Friday, January 30, 2015


learned pregame:

* i'm just here so i can hopefully get paid for my writing one day, enough to pay fines.

* Tom Brady is dreamy. that's all that really matters.

* 49: XLIX: ex-lax, ex licks, ex-licks: you're gonna need ex-lax after all the bad pizza you ate to forget about your ex, the way your ex used to lick you, all you have now are memories, ex-licks. wait, pizza is like sex, there is no bad pizza.

* hey did you know that on Sunday they're actually gonna use the inflated balls to throw and pass and catch and hand off? from the coverage i had this picture in my mind of the game consisting of the refs carrying out 12 footballs to the middle of the field and inflating them at the same time, whichever ref fills it to the legal-standard psi the soonest wins the Super Bowl.

* the damage has already been done, they can't use footballs ever again. i like Dick Vitale's idea, use bars of soap, that would also give it that prison-yard feel i always thought football had anyway.

* these are the two most hated, arrogant franchises going at each other for the ultimate prize. if they were smart, they'd team up and take over the world, which is the real ultimate prize. nobody could stop them, not even Superman Cam Newton.

* Ballghazi: the real Ball of Hate is John Anderson from ESPN, but Lindsay Czarniak's flower has tempered him somewhat. it's hard to tell with John if it's all an act, he seems so friendly and downhome and whipsmart. it's the exact reason why i like David Letterman, you're just never sure...

* here's how it's gonna go down:

Brady will make it a point to throw Sherman's way, Brady ain't scared of nuttin save too-tight Uggs. Brady completes the pass over Sherman's head. Brady doesn't remember the infamous U MAD BRO? encounter with Sherman last time, Brady doesn't remember who started it or what was said but Brady will damn well finish it. so Brady will make sure the cameras are on his best side, both sides are his best side, and sets up for the counter-infamous shot of Brady returning the U MAD BRO? back at Sherman, but Sherman has his headphones on the whole time and misses everything.

* the way Bill (Belichick) the Science Guy droned on with his droning voice at that press conference with his science lecture about how atmospheric pressure affects balls, you'd think he was a boring high-school science teacher or something. Ben Stein. anyone, anyone? drones scare me.

* Katy Perry: i don't want to be that guy, but i liked her older stuff better, when she was still rebelling against her previous image. the best music comes from the pain of overanalyzing yourself, going against your inherited religion. as unfortunately happens every time, though, the one who bucks the establishment becomes the establishment. everyone loves "Firework", i love that it's singular, makes it different, but the song is clearly about the day the Illuminati took over the world in secret and they had a big celebration but had to keep it secret from the rest of the unsuspecting world so they only popped one firework quietly in an open field miles from civilization at the abandoned farmhouse where they hold their meetings.

* I'm In: that's what she said. seriously, though, i was the 12th man once, it's not as fun as you'd think...

* it is your patriotic duty as an American to root for the Patriots. only if you're a chickenhawk by the name of Henery Hawk can you root for the Seahawks.

it's easy to play! simply predict the score between the New England Patriots and Seattle Seahawks this Sunday night. the winner of this blog game is the one who firstly picks the actual winning team and then is closest to the actual score. use my entry in the comments as a guide. the winner gets 3 comments from me to your blog and a free air pump. come back Monday and let's find out the winners together! it'll be less fun than the fun we're already gonna have together this weekend!!!


Wednesday, January 28, 2015


Wolf Spritzer: Anderson, i thought i fired you.

Anderson Cooper: why do they really call you wolf? you haven't told that story a billion times lately.

Wolf: it really has to do with i was the inspiration for that dude who takes off his shirt in those werewolf movies to the teenie yells. shhhh, Andie, he's approaching the podium.

Bom Trady: i don't know why i'm here. i mean, thank you for coming.

press corps: who wouldn't come for Bom Trady.

Bom: i'm under a lot of pressure over too little pressure. i could pay the fine, but it's important to get out here in front of the cameras and address the snarky media cos it's not about the highfalutin arrogant know-it-all media, the media is simply the conduit to my trolls and fans. i love you.

press: we love you, Bom, you are so handsome! it doesn't make sense that the first male supermodel should play football, but here you are, and the combination is ratings gold! Bom, we have to ask you this, we don't want to, but a couple of online trolls have pressured us to. the pressure in your balls, did you have anything to do with that?

Bom: my balls are fully inflated at all times, ready to burst out on the field and shower my fans in the stands with the goo of life. Gatorade doesn't fuel us, energy does. sports is a metaphor for life. i don't know the exact metaphor, something to do with money. it's a business like anything else. grown men playing a boy's game. my boys swing with the wind, very random. we quarterbacks hate the wind most of all, can't throw the damn ball, deflated or not. generally we're not a fan of the weather. science is a nuisance. anyway the wind blows.

press: Bom, could you repeat that? we pushed the red button too soon. Bom, are you a cheater?

Bom looks seriously into the fourth wall, not at the press.

Bom: listen to me very carefully, this is serious now: i would never infect the integrity of the game by playing the game. i unequivocally 100% under no circumstances absolutely without question say:

i don't think so.

press (scrambling): Bom, Bom, what does your wife think?

Bom: would you care what she thought if she wasn't a supermodel?

press: we only care that you're a superman.

Bom: look at me, look at this face, i mean, come on, i don't need to cheat in life. look into my eyes, you are getting infected with my dreaminess, my perfect smile that isn't toothless like Tiger's, this has been a nightmare for me and my supermodel wife, it seems like a dream. this isn't serious, folks, it's a fucking stupid football game, this isn't ISIS, it's a laughing matter like Archer's ISIS. what we have to take away from all this is how much we prioritize this game and this sport. football is king which is a better king than a real king. we fought a war to extricate ourselves from a king. we fight ISIS. this is a distraction, don't think about the world around you, this is about fun and games, for nobody wants to bond through war, nobody wants a war, bonds between fellow soldiers are the strongest there is, football is fantasy, fantasy football is big business, people want to bond through a meaningless game, when the football players you interview say they are going to war every Sunday, they just don't get it, you can't equate that with that, concussions are serious, how many lives must we lose?, how many memories fractured and dudes who were your sports heroes who can't walk anymore?, can't see anymore, can't you see the truth? they do this for pure fickle entertainment, they break their bodies for you and how do you repay them? with false accusations that smear my legacy. when you go back to your offices to write your little stories, first feed your ficus, you've been neglecting your ficus, then finish up your FIFA scandal story cos there's no scandal here. this is what's important in life: number one, i am alive, number two: i am good-looking, painfully good-looking, number three: you are alive, number four: i love you and you love me, we're a sappy family, i always will, and you always will, you are hypnotized by my face and my laugh (off), never let balls get in your face, don't give me pain, i provide the food on your table, don't let anything come between our real realationship, it matters to the fans only, do your job and i do my silly job and our love will be infinite. any follow-up questions?

the press is silent. even Lena Dunham. even the voluptuous woman who always dances with the players on Media Day. even Pick Boy is hiding in shame under his cape.

Bill Belichick ruins the mood once again when he dispels the spell, attacks the podium to avoid attacking the press corps, turns to his right side, and asks:

did your daddy fix your hair for you today? you want to know what my favorite stuffed animal is? i'd be happy to talk about that, i was sick of lecturing you guys with science lectures. well...

Lacey: what'll you have?

Atalan: pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

Lacey: it'll be fifteen minutes, that's how much time it takes to write that on my pad. i only know how to make the eggs scrambled. it's so easy, the carton does it for me. i whisk open the fridge door and the carton whisks out and inevitably breaks a few eggs which i've always been taught is what life's all about. no need to whisk the eggs. i take the crushed egg from the bottom of my shoe and show you a good time with how delicious it turns out.

Atalan: so no scrambled?

Lacey: crushed eggs, it's my specialty, my own thing. one thing, though, have you ever felt around your eggs and noticed one of the eggs in the carton is soaking wet? a wet egg, it's the darndest thing. i always use that one cos it's gotta be a sign.

a cute monkey in a monkey suit glides by the tables and bumps Ata.

Ata: oh no, this isn't cute at all! this is animal abuse! i fucking hate humans!

Cotard: don't worry, God finds a way.

the monkey rips off his suit in a King Kong rage and takes Ata by the back and cradles him in his arms, singing to him gently.

Canbiy: go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little baby...

Atalan: i'm really resisting sucking my thumb right here. Brahms lullaby?

Canbiy: no, Jewel's version.

Kenyatta: you're name is Canbuy? you have no nameplate but i read it in your aura.

Canbiy: it's Canbiy, madam, how dare you! you can't buy me, haven't you humans done enough damage to the planet? nature wins out in the end, you'll see. the dream of the Ape Planet will come years after i'm gone.

Kenyatta: my favorite movie. and how dare you call me madam! i'm a woman with a hot disposition.

Lacey: i could use a hot take on life, my eggs are anything but. ew, ew, they're cold, i don't know what happened, cold eggs, disgusting!

Cotard: you have to boil 'em, you forgot to boil water, it's tough i know. cold hard-boiled eggs are the best, deviled eggs, slowly sliding down my monk esophagus like the snake.

Ata begins to dance a jig and talk at the level of loudness of the diner so it all cancels out.


Lacey (smiles): that made me smile, thanks.

Ata: i mean fuck the system, not you, the system of dating we're all under. wanted more but thanks. trying out some new pick-up lines.

Cotard sees a bright painting hanging overhead the mini chalkboard with the exorbitant muffin prices that tail off the edge of the board cos there're too many numbers.

Cotard: that's a Hugo Simberg, huh. take it down.

Lacey: freedom of artistic expression is valued here, sir, no matter how controversial.

Cotard: my boy, i simply want it for my shrine, it would go perfect with my other religious imagery of death dancing with life. it's okay, boy, it's okay, the Vatican will pay for it.

Imzhan: you barely got out of there with your life. were you daydreaming or something?

Codrus: impersonating an officer. i have to at least dream of power if i ever hope to gain it. those fucking people of the enemy that stormed the offices during my lucid siesta, i didn't have time to take the officer's coat i stole. i am so sick of this.

Imzhan: here we go again.

Codrus: i'm serious now. have you noticed that some things you take seriously aren't that serious? you tangle with them, squeeze them of all life, tie them into knots in your brain anguishing the outcome or what your response should be, the perfect comeback comment or the shape of your life. those are unnecessary shapes you've made of your brain matter. in a week, the monstrous thing in front of you disappears, dissipates like so much air pressure farting out of your balls. it doesn't matter, nothing matters, life goes on to the next Big Game. realationships meant to crumble will crumble over this little thing and you dust your hands of it and it moves on for you, dragging you with it.

Imzhan: don't do anything foolish in this desert dust.

Codrus: this is not one of those times, this is important past the second week. i'm sick of fighting another man's war, i want to fight my own war, that war would at least mean something. i'm sick of living. i don't want to live on this planet anymore, not unless i have the rules of life which are buried underneath lava in the center of the planet, Brazil, where only the finest soccer is played. it's too hard to live nowadays, there are too many things, gadgets, shits, fucks given, internet rants, and false connections, you start to think if you're not sick you're sick. how does anyone wade through all the distractions to get to the playing field to play the simple game of life? it's too complicated. life is too complicated, it's impossible to live now, it's too damn hard, hardship is one thing, it builds character, but too much hardship builds the bad-guy character. isn't life meant to be enjoyed? after all, this is all that there is, there is no after, so why not enjoy this while it lasts? life is beautiful if you're born into a family of beautiful lifers.

Imzhan: you're not gonna get into your black suit again and wage a war against God? or slack life, the other extreme?

Codrus: suit's in the shop. i still haven't given up on slack life, i won't go the slacker route on that one. no, i love God too much to wage war on him, it's the symbolism of the black, we're saying that anyone who wears the suit is lovingly mentioning to God that the system he's created is impractical, that no one can beat his game. we do it cos we're fans. a video game that's hard is cool for awhile, it challenges you, but it can't be that challenging that no one knows what the Final Boss looks like. so far, nobody has beaten the game of life. nobody knows what the Final Level looks like.

Imzhan: i was more a Cluedo dude. still fascinating how they made a chldren's game out of the most effective ways to murder. still can't look at a lead pipe simply as a water conduit. when the pipe breaks, i let the water flood my house, can't bear to look at it, have to call a plumber.

Codrus: Mario is the perfect metaphor for this, something about jumping higher for something better. i'm sick of this whole thing. soccer is fun but not desert soccer when it's just you and me playing on hard sand and a net with no net. as we wind up our foot to kick the goal, a gale of sand slams right into our esophaguses. now if that isn't a metaphor i don't know what is!

Imzhan: it's true, we're waiting around twiddling our thumbs, using our gun swords to poke out lines for our soccer field, it's not as fun when it's just the two of us, especially when we play for the same team. just awaiting our orders. i don't want you to die. you talk big and scary, mostly scary. you are a man of extremes. your past is so extreme you've chosen to forget it, which is impossible. i wish you'd open up to me more. i hate it when you talk about your life and you start foaming at the mouth. it's not that bad, we have each other, i need you, partner, bouncing the futball on one's knee gets old real quick. we're here, we're alive, we're waiting to die on the battlefield. rejoice! and hey, you forgot about Jabir.

Codrus: who?

Imzhan: some dude who's our parole officer or something, assigned to watch over us, make sure we wouldn't desert. he jabbered on about the rich desserts he was missing back home. he deserted his post into the dessert, i'm sure right now he's getting his rich desserts.

Codrus stands at attention like a good soldier, a soldier for his cause, and he lifts his fists into the air. he yells at the top of his lungs:



small pebbles in the ground begin to move forward and backward. a flap of goal net forms.

Imzhan: what is this external force?

Codrus: everything internal can be expressed externally. that's the secret. every man has the power to be god. i've been reading a lot of books. books, who knew? fuck these tablets the army gives us. nobody reads these books cos they're all covered in dust. the next person sees the dust and figures it collected that dust cos it wasn't important enough for the first person to dust off the dust, so they leave it to third person to deal with the dust. it's too complicated, they don't have the time to read it, well if not now, when? there is only now. i have the spine to dust off these book spines. there's a lot of esoteric stuff in here! it's wonderful! i don't understand any of it but that's the point, i understand this point, life is complicated.

Imzhan: or they're sick of dust. i know i am. i see what you're saiyan. i'm not sure i like seeing you with this much power but i like seeing you with a goal. no one will ever join your cause, it's crazy and life is crazy enough, i do it cos i like having you around.

Codrus: that's exactly the point i understand. you understand. i won't be around for long, i will ascend to a higher consciousness, a higher plane, i won't need a plane to travel, i'm on a plane, not plain anymore. just last week during the AFC Championship Game i started with these meditative outbursts of power. i had my first success while you and Jabir were stoned out of your mind watching the game on tv.

Imzhan: we were swallowing little stones alright, the wind was fierce that day.

in the Patriots locker room, 11 of their 12 footballs started to lose psi the moment Codrus began his first psi-energy experiment, summoning all of his inner strength to expel his force into reality in order to move little things like stones, it's good to start off slow, stones which were lodged in the throats of both Imzhan and Jabir from the Sandstorm.

Codrus (he said to himself): what a stupid composition.

Codrus tried but could only help Imzhan. poor Jabir wasn't as lucky. Codrus was so filled with disappointment and shame he knocked himself out by manipulating the air in his head. he passed out but Jabir passed on. Imzhan came to, saw his hapless haboob boob of a friend Codrus with tears dried on his cheeks, and decided to let Codrus's blackout continue longer so Codrus would really have plausible deniability when he woke up, which is a big thing in the army. Imzhan buried Comrade Jabir properly alone and came up with a cover story for Codrus upon his awakening. it wasn't Codrus's fault after all, he was only trying to help the only way he knew how, he isn't a doctor, doesn't even pretend to play one though he knows all the accupuncture points and healing energy within the body, the Naruto chakras, it's the weather's fault, blame the weather, it's an act of God.

Monday, January 26, 2015



thank you, this has inspired me to go back to GSN, i've been neglecting my baby for too long. i don't have the built-in excuse anymore of nothing to do. i can't be bored when there's always a Match Game from the '70s on. you never know how much you miss orange steps, shag carpeting, and freeflow kissing and touching until you lose your cable.

from The Newlywed Game:

1. what is a nickname a lover had for you that made you cringe? The Artist Formerly Known as Phoenix

2. where do you most often toss or keep your excess change? same place i toss my cookies. i open the bag and toss all the cookies from the bag onto the counter and eat all the cookie-dough bits from them, not the actual cookie itself, but the dough is too raw and sugary, it upsets my stomach, so i toss my cookies. i got holes in my pockets from carrying too many weighted coins...

3. if somebody wrote a book about your past lovers/past sex life, which category fits best? a) abnormal psychology book b) steamy romance novel c) sad sad story what's a book? mine would be normal psychology, i perfectly fit the normal psychological categories of depression, hypermania, dementia, youth senility, and general insanity, or cuckoo bananas is the medical term.

4. some say sex is like driving. pretend you are a car. are you rear, front-wheel or all-wheel drive? you says this? Elon Musk?


5. what is it that you do daily that you would like to stop doing? checking off the box each day on my calendar. it's depressing when you think about it. time doesn't exist, but days do.

6. what is the biggest lie you ever told to get someone into bed or the biggest lie you ever told in bed? here is a list of things i said i invented:

a) Disneyland Monorail
b) Playmobil (while playing with my Legos one day)
c) salt-n-pepper shakers
d) i was the inspiration for Mario (she will have to wait a year till my moustache grows back and then i put my plumber's hat on)
e) anime (i drew those big eyes first, i have the doodle in my basement)
f) corn on the cob
g) cotton candy (i saw all that lint doing my laundry one day and had an aha moment)
h) (the) 2Pac (hologram)
i) dark energy (dark matter if dark energy isn't bought)
j) water

bonus: if married, who was interested in marriage first, you or your spouse? i want to get married someday...i think.



Wednesday, January 21, 2015


Kenyatta: you okay, buddy? you don't look so good.

Atalan: i feel calmer after that, my nose and i are breathing more easily.

Cotard: i have never been more proud of a song. shall we away to the tavern?

Kenyatta: it's more of a gathering place where unnecessarily-large muffins are served. those things fill me up right.

Atalan: it's cos they're unnecessarily large and just-right expensive for how large they are.

Cotard: i wouldn't know about such fancy foods. i took an oath of poverty. i never have any money. i've been using these calloused feet for shoes since i can rememeber.

Atalan: which isn't long. how much longer? i'm feeling lightheaded. we can rib each other cos we're friends, right bro?

Cotard: ribs, now that's monastery food. i'd give you the brofist but i fear that'd topple you over like a feather. is there something you're not telling us? you can tell us two, bro and bra, anything, there are no limits here except for the city limits.

Kenyatta: i have no idea what you're talking about. all my shit's tight.

Cotard: no, the man with the bleeding skullhead.

Atalan: those skinheads make me sick but i'm too afraid to tell them to their furry faces.

Kenyatta: don't be so quick to judge people based on how they look. leather and spike necklaces can mean three things. tho those furries make me sick.

Atalan touches the nape of his neck to discover blood.

Atalan: how did that get there? i suddenly feel i have to lie down. i wouldn't have felt that way without first seeing the blood.

Cotard: the mind plays tricks. why is that? i wonder. anyway, sit down on the filthy ground, that'll make you feel better. there, just rub some dirt on it, you'll be fine once you imbibe a Gentle City Ginger. it happens. it's a mystery. mystery is overrated. i mean just last week i found my ponytail caught in the rows of teeth of a monastery gator. i took it as a sign, maybe i should take a break from that place. and maybe my monastery shouldn't have so many swamps. some, y'know, but not that many. also, when you start to get grey hair like i have, it's time to stop with the ponytails or you get confused for a dirty hippie. that's why my head presently is shaved nice and clean.

Kenyatta: you're bald, dear, but not bald of spirit.

the tavern was built around the huge flatscreen tv in the middle. the tv was placed first, then the first planks of wood and the roof were added later. they were in such a hurry to land the tv they crushed the ancient fountain that was there with the tv. the fountain stood as the only piece of the city from antiquity.

Atalan: talk about symbolic.

Kenyatta: i know, someone's gonna get electrocuted someday. they crushed the fountain into rubble but forgot to turn the fountain off.

Cotard slips Atalan some white pills dealer-style.

Cotard: take these, potent potent magic.

Atalan: Vanquish?

Cotard: the caffeine in them makes any pain go away.

Atalan: the last time my head bled like this, i took a Vanquish. the Vanquish immediately makes the area of pain throb. it hurt for hours. when i didn't take the pill, it healed without the throb. i smell something.

Cotard: i'll waft what she's wafting.

Lacey decides to turn up his nose and play along to the town jewel.

Lacey: yes, sir, that's our special, tacos al pastor.

Cotard: i see what you did there, thank you. i wouldn't mind porking your taco. three on the house.

Lacey: um...

Cotard: the church will pay it somehow, the Vatican pays for all my meals i think, i just have to remain quiet on a few things. in fact, son, you'll end up paying for this when you put your fin in the cute vanilla offering envelope at church on Sunday.

Lacey: i don't believe in anything but my beloved Chicago Cubs.

Cotard: cute, huh?

Atalan: yes he is. i can say that confidently as a straight man. why do they call you Lacey?

Lacey: i call myself Lacey. it's a strong male name.

Kenyatta: last name?

Lacey: first. they were gonna call me Laces for my agility on the sports field and my interest in lacin' em up to conquer any situation.

Cotard: then why do you wear velcro shoes?

Lacey looks down at his feet and trips and falls and spills his tray all over the tv screen, knocking the back of his head on the tv. the President is making his address and looking quite confident and exasperated.

the President: goddamn it, people in this chamber who serve the people, it's not about party, it's about being the best goddamn American you can be!

Atalan: i hate politics, it's all pageantry and pomp and no punch.

Kenyatta: we need pageantry in life or we'd be too bored. love that you're bored, it's better than dying on the battlefield.

Lacey pops out from the floor to sing: "where everybody knows your first name..."

Kenyatta: this place smells of sex.

Cotard points to a redhead with big breaststststststststs.

Cotard: smells of one gender in particular. cute, huh?

Kenyatta: yes she is. i can say that confidently as someone keeping her private life private.

Cotard: i was thinking her more for Ata, but now that i think about it, i like this better. look at the size of those things! look at her, she's a beautiful soul. she's so big, such big shapes and magnanimity of spirit. i'd like to stick my staff in the middle of em and wave my staff around and bless her with piety. i am her shepherd and she is my sheep. all of you are. hey, everyone in here goes to (my) church, right?

not a sound.

Cotard: either this place's too loud or i wasn't being obnoxious enough. life (here) is too busy.

Atalan: all this talk is making me corny.

Lacey: fresh out. sex is good, but not as good as fresh sweet corn.

Cotard: got any sweet corn?

Lacey: no.

Cotard: then why'd you say that famous quote?

Lacey: cos it's a famous quote.

Cotard: i like you. would you like to join our merry band of brothers?

Lacey: i don't go to church, remember? the baseball field is my cathedral.

Cotard: fine, more fine altar wine for me. sorry about being an asshole earlier, i've been drunk this whole time.

Atalan drifts off to the one glassless tavern window and sticks his hand outside to make sure, he drifts past the smell of tacos and tacos, expensive muffins and expensive muffin. he smelled a lot of smells today, but he harkens back to the heartened passion of Brother Cotard when Cotard was sober, which is when Cotard is at his best, to the lesson of music Cotard taught, and as Ata spies a black innertube barely holding on from a frayed rope tied to a low-hanging tree branch, Ata counts his blessings and praises low-hanging fruit, the simple boyhood pleasures of playing hooky and using all that daylight to play in the bog the month finals were to start. Ata sniffs and remembers


Yayray enters the dining place and immediately knocks the tv back right from being slightly askew at the corners. he counts the three menus in the front holder of the front desk three times before sitting down and asking for a ginger ale three times.

Codrus looks out his window to see nothing but flying dust. he receives a phone call. he hangs on the line longer than he needs to for he knows what this is about. he needs time to think, he's a thinker. he knows it's time to flee his office. he has no time to think, he has to get moving now. Codrus circles the receiver of the phone with his finger before pushing his finger through the circle like in that Tool video.



1. i am in need of an intervention for my obsession with ______. tongue

2. you are being auctioned off. what is your unique selling point? i don't kiss on the first date but i do fall in love on the first date. i won't go round the world with you unless i'm going round the world with you. i'm anal about anal.

3. on a scale of 1 to 5, how many stars did your parents give your current SO or favorite longest-lasting love? they were so relieved to have me out of the house they got star tattoos on their foreheads years before Mike Tyson made facial ink cool.

4. most of the meals i eat are a) micro-cooked b) oven-cooked c) made by someone else: made by someone else lovingly in the factory then frozen to be put in the microwave. these are culinary works of art that i'm always afraid i'll burn to a crisp if i try to cook them, so i leave them frozen.

5. when work/life stresses stress me out, nothing relieves the stress like: stress. i mean writing, especially when you have, like, fifteen minutes to come up with a brilliant story full of vibrant characters, pastoral settings, snappy one-liners and existential plots cos today is grocery day, too.


bonus: come up with and answer your own bonus question: I CAME up with these three unanswerable questions:

* why was fuck chosen as the ultimate swear word? it coulda easily been duck.
* what makes a question bonus? is it a bad-boy question that comes at the end cos it doesn't fit in with the rest of the questions in society? or do the rest of the questions shun the bonus question cos they're jealous of his work ethic and the bonus money he receives?
* the meaning of life is release. discuss. i'll join you later after i go to the bathroom.



Friday, January 16, 2015



* we're all living in Henry Ford's world. walking is good exercise.

* urban skiing: there goes the neighborhood right off the slope...does a midair flip...and lands perfectly for the tie for gold. there's skiing in the city and then there's skiing in the city.

* i once had a dream that the sky filled with planes and they swallowed all of the air pollution with their noise pollution.

* hoverboards: seriously, they're the only way to combat drones.

* parades are freaky. they're not a normal thing for people to do. think about it. it's weird enough being in a parade, waving, proceeding down the street, but it's stranger to watch the whole thing.

* my car has so many cylinders i don't feel the road when i'm driving, in fact i don't feel anything at all, i am my car.

* they were deciding between Psycho City and Evergreen City.

* it's hard to produce art while moving. you end up with hard feelings and art that isn't moving.

* this show is obsessed with escalators. think about it. think about the escalator. faster if you take the stairs.

* if your mind ever spills out into many toy cars, ride or die.



Wednesday, January 14, 2015


Gentle City is a good setting for this, it is the city that always sleeps. dreams will come true here. it has everything you could imagine, bus stops and everything else, whatever is called for to fit the story. it will be the place where everyone's lives will be lived and lived again, where the characters will never be short on character, and the storylines will be endless cos life keeps going and giving us storylines. no theme will be shortchanged, no issue skirted, the sex will be heavy and the heaviness of life will be lost in translation. who says soap operas are dead?

Cotard looks at all of the candles he has lit, the light bounces off his eyes though he can't see that.

Cotard: more light, there can never be too much light.

he scans his modest shrine and smiles. it's small, bigger than a stalker's shrine but certainly not the size of those gaudy megachurches. if this were a fairy tale it'd be just right. but this is a fairy tale, it's all a fairy tale, moreso in this place.

the shrine is Brother Cotard's home away from home. it is approximately the size of one house, the pews are there and three and carved with naked Hellenistic warriors. shards of wood shed off from here and Cotard uses these as toothpicks. the ground becomes a floor through wondrous marble tiling. who pays for all this? taxes i think. he doesn't have to pay taxes. there's a big neon arrow flashing toward the altar. the altar itself is of course pure ivory but no elephants were harmed, that goes against Cotard's code. Cotard loves the animals in nature more than he loves God. or himself. he loves Christ more than God. he's a god in these parts. there are three gems encrusting the front of the altar: blue ruby, red sapphire, and black pearl.

Cotard: the only jewelry a real man should ever wear is an earring.

the panels which adorn the two sides are paintings from all of the Masters: Matt, Trey, Shigeru, Bakshi, and Aragones. there is one panel left blank, Cotard leaves it blank in case the next great artist comes waltzing into church having found religion but still into maverick graffiti.

Cotard: actually it's blank cos i've had writer's block for months.

the ceiling is a world of its own, awnings where they shouldn't be, a third arch for show, and tatami for the spirits Cotard thinks live up there. the doors, well it's one door but it's so majestic it seems like more, was glass and revolving. it had to be. now it's the Klemens Torggler Evolution Door. it has to be.

there's a self-portrait of Cotard done by the monks when he was a pup just entering the monastery, it's hung up with pride, it's Cotard's only real family photo he has. and of course lining the space is the warmth of all those fucking candles.

Cotard: it's more like straight heat and burning fire now.

the wax drips but doesn't burn on the laminated floor, it crusts over like jewels. the place is a waxy mess but from one angle looks like beautiful art. he originally had the candles round and in those round glass cases but he decided to get the long slender ones mounted on cute cups.

Cotard: they look like penises. strength. power. virility. but also it's funny.

Atalan is surprised when Cotard doesn't walk with him to the church after that detailed description.

Atalan: why are we walking away from the holy site?

Cotard: my boy, prayer needs the open air to breathe. come join Kenyatta and me for morning meditation. we've left a mat woven of twigs for you.

Atalan: yoga? fuck you. and by you i mean the system.

Cotard: trends are trendy for a reason. for every one of us that hates the trend, there are two that love it or it wouldn't be trending. i like to watch Kenyatta's nice butt stretch. i stroke my long beard and strike a pose. remember, sex is undefeated. so is Father Time, which was my nickname in the monastery.

Atalan: i'm having a bad life.

Cotard: skip it. i've skipped mine.

Cotard leads Atalan to the shrine.

Cotard: do you know what's the number one item a seeker needs for a successful spiritual journey?

Cotard opens a secret blank panel in the right side of the shrine that is a room filled to the brim with rolls of toilet paper.

Atalan: well i did want to go to the shrine.

at the open field, Cotard assumes the lotus position.

Cotard: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, i've locked up my legs, get me outta here!

Kenyatta, who herself has her face in between her two sets of toes, points with her toes at the areas of Cotard she wants Atalan to hold and lift to get Cotard out of his bind.

Kenyatta: my dear monk, how will you fuck if you aren't flexible? sex is not about technique, it's about being bendy. not good sex anyway, more like monk-fuck. this is so much better than endless cups of coffee in the morning. it's done wonders for my butt. i have an Iggy ass now. this is why i do this. and for the spirit stuff, too.

Atalan: and i'm the lawnmower.

Cotard: the open field does need a trim, but i kinda like its earthy look.

Kenyatta walks away on her trademark handstand.

Cotard: don't walk away yet, my dear, we must help our ailing friend.

Kenyatta: i love you, Cotard. and i'm gonna really have to love you, Ata.

Cotard breaks off a branch from a tree which immediately gives the tree slime flux. he waves it around his beard and while Atalan is distracted pulls a cup of dark liquid from Ata's ear.

Cotard: drink this, it's ancient black magic.

Atalan (drinks): tastes recent.

Cotard: it's Delsym. i shouldn't have left one of my candles in the toilet-paper room, huh. i just thought i needed a light in there to see. my bro and sis, do something for me: all that matters is this one moment, nothing that has come before or since matters. now that your mind is cleared, i want you to go on a journey with me, a musical journey. life=music=life. i spent gallons of blood sweat tears and poopoo trying to locate this track on the internet, i heard it in passing one anime night and have been wondering what it was and how i'd get my grubby little hands on it ever since. i finally found it after going on a hard journey. the only way to justify all the strenuousness on my body is to share it with others, loved ones, so they can see what makes me tick and remember me when i'm gone. so listen to this, notice every sick beat and melody, move your upside-down body to the music, and join with me in one body, one spirit in Spaghetti, just let go and let Goddess. exhale. only exhale. close your eyes. you're feeling better already, aren't you?


the journey begins only right now.


Monday, January 12, 2015


1. where you live what is the current season? everlasting summer. wait, just to make sure, let me turn turn turn

2. do you measure/report the weather in C or F? i use a water clock so my alarm is the lawn gnome coming through my window, slapping me on the head, and telling me the midday temps.

3. describe your ideal day of weather: no weather cos i'm in outer space, floating, on the Enterprise's holodeck where i programmed the program that allows a human to fly in space without a helmet and suit, just his wings.

4. when it is cold outside i want to: a) run outside naked exhilaratingly b) bundle up in warm clothes and go for a winter walk c) turn the heat up, stay indoors, make it rain, hibernate till warm weather returns d) i don't pay attention to the weather: i bundle up and run outside with exhilaration. it's still exhilarating cos i hardly go out. then i turn the heat down to approximate the outside conditions and i completely naked make it rain in my house. it's Monopoly money but it still counts. then i really get naked and take my yearly artist bath. i do not pay attention to the weather. i hibernate until i turn into a bear.

5. do you "go commando" in winter or cold weather? nope. make love not war.

6. for ten thousand smackers would you rather ride a bike for a mile in 7 degrees F or jump naked into a freezing cold Alaskan lake in winter? see all of these beautiful old men with beards above? they're my life, they're my Polar Bear Club. even that last old man.

7. what is your favorite piece of winter clothing? i like to wear nothing but my long scarf. the scarf always seems to fall into place exactly covering my penis tho sometimes my penis is a little longer and sneaks its head out.

8. have you ever worn long johns aka long underwear or thermal underwear? yes. i got teased for it in the lockeroom. the rest of the tough boys on the water polo team would strip down naked and take ice baths before the big game and there i was wrapped from head to toe like a mummy in my thermal beige cloth wraps. they called me horrible names like "mummy". later i found out that dude, the last old man up there, had mommy issues and was mad about a missed carpool. all of these boys later became my Polar Bear Club. we do yerba mate together and reminisce on that time we lost the water-polo semifinal 7-1.

bonus: do you have more or less sex in the winter months vs. other times of year? it was winter and i got it stuck on the flagpole, it froze in place there. even after watching the movie i still made that mistake. there are hazards to winter fucking. my (tongue) lost all feeling after.



Friday, January 9, 2015




* first of all, here's to all the generations who came before who didn't live to see this day. college football's champion is finally being determined by a playoff. 4 is not 8 but we'll take it. what took so long? money, right? it's always money. i love you, Grandpa, i love you, Dad. you are all in our hearts forever. now all that's left to do is go back to the days where there was no forward pass to make it a truly authentic college experience.

* Ducks vs. Bucks. bet you haven't heard that one before. let's expand this (like from 4 to 8 teams) and add the word fucks. both teams have the O. the fans of the team that wins will engage in post-match couplings and use their O faces (perhaps on the field). the fans of the team that loses will show their O faces on the field, mouths open in shock.

* Phyllis from Mulga and Colin Cowturd: the hate sex would be so hot it would singlehandedly expand the playoff field to 8 teams right then and there: CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

* the Oregon O is tilted 27 degrees to represent Oregon's 27 bowl appearances. the O in Ohio State represents a breakfast pizza. sorry, typing this in the middle of eating.

* Johnny Manziel would have been awesome playing in this game...

* Gov. Chris Christie will be up in the bleachers wearing a sweater that is half-green/half-red. it's still Christmas kinda.

* i feel sorry for Saban now. his tunament shine is wearing off. speaking of tuna, i want a timestream where Saban goes back to the Dolphins and has to buy groceries for Bill Parcells. see, Nick, this is what happens when you can't crack a (genuine) smile even when you win. good karma will get you eventually.

* Marcus Mariota is dreamy like Brady. we cringe at the thought of an NFL without Tom Brady, but never fear, Mariota is the Golden Boy's replacement! Mariota is gonna be the awesomest system quarterback ever.

IT'S EASY TO PLAY!!! simply predict which team, Oregon or Ohio State, will win it all come Monday night and predict the final score. the winner of this blog game is the one who correctly predicts the winning team and is closest to the actual final score. the winner gets 3 comments from me to your blog. use my entry in the comments as your guide. void where prohibited, but it's not prohibited anywhere except Alaska and Hawaii. okay, not Hawaii cos Mariota is from there. not Alaska either, let bygones, y'know, the election is long over. no purchase necessary though in order to play you will have to pay for my root canal. i'll see you guys Tuesday or so with the results. have fun. man, finally!


Wednesday, January 7, 2015


Ferm: so?

Xat: it's shattered in three places, but definitely more. my leg is out of commission for the time remaining. no more commissions for me. can you believe we still use these cast things?

Ferm: they're futuristically silver now, not white. we must learn from the ancients, they're ancient for a reason. stop skirting the issue.

Xat: i know, it's about the skirts and how empty they all were. except for you. the sex is wrong, wrongish, because after the lust and the extra-added filling for the taboo aspect, what man strives for is love, and i felt love with you. that's all that matters, nothing else matters, sex comes, and goes, but what remains is the feeling between two people that bonds them, whether by red blood or not, it's two people who connect, share information, are warmed by each other's natural heat. i don't want to hear the word cyber again.

Ferm: you just did. and i've moved on. or moved forward. i'm all about that alien action. a true truth. i've left you.

Ferm leaves.

Xat is stuck in the lab his (father's) money built. he is also stuck in a hoverwheelchair, his broken leg sticking out like a sore thumb as he leans his weight against the workdesk. he is stuck, he is seeing things differently but he must move his body again easily.

Tob has been moved to the CL's private resort room. there are waterfalls, chocolate and water. the CL dances in and gives the most genuine smirk you can imagine, which is difficult cos smirks by their very organic nature are fake. in behind him is his pet Tibetan Mastiff.

CL: told you.

the CL closes his eyes and gives an anime smile to the room as he points at his dog and laughs.

CL: what can i do for you today on this lazy Sunday, my beautiful people? pork? lobby? let's have some pork in the lobby.

Ferm: sir, we don't have that kind of time. the Earth is about to explode or worse.

CL: who are you? how did you get in here? oh yes. wait, what? oh yes, i dunno, so, yeah, what are we doing here, my secretary took a long vacation after the winter break, that's how they get ya.

Ferm: he's probably dead, sir. this is Tob plopped on your table. he is the alien we fished from space, the only one who can save us. he is the only one who can locate where the life-saving ore is in outer space with his alien powers. he has a panel here of buttons that we've been trying to push in various combinations to get Tob to zero in on the big lodes of ore so we can send someone out there to mine it, no use detecting the small lodes.

CL: thank you for the debrief, i knew all that but it's nice to hear it in a mellifluous lady voice. you should be on my staff, fetching me lemonade and whatnot.

the CL lights a real genuine Cuban cigar, plops his feet on the table inches from Tob's face and crosses his shoes.

Tob: imagine a shoe stamping on an alien face...forever.

the CL gets a call on his hovering intercom.

CL: oh goody! i love prank calls! it's actually more fun to receive them, you can use your imagination as the caller is telling you to imagine something.

it's Xat on the line.

Xat: sir, because of my leg, i had to recline at a certain angle. the light hit my micromicroscope in such a way i couldn't see before when i was upright and centered. i moved my science equipment accordingly and discovered a red speck on the ore sample on my slide that wasn't there before. i was seeing this while almost upside-down on my head, literally and figuratively, you have to move the slide accordingly, too. without this micromicromicro stuff that's the latest in technology, i would never have spotted it.

CL: hit the spot. it hit your spot. you have me to thank of course.

Xat: no, dammit, i'm low but not out of it yet. it was my money that paid for the research and development.

CL: sure, okay, take credit, it's all the same in the end, it all comes together as one in the end, we were never working against each other, just on two imaginary sides of the same imaginary bitcoin. i put in some money, too, you have to admit, even though you didn't know about that. i also developed the prototype.

Xat: sir?

Ferm: sir?

Tob: wut

Tibetan Mastiff: wuf

CL: sure, sure, i was also a painter in a previous life.

Xat notices something during the CL's trademark animated motioning of his hands and feet as he talks.

Xat: i can see it through the intercom despite being so far away on an intercom screens. i have good eyes, better than most. sir, and i use that term loosely cos we're foes, but sir, you don't have any cyber parts attached to your inner body, do you?

CL: nor on my person. very good, nice observation.

Xat: how? why?

CL: oh well you know, i love myself. actually, it's more like i love being myself. i love to sigh and burp and fart and sing and dance and drink chocolate waterfall and use my feelers to feel my dog's head when i pet him, to share a kiss with my dog's tongue, to dance with my dog on all twos, to have sex, well to have the opportunity to have sex, and to sigh after sex, to trip and fall on the catwalk, oh how i loved my facial pain after that fall.

Zhu: a qerbillion views for that fall, sir, beating out Justin Bieber M. it was so shocking because the CL is always graceful, never falls from.

CL: i didn't treat the wound, i let the blood drip over my cheek. oh how i love life.

Tibetan Mastiff: wuf

CL (smirking): now get your cheeks over here, my boy, we have a life to save!

Xat: i can't, remember, i'm immobile, i'm stuck in this chair.

CL: just fly, fly with your thoughts, it's all connected with a computer, right? it's all wifi and shit, right?

Zhu: still with plugs, still need your code. we haven't accomplished the wireless version yet, sir, it's still in R&D, still a month away.

CL: tech goals, life hacks, that's what i want to hear, hear hear, never be satisfied, always the next thing, always leading to the next thing, always more work to be done, it hasn't all been catalogued yet, that's why it continues. the future is the future, not the accomplished present. the past is dead, forget it, learn from it but forget it.

Xat wills himself past busy hovertraffic on the ballleaper-filled streets, has to jaywalk, and there's a couple flights of escalator stairs and armed security guards who taze him despite knowing who he is, because knowing who he is, till the man reaches the CL's door. his wheelchair is long gone. he's a stump, a white block of matter, plopped in front of the CL for his enjoyment.

Xat: thanks for nothing. here it is.

Xat punches his information into Tob.

Tob: you know, he does kinda look like Bill Belichick, doesn't he?

Xat: yeah, has that air of mystery.

CL: except i show my charismatic side. i used to look like Schopenhauer's hologram but that was so played out. i don't like things explained, i like games of chance and playing and not knowing what the final outcome is gonna be. why play the game if you already know the final score? Bill only showed his charismatic side in private. also, i'm wonderfully bald.

the quick interaction between friends buoyed Tob's spirits again and he was ready to get to work finally.

CL: did your research indicate anything else?

Xat: no, what do you mean?

CL: Indicate. Indicate. Indicate anyone else?

Xat: no, everyone works for us.

CL: sure, us. U.S. Unified System.

the CL lets out a hearty sigh.

CL: i see, i see. oh well, maybe later you'll see. onwards and offworlds!

Ferm takes this as her cue and she pulls out a newayz stick that she kept in her nail kit, unzips it out, and sticks it into Tob's face.

Tob: fuck, i'm used to the pain by now but it still hurts.

Ferm: love you baby.

Tob: love you, too, space baby.

Xat: seriously?

the CL smirks lovingly.

Xat: yes, yes, i see it now, i can see clearly now, the pain is here...

Ferm: sorry.

Ferm sticks the stick in harder, deeper.

Tob: ow, baby, i said stop, i'm reaching something but your pain is distracting me.

Ferm: it always has to hurt, it has to hurt to make you see.

Tob: fuck that hurts. look, folks, everyone who can see cos i can't, i'm operating on instinct, my eyes are closed so i can see better, the black makes the white stars shine. this is the truth, humanity, is the intercom on? are you getting this, CL? is this being broadcast to the screens? this is the truth of the universe...

on the screens in the CL's office:

* hi, me again. i'm brought to you by Big Debbie's Nutty Bars. have you noticed that certain hashtag superinstagram words have, like, an insane number of pics and others don't? i mean, if you type in #life, you get 100 million hits of pics. if you type in #amazing, you get more than 100 million pic hits. if you type in #selfie, you get even more. if you type in #self...

* and now, Wolf Spritzer with today's news of the crash:

Wolf: hey Non.

Non: it's Nan.

Wolf: Nan, don't i look good in my suit?

Nan: spiffy, sir. this is serious, report the news.

Wolf: how's my lighting? i want the light to bounce off my newly-shaved beard. twenty years younger easily. folks, what's this? i've just been handed a bulletin. terrorist attack in France? why wasn't i notified of this?

Nan: the lighting's fine, sir.

Wolf: i dunno, i don't trust you, you change names. folks, i'm sorry i don't look like Jesus anymore, i look like an ordinary Charlie. *hologram sigh* we'll just have to manage this way. where did freedom of artistic expression go?

Nan: the lighting's fine, sir.

Wolf: good. i told you, didn't I Non? i said when the End Times came, CNNN would cover it first. the people would see my beard first on their screens reporting on any horsemen galloping by, CNNN, worldwide fucking leader now and forever, until the end. fear the beard. getting paid tonight. i make this look good. Anderson, what are you doing here? get back down there!

Anderson: hey, i still have one more day. whatever, Don Apricot's beating your ratings over at Puma.

Wolf: ha, i see Billy breathing on the glass. he wants a piece of you.

Anderson Cooper: Billy Corgan, let's have a sit-down interview.

Billy Corgan: i'm not getting paid for this. you will pay for this.

Anderson: look Billy, yes, i made fun of you over that ridiculous magazine cover you did where you're brandishing that trademark creepy smile of yours holding cats, but...

Billy: that hurt, man. i'm already a depressive, you can't publicly mock an influential depressive like me and hope to get away with it! i course i'm gonna strike back with the FUCK YOU ANDERSON COOPER t shirts.

Anderson: i know but actually that just denigrated the beauty of those cats. i like cats, too, it was a joke.

Billy: life's not a joke, it's serious. not everything can be categorized into a RidicuList item. and how dare you! this is how you treat your gods? that's sacrilege!

Anderson: i know, i'm sorry, you weren't the god we all know now at the time. i take it all back, i suppose. the point is, this is the stupidest feud of all time.

Billy: well

Anderson: huh? i mean, come on, there's so much tragedy in this world and this is what we're fighting over? why did it even start?

Billy: you started it. i can forgive, i'm the bigger man with the bigger bald head, i'm a god in fact. i suppose. alright, come in, in my body, bro hug, i can slap any man on the back.

the two hug.

Anderson: i'm having a religious experience. your hug is binding me down, blinding me, like a clamp. i'm feeling something in the ether.

Wolf: feel that? the air of mistrust, of the government, not knowing the outcome, wondering when the next terrorist attack will occur. was the airplane crash terrorism? folks, this is serious, this isn't a game. see how weather is our enemy? nobody up there cares for us, the weather isn't our friend, just another hurdle we have to deal with, just another in the long list of whims and fancies that add up to our completely random and capricious lives. nobody knows when the end will come, except CNNN is first to report that the CL isn't having luck discovering more ore so the end is nigh. vague vagaries, none of us know when the end will come. has the wreckage been found? the wreckage from this air disaster will never be found, the tail might have been found, it lies as a tale inside the hearts and minds of those left behind. Left Behind is real. we here at CNNN have developed a pie chart, see? it shows how much time, approximately, our experts feel will pass before we start to get real answers. Miles as you can see says it could take weeks. our other aviation experts, like that guy with the porn stache, says months. it's all a kind of race, y'know? it's a race to see who's right.

Kari: give it up!

the crowd goes wild.

Skip: Kari, Kari, before we start, can i ask my friend Stephen Naismith a little ol bitty question? oh i don't know.......HOW BOUT THEM COWBOYS?!!!!!

the crowd goes wild. Stephen wears a nice tailored suit and a scowl, which is the opposite of a smirk.

Stephen Naismith: ask me that on Monday.

the crowd boos.

Kari: how was your weekend, Stephen? where did you go? what clubs? that's all that matters, forget the players, they're not important, they don't grant us interviews anyways, the games themselves and the participants don't matter, only we matter, the (voice of the) fans, what we think about the games, not the players, what they go through, practice, talking about practice, they are bought and their concussion senility is paid for, they're forgotten except for the final score, it's what we think, we speak for the little guy, we're the ones doing all the work here! if we don't like it, it's not well-received.

Stephen and Skip in unison: well said. we argue a lot, take opposing sides, but we are all brothers, no boys' club here, we all put our heads down on the cool side of the pillow.

the crowd goes wild.

Skip: so, SuperSuperBowl coverage? yeah, we'll be there, we'll film all the locations the three of us go to eat! my brother is the World Chef!

CL: i'm hungry. Chinese everyone?

Zhu: i'm half.

Tob: look. put it up on the screens, do you feel that? baby stop for just a minute, the pain is intense.

Tob's eyes bleed red blood.

Ferm smirks and pushes harder.

Tob: please, please. look inside yourself, past the cyber stuff, or before it, when we were all human. flesh. bone. feeling. love. that's it.

everyone closes their eyes but only after the CL closes his.

CL: my people, do as i say. love. yes, love. the universe was once a marble, but who first flicked it? what was that energy? Neil Tyson punches holes in all of our theories. it was some sort of string theory but with two sides, not multi, not helix the other one, and then add to that space brownie, turns out it's more brown when you account for inflation and dark energy, the hologram layer of frosting all against the backdrop of background independence, named after an obscure Russian scientist whose name escapes me but we're trying to escape.

Tob: no, these are all the mechanics of it. but what is it? what is it exactly?

CL: can't be exact.

Tob: exactly. Heisenberg. uncertainty.

CL: that's who it was, Heisenberg.

Ferm: you're goddamn right.

CL: I Am Heisenberg.

Tob: we all are, we all operate under that. when you observe something, the moment you see it under a microscope, record it, place it at a certain space, it ceases to be at that space, it doesn't exist anymore. so where does it go? where did it move to? how does it move? perception really is reality, it's all we've got to grasp onto, for what is reality?

Xat: apart from us. is there such a thing? it's all us, it can't be forgotten, it remains catalogued in space, it's forever observed by the observer, hive mind, we are all a part of it.

Ferm: we are it.

Tob: everyone, close your eyes, think of Billy Corgan. he was a master to me as well on my home planet. he's making me not as lost now though my planet is lost. think of Billy's music, the wondrous magic of the ancients which survives today to clue us in to our past. a past of hope, holding hands, swaying to the beat. listen to the guitar riffs, the rhythm of the human beat, the chords, the riffs, the creativity which springs forth that a computer clock cannot time the occurrence of. it comes when it comes. it's messy and bloody and full of doubt. it trips up. it is the very force. it is what it is. it is. it is all.

Ferm and Tob look at each other with wet eyes of different wetnesses, witnessing each other, looking at each others' looks.

Ferm (softly): beauty.

Tob: yes, but more.

Xat lets out an inner sigh, a cybersigh. his inner thigh is real and it hurts. his glands are cyber.

Xat: love.

Tob: remember


CL (one eye open): yes, we all had to learn it in school. i hated it at first cos it was just another test but i mandated it in all schools when i became the CL. seems like forever ago. i was always CL. knowledge remains. quizzes fade, theories, papers, degrees burn up in the atmosphere, but the memory remains, the feeling of the memory. i love this song, it's so pure, pure guitar-driven moonrock, i love it at the end when our savior Billy says his band was, is, and forever will be The Smashing Pumpkins.

Tob: despite the breakup. you can't break up the spirit that came together to create this music, spirit never dies. it's always interesting to hear the leader of a band actually say the band's name, to hear that, the saying of "Smashing Pumpkins" in Billy's voice, the way Billy envisioned it sounding when he came up with the name of the band. imagine Kurt saying the word "nirvana". that's how nirvana should always be pronounced from now on. now. on. a or ah. ah.

Tob's white square of a body is sweating profusely. the panels on Tob's panel light up, the buttons are pushing themselves in the correct combination: the musical cue, DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN


CL: the planet oh wow? or the substance? the ore? who's making that musical cue? it sounds familiar, like something the ancients taught us in a movie long ago when it was still called sci-fi. where's it all coming from?

Tob: us.

Ferm puts her sweaty head on Tob's head and the two collapse into a ball.

Xat: i felt that. i heard the herd. i couldn't see it with what was fitted in me. i taste it. i smell it despite the depression blockage. i see it all fits together. i'm pregnant.

a dripping of Ferm's sweat falls down her pursed lips. her cheeks are red and sore. she smiles.

Ferm: it's the best exercise. the best workout to work out.

on a faraway planet, in a galaxy so far away it barely exists to the Earth of the future, there is a huge lode of ore lining the outer edges of a planet. this is what everyone was looking at, or feeling through towards. it was a planet, not a rock as first thought, a bluish planet.

the planet imperceptibly spins on its axis, sure, it follows all the natural rules, the natural order, but when Tob and Ferm fell into each other, the planet jerked suddenly a mile to the right, into the range of everyone's senses.


Tuesday, January 6, 2015


1. what book/magazine have you read recently that turned you on? a white card in the middle of my Mad Magazine advertising a lower-back specialist. my lower back hurts a lot. it's sore forever.

2. what sort of porn do you watch to get aroused? what is that? my email automatically gets rid of all the spam before i turn on my computer each morning.

3. what is the sexiest song? "Birdhouse in Your Soul"

4. what music do you like to have on while having sex? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK. the chorus of this song is how i perfected my O face. then afterwards, my lover and i smoke a Twix.

5. when masturbating do you prefer a) reading smut b) imagination c) watching porn d) i don't masturbate: pure imagination. incidentally, apparently there's this meme of a man in a purple coat and a brown hat going around.

bonus: what is the (song with the) sweetest (beats) sexy song? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.