Monday, May 23, 2016


one more week of hell. will i survive? can i survive? can i have the will to survive? will i have the can to survive? my babies, reality ain't a reality show...

1. hey, how you doin'? not good

2. you are given a strong but soft-to-the-touch-and-on-the-skin rope. what will you do? choose once. explain. a) throw it in the garage to use later to tie a tarp or something b) indoor rockwall climbing c) tie up your lover and have your way with him/her d) lasso your secret crush and take them with you

use it to play Clue

3. tell us 3 reasons why you or anyone should masturbate:

a) it's Masturbation Month.
b) it keeps you from spontaneously combusting.
c) imagine if cum was periwinkle-colored.

4. would you have sex with your best friend? have you had sex with a best friend in the past? how'd all that work out for ya? did you stay friends? yes. absolutely. we were friends. then we made love in a Denny's. we became best friends after that. but then we became BFFs and it got weird.

5. what are your top 5 reasons to break up with someone?: CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

bonus: post an image you find erotic. what about it arouses you? check out the Helix Nebula up there, the eye in the sky. the space sky. it just goes to show that God's a freak like everyone else. He likes to watch.


Friday, May 20, 2016


...and we're back. so you know the deal. whomever the Derby winner is i automatically take for this race cos dibs and all that. though that Cherry Wine sounds good right about now as i'm having breakfast naked on my front lawn. at 7AM. some thought sit-ups:

* if the Triple Crown is won again this year, is it actually bad for the sport?

* Nyquist. y'know, looking back, over-the-counter medication was a bad idea, huh?

* i will forever never know how to spell pharaoh ever again.

* Uncle Lino, no relation to Uncle Sigh. oh, i forgot, all horses are Princess Celestia's children.

* you don't wear hats to the Preakness. if you do, you make sure the brim is backwards.

go crazy in the comments. really.


happy weekend

Wednesday, May 18, 2016


i wake up with a thud. on my leg. lo and behold, there's a huge hairy mound of orange fur, levitating slightly. it feels so much more there now that i'm awake. up and down.

me: baby?

Trinity is rudely interrupted from his innocent dreams and quickly jumps off as if the bed's on fire. i scamper down the stairs to the hall just brimming with light and see Talia plopped down on her new resting place, by the beanbag couch keeping guard over the front door. i pick her up and kiss her head.

me: my beautiful princess.

Talia readies her hind legs and pushes her strike into my face.

Talia: i'm not a baby, amicus. you have a massive forehead. fivehead, right fratrem? or maybe it's just my perspective.

me: i know. want some orange juice?

Talia sticks out her tongue.

Talia: too bitter. i'm weaning on that messy milk fratrem distributes to me. what's it called again? Yakking?

i lower the heat and methodically blind up the curtains. i open the windows and am greeted harshly by the sound of sirens and congestion. i can never see anything in this place, the domitille to the north blocks my view of the below. so much for neighbors.

me: i guess the light's out. that blinking red is too powerful, i can see it from hilltop. poor guy picked the wrong day to live. and now he's gonna die cos the ambulance couldn't make it.

Trinity: i'll lend them the stretcher in the garage when i make my rounds.

and then Trinity does something which fascinates me to this day: he stands up on his hind legs, balances himself on his haunches, raises his paw and makes the sign of the cross on his forehead, heart, and two shoulders, his long whiskers getting in the way.

i retire to my bedroom for morning exercises and meditation. i plant my shoed toes on the edge of my new bed with the space under now and do my sit-ups. 10 in the morning, 10 in the evening when i have time. my sister crashes my door.

sister: hey, i hear grunts. you masturbating in there?

me:! you got lucky this time. i'd say don't you knock?! but it's your house.

sister: have the saws from Sciez come in?

me: but allow me to wake up first.

Trinity and Talia leap onto either shoulder of my sister and purr.

sister: well whaddaya know.

she pets them routinely and removes them from her body.

sister: alright, they're your kids. gotta go. errands the importance of which can't be stressed enough. it's wall-to-wall out there, watch out for me at an unusual time. expect the unexpected.

i casually walk to the kitchen and fry an egg.

Trinity: disappointed.

me: sorry, son, no more hardboils. just as well. my potbelly is indicating i need a cleanse.

my bare toe steps on what appears to be a tiny black plastic toy fragment. i am steamed (and steeped) and race to my sister who's frazzled conjuring up her boxes.

me: hell no, witch! what is your problem! how can you leave these choking hazards on the carpet for the cats to die on!

sister: what?! oh no, not today, not this morning, not right now, satan. those aren't mine! i outgrew playing with toys unlike others.

me: then whose is it?

sister: look. there's no time. there never is but now especially. time is running out. what are you going to do when i'm gone? how are you gonna provide for yourself? how are you gonna pay for this house?

me: i have no clue! NO MORE PRESSURE. i can't take it! i'm crazy! i have no answers! i have no idea what i am to become!

sister: you just assumed the house would be paid off and you'd stay here rent-free like a prince for life, huh? that'd be nice. i'm working on it, you ungrateful inglorious bastard. i don't have time to express what i'm living for. that is so sad.

me: throw it out the way. i am too done.

sister: make the spaghetti okay? you can boil water, i've seen you with your eggs, you care for them like they're live babies. keep your roll. if you have to use the grow box in the garage, use it to plant harmless things. there's a cute little packet of basil seeds that comes with the new bottle of Ragu Homestyle. come take a picture with me?

me: woman what drug you sippin'?

sister: fine i'll take a selfie.

me: man that's pathetic. okay fine but don't touch me and i won't smile.

i don't smile, i'm not a smiler generally, but i do relent and let my sister hug my shoulders. she winces through the pain and i just show pain. *flash*

sister: feel ya, bro, smiles should be smiles, curvatures of the lips, closed mouths. none of this open-mouth showing-of-the-teeth creepiness. goddamnit. where's the best slice? you're the local fast food expert. y'know you should somehow try to get paid for your writing.

me: Pedro's. best mexican pizza in town. pinch of garam masala makes all the difference. fine i'll do the pasta...

i check my watch

me:...on my mama. after my 3 o'clock flop.

my sister checks her watch.

sister: uh, flip flocks? don't wear flip flops in socks cos it's a bad fashion statement? lazy gen-x slacker? never agreed with that, bro, i always thought your choice to wear socks with your sandals was a stroke of pure genius. especially your dark socks. i thought you quite handsome in them.

me: it was a stroke alright.

the last sound i hear is my sister slamming the door, walking out on the portico, her steps in her brothel creepers heavy and doomful.

i notice a note by the phone. the phone rings and my heart collapses. the kitchen phone is too cool to pick up, it's an antique trimline. the note says


i look around the mansion and a keen sense of set and setting washes over me. but i'm not on anything. there's a thickness in the air. the cats have overtaken this setting. i don't know what it is anymore to live in a space without two unpredictable furry mammals moving here, there, and back again.

me: it's suffocating.....i miss being alone......but then i don't........and i know all this motion, all this activity is love. my stomach is exceedingly settled.

i'm too lenient. i let my cats taste all the food i have for lunch, let them smell all the savory odors. now it's too late. now when i have lunch, i can't eat in peace. i have to lock myself in my sister's closet. more space than mine. there, with the little light peering through the slats of the doors, i drink my Keurig soup in a teacup and notice the beige Dry on the Fly Duluth pants hanging on her hangers.

Talia howls for no reason. she lifts her leg and chews it. it's clear her nails haven't been cut in weeks. growth happens when no one's looking. Talia yawns comfortably.


at the Store:

checker: you look familiar, miss. that dude?

my sister places her sole two items, Grape-Nuts and a can of black olives, on the conveyor belt.

despite her eternal defeat at the hands of time, my sister can't help but stop and look at the blaring headlines on the cover of the reputable publication left next to Time:



i try to work on my story. but there's never enough time. i wish i had all the time in the world to polish it, to insert one more reference, to make that connection back to the first chapter stick more, to add depth and longer words. it doesn't always have to be an epic but it must be a page clicker. Trinity jumps on my desk just as i'm about to type something brilliant.

me: damn it. get off the desk! that's not the word i meant. that's not the concept. i had it, i had it in my head..............but it's gone evermore. now i'll never be rich. as i get older, i find my brain can only hold so many lists. it's either shopping or the summit. old age, attrition, and pot. but y'know hang on, that word you made me type i've never seen before. certainly funner to pronounce than the old word. yes i think i can make this work. not the direction i anticipated but the one that anticipated me. thanks, bud.

Trinity: anytime. that's what i'm here for.

i am so engrossed to my screen i don't notice my sister banging on the clear panes of the backyard slidedoors. the ones she ordered to stay locked at all times. she is shrieking and screeching and hammering but they're soundproof and the best and she always paid for quality. she would always tell me to use my money smartly, to save up for the stuff that matters, which might mean lean meals. fill your fighting machine with people, not things. i laughed off all her advice over my shoulder as i played my 8-bit games. cos i knew i'd never have any money to burn. this happened yesterday, i'm a retroist. waste not, want not, have not. now what did the ending have to have again? fuck i forgot.

me: hey Talia, jump onto daddy's lap. come on my cat. distract me with dignity, you classy dame. roar me out of my rut. i'm blocked. again.

as i think, i look directly out the window to see if any of the ants have moved from their file. i'm looking square into my sister's eyes. but i don't see her. she hangs her head in utter disappointment and her hectic hesitation turns to abject fear as she hears something in the bushes. she makes sure to drop her white bag onto the step and rushes out. following her are two large men with glasgow smiles and hatchets and machetes in either hand and surprising sprints.

i can't sleep.

me: surprise surprise. whaddaya know. she's late. she's not coming back. off to who knows where. your loss, babe, cold spaghetti is disgusting. my cute classmate tricked me into eating it once. she said cold spaghetti actually tastes good, it retains the flavor you miss in the heat. like a lovestruck fool i tried it and it was ghastly. the butter made it worse. i spit it out but my muscles were still young so i spit it back in. it tasted horrible, like a lobotimized brain. i never trusted girls again.

Talia is sleeping on the lower half of the dishwasher i forgot to load and push the button.

Talia: *with one eye open* oh amicus, didn't smell you, come in. we were just, uh, sleeping, yeah, sleeping. fratrem and i weren't hatching out details or anything, not having a secret confab, midnight meeting, heehee.

Trinity: hash. you have eggs on the brain. just the changing of the guard you witnessed, amicus, as natural as the night.

Talia closes her other eye.

Talia: don't kick me, i'll get off!

Trinity: i told you, sororis, amicus isn't like that. when he gets angry he gets thirsty. i wish he'd stop with his bottle collection and do something useful, like write about his bottle collection.

SUDDENLY a wave electric and stunning blankets the world. it's like someone out there was sick of all this foolishness and delay and wanted to write his own story. make his presence felt like a thudding machine landing on our spot.

the land betrays us.

water flowing forever

a gigantic rumble gives way to the most wretched sound of the earth ripping in half.

Monday, May 16, 2016


cos that second Being Human vampire always got overshadowed by smoldery John Mitchell. even though vampires have no shadow.

1. have you ever had bad sex? why do you think it was bad? well, only once. the cheese was a little runny but the two pepperonis were on point.

2. have you ever given bad sex? why did that happen? i told an off-color joke trying to be funny but it was offensive. it let all the air out of the room. it deflated my doll and for that i am eternally sorry. i blew her back up the next morning with some complimentary breakfast in bed. and some compliments.

3. what instantly puts you in a bad mood? when the computer doesn't work. how can i express to you how i feel about the computer not working if the computer's not working?

4. have you been hurt during a sexual activity? what was the activity? how were you hurt or injured? we were told to pretend to be an animal having sex in the wild. the babe was a bunny, the hunk was a tiger, and on my card it said Hippopotamus. that hurt my feelings. i tried the best i could but i rolled into the sharp corner of the doctor's desk. i had to watch the couple going at it as i was ordered to play Hungry Hungry Hippos in the corner as some sort of childhood regression thing. the balls joke at the end of the session didn't help. yeah i'm going to a different therapist next week.

5. during sex, what instantly turns you off? when i see my bony gyrating butt in the mirror. it's just weird.

6. bad sex---is there really such a thing? not a fan of pineapple on my pizza................oh what could have been...

BONUS: biting during sex--- a) do you like it? b) do you do it?




Friday, May 13, 2016




* only one sponsor but a good 'un

* bring back headphone hats!

* it's just ice, guys, relax.

* cooler than lord of Sith

* Satan has only a first name, too.

* there is nothing on god's green earth manlier than a Greek beard.

* predicting the Trump urinal

* Wendy Carlos was the first bae.

* i got some thick wedges in my closet.

* the shofar: the first electric guitar

* Ulf: my skinny mic is not an indication of anything but the times.

* as you can see, this is the one East German athlete who didn't juice.

* Nixon wanted to come but it was too soon.

* spoilers: the pulsating ball of pure energy is the comet in human form.

* not cool how they depicted Panos. luckily we have more medicines and sensitivity today.

* that vial of purple stuff is the comet in liquid form.

* creative boner: all i got left

* not sexist, just the way things are

* facemelting music

* Batman hadn't been invented yet.

* predicting the Trump spacepod

* we should have prayed to Lars von Trier.

* white saves the day.

* Illuminati hadn't been invented yet, those are just masks to a freaky costume party.

* no, you are not ascertaining some esoteric meaning disguised in the stars. there is no pegasus up there. you are high.

* the Star Wars medal ceremony was getting invented just around this time...

* fair offer but i'm waiting for the laserdiscs

* love has no anything.


happy weekend

Wednesday, May 11, 2016


we are creatures through and through
thoroughly dependent on kind eyes
hoping each time raising our worried face
to get the pet on our puss we rely

always naked in front of you
at the corner of your eye
we push the past aside
for this moment is all we know
we were born to be present
and a present
to unharden a soul
cry not, for we don't cry
we purr inside your hug as we jump to the sun
at the end of time you will always be our blood

me: i love flowing water. there's nothing quite like it. the sound. the sound. rush. rush. it speaks to a kind of energy not found in me. an absolute acquiescence to nature, a synergy, never stagnant, never building up, no time for reflection, always releasing, an acceptance to raise your hand up and fall. give me a roaring river over a glass lake anyday. pools get dirty. pools need chemicals. almost done in there, babe?

my sister: hair day. sorry. they say splitting bathrooms is the key to a good marriage. a lasting one anyway. yeah so the whole tub is clogged.

me: looks like you've been pulling out your hair. that can't be good.

sister: i'm okay.

but the converted bathtub shower wasn't. it was stuffed to the core. there wasn't so much a pipe there anymore as one long tangled mocha braid. we had to, well she had to call the plumbers.

me: no skin off my back. other than dead skin. i think this was where i firmly committed to the no-showers thing. too much of a pain.

it was a doozy of a deduction. in her wallet. and to think this could have all been avoided if we had an unassuming little tin metal stopper drain no bigger than a nickel (do they still mint nickels?) inserted. 5 cents (cents sign) or $5,000. your call.

me: i'm worried about you, my sis. it saves me from having to worry about myself. you ate all the hardboiled eggs last night. i had just made a fresh batch of 6. they're supposed to last the whole week. i'll gladly steam them again in the lil' ufo, i don't mind, it's the one thing i'm good at. problem is, no more eggs.

sister: gotta go. sorry, but you like going to the Store, right? there's not many people this time of week. you'll be fine. get a job. get a haircut.

me: one is never any problem, mistah sistah. you shave my head every month. i was thinking maybe change it up and leave it for once every two months? bimonthly, that's right, right? yeah just to let it breathe a little. plus it's a pain having to clean up every single stray hair afterwards, gotta get on my knees and sweep it up into my palm before the cats lick it.

sister: saves me time. now i don't have to eat breakfast the rest of the week.

me: you're missing out. on our ceremony. you should fill in. help get you closer to the cats. they are family after all. first i crack open the shell on the rim of the delftware dish. in front of Trinity by the trash can.

Trinity: i honestly can't tell which smell is worse.

me: then i wash it.

Talia: i camp out in the sink waiting for my chance to drink. my cue to dunk my head under the faucet for a nice unplanned adult beverage.

me: then i let the cats smell it. if they approve, i eat it. i think of it not so much as mixing germs as coming together. the more you get used to their essence the less wild it is. have you noticed i'm sneezing less despite my cat allergies? my love trumped, sorry, thesaurus, discomfitted my disease. my natural penchant for illness was superseded by my desire for companionship. love wins. no cat saliva's gonna interfere with my taste buds. my nature inside is bested by my nature outside. at least do the feeding of the bacon pieces to them. the cats think they're toys at first. who eats their toys? much cheaper than the cat treats.

Trinity: and much more flavorful. bacon is like all-dressed chips, so full of different textures, from the buttery meat to the clingy fat. so infused with rugged life. the treats are cookies from a cutter. you can bloat yourself on cookies full of empty sugar and fat. why gorge on a gorgeous day? it's like having to eat birthday cake everyday. sororis doesn't like eggs. yet. when you're older. i lick it up.

sister: not the centercut bacon. are you writing?

me: yes.

sister: your application?

me: so mad at myself. i scribbled my brainstorm notes on the Burger King application. i got a callback!: they told me i was overqualified. i've come to know rejection. i asked for the paper back cos bright ideas for novels don't grow on trees, the trees are for the paper. but they said they shred all their documents before the feds can intercept. meanwhile the first line of my novel is never been married, never been to prison

sister: great title. same thing. count yourself a lucky one. MEANWHILE, i'm saying meanwhile out loud for emphasis, i have to go now. i don't know when i'll be back. big job. hold down the fort for me?

me: and it is a fort. i love the insularity of the wide arching walls of your place, sis, carrying the burden of the stairs on its broad shoulders with a grand grandiloquence. i crave closed walls. sometimes i stay more than i have to in the bathroom cos i love that small space. the raging winds outside barely squeeze into the tiny marble-tinted window in the upper right, but the creeping vapor is enough to flower the smell of my shit. i can truly hide there. but it is fun whenever the noonday sun comes and i get to upper the curtains in the middle of the day and shout out, "screw you, cruel world! bye!" there's at least one yellow delivery truck of kasutera that rolls by so i'm satisfied.

sister: don't you mean lower? oh next time you see that truck tell them my delivery of rice paper is late. carry the laundry basket for me down the stairs, would ya bro? my arm is acting up again. sharp pain. must be all this cold. i'm not as strong as i used to be.

me: opposite.

sister: i'm gone.

me: don't say it like that.

and once again i'm alone in the house. but never really. when i'm alone it's too quiet. when my sister is here making girl noise it's all i can do to cover my ears and silently shout for silence. i'll do the chores after i break. i like to go outside to the backyard. not to meditate. to feel something again. i crave cold places.

me: (as i twirl around and around and around) it's a comin'. the winds are blowing angry today my friends. i know about the hysplit. that weather girl with the booty showed us her high split. i know of spaghetti models and plots. everyone is plotting against me to lose my plots. hassles are hassling my hysteria. heckling my hackles. i need some spaghetti to calm down.

me (in the laundry room): don't come in here, boy! you'll get stuck! don't come in here, girl! you'll get lost! who wears the same shirt everyday?!

Trinity: what do you expect? those are the brightest lights in the house! what's the wattage on those puppies? i go where the light is. it's not the same shirt, you washed your whites with your favorite blue shirt.

Talia jumps into the dryer as soon as i toss the dryer ball in there.

me: wanna go for a ride. i do it for the sake of sake. get it? i've never actually drunk sake, pretended in front of my anime-club friends to fit in. that was the education i took from college. funnest seven years of my life. undergraduate. changed majors. almost killed myself. everydamnbody pulling my arms and legs in all directions. at least match the arms and legs together like socks when you pull. like an obtuse octopus was i.

Trinity: come on, amicus, we don't like hearing you talk this way. and we are your family. in aqua veritas. you have to look beyond your current situation. we don't dwell on the past cos we don't. thank god we don't have to forgive. when you hold on like this, you eat a boulder.

i put myself on a clothesline by watching some tv:

me: (after Match Game) oh Debralee Scott, my first crush, my first fantasy, the one forgotten victim of 9/11. why does everyone have to comment on Tiger Woods? isn't that one Letterman wannabe with the glasses's snark enough? i mean are you really gonna get a better line about Tiger Woods from the local Wisconsin affiliate than from ESPfreakin'N? it's gonna be so sad when Bono goes. sadder than Prince. i don't want to live in a world where. anything permanent happens. i want an eternal out. you know the most beautiful instagram picture ever? woman and her greyhair? cat died and so did she. inside. blue. and so must i.

Trinity: it's gonna be okay, amicus. it's bound to happen. the Master has pledged. he's vowed. he's honored. we will rue his rumination. it will come when the countryside is lush with white dandelions. i love it when the yellow dandelions turn white, it's such a prettier side. we shall venture to a sea cave below the surface and speak with the Medici lion there guarding the well of souls. i'll take over his job as the mighty lion retires down the path of prime wine-colored Shisa to finally lick his paw wounded by a nail. he'll use his uncut nail to pull out the nail. but we'll never forget you when you're gone. how you cared for us. how you stepped outside yourself for us. you will live in the hidden places of our hearts forever.

me: (on the phone) hello LoanMe? i need to not work again. can you loan me $500,000?

LoanMe operator: how did you get this number? stop following me! two weeks is standard. i mean ain't nobody got egg and cheese here, man.

me: no? oh. well i need to get a mansion. my own mansion. can you point me in the direction of Sunny Day Real Estate? hello? Talia, stop hitting the blinds! no not again!

Talia had found her new window, the other window to the kitchen whose blinds had never been opened for fear of prying drones. but the noise was too great and i reluctantly pulled the blinds up. the cord hadn't been touched in so long it was a thousand celtic knots.

Talia: i won't rest till every hole is poked! i knew it! squirrel! squirrel!

and lo and behold there was a squirrel stationing himself on the near-collapsed partition of the fence chewing on some canna. Talia goes ballistic, bumping her tail against the glass and horning her trademark blend of gurgling meow and moaning whine.

Talia: HOOT! HOOT!

Trinity: calm yourself, young one, tis Gennady. fine fellow. wouldn't injure a fly, especially his wife, who's a fly. he's just scavenging for some grub and gathering supplies before winter, like you or me or any other being that must be hungry. you don't see, uh hear, him complaining now do you? take heed, child. head on a swivel. the outside world is rough.

so i heard every clear word of that cat conversation plain as day. but maybe i don't care anymore. maybe i'm tired. i lie down. on the grass?

Trinity: wait, amicus. raise your back. there, isn't it better with a blanket under you? more comfortable. less grassy. here, i took the liberty of getting you a Yakult from the fridge. your sister has tons of drinks lying around all over the place. much more nutrient-rich than your other messy water. hope you don't mind but i didn't cut my nails this month. such a pain. that's how i was able to open the refrigerator. here comes the airplane. now how bout we come inside.

the stuff tastes like medicine. it calms my stomach if not my heart.

the dry blanket protects me from outside moisture.

i was outside this whole time. i was watching tv through the window. good thing i didn't lower the curtain on myself. i hear a bloodcurdling scream. i know that horrible noise. i heard it once before. in the womb. when mom had me. it's the sort of thing only kin can appreciate. it's the call to family. no one else on earth would recognize nor care as much. it defines us. it's what signals the pack. it's our non-graphic identity.

the cat team half-jumps up the stairs to amicus's, uh, my room.

Trinity: quickly, kid, while amicus is distracted with twoleg matters. like i taught ya. hey girl, stop licking yourself. it's job time.

Talia: i wasn't, i'm chewing on my nails.

Trinity: sharp girl.

Talia scratches apart the casing of the socket and the two felines high-paw each other before taking that first steep jump down the tunnels.

Talia: GERONIMO!!!

Trinity: i should have been a mole. no broken bones?

Talia: no, i landed on my feet. didn't you?

Trinity: uh, moving on. ow. ouch. come on, before we both fall asleep. lesson one: survival...

i instinctually tumble down the hill like a rolling wheel of cheese.

me: ow. ouch. ow. ouch. SPLAT! broken bones? yep. well that's one way to beat the traffic to the beach.

i carry on through the pain. i have no guts, just a big gut. but this is my meal ticket i mean my sister..........i love her. she's my only other twoleg. by chance. adoption. i spy from the shore the mermaid waving to me, for the first time in her life participating in a non-sexual beckon. i leave a trail of red sand in my stumbling wake.

the lifeguard is bumbling over his words.

lifeguard: can't help you, man. it's either me or her. i know who did this. dumped like so much garbage. i'm going through a hotly contested divorce so i feel her. but i can't. it's the cartel, i mean swell! swell! swell weather we're having.

me: yes, nice and overcast and gloomy.

lifeguard: they have snipers all around. probably. i'm a dead man if i don't move. life, huh? i don't want to be called on so i keep my hand raised. look out, kid, don't step on that crab! IT'S A LAND MINE PROBABLY!

me: no don't step on that crab out of common courtesy. decency of the dominant race. which way did they go? i mean she go? nevermind i'll have to swim. i hate swimming.

lifeguard: never learned? thank you. you guys pay my salary.

me: no i can but it's such a pain. too much water in the world. and smart people say there's gonna be even more water. can't drink it all.

i find my sister floating in the dead middle of the dead sea. i race to her as fast as one can plowing the mud of the banks and set her on the dusty trail. it's that scent right as rain is about to droplet, a mix of wet grass and hot trash.

me: i'm sure the suffocating soil appreciates this but i'm not soil. y'know there comes a time. i will kiss my own sister because it's a breath of life such as my life is. it's all i can do. i'm all she has. my how the mighty tables have turned. all that stuff goes out the window when the laughter ends and the jokes are folked. life is life.

me: wow, you have auburn eyes. green like a bejeweled Egyptian cat. mane.

i guess there's a forced first time for everything.

i give my sister the heimlich maneuver too just in case. she slowly comes to as her heavy droplet-shaped eyes reemerge on the scene. she spits a gallon of water in my face.

sister: nice of you to notice. it's called hazel actually. i'm glad my death provided your breakthrough.

me: THANK god! i'm screaming but i'm also swallowing water so it's dulled. who did this to you, sis?! the rain is drowning out my vengeance.

sister: it's okay. don't worry. i expected and prepared for this. lesson. you should see the other guy. i did this for us. please say you'll do drugs. say it like you mean it. say it loud and proud.

the rain may have been the bucket my sister needed to wake up but it was causing my shredded-up ankle to sting like the motherfucking dickens, so i'm a bit delirious by this point. still my theatre training kicks it and i enunciate like there's no tomorrow. my old drama coach always had us imagine we were doing Hamlet in a hurricane. that level of projection. so with a voice equal to if not the better of the howling winds:

me: i do drugs. yes i do drugs. of course, of course i do. anything for you. anything. nothing has worked. it's the next step. enlighten mint. I DO DRUGS! I DO DRUGS!!!

Monday, May 9, 2016


1. May 9---today is National Lost Sock Memorial Day. how many single socks do you have cos the mate got lost? see: Douglas Adams. i'm as single as my mateless socks. but seriously, folks, i really do think all those socks that get lost eventually get found on Sesame Street and get turned into muppet stuffing.

2. this month is National Bike Month in the U.S. do you own a bike? when's the last time you rode your bike? i rode your mom's bike last night. no, seriously, i rode a bike that belonged to your mother, see above.

3. of course we all know it is Masturbation Month. how are you celebrating? chewing real good before swallowing

4. as a kid many of us would think out loud, "i won't ever be like my mom (dad)!" now that you are grown, what parent are you most like? not grown. disqualified.

5. if you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

BONUS: a lot of people do sexting. do you ever have sexy talk with a real phone call? do you rehearse what you are going to say or do it freestyle? no, but Commissioner Gordon calls me up on his red phone and talks dirty to me. makes me so uncomfortable some nights i haven't the will to don the cowl and leave my man cave.


Friday, May 6, 2016


HEY EVERYBODY! if you happen to be nearby, why not take in the Kentucky Derby live?! i'll join you there...if i can get a ride from my mommy. this year it's deader than normal cos it's a reset, no history to break, the burden is lifted. Starting Over, like that beautifully intimate reality rehab show that came after Oprah, remember? trade secret: there's no mint in your julep, it's just julep, you just think you're tasting mint cos you're loaded. change it up a little: have the jockeys without their horses but wearing fancy sunhats race each other in a 100-meter-dash, a nice small Olympic preview to whet our drinkatites for August. there's Kate Upton! as a biodroid i can relate to the horses: we are at the whim of our human masters. for the first time EVER i'm gonna choose my horse based solely on the name. Nyquist is the overwhelming favorite but sounds like nyquil so it conjures up bad memories. Exaggerator is your penultimate, your safe second. but i'm going with Danzing Candy cos Danzig. who ya got? folks this is the fastest two minutes other than prom you'll ever experience.


happy weekend. call your mother.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


this was a distressed neighborhood indeed, a rotten borough. there was something in the air not of man.

yes. definitely, i felt it, too. but as always in life, distractions come at right the wrong time. y'know when you come to, it's not the cute black irising you see in cartoons, you suddenly just be again. it's quite shocking actually. so who saved me from drowning?

i'm keeping my eyes closed.

male voice: stop keeping your eyes closed, this ain't a kiss!

could be a man. or a woman. or both. or neither. we are living in a strange age.

as he goes in for the kiss, i open my eyes strategically to only see the hair in his ears. and block letters THE. oh, it's the manager.

manager: you're fired.

i cough the last of my sand on a red crab (sorry about that, what you must think of humans) and collect the gold coin the crab leaves behind. since i'm free, i roam the coastal countryside looking for anything to keep me going. since i am an artist, i naturally gravitate back to the talking green face on that tree.

Green Man: mate you gotta listen, the other twolegs have forgotten how. they're too busy walking.

me: gum?

Green Man: sure, i can do one. there will be a reckoning.

me: the thing about reckonings is you're never quite sure when they'll come.

Green Man: tomorrow, Man. at least according to my time. you know your cats really talk to you, right? it's not the messy water talking.

me: no, it's the cats apparently. i always had a hunch. or a fervent wish. can people make their dreams come true?

Green Man: of course not. but illusion is needed to keep running. in reality there is no space, no line from point A to point B, it's all pointless. the beads of sweat on your forehead come from thinking too hard about it.

lifeguard: hey you! y'know you have no life skills at all whatsoever but i appreciate your humor. you have a wit about you which will guarantee you'll be clear-eyed as you watch your own doom. you didn't bring me back any mermaid tears cos you dropped them in the ocean, that's a good one. you appeared not sad about this when you returned cos you did cry but it was underwater and it's impossible to cry underwater. haha, get in my discontinued jeep.

me: only one has pulled it off, that's why Shailene Woodley is such a phenomenal actress. you're so cool it's rubbing off on me.

lifeguard: nah that's the Duluth Trading Armachillo shirt you got on.

me: oh is it? thought it was some vest new for the Rio Olympic swimmers.

lifeguard: i got an afternoon, closed the beach for mermaid sighting. where to? where's your sister i mean how's your sister?

me: what's that supposed to mean?

lifeguard: uh, BevMo!?

me: BevMo. never been there despite it being a block away from my house. never felt like home. yeah, the 1893's gotta be there! mo, that's what i need, beverage momentum.

lifeguard: take the shirt off before you enter the store, it's dripping wet. let me do the talking, i'm the adult.

me: ah, it absorbs, that's the secret.

first thing i notice is the giant exclamation point after BevMo on the sign. i take off all my clothes and enter. the automatic doors slide open just the same.

me: EXCUSE ME YOU GOT 1893?!!!

checker: bitch why you shoutin'?!!! can't you see this place is a library!


checker: oh no. you. are you stalking me? this is where i work when i've gone to lunch at the Store. speaking of...oh never mind, i don't want to acknowledge you, it gives your display power. holding down two jobs until $15.00 is passed. not a fighter but i need to survive. voting for Bernie. if i can get a ride.

me: i do like stocking. excuse me, boss, do you work here?

checker: buddy i told you we don't carry that. get outta here before i call the manager. of security. didn't you read the sign? No Shirt, No Shoes, No Cerveza

the checker reaches for his security-guard hat...

me: i did read your sign. if a place like BevMo doesn't carry this Pepsi specialty drink, what's the point of your life? for shame, sir! it's of the utmost importance i drink this drink. i simply NEED to know what it tastes like. my life will be incomplete if i don't. it will hang on my tombstone. my grave will smell of day-old kola nut. it will haunt me. literally. i cannot let this go. i saw an ad for Pepsi 1893 on tv with a very handsome man in a sharp vest pretending to be a bartender. i need it for my tongue collection.

checker: man cola commercials are getting out of hand. so you're either sick or crazy. it's good to lose every once in a while, gives you something to live for. drinks aren't that great. now food, food, food is where it's at.

me: i'm very honed it right now, mate. i'm fortified when i drink. i see clearly. every thing that happens to me is like a tick picking up the minimumest of vibration. every motion inflicted upon me, every word uttered to my neck, does NOT bounce off me for i have no butt. rather they all filter into the next scene i'm writing. in my head anyway.

i fly like a jaybird outta there, turning around to drop my final line like a hot mic which picked up too much:

me: this is NOT an exclamation establishment. i said that in my normal speaking voice to deny you an exclamation point.

my sister: where have you been, older man? thank you for dropping him off, officer.

lifeguard: just doing my job, ma'am. really quite the struggle dragging him up the stairs. i have gangly limbs you see. excuse my rays all over your face, just my bald head. that's why you should always wear sunscreen.

sister: we don't have stairs. you okay?

lifeguard: happier than ever. oh. bye.

me: loaded, but sure, sure. catching jokes.

sister: *Jenna Marbles face* of course the one time i come early you're late. listen to me. drop everything. take stock. and listen to me. look inside that white box. there's your cure.

there's a pungent odor wafting all around the mansion. it smells like cat-litter poop. turns out it's my poo from this morning. didn't stench clench, i was too late. i flushed but the stank will linger for eternity.

me: *rummaging* more pills? where do you find this stuff? haven't we been over this. Bryan Cranston has moved on and so should you. and to think we all thought he peaked on Malcolm in the Middle. i'd take a roof pizza but that's about it. i like these dark pink ones, though, they look so artificial and smuggled.

sister: it's gotta be there. there are twenty rolls all smashed into that shoebox. that's how i avoided suspicion, they were just my Imelda Marcos shoe collection. score one for girl. nevermind where i got them. i'm moving up at my job. the late nights are paying off with promotions. my position is higher and higher. take your time. we got all the time in the world. i wanna see you you again. whatever combination is the code to unlocking your potential.

me: better than swallowing them into. i worry, sis. by nature i'm a worrier and this isn't helping. the pitfalls of a big imagination.

sister: if nothing works, i'll get more. i can always get more. i'll never give up so please don't you give up...look bro, the truth is...i have a confession to boss sleeping partner is...we just sleep together, no sex...but i still get my face beat up...talkin' 'bout makeup...this is so cliche, but...i work for................where's Trinity?

me: *smiles* had me until the end. leave the drop-everything announcements to the expert in da house.

on tv:

news scroll: plan to impeach backed CNN

me: they covered a word with their CNN logo! is this still a news organization or a cooking channel?! if that word was "out" it makes all the difference.

Wolf: the following match is really scheduled for one fall as they all are per the rulebook. and now the competitors make their way into the ring for this professional wrestling match. no theatrics, no loud music, no Dee Snider freedom-of-speech screech, just two professional wrestlers in monotone red and blue singlets who enter the non-squared non-roped circle, shake hands, rub the referee's bald head for luck, and get down to business. this takes me back to my college days.

and lo and behold, the audience in the arena and at home are treated to a wrestling match that is exactly like college or Olympic wrestling but done by two people not affiliated with any university or country who are being paid.

the coach of the Raptors is being interviewed by a pretty-corageous sideline reporter:

Craig: what's going on, coach?
coach: nothing much. how are you?
Craig: i hate when people ask me that. your team?
coach: they're executing my game plan.
Craig: not now they're not. they're turning the ball over and missing their slam dunks by a mile.
coach: that's cos i'm here talking to you. my team literally cannot function without my guidance. i have to lead them at all times. if i'm gone for even a second off my spot, they completely fall apart.
Craig: don't you have an assistant coach that can take over while you're here contractually-obligated to talk with me?
coach: yes but he's Drake.

news scroll: Ohio State recruit Michigan.

me: phew! thought that was gonna be something else.

Talia: have you shown me the tunnels yet, fratrem? i forgot if you did. i'm too young.

Trinity: i think i did but maybe i just dreamt it, sororis. i'm too old to know better. i vomit for no reason. i like the change in scenery in food. my paunch is getting a paunch. whenever i go down there i immediately fall asleep cos it's so dark you can't help it. i feel safe all cramped and trapped in the tunnels. i'm sure i'll make it to the other side when i need to. instinct will take over, right? we have it easy. oh shit, amicus is coming over and you know how needy he can be. needs our full undivided attention. he loves showing off how much food he can carry in his mouth. typical mama bird. let's table this for later. for now. we'll pick it up after my third nap.

Talia: let's continue this scintillating discussion after my third nap.

me: there he is!

Talia: hey i'm here, too! i can't act cute anymore, i am cute.

sister: oh yes! before i forget, check out the box of bottles i got for you.

me: again? there's Trinity.

sister: the box of novelty bottles i ordered. i know how much you love your drinks. i miss you making castles of your used containers. it was an activity, inside but it got you out of your tower. all manner of assorted specialty soda and personal pop and fringe fizz. weird warped combinations. flavored rum and rough fruit juice and liquidated liqueur.

me: thank you, sis, i appreciate all you do for me. but there's no 1893 so there's no point. i'd rather you'd have gotten groucho glasses. or novelty slippers, at least those are useful. i'm full. i need to get outta here. it's too stuffy in here, i'm too comfortable. i need to run away to save my life.

Talia: *arches into a screeching hairball* beaglepuss! fratrem is learning me the classics.

i run to the only other place i know: the Store.

loudspeaker: california rolls aisle nine. bombay rolls aisle ten. for your fat rolls we recommend bamboo rolls aisle eleven.

i literally crash into my prayer. thought it was supposed to be the other way around. the standee knocks me from my standing position. and lo and behold, what is this standee? PEPSI 1893! standing next to a tower of beautiful long cans of special soda, both flavors, original and ginger, all sparkling like the water contained in them. riveting. i kiss the sky to dad, this was obviously his doing, and chug both varieties right then and there in the middle of the store. my tongue quickly forgets how they don't really taste any different from regular Pepsi after all.

manager: i thought i told you to...

me: it's okay, my sister used to work here.

back home, i have forgotten to eat.

sister: remember when i showed you that pyramid? the pyramid got too old so now it's a plate. circle is a more hopeful shape.

me: no, i don't know how to eat. i don't know what i should be doing from second to second. no plan. SPAGHETTI SIGNALS TYRANNY! do i eat the big salad next even if i get disrespected? then what? swallow a piece of burnt toast? with tons of butter? my heart hurts. what comes next? it could be literally anything. nobody ever taught me this stuff. someone needs to tell me what to do. do i eat this strawberry over here straight from the green basket?

sister: no, wait! wash it first.

me: *eats it* but does it really matter if i wash it? in the end? we mustn't be scared of nature. we mustn't be scared of the dirt.

i eat the calyx of the strawberry and spit it out.

me: food is complicated. so many choices, textures, shapes, and benefits. drink is easy, it's all just liquid.

Trinity and Talia curl up onto the back of my neck and lean their pusses into my face.

Trinity: got any food for us?

Talia: yeah, is that food?

me: awwww, they want kisses. *kiss you* and *kiss you*, my beautiful kitty family.

Trinity: is that food in your mouth? can i have some? just pass it down to me tongue to tongue.

Talia: food? just particalize it and blow it on my face like the female twoleg does to me when i scratch her blanket with her in it.

me: kiss? kiss?

Trinity: food?

Talia: food?

Monday, May 2, 2016


whenever you feel the odds are stacked against you, think of Leicester...

that's why cats don't brush their own teeth and have their humans do it for them.

some call it wine o'clock. i call it Tuesday.

1. do you wish every day was like Sunday? no. i hate the term Lazy Sunday (love the SNL Digital Short, though. in fact that was my very first youtube vid. ever) i don't know what that is. Sundays have been my busiest day for the past 20 years. i don't have time to breathe. why is anime only on very late at night? makes us weeaboos feel dirty.

2. why don't you like Mondays? CLICK HERE U.S. Acres, criminally-underrated show always in the fat shadow of the cat

CLICK HERE no this is why i LIKE Mondays.

3. SMTWTFS love, which is the best day for sex? CLICK HERE

4. do you look forward to Wednesday aka Hump Day? CLICK HERE 

5. Friday night and just got paid. do you get paid on Fridays? I NEVER GET PAID BUT MY BOSSES ALLOW ME OUT ONCE A WEEK TO SEE A CONCERT, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

6. what were you doing 10:15 Saturday night? sit-ups

BONUS: today in Washington, DC metro area it's another rainy day and it is Monday. what's your weather? one day we will lose the ozone layer permanently and there won't be weather. write your congressman.