Wednesday, April 29, 2015


Cotard snaps a twig off the frontyard property that's half-grey, half-green and chews on it as he makes a zigzag-pattern knock all over the front door.

Cotard: first time noticing all the dense shrubbery here. perfect hiding spot in the middle of the city.

Binny: he's here! he's here! hear that? a man!

Cotard (startled): sorry sorry i saw the shrub berry and it looked so sweet.

Quinny (to Binny): oh shush, not for you i can assuredly assume. oh it's Cotard! strange.

Quinny opens the door. then the heavy grey screen.

Quinny: don't you know we've got a big errand today?

Cotard: who knew a small cat would be so much trouble.

the kitten jumps on top of the front door the moment it's opened and stares at the monk with her bug eyes.

Cotard: girl it's your deadbeat dad come back home from the battlefield. where's my parade of licks, girl?

kitten: *nothing*

Binny: you're too late! she's ours now! you didn't pay child support on time! we went to court! we don't want her but she can't get enough of us. understandable. never knew how much more trouble girls are than boys, your parents never tell you these things. at first you want the girl cos she's gonna be softer, calmer, but then the crazy comes.

Cotard: i had a feeling i'd be right on time for the spay. i can take her from here. a million thanks.

Quinny: nonsense, we're family in the grandest sense of the word. well come on in, it's colder inside.

Cotard sits down on the floor then gets up to shake the hand of Yayray, who's been playing dice by the corner.

Cotard: hello young man, how are you holdin' up? don't answer that, i know for a fact you're doing better than me.

Yayray: just man.

Cotard: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yayray was squeezing Cotard's hand with a crushing handshake.

Yayray: shit, sorry, pray dude.

Cotard: it's okay, it's alright, i like that, you actually don't know your own strength as opposed to those who just say that but do. well you've obviously been doing something illegal.

Binny: come, sit a spell. we've got gray tea and italian beefs.

Quinny (scoffs): pshhh yeah you've got italian beefs alright.

Cotard (finishing the food and drink quickly): i enjoyed that immensely, thank you from my broken heart. it's one thing to sustenance yourself, quite another to sustain yourself with friends. when it comes to pleasure, i cannot exceed this right here.

Binny: but you do every night under the covers.


Binny puts her arm around Cotard.

Binny: these are the jokes, congregants. that's your line. buddy what's wrong?

Cotard: thank you, that was funny.

Quinny: it's not funny when the person responds "that's funny" instead of laughing. how's your tripping?

Cotard: sorry i've been distracted for a long time. i cut my trip short because i couldn't take it anymore down there. horrible scene, hopeless. and you're the one that is there to provide hope. it's hopeless. funnily, planes have completely disappeared off the news radar now that the next grand disaster is here. who would have thought that would have happened when we were in the middle of the 24-hour cockpit-door media blitz. if it's not broadcast, it never happened. ah Mount Everest, you must always respect the best. the mountain is the highest, not the human who climbs her, no human can ever be that high, only high. nature wins in the end, just ask the frenzied flying birds.

Binny: that hellfire pussy of yours is quite a piece of work. she left us scared.

Quinny: and scarred. poor baby.

Binny: every time she stopped moving we knew she was gonna lift that cute leg of hers and the three of us would gather around her in a circle as she would add to the low-lying smell of pee that pervades this home and lightly stains our clothes and ever-so-gently enters the pores of our bodies. you can't quite rub it off, you use tons of soap but it's still there slightly. and yes, she did it every time on cue. she loves the show. she is gonna be quite the actress, a favorite of producers cos you know she'll never miss an audition, she's always be on time. acting is like 90% punctuality, the rest you fake.

Quinny: our home has become a house of horrors full of white sheets everywhere. this has become pussy's personal pee palace.

Yayray raises his hand pronouncedly and says: i don't mind the smell. well not anymore. i suppose after awhile anyone can get used to anything.

Cotard: so how do you do it? how do you manage erryday? what helps you pull through and survive?

Binny: the trick is not to let her craziness rub off on you. i ignore a lot of things, it really does work. while she's peeing on a priceless pillow of mine i immediately avert my eyes to my typing.

Cotard: you do know there's no paper on your typewriter spools, right?

Yayray checks his phone and stats and starts scrolling down his instagram. he comes upon the latest in a myriad of motivational sayings which have flooded the site recently. this one reads: B, IF I FUCK YOU, WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, BEA? he turns off his phone with glee.

Yayray: i think i've had enough, there's nowhere else to go. but in a different direction. up. i want to be known for other things, things which cannot be memed easily. i want to do things, i feel it inside me.

Yayray takes the red game cup, rolls the dice in it around, and flips the cup over one last time. two dice spill out, two die, two girls one cup. oh, sorry, rather it's two dice and one


Cotard: i've seen those markings before. yeah those park-chess videos where the funny old man finds a stone similar to that one while he's feeding the pigeons, he goes bonkers talkin bout CIA conspiracies and how wax paper is better for spills than tin foil anyway, got a million views and likes instantly but only one person made it a favorite video of theirs. but he never ate the thing.

Yayray eats the beige pebble with the writing before Cotard finishes his latest sentence.

Cotard's eyes widen. so do the aunts'. the kitten turns around to face the boy with her crazy eyes, they are already widened as far as they can go.

Yay's eyes flash yellow for just a second. he raises his hand and points it at the kitten. the kitten's tummy area shines yellow and she collapses down off the door.

the aunts gasp.

Cotard: y'know watching one of these online, it's not the same, you really have to experience it live in cramped quarters, it's an arena football game to be sure.

the kitten falls into a deep sleep on the floor but not before she takes a nearby blanket and covers herself with it.

kitten: ew, it's still wet! i am so sorry for everything all, couldn't help it.

Cotard: well it's time to head out. i've always had a knack for knowing when it's time to leave a place. kid, i'd be more impressed with all of this but my depression is deadening my senses, it's the darndest thing.

Quinny: Ray Ray we need to talk about this but right now we have to leave for the vet.

Binny: i'm not believing what i just saw. boy you dealin' again? i thought our drug talk was strong but apparently you and the drugs were stronger. gotta get online and check out a mommy blog to really tell me what to do, i need to read real talk.

Yayray: guys that was Fun Dip. and it was one time. in kindergarten. Lik-M-Aid? the kitty isn't dead, just sound asleep, she needs the sleep desperately. a lot. we all do. but then we have to really wake up afterwards. we don't need to go to the vet, i spayed her instantly with my power. you'll see, she'll wake up calmer and suddenly more mature about things.

Quinny: i think i'm gonna have a talk with the vet first before we leave, this seems unusual.

Quinny phones the vet but she is busy having triplets.

Cotard: whatever needs to be done i'll take her...but let her sleep first. i can stay. oh no i can't, i think i need to perform a Mass or something now back at the spirit shack.

Cotard perches the sleeping kitty perfectly on his shoulder, touches everyone's shoulder and makes his way one inch to the front door.

Cotard (to Yayray): kid, just don't become a pirate. parrots are not meant to be on shoulders, only kittens are. (to the aunts) so how did you gals manage with this feline fireball?

Quinny: every time she did something wrong, i kissed her on the forehead.

Binny (mood whiplash): not quite. every time she did something, we kissed her on the forehead. the boy, too. the boy especially.

Yayray smiles knowingly, saying: love that munchkin. i understand her.

the aunts beam wide grins which are eating nothing.

Cotard tries to smile but can't. outwardly. but he does so internally.

Yayray: so pops, what's her name for heaven's sake?!

Cotard (opening the door then pulling it back, then looking up at the perch where the kitty was on top of the door and playing with his beard so much it tangles his fingers into it and knots his beard): hmmmm...........i got it.............Kiss............

........i mean it was either Kiss or Forehead, so.....

Monday, April 27, 2015



1. what was your biggest fantasy once you discovered sexy things? one of those black unlimited credit cards

2. did you get to do said fantasy and if so would you do it again? no, the monks frown upon that sort of thing. sure, in my fantasy.

3. was it as good as imagined? yes but we ran out of sriracha, something about them not making it anymore, smelly factories? so we settled for the year-old Taco Bell mild sauce packets in my fridge's clear sliding compartments. we both still came in each others' mouths and everything but it was mild sauce. good news, the packets still have those clever sayings on them, like Will You Marry Me? and other stuff i forgot. we got married that evening and became the Bonnie and Clyde of the underground sriracha black market.

4. describe said fantasy. thrusts, dumperplay, shadowplay, wordplay, then release, the release is the most important part, mutual release if possible. speaking of release, how do you guys get the sauce out of the packet? do you tear open a little corner or use the scissors? one time i tried to be sexy and tear it open with my teeth but i broke all my teeth and needed an expensive root canal hence the sriracha racket.

5. what is your biggest fantasy now? to love others as i have loved you

bonus: something you would NEVER do: get high when i'm already high on life. i mean, imagine me high, the space-time continuum, already precariously thin, would collapse into a black hole that not even Neil deGrasse Tyson could fly through.

please spare a thought for my kitty tonight. thank you. ^,,^



Friday, April 24, 2015



* you know who WAS cheering and clapping at this? Aesop.

* he wasn't egging the crowd on to cheer for his performance, there was a nasty fly buzzing around his face he was trying to swat.

* egg, face...

* breaking news: the fly beat him to the finish line, too.

* no, see, he thought this was a relay race and he had already passed his baton.

* winning runner: good game, man, good effort, these things happen.
runner with egg on his face: thanks, man, thanks for being such a good sport and not rubbing it in. hey man, do you know which way the camera is facing? this is the most embarrassing moment of my life and i kinda want to turn away from the camera and get the fuck out of here as fast as i can.
winning runner: dunno but it doesn't matter, you're a slow runner.


happy weekend.


Wednesday, April 22, 2015


Yayray sees a portal, a portal of light circling into being and a green-tea-ice-cream green ceiling with a panel hanging precariously.

Yayray: where's my phone? oh oh my head hurts. what happened? i only remember the girl.

Dr. Anxiety: that's like all my dreams. you are quite the spectacle, young man. you're here in my care at the hospital. you are quite famous, there were two sets of people here to check on you, one was Benedict Cumberbatch who is an island unto himself and he said he was your brother. lucky! the other was Patty and Selma.

Yayray: those are my aunts, tell them i am so sorry sorry sorry. oh yeah that guy is not my brother. my brother is dead to me. i just remember the sea.

Anxiety: we all will remember the sea one day. hey speaking of see, if you see Benedict again give him my card and this manila folder would ya? i can play a doctor on tv, too. it has my specs for sitcoms, headshots, and a little penguin key fob for Benedict cos, y'know.

Yayray: uh, sure, my hands are shackled with wires so sure. that can't be your real name.

Anxiety: it isn't, it's a nickname the other staffers gave me. each staffer offered the same name upon meeting me for the first time. they took one look at me and it stuck. general consensus. i'm Ansel so it follows. hungry?

Anxiety wheels out a large block of white substance.

Yayray: bedpan?

Anxiety: no, soy-cheese lick. this is the new and improved hospital food, lots and lots of soy cheese. new and improved. i think it's tastier but it's healthier at any rate. go on, lick in but don't eat too much, i'm saving my stomach for later.

Yayray clutches his midsection. Anxiety moves Yayray's hand to Yayray's heart.

Anxiety: when you are hungry, reach for your heart.

Yayray: the pain! what's this pain in me?

Anxiety: i have the same one. i don't know but it seems to always be there, huh?

Yayray: no, no. what do you do, Mr. Anxiety?

Anxiety: brain surgeon.

Binny: oh there's my baby! told ya, Quinn, it was 3F not F3.

Quinny: that's the problem with this world, nobody listens to each other, everybody is so wrapped up in their own little world that other people might as well disappear. fuck this labyrinth, i'll pay more attention next time when my Rayman plays those mazey vidya games, those things do develop the brain after all.

a large crow stalks the mob outside the hospital. an errant lit cigarette is tossed aside casually by a cameraguy. the crow's feet picks up the cigarette, waves it around a few times like a racing flag, and the cigarette turns into a small orb of fire. the crow takes a large fish swimming in a rainpuddle into its beak and cooks the fish by the fire. it had been saving time and opportunity for just the right nice dinner. when the crow thinks about his plan, his eyes light up yellow. meanwhile the cameraguy notices some commotion underfoot and checks it out. he finds his cigarette butt, is befuddled internally, leaves the butt as litter and returns to the commotion overfoot. when the cameraguy isn't looking, the crow takes the butt and transforms it into a windshield-wiper on a handle. the cameraguy can't sit still waiting, he turns around nervously, he was always taught to keep his head on a swivel for the story, he notices the wiper and picks it up by the handle.

cameraguy B: how on earth am i supposed to use this?

Binny rips all the wires from Yayray's arms, detaches him from the velcro of the pool of sweat that has formed on the bed and flings the boy over her shoulders, leaving without saying a word. she scoots out the backdoor and the two biddies are on their motorbikes before the duped press corps at the front of the hospital has a chance to embarrass themselves cutting across lawns to get their shot of the candidate for most newsworthy boy at the moment.

the house is grey but a dark grey that is deeply distinguishable from the current overcast sky. Binny has one violet eye and one calm ocean blue eye. Quinny has one ocean blue eye and one pinkeye.

Binny: got your medicine? did you make this trip worth it?

Quinny: yep. knowledge is important but not when it becomes no ledge. gotta have some stability, the anchor of sleep, there's always the next day to learn what you missed before. but i hate missing.

the two women plop Yayray down on his bed on one side of the room which is the only room of the house and get to work on the opposite corner. they both in unison unfold their suitcases which transform into typewriters and begin banging on their typewriters whose keyboards are splayed in such a way that they could be two sides of a giant keyboard, they touch corners just enough. that's where the unison stops. Binny is a banger of the keys who takes awkward jerky stops here and there to break up the action, she is in danger of breaking her typewriter each time, her silences are anxious in anticipation of the next bang rather than a true silence meant for introspection. Quinny is more of a steady rumble, quieter but always running.

Yayray (woozy): you know the info contained in my little smartphone here will always trump whatever the hell you two do all day.

Binny gives the evil eye to her nephew but it's a short break and she doesn't miss a beat taking out the next newspaper, scanning it with her lenses and fingering it left to right, crumpling it into a ball and missing the trash basket with it and typing typing typing. the sisters can't wear eyeglasses on account of their eyes.

Binny: not so, snapper, you don't know how to use that knowledge in your hand, it's a hot coal and you don't even know you're burning yourself. have you snapped back into place yet?

Yayray: sure.

Yayray clutches his midsection surreptitiously away from his aunts' view. he doesn't want to alarm them further. they're busy. they're always busy. they're good to him though.

Quinny: the little one peed on me again last night. i had the blanket over me this time though. learning is about adapting. five times more this morning. i don't know what i'm doing wrong, i serve her her water each morning, straight from the refrigerator tap, not from the tap but from ice cubes, chilled to our princess's perfect prerequisites.

Binny: mangy mutt! girls are crazier than boys. remember, from now on keep my door closed at all times!

Quinny: the poor dear is in serious heat. did you set up the appointment?

Binny (after a pause): oh yes, can't wait to get this over with! took the earliest available.

Quinny: she'll be calmer afterwards, you'll see. should i wash my soiled sheets every afternoon or wait till next week after the procedure to finally give it the washing of the century? by then it will be so stinky i will have become noseblind to it.

Binny: put the orange-stained mess in a clump next to her litterbox, that way she'll know this is her new second place to go, away from your bed so you can at least pretend to be dry as you're falling asleep, you can dream you're dry at any rate. keep your window open at night, look at that sky! the cold is good for your eye, the Moon heals the eyes. all for Cotard. what is that monkish scoundrel up to nowadays that he can't tend his only companions?

Quinny: something about a journey to a horrific plane crash, he has to do some good work down there for a long time, he skyped me in more detail but i don't do that. he said something about it taking a while, he stressed that, that the healing might not ever really happen or that it would take a lifetime. the plane crash was in the news but then it wasn't in the newspapers and i actually don't remember it happening at all anymore.

the kitten jumps up on Binny's lap and rubs her kitty head into Binny's human typing fingers.

Binny: see?

Quinny: ah ah ah, this might be all the love you ever get, my friend.

Binny: it's not really love, it's being in heat, it's craziness.

Yayray: one in the same, i should know. i'm looking at my screen right now, it's so glossy and clear, i can get a thousand front pages from all over the world instantly at the click of a finger. want the news in Klingon?

Binny: no, why would i want that? that's useless. i use my fingers for important matters.

Quinny raises her eye above her spool and catches Yayray in an uncomfortable gaze back at her. Yayray hated that; his aunt was always so good at that.

Quinny: does your non-dead-tree-edition contraption tell you what to do for gallstones?

Yayray: what?

Quinny: an educated guess based on all the observable facts and my vast storehouse of previously-collected-and-collated data.

Quinny uses her finger to hit at her temple.

Binny: are your blinds ruined in your room? the kit can't stop herself, she has to constantly look outside, she paws paws paws at them, bending them, fitting herself into them till she's on the other side.

Quinny: that is all of our journeys. really you should feel blessed that someone out there is looking out for burglars. the cat cares that you're safe.

Binny: curiosity...

Yayray: ...will kill us all. excuse me.

Yayray slips into his room, which is the far right corner with a blanket on top. he's been viewing on his smartphone that one seminal iconic image of Codrus placing a piece of beige stone on his slithering tongue with the words PUT THEM IN ONE VESSEL under him. just as Yayray is pondering the picture, going deep into it, well as far into it as the screen will allow, it's an HD screen but it's still a screen, Yayray feels the stones in his middle ache up again, move, tremble, bore their way through his body trying to get out and find freedom. he is in immense pain writhing on the floor covered up with the blanket fort that it looks like some naughty bumping-and-grinding activity going on under there.

Quinny: boy you got a girl in there with you? you know the rules.

Yayray closes his eyes. the circular portal closes up into the black circle again. the pain is so grand but it is measured, it comes in timed fits and starts, the black provides a canvas, each time a contraction occurs, red wavy lines appear on the screen of his closed eyelids. then the lines turn yellow, then for a split second bright pure white.

he opens his eyes and the Codrus image is right beside him, the static picture animates like a video but this isn't a video, is it? Yayray sees Codrus swallow the piece of stone then look directly at Yayray with a knowing stare and a shit-eating grin. Yayray tries to close his eyes again but can't. a yellow aura forms around his body core, Yayray moves to clutch his midsection and his grip hardens into a squeeze, he lifts his fingers gingerly and moves them in a perfect wave pattern, the stones rip through his skin, Yayray sees surgical stitches coagulate on his body as the stones come out and fall quietly to the ground.

but then the stitches disappear as quickly as they came. Yayray tries to keep up with everything his eyes are seeing, he is not in control, he is not making any of this happen, this is happening to him quicker than he can process it, he's watching the movie of his own life.

and then he sees all the blood, the blood which pours out of the tiny hole the stones caused in his stomach-area skin. the sight of the blood is more scary than the pain, how is he gonna explain this to his aunts without them worrying? he thinks about the poor kitty and looks at the floor, no blood, never any blood, clean floor, the stones are nowhere to be seen. he sees Aunt Binny pouring milk for the kitten, she's wearing the scarf over her head she wore when she was sick. she turns to lock eyes with him. her eyes are gentler than Yayray ever remembers seeing them when she was sick. she mouths to him:

"patience, we must all have patience, patience creates silence, patience creates nations."

he spies the corner of his blanket covering the view of the corner where Binny is trying to hide her pouring some


for the kitty from her family. it doesn't take long for the boy and his aunt with her hand in the kitty-treat jar to lock eyes, both are smart and there's a limited scanning area search field in here. the rest of the space is filled with search boxes.

Yayray waits for Binny to return to her station and he scootches his way over to the saucer of milk the kitten is furiously lapping. his slide transforms into a walking-on-all-fours. he tries to sip some of the milk but the kitten shoos him away with her head.

"come on, man," the kitten says, "go check the window to see if the milk delivery has come yet. i need this milk in this saucer more than you. i need to cool off."

Monday, April 20, 2015


i am inspired watching those marijuana millionaires on CNN so for this one day only, i'm gonna blog stoned. just this one day, happy 420 everyone:

1. April 1 is April Fools Day.
a) did you play any April Fools jokes on someone? yes, on myself.
b) were you the victim of an Aprils Fools prank this year? yes, i was mistaken for Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
c) what is the best April Fools hoax you've ever pulled?

senior prom everyone got invited but me. i bought an expensive corsage and limo and everything. ended up going to the alternative prom with my cousin Craig but we were the only two there. so, and i hate to admit this but i was a bit miffed, Craig and i spiked the regular prom's punch. i squirted some lemon Mio in there and Craig squirted some root beer Mio. sure it made the otherwise bland punch tastier but it looked disgusting. i never saw Craig after that.

2. what is your favorite unusual or non-traditional holiday to observe? Pretend You're A Turtle The Entire Day Day

3. do you observe any local or unique familial holiday traditions? every Easter Sunday, the lawn gnome in my backyard and i go to Denny's for brunch. i haven't showered in a year but it's okay. the heavy coat i wear hasn't been washed in a year, a grasshopper lives in the pocket. i put the gnome in the front basket of my bicycle and we're off. i don't need to lock my bike, nobody is within a mile radius of my space at any time, it's a good neighborhood. we order the french-toast pancakes and the waitresses and chefs are always so accommodating, never keeping their eyes off us as they take our order and cook. when the lawn gnome cracks a joke, i laugh loudly and then everyone in the room laughs. we feel like movie stars. it's free, the food is always free, we never have to pay. i love my city.

4. April is National Poetry Month. share your favorite poem or write one of your own:

these are the times which try men's bongs
pot poetry is in its infancy
soon everything will be legal
the world will be one big Regal Beagle
and whatever anyone says will not be wrong.

5. April is also Stress Awareness Month. what stresses you on a daily basis? being alive. on this planet. i don't want to live on this planet anymore. i want to live on Vulcan.

6. it's also National Humor Month. name 3 comedians who make you laugh. currently for me,

a) Brad Neely. did you see last night's China, IL apoplectic apocalyptic masterpiece episode "Charlize"? there was also that episode where Pony really liked a cockroach...

b) Eric Andre. Bird Up.

c) Hannibal Buress. humor can broach a serious subject better than anything else.

hey, now that we're in it with the inevitables and the also-rans, no matter what party you subscribe to, when you cast your crucial vote next year, remember there will always only be


7. April 22 is National Jelly Bean Day, how will you celebrate? by being jelly of Daisy, see below.

bonus: April's flower is the daisy. how do you feel about Daisy? that Daisy is a ducker! she stole my man! i was all set to give Donald his new freshly-pressed sailor suit this Easter, i come downstairs and Donald's nowhere to be found, not in the pool as usual. i check my basket and it's filled with rotten eggs. there's a note from Daisy that reads: HAPPY EASTER MOTHERFUCKER. what a foul fowl.



Friday, April 17, 2015



* interviewer: what are you doing sittin' in a tree, Andrei?
Andrei: F-U-C-...
interviewer: okay okay next question...

* interviewer: you almost messed up my entire interview, man, we would have had to reschedule and of course you'd bail on us at the reschedule. this environment right now is just perfect, but only right now, rainy but not too moist. i'm starting to get moist with anxiety. look, think of this as Saturday Night Live, no swearing.
Andrei: here, give me the camera, i'll do this myself.

* i love solitude. i'm a loner. i don't go to noisy parties, too noisy. whenever i get bored with myself i turn on the tv, tv solves everything (in 22 minutes). i'm the perfectly self-actualized individual according to Andrei. i typed in these traits into a job website and it spit out the following jobs it said i'd be perfect for: spit, punk rocker, tv salesman, guidance counselor, party planner, Monk (from tv).

* Andrei: after this the fellas and i are going to the Garden of Eden Club for the wrap party, you comin'?
interviewer: what? i don't know anything about this. i guess i missed the memo.
Andrei: oh shit that's right you weren't invited i wasn't supposed to tell you. sorry.

* Andrei: fabulous animal.
interviewer: Man?
Andrei: no, that horse over there. Man is boring.

happy weekend.



Wednesday, April 15, 2015


the boats scurry through the waters with giddy anticipation.

Imzhan rises from his nap and places four strips of raw steak bacon into the very-tech bubble aboard ship. the enclosed round bubbles and crackles the meat automatically.

Imzhan: perfectly cooked on all sides, it's just like a campfire but without the human interaction and the ghost stories.

Codrus stares at the deep blue, stares at his motorized gadgets attacking the calm waves for intel, that vital intel which will end all wars, end everything. Imzhan spies a spyglass in Codrus's hand but upon further inspection it's a piano guitar.


Imzhan: bravo, man, i moved, i got up for that. that is short but certainly not a short, rather the start of a grand orchestral piece for sure. let me cut in and join you next time, i want to learn a few bars as i cut through a few bars eating a few chocolate bars. here's me with a ukulele and nowhere to duet.

Codrus: what are you doing, man?

Imzhan: warpainting my face with the bacon grease, slobbering it all over my ears nose and throat. i am ready to battle if not for.

Codrus: ridiculous. or it's your custom in which case i apologize for offending.

Imzhan: well i don't normally do this but this is special bacon, this is steak bacon, man, the edges are coated with hard black pepper and tips, it's not the usual shit that gets burnt to a crisp and all you really taste is ash.

Codrus balances himself onto the slackline fitted between the main boat and a searcher boat and turns on his screen when he gets to the middle as his treat for getting there:

Jome. *heavy metal plays*

Rim Jome: what's good? what's crackin'? this is your friendly hardass beard, Rim Jome, and here are your daily sports headlines, flavored with my whips and smart barbs that don't give a fuck how high on the pedestal you think you are, no athlete will get a pass here. we call these Bullets.

wait...hold on...has there been any school shootings today?...producer? my ear?, okay, here are your Bullets:

* Aaronthal: it's tragic from all angles. the question is why? mere hubris? star status? is anything ever worth anything? is anything worth ALL? why go after anything, what's the point if you will fall / the angles are closing into corners of a room / that will be a whom / a home to pray the angles become angels and all fight will find a flight.

Codrus: the only stars to follow are the ones in the sky, they guide, they guide, since time immemorial / memorizing us memorizing our old knowledge / get rid of all the street lights so we can see our sky / in the dark there is nowhere to hide.

the slackline crashes into a rope bridge hanging by a thread set up by the previous noble wanderer, the slackline slimmers gently in place to provide the needed second line to hold up the steeping stepping boards. Imzhan does the heavy attaching and lifts up Codrus so he can slide to the surface. Codrus takes measured steps, never fearing falling in the sea.

Codrus: see? what is there to fear now? we are on the right path, everything will fall at our feet. do not fear death, my dear Imzhan, do not fear anymore my right-hand man, we come to swallow the ocean. if we fall, we but fall into the sea, which was our first home anyway. it'll be old-home week.

Codrus spies a group of three children playing in the sand, constructing a castle. he walks up to them and smiles in the most disarming way he can. he pats each on the head.

Codrus: my child, my child, my child, the world is your shell, the adults have already purchased all the oysters and charged high prices for them and turned them into gaudy jewelry, weird food, and pearl necklaces. are you playing? when i become king i shall change the dictionary and replace breathe with play.

boy: yeah, my friends and me...

Codrus: let me stop you right there, that is not good grammar, what are they teaching you in your outdated school? you should have said your friends are the most important people in your life going forward, they are the most important aspects of life itself, more than any dusty book slash shiny tablet could ever provide you in this me me me world. when i become king i shall change living to friends.

girl: hey mister, the damn castle won't finish. we're trying to form the towers and flags but there's something stuck in there, it's hard as hard rock.

red-headed boy: yeah they made me eat the sand all around to figure out what it was. they said i was a ginger so i wouldn't mind.

Codrus: never swear, darling, use your indoor voice, use your words, words are powerful things. and son, well of course you can eat sand though never do it again, it's unhealthy, poisonous, and toxic. you can do whatever you want, be whomever you want, do not let the limitations of your red hair stop you. you are the Sand Monster, i see it!

the ginger lad starts growling and chasing the other two round the coastline, forming footprints, memories in the sand. the chased boy screams more high-pitched than the girl and all laugh gayly without a second thought.

Codrus saunters up to the castle and sees green flags.

Codrus: go? always.

he pulls out the green tufts which are attached to carrots, loads and loads of carrots growing in the rock formation the kids are so desperately trying to fashion a castle in their own image into with heaps of wet sand in their small hands.

Codrus: here's your trouble. no trouble at all in the end. this is the healthy stuff i'm talking about. oi, Imzhan, gather the ginger kid and you two have a nice salad, no more of those heavy candied meats clogging your soulhole. light mind, light spirit, body light as air.

Imzhan: yessir, Mordecai. Rigby, shall we?

the two shave the rough carrots into smooth sticks using the side of the boat and mix in some cocktail onions all into a round bowl. the other two kids pretend they're bunnies and hop all along the beach in s patterns which slowly form into infinities marking the soil.

Codrus: kids have good instincts.

Codrus reaches further. he takes apart the roof while the kids are distracted and pounds his fist through the turrets. past the big guns and small soldiers, breaking the drawbridge bridge, into the moat, more, more and more down, until he hits an ancient stone which blocks his progress. he tries to pull it out but he doesn't have the strength.

Codrus: but i have eyes. i see it clear as day, i can see the ancient glow emanating from its pore, it has to be, it's a fossilized seed of grain, one of the first man laid eyes on.

Codrus laughs and continues laughing.

Codrus: we feed on our now food but this was the first food, this was the staple which carries the first humans on their path to God, the first bite, the first comfort, the first fill, knowing their lord had provided them fields of sustenance so they could radiate their master's name and sing his glory to the stars, which were much closer to the world then. what were the thoughts of those early ancestresses of mine? what did they conceive of themselves, their place in a world only now marked as primitive? they were strangers in a strange land, working the land, yearning for their father to come home from work.

Codrus whips his caped body around and hollers using his outdooor voice, which stuns Imzhan and stops the kids in their tracks. the sand sculpture moves and adjusts a little. with the coarse clang of a dinner bell, Codrus's uncontrollably giddy tongue announces,

"soup's on! last food! we're having bread tonight!"


Monday, April 13, 2015


1. what is the first garment that you remember? fig leaf
2. what was your first favorite garment? naked
3. what is your favorite garment now? Batman suit
4. what garment of yours does your lover want you to wear? 3, then 2, then 1
5. what garment of hers would you like for your lover to wear? 2, then 1, then 3

6. what do you think makes an outfit sexy on a woman? the woman
7. what makes an outfit sexy on a man? a good sense of humor
8. do you like to see women in tight clothing? must love pets
9. do you like to see men in tight clothing? see 3, my nipples are showing.

10. what kind of bathing suit do you wear? old-timey striped one piece
11. what kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering on a woman? birthday
12. what kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering on a man? banana hammock

bonus: your opinion of yoga pants? you can get away with yoga pants in public, the same cannot be said for the suit from Kill la Kill.



Friday, April 10, 2015



* hunk: mind if i jaunt briskly on the beach with you?
babe: yes. i thought you were David Hasselhoff. i had it all planned out, we were gonna eat burgers and everything.

* hunk: scram, ya bother me, kid, get out of here, it's dangerous, i will save you.
babe starts to run away.
hunk: babe, i just gotta say, you have a nice ass.
babe: hey, i don't see any danger, just a nice man in professional beige slacks. did you tell me to run away just so you could scope my ass?
hunk: it's a situation where both things are true.

* babe: what's that? are you packin' a semi?
hunk: yes and i have a gun with me, too.

* hunk: you have a nice ass.
babe: so do you, pilgrim.
hunk: thanksgivingyou.

* villain: hey turkey!
hunk: NOT thanksgivingyou!

* hunk: y'know, you talk a big game but you have no throwing skills.
villain: it's hard to flip the frisbee around your body and shit when you're packin' a semi in broad daylight.

* hunk: this throw is for all those you killed. NEVER FORGET.
villain: never forget what?
hunk: i forgot.

* villain (writhing in sand): nononooooo, arggghghghghg, i'm allergic to cherry jelly!!!!!!!!!!!!!


happy weekend. The Masters is already over, so there go my two days...


Wednesday, April 8, 2015


slowly but surely the cadre of Emblem, Atalan, Shaq, and cameraguy make their way back to the village from the basketball court in the jungle. they all see the flames overtaking the poor village and are aghast. Shaq motions first that he wants to rush in and save as many people as possible fireman-style, he is a polymath who can do anything. Emblem brushes him away.

Emblem: my nobleman, it's too dangerous even for a force of nature as yourself. sometimes the hero must delay the heroing to become a true hero at a later date. fools rush in where angels fear to tread. angels aren't cowards, they've just lived longer.

Shaq leaves on a zipline to see if he can contact his global connections. the zipline is burnt to a crisp so he uses the slackline.

the wall of flame moves at breakneck speed, getting up to near the feet of the men, goading them to douse it away. the fire knows it has won, it can encircle the village and destroy it with dramatic speed if not accuracy, and all the men can do is be humans. they try to run but it's never fast enough, it always ends up being a walk compared to the destructive marathon of nature.

JUST THEN a man approaches tugging an italian ice cart playing a familiar theme that immediately brings the men of different upbringings to that one place in childhood where you heard the ice cream man, rushed out the door with abandon, and made sure you were first in the line of kids with your quarter to receive that strawberry ice cream pop shaped like a foot with the one round bubblegum as the foot's toe. you thought you told your mom you wouldn't spoil your dinner, the truck to the dismay of parents the world over always came at 4 or so, but mom always bursts through the front door with her arms crossed and tells you she didn't hear anything about that. you turn around sheepishly with lips covered in pink and a foot in your mouth.

the man pushing the cart has a name tag, MANNY. this stops the men in their tracks for the oddness of it but none of the three look at the man, just the ice cream. Manny says nothing as he reaches his hand into the cart and pulls out a bunch of ice cubes.

Manny: what is my name? just now you saw it.

Emblem: my good man we are embarrassed to admit we are interested only in your goods. the ice can either quench our thirst or quench our problems.

Manny: the story of my life and the lives of all my brethren, we invisible workers who get down and dirty but are looked upon as unclean. we are second class to the ruling class. and that is why i have a pretty good footing when i decided to represent the least among you rather than the bloated kings. sure, if i became the Roger Goodell of the bunch of billionaire presidents i would have ascended to power quickly, but it's no fun if you're resented. only organically from the bottom up do you achieve power. started at the bottom now i'm here, me, only me, i'm finally here to spread the word, finally a new episode, not summer reruns.

Atalan: i do not understand what you are speaking, i wish Shaq were here, he's a polyglot. but i'm starting to understand not understanding is not always a bad thing.

Manny puts his arm around Ata.

Manny: what is my name, my son?

Ata: for the life i me i can't recall.

Manny: you never called in the first place. but now i am calling you. and i am the son. you don't need to fish for compliments, i know you know me. i know your true heart and your true occupation. you are a simple working man but your mind wants to expand. you are a man who prefers salt in his tea to sugar, to keep reminding himself to never get complacent.

Manny turns to cameraguy who has a knowing grin like he ate something he shouldn't have. Manny turns back to the two principles.

Manny: i can help you with your fire problem, i can help you with all your problems, psychology is too complicated, wouldn't it be great if it all fit together and was solved by a simple equation? the mind tends to fragment everything into minute pieces which scatter every minute. but there are no minutes, no matter how messy the initial breakage of the vase, all the pieces float out into space and eventually come back together into the infinite swirl of stars. all junk becomes space junk. there is one easy math sentence which explains everything, all the complicated things, the infinite complicated things.

Ata: shame i was never good at math.

Manny: juggling all of man's varied sacred concepts of the same Thing is tiring on my eight arms, eventually even i have to drop the balls which is really dropping the one ball of gum and it all molds elastically back like Gumby into the original ball of clay. it does without me, whether i think it or not, see it or not, but of course i see it, i see it in my mind, so i can't help but to think it, the moment i think it there it is.

cameraguy: i now marathon all the hot-button shows everyone's talking about at the water cooler. i don't have time, i have a busy schedule, so by the time i get to the shows everyone has left the water to harden.

Manny: old ways of thinking are dangerous when they get too old, they become cranky and crusty and ingrained and can't move anymore and hate the youth on their grass, they won't share their grass, they hold onto the past when they were the ones handing out flowers in their hair, they can't relinquish the power they had over the powerful, they see in the new generation one that doesn't hold onto their ideals, that squander their gifts, the gifts they gave to them,


when two or three among you gather in my name, i am here, always.

Emblem: i understand, but i'm not sure i believe. i am a practical man, a ruler has to be. can we use your ice? that's what you're getting at, right? we don't have time to philosophize, philosophy is useless, all that matters is action.

Manny: actions which pour forth from the font of the universe, which is one big Thinking of itself. but you don't care for such large matters as the universe, your heart is huge for a small area. yes, the key is the ice, it will cool down all of your outer and inner fires, but not in this tiny form. cubes are feckless portions of a larger blast. you need that gigantic ice blast to quell the fire demon's wrath. i will help you, always.

Ata: we have to motor. we have to run into the flames. we're not heroes, we're pragmatists. we have to do something to save the people.

Emblem: we are of our people, we are nothing without our people.

Manny: you can't do this by yourselves. it's a fool's errand. i love fools, they are the best people, they are the ones who will try something new. you need something more, you can't rely on yourselves when the going really gets tough. how are you gonna get the ice over there in time? it's impossible but nothing is impossible through me. first, let's feast.

Emblem: what?! you're turning into another uninteresting false prophet. i see them all the time trolling the government buildings i schlep around in. we don't have the fucking time!

Manny: but you do, you always will, there will always be enough time. you need time to think, you need time to see everything around you, all of your surroundings, you miss so much in your need for speed, so much scenery chewed and quickly digested rather than chewed. let us gather and have a drink together.

Manny takes out four bottles of Coca-Cola Life in green bottles.

Manny (smiling): i hope this isn't too on the nose. hey, i didn't name these drinks, okay?

cameraguy: i knew this would happen.

Emblem: what is your name anyway? i'm sick of referring to you by not referring to you.

cameraguy: easy. i work for CNN, so my name naturally is Carter Netanyahu Nihilism.

Emblem: ask a clarifying question, and things really get clear...

Emblem and Ata refuse to drink but can't seem to make any progress out of the invisible circle Manny has formed around them. Carter drinks his bottle all up.

Carter: damn tiny bottles, you're never fully refreshed, you always want more.

Manny: the most important thing in any situation, at any time, is family, togetherness, camaraderie, and connectivity. brotherhood, a coming together, a cementing of shared idea(l)s, taking the time to really listen to one another and hear what they have to say, not assume they think one thing or the other.

Emblem: us waiting around has probably caused two or three lives. i put that on you, ice cream man, though i don't want you getting any more publicity.

Manny: time is a round circle full of our love. at any given point in time the time is in the past and sees the future, you can go back in time and fix mistakes, you can manipulate time because what is time but a ball of clay at our disposal. we are super men, we just don't believe we are. anything is possible, anything, not just NBA championships. everything can be solved with a thought.

with that, Manny's jaw unhinges and a plethora of spinning plates on toothpicks crash out of him and onto the ground, breaking up into a million pieces.

Manny: i have worked hard in my life.

the sweat on Manny's brow drips off his chins and to the ground where it forms ice cubes. three of them. four ice cubes, then a bunch of ice cubes. soon the dusty ground is invaded with a million ice cubes. the ground starts to become ice cubes, one big ice cube.

the dragonwing on top of Manny's head snaps its finger and an electricity runs through the circle of men. the force starts to crackle and pop on top of the ice cubes' bottoms, moving them independently of each other and any human contact, they have a mind of their own, they start to crawl, then walk, then run, then dance all over the place, they are comprised of many ice cubes but move as one giant snowstorm of wind gust, an ice slide, you can see each individual cube but also the entire swath of cold, it races to the village faster than the men have time to comprehend what is happening on their heads.

Monday, April 6, 2015


1. are taxies levied where you live? yes, in tropical coconuts

2. do you pay your taxes? yes, everyone has their session with the bridgekeeper, it's a pain like going to the dentist but everyone has to do it. this is what happened at my last appointment:

bridgekeeper: what's your favorite color?
me:, doesn't matter.
bridgekeper: i'll let that slide cos i'm a Michael fan. do you know the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
me: yes, i swallow.
bridgekeeper: you may pass.

3. this year will you owe taxes or do you expect a refund? my tax guy is from a neighboring country and we don't get along. i don't see why not, it's quite silly that this little war has been raging for hundreds of years over something we didn't have anything to do with. but tradition is hard to break i suppose. i expect a refund but i just got back from work crusading and i pushed the red button on my answering machine and there were 30 messages all from him saying he farts in my general direction.

4. have you already filed your taxes? it's tough when my tax place is on the other side of a cave guarded by a rabbit. i see that sweet old funky man telling me to get my billions back, America, i want to, but that bunny's got a temper. i approached the bunny to wish it Happy Easter and it immediately went for my neck with its fangs. luckily i was wearing an Archer tactleneck. thanks, Archer.

5. you are getting a refund, how do you splurge? a) pay off those pesky credit cards b) retirement savings c) vacation d) shop

i vacationed this year at Castle Anthrax. the castle was full of Medieval babes. i was about to have an orgy the likes of which had never been seen in the past or hence, one that would be musically commemorated by a minstrel's lute, but then my fellow knight came in and "saved me from peril." i knew i should have picked a different adjective when they were handing out knight names. i am Phoenix the Chaste. i just wanted to get it over with and get outta there but i should have waited in line and held out for Phoenix the One-Man Orgy.

6. sometimes you need to get down and frivolous. what would you do with a windfall and why?
a) big party b) lend it to a friend/family c) live in an adult-only erotic resort the rest of your life d) gamble

i need to go to the hospital, i got injured in battle. i need a second opinion, the first doc told me i had but a flesh wound, but i think it's something more serious.

bonus: if you could be a circus performer, which act would you be? the one that goes through hoops for his client, the one that finds all the loopholes cos i'm not a lawyer, just a good friend, but i need to find the best lawyer for my friend: he's just been arrested for the murder of history.



Saturday, April 4, 2015



* as you can see, the Colonel is bewildered. i'm keeping the Secret Recipe blog title i was gonna use cos there was no way Kentucky could lose but now it takes on a different meaning, not Calipari's loony-naughty one-and-done strategy that was supposed to crash the league but the blueprint to beat the Blues.

* when i think of Perfection, an image comes to mind, i see it now, a red chair is being flung across a basketball court, that sucker is flying.

* basketball was created as something for farmers to do on their long winter breaks. bears created the game first and are suing. the humans claim hibernation. the bears claim hibernation is a media creation.

* my KFC spiel: the chicken is juicy and tasty but at the same time i feel so so bad for those chickens. i dunno. i think i'll stick to my own secret recipe. i use one more herb...

* when i was a boy, my parents would hide easter eggs and chocolates in the backyard and i would go find them. i never found any eggs, just tons and tons of badger holes. not until just now watching the game do i realize the significance of that. it was an omen.

* now as a man, to honor the family tradition, i walk along the edges of my backyard, pretending to find eggs and chocolates. i do find tons of chocolate, pieces of chocolate scattered everywhere.........................that wasn't chocolate and will you excuse me while i wash my hands.

* Geno's right, the men's game is terrible. it's too slow, the point guard dribbles around dribbles around waiting for the coach's finger to signal which play to play. they need a shot clock to speed the frickin' game up. just put a 30-minute clock in there and see how drastically the game changes.

it's easy to play this blog game! in the comments, predict which team will win it all Monday night, Wisconsin or Duke. the last time Wisconsin won it all, bears still wore suits and hats at picnics. now that it's 38-1 and Perfection has gone up in strawberry-flavored smoke, your two choices are the Duke Blue Devils or the Wisconsin Badgers. use my entry in the comments as your ever-present guide, the Midna to your Link. so you have the choice between Satan or Rocket Raccoon, who isn't a raccoon but an alien that looks exactly, and i mean exactly, like a raccoon not from his own planet but from Earth. the coincidence is staggering. okay, not Satan, more like Doctor Strange. i hate Marvel, DC is tattooed on my bicep, metaphorically. i only like Spider-Man and would like to take Aunt May to a club. along with your choice of team, predict the final score. the winner of this blog game, the one closest to the actual final score with the actual winning (not whining) team, gets three of mine comments at thine blog. see you Monday when the clock strikes twelve with the results. Bruce Timm's designs, his lines, his female lips especially, are unparalleled. read his Naughty and Nice book. or look at it anyway. i just watched on youtube the Batman: The Animated Series intro with just sound effects, no music. fascinating.