forward with faith.

the scenicless scenic route gives Kenyatta time to think. she lets Sunsong take the wheel as she grabs herself into the passengers side. she always loved being driven when she was a little girl, the low rumble of the engine under her carpet, the fact that she didn't have to do anything but close her eyes and imagine she was traveling on a carpet, flying anywhere, everywhere, on wings of Tyre.

Kenyatta: i sense something. this isn't the end of it nor the beginning. this is part of a bigger picture, a broader scope, somebody is tipping things on a certain scale to achieve something no human has ever accomplished before, a new source of power is emerging, and it's uncontrollable because its essence springs from life which is essentially uncontrollable, a new thought, and humanity will never be the same. but there is one way to combat this, this inevitable inertia, and it's the very old humanity within us, it's amazing how much the ancient has always to teach us. i see spots of humanity scattered throughout here, even in this place, even in this time of agitation, little strokes of grounded humanness and help and spirit and yes, happiness. i see how you work that clutch and it makes me smile, my Sunsong. i don't know why i'm telling you this, it's just coming to me, i see it, i'm thinking of my mother right now. how she always used to cradle me in her arms at night. she had her bone china teacup of black coffee steaming by her side as she told me stories of carpet rides. i took a sip once and gasped at how bitter it was, it was disgusting and i would never touch the stuff again. now i'm a caffiend, i'm an addict, a hoarder, it's my fuel, my spinach. now i see my elderly mother grapple with the foam powder packet to her cappuccino and i have to laugh. with her. "newfangled coffee, back in my day we just had coffee, none of this fancy european shit i can't even pronounce!" she's sure to say on cue. i was just thinking of my mother right now.

a figure slowly breaches the flames in front of the ladies, parting them. he is dark at first but the flames to his side slowly illuminate and lick his broader outline. he has broad shoulders but no face. yet. he is still far away but not so far away that he can't say something clearly. his voice is as it turns out rather softspoken for the occasion, seemingly. he addresses the women with a strong dialect that is the most blended mix of worldly accents of all time. he says, he says,

"it's me...yes, your fire demon whatever...i hate that fire demon thing, my name is Manny Herrero Boxt."

he has one dragon's wing coming out of his forehead.

.











Monday, March 23, 2015

TMIT: STOWAWAY OF MY HEART







Fabio is not merely my spirit animal, he is my best friend. we're cockpit brothers. ride or fly. #dead. he does this thing where he churns his milk, it's unbelievable what he produces, i eat it all up and i still don't believe it.

1. you are to organize a sex 'n' kink weekend. are you more the "hands on" guy or the "ideas" man? i like to get my hands dirty.

2. you are to "play" with a m/f couple in a tent. are you the "need clear instructions" guy or the "i'll work it out my way" man? they didn't call me Sinatra in college for nothing. i had as many nicknames in college as classes i attended. i was also known around campus as Ceiling Cock. don't want to go through that again, can we cool it with the tent ceiling fans, guys?

3. true or false: during sex, i like to hear and accept feedback. AND, any voice that isn't one of my own is a pleasant one. on the other dirty hand, they're telling me not to trust you, only they know what's best for me.

4. what are you wearing right now? butter

5. i show loyalty to my lover by_____ never imagining that i'm fucking someone else while we're fucking. although full disclosure i have thought of Fabio but that's just a natural thing.

6. do you always have to argue? let's not start this again.

bonus: turn to page 55 of the book nearest you right now this second. what is the first line on that page? y'know the ending of Lost? that wasn't Heaven, that was Hell.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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Friday, March 20, 2015

CERTAINTY PRINCIPLE







MY BABIES, FIRST CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

THEN please answer the following questions in the comments:

1. think back on your life and name a time when you accomplished something on the first try.

thank you, happy weekend, don't answer the one who knocks if it's the 31st minute...

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Wednesday, March 18, 2015

GLOBE OF SHOOTING OUT MAD ELECTRICITY


aboard a James Cameronesque experimental water vessel that seems like an Avatar but runs like a dream handler.

Imzhan is sound asleep, snoring.

Codrus (boot on his neck): wake up, the world's oyster is cracking. row row fight the power. just kidding, no need for either oar, this boat runs on dream.

Imzhan (disturbed): steam? punk? have a steaming cup of shut the fuck up. you shouldn't have made me angry. you should let men sleep, they have a damn good excuse to, i don't get enough sleep, never have. i gave up a lot to be with you on this goose chase. i'm here in part cos despite everything you do to me, like mushroom-stamp my forehead, i like you, goddammit, don't know why. part of it is i think you'll fail and i'll take a special Glee in watching that live, the L symbol on the forehead. no offense, but i assume if i can take you at your warts, then...

Codrus (laughs innocently): thanks for the laugh, it pierced me like a single massive drill. i needed that. seems the roles are reversed today, i am of the waves and you are waterlogged. my bed was made of fluffy hay, yours of nothing but the wind direction.

Imzhan: i gave up my family for you. i don't believe in any of this but you do, so the fascination lingers and is maintained. the last time we were all huddled in that crowded house of Burning i was screaming at the top of my esophagus cos the cats had gone missing running around on lost paws and no time to pause and my old wife was proving nagging isn't just an old wife's tale. i hated being there and needed to escape, needed, not wanted mind you. one is a rich man's folly, the other is human-blood-coated dna for dad. i remember when the bridge snapped, it's unfortunately the only thing i do remember:

          *tab*                 do you know how frightening it was to see the cats roaming outside free? i yelled at her with all my guts little pieces of flesh in the bamboo roof of my mouth flew like a flag how could you? are you senile or something? oh right yes you are you're fucking old that's the problem too many things to go to too many things scheduled to distract you from realizing it all means nothing a type of busying buzzing stopgap to keep you and me your flesh and bone along with you from the edge of the existentialist void how could you leave the screen open? see it doesn't matter who wins even by a slim margin even by banking to the right taking the road less traveled it doesn't make a difference there will be the next terrorism in the halls of learning in a Tunisian museum where the shelves are for displays not displays. i have not love in my life only bills and my pet bird Responsibility has grown up and become a vulture picking at my senses slowly until my boner became my bones. went to the store and the same tired folks are there the sideward mobility that requires Sideways wine the jolly old short man who doesn't need to troll cos he looks like a troll who yells Good Morning like Uncle Grandpa to every customer in line disgruntled or not before checking their foods and checking their moods. don't test me pops i'm not in the mood. how am i? that's a loaded question. and the answer is loaded with different degrees of freight weight depending on the meaning of loaded. got only Happy Eggs but they didn't make me happy i sensed there was something decidedly unhappy about how they treated their chickens chicks the world over are becoming second-class citizens nobody checks anymore they are fatted with the fatted calf and too lazy to research they would rather believe the quick lie, the fast li(f)e i am so tired i can't think i need to leave i need to get the hell outta here it's suffocating me there is so much air here it condenses into a little ball and explodes into a firework of electricity you caused me great pain on this day thanks for your gift on my birthday you hurt my pump of blood rubbing it with alcohol get this through your old head oldhead i love those cats more than i'll ever love you, Do i make myself crystal clear? do i make myself diamond clear? unforgivable!!! Unforgiven!

Codrus: sheesh man. you need to cool off my friend.

Imzhan: oh no, i'm done with your drugs a'sundry, anything is pozible with patchouli, you've addicted me enough with your all-encompassings.

Codrus reaches into the salt water with his hand and splashes some on Imzhan's face.

Codrus: i meant literally.

Imzhan: i get angry and i can't control it, it's a plasma globe of bad green energy that fills the soul with bad juju soul music, black magic and black soot that i would in one stroke abandon all the people that have propped me up to be a person. i create a Monster. hurting your own familial bond is a sin, you are literally hurting yourself, the person you literally are. when the silent treatment becomes permanent silence, it's a quite scary persona.

Codrus: scary for me, too, but i've learned to see the long con. i see things from a mountaintop, i see the strand of energy from above with an eagle eye and imagine how it can be harnessed to produce the one thing humanity has never had: an alternative. the work is slow and overbearing but the sickly ocean spray gives you a distraction. i've been watching on the internet videos about the Slow Movement. that's what we need: periodicals that print out only once every three months so we can digest the news into our stomach with context not text-speed, it's not about who's first to the scene of the story but who crafts the best story. slow food, you get your salad one day and your meatballs the next. slow schedule, work when you want from home, the trope of the maddening boss is obsolete, make room for a siesta. all until the party when we find the completed stone tab and push tab and link everyone in the world with an internet video which will unite everyone under me, the one in electrical charge. i'll drink to that.

Imzhan: don't say Tab. i hate Tab. actually it's my favorite drink but i hate when you say Tab. i'd as soon drink saltwater to match my mood. i hate everyone on the internet, all those youtube personalities are pure junk in the digital stream.

Codrus: your mood is streaming into your personality but that's what happens. all art eventually becomes content. i'm trying to make my videos good. i look into the future and the present for past tenets. pirates then and now, men and djs with guns, white aliens. Tennant isn't fiction if you project the show's projects. there's a lot of anger out there, people are Breaking Indifferent, they can't take the constant drumbeat of the conundrum, they are sick of following rules which are as slippery as slick spaghetti. you cook spaghetti in water but you should never wash it or you'll drown it. if it sticks to the wall it's good enough. i imagine my navy vehicles like a Tron Riverbike with a hole in it to put the energy source, a plasma lamp, a sparkly plasma ball of fun, unlimited from the Earth's very core, the World's Personality. science stops being cool when you see the plasma globe collecting dust in a museum display, science is only fun when you really fucking use it, utilize it, make it your breath, turn it into applied science, technology, that word tech is so coldly precise, so computerized to do my bidding, it's a joy to pronounce and say, tech, tech, hardware, power to mobilize, start, run, to not run away anymore, plasma, the very blood that coats our way.

Imzhan: i mean if that bitch wants to call the cops, let her, Family Matters ain't no sitcom, it's real fucking life, not reality tv, life's hard, you have to make choices, sometimes you end up hurting your loved ones rather than your enemies, i always found that quite strange..........yeah, you go ahead, you wizened dried-up old cunt.

Codrus: so i think you're talking about your nosy neighbor trope? not your mom or wife?

Imzhan: she's all the same woman in the end, same person in general. i'm not a people, i'm dead. another good man forced to wear the black hat instead of the guayabera of a liberated Cuba. i never asked to be LeBron James in that first year in Little Havana. my little friend doesn't say hello anymore so i count on you, my little friend, to help me see past the pressures of life which go too far and crack the diamond.

Codrus: when i was young and angsty i donned a black shirt and cap and fashioned myself a dark poet, i would be remembered as the boy who lived in that ghastly rich city but could never be happy there or anywhere, i would stroll the edge of the beach alone not caring if the waves were to swallow me up, writing emo poetry on an exposed boulder. i wanted to be remembered that way, i never actually did those things, just crafting that persona took up all my time.

Imzhan: this garish technological marvel of a raft is a floating bamboo house, i'm motorboating it up. but bamboo works both ways, it is sturdy underroof but its sturdiness makes it the perfect weapon under

FINGERNAILS, CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

Imzhan spastically addresses his growing stubble and picks out small coffee grounds from it. he tries to cry but it comes out fake, Imzhan realizes anything he utters in a spontaneous gust couldn't possibly represent his tortured inner feelings of disillusionment, abandonment, self-abandonment, confusion, and a yearning for something that doesn't exist, there's a word for that, it's Gaelic or Welsh, not quite hiraeth but close, English, for all that English covers and colors, it still hasn't caught up to that feeling yet.

Imzhan: i'm ready to join Scientology. i want the answers. i want to go to group not for therapy but for the group itself, to be in a group is enough. i need to start seeing my second family, somwhere along the way i grew tired of my family.

Codrus: they grew tired of you, any pangs of love you had shared dissipated in the continuing going to work every day at a dead-end french-fry Mickey-Mouse job. it's understandable, everyone gets tired and needs to sleep. i feel the world exploding but not from the core, rather on the overheated surface full of too many people who're ready to crack like an endless New England nor'easter. even familial bonds are dissolving, kids leave their yuppie parents to join strange lands and strange organizations because they are precisely strange and new. Anarchist Organization is an oxymoron. the old ways are becoming older faster in this godforsaken internet age, it's time to believe in a slow god again godspeed. when i see the headline of NEW TECH on the cover of my defunct newspaper, i gravitate not toward the word TECH but to the word NEW.

Imzhan: i am your friend you know, till the end. that could mean me killing you but i do it out of love. you might get out of hand and only i have the kryptonite in my Batcave. i haven't lost my curiosity, that's what keeps humans going, not love or sex, curiosity to see if the latest thing will fail, i want to see where this leads, leader.

Codrus: currently however many knots starboard! to the stars my naughty marine! exploration is done by dirty men with dirty ideas and dirty intentions, they're the ones who get their hands dirty. this isn't noughts and crosses, this is to counter the nihilism of winning by drawing a line through, this is for a cross that cannot be crossed off, one fashioned not in amber but in adamantium.

Imzhan stays prostrate but looks upside-down past the bow of the whatever-it-is that keeps them afloat.

Imzhan: i don't need no mountain. my eyes are clearer now, i needed real salt water, not tears. i do see a couple of beige specks but it could be a big tease and not the closing wreckage. it's amazing how we search for one tragedy only to find the tragedy nobody cares about: ocean trash.

Imzhan lets out a huge fart that smells of meatballs.

Codrus: thank you, i smelt each ingredient down to the tarragon.

Imzhan: that's the sign of a good digestion, properly allowing the esophagus to read each section of the meal in context and deliver a verdict that rings loud and clear. only slow-eaters who have studied this for years would understand.

Codrus spies the debris hurrying not to get caught hiding in whirlpools, 3 of the 4 try to disappear with their secrets below the narutos. for once a thing loses its secrets, it ceases to be a thing. the airplane seat cushion, the paper carton still full of milk, and the plastic 6-pack ring still uncut. still denotes a little faith in humanity still. secrets that could alleviate pain are especially hard to track down, for once the truth is known, no alternate theories can ever be formed, and it all dies. Imzhan is doing more than shielding the sun from his eyes with his hands as he tries to get back to sleep, he's covering his eyes from the world.

Imzhan: too late, the moment's gone, no respite, no sweet dream to be had, what could have been, thanks obama, thanks world order, i'm up now, i'm up.

Codrus whips to the piece of swimming boulder on his whip that no one else has, with the buttons that no one else has, he gets to it faster than anyone else. could. he's first. he's first to the scene.

Codrus: sheesh man, okay, i get it, next time i'll let you get napped.

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Monday, March 16, 2015

TMIT: PATTIES DIPPED IN SAUCE






1. you found your pot o' gold. how much is in the pot? what will you do with your gold? two bits. put it all into bitcoin.

2. some things get better with age. have you? what specifically? length: 3 feet, width: half a foot.

3. are you above average or below average? above average in height. i'm tall and dark.

4. what was the last romantic act you did for someone? did they appreciate it? i was all set to go to boring Harvard and become another lawyer. then i saw her poofy hair in the cafeteria and it was love at first sight as she lunged in to take a bite of her sexy chicken sandwich. i was having the manly chicken salad. i asked her if she wanted to be my chicken salad sandwich for life. she was going to Yale so i bit the bullet of tradition and transferred to the enemy school right then right there on the spot for love. restraining order later, i tried to text her about the plot of that show Felicity but she said she was into girls with Rachel Cut hair instead.

5. think back to your very last argument. whose fault was it? i'm not into assigning blame, it's nobody's fault, i don't let anything disrupt my Steven Universe funky flow...i have a lot of time now to watch shows...

bonus: i have an overactive______ bladder.........no............sorry.........that was just my imagination.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

/

Friday, March 13, 2015

FINGER THIS SPACE


this needs to happen. i don't know if this pilot has since been picked up, but i need to see all 38 episodes from all 3 seasons on SyFy Network, including the strike-shortened one, and the made-for-tv special which concluded the series properly and assuaged the irrational fans till the next con after it was prematurely canceled.

learned:

* if this is crazy, baby, i don't wanna be sane. insanity is nature's 40 malt liquor.

* there are beings that don't know the difference between right and wrong...

* Southern lawyer trope even in space

* so close, the judge was almost Solomon there.

* sphincter is not funny, we all have them, they're necessary, i'm picturing my sphincter right now. okay, pronouncing it may be a little funny, but sphincter is not funny.

* would you fuck a hot alien babe if her name was Diet Coke? i would, i'm not into labels.

* people can't date humans.

* do you know what 7th Base is? the rusty venture but fully clothed.

* is a friend who kills a friend still a friend? Naruto and Sasuke would like to talk with you.

* i have always gotten to things late. by the time i make it to the underground, it's full and aboveground. when i was into Star Trek: TNG, the indies were into Babylon 5. before i had time to switch, the indie indies were quietly whispering about how Farscape had all the hip lingo. and then there's Lexx. nobody has ever cared about Lexx. is Sliders on DVD yet?

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

CLICK HERE FOR A BTS.

CLICK HERE FOR HOW THEY BUILT THE SPACESHIP FOR THE SHOW AND WHY YOU SAW ALL THOSE UFOS IN THE SKY AS A KID. I'M LOOKING SQUARELY AT YOU, FOX MULDER AND JOSE CHUNG.

CLICK HERE FOR A GENERAL MEDITATION ON STRIVING TO BEAT YOUR HERO DESPITE BEING A NOBODY IN THE WORLD.

happy weekend. hi, i'm high.

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Wednesday, March 11, 2015

MAINLY


Cotard: taking a shower here isn't the same like in the monastery. there was a unique quiet when you showered there, you were alone, the lights shone hazy like in a prison, the soap always had a brown corner, but you knew this was a time for contemplation, and this was a good time to have with yourself, it was needed as a break from the unusual bustle, you could think, and you knew it was just a break, soon you would be joining the others. everything in its right place. here it's a little too much sanctuary, it's more like solitary confinement, i'm out in the boonies, not the wilderness, not a soul to save in sight, everyone has stopped believing, they believe in more mundane things now, and the shapes in the sky turn into clouds and spill their holy water of life as if to say they're starting over in this area, back to the stone ages to see if they can gin up some human excitement again. anything, a fire, some sign of nascent human civilization forming anew, activity. as you can see, i'm trying to align the drops of my single lead-glazed earthenware stall with the steady drumbeat of the rain, to achieve some sort of something, but i can't concentrate, feelings intrude where they're not welcome, i'm distracted by the reeds swaying forth and back with the storm, see that? it's a small bathroom window i know, but it has a dotted screen so you can really focus on a subject. excuse me.

thanks for waiting. just went outside to break off this huge reed, i'm gonna fashion it into something for me later. not as wet as i would have hoped but cold as fuck. this robe isn't what it seems, it's thin material, doesn't protect, doesn't cover up. i'm not ashamed of my body, wish the window was bigger, screenless, let the people see my naked body, it is not anything to be ashamed of, why it's a sin to think such a thing, this is the very vessel of Creation.

like that feeling, i don't know how to describe it, but it's there, it's after a big artistic explosion where you really delivered the message you wanted, a painting or a sculpture you bought, a thunderous speech, an acting job in front of your friends at a cafe, these leave you feeling you are somebody, you said something important, you directed the conversation your way for a moment. but inevitably it fades and you're looking for the next high. you can't be yourself silently alone, you need some agitation again, some interaction, they shape your identity, hell may be other people, but loneliness is purgatory.

things aren't quite right in my brain, i don't feel good about myself, it's an amorphous solid feeling, did i make the right career choice? how long can i last? without my next friend? i wonder how people i haven't spoke to in a while are doing? i wonder what the news of the day is? i really should see the dentist for the vein popping out of my gums but it doesn't hurt now, the cold is good for that.

IT'S A FEELING OF JARRING YOU WANT TO ALIGN CORRECTLY TO FEEL NOT SO MUDDIED AGAIN, THE VOICE IS RECOGNIZABLE BUT THE BEATS ARE OUT-OF-SYNC, THE RHYTHM IS WEIRD, THE SOUND IS OFF, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

excuse me.

well speak of the devil! that was Brother Wax on the phone. i had been wanting this ever since i took his cats. he left me the sweetest note upon initial notice explaining that he forgave me and he knew i needed them more than he needed them, he had someone. i swear you can never rattle ol' Wax! i felt so guilty and guiltier when i realized just how nice of a person Wax was and is. you don't see that in this world anymore. he didn't need to say anything, just the sound of his warm voice put me at ease in that moment. haha, his second letter to me was actually instructions on how to take care of the cats, the right temperature and grade of milk, which toys the little one likes that drives the big one crazy, wish he would have advised me of the latest toy i bought the little one, am open-air circular tube with a fuzzy mouse on it to spin around. kitty pawed at the mouse, realized it wasn't real, and abandoned it the same day.

oh Wax, the memories. the meddlesome memories which have since been sifted out to leave only the gleamingest diamond. the layers of being alone, you miss each successive successful layer peeled off when you engage in an engageless solitary life. flower petals fallen, he loves me, he not. i miss your letters to me, the two epistles, wish there were more for me to hold in my hand, the voice goes fast, but i know you're busy with life.

excuse me.

i got a package at my door, wanted to talk more to the man after i signed the magic tablet with the magic pen but he seemed in a rush. i could only see his eyes framed by the scarf on his face but that framing made his eyes stand out more. he was busy, wanting to get out of the rain. he slipped on the huge slick sleet patch that lines the walkway, that really pissed him off. i scissored it and opened up an urgent notice. there was a helicopter crash, then another one, and i am called to pray dutifully for their souls. i need to arrange a full ceremony at city hall immediately. i am to bring the donuts to the prayer service. excuse me, gotta run.

i tripped on my own sandals lying out in the center aisle. i need to save time but going barefoot everywhere is not doing me any favors. what else do i need to do? my mind is frazzled. i have my robe on, do i need underwear, too? holy water, better lug a barrel to my pickup-truck bed, only time a bed of mine sees action. you can never have too much holy water for any occasion. tap dat ass of the barrel. damn, the spouts have no caps, but a little salt water mixed in the holy water will give it character. there is no purity really.

wait, in all the confusion, in the rush, i'm reminding myself i better take a shower. i'm meeting people this time, mourners, serious folk with stern faces, i need to be presentable and represent the Vatican in the best light. maybe something else will happen to steer me.

i knew it, fortuitous happenstance. unexpected mood whiplash. i got a skype from Atalan, he just called to tell me about his day and the fires he's trying to put out half a world away. i love when people do that for no reason, just call to check in, it's human. he told me the website now has a substantial number of hits to save it from being autodeleted and the comments are more good than bad so live and let live. i agree, the trolls add ad revenue, too. this calls for a celebration!

it's no secret, well it's a hidden stash in my bathroom, it's a secret only because nobody is ever in here with me at the same time i'm in here. not an altar-wine-drinker. here's my case of 40s, malt liquor is my not-so-secret-anymore vice. brought over from my college days, one drop of this amber nectar and it's like you're drinking the food of the gods.

Cotard pours out the entire contents of a 40 bottle down the drain. he pours another one onto his body. a voice from the top frame of the foggy bathroom mirror asks Cotard, "Alex, do you believe in God?" Cotard brushes the voice away with his hand and murmurs, "not now."

Cotard: shit, sticky. i thought a beer shower would be cool. like they do with sports. they put sugar in this now? i'm gonna have to take a shower.

Cotard gets on his knees and licks the bottom of the shower stall of beer before he hits his head on the drain.

Cotard: mi cuerpo. et vivere, reservate. ...coincidence... enemy action.





Monday, March 9, 2015

TMIT: RIGHT SWIPE LEFT SHARK










learned:

*CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

learned:

* this commercial played so much it made me nervous. incessantly at every break. i started smoking again.

* reaffirmation of how much i love pancakes

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

this is the story of a little boy lost in the world who knew only one thing: he loved pancakes. only pancakes would give him the gleam in his unknowing smile. it was unconscious. pictured above. he grew up in this world without syrup, slowly his sweetness turned to sourberry. he first experimented in college at a foam party. pictured above. he was too innocent for the world's vice. he just used the bubbles to get clean. later he met his wife and that love was pure. he loved her harder than diamond which he couldn't afford, deeper than the sea. the very thrust of his life had set, was hardened and in place. pictured above, both pictures. then he won the lottery. pictured above, there's the boy lost in the crowd. it was the wrong house, next house over, so he didn't get the money but he met some cool folks during the experience and went on to become one of well-dressed greeters who awards the money to folk in large checks. one day he shook the hand of Glenn who was happy for the money but knew mo money mo problems so Glenn politely declined the check. the manboy went for the brofist but Glenn brushed the side of the fist with his pinkie instead. dejected, the manboy turned around, walked off from Glenn by sunset and spent his unexpected ill-gotten gains check on pancakes but they didn't taste right, too starchy. the manboy decided that life was too complicated so he went back to being simple and alone and quiet with his modest stack of three pancakes. sirens blared, the cops came in to the international house but they passed the boy's booth.

1. spring vacation this year? where? yes. to learn where all the foam gets made.

springtime love
2. do you become friskier as the temperature outside heats up? like a squirrel rummaging through trash bags.
3. do you flirt more in the spring? i can't help it, spring has sprung, my penis has sprung, my boner makes a noise, time to fertilize the flowers.
4. do you dress sexier in the spring? if by sexier you mean bikinis, then yes.
5. what day of the week do you fuck most often? Sundays, the holy day, i never can have a Lazy Sunday like everyone else cos i'm always busy with busywork...oh i thought you meant get fucked the most often.

falling in love takes 1/5 of a second.

6. do you use kissing as an important barometer to test out a new mate? good kissers: survive and move on, bad kissers: prune and dump. i've gotten dumped then pruned before. no, i'm not like that cos what if my special someone just doesn't have the experience to be a righteous kisser yet. there is more than kissing to show affection, you can touch bellies.

7. what do you expect from marriage? a) safety/solidarity/security b) journey towards self/fulfillment/actualization with a partner that gets you. my partner gets me...a calendar every year so we can fill out all of the exciting activities we're gonna do together in the coming year for our business. love is serious business, i want a partner to grow old with, we'll be arguing like an old married monk couple, she'll say it's my turn to wash the one loincloth we share and i'll tenderly pick the nits from her beard.

8. acts of love & kindness. which would mean more to you?
a) taking to your partner a cup of tea (or receiving said tea)
b) giving/receiving chocolates box/flowers
i feed my lover each sip of iced tea, i spoon it up from the teacup and blow on it before i pour the spoonful on her tongue.

bonus: in your late teens/early 20s did you take wild spring-break vacations with friends? what is the wildest, craziest, sexiest thing you did on a *gone wild* spring break? i yearned to have a spring break like the ones i saw on MTV. it finally happened that year, i went to the foam factory and everything in preparation, it was gonna be the wildest, but the guy Joe that was supposed to be our contact got arrested.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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Friday, March 6, 2015

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, MEMENTO MORI


no, it's later this month, but i decided for a preemptive strike before Google trolls me again. in honor of the seminal Happy Birthday Song episode of Regular Show, i was lost and found this SNL skit which addressed the same topic. one year wiser, one year closer to the truth, same ol' same ol' song.

learned:

* who's the cute redhead?

* yes it does look familiar, it's the page bowl cut i wore in college. they said i couldn't be in the Medieval Club without wearing and maintaining it all the time. i kept asking the seniors if the hazing period was over but they kept talkin' 'bout historical accuracy.

* hey i know those snakes and purple robes! it's the Oakland, CA chapter of the Illuminati! those guys really get down! Raiders 4 LYF! no wait, it's the Amish chapter! those guys really get Dutch down at night in Pennsylvania!

* not all witches are witches, but your mother is a crone. that hurts more than the army boots thing.

* i was born of man.

* that's distracting, should have had the cue cards on the mirror, won't have to look away if the lines are memorized. why aren't the lines just always memorized? i know why, but still.

* Eternity cannot be embodied, for the embodiment itself, the something, would have to be apart from eternity, the everything. it's like Kanna from Inuyasha who represents Nothing. poor girl.

* nightmare trees. like, bad pot?

CLICK HERE FOR THE SKIT

OR CLICK HERE FOR JUST THE AUDIO

happy weekend. don't let The Man get/keep/bring you down, and i say this as A Man.

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