Wednesday, March 30, 2016


amicus, amicus...

my house was not a home. not yet. it was an apartment. it was being rearranged, transfigured, suited to Trinity's long stride and swinging tail and ferocious bite. i could never scold an animal, those huge teeth are put there by god for a reason, they need to protect themselves from horrible humans. monk knows what he endured from his previous owner that he ended up in the shelter. for the first couple of days we were both on edge, sniffing each other out, unsure of the future. but this was a brave new uncertainty. i was dealing with a real animal this time, a wild tiger, albeit a baby, a large baby, not your usual kittens in mittens. i was delightfully distracted. not my baselevel dour. i was fucking happy.

i would add those complicated mazes of carpeted tubes on tops of my ceilings you see on tv if i could. if i had the money. the idea just came to me when i woke one morn to find my couch completely shredded apart. poofs of the couch's insides everywhere, outside. wheat meat. i also decided right then and there to set up a schedule for trimming his claws. every month. or every three months or something, whenever. i knew i had to cut his razorsharp nails but how the hell was that gonna happen? we weren't buddy-buddy like that that i could just stroll up to my fur bro with a shiny metal instrument.

it's a shock to the system when your body wakes you up violently at 6AM whether you like it or not. you want nothing more than to remain in the repose of unconscious slumber forever but a switch in your brain reboots your eyes and shakes your senses and suddenly you're tasting the drool puddle on your pillow. god's infinite wisdom. that's the shock. turning your head and getting blasted with the unmistakable foul stench of cat poo hitting your nostrils isn't the shock. well tiny one, each cat's poo has its own distinctive scent. like perfume. i hadn't cleaned a litter box in so long the muscles i normally use to spread the scoop were atrophied from disuse. it was 24 hours or so since Kiss had died after all. the litterbox was in for a shock, it wasn't used to a different kind of poo invading its pristine sand. i tell ya, it felt so good to roll out a clear plastic bag from Costco again, rip it on the perforation, and whoosh it up and down to open it. that's my kind of dotted line.

and whoosh it

whoosh it?

not opening. needs moisture. just add water. need to damp the beds of your forefinger and thumb and gently rustle the bag till the line becomes a circle. with that i violently open the bag and whoosh it up and down in the center of my kitchen! and i feel a whoosh race by me. the cat is scared and runs for cover in a corner, the first one he can squeeze into. more importantly, the cat is here!

me: Trinity! you were hiding behind the bin. you were gone for a long time. oh, this? it's just a bag. you want clean poop don't ya? well i gotta do this. every time. each morning. i do it in the morning cos i'd forget later on. i'm too busy with whatever it is i do all day. i don't eat till you eat, see? i feed you and drink you and change your litter first, then i eat breakfast, that way i earn my eat. gotta pay my way somehow.

i never did learn to see the bag thing from the cat's perspective. i did the same exact thing every morning, scared to forget, following the pattern, the same routine every morning. it was hardwired into my brain. when you have no one else around to change your programming...human else anyway. eh, human folly.

it was quite the guessing game those first few days. but i was happy. i had all the time in the world. it was just me and my bed. i slept in. i had no appointments cos i didn't make any. why audition today when i could get rejected tomorrow. i turned my head to the wall when i slept, didn't want to get my eyes scratched out, just in case my shaky son decided to jump me again in the middle of the night whilst i'm dreaming vulnerably. family, amirite? nah, he doesn't sleep with me, not that i can ever feel, he sleeps in the corner or somewhere poor thing. i bought a fluffy cat bed he never uses. gotta change my thinking, shoulda went for the refined adult cat bed with the streamlined corinthian faux leather, not the one with the Garfield stickers. it's too dark to see.

i woke up. damn. stay woke. but i awoke with a pain in my tooth. no, not again. i will not go back to the dentist no matter what my sister says. no matter how fine the assistants are. i don't have the money, that's a damn fine excuse. i don't have the time, gotta care for my pet always. it wasn't the root this time,   it was the gum. i landed an Olive Garden crouton at just the wrong angle, split my tooth awkwardly. a few Vanquish should quell it without a refinancing. with plenty of water, that's the most important thing. i really need to set aside time to eat. they really should make those croutons smaller.

Trinity is smiling at me! no, he's yawning. i see his saber-tooth teeth really for the first time glistening against the pane of my window. golden rays of light give him his first shower. phone knocks. it's my, wait, gotta put you on hold, there's a ring at the door.

me in my slumpy pajamas: yes?

man: top o' the morning to you, fine sir. how'd you sleep? Longleat here, oldest in the globe. we have the longest cats. picked you out of a hat.

me: Seussical? heehee.

the man laughed heartily for five minutes. we both needed to decompress, it was clear neither of us had spoken to a soul for a while. it takes practice like anything else. it's not like riding a bike. i told him Dr. Seuss was my favorite existentialist. well him and Camus. Camus thought boxing was inhumane. Camus was the existentialist with heart. i always thought fighting was inhuman.

the man was wearing khaki shorts. that's just silly, it's not the same when the khakis are shorts. he had on the quintessential safari hat with his sandy brown hair billowing out of it. only thing missing was the collectible spearhead as the flourish in the hatband. and the British accent.

actually, there was more hair coming out of his eyebrows than on top of his head this morning. i didn't look directly at his face of course.

man: no, actually we picked you out of a computer. fellow catlover Mr. _________, i presume? (he got my name wrong.) as a valued member, i am here personally to inform you first of the infestation in these woods. we don't take kindly to strangers round these parts and neither do your felines. look out for the foreigners eating up our valuable wood. the bark beetle likes to hop on pop and ride random cats around the area so they don't tire out, the fiends. soldier crabs cobble themselves together in a frightening display of a circle, scaring the cats who would otherwise scare them off, as they form their homes under the dead tree carcasses. sure the beach is their home but soon it will all be eroded away. you've got to decide in life, gotta take a stand at least once whether you want to or not: humans or animals? anyway keep a nose out when you go outside. do you use the same flea shampoo as your cat? hey i see the scoop to your litter there caked in feces. not good, gotta scrape that off immediately or your whole house will riddle with disease. all sort of airborne toxins everywhere.

me: uh, yes, at the shelter i picked some up. i do need more supplies, though, thanks for reminding me.

member? it seems my sister has been paying dues behind my back.

man: is the man of the house home? remember, you're getting this before the media does.

me: hmmm? oh, he's around. or gone to ground. y'know how it is. watch out, he's liable to scratch your face when you least expect it. unpredictable, that's why we love 'em.

y'know i wouldn't want to see that, it would mean i would be forced to look at the man's face. the door closes ever so gingerly and i see through my window the man doubled over as if in pain but still on two legs. he peers at me and i quickly look away. the man quickly changes out of his hunting gear and dons a nicely-pressed white shirt and black tie. he is looking quite ironed.


me: yes?

man: hello, sir, sorry to bother you so early, but have you ever bothered to witness the incredible power of Jesus Christ? it is only though our very narrow interpretation of his awesome power are you guaranteed salvation. the road is skinny, like our ties, but it's worth it. no, we don't hand out pamphlets anymore, read our online brochure after your porn. just kidding. just trying to relate. what we do give away now are these cute little pith helmets commemorating our recent sojourn into the heart of Dark Africa.

me: i'm good, my brother. you're the same man. from before. i saw you change.

man: oh. you saw? really? you always keep your windows with the blinds down. surprised me. y'know it's a shame what's happened to the neighborhood. this place is so lush in green it's the perfect spot for a park. let the children play i say. but everyone is too enamored with their inside. no community anymore, just a trail of barns and some mansions up in the hills, connected only through city ordnance. everyone is so insular nowadays. all the wires are going into buildings. we need some wires outside to jumprope with. see right there, sign of the times, a Comcast whitetruck parked in the driveway. when's the last time you saw your neighbor on that driveway flipping through the paper in nothing but bunny slippers? it's like we're not human anymore.

the phone was off the hook the whole time! oh my sis is gonna be mad. and madder when she gets the phone bill in a month.

me (on the phone): sorry, babe...

sister (on the phone): some of us work you know. yeah, so there goes my lunch. you of all people should never talk to strangers. that's danger. so what are you gonna do? want to stay with me? i'm never home so it's perfect. it's roomier...

what?! i don't have this apartment after all? the deal didn't go through? hoboy, thank god my sister is the strong one in the family. i would not like to witness the expression on the face of that realtor with lamb all over his mouth. that's chagrin. but wait, does it have a lawn, sis?...

hello? oh, i took too long, no live sister on the other end, it was a recording she made. time flies when you're not working.

i opened the door again to stop the knocking.

man: well good afternoon, my man. how's lunch going? as you can read on the brim of my cap, it's Comcast here for your 12:30. you gotta love that 12:30 appointment, huh? installation should take four hours or so. don't worry, it's all free, complimentary channels for being our #1 valued customer in the tri-state area. Playboy AND History Channel, i'm not sure which one is more addictive!

i gave the man my card of the acting school i attend every now and then with a resounding reco, not looking at his face mind you, that takes a special kind of acting to be able to talk like that. so whatever play he ends up in i will be seeing him for the first time from the back row. it's better that way, type-casting is death. i enjoy the occasional play, i'm always getting free tickets to the shows i'm not cast in.

i hang up the phone. try to, Trinity is sitting on the dial. he stares at me curiously. he gets in his clumsy attack position, like he doesn't really wanna but it's instinct. i lift my finger and he bites it.

Trinity, thinking: amicus, i kiss you. thank you. that was some good water in the chipped china bowl this morning. didn't realize how thirsty i was. i don't drink at night cos the bowl is by your bed. i don't want to disturb you. yes, your finger, i kiss it to make the booboo better. i am happy with the simple things, like your indoor plants that make me sick when i eat the leaves and stuff. that leaf scent is intoxicating despite my better judgment. i see the sun and i'm set. all good. but i see you are a complicated cat. man. i need to get labyrinthine, too, if i am to relate to you, amicus. i'll catch up, don't worry. i've been sleeping on your butt when you become a log for eight hours. eight hours is too long. i should sit on your face and absorb your yottabytes of data. osmosis, that's the reason we all sleep, right? i'll become smarter than you when all is said and done, i'll pull YOU towards ME. i can't have you thinking we are dumb animals, we are intelligent like on tv, anything to perpetuate the myth. reality is cruel. i can't think of anyone else in my life.

me: ouch! love you, boy. i'm not the enemy. my hands are up. who's my smart boy? you immediately ran away when the stranger came to the door. that is beautiful, the world is cruel. you will outlive me with that thinking. i forgot, but i remember now. treats. cat treats. i'll get TWO pouches next time. i promise. chicken AND fish. in fact i'm going to the store right now. no sudden moves. please. i'm talking to myself, no need to provoke. or poke. come on, cat. come on, kitty cat. it's me, babe. please let me through without sharpening me.

i fake-jump to counter any plans to jump Trinity has. or would have had. it's a mexican standoff in Baja California. eventually Trinity sees that i don't have a clear medium-sized plastic bag in my hand and lets me go. crisis averted, hostage coming out for snacks.

i do the man one better and twitch my nose like Samantha from Bewitched when i get outside to smell. like i have whiskers on my nose.

Trinity (thinking): treats? treats is good. where's amicus? amicus is coming back. the yellow light outside is on, the sky is so beautiful. i am happy as a clam.

Monday, March 28, 2016


if i had to get a forehead tattoo, it would be the tat on the forehead of Puzzle from One Piece. not that i'm suddenly going all Mike Tyson or anything.

1. how do you feel about your appearance? a) negatively b) positively negatively

2. are you satisfied with your appearance? a) yes b) no yes

3. are you currently doing anything to improve your self-image? exercise, therapy, weight change, new lover, cosmetic surgery? yes. all of it. i had a menage a 3 with my therapist and cosmetic surgerist. it was so intense i don't have to exercise ever again. they both changed my thinking, one with talk and one with a small laser to my brain. i lost ten pounds from the orgasm alone.

4. do you have any rules which must be adhered to either before sexual action takes place or during sex? at some point, butter must be employed. now the butter doesn't have to be the lube, we could enjoy some nice burnt toast with butter afterwards. or perhaps some butter popcorn as we marathon Suddenly Susan.

5. are you satisfied with your significant other's appearance? if not what would you improve? i hate to be that guy, i hate to be so shallow in these very serious times, but it would be nice if she at least existed.

BONUS: what makes you feel sexy? being in equilibrium with time. i STILL am not fully recovered from the theft of my hour of sleep.



Friday, March 25, 2016



* South Park house

* ...waiting for the jump scare...

* Joe Pera=ASMR=Austere Sensible Measured Reasonable

* this is really smart stuff the deeper you delve into it, as you rewatch it and rewatch it. i had to watch it again cos i couldn't hear it the first time.

* you have to love sleep just the right amount. too little or too much and you're depressed.

* i visualize Katy Perry after every firework.

* race relations are a lot like filling icecube wait, uh, nevermind. i had this thing with Ice-T but forget i said anything.

* as we venture further and further out into space and time, you have to wonder how's it gonna be: more like Star Wars or Star Trek? or the happy medium of Close Encounters?

* Stephen Hawking named his ladies on the side his boson bitches.

* the answer to everything is love. the answer to every unsolvable mathematical equation, at the end of every math proof, is love. 1+1=love. soul mates have been scientifically proven by theoretical physicists. there is only one entity out there in the universe that's your perfect match. no, not that black hole...

* that's how they make pretzels? once again, thank you to Sesame Street.

* ironically, in order to really enjoy the Snack Belt, you must remove your belt.

* barns are big sheds.

* that one round springhouse barn is the only known place where you can still hear live polka music.

* i deleted all of my embarrassing voicemails. so they're in the cloud.

* phone tag starts to lose its cute around the third go-round. hey remember when The Phantom of the Opera was the hottest ticket in town?

* baseball isn't just boring, it's scary. stick with tennis, the ball's softer.

* who says hitting a baseball is the hardest thing to do in sports?

* i had to look away when the extinct animals came on. you precious creatures will never die in my mind, i will memorialize all of you forever in future short stories. and i'll do a book report on Kodak, too.

* 3-D is a scam.

* no, that's not a sad scene at the bar watching college basketball, it's a mad scene, it's March Madness baby!

* Bernie Madoff in this piece represents all of our future selves, the final verdict on humanity.

* oh, i get it, the gas stove was on the whole time...


sleepy weekend. have a lazy sunday.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016


i feel your pain. i feel your fright. i am here to make right. you delight, i alright. you are hungry, i am food. you are thirsty, i am god. curl up sound without a sound. four legs low to the earth. animals we, miracle birth. do not cry. do not speak. i understand each to each. scamper on, life so pure. don't mind me, i inure. everyday, heart to fill. private world, secret unspill.

yesterday was my birthday. i don't celebrate my birthday anymore. not like i used to. i don't think about myself anymore. i don't think in terms of cake. i'm no longer a leech sucking off the next nearest available plant. i have them to thank for that. it is a blessing.

my apartment is small but i pay it no mind. the one thing i made sure of was that it was pet-friendly. or rather it was a human-friendly pet area. i looked past the leaky roof and the dryer on fire. i'm not good with people so the guy had to repeat the conditions to me five times. i tend to mumble around two-legs. he still doesn't know if i signed on yet! heehee. i pawed the dotted line paper away without my reading glasses, which my cat stepped on. relax, man, order that carre d'agneau crown roast at the market tonight at 1AM the only time you could squeeze in for non-work matters, enjoy it with your family before they're gone and you grind yourself to death. i agreed. i enjoy my family. prolly wasn't until he got a call from the bank. heehee. my deposit went through thanks to my sister, thank her for your sigh.

it's gotta have a lawn, too, natch. today is a very sad day for me, i'm slithering across my new backyard the way Kiss would have. i'm on my back with all fours pointing straight up to the gray clouds. i mew in anticipation of a new scent she might have picked up in the middle of the night. i call out to her through my tears but both my throat and ducts have long since dried up. not out of will but out of nature. it was the Master i know it. i dare not speak his name. again. standing there all black and brooding in the middle of your field. and then of course his dark magic takes effect and your precious will to live is snatched under cover of night where only he dwells. both disappear from your sight but not your memory. i don't treat them like toys. you can't just get another one. i'd as soon get another me from the factory.

i hate the word pet. i try not to pet their heads. i try not to be condescending like that. but it's hard. they're so cute. it's such a damn reflex. this stuff gets hardwired into your young brain from Sesame Street and shit. this is tv's fault. i was watching the annual ASPCA telethon which interrupted my baseball game last year. it's funny when they said this was the 5th Annual, never noticed it before. guess i wasn't old enough to be a man. for i sure did notice the hostess this time. mmmmmm, Olga. that Olga with her Russian charms spilling out her worn khakis and Duluth Trading blue shirt with extra-long tail, gotta have that insurance in case the cameraman decides to get pervy with the angles. wow, sex even sells decency. it struck me this time for some reason, those helpless faces in cages. i couldn't wait for my sister to get back from work. work? work?! work's not important, cats are!

it took fucking four buses and four fucking hours to snake around what would have been a leisurely fifteen-minute drive in my sister's lincoln towncar with the gullwing doors up the hill to the vet. the vet on the hill. the first thing that hits you when you get there is how cold it all is. actually, no, the horse smell hits first. poor ponies. i didn't even want to look at the condition of those stink-filled stables. i was growing compassion right before my eyes. thank god, nothing else triggered me. even the hills further back are cold, tired from holding all the rainwater in their basin hats. i reached a sterile building and didn't know what the hell i was doing. was i qualified for this? was i enough of a human to care for another soul? i had forsaken my man card years ago but at least my membership in the animal kingdom wasn't in arrears. as long as i kept paying my dues.

first thing i see is a monk zooming past the security gate. the clerk nurse of course tells him "sir, that is a restricted zone, you can't go in there" like in every movie. too much media. our lives have become scripts, haven't they? this monk, i believe they called him Codependent or something, was a badass, he was a superhero with a shimmering garb and Lex Luthor head and shiny Mr. T medallion. it's like he was my magician, no my magic man, come to steer me in another direction. another world. imagine if i hadn't been there at that right spot at that right time.

monk: kid, hold Kiss for me, i gotta go fix something in the universe. she's yours now, her brother is with the aunts.

me: the ants? i see, god rest his soul.

monk: no, he's with the aunts, call them to see if they're home first then reunite them. don't break into their house, they hate that. these cats are brother and sister, i know it. not by blood, by chance. i hate broken homes. family is all. it's better this way, i hate drawn-out goodbyes.

he never came back. and he never left me the aunts' number. i hope the brother eventually reunited with his sister. they are undoubtedly reunited at this point. now if i told you i saw the monk exit the office, leap over the stables potato-rucksack cape flopping in the wind, and fly directly into the sun, would you call me crazy? don't answer that. well that's what i saw. but then again i had him pegged for a superhero the moment i laid eyes on him.

so i filled out all the paperwork. or the nurse filled it out for me. i hate paperwork. i hate signing things. i don't want a record of myself. i just want to play.

and yes i made sure to choose the cute girl volunteer to give Kiss her first flea bath. and yes i was in the room the whole time staring at her butt in jeans, too shy to look directly at the beauty of her face. she would make small talk with her confident vet-in-training knowledgeable voice and i'd just look down. hey give me some credit, i saw those cute boots she was wearing, too, i gave them some shine in my mind.

when Kiss died, i did, too. or when she poofed into thin air. forever. i didn't know what to do with myself. my belief in all was shattered. but i was determined about one thing, the only thing i've ever been determined about: i would not go one fucking day without a cat. i could not endure a catless day, for that was an unconditional-loveless day. i took a short nap and dreamt about having a little critter moving around inside a soft down blanket with spinning-top weaves by my side under my comforter in my bed as i watched Total Blackout on Syfy at 10:30PM. Jaleel White is a pimp. yes, i could not enjoy Jaleel anymore if i wasn't cowatching with my new furbaby. i would forsake Family Matters forever. no more reality tv for this bub. no more tv. how could i enjoy anything again without a four-legs? there was a hole by my side.

so i just did it. i didn't make excuses like i usually do. the bus ride, uh, rides, were shit as usual but i returned to the ASPCA center to get myself a new companion the same day of the funeral. it's like ordering one of those online Russian brides but way cleaner. y'know i never thought to buy an animal. adopt, don't shop. i'm not sure whether that comes out of my generosity or another slogan on tv. probably tv.

any girls were out so i found myself at the door of the dude vet. i entered to find him in a preppy shirt with a horse on it and no coat slumped over on the exam table white paper roll, steadying himself from licking the floor with his hand in the tongue-depressor jar.

me: uh, the vet on the hill?

vet (mumbled through the paper): yes?

me: you're not what i expected. you seem young. i like your crew cut, though, nice and trim, you don't see that style anymore in my generation. i appreciate the nondyed sandy dirty brown nowadays. anyway i went to the glass area and encased myself playing with a few kittens. i was all set to get the teeny tiny black-and-white spotted one that was so small i was worried i'd step on it when Emilio the racehorse came in. this cat took center stage, ran around the pen five times burning off his excess energy and attacked the mouse-on-a-steel-spring toy with such baby ferocity it broke all the circles in half. he couldn't be ignored. i called my sister and she said she fell in love with his hands. i'm dubbing him Trinity. came to me in my nap. he looks like a tiger...oh snap, damn, oh well, too late, i already signed the name page.

vet: is that the one who's so big the nurses aren't sure how old he is exactly? like it could be a Little League situation where the team's star pitcher is 30 years old but has a babyface? why do you want a cat? they just die in the end. they're too much trouble. they pee everywhere and scratch your eyeballs out and never listen. they get into your stuff and scratch up your final divorce notice papers and your dismissal from the military and contaminate every faucet you have with their filthy tongues. see my two water bottles at the ready on my belt here? yeah, let them try something, i got an answer for their attacks.

i pet the vet's head.

me: orange tabby. dull. he's not dull, his orange is. i've never once thought in terms of counterattack. never in my life. whenever i got hit, i just took it silently. i understand your frustration. the Master is a menace, his black coat isn't the only thing that's black. his magic is, too. i don't want to think about the horror my poor Kiss witnessed in the clutches of the dark lord. i just hope it was quick and painless. i say it so i don't have to think it.

vet: master? what the hell is that? you go to the local junior college, huh? you have that weird speech pattern to you, like it seems deep but it's really just rambling. is this some sort of metaphor for the putting to sleep that eventually comes to all creatures great and small? don't worry, we follow the local euthanasia laws, we don't break, we're humane.

me: i could never be in that room. there is nothing humane about death.

i don't think the vet lifted his head once the entire bonafides interview. i rushed the process along cos Olive Garden next door was about to close. had a fierce hankering for some large garlic croutons. i told the vet to take the ransom out of my sister's account, i had paid for him to sign over the deed of this cat to me and all his shots and visits and treats and waterbowls beforehand, with my word anyway. it was weird, my heart felt two sizes too big, it was heavier like i was carrying all the love the vet had lost in me. heavy. i was supposed to notice the heaviness of the atmosphere when i got outside. i was so distracted with making sure Trinity had a leash on so he wouldn't make a break for it and run away to them thar hills the minute he got out of jail. wow, i didn't notice it raining outside. me. me! for me that's a miracle. in reverse.

on the bus ride back Trinity kept crying in his big white cardboard box with holes. i felt bad for him being in there but there was no other way. the bus driver was a hardass about no pets allowed out. the other passengers were not amused. man this place sucks. just as well, seeing a cat on a leash is just too silly. i at least spared my boy that embarrassment. it was too funny, eventually Trinity's yelps actually sounded in rhythm, it was like a well-oiled measured orchestra of meows every eighth of a beat. Bach would have been proud god rest his soul. Bach was God. the more annoyed the other busriders got the more i smiled. heehee. externally not internally. i don't care about these people, i don't go home to them, forget them.

though my socks were tight about my ankles and my shoes were stiff and my heavy overcoat was still on over my pajamas, i felt lighter when Trinity crossed the threshold. i made sure to permanently remove his collar. the air all around was imbued with a new smell of freshness and light. it was night, i had conquered the day. as you can imagine i was exhausted. my emotions had gone down to sleep hours ago. i hopped into bed and was wondering what would happen next. i gotta admit, Total Blackout is particularly boring tonight. but maybe i'm just not paying attention. i have the blanket all set up but Trinity ripped it to shreds when i went to get the milk. just as well, i was entering my own total blackout. where's Trinity? can't see him. i like to keep my room lights off when i watch tv, adds to the movie-like atmosphere. my eyelids are heavier than the rain. then Trinity hops onto my bed unexpectedly, gives a loud mew like 'what the fuck did i just endure back there on that bus and how do i know you're not a worse enemy and will i ever get fed again?' and scratches my eyes out.

i can't blame my cat, i really can't. but even that didn't prevent me from falling asleep.

Monday, March 21, 2016


1. if you died tomorrow, to whom would you leave all your worldly possessions? Axl Rose. i'll be his Kickstarter. i know he has one more "November Rain" in him. is Chinese Democracy finished yet?

2. what did you like to play as a child? EVERYTHING. i pretended i was everyone from a medieval page to the matriarch of a group of medieval bears. medieval=magic. you have to understand, i was an only child. my room with my heavy 13" raffle-won tv on my dresser was my entire world. i was bouncing off the walls long before i drank my first Gummiberry Juice.

3. have you ever gone on a rampant sex spree while depressed? yes. depression is a helluva drug.

4. do you mind if your partner wants to have porn videos playing while the two of you are having sex? no. it's cool. i love our videos. it's just weird when you see yourself at the top of the Homemade tab the next morning.

5. what is the sexiest thing you did last week? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

i took Wednesday off, had a lot of free time.

BONUS: you have to give your lover a report card on your last sexual encounter. i gotta?
---what would they score? ABCDEF? A for Axl. F for Fawesome.
---what could he/she improve upon? too pretentious---AV Club TV Club
---for what would your lover be reprimanded for during sex? hogging the aftersex cigarette, i only brought one. that first post-coitus puff is sacred to me, i light it on the afterglow in the air and let the first ash fall on me to remind me: ashes to ashes. orgasm is little death but death is big death.

tomorrow i turn a year older. i can't believe i made it to 500. my cyberbrain seriously needs a lube job. i don't feel any wiser. but i do feel longer.


Friday, March 18, 2016



* these people need Dr. House.

* it's pronounced po-TAH-to.

* i never conceived of putting whole tomatoes into a salad till i went to an Olive Garden. lo and behold, the cherry tomato! will wonders never cease. thank god for Olive Garden in our lives over the years teaching us things like the importance of family and that things can be neverending.

* teenagers need to rebel, it's part of growing up. they will never call their parents to let them know what they're up to. cos the parents got them that phone that isn't a phone and only takes pictures.

* please, i'm telling you, i speak from experience: pills are evil.

* this is like if Seinfeld were a horror flick.

* this is like if Paranormal Activity were a sitcom.

* that handyman is supposed to be Jesus, huh?

* it's comforting to know that Sonic the Hedgehog is there. and that he's achieved Super Saiyan.


* i find that the most malleable clay is Golem clay.

* this is a warning to all parents: thin ceilings affect us all.

* you can tell the father was a pastor in a previous life.

* that little boy will be scarred for life.............from his grandmother.

* poor girl just wanted to sleep. stupid daylight saving stole an hour from her.

* it's more fun outside anyway. on the grass. nature. hey whatever happened to lawn darts anyway?

* i'm not sure what Super Saiyan Sonic did to save the day. but i'm sure he did. he's so fast you can never see what he's doing.

* the ending: i envy those people. i wish i could take my nap now.

* what is a nightmare really? other than your brain's way of scaring the shit out of you.

* why do all birthday parties end up being traumatic?

* to those who thought this was boring and stupid: i offer you the cherry tomato. let your imagination run wild.


forget what you have just seen and have a happy weekend

Monday, March 14, 2016


St. Patrick is my favorite saint...

1. have you ever been so loud having sex that housemates/neighbors commented or complained? complained no, but they commented. on messageboards. i guess that made them feel better. i was sorry about it, sometimes i lose myself and become an animal. they wanted to throw us out, but it was just me living there.

2. ever had kids or parents bust in on you in the middle of full-on sex? no, but my parents once did bust in on me right in the middle of me watching a particularly awkward scene of my anime show.

3. ever sucked on someone's toes? licked their feet? your request or theirs? yes. yes. neither. which was weird.

4. describe your typical sexual romp. a) playful and tame b) introduction of outfits and toys c) love shocking your trying new things d) missionary, lube, sleep:


except with lube.

also there was this one time where i wrecked the trailer of my Optimus Prime...

5. speaking of lube, what is your favorite lube for sex and why? i'm not gonna say butter. margarine. cos it's less fat. but y'know i was chatting with mom and she told me she was watching a PBS talk which outlined that it's not fat you have to be concerned with, it's sugar. of course the one giving the lecture was Willy Wonka so take that with a grain of sugar.

BONUS: what are you looking forward to this week? not springing forward again.



Friday, March 11, 2016



* Vault Boy skips along with his dunce hat on.
homeless monsters by the side of the road: at least he gets to go to school.

* narrator: an empty mind is....................what you have.
Vault Boy: yes? and?
narrator: that's it.

* Vault Boy enters the code.
Vault Boy: well whaddaya know? the password was PASSWORD.

* computer: enter password.
Vault Boy: what is the password?
computer: your name.
Vault Boy: A-HA! tricked ya! *enters VAULT BOY*
computer: error. enter your real name.
Vault Boy: A-HA! tricked ya again! *enters YOUR REAL NAME*

* the door slides open and out rolls Rosie the Robot.
Rosie: you ain't Mr. J! where's Mr. J?!
Vault Boy: there was a nuclear holocaust. everyone is dead.
Rosie: *oily robot tears* oh Mr. J. well not everyone is dead. here, try this tea.
Vault Boy: don't mind if i do *gulps down the entire teacup*
Rosie flashes a menacing smile.
Rosie (robotic laughter): heh heh heh heh

* in the lab, Vault Boy fashions himself a spiffy new state-of-the-art four-barreled gun.
Vault Boy looks directly at the camera.
Vault Boy: Nerf.

* narrator: note that the S stands for Superman....i mean, Safety. couldn't get that trademark lifted.

* Vault Boy (reading): the big books have the big words.

* Vault Boy (swaying left and right): i'm riding the bus like a good boy.

* Vault Boy: brother, can i use your blood?
fallen soldier: yes, brother, anything for the cause.
Vault Boy: thank you. after the war, i'm gonna be a vampire...


happy weekend, my babies. i'm gonna go sleep now for a billion years...

Wednesday, March 9, 2016


the house. is a shack. the house is situated in the middle. dead middle. a house of no end. creepily creeping. of pasta. it has dilapidated over time but it still holds up. it's gray with white paneling charred on the sides. parked by a cruel rope a horse has broken free from its pole made slanty by a surreptitious Cotard. Codrus would have been the better rhyme, but that's not how life is. an airplane softly buzzes overhead. this house has one room, where the table lies. it looks like a grand oak table long and proud but it's a collegial round white circle upon further notice. nobody makes it this far to observe it deeply. the family is heaving breakfast as always. the woman is wearing a purple frock of silver fleurs-de-lis, her hair happily shaggy, curling by the dying sun. she smiles cos she has every right to smile genuine and warm and snickery. her two sons pull each other by the hair. as normal. Cotard, the good son, eyes dainty, the one who isn't done learning. and Codrus, Goofus, eyes droopy, the one who stopped learning miles ago. the tablecloth is the ol' dusty beige curtain. the mother tried to fight the light for awhile but said fuck it one day and just let it all in. there's a mirror, the only glass, with wireframe steamed with punk that hangs around the sidetop above the table, gothily reflecting. near the center of the table one candle with a fire base holds a wax flame atop alight. Fuerza is setting up the table, one fork, an alpha, one spoon, another alpha, and a knife that is a scissors of blades of two butter knives.

Fuerza: it's getting cold.

she pours the coffee into the orange juice. on the menu today: bread brilliantly toasted, eggs scrambled with creme fraiche folded into chives, salted duck egg, steak after a loss, and necktops on punji sticks. nachos and hot-buttered popcorn on the cob for the show. baby Imzhan injures his tiny peepee trying to open the pink bacon case then promptly falls asleep on the floor. black and tan for dessert.

Fuerza: welp, only for mama. *ah* delicious digestif. i deserve this. i'm your typical SAHM who drinks a little bit too much afternoon wine cooler with her Oprah.

Codrus: you can keep her. way too much hardship being both a black and a woman. how do they do it? is it meant to be this hard? extra hard? double hardship? pain pouring out perfecting pouts and popping pills. you can't think of the meaning, your brain is just a blob of fat, you have to feel the meaning.

Fuerza: don't make me look bad in front of the other mothers. you're bad enough. you illiterate ill-raised ingrate. you have to learn. you HAVE to learn. that's the way it is. a hater has to sleep some time, that's when i intrude, inside a dream quickly forgotten, in the mellow moments, and plant a quiet red flower that creeps up through the concrete. that's when you use your noodle, in the silence of sleep. now finish your noodles. slurp them up with a slurping sound to let me know you like them. noise, am i right? that's the way it is, son. it's kinda just perfect, though, huh?

Cotard: yes, mama. unfortunately netflix only has Jerry Springer, still waiting on those Oprah repeats to upload. perhaps in the next Eight Days of Eighties. i talked to that woman again on instagram. you know the one.

Codrus: leave her in the dust. not worth the trouble. never worth it. bitches, please. harlots only hatch headaches.

Cotard: well i didn't talk to her actually. i don't know what to do. we had been cordial. she wears a bison hat.

Codrus puts his hand-ears to his ear-sides.

Cotard: no, Street Fighter Bison. beautiful german lady. it was international women's day. i forgot to wish it to her. first. i used her space to wish it to you, Fuerza, with a yellow heart.

Fuerza: awwwww, like a good mijo. i'm sure she understood.

Cotard: she stoned me. answered everyone but me. i wished her HIWD but it might as well have been hi or Happy Iraq War Day, i wasn't gonna get a reply. we had been okay, now it's awkward. her next pic came up. tennis ball in bernard's mouth. i love tennis. i love dogs. do i unfollow? do i like to see if she's blocked me? do i ignore her for the rest of time? this indecision will haunt me and hit me, there is no moratorium, there'll just be peaceless silence all across the plains. i'll forever feel morbidly misaligned moving again.

Fuerza: wait, let me see that thing. i'm not mad about the gram, but i told you to stop playing these video games. they only lead to ruin. i don't get it. there's already magic all around. i see a plumber but i don't see the crack anywhere. never trust a man with pointy ears. and these carnal combat games with the ninjas where you can't see their faces. Mask. and i'm not talking about the video games. pleasure is a privilege. your home will be your graveyard. the only glass in this house is that mirror over there.

Codrus traps his brother in a rear naked choke and gives him an indian burn on his shoulder and a noogie on his noggin.

Codrus: yeah, bro, grams in moderation. bye mom! we can walk to school. we'll look both ways.

Fuerza: wait, mister! you, bad seed, i have a feeling i won't be seeing you for some time. give your mama a kiss on the mouth for old time's sake. you've got some detention in you, i can see it. finish your oatmeal and your errand before you go. i'd tell you to complete your homework but what's the point. you, prodigal son, since we are here on Bridge Street with those poor sealions barking on the pier, have some local cuisine, some french sourdough bread, some oysters kilpatrick, some green goddess dressing, that's my specialty. eat up and feed it to those poor barking animals out there. i hope their food supply hasn't been wiped out. my sea is somber. nature is in algal bloom. they just had to move faster, didn't they? couldn't wait for the next ice age. stupid man! i wonder about my decision sometimes.

Codrus (outer monologue): i love being around trash, being in it, within it. i love taking out the trash every morning. whenever i do it, i always feel empty inside, like all the nastiness has gone out of the house, it's clean and cleansed and colonic. come over here, i'll show you, give you the master tour. heh, watch your step. yeah. coming out here to the front porch. overcast today. so we just move the rocking chair here over to the side to reveal the hole in the loose plank there, see? we remove the plank to reveal the hole. this hole with all the hands coming out of it. the Wat Rong Khun hands. the hands are white and black and green. i don't mind the hands so much as the voices that get in your head. and dump and close the plank and done. voices over. what's that red? my hand is bleeding. huh, didn't notice. i love taking out the trash.

Fuerza: don't have time to wash, son, you're late.

the boys finish their oatmeal. the oatmeal is really gray moondust. Codrus gulps down the last of his milk by eating the cow out back. Cotard declines and becomes a vegan right then and there on the spot. Codrus bites into a bloody knife while eating his porridge, dug into the sand with viginti inscribed on its dulled sterling blade.

Cotard: i'm at a loss.

Fuerza: there's not enough money. you're gonna have to split that fin for hot lunch today.

Codrus: *Nelson haha* i'm gonna eat your lunch.

Fuerza: gotta fight, mijo. if you don't stand up to the bully in the family, the cycle never ends. but i love your animal spirit. so i've stashed some hidden goods in your backpack, some frozen custard in your thermos and fish sticks in your DuckTales lunchbox. i left a little motivational meme on a yellow postit, don't open it til lunch when you'll need a positive positing pickmeup. a mother's love works so much better than 5 Hour Energy. don't tell Codrus. Codrus, you'll forget your Duck Hunt lunchbox. now off you go, two, shuffle forth. i want to eat my oysters kilpatrick in peace.

Codrus: kirkpatrick?

Fuerza: either way, it's such a lovely name. oysters rockefeller? not so much.

Free Willy jumps onto the table and onto the silver platter.

Fuerza (softly and with a sly eye): did you bring your swim trunks for the pool, mijo? and extra towels?

Cotard (mouthing mutter): si, mama.

Codrus: bye mom! i feel like i'm in a cage in here.

Cotard: women's day. huh. oh wait, i forgot to do one thing.

Cotard reels himself around the table to find a baby girl toddling underneath on a damp towel. he kisses both her cheeks and hugs her, and the two kids are off. Fuerza picks up the two cats which have leaped onto the table and holds them with her arms outstretched so she can get a good look at their faces. and bodies.

Fuerza: i'm never gonna have grandkids. so you are my fur grandbabies.

she takes a sip of her coffee from her chipped All Hearts mug and licks the cats on their faces which the cats turn to decline with a meow-cry.

Fuerza gets up and checks herself out in the mirror. instead of showing her her image the mirror begins drawing a sketch of her in pencil. first the outline...

the boys reenter frantically.

Cotard: oh, almost forgot, it's picture day! need moar money.

Fuerza: what am i, a cash register? the spaghetti's getting cold and less thick. fuck me. shit that, i'll take your picture right here. gotta save you. gather round, tight circle, let's go.

Fuerza collects her two sons Cotard and Codrus around her wide arms and fits them into the frame. she holds up the camera with her outstretched hand in front of their three faces and gets in one good shot that just makes the portrait dimensions. the flash-lamp goes off in an explosion of smoke.

Fuerza: this is the very first photograph.

Codrus: not only that, it's the very first selfie.

Cotard: what's a selfie?

Fuerza: the end of introspection and the beginning of fear.

there is shitloads of traffic this morning. the boys have to do a bit of dodgy dodging and fancy footwork and pretty parkour to manuever past the sunday drivers. Codrus stays on the yellow dotted dividing line and lets all the cars crash into him.

Cotard (halfheartedly): don't do it. numbnuts. do you want to be an exquisite corpse?

Codrus: i dunno, i want to feel again. i still feel like i'm in a cage, even here.

Fuerza can be seen on her front porch, waving wildly hi and bye with a spaghetti spatula in her hands, one with a heart on each tong organization.

Fuerza: come on, i hear the bell ring. vamonos. i'll hold up the traffic. one flash of my tits and they're putty in my hand. just go. they know me at the faculty, tell them i signed the permission slip in spirit. facu.

Cotard: come on, bro, get up, i'll carry you. why is your bookbag so heavy?

Codrus: got my boombox in there.

the boys open a door and are at the property line of the schoolyard.

Cotard (sniffs): we're here.

Codrus (sniffs): and i'm still in my cage.

the asphalt is black and colored brightly in white chalk, divided up into hopscotch rectangles and squares. and would-be jocks. the kickball field is indistinguishable from a baseball diamond. the tetherball circles house a big harmful steel metal pole drilled down into its center with the yellow volleyballs' cruel ropes tightly bound all around the pole that all you see is light-red string. the morning announcements are lately made through the loudspeakers blaring all across the hilly area.

Cotard: you know, we always hear the announcements but we can never find where the school loudspeakers are located.

Codrus: it's magic, like Hogwarts.

a girl is shyly leaning against the brick handball wallcourt. Sid, Rumi, and Glidden are thumbing marbles at their circle. except it's not quite a circle.

Codrus (pushing Cotard): wait, hold up, i wanna scare them. i'm gonna hide in the bushes. imma b a pirate. watch this.

Codrus cuts himself on the serrated leaves of the overgrown ivies hanging out of the encircling chain-link fence of pentagons.

Cotard (Isabella singsong): what'cha doin'? are you guys having hot lunch today? i only got 5 dollars, can't get the supreme pizza.

Sid (face lights up): hi, my friend. i think it's enough for a chili dog. the price always goes up.

Glidden (face droops): not enough for a Chicago-style hot dog, though. i brought my sadbrownsack lunch today. i feel like such an outcast. i'm thinking of leaving. dying my hair pink.

Rumi (face drops): my mom made me two pieces of bread with spaghetti in the middle. and a note. awwww. i'll keep that private amongst the two of us.

Cotard: that reminds me, i forgot to thank my mom this morning.

Sid: you'll have another chance, my brother. oh look! (lights up) up in the sky! it's a bird! it's a missing plane! it', it's a bird, a green bird.

Codrus as the green bird flies around erratically and does a loop-de-loop perching himself on Cotard's shoulder. Codrus poofs back into a man, a boyman, flips Cotard over WWF wrestling-style and cradles Cotard in swaddling towels, tapping his nose, babying him with babytalk, and feeding him pruned prunes.

Codrus: mama said. what's up, guys? how's tricks how's tricks? ready for hot lunch at high noon? it's Wednesday. love Wednesdays. what d'y'all have for lunch? hey is that a circle or a pentagram?

Cotard: pentagon.

Sid (droops): oh it's you. your head is big. your hat is too small.

Codrus (shoves Sid against the fence, following a pattern of marking): what'd you call me?! do you know who i am? who do you think you are? how dare you call me fat and stupid! (flips baseball cap backwards and turns the ring on his finger around) enter my ring. here's my finger in your eye. taste my gold.

Codrus shoots Sid's face. the other two are too scared to intervene so they go by the bystandard standard.

Codrus: look at that honey over there. that girl is prime meat. i'm gonna make her mine. i'm gonna smash that dime into pieces.

Sid (starts to cry): please don't be so coarse. my sensitive ears can't take it!

Codrus: awwww. should be. that girl is our future. without her, we are forced to become famous. are you jealous? did you want her for yourself? but you didn't have the words? didn't have the style? weren't a part of the world enough to be worldly? you imagined her as your future wife, your lady, your eighty, baking her pies and kissing her on the sill. and a little birdie would come and cover your hole. pathetic boy with your newfangled mini tv in your hand. that won't get you anywhere. are you still breathing?

Sid (struggling): yes, thanks to you. what do you want? everyone has a price. candy? gum? rummage through my rumpled pockets and in my socks, you can eat my whole load.

Codrus: not me. i can't be bought.

Sid: i'll trade you two mini KitKats for a Twix.

Codrus: bad deal, kid. Always Be Candying. always open with Whatchamacallit, close on nerds. you gotta know how to negotiate like me. gotta run your personal life like a business. i won't destroy you this time. you've got gumption, little man, think i'll keep you around, turn you. it's nice having someone around.

Sid: i refuse. j'accuse. i have my clique, get yours.


Codrus steams back up, clenches his throat, and one-punches Sid through the wall. except Cotard saves Sid at the last minute as the handball wall crumbles in a heap of ashes and dirt brick. the girl luckily had since left, disappeared, never uttering a word, and was never heard from again.

Codrus: throw another one in the pile. *ah* i feel better.

Cotard: remember what mama said?

did you remember to forget?

no, i forgot to remember.

Codrus: i know, channel your rage positively. with music.

Codrus plops his heavy rainbow boombox in front of his captive audience, blows on the tape cassette, blows on the right tapedeck painted red and pushes PLAY.


Codrus: what you think? how u like? just some fat beats i've been working on.

Cotard (chanting): remix! remix! remix! re...sorry.

Codrus: well, if you insist...

Codrus hurries up and flips over the cassette and flips to the left tapedeck, not painted.


Cotard: tuneful. you have us at a deficit. you have surpassed Mozart and Kanye. you are the Kubrick of painters, the Escobar of apostles.

Codrus: that is called music. see? forget those wenches, this is what gets us high. what's that in your hand, weird kid?

Rumi: my dice. i was saving them in my palm for later. my deadbeat dad gave them to me. i treasure them. i cherish the chance. as a surprise for the guys.

Codrus twirls his finger.

Codrus: look again. carefully this time. comb through the lines of your palm.

the two die have transformed into two pieces of the Stones.

Rumi: no thanks, man. i just say no.

Sid: i DARE to...

Codrus: yeah, yeah, we get it. (swallows the two rocks himself) it's the greatest things, you never have to think again, just take two and call me in the morning. i can lie back on this tin trash can, let my arms and legs dangle, and look up to the sky. zone out. fruit and veg. oh look, up in the sky! it's the green bird. what am i doing up there?

the Cowboy Bebop "Green Bird" song plays on the loudspeakers.

also on the loudspeakers:
Chris Rock: welcome to the Oscars! (and then Chris Rock walks off the stage and boycotts the rest of the show.)

the green bird lands on Codrus's gigantic head. Codrus has a starry look in his eyes and pets the bird's plumage.

Codrus: prettie birdie. i'm jealous. i can never get it as good as you, bro. mine is always a copy, yours always seems like a real animal. *pet pet pet stroke stroke stroke* so where did the Stones come from, anyway?

the bell rings. the hot-lunch truck lumbers its way into the schoolyard, busting its tire trying to get over the hump. it churns out that creaky racist ice-cream-truck song. the truck is adorned with bad bunting, truffles, and crosscountry miniflags. the sidedoors open and it's quite a spread: dogs, pizza, AND chicken! the last embers of sunlight bounce off the driver's bald head. a plume of smoke escapes from the other door window.


Codrus (in Colonel Sanders twang): man oh man that chemistry is hard. did you get the fillup box? are you filling up?

the three would-be surfers are having their lunch together. but they're not eating any pizza. they are merely smelling the aroma from the truck. they manipulate the stink lines of the pizza wafting in the light summer breeze on this misty day and form three slices of invisible pizza which they eat.

the three bums: we've had our fill.

Codrus: you're eating air, brahs. hey bro, aren't you hot in that thing?

Cotard: i've grown comfortable in my coat, thank you. it's animal-free. i'm accustomed to it now. i smell the pizza, too. it's surprisingly plain. you didn't get the supreme?

the three bums: no, cheese pizza is the best. just cheese and bread. gooey and gentle. starch and simple. burning on the roof of your mouth where your voice is. everyone loves pizza. even vegans. especially vegans. you can smell the cheese. you smell the essence of it. it's like that old ditty goes, some folk music refrain i heard once before Codrus invented music:

the cheese stands alone

Cotard is drawing the smoke towards himself. he directs the smell lines from the truck oven to form a rainbow spinning wheel that turns into a spoke of cheese. it is real cheese, it's corporeal, he can hold it in his hand.

the three bums: how's the pizza taste?

Cotard: i'm tasting the pizza right now. but it's not a circle of pizza pi. i bite into it and i only taste the cheese. it's not pizza made of cheese, it's cheese. it tastes weird. foreign.

the three bums: lucky. at least you get to see it. we don't.

Cotard: not yet. you'll get there. maybe i'll die or something. what are you guys doing after school?

the three bums in unison: finding our loves!

Cotard (bashfully): girls?

Sid (blushes): in bed!

Rumi: i'm thinking of taking up surfing. there's a star i want to bank on.

Glidden: girls? i've never thought about that. not once. the galaxy is so full.

Cotard: you have all the space in the world.

everyone starts laughing uncontrollably for no reason and can't stop.

Codrus: what's so funny.

Wolf comes sloppily in.

Codrus: you look like you ate a dozen corndogs. none of that chili shit, just plain hot dog, liberal. and why were you absent yesterday? you were the scuttlebutt of this whole joke of a school.

Wolf: why are you guys still here? it's a half-day. my mom took me to In-N-Out Burger. got me some animal fries. i went back home and i watched Looney Tunes at 1PM. i never get to do that. they were so mysterious and awesome. then i got bored and came back here. nobody's in the house, my folks are at my little brother's teeball game and the place gets lonely and cavernous. i can't do spelling in spooky. look, here's a picture of my baby bro on my instagram.

Codrus: that's that baby with the raised fist. he's flicking the world off.

Wolf: nah, he's giving the world inspiration, hope, he's gesturing to them YOU CAN DO IT! scroll, scroll, stroll. look at that beautiful woman with her beautiful expression, her beautiful pizza-slice wedge-shaped mouth, her lips like a quacking frog, her eyes lovingly raised up to her sick black cat. that's the most beautiful picture i will ever see. i think it's great we're all connected. i go on suicide-prevention boards all the time. i cry when i see threads where no one is answering.

hello? is anybody there? i know it's a tuesday afternoon but i need to talk to someone. now. it's all a lie. i can't do this anymore. it's just words. there's no meaning. i don't feel well. for four weeks. roughest spell yet.

i make sure to answer. i think of their mother. i never leave a thread bare. always by a hair's breadth. by the skin of my teeth hidden by my bushy beard.

Codrus: yeah it's weird that a fifth-grader like you already has a full beard. have you heard the new Pablo? the new Baleen?

Wolf: love Baleen. i saved him from sacrificing himself to his sadness, killing his kin.

Codrus (low bellowing voice): no you didn't. he killed his kind. he didn't just suicide himself, he became a suicide bomber. you see it, don't you? you see his funeral playing out right now? his griefstricken mother veiled in patchy hexagonal black, morose mouth hidden, at the foot of the pew, unable to sit up? to die is one thing, but to bring shame to the family is eternal, to sow dishonor deadens the deity.

Wolf: how can you be so cruel? where's your soul?

Codrus: i'll trade you my thermos of klit liquor and my empty cornhusk for one of them things. my spaghetti comes with the egg on top. NBD. it's just another reality, an alternate dimension, one as real as the one you know.

Wolf: just because you can doesn't mean you should. that's mean, not meaning. i'm still human. this isn't a game, even though it's set up like a game.

Codrus: i've always wanted to master Go. ha ha. heh. heh heh. so where did the Stones come from?

Cotard: they came from you. your imagination.

Codrus (flustered): no, that can't be. no more tricks, facades, false doors. this is the REALITY! this is the ENDING!

Cotard: they come from where the wild things are. where they go. they are Calvinball, which we play at recess now instead of kickball. they are Mister Rogers. they are The X-Files mythology. they are Richard Thompson's Cul de Sac which i'm allowing him to finish now. i healed him. there is no justice. except in art. finish the art before helping the family. there is no room for forgiveness nor lost ideas. we are all at our core completionists. it's all made up.

Codrus (getting more and more heated): that can't be. after everything. it's a beautiful day in the culled n' sacked hood? every level up. every book. eating snakemeal. drinking every secret potion and using the excess as aftershave. eau de Ebert's comet. bitchin brews. every incantation. learning how to fight from Bruce Lee, Mugen, Jin, and Conor McGregor. secretly hating my mother to gain more eyesight.

Cotard: you need not insight, brother, but outsight.

Codrus: transform into the green bird! do it now! right now! i order you!

Cotard: if it keeps peace in the family, our house in order. i can't do it like mama's bird all big and yellow.


Codrus (smiles): where's your stash? under the bed? i've checked there a dozen and once times. never could i find it. i know you're a druggie like me. you're no better than me. you fool mom but you're my inspiration.

Cotard (as the bird singing): it's me, brother. all of me. i make the sign of the cross in my mind. i don't do drugs. i've never touched the Stones. don't have the stomach for it. got a weak stomach. a fat flabby stomach.

Codrus (falls back and hits his head on the surface of the moon): *scratches the top of his head* *scratches the back of his head* *on the blood bubble blister on the back of his neck* new blood. i'm barely able to search my neck now my head's so massive. all i see is my own head. the dome. not outside. i don't see the horizon. the stars are my eyes. i can't touch my spine.

you have to understand: all of this has been going on while Codrus is still cradling Cotard in his arms.

Codrus (looking up at the baby): what is the meaning?

Cotard kisses Codrus on the mouth.

Cotard (meekly): there is no meaning. that is the meaning.

Codrus starts to snicker to himself. it grows. it develops into a full-blown wicked guffaw. and he grows. Codrus closes his eyes and laughs and laughs and laughs and takes his two fists, clasps them together, and punches his stomach to laugh more. he doubles over in rision.

the circle is as tight as it will ever be.

there is no meaning                              that is the meaning

there is no Big Bang. Codrus is sitting in a pool of his own filth. he tries to sit up and fit himself into a bathtub. Codrus drinks of his own bathwater but the bathwater dissolves Codrus into sugar. there is no Big Bang. instead, Codrus's head explodes and fills the galaxy.

out of the white ash, Codrus emerges. Codrus is a baby.

and he cries.

Codrus cries for all of eternity. his nose fills with snot.

a pitiful yearning woeful cry full of pain and desperation and uncertainty, wanting a woman

wanting a mommy

unable ever to see the man

on the first eternity, he cries for all the injustices that were electrocuted away

on the second eternity, he fills all the rivers, streams and bogs, but not the lakes, with his tears. the new worlds are filled with his sadness. that is why water is always salty

on the third eternity, he moans and wails with the Thom Yorke falsetto

and on the fourth eternity, not the final one but the clinching one, he cries for the collective burden of being alive in an unfair universe, for every thing who has lived or will ever live, stuck in boxes, stuck in shitty childhoods, branded with skin, dying of darkness, chasing smart and sexy, riddled with unknown diseases, hollowed-out and hungry, fashion victims, crooning against culture, body-shapers and circular boxes, circle boxes where you store the latest hats that Codrus wants to try on. like a baby. a baby that fights to go forward, fights back. babysoft skin made rough by rite. the milk that becomes the lotion that becomes the comet. hardened work. man-u-all. the baby brought into a strange environment with no light to count on, no teacher to stay with. why? why? why? sobbing in space.

Codrus cries forever.


Fin(n and Rey)

Monday, March 7, 2016


R.I.P. Bud Collins, without you i'd still be into baseball. and i'd still be wearing bermuda shorts.

1. have you ever devoted an entire day to sex and sexual activity (with breaks for eating)? planned or spontaneous? any kinky fun? i took a break for eating and the food was so good i forgot about the orgy. Taco Bell.

2. have you had simultaneous sex with two or more in a private residence? know them well or a setup casj encounter? this begs the question: is the Playboy Mansion grotto private or public?

3. have you gone out in public wearing an anal plug or vibrator device? YES, MY PENIS, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

sometimes i forget to plug it in before i leave my meditation chamber. my cyberbrain's been scattered lately.

4. have you ever fantasized about or practiced orgasm control/denial? it's called edging. but you can only do it if you're edgy. only Chris Rock can do it, only Lenny Bruce, Steven Wright, Bill Hicks, and Hannibal Buress. Jim Gaffigan can't do it................................................................................Jim Gaffigan can only do it with a hot pocket.

5. do you like to be called dirty names during sex? what names get you off the best? you dirty bird, you pulchritudinous phoenix, your plumage is so pretty, so hot, i wanna feed you my worms, burn baby burn

BONUS: the confessional is open---confess anything you want, sexual or not: i do want to get something off my chest. all this butter.


Friday, March 4, 2016



* Vault Boy: doctor! do not saw off my leg with a cartoony bendy saw!
doctor: why not? it's infected.
Vault Boy: the Smurf Village is growing on it!

* Vault Boy: the radiation made me grow two legs. i now have three legs. that makes it harder for me to run. let me take some more radiation so i can grow an even four legs.

* doctor: what are you putting in your body, Vault Boy?
Vault Boy: some of those grilled hot dogs from Burger King.
doctor: Burger King hot dogs? take some more radiation, it's healthier. and drink plenty of water.
Vault Boy: a doctor once told me that our bodies are mostly water. that's why i stay away from water, i don't want to drown.

* doctor: that crab has grown. crab is a good source of protein. the more it grows, the more protein it has.
Vault Boy: the crab ate me before i could eat it.
doctor: now you know how the crab feels. the crab has always wanted to eat vault boys but never had a big enough mouth to do it.

* Vault Boy: i just put my foot in my mouth...

* doctor: ever try hula-hooping to stay in shape?
Vault Boy: my priest tells me all that gyrating is the path to Satan.

* doctor: okay, Vault Boy, you have to run this obstacle course as fast as you can. if you don't, you die.
Vault Boy: i've always wanted to be on American Gladiators.

R.I.P. Hawk

* doctor: Vault Boy! that yellow puddle you're waist-deep in is not a swimming pool!
Vault Boy: is the water yellow from radiation?
doctor: no, that's not radiation...

* narrator: hey, guys!
doctor: hi there! where have you been?
narrator: auditioned for BoJack Horseman's next season...


happy weekend

Wednesday, March 2, 2016


where am i going? how can i know if i've gotten there? what defines definition? what if there are no details? what if it's all just the curtain? if it keeps going forever, when does it stop? will you be there with me? not at the end but in the beginning? will you be there to hold my hand through the darkness? i'm scared. my tongue shivers. i do not deserve this. yet i was granted this. i squandered it all in a chat room. i thought it was paper, not wrapping paper. i am weak. i am nothing without you. come to me. please. push my dust along not with a broom but with a panhandle.

Codrus: how long has it been? a billion years?

Cotard: or a second. it's the same thing. i think we miss our station.

Codrus: i am inside the train with you, the dining car, with the one cracked window. the napkins are the drapes and we eat the flowers in the bowl. you are sitting next to me. it's a nice spring day outside, there's a chill in the water and sprites in the sky.

Cotard: i need you by my side. with every line we divert from a new creation is born. we must accept all lines, we can draw anything but we often do not. it's just cos we haven't tried before. a conclusion starts the conversation. a picture is just a picture.

Codrus: if only it was as simple as dying. but it never is. it continues. life is a school. lives are a fool. we are caught in a withering whirlwind. i see it now. i see the circle closing in. getting tighter. taking away our breath. crushed by complexity. we can only joke.

Cotard: mama sees it, too. but she is a woman. women are different. o woman i know not of. their legs are branches and their breasts the birch. she opens for her offspring, feeding them her long flaxenseed hair. she isn't the hole, she's not the circle, she is the cycle.

Codrus: did you feel that? the bump. all of my rectangles, all of my dark rooms, they're connected front to back in one long neverending train, all of reality is train cars. we're ascending...

Cotard: we're descending. we're going up until there is no more track. then we have no other option but to go down. it's not a train, it's a roller coaster.

Codrus: black mountain. black snow. black lake. it was always night. the light makes this clear.

Cotard: i visited Moby today. he told me he was a renaissance man. wore many hats. worked as a waiter at a Gaston theme restaurant. worked as a cameraman for CNN. he was offering me the job.

Codrus: did you take it? that's a lot of commitment.

Cotard: i'm wearing the conductor hat ain't i? i broke the golden lever on my first day on the job. turned it to COMPLICATEDNESS while i was cleaning it and it severed right off. like a lopped torso.


Codrus: it would look better on me. rookie mistake. you noob. i used the jagged end of the broken lever, fashioned it into a harpoon. speared Moby. he took me on a nantucket sleighride. told me i had done this to him before. i didn't remember. he rushed me along until i recognized the shack. i don't know it was the shack, i am only able to remember things. i saw the famous hill. but it was different. the ocean was milk. i tried to pick a piece of wave, i tried to eat the water, but it dribbled out. the milk tasted like my blood. i took out one of my all of them Red Strings of Fate and dropped a line, plumbed the depths of the sea and something bit. i realed it in. it was a plum. Moby caught the Grand Oak in his giant maw. he delicately pushed it out with his tongue and replanted it in the watertable. the fellas were dining on broccoli spears with their heads cut off and a loaf of burnt toast divided equally amongst them. you asked if i could see, remember? then you said, "here's rijstevlaai in your eye!" the last thing i saw was Cigarette Smoking Man enjoying his Manchester tart. but i do remember one thing: i tried to swim in the ocean like a proper human living on a planet, but the ocean was one big white whale, with thistles for teeth. Moby plucked the mouth to form his sweeper. he returned to work on time at the pizza place. he put on his belt with the greased rag and the spraybottle hanged. i saw him as i entered the shack, he was in the corner looking at the Raya dating app on his watch. i asked him what was new on urbandictionary. he kicked my dick.

Cotard: the whale is Atalan. i bumped heads with him and Kenyatta, three-way bump, triangle. it's all come full circle. we shared a private moment. it was beautiful.

Codrus: nothing's private anymore. it's all just human. it's all pie in the sky. it's all sky. the pie is a lie. because there is no truth. i can do anything with a thought. it's all so, already. it's not eternal, it's endless. it's effervescent but not bubbly. it's an ale for an ailment but it's never the apple. it's always cider, never juice. i race as fast as i can, sometimes with my feet, sometimes with my wings, but then i remember that i'm on a hamster wheel. there is cruelty in the circle. what did Moby want?

Cotard: he and the guys were having lunch. there is only one spot in the parking lot for the company van, the back of the last train car. have you been there?

Codrus: when i was applying for the job. there is but one step to get you onto the last car. it is shaped like a slice of pizza. it's made of glass. i was so close.

Cotard: i didn't get in the first time. but then i remembered. i saw my mom. and i saw my wife. i stepped onto it and voila! i was hired.

Codrus: i would kill for a 9-to-5. i need structure. i couldn't remember. there wasn't a thing there. i never had parents. never had anyone. i made it all up. we are all self-contained boxes. but we all need someone to deliver us.

Cotard: it's not a pizza slice, it's a wedge of cheese. the key is: you must contemplate your future while simultaneously remembering where you came from. that is how to live life. i broke the glass and i broke the glass of Sid's phone. he was finally free.

Codrus: your aunts are slaves. tech is trite. the train is the trip. your aunts are funny. they're trying to keep up with all the new alien pop culture. they're editing all the wikis of the worlds. they told me yesterday they hadn't seen the history sections. i had never heard of this before. each page has a history block, but at the top of the block there's a separate link to a more extensive history of the history. they have yet to clear their history.

Cotard: once they were happy with the Kardashians.

Codrus: look at me. i'm the once and future king. look at what i have transformed. i'm not a bird, i'm a man. a green man. i'm hunched over. i have a weird face. two tails. spiral spine. i eat my own kind only because i haven't discovered pizza. i never digest so they stay with me. i breathe out of my heart. i see with my mind. diphallia. one eye. but my entire head is that one eye. webbed fingers and toes. i have one finger and one toe. and a stylish hat.

Cotard: i wish for that, too. we all do. there must be someentity more. it's so damn lonely.

Codrus: i tried to write down the music in my soul. i took a pencil but it flamed out. the ashes permanently stuck to the page. that's not what i intended to write. that's not what i meant.


Cotard: Fuerza tells me her dreams. she dreams of her sons. and she dreams of women. she dreams of women for her sons. she showed me the jacket she got in the mail, fashioning it off for me, twirling around, showing off the logo on the patch. she contributes to all the wildlife funds and federations, save the rainforest, protect bears, keep the streams stock of fish.

Codrus: finally a worthy cause. i'm finna send money. if i can ever locate their website. type the right letters. words don't have power, letters do. computers have made things so complicated. i'd be easier to go jump in a lake and encircle the fish and hug them and save them that way.

Cotard: she dreams of me on the bed. but i'm not her boy anymore, i have a beard. my feet reach the other end of the headboard. but i still sleep the same way. i still dirty my blanket. just last night i woke up to find the portrait of my dad had been knocked over my nightstand. not the way to start your morning. that's not a good sign. the hanger i use for all eight of my trackpants finally broke today. trackpants fell everywhere. all over the floor. in a misshapen mound. in a messy pile. a clump. a lump. not a good sign. i hung them up on my second hanger full of pants but that broke, too. too much lean. these are not good signs.

Codrus: let me guess, she told you that it was okay. that these things happen. that it was their time. and then she took out the glider from the hangar. i see her flying.

Cotard: si. she told me she saw my wife playing the electric violin alongside Josh Groban. she told me she loves animals. she's always loved the animals...

Daniella Monet: and how do you two know each other?

Codrus: and then your cats bit you hello.

Cotard: i don't get it. i'm safe and sound in my bed. in my room, snug and tucked in. is this the real life? is this still the train car? is this another dream? when will all the dreams hit dirt? how do i know? how can i stretch further? i was never a person. i've never experienced that ache. i never connected to love. i left everyone confused and dazed. i muddied up the waters. i made sure to make my business a blur. i never sat down and thought about it, all these years as a monk. my sister left this afternoon and i forgot to wish her well. say goodbye.

Codrus: i don't want to be me. i don't want to be this race, this face, this body, long ears, small butt, or big butt, a pear, this skin color, this sex, this orientation, this species, an asp, four letters, or a number, this set of predetermined factors set loose into a determineless universe, ripe and random, rarin' to go nowhere. this box of flesh and water. does the hurt haunt or does it just hover? when was the last time i laughed involuntarily? loud out. we've only just scratched the skeleton. this box. this one box. i want to be..................other

Fuerza: shit just got real. this is your real room, mijo. you're in it. i'm touching you. it's late at night. my mind is absent. i'm disorientated and disoriented. i'm babbling. but i heard a sound and i knew it was you. oh shit,


Fuerza falls off the step and Cotard catches her in his arms.