Friday, April 29, 2016



* i will never consider this the final piece of Childrens Hospital. that show had a series finale that can only be described as epic, watch it sometime.

* J. Geils Band: i'm also gonna go ahead and pretend "Love Stinks" doesn't sound like "Smells Like Teen Spirit"...

* call 867-5309 to order. ask for Jenny.

* Tim Heidecker freaks out and goes crazy better. the thing with Tim is, the anger is so raw and real, you never know if it's acting.

* filmed entirely on location at Deepak Chopra's white house

* Obama had the same teleprompter troubles.

* never use your semen to determine anything about you.

* Giles's cowboy hat has holes in it to keep out the flies.

* the "bobby" blooper was said in real life then rewritten into the script. blows your mind i know.

* boom mic operated by dirty Bernie millennial

* nepotism. it gets you in the end.

* Budweiser clydesdales don't poop.

* despite the squeezing tits, not Ron Jeremy

* tasty snacks.................and the stuff on the audition table looks good, too

* that is Kenny Rogers

* Giles: it's not a bounce to my gait, i permanently fucked up my knee pretending i was Tony Hawk.
stand-in: when you were a kid?
Giles: yesterday.

* in acting, there is no such thing as too big. (thank you, college acting professor with the hippie hair who changed my life but whose name escapes me at the moment. i'll pour one out to you after i'm done here. if only i had stayed in college long enough to audition for Hamlet 'n Da Hood the next semester like i was supposed to...)

* it's easier with the star breathing down your neck. we'll take the star out in editing.

* why is the green-screen green?

* always quit before you're fired. take the money and run.

* when you gotta water, you gotta water.

* hotter with the mustache

* fake pool, like every pool in L.A.

* no matter how hard you try, you can't fire God.


happy weekend. namaste.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016


Talia always had no collar on, it's how she came. she was curious. she was cat extra. she'd sniff every last corner of every inch of new room, and old room. she'd bend every blind. so much racket i could never concentrate on my project. life's a breeze, huh? for i simply can't work unless it's totally quiet (and it never is on planet earth, in our mother's bosom). i can't produce unless under extreme right circumstances. Trinity hissed upon their first contact but later hugged. i was afraid they'd wrestle each other to death if i left those two alone together, now i'm afraid they'll fall in love and wrestle and have awkward babies and leave me. i replaced the venetian blinds to my room and set up a nice thick yet thin beige sheet that acts as a better cover for the sun. but that doesn't stop Talia. she jumps onto my dresser and onto the sill in front of the curtain, outside but protected by the closed window, and stares out onto the sunswept street. she preens for her audience. at first it was cars. then it was people. then it was people in cars distracted by the cute kitten staring at them from the strange mansion up on the hill quiet with no other activity. she tries to look up at the sun but can't and looks away. so cute. she stretches to her furthest leg fingernail and rolls around and gets on her back. like any actress she knows the value of a good suntan. neighbors come from far and wide, across county lines, to take in the show. i should charge. real tickets. she's a better actor than i'll ever be. she draws crowds, she gets fannies in the streets. i'm firing my agent. i don't have an agent. i don't even have a sense of agency. she's got a hook that i don't: she's a cat.

Talia: i hope i don't cause any accidents but i am that beautiful.

i'm not feeling like myself today. perhaps that's a good thing. i am drowning in...fear. this messy water ain't cutting it. i need something stronger.

Talia: warn me again about the bags, fratrem, as i warm.

Trinity: it's no laughing matter, sororis. respect your elders, don't make fun of them. amicus can't help himself. he gets all buzzy with the water he drinks. but i understand, humans need a lot of water to survive. he swooshes those clear plastic bags. it's terrifying, especially the one in the morning cos you're rubbing the mouse dream from your eyes, sprinkling the gold dust out of 'em, and haven't yet prepared yourself to face the day. i hide under the secret place. you'll learn of it when you get older. if he scoops you up in one of those bags he'll take you to the pound! he does the dogcatcher's job for him! that's what my previous owner did. it's strange cos in every other instance amicus is a perfectly reasonable gentleman. all for water. i get it.

Talia: eh, dogs are alright. it's 2016, love comes in many more forms. uh huh, okay, first T. you just tell me when i'm old enough to have i old enough now? how bout now?

Trinity: i ain't playing the radio, missy. show's over, folks. time to lower the curtain. no midnight matinee. exit the stage gracefully, diva down south, put your head down, and curl to sleep. the amount of rubbernecking you've caused i swear i gotta be glue to stop ya.

Talia: you lucky you ain't a horse. i've already slept, all night on amicus's face. dude doesn't snore, disappointing, i always need some air under me.

Trinity: you don't sleep during the day! that's crazy! kids today i tell you what. you stay here while i explore the large intricate series of dusty poorly-lit underground tunnels under this mansion that is accessible only by removing the electrical outlet under amicus's bed...

i stagger to the Store and i am blitzed. but the doors still open. i approach the bar.

me: my good man with the handlebar mustache and tattoo of a handlebar mustache on your forearm, your finest 1893.

checker: oh no, not today, buddy, not today. not in the mood. i hate my job. 1893?

me: if i had a time machine you think i'd be hanging out in this dump?

the stools are raised to such a height that i can safely converse to his bellybutton.

me: Pepsi the way it was originally meant to be drunk. the first formula. kola nut extract, real sugar. the water must be sparkling. ginger sure but do not taint it with rum. my tongue is wagging waiting for this ever since my salivary glands heard about it.

checker: don't carry it. and please move to the express lane, those behind you are getting angry. please don't force me to call...

me:...your manager? i know him. bald and beautiful. hired my sister many moons ago.

checker: no, another checker, they hate having to work as much as me.

me: understudies will always be jealous of the star. why can't i get my neighbors to love me? we are all fellow men. and fallen men. what good is a huge megastore if it doesn't carry your item? sigh...i'm saying the word sigh rather than sighing to provide dramaturg emphasis. just get me a lemonade and let me be jealous in peace.

checker: drama turd?

me: what can i say? he was an inspiration to me. granted he became more of one in the past week. i liked that he was solitary. he was no-drama obama in his personal life. but he lit it up on screen. he was saving it for the stage. that's how it should be. that's control, discipline, controversy. it's fun to read about actors whose romances were more dramatic than their script pages, but it's no fun to live it. that's how i want to be. to not do art but be art. oh what a treat to be famous for your art.

checker: hey i agree, i use our unsold tabloids for linen for my pet swamphen.

me: i remember back in the 80s when he was big. it's all kind of fuzzy but i do remember a rather dashing bare-chested mini man with a seductive mustache and tempting black mane. he was on a motorcycle and the large caption on the cover read, "Would You Trust Your Daughter With This Man?" didn't understand the true force behind those words then but i ken the weight now, i have a daughter named Talia. his secrecy made him alluring. he had curves in all the right places on the street for his motorcycle to cycle around, slippery when wet/dangerous when dry, vroom vroom, from the wrong part of town, the other side of the tracks when trains were still a thing. his only crime was being sexy. he went from bad news to preaching the Good News. he truly converted when he grew that third eye. i'd make the heart sign with my hands but man is that getting cheesy.

checker: valdastico cheddar is in the cheese aisle, next to the cauliflower medley. the difference between us and Trader Joe's is we don't sell products that are weird for the sake of it. if it doesn't taste good, don't matter what exotic name you slap on it. we got yoohoo in yellow boxes, one sip through that bendy straw and you're transported back to AYSO soccer practice. we sell newspapers. mostly our version of the Fearless Flyer. see we don't mess with the classics, we don't change to be hip. we recognize that in the end, nostalgia is all we got.

me: remember when i worked here? it was just yesterday. it was just now in fact.

checker: must have been before my time.

me: impossible, there is no time. i could work here, i'm just like you, like everybody. i'm just another you, you're just another me, we all must come together as one big family.

i start to stock the Shake 'N Bake coating boxes. well i start to knock the Shake 'N Bake coating boxes, flipping each one down to the floor. that's my method of taking stock. i learned counting on Sesame Street.

on the tv screen next to the deli there isn't 24/7 advertising of hot meats. there is Bernie, unusually:

Bernie: my fellow college americans, and puerto rico, and cuba, thank you for your energy. but how hard is it to get a ride to the voting station. i mean really, take the damn bus. ride your bike there, you're young! but that is a matter of renewable energy. i won tonight because of you...............wait what?! i only won Rhode Island?! oh fuck this shit, i should be shuffleboarding on a cruise right, no, fuck it, i'm serious, fuck my life, i'm too old for this shit...

me: clean up on aisle me.

i blacked out for what seemed like hours but was really minutes. that was the only thing that made sense. the manager took pity on me. well, he realized i was related to his most model employee and couldn't believe it all the way on the drive in his Lincoln without the gullwing doors to the beach where he unceremoniously dumped me in the middle of the third breaker shore where all of the tourists gathered to peek under my shorts and take in the local color. i had to dry up, sand, i get it. instead of throwing my ass in juvie, i am a kid at heart after all, the local community of the county took favor with my situation of being a sad sack and gave me a sack and big fork and put me on beach cleanup detail. my drill instructor used to be a vet.

drill instructor: alright you maggots, justify your existences by saving the maggots! or getting rid of the maggots so other endangered species can know what it's like to not have to live as the last of their kind. when you're the sole remaining survivor, it changes you. life is never fancyfree again, you take on the burden of responsibility. you feel powerless. i never asked to be spiderman. i hate spiders! i will never travel by plane again. that's crazy. this isn't coastal cleanup, it's conscience. YOU!

me: me?

drill instructor: you're the only one here, aintcha?

me: i am not here.

drill instructor: look at my eyes when i'm talking to you. my tits are down there. it's rude not to stare into someone's windows to the soul and gaze deeply into the abyss. all afternoon YOU will be hunting nurdles, mermaids' tears.

me: yes! *i raise my fist in victory like i had won the inevitable World War III* i love mermaids! i want to fuck mermaids! i want to do anal in a mermaid's tail! now THAT's getting tail! thank you for giving me the fantasy one!

drill instructor: kid, you have your two fingers up my nose.

me: it's the V for Victory sign. thought i was picking my nose.

at the edge where the tourists don't go, cos they don't know, i spot a nice-looking huge tree of broad banyan branches. i think it's famous if i recall. it has the right to be alone and have everyone stare at it, it's that pretty. i snoop around for shells and bits of trash around the bottom where its moss skirt covers up its majestic roots sucking up every last drop of the water that mother earth provides. i swear to god a face starts to form on the spot in the circular oak middle where a punctured heart was carved with a letter plus another letter.

Green Man: that wasn't with a knife. it was with a needle. that was your sister and her first boyfriend. didn't like him, he was too rough. but he made her tough. they would make out under me. but i could never make out what they were doing cos it was always dark. the stars never came over here. he thought he was more badass than he really was. bigshot. a honcho.

me: what is your appellation o guardian spirit of the evergreen?

Green Man: yes, exactly, Green Man, that's what i'm called in my wikipedia article. though my real name in my native tongue is so long and multilettered the locals can't pronounce it. i'm here to warn you of course, to give you a warning: there will be a reckoning for all you have done.

me: hu?

Green Man: yes, you.

me: who? me? but you see i am free. i am not a hu but a we. and i am not a hu-man for how can i be when i am not a man?

Green Man: Dr. Seuss subverted culture. he was subliminally teaching kids existentialism before their biblebelt parents could catch on. they were better prepared when Harry Potter came along. he was my favorite writer. i remember when famous recluse Emily Dickinson read one of his poems under my loving branches, the only time she ever ventured outside. you gotta be at the right place at the right time when that one day comes.

me: i thought i was your favorite writer. oh you are so good!

Green Man: mate why you sucking on my nose? that isn't sap, it's Bundaberg brewed drink, the cola that tastes like booze. that's the root beer, tastes like rum, huh? everyone knows Australians make the best soda. see that mermaid by the rocks yonder offshore there waving to you?

me: that's the mermaid i must meet to complete my quest. i must gather her tears in a vase glass bottle with a beige cork stopper.

Green Man: she's wearing a shell bra.

me: i feel not icky though she looks exactly like my sister. it's all love in the end.

Green Man: well it's weirding me out. i knew this woman when she was a baby. hurry up and end your journey.

i seem to walk on water as i glide toward the faint apparition of the woman with the tail who is my sister in metaphor. i'm not really, i'm drowning. water always saves the day. the cold rush jumpstarts my senses like a bad motorcycle carburetor and i'm wet in all the wrong places again. i've snapped out of it! and before me is a mermaid! she doesn't speak of course, that would be too easy. and breezy. and breathy. instead i merely hug her for an hour and cry. i collect my tears and ask her to bless them. eh, close enough, full metal jacket vet won't know the difference.

mermaid: but i can speak! this is modern times, man! i'm independent as you can see, it's just me here. i see all my fishes and none of them are riding bicycles. i see my squid squad. one of them plays a clarinet sadly. i'm supposed to lure longshoremen with my song but that song gets me so depressed i can't do my job. the sailors come up to me, put their popeye arms around me, and ask me to talk about my feelings without cursing once. attack my methods if you must but i only do this to find love.

me: want my big dinglehopper? i am sorry, sister, for everything in the future. this is my minority report mea culpa. my imaginary willy wonka golden ticket, redeem it in the future when i let you down. listen to Bjork's "Hidden Place" when i'm gone. i should have recognized you more, valued you, you are a special snowflake, you turned into a mermaid for frick sake. literally. thank you for everything. i will try to appreciate you more. but time is running out. and there is no try as green creatures tell me all the time. wisdom of the ancients, from beings who have been around a helluva lot longer than me.

mermaid: your sister forgives you. i can see into the future, i am more attuned to my animal side. my flipper is a time machine. Atalan was my first boyfriend. he was nice but he was always distracted with saving the world...

i don't know if the blue i'm seeing is sky or sea. i could use some coating right now.

at home, my sister pulls up to the mansion driveway as always with white boxes in her trunk. she opted not to get the gate for added security, to leave less for the neighbors to react to, to shake their noses at and sneeze from all the suspicion dust in the air. when there's more shade on the trees, life's a breeze. never give 'em secrets, that was rule numero uno she learned from her first love. she breathes a sigh of relief that i'm not there and under cover of day trying as inconspicuously as she can transfers the boxes back outside and forth inside the house and up the stairs to my room. she unscrews the bolts of the electrical outlet under my bed with the tips of her newly glued-on fingernails and removes the tiny panel. that leads to sliding into the creased outline of another larger panel and along another larger panel on top of that previous larger panel. she takes it all off. her heart is racing. punctured with pulsation.

inside the boxes: drugs.

Monday, April 25, 2016


see? wasn't doing known stuff all weekend boring? the blue guitarist and the blue woman up there are estranged husband and, not Kanye and Taylor Swift. doesn't Apostle Paul look like that one Hollywood actor? right? you can see it in the eyes. [SPOILER: answer: Mark Ruffalo, sorry, i can't type in the spoiler-blackout code on this old computer]. don't mind the photographer in the back, he's so skinny it's like he's not even there...

1. make three true we statements about your significant other? we love each other, we will last forever, and we are the protagonist in each other's play.

2. what is important for your lover to know? i'll be here for you always, unless time travel exists in which case my time clone will be there for you always while i check on something...

3. what is important for you to know about your lover? what's your name? no, your real name.

4. tell us two things that can make your sex life hotter:


Prince predicted internet dating.

5. which have you said to your significant other in the last 48 hours?:
a) love ya
b) appreciate you, boo (making a comeback, bae's getting old)
c) i AM mad atcha
d) you hurt my feels
e) let's fuck!


6. thinking of your current significant other/lover, are they
a) good enough until something better comes along
b) just what you need but still some tweaking/refining would make him/her a better fit
c) the person of your dreams, a keeper

it's like what Kelly Ripa called Mark Consuelos: the man of my dreams. we're just the cutest couple of tweakers around.

bonus: of all the people in your family, whose death would affect you the most? why? me. cos i'd be dead.


Friday, April 22, 2016



* Julianne Moore: i felt cold, so i put on an olive green velvet robe. i was looking at myself, playing Maude Lebowski on the tv screen.

* skeptic: don't believe it for a second. all coincidence. mass hysteria. see this? it's my favorite plaid shirt. i'm a lumberjack. and you know what they say about lumberjacks.

* corporate man: i dreamt something last night and it came true the next morning. don't worry, i know i look like Christian Bale in American Psycho but it's not what you think.

* woman: i was thinking of my childhood friend i haven't thought about for years and suddenly the phone rings and it's her. i was so excited to talk further about the paranormal but all she was interested in was borrowing a large sum of money from me so the conversation soured.

* scientist: i'm a scientist. i believe in stuff like wormholes and alien life on other planets. but ghosts? i ain't afraid of no ghosts.

* mother: my daughter didn't get on that school bus cos she's a delinquent truant who never goes to school. her antiestablishment streak saved her life. think about it. i am so proud of my daughter, i make sure to tell her that each time i visit her in juvie.

* corporate man: do you know what this means if even some of this unknown stuff is true? it means I AM GOD.

* skeptic: grunge? Nirvana? men with long hair? ridiculous!

* Diet 7 Up, now that's scary.

* narrator: Chicago. a man decides not to get on a flight. the plane crashes. flames everywhere. all dead. there was just something inside of him telling him not to board. it was his growling stomach. he was hungry for Chicago-style pizza which he had never had before. he was in Chicago after all, when would he get this chance again? the pizza was good but it took so long to prepare that by the time it was served it was cold.

* Britain. a woman has a horrible premonition of schoolchildren and coal and death. the woman is deemed a witch by her pastor and banned from her home village forever.

* northern Texas. a UFO is reported in the sky by at least a dozen people using their beautiful oldskool phones with the coil cord. all dismissed by the local sheriff when he discovers one of the callers is Fox Mulder wearing a ten-gallon cowboy hat.

* a mother at her table at her house feels a sharp pain in her right hand. it's her daughter's pain as the daughter touches a hot pan. the daughter attends college on the other side of the country. the mother calls her daughter up on the coil phone to tell her to stop making ramen when the mother is doing the taxes. also, the mother flashes the West Side sign which makes the daughter attending college on the East Coast feel bad.

* a visitor points his divining rod at Stonehenge. JUST THEN suddenly a lightning bolt from the mystical monument strikes the visitor, electrocuting him. when he comes to the visitor is mad he still hasn't found any water. he's also mad that he's just a man and not a visitor from another planet.

* like you, i saw these commercials late at night and they freaked the hell out of me. which begs the question: why was a young boy allowed to stay up so late? this turned me on to Unsolved Mysteries and the rest if history. i may have wet the bed each week but i learned. besides, i always wanted a swimming pool.

* i wish i had ESP. but i don't.



happy weekend. explore the unknown this weekend. the unknown is more interesting than the known.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016


my world is crumbling all around me, but i've got my cats...

see that's the thing. time doesn't exist in my mansion, my sister's mansion, it's been sucked up by the vacuum i pass each morning to give Trinity a real toy to play with. people race out the door to work and i race to the bathroom upstairs where it's so quiet you can hear the bar of soap dissolve into that weird slice of shiv. i wonder if i should take a peek inside my sister's medicine cabinet? that's not something i'm naturally inclined to do but it's what everyone does on tv sitcoms with couches and innocent commercials for Robitussin before robotripping was a thing. Trinity like his amicus races to the garage, the one not quite up to code and with the radioactive dryer, to the dark recess of the furthest bowel, where the white sheet is laid out on the couch.

Trinity: close the door, amicus, and don't turn on any artificial light. what you consider dark i consider damp and cool.

me: i will, my pet.

i look out onto the terrace to the unfinished wood paneling of the deck that looks better that way. further on the coos of the doves to the side can only be heard but seen is the field of beautiful flowers radiating the sun atop their shimmering yellowheads. i don't know what these flowers are called but there's something bland about them. an orange tabby that basically looks like Trinity but is a big fatty approaches the screen waving his paw scaring Trinity half to death! in the commotion i don't realize that the one yowling with such a plaintive heartbreak is in fact Trinity and not the stranger.

Trinity: MEEEEEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWW not cool, i'm not ready to make friends. i'm still recovering from my traumatic experience, addicts need time to heal. get out of here, pudgy puss, amicus is mine!

fat cat: well i never. i've conducted myself friendly and calm. you rich bitches are all the same.

my sister hurriedly grabs the vacuum attachment from this morning and scurries the intruder to jump over the wall and into a pack of snarling dogs. i feel bad, really bad. oh, the dogs are divided into another quadrant of the complicated system of gardens around here. fat cat's safe...for now. okay but i still feel bad. just before my sister "rescued" us from rabies or whatever fat cat rolled onto his back begging for his belly to be scratched, just like Trinity does. i think i may have even discerned a faint scratch on his belly. poor bugger just wanting love like any other poor feline soul in this cruel world, no different from Trinity save for a fool or a sap lugging him by the collar to the animal shelter. sometimes it's good to have a collar on for awhile. who decides who gets lucky?

Trinity: don't trust him, amicus, he's not fat cos he eats well, he's all blowed up from street disease!

i can't help but have "Stray" from Wolf's Rain playing that hard guitar in my head, running on a loop. see who those wolves turned out to be? you can never tell.

me: whoa, didn't notice you there! when did you get home, sis?

my sister: it's closing time. i'm not working there one more second than i have to, i'm the boss. do you own a watch?

me: yes but there's no point. time doesn't exist. i am proof of this.

sister: why is your breath so rotten?

me: uh, i don't brush my teeth, remember? artist thing. i downed a whole roll of mint Life Savers earlier to compensate.

sister: *sigh* you're at that age when i can't tell you what to do anymore. besides, i'm the younger sibling, this is just weird.

DAY HITS and the only project i remember doing is eating and drinking. much easier to remember than the finer details of plot points for a script for television. having to remember characters' motivations, making sure they never stray off course of the bible so butthurt fanboys at conventions won't ream you one online. why is this a thing? i have a feeling "butthurt" is gonna get real old real fast. i dunno, but when you rely on instinct, not getting bogged down in a bog in the forest but rather seeing the trees around the bog in the forest, life is easier.

i look at the same spot on the terrace but it's raining this time. hard. biblically. it's weird how weather changes from day to day. i remember buying a cagoule in junior college but i don't wear it cos it reminds me of college. but i do go outside. it's the only way to see the strange angle the water hits the inconsistent floor of the deck to form a brilliant semicircle arch of spout.

me: whaddaya think, boy?

Trinity goes under it and washes himself off properly for the first time, the way nature intended. he opens his mouth but closes his teeth so they can get a good cleaning from the pressurized abrasion.

Trinity: it's a water rainbow. i like the water, i'm not your usual cat.

me: that's for sure (i think).

two things happen to me when i see all that flowing water: i suddenly recognize that there's been an easier way to clean the scoop this whole time! i don't need to scrape off the hardened poo right then and there and break my fingers, i can leave the scoop dunked in a large bucket of hot water overnight. come to it morning and i'll find the scoop pristine and clean and free from the faintest hint of brown. i call my sister.

me (at home): do we have a large bucket i can use?

sister (at work): a bucket of fuckit? no. well, clear out some items in the garage, nobody goes in there, it's a death trap, fuck those items, toss 'em out. remember to lock the shed where you store that bucket overnight, don't want fat cat to get a free drink.

me: cos it'd be poisonous for him, right?

sister: right right.

the second thing that happens to me when i see water is i have a drink.

Trinity: amicus is getting comfortable again on his bed. he is swigging that messy water seems that last sip was a bit too bold. now amicus is not relaxed at all, he's thinking hard, he's planning his future, he's running around the bedroom trying to scale the ceiling like i do. now he stops for a catnap. and he gets up a second later, still technically a catnap, and starts to bawl his eyes out. he's matching the outside.

i call my sister again.

sister: why you cryin'? the only crying i like is that Aerosmith song. i don't have time to cry.

me: i dunno, *ghastly throat clear* i thought too much this time. i haven't been feeling good for awhile. i'm lonely when Trinity goes hide. all my stories turn to shit upon first keystroke. i need a keygen that writes it for me. i got mad ideas but i'm too mad to concentrate and transcribe, transform my thought into action. my body and i well we bout ready to have a problem.

sister: i've noticed. i'm the only one who's able to. i'm not hearing your usual heehees. cheer up, things won't go your way, ever. you gotta deal with it and move on. you got Trinity, always remember that. if you don't remember me. use some of those rags in the garage for tissues. love ya but ya gotta stop calling here. if i lose my job we both be cryin'. hold on one more day and i'll cook you some supper tomorrow night i promise. night off. or the start of my vacation. i think.

me: my new bed, the check hasn't cleared yet, right?

sister: what?

that's when i decided. i needed more fluff in my life. as long as i had my brood i could face the world. i needed another cat. cats always cheer me up. i call the bank or some place and cancel the order for my bed. i think. with that money saved i'll get another cat from the shelter. i run outside without any raingear and take the bus, praying that it won't skid off the slick roads.

busdriver: hey skookum!

i recognize the voice though i dare not's the vet.

me: fired?

busdriver: yep. don't ask. but at least i know the route to the shelter.

me: so, can you talk to me about shots? perhaps i shouldn't ask.

busdriver: Trinity is all caught up. i remember you guys, you were the only patients who were ever nice to me.

me: for a new kitten.

busdriver: what are you, crazy?

i get there and retrace my steps to the glassed arena waiting for my next love to emerge. she surprises me. she is a black cat, the one i wanted originally. she seems to have gotten smaller since last i checked in. they tell me to hold her but she looks like the Master. i stumble around before finally sitting down and cradling this new precious ball of fuzz in my arms. OMG! IT IS THE MASTER!

the Master: no i am not the Master. i am your new daughter Talia. but i am the Master cos the Master is an idea. but don't you see how cuddly i am? there's nothing to fear, i'm all natural, baby. heehee. you're the one discriminating. that's pussy prejudice. you see Talia's skin color and you assume she's evil. for shame. black cat lives matter.

me: deeply insensitive.

the Master: you?

me: no, you. when did truth, justice, and the American way get boiled down to a meme?

the Master: it's the American way. we're all just cats, all of us.

Talia mews like a cute newborn baby to break up the tension and announce her presence. otherwise i would not sense her cos she weighs less than a feather. i turn her over to scratch her belly. she nips at my finger and gargles like a bird. that's when i notice she's not all black but has white spots.

the Master (cat smile): oh so she is one of the lucky ones after all.

of course i take her, putting it on the longest payment plan possible to freeze any suspicion on my sister's credit card.

me: and a couple of new sturdy silverplated water and food bowls. should be free, the one you gave me for Trinity chipped upon first contact at home. no? oh. put it on my tab.

MEANWHILE Trinity is afrenzied over amicus's sudden disappearance into thin air.

Trinity: the Master took him! i'll have to bite the bullet and talk to other animal friends.

Trinity opens the front door and scampers out to the only place his senses direct him towards: off the scent of his daily food in the bowl each day he's able to trace his way to the Store. the sliding doors only need movement. there in the frozen aisle is a proud japanese spitz of stature, guide dog to a blind man in a Giants cap with his stomach on a gurney struggling for peas. Trinity is able to look directly into the man's eyes cos the gurney is too low to the ground so the man is at cateye-level. and Trinity doesn't have amicus's problems.

Trinity: working dog, a credit to your race.

spitz: that's racist. see? don't believe the hype. turn off media. dogs can be noble, too. we're not just a bunch of barking bitches. like my train and leash and official-looking seeing-eye dog embroidered saddle?

Trinity: impressive.

spitz: i close my eyes as i guide my master so i can experience what he does. so what was all that this morning? i'm the Master for fuck sake. you coulda treated me better.

Trinity: *shocked cat emoji* you're the Master?!! that orange tabby fuckiot?

spitz: hey hey watch the language. the youth today i swear. you'll get old someday, too. no respect for the old guard. yes, fat cat as you so eloquently dubbed me, that's my true form, my final form, my true self, my actual body. it's a bit embarrassing so i don't bring it out often, i like to remain in the shadows, it's cooler. i thought as a fellow orange tabby you'd understand. anyway don't let your rude happen again. you know i'm doing this for your own good, right? i'm taking you guys away before. you smell it, don't you?

Trinity: yes, i've been smelling it for ages. every morning it hits hard. i warn amicus but he doesn't listen to me, he's been in his own world lately. gomenasai. *Trinity bows his head but it's so quick the spitz doesn't notice* you deserve something grander than cheap squeaky toys. what were they thinking with these knockoffs? i mean you have a squeaky bone, a squeaky mouse, even a squeaky waterbowl. the other two-leg tried to pawn me off with this fake water! we like real water, we're on this planet, too.

spitz: don't go in the pet aisle here, they sell fake rubber squeaky bottles of water. you know my real job, right? i'm the CEO of FIJI Water, the only water untouched by man. i'm in charge. it's a secret like any good company's board room is. i know what we like. i know what drives us. i know what makes us salty. and thirsty.

Trinity rummages around the store looking for a proper bone. he sniffs the hot meat tray but it's a fireplace to him so he never gets close enough to touch it, only close enough to enjoy the warmth of the heatlamps marinating the potato wedges stuffed with sawdust and hardened ribs and gooeyless mac 'n' cheese and stoned nuggets. he hops outside to find an honest-to-goodness real big bone sticking out of the torn trashcan liners. he bites the bone to make sure it's solid and gold.

Trinity places the bone into spitz's mouth tongue to tongue.

spitz: thanks, Trinity-san. smells good. feels good. tastes good, good enough to eat, not just lick to sharpen my teeth so i can face the world. it almost tastes...human.

Trinity: yes, it smells familiar.

the pupils in the spitz's eyes dilate, they are in a trance, sleeping though the lids remain open. spitz's jaw locks tightly onto the bone leaving no room to bite down more. a clamp all around. the dog drools more than usual.

Trinity: you okay, boss?

spitz (like a zombie): our noses are time machines.

Trinity: yeah i know.

Trinity rushes over the river and through the woods to home. he spots amicus at the driveway...sweeping it! Trinity is so astonished he stiffens his body up to form a human arrow, or a cat arrow, with his newly-uncut left paw the arrowhead projectile pointing at this extraordinary scene.

Trinity: amicus i knew i'd find you! you're stronger than any black cat! i knew you'd never leave me. i hoped and hoped and hopped and you appeared. when have you ever swept the leaves off a driveway?

me: never. i've never thought to sweep the leaves off a driveway. i've seen it on shows but i never did it. but this is a special occasion. gotta soften her up if i have any shot.

amicus doesn't do a great job of it stumbling around with the broom like that.

sister pulls up with an unusual smile and surreptitiously steals away into the night of the garage a dotted white box from the trunk of her towncar. she prepares a meal mom used to make, Shake 'N Bake-coated pork with yellow chicken Rice-A-Roni and thai tea. and brussel sprouts.

me: (halfheartedly rapping) havin' a roni, pew pew pew pew *i spit into my knuckles*

sister: just like mom used to make. hey please turn off the tv while we dine, i can't stand any more wall-to-wall election coverage. i need a distraction. i need a romance.

me: no, thank you, just like YOU used to make. now.

sister: you okay? you're all wavy. have a seat. you don't have to eat standing up.

me: thank you. you sound just like...nevermind. i'm doin' well just really fucking tired. but enough about the republican elephant in the room. i'm voting for Somnambulianism. how was your day?

sister: heard about Joanie Laurer. sad. why do the good ones get treated so rotten? i don't refer to her as Chyna, that's a stage name, i'm more into real people. and i hate fake wrestling but she was the kindest soul on this teetering planet. we need more sweet. i think she was in the wrong profession, she should have been a priest. truly a wrestler with heart. each week we lose another bright light and our world dims. i don't believe in the law of three but i do believe in the law of averages and it urges me to become successful before it's too late. Doris Roberts, i think she was a bit jealous of Betty White. they don't make 'em like that anymore. i want to be a brassy broad when i grow up.

there's an ever-so-slight rumble of an aftershock that's felt by no one in the room.

see when you're a writer like me you can more easily cover up any slurred words in your speech. you just make up new words to replace them and it sounds literary.

sister: little ol' me? my day? thanks for asking. busy but i liked this chore. want another piece of meat? they're juicy. gonna finish those sprouts? i'm flexitarian after all.

me: i'm not used to fresh meat. it's so good, so tasty, so salty, never had the pretzel coat before, had the chicken and the pork. need a fish one i can feed Trinity. the meat just falls off the bone.

sister: that's cos it's boneless. better that way. like with KFC, get the nashville tenders, not the bones.

i take one bite of the brussel sprout. i've never actually eaten brussel sprouts before. don't know if it was because i didn't like them, or thought i wouldn't, or because all the kids on tv hated brussel sprouts., this little tree tastes like shit so i guess i didn't like them after all.


it's a penitent mew this time, making up for past transgressions.

Trinity without provocation bites my sister on her ankle, leaving a quite prominent two bite marks. he storms away and takes an impromptu nap under the other end of the dining table on an unoccupied chaircushion in a huff.

well, no provocation that any of us ol' puny humans can see.

sister: dammit! do i need a band-aid?

me: no, you're fine, you're just bleeding.

sister: your friend is a frickin' furry vampire! should have named him Twilight as punishment. anyway, as i was sayin, now i'm in a bad mood, you're rubbing off on me. now i don't want to do this anymore, don't feel like it anymore...but i have a surprise for you. oh the insane things we do for family.

me: you're always full of surprises, ain'tcha, missy? well i am gonna out-surprise you for the first time in our lives, see how you like it, see how it feels.

my sister goes to the garage to pick up the white box containing fat cat. she gave in and had a heart underneath all that cold profession after all. i totter my way up the stairs to my bedroom where Talia is being hidden. i stumble upon her licking her privates and i scoop her up and stumble back down the stairs.

me: i named her after mom...

sister: see? i'm not all corporate stone...

we show our surprise cats to each other at the same time, my sister and i holding our respective cats the same way, by the cat armpits, with the cat legs and cat tails dangling in the breeze. my sister has a harder time carrying the weightload of hers.

sister: i give up. you win again. black cat is cuter than fat cat.

Trinity (out loud): the Master ain't gonna like that!

Monday, April 18, 2016


i feel ya, miss, donuts have that same effect on me, too.

1. have you ever had sex in front of other people? what were the circumstances? yes. with my lover. we had sex.

2. you are invited to Adult Show & Tell. what do you show?


sorry, i read that as Adult Swim. it's Monday, it's been a bad week.

3. what part of your body do you like to show off? my essence...

4. what part of the human body do you like looking at the most? eyes. did you know when you look into another's eyes, you're actually seeing a reflection of your own eyes? unless your eyes are brown and theirs are blue.

5. when you watch porn, what is it you most enjoy seeing? cum length. it's a sport that takes discipline. you have to shoot your white rainbows in just such a way to get maximum distance. the current record is held by Pedro "Peen Scene" Sanchez (pictured above) from Majorca island, Spain, or "PS" when he competes on PBS. BUTT the Penis From Poughkeepsie (real identity unknown) is making a late charge to reclaim the title and bring it back to good ol' Murica. this will be a test event at this summer's Rio Olympics.

BONUS: post a pic of your body part you like to show off: *eggplant emoji*


Friday, April 15, 2016



* America's Funniest Home Videos. funny strange, not funny ha-ha.

* slapping your butt is the universal sign for "my acid-washed jeans are starting to fade, i need a new pair."

* remember, Pee-wee Herman never did that thing. his middle name is Aloysius? do not name your next baby Kanye, name your next baby Aloysius. name your next cat Keanu.

* Saddam Hussein's favorite video game was Dig Dug.

* this guy is also not the father of Megan Fox's baby.

* imagine being Gandhi's cat...

* look, i like bacon, too, but you do realize that one day in the not-too-distant future there will be a reckoning for all we have done.

* when you think of milk, just picture Catwoman, not anyone else.

* catlovers, my people.

* VHS=Very Hedonistic System

* not even rabbits like radishes.

* that made me miss Night Court. remember Night Court? yeah, it was always some yellow rice, some Shake 'n Bake pretzel coating, and some Night Court for me most '80s nights after homework. i'd just eat the coating, not the meat.

* family reunion?

* the secret to a lasting marriage is thick spaghetti. get the spaghetti thick, none of that gross angelhair shit.

* remember when dads wore thin white New York Jets sweaters and thick mustaches?

* what's the difference between a church service and a lodge meeting? moose ears.

* remember, life, not death, is about sacrifice.

* looking back, Shrek was a bad idea.

* Flipper gets her name...

* so what are you guys' plans this weekend? mine is all set: Midnight Moonshine Burger. moonshine once landed you in jail, now it's on a burger. ain't life funny?


happy weekend

Wednesday, April 13, 2016


i was right. for once. i mostly let the hassles of the move wash over me and flood my sister. when i was asked a question, i went to find my cat. i decided that getting angry about every little thing wasn't gonna solve anything. though it always felt good. well, not good but instinctual. getting angry about the big things is what's important.

and it really wasn't that big of a deal. my sister's place was amongst the mansions up in the hills. whenever you have to take a dirt road to get somewhere you know it's special. it surprisingly was exactly like my place, ex-place, with the lawn and everything. the lawn was a little smaller cos the more expensive a place is, the smaller a space it occupies. the last time my sister and i drove in her car with the cool gullwing doors for more than an hour was when she picked me up from college for the last time. this is nice, car conversation. i need to get to know my sister more. she is the only twolegs i can face, though i look at her only when she's not looking at me.

my sister: at least it's not too hot. but it's always hot inside here. must be a Lincoln thing. i think they stuff the seats with felt. crack a window?

she looks at her rearview mirror and sees me and Trinity in the backseat. only i'm wearing my seatbelt. and only i am having fun with the ball of yarn.

me: nah i'm cool. *i lower the window* let's talk.

my sister turns on the radio. it's Margo Price.

me: saw her on SNL. people made fun of her nose on facebook, it sealed the deal and made her forever beautiful to me. she's not like the other girls, she takes the booted step from cute fluff to sexy mystery, she allures. i see her bathed in dull yellow light but i don't see the spotlight, she's surviving the long day strumming her pawnshop guitar, no greatest loser in the world here, a hero of life, a steely survivor. soulful vocals. haunting heroine hits to help. from a different time and place, possibly even from a city. she looks like she could replace Rachel on Friends. her birth is rural but her upbringing is sensible, her eyes are urbane country, her tats are tellers. i read up on her story and it was tragic out of the country-singer's manual to a T of the heel made of silver spurs. her album cover speaks to her wispiness, she's a fairy fluttering from mushroom to mushroom across the countryside, never staying, just long enough to fill the brim of a young cowpoke's hat with her gold dust. she's a singer with heart. and a soul as old as a broken heart. a string only shows itself when plucked.

sister: jahno? no fair. i can't lose myself like you do. have to keep some mind on the road. i need to muse more. i'll check her out. can't think of the last time i had a lazy Sunday. work prevents me from staying up Saturday nights.

me: i don't know whether i'm alone with my thoughts all the time or lonely. she's bringing country back to the roots, wearing traditional long spaghetti-string tassels, none of this pop-and-bro country shit. and i don't follow country music. i probably read that somewhere. i hate country music. that's my kneejerk reaction. i've always said that to myself so it must be true. though i've never listened to country music. not a full song from beginning to end. only on SNL.

we cross the border without incident. this may be the last time that's true.

me: i want to say this to you now that we're between arguments. the time might not come again. we are serene like the skyline yonder, calm as the nearby waves gently crashing the rocks giving permission waving their magnets for a shower. you are the queen, i bow down. you were always the younger mature one. i've been through stuff but you were adopted and that has shaped you into a shrewd businesswoman. you have been molded with fire into a modern lady. you are a postfeminist princess and i am proud to be related to you. and we are related, never doubt that. we were both forged in the cauldron of a 100-degree Los Angeles heat. *i sniff the air around me violently* before and after the levee breaks.

sister: i know. is this a metaphor? of course it is, you only speak in riddles. is this about my water breaking? i can assure you, i learned the hard way and will not make the same mistake. heartbreak seals stronger than before. sure i manipulated the boss as all in my position should. you gotta have fun being you. but only to get access denied me by history. being a nurse sucks. you want to help but you end up the helpless punchingbag. i figured if i was to be blamed for everyone's problems i might as well get paid like a doctor. and you know what i found? it's lonely at the top. the breakthrough is more exciting.

me: i don't doubt you'll accomplish all your dreams. i love that you leave me in the dark about your life. and secretly meddle in mine. what is life if all is known. you inspire me. i look up, not sideways, to you.

we reach the end of the hill, pull up the leaf-littered concrete driveway, and turn to face the shiny storied sumptuous solid structure. past the enormous tree that must be ten feet tall i notice a week later. it takes me two weeks to notice that this is indeed a mansion. and a month to notice that this is more of a mountain. and if i look far enough i can see my old Mexican apartment.

the movers are easy to handle. they all have their backs broken, standing in the crooked V position. one even removes his brace and it feels better to move around again. he wiggles and straightens up and lifts his Duluth shirt to air out his underboob and experiences bracing air for the first time. he's the one tasked with carrying my antique television set up to my room.

me (speaking from behind the tree): i'll take that, good sir. that box is my diary. it contains my precious memories and my nostalgic viewpoints. wouldn't want you breaking irreplaceable discontinued glass or woodfinish sidepanels.

mover: you can get another tv, kid. preferably one that's lighter and flatter. like my ex-wife. i can tell that room's important to you. you don't look like you go to the gym. you don't inhabit another space.

me: well, sure, everyone's bedroom is their sanctuary. their fortress of solitude. if they're lucky enough to be an only child. that's what i thought, that's what i would have said to him if i had the guts. btw, that snarky gym insult is usually said to people who are fat, not skinny. this guy's been around the block, he's lived. i'm not sure whether i just thought that or said that outloud.

my sister had a rare afternoon off. or she would pay later in the week by combining her lunch hours now for today or something. we went to the second storey and sat down on the floor of my barren bedroom waiting for my bed to come through. the door. and clear the bank, too.

sister: so that's something to live for. your old bed had the springs piercing through. couldn't have been comfortable.

me: i'm a deep sleeper. i don't notice things. thank you. and thank you in advance.

we have an impromptu late lunch. she has her usual Virginia Slims cigarette and tupperware of crab stick. she lays out for me my two white pills on a paper plate. i down it with some mamajuana i pawned off a kid at the border.

sister: is that the midori i ordered online ten cases of? should have arrived by now. shouldn't drink it straight, i just use it for cooking.

me: i believe you. you are too busy to lie. no, just a green bottle.

i take a swig behind her back. i finally have the time to read the label. oh, this wasn't what i thought it was. it's probably gonna end up curing me with herb, not blasting me with it. my sex drive will be more potent for when i masturbate.

sister: there are many vices out there, some juniors, some seniors. i'm not naive enough to believe you're an angel. but i also know you're not the devil. just don't get mixed up with seniors. please, i beg you, for the sake of sake, no hard drugs.

me: the only drugs i take are the Vanquish you prescribe for me. i'm an actor, i don't do drugs. scout's honor.

sister: you quit Cub Scouts, remember? you told me the story. i wasn't born yet.

me: i suppose i did. but i did love that thick Webelos handbook. i read that thing cover to cover imagining i had the will to accomplish anything to the end. those neckerchiefs were neat, i wanted all the colors, all the levels. that was my first collection before gray NES railroad cartridges. i wanted the rainbow round my neck. i loved that centerfold spread of the three anthropomorphic creatures, they were more alive than people to me. i was a furry before it was cool.

sister: those aren't Vanquish but i do wish Vanquish would go back under the counter. anything that works that well is dangerous. so, reading any parts?

me: better, writing them. at least now that we're back in the home country i won't have to know Spanish. the Baja acting scene is tough. it's California but i swear it was more like Mexico over there.

sister: you just loved staying in. that place. when you've got an apartment it doesn't matter where you live, you can close all the drapes and not utter a word of language.

we talked about whether men or women were the worse gossips. this is the kind of stuff we discussed when one or the other was in a good mood. i thought it was pretty clear women were, it was bred into their genes for centuries, at least since National Enquirer. that's why they went to hair salons, not for the hair. shipping is central to the success of any show on tv, that half of the demographic seals the deal. women formed their female friendships always first over rumors about boyfriends and girlfriends and who's dating who, the traveling pants came later. my sister brought up mom and said she heard from dad that actually men gossiped viciously. i couldn't get my head around that, men never spoke to each other above a mumble, even best friends. they would talk about sports and women. so yeah, women, but in the sense of that chick is hot and i want to bang her or she's nice and i want to bff her. he'd ask if she had a boyfriend. if she did, the conversation would end right there, he wouldn't be interested in knowing the boyfriend's name or dating history or bad habits or that he's a slob and can't cook nor sing. he'd look at his manicure.

MEANWHILE Trinity is getting used to the new digs. he sinks his flat paws into this carpet, this new substance, this material of tiny strange shag ropes. he takes a long vicious sniff of the stuff. Trinity does a cartwheel and flips over the top down the stairs.

Trinity (thinking): i wonder if amicus or the other twoleg saw that. oh shit, the movers are still here! where's the hole in this place?!!

then inevitably either my sister or myself would be pleasant while the other stewed. doctor visits would come up and i'd end the conversation right there before the both of us were in a bad mood, those were the worst talks. that's when grievances and past failures would be dredged up regardless of gender.


Trinity: i love the new bed, amicus. i jump up next to you. i see you smoking. i don't think that's good for me, amicus. clouds are only for outside. the smoke cloud could...oh, it's not a real cigarette, it's a bubblegum cigarette, you're eating it and blowing bubbles. those bubbles feel weird on my face. i glower and close my eyes when i see that strange ball coming out of your mouth, it's unnatural. i lick your face. i don't bite it.

me: oh Trinity! my baby, love this baby, love dis baba. thank you. i had an inkling i shouldn't smoke, i thought of you i really did. i'm selfish mostly but i have my causes for pause. mostly for paws. not a pregnant pause, but still. that Truth ad on tv confirmed it for me.

Trinity: lub u 2. and now amicus is playing with his gum, he takes the wad out of his mouth and stretches it into a tiny string, so thin a thread you can barely see it.

i am left with my cat in a cold, empty warehouse of a home. my sister works too much. it's been enough time now it's become an unintentional silent treatment.

me: Trinity, hi, hi boy. i'm getting on all fours. i'm in your boat, this is a new environment for me, also.

Trinity: i knew it! you're really one of us, amicus, you're no man. you were just pretending all this time to fit it, to camouflage us from the dangerous world out there. but we're safe now: insular, inside, closed off, locked up in this large cage. you're a good mother.

me: more than anything else, my cat, i want you to feel comfortable. here. and with me. i don't want you to see me as that stranger who snatched you from the shelter in the only known good kidnapping to date. it was a high-stakes job but it was my one last job. heist of humanitarianism. i want you to look into my mocha eyes and see that i've changed, i've molded in the heat, i've molten so you can eat me, i'm deeper now, i'm your man, your provider, your friend.

i fall asleep on the floor. Trinity gets on my back and kneads the kinks out. iron is good for you. free massages are the best massages. he sleeps for awhile but it's just a catnap. he leaves my lifeless log and approaches the waterbowl in my bedroom for the first time at night. it's still chipped but that water looks delicious. Trinity lowers his head and unfurls his tongue. he laps it up noisily which wakes me up. i stir, move ever so slightly, but animals are keen to such things, they hear things humans won't, and he runs away out my door before he has a chance to finish. i always feel bad about that. i want him to feel satisfied. i want him to have a sense of accomplishment. i find him by my bedroom door, on the other side of the door, on a blanket my sister must have laid out for him. there is a large depression where he lies and looks up to me with a concerned face. i try to smile warmly back at him. it's been a while since i tried to earnestly do that.

Trinity: amicus has a nice smile.

Monday, April 11, 2016


1. would you like to be famous? in what way? yes, that is the sole reason for this blog. and art for art's sake, too. i want to be one of those cool indie bloggers with the glasses and short haircut who wears a T shirt with BRAND NAME on it unironically. i want to be a writer that's let back into coffee shops. once again, Starbucks, i am truly truly sorry for what happened. i write at White Castle now, making sure to sit by the bathroom before i order my original sliders just in case.

2. name three things you and your partner have in common: we both must agree Ellen Kushner was the best CYOA writer, Ragyo was not the best mother, and Fraggle Rock was puppet Citizen Kane. we both must love to do youtube dramas with our own puppets. right now i'm using my dirty green sock as Kermit. i need my Miss Piggy. i need my soapmate.

3. name three things you hate that you partner likes: she likes Left Twix, i like Right Twix. she likes the cascading caramel, i like the falling caramel. she likes the cookie, i like the nookie.


4. what do you value most in a friendship? when i can call them up to ask for life advice about my many problems and they don't respond with, "who are you?"

5. what do you value most in a romantic relationship? after sex when i turn to face her for some life advice cos i have a lot of problems and she doesn't go, "who are you?"

BONUS: finish this sentence: i wish i had someone with whom i could share... love of television. i love obscure tv, i love forgotten '70s series which lasted one season, or one show, smart children's television, the first episode of long-running venerated shows, the first Law & Order, the first General Hospital, the first Coronation Street, the first Reading Rainbow. if you don't have fun while you learn, you'll seek fun elsewhere. tv doesn't have to be the idiot box, it can be a better school than school. you don't have to be burning tree to enjoy it.



Saturday, April 9, 2016


my babies, if you'll indulge me, my heart sings.




what's 16 years between soulmates? it's been so long i now have to use that stupid jack-o'-lantern emoji to signify the Smashing Pumpkins. this was existential, i'm more of a Miracle Whip guy but this was existential. i know what you're thinking. i know, i know, but D'arcy can't look any rougher than i do. i'm thinking one more farewell album from just the four of them, the core four, no synthesizers or yucky other members. i know they've got at least one more in them. call it Gish 2.0. or better yet, Second Siamese Dream. i know this is a special occasion, momentous and mellony, but why are you wearing that heavy blazer and suit, Billy? that can't be comfortable to play in. we need to get you some Axl Rose leather pants. faux leather of course. grow your hair long again, Billy, just to see. i agree with the air, famous rockstars are dropping like flies, you gotta let go of anger before it's too late and it permanently stains your heart. Mother weep the years i'm missing All our time can't be given Back. they of course get my Hall of Fame vote. i wish i had a Hall of Fame vote. it's not enough nowadays to just be a writer, you gotta be one of them weird writers with power. Seacrest out.

Friday, April 8, 2016



* Hardcore Henry eat your heart out

* if you slowed this down to normal speed, with some secret youtube program as simple as pushing a button i know not of, it wouldn't make sense. there would be awkward pauses and the special effects wouldn't match the action. the actors would step on each others' lines cos they wouldn't know their cues.

* Karen Wetterhahn is actually a tragic real-life story.

* no hammock is more important than Mr. Belding.

* don't underestimate janitors. the janitor from Scrubs won Jeopardy.

* those kids attending the anti-drug rap are on speed!

* i had one of those children's record players. i played that Disneyland record over and over and over.............Walt Disney is my father...

* red is not the color of love, it's the color of ginger.

* hey kid, no crying over spilled milk.

* chuckwash is worse than chuck.

* can you imagine the person who started the first ever food fight? that person got up on the table, yelled FOOD FIGHT!, and began tossing the spaghetti on the plate everywhere. no one else participated and that person was sent to the mental institution to "rest".

* underpants over your head=overpants

* this is right before the events of 1984.

* this is right before the events of A Clockwork Orange.

* nothing good ever happens in a boiler room. Heathers?

* you can't build a robot. only God can.

* WALL-E let himself go.

* school sux.

* good to see Dr. Gero writing manuals again.

* Ms. Wampler loves robots.

* Benito gets a show but George Lopez can't?!

* Palpatine let himself go.

* this is right after The Terminator. we know what to do this time.

* this is why i don't shower.

* first draft of "All Is Full of Love" video

* at least the robot removes the graffiti. wait, that's stifling art. nevermind. bad robot.

* speaking of Nevermind, basketball net from the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video

* do not eat the hot dogs from the caf.

* she's a small wonder...

* this movie is 4 hours long, cut for broadcast.

* come on, Spieth, let Rory complete the grand slam. don't score the ball too much. let's have an exciting back nine on Sunday. let's have Villanova/North Carolina down the stretch and a Thrillanova finish.


happy weekend

Wednesday, April 6, 2016


my sister (on the phone): no, no! i forgot! i wanted to surprise you. no good deed. my boss is being a real bitch this week. i can say that cos i'm female. cancel the cable. we'll install it at my place.

me (on the phone): i appreciate all you do for me, all the things i don't see. it's fine, online porn these days is better than anything Playboy has to offer...

i loved going to the store. thank god it's walking distance. i hate driving. too nervous to drive. i actually don't mind walking. it's the only time i see myself outside of a square bubble. let the rain fall i say. yes, let it storm, no coat for me. the harder it rains the milder it gets, it's never cold when it rains, people are too busy getting wet to notice that.

the first thing i notice when i reach the power center lot is all of the cover trees are big wooden poles with bare branches on top. the canopy is gone! you can see the raindrops now, it's weird, they used to be filtered and strain out into green puddles. when did they do this? i didn't hear anything. meaning i didn't hear the buzzsaws going. i approach a nice-enough man delicately balancing himself opposite a tree with a wide beige belt hugging them both as he slowly saws away at it. it's amazing how quiet a hacksaw can be. his hardhat bears the logo of the Store. the overcast sky blurs his face. the tree couldn't be more than two feet high.

me: leaping from tree to tree are we?

lumberjack: no, just this one then i'm done.

me: nevermind. (i had a women's clothing followup but y'know i probably wouldn't have been brave enough to say it to his face anyway) what's going on here? i'm not a cop, just wondering. why are you doing this to these poor trees?

lumberjack: just in case.

it struck me again as i entered the energy-efficient automatic sliding doors. that thing about choosing man or nature. who knows, maybe slicing these beautiful trees, stripping them of their leaves, saves their lives, maybe they're rotten, not in a personality way, but a sickness way, they have a disease and scalping is the only cure. at any rate i hate that nature is at the behest of man. should be the other way around, nature came first. man is too small-minded to see the big picture, nature should win in the end. see? i like Miyazaki for more than the pretty colors and Disney characters, the message filters through. tv-movies cut for broadcast will save humanity. whenever i see a lone tree, like the one along the Mile Drive by the golf course, i want to pluck her out and return her home to her brothers and sisters in the forest. no, not the golf course, her home forest, the mother country, to the dark complex German wood from whence all trees and fairy tales are born.

i pick up a few things. but soon a few things turn into bonafide items. specials even. i'm starting to need more of a cart than a basket. that's not good. i shop here, with my sister's credit card, every week, so after awhile you tend to get the same 25 items. exactly the same everyweek. if i'm gonna live this way i have to stem the boredom where i can. list memorized in my head. no list required, muscle memory now. i try to see if there's one new thing, one new brand, one new iteration of water or bread i can try. i usually manage it. today there were two! just like my fried egg this morning was a double-yolk! today is my lucky day.

i get to the cute little conveyor belt in the express lane. the checker has his head down buried in the keyboard of his cash register. oh shit, how many is express lane again? i come here every week but that's something i don't exactly know. i usually shop with my sister when i can and we do the full shopping. 25? it looks like i have 25 items. i could lose the strawberries. no, keep the strawberries, get rid of the Pom, the glass bottles are cool but that red liquid is like tasting my own blood.

the checker never lifts his head using his arms and hands to feel out the items he passes over the red infrared line of light. he probably has his job memorized by now, too.

checker: save the Pom. you can use the bottle for a bong. hey, what is this?! this feels strange, it's like when i'm stroking my dick at home.

i am distracted by the magazine headlines next to the gum: apparently Prince Charles isn't the true heir, his illegitimate son who lives like a pauper is. Angelina Jolie is dying secretly. Joan Rivers wants to sue.

me: what? oh, i arranged all my items in the shape of a long pole. in protest, looks like a cut tree. hey, at least it saves space.

i think the mob behind me agreed, i made sure not to see directly.

checker: oh come on! sorry, whatever, my boss says i complain too much. you have 26 items here but.......whatever, thank you for the instance. life lesson learnt. thanks, i needed the sigh break. *beep* *beep* *and so forth* i hate my job, you know how it is.

i sure don't.

the checker next door: coming through, boss.

the other checker squeezes an errant shopping cart around me. good thing i'm skinny enough for that.

i hate being called boss.

Trinity: i'm right at this place. the rectangle. is amicus coming back? it's been...time. i hear a knock. that's not good. jangle, that's the good sound. those are the keys. burglars don't have keys.

me (rapping at the door): boy, it's me. open up, babe. just kidding, it's just me, Trinity, coming home. let's have this be a welcome this time, not an awkward stare.

Trinity: who's there? i warn you, i'm in my attack stance...behind the couch! it's, it's, amicus! with a bag, no!, oh it's not a clear bag, it's a strange rectangular brown bag. that's even worse but i'm less scared, doesn't throttle like the clear bags, it rustles in a low murmur. what are you doing amicus? he sits down on the couch and extends his hand. i extend my lick my paw. amicus sighs and takes out his items. first a couple of boring things. then a Coca-Cola pint can, how festive. and a carton of some Fairlife Ultrafiltered Milk. he makes a philosophical joke about the milk i can't quite comprehend. is it for me? thank you, amicus.

me: sorry it's taking too long to open this thing...why won't it open? what is this?! i need a screwdriver to poke a hole in the side...oh, there's a cap on top.

Trinity: you can just pour it on the floor and i'll lick it up. my tongue has grown six inches since you last saw me. this is like what? nevermind. oh, put it in a bowl, yeah that's better, what royal treatment from my amicus. do not bother for my sake. i'm not fancy like those fluffy white cats on tv. oh, and the treats! YOU REMEMBERED! thank you, good sir, no need for a dish, just put them on the floor, i have a hard time seeing them, i can't see them when you place the treat in the palm of your hand despite the genuine care of effort. i appreciate the gesture and take note of your generosity. thank you for sharing your wealth with me. i will earn your respect. thank you for caring for me. i will not become society's lowly opinion of me. i know of self-fulfilling prophecies.

the phone rings.

Trinity: i know that horrible sound. but i'm not scared of it. i hear it from before. it was worse with the other guy. nothing good comes when amicus puts his mouth to that plastic dog bone. that dog on the other end is a monster. they're always arguing, amicus is flustered after his sessions with that stick. i look at his face and he looks back at me but it's strange. he's weirdly reflective in my oval eyes. his forehead is red but not from anger, from embarrassment.

me: Garry Shandling? independent-researched him on my own pleasure way after the fact. i remember when Larry Sanders was the forbidden show all the adults talked about watching under their decadent Dynasty silk sheets while the kids were brushing their teeths as the sideglance eyes on the Felix the Cat clock darted left to right, wagging its tail 8PM. the mockumentary forerunner. then at breakfast the mom and the dad would inside-joke each other about last night and the kids would have no idea, just catch a showbiz name here or there as they rummaged through the bottom of the Raisin Bran box for a California Raisin. it was the beautiful secret, a gift to the parents for being parents and old, taboo for toddlers. Garry was great. he wasn't a comic, he was a soul sage. laughing through the philosophy. pain as school. his funny-looking face was the serious visage of a sad clown. he was the comedian with heart.

sister: i can't keep doing this. a dollar can only stretch so thin. it is just paper after all. when he gets here i don't want him on top of my counters sniffing my food. you gotta meet me halfway. Forever Alone is not a sacrifice, gotta get off the computer and travel. all of us aren't special. i like cats, too, but i'm not a cat lady. what are you working on now? i still have the Burger King application on my hard drive, i can fill it out for you and send it.

me: you cruel witch. fast food is my last remaining joy. you know i could never enjoy a Whopper again if i see how it's made! i gotta scrape poop off the scoop. i gotta get Trinity a new bowl. i'm writing something right now, it's gonna be big, it's the deepest piece i've ever penned, well typed. well, i'm thinking about it anyway. i need quiet. this blessed house gave me the seed, the concept. but i need a log cabin to hammer out the details.

oh the joy of slamming the phone down on the carriage in disgust. that's something these kids today with their cell phones will never experience. it's smart to filter your anger on inanimate objects.

Trinity: amicus always sits down on the couch after each call. he takes a glass bottle out of a brown bag and drinks it heartily kissing the lip. is that for me? *meow*

me: oh that's so cute. no, son, not for you. this is my messy water. for adults only. you are a baby. please stay that way. change is for fools. she still has four hours of work, take advantage. this move is gonna be hell. i love when it's quiet around here, i can think. really think. i need to live in a log cabin up in the hills with the other mansions. sorry, boy, i know you're bored all the time. indoor cat, actor uh playwright, you can only be what god made you. raison d'etre. oh, sorry, idem, i forgot, my cat speaks Latin. everyone needs stimulation of some sort. i'll get you some toys next time.

i see Trinity by my foot in the catloaf position.

me: and some bread. heehee. thanks, i needed that. it's nice to have your own personal nuthouse nurse in the family. cheaper anyway. i try not to think about the pills, i think more about the liquid i use to down them.

Trinity: i wonder if amicus knows about the hole. i race over there when you're not looking. the screen is always just ajar enough that i can open it. i go outside to the lawn and fresh air and take a big whiff. the perfume of the swirling dandelion seed head takes me back to my roots. i can relate to the ruderals. i would never leave you, amicus, but i keep my sojourns to the garden secret cos i don't want to worry you. outside by the water filter is an old tin bowl not like the chipped bowl i have you got me. i always check to see if it's filled with milk or something, some magic elixir, but it's empty. i take a nap next to it when i can, it's my other place i feel comfortable in your home. i don't want to hurt amicus, he is not the other guy. i cut my nails now.

Trinity perks his ears as the wind perks sideways. he slides his long tail around the tin bowl outside and runs his four paws against the blunt lip of the bowl, edging his pointy claws sand-smooth, making them round and flat and dull.

Monday, April 4, 2016


1. springtime we start to show more skin. do you shave (legs, chest, pubic area, back) more in the spring than you did in the winter? yes, in preparation for this summer. it's all shaved, all of it. you guys it's true! i trained hard and i qualified! i beat the trials! i'm going to Rio! *takes victory lap in swimming pool* i'm gonna play the part of the snake in next year's Carnival parade. they took one look at me and said i was born to play this role.

2. do you or would you have sex with the windows open in the spring? it's such a breath of fresh air, both meanings, to fuck in the spring. i'm so used to Burger King bathrooms.

3. does your body confidence improve as the weather gets warmer and your body is less covered? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

4. does warmer weather turn you on? a) yes, see more skin, get turned on b) i like winter, i like to make body heat c) i get friskier and flirt more come spring but don't cum more d) it's a nightmare! i am self-conscious about showing more of me, warmer weather and skimpy clothes just bring out my insecurities.

i'm goth. i hate the sun. that being said, a

5. love, romance, sex. for you, which of these gets better in spring? you mustn't have one without the other, all three go together like a menage a trois in a Paris cafe. ah, the springtime of youth. love is in the pollen-filled air. i wanna be in a threesome so bad.

BONUS: thinking of a current relationship that is important to you, what "spring cleaning" needs to be done. meaning assessing what serves you what do you keep and what do you throw away?

i'm a hoarder. i wanna be on tv so bad.