Monday, March 30, 2015


1. who has been the biggest influence in your life? my parents, my dad God rest his soul for being my intellectual and kindness example and my mom for being despite a very hard childhood the best person who ever lived. if i don't stop now i'll cry and won't be able to continue.

2. what kinds of things really make you laugh? everything when i'm sipping a 40.

3. what's your favorite place in the entire world? inside your imagination

4. who is your best friend? what do you admire about him/her? Koda, see above. he's a caveman who was trapped in ice for a really long time and emerged with, well, let's say a limited vocabulary but he's getting better. he stumbles and stutters a bit but he is a paragon of virtue. he probably won't be using the word elliptical in conversation but he sure does work that elliptical! and he was ice-neighbors with Walt Disney. he wants to reunite with his little brother, the two were separated by a sabre tooth tiger. i tried to tell Koda that it was a CGI tiger but he's still having PTSD after the incident. if any of you guys stumble upon a stray Energem, please give it to my friend or his team, follow a dude who looks like E.T. in a hood to their secret location. he loves his burgers, he will eat any burger with no qualms, eat it whole in one bite. SPOILERS!!!: Kendall is the Purple Ranger and that hot babe at the end of the episode serving them at the cafe is the Aqua Ranger, MAYBE. i admire this man greatly. i was a little hesitant to join the bandwagon just cos i'm not generally a joiner but


i was hooked forever.

5. what's your biggest goal in life right now? being the best friend i can be

6. what was your family like growing up? see 1. i only got mad once during my childhood, when my mom didn't get me a Power Rangers toy i wanted one Christmas...

bonus: what is the one thing about you that would surprise us? i've never laughed out loud in my life.



Friday, March 27, 2015



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

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

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

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

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

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


have a restful weekend.


Wednesday, March 25, 2015


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenyatta: shit, wait here. wait, here.

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

woman: i was delirious there for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenyatta: help me out here, sis. anything?

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

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

Sunsong: a gift to Emblem from the American ambassador.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunsong turns on the radio.

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Monday, March 23, 2015


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

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

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

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

4. what are you wearing right now? butter

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

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

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



Friday, March 20, 2015



THEN please answer the following questions in the comments:

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

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


Wednesday, March 18, 2015


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

Imzhan is sound asleep, snoring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Codrus: i meant literally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Imzhan lets out a huge fart that smells of meatballs.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Monday, March 16, 2015


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

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

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

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

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

bonus: i have an overactive______ was just my imagination.



Friday, March 13, 2015


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


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

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

* Southern lawyer trope even in space

* so close, the judge was almost Solomon there.

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

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

* people can't date humans.

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

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

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





happy weekend. hi, i'm high.


Wednesday, March 11, 2015


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

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

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

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


excuse me.

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

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

excuse me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, March 9, 2015





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

* reaffirmation of how much i love pancakes


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

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

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

falling in love takes 1/5 of a second.

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

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

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

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



Friday, March 6, 2015


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


* who's the cute redhead?

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

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

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

* i was born of man.

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

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

* nightmare trees. like, bad pot?



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


Wednesday, March 4, 2015


Cucumber: i was strangely calm when i pulled you out though we were in the midst of something that had never happened before. i think i knew. i knew you. and i knew me for the first time. nobody had ever survived a fall into the water like that from that far up.

Yayray: where does that come from? experience? i hate being young.

Cucumber: it's just there are some things far more frightening than death.

Yayray: i'll keep that in mind. do you have a clean shirt? the dripping is getting annoying.

it's the store that's adjacent to The Store, Beirich, the one-stop shop for all of your goods and trinkets, and food. it's a local pop-and-pop store quaint to the picaresque villagers. they did what Yayray commanded-

Yayray: it wasn't a demand, it was a request, my stomach growled at me to more than me. that thing is a wolf.

-after a harrowing water rescue that was caught on viral. the hits were slow at first but you only need one Perez to make the thing go. it was now more popular than anything Atalan was doing in far-off exotic lands, which defeats the purpose of travel to some degree and increases the importance of always traveling with a camera.

Yayray is at the butcher's ice section with a dripping wet shirt. the rescuer Cucumber is also dripping wet but still looks cool in those shades and the scuba back tanks on his back. the ice flow of the breeze is solidifying the tears on Yayray's face. the rescuer Cucumber is also the butcher.

Cucumber: what'll it be?

Yayray: another shirt, preferably one that's trendy. i don't get trends. which is to say i don't know a lot about the world. i really want to learn more. in fact i want to know everything there is to know. the computer helps me, too much. my aunt says i should go outside but she only goes out to work. my dream is to be a contestant on Jeopardy. i'm young enough to still join the Kids Show but i'm setting a date for somewhere around the Teen Show and the Tournament of Champions.

Cucumber: no College Show?

Yayray: college is a waste of time and money.

an old man in a thin beige jacket and red nose crawls his way into the tomato-soup aisle. no, he literally isn't on the floor of the aisle, he's bumbling his way ON the aisle itself, stretching his hands and feet like suction cups on the next can as if he's climbing a mountain. except horizontally. and there's no rope. not even a carabineer. the carabineer is a can of cucumber soup. his hair is tousled but strangely combed at the base of each of his ears. he has more nose hair than head hair.

Yayray: what's your name, fool?

Cucumber: so i'm gonna go ahead and charge you for the filet mignon. don't worry, it was in white paper slightly scuffed by my boots, see? so that's a discount. hundred bucks clean. i hope your aunts are rich.

Yayray: they're not, they're agony. this oldblood would look like the dude from Up had i seen that movie.

old man (perfect diction but weary diction, sad diction): my name is Esid.

Yayray: Esad? eat shit and die?

Esid: no, Every Situation Is Different, but i deserved that. i'm lost, i thought i was so cool, so sure about something, but i'm not so sure anymore about that that in turn makes me existential about everything. it's The Dress all over again. you know Jock?

Yayray: of course i know who the Jock is, everyone's favorite alien, the alien that taught us about our humanity. they don't make actors of that class anymore. i can't do the sign with my fingers, i'l learn, i'm still young.

Esid: it's like riding a bike. i can't make the sign anymore cos of my finger osteoporosis. he was a good friend of mine but i had a previous engagement that seemed precious so i decided to skip his funeral.

Yayray: bad mistake old man, but we'll let it slide, you're probably senile so built-in excuse. Jock was an iconic figure, though, he was an everyman and a symbol of everlasting intellect to the scholars. he represented learnedness and culturedness and calm. he was an ally to jock and nerd alike. all jocks are secret nerds. i mean his funeral is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, it's never quite the same event ever again, like SNL's 40th. you REALLY had to go to this previous function?

Esid: but i helped people. i honored him, kinda, let the dead sleep and continue with the living as they say, or as i just made up. but the press don't care. the fans don't care, the fans wanted me at the funeral for their supergeek insta pics. truth, i didn't like the guy as much as people thought, we smoothed over our differences on set during the original run but that stuff seems to linger around, it's never quite over, it slurries in the subconscious, a more dangerous spot than the conscious. but Jock will always be the brother i never had.

Yayray: sounds like the aptest description of what a brother really is. i'm dreading my upcoming AP Test, i don't do well with book learning, i'm a google scholar. it's never smooth sailing always, hardly ever. love is the hard part, you can dispense with like on a whim. you were an actor? i don't recognize you.

Esid: were. was a legend. now i'm a pitchman for various companies, insurance, ducks, swans, that sorta thing. i dominate the con circuit. you seem to know a lot about Jock but not so much me, not that i'm jealous.

Yayray: when i'm passionate about a specific topic, i zero in on it fiercely and before you know, i've memorized everything there is to know about the subject. there is no knowledge, only memorization.

Esid: well young man, carry on and stop when you no are calm, that's your body signaling to you that you need to smell the roses, reflect on your life, and make better decisions. when it's never gonna happen again, that's when you do it, when it can happen again, those are the ones you skip. seems a pretty simple rule of thumb. but nothing's simple at my age, i don't have a simple thumb to give you a thumbs up with, it's osteopororised to fucking hell. would you help me move myself? can you reach for that roll of wax paper? thank you. i'm gonna skirt out of here wearing sunglasses so i don't draw attention from the paparazzi, go home, bake the peanut cookies i would have taken to the funeral, then wrap the wax paper over them, never eat them, pray over them, and have a moment of smelling silence where i'll smell them. and then i'll drape the wax paper over me and go to sleep.

Yayray: sounds comfy, i miss my blanket, but my aunt stole it.

the young man stalks a nice woman in the next aisle. or he stalks some ingredients and the nice woman happens to be there.

woman (sweetly): hello. sweet tooth?

Yayray had already been taking out a bottle of cinnamon sugar, loosening the cap, and downing the entire container of powder down his gullet.

Yayray: nah, just hungry, well hangry. now i'm back to being just hungey. i've calmed. Snickers effect.

woman: same. Snickers at midnight, i love those. so you weren't doing the cinnamon challenge?

Yayray: i don't know trends. you won't tell your manager, right? come on, they won't notice a little cinnamon. Bonnie and Clyde?

woman: we are rebels, fire across the galaxy. i don't work here right now. i'm Pear.

Yayray: Pierre? Pirror?

woman: hold up. mirror? no, Pear. like Princess Peach's dumpy sister they keep in the mushroom basement. it's cos of my body shape.

Yayray puts his fingers inbetween Pear's breasts.

Yayray: babygirl, i don't care about outward appearance, i care about getting inside you. it's what's in your soul that counts, that holy space between ya tits.

Pear: funny meeting you in a place like this.

Yayray: right? my stomach is the master and i'm his wild dog on a leash. oh yeah, i keep forgetting, i have to pick up a cake for my stupid aunts.

Pear: did anything else happen to you today?

Yayray: nah, same old. my mornings are so stressed. i'm trying to learn, y'know, and my aunts don't provide a conducive space for it. wallab.

Pear: what?

Yayray: abendstimmung

Pear: i hate stupid Twilight.

Yayray: exactly. i think of wallab and i have to look it up on urbandictionary. i know it's probably not a word but it might lead me to a word i don't know so i can't take that chance. it never ends cos there are an infinite number of letter combinations. this is the struggle of the scholar.

Pear: here's sugar, salt, bleach, flour, cumin, those cute little spoons, high fructose, batter, and don't forget the cake pan, you won't get a shape without it. dough and lots of icing, you can always cover your mistakes by slabbering loads and loads of icing on it. are you sure you haven't been through a trauma? you seem frazzled.

Yayraj: thank you for getting all this stuff for me and putting it in my overstuffed little basket, saves me the time though i have to reaarange all the items you put in to fit it all in, that'll take time i don't have, i'm trying to learn, and my aunts leave a mess in the kitchen for me to clean up, i don't have the time, dirty pots and pans and greased silver spoons and floors mysteriously spotted with drips of cola. i had to pick up and put back a mucousy tissue that had fallen from the bathroom trashcan. and wash my hands again for the seventeenth time. that takes time i don't have. i hate my stupid aunts.

Pear: no, you just hate always being in a time crunch. i've helped you with that. give people a break, you don't know what they're going through, you'll only ever truly know what you're going through, it's an obsession with people cos it's all they know.

Yayray: i wish i was rich, rich wishing, i wish i could afford a maid and a chef and a bathroom attendant in top hat and tails and kid gloves and a red lining on the bottom of his slick black shoes to do everything so i'd always have time to think. i'm obsessive about thinking.

Pear: obsessions are good, that's how you learn, it's not worth it unless you can focus in on the worthy topic and memorize it to the bone. you can't learn about it half-assed, it's all or nothing, your brain starts to lose retention the older we get, and we're all getting old. by the second. you are rich, you just don't know it. at the end of a lifetime, what matters are the people you were with, the people we never chose to be with, that will always overflow with monopoly money.

Yayray: i'm awkward around girls, i haven't had much experience, i'm still young, but i just want to say awkwardly fits-and-starts stops-and-go minimart that you have been me today right now.

but she is not there anymore. Yayray is at the card-and-candy station. across is gardening.

Pear: may be meet again.

this sends Yayray on a subconscious concussive depressive carpet ride


Yayray is shaking hands with the special-needs floorsweeper like he usually does. he always feels uncomfotable in these situations cos he doesn't know quite what to say. he doesn't want to make fun of the poor kid of few cringing words but he also can't help but feel intellectually superior to the boy. Yayray is terrified his true self will shine through in the end.

Yayray: but you are my friend. i am genuine in this. no, really. you're the only person i've ever met that drops his broom and takes time to listen to what i have to really say. i appreciate that, i really do, inb4 i ever say anything condescending to you, i'm younf, still elearning.

Natalie (with pauses): you are-------my------kind of kind guy. how are you, Natalie? i mean i'm Natalie, how are you, my friend? whats you anme?

Yayray: that's okay, i forget it sometimes, too, it's hard to spell, easy to pronounce if you know the spelling.

the two chums proceed to start smelling the new boxes of scented garden bags and the new scratch-and-sniff anniversary cards.

Yayray (after a huge sniff): yeah, that's the stuff...think you'll ever get married?

Natalie laughs.

Yayray: yeah i get so compulsive i convulsion. i have to learn every single tidbit. sometimes when i'm in the aisles i see weird brand names that are sort of like words i already know and thus don't have to look up but sort of not. like it's not Tree Brand olive oil, it's Taguha. taguha? is that worth my time? do i have to look up taguha in urbandictionary? that can't possible be a word. but maybe it's a non-English word. better look it up to make sure. this all takes time out of my life. suck it, Trebek.

Pear: are you okay? you'll lose your space in line if you don't move.

Yayray is in line to check out. he sees Pear both in back of him and at the register as a cashier.

Yayray: i'm losing spaces of time. i don't rememeber. i don't space, my place. myspace is dead. and a new space forms, a new space that could be our place, that's what time is. i was talking to you when i became lost in a tabloid i was reading waiting to check out about that beloved reporter Miles who had a limb removed after a freak accident. i feel so sorry for him, i love his erudite way and sense of humor, why did it have to be him? he's so smart and funny and a good man, class. when did this happen? i never found out till now, i'm slow on the upkeep, i don't know what others know. it reminds me everyday that all of my nitpick bothers are just that, they're nothing and will never be nothing compared to a lost limb. i have to keep burning that into my mind every day like i'm a child, it's not that bad, you'll get through it, people have it worse than you, it's not a nightmare like it is for others, it's a dream.

Pear checker: no you are keeping up the line. no, this is the lane for ten items, you have 11, remember what i got for you in your basket? no you were talking to me about how worthless you felt, you wanted to be someone, someone in the spotlight, you wanted to get noticed, you wanted to be worth the birth.

the angry mob of the line starts to clap. the tension in the room goes from manageable to uncomfortable for Yayray.

Pear: but my dear boy, you are famous, you are something special, you are a survivor. we were talking about anime and you said your favorite was Neon Genesis Evangelion though you had never watched it. that is my favorite as well.

Pear and the ones in line and the manager comes out of her wood-door office and all the other shoppers and cart-luggers and card-buyers and florists stop what they're doing and start clapping right at Yayray. Yayray covers his ears but the din becomes louder, the din that's supposed to be singing.

everyone (clapping hard in unison to the beat of the song): HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...

Yayray never knew how much he hated that song and how much he liked that Regular Show episode on hating the old Happy Birthday Song and pining for a new one till now. he looks at the black conveyor belt and there is one item, a birthday cake all frosted and made and gooey iced with the icing HAPPY CONGRATULATIONSDAY YAMON. the clapping never stops. Yayray falls to the ground but the eyes get closer. there is nothing else to watch but Yayray. Jeopardy comes on at 7, seven years later, it's just the wet shivering boy in the middle of the circle.

the crowd (half singing/half shouting): CONGRATULATIONS, CONGRATULATIONS...

the mob (barely discernible melodies interspersed throughout the phony cacophony): CONGRATS ON SURVIVING TO YOU!

fainting is a short sleep, not an escape, not a final escape, not long enough to mean anything substantial. Yayray gets up against his will and willfully declares to Pear:

"you're the wet boy. you're poisoning me."

Pear: but you never drank anything.

water coughs out of Yayraj's mouth, ocean water in fits and spurts, comes out, comes out, vomits out.

Yayraj: no, in the spiritual sense of poisoning. the clapping won't end. it's more like the limbs of fists stomping together like the clanging of metal baseball bats.

Yayraj looks around and sees people in a new light. he thought Cucumber was a harmless soft cucumber, Esid was a prune, Pear was the Starbucks siren, but a sweet siren, and Natalie was a pie. now he sees them in a new light, like The Dress, Cucumber is a pickle, a sweet disgusting pickle, Esid is Esad, Pear is the Starbucks harpie, and Natalie is a stuffed dragon with plush red fire coming out his mouth.

the clapping will never end. birthdays should never be also deathdays. this is on the internet.


Monday, March 2, 2015


yeah i mean how could they have possibly determined what belongs here and what belongs there? what's white and gold to an executive is just gold to a peasant. this is how situations end up black and blue. stay gold, people, colorblind or not. don't let the light trick you, you're stronger than that, i believe in you. how can a system work when one group of people have an empirical absolute and the other have an empirical absolute that is scientifically diametrically-opposed to the first? is it first come first serve? speaking of coming.....................later. why continue blogging at all? nobody's forcing me. if there is no absolute truth, if it's all relative reality, why seek out new worlds, new, long, record long, expansive, wedding-dress trains of thought? to serve man is not a cookbook, it's a drivers' manual, it's a privilege, and absolutely right. somedays i cuddle, somedays i fuck, somedays i get fucked. i'm waiting for that one sweet day when i get cuddled. it's a fine day for freedom. what is Heaven? the Heavens? some great men have already figured that out. i never knew Spock, Data was my Spock, Data was my Spock-inspired imaginary friend. who is beyond the unknown universe? the continuing trek amongst the stars, or the cells of the space baby who will grow up to rebel against his Father and become a hologram instead, not a doctor. not a doctor. cos i'm happy........overplayed, deadened, but one thing that song got right was the low-lying beat, the tranquil mood, the moody atmosphere, the ambiance/decor, happiness isn't exuberant, it's mellow.

1. have you ever had sex in three or more positions in one sitting? name the positions: standing, vanilla, and rusty venture.

2. have you ever had sex continuously for more than one hour? was it all intercourse or other methods of sexual pleasure? i've had sex continuously now for decades. no intercourse, just licking. it started in the back of a senior-high-school-prom limo and never stopped. it all began innocently enough, she was licking on one of those Willy Wonka push-up ice cream things. and then things got Wonky.

3. have you ever planned an entire day to sex and sexual-related activities? (with breaks for eating)? we incorporate the food in the plan, only sexy food allowed, like whipped cream, butta, prune juice, and boysenberry syrup but no pancakes if you catch ma drift, wink wink. no dishes, we use our dripping naked bodies as plates. is that white stuff what i think it is? yep, sugar or salt, not coke. we cook dinner by candlelight and then use the candlewax for dessert.

4. have you ever been so loud/boisterous while fucking that the neighbors commented/complained? i broke the bed once when i was with my vampire bride. sure the neighbors complained, one hairy dude in particular, but he jus' hatin', i got his woman, he green, he eatin' the peanut butter and jelly. actually what do werewolves eat? like when they're not eating people?

5. have you ever had your sexual style/technique/skill openly praised by someone? yes, by Taylor Lautner.

6. have you ever gotten really turned on by saying or hearing dirty talk? not my own cos i'm just silly. but by beautiful, smart, clever, hot-as-fuck women i know and love, yes, when they do it, write it on their blog, that gets me in the low-lying mood. you know who you women are, let's do sex tonight!

bonus: what word(s) said during sex totally turn you off or distract you from the task at hand? "that's not my vagina, that's your hand."