Wednesday, January 31, 2018


Gladyce: your man is big on tennis i gather?

Doryce: quite. we got mutually depressed over Sandgren, it was a nice bonding moment.

Gladyce: oh yes, i was all ready over here to shoot the flags and rah-rah our country. then i had to peruse one of your gossip rags.

Doryce: we come from a bigger country. has to be. yeah, just don't offer him a pizza, he'll go ballistic.

Gladyce: such a shame. first one in many years. and the perfect name, too, Tennys.

Doryce: too much sand in his vagina. speaking of balls-out pizza, have you checked out the new Red Baron?

Gladyce: sure. in the frozen aisle.

Doryce: no i mean on the cover. the actual Red Baron. he is looking buffer, i think they got a new model. you can see his twig and branches bulging from out his beige flyer pants.

Gladyce: i'm with you, honey. that mustache is majestic, mmmmm. i want to mustache-ride him!

Doryce: other way round, dear.

Gladyce: whatever works. i want to kiss his lips, but i really just want to kiss his mustache, not his mouth.

Doryce: i get the neufchatel and the gruyere flavors. which ones are your fancy?

Gladyce: the cheese one. where do you find those?

Doryce: in the frozen section. yeah, they come in slightly different packaging, his package is altered in the cover photo on the rare boxes. one even has to cover it with his scarf it's so huge and sticking out.

Gladyce: i believe they call that photoshop. i heard that from a grandson. not my grandson, just some tiny kid walking the street at night. those pizzas scare me, they're in the shape of tombstones.

Doryce: well look alive, soldier of love! here he comes. with his flavor du jour.

Bama arrives in his Dodge Stratus by the stop, pulling up to Doryce's wiggling feet whose combed shoes dangle the bus bench. Gladyce's feet and uncut nails are in open-toed boots on the other side of the bench.

Gladyce: you set me up!

Doryce: yes! on a date! we're sisters, we share everything!

Gladyce: even this!? wow. we really are sisters now. are you the menu du jour, young man?

Doryce: not me, her. set menu. table d'hote. i'm preparing you for fancy dates, kid, if you ever want to move up in the world.

Bama: uh, si fraulein, gracias.

Gladyce: i like him already. i'm giggling like a schoolgirl.

Doryce: oh you never went to school. we're too pretty for school. have fun!

Doryce waves her bony hand. at the Y pool, seniors' night. Gladyce is in her black-and-white-striped unitard.

Bama: don't be a tard, go naked. i mean if you want to.

Gladyce: oh i hate these seniors' nights. i hate being conspicuous. i'm gonna dunk my head and never come up for breath. you look cute in your red shorts which don't quite fit you.

Bama: try the volleyball. it's weird in water. i've been doing a lot more sports even since my mom banned internet in my room. but i still sneak out and watch my watch. here. it's okay, it's waterproof.

Gladyce: honey the wave of the future passed me a long time ago. i don't "do" the internet, honeychild.

Bama: it is getting boring. what finally convinced you the internet wasn't for you?

Gladyce: Poopeez. Poopeez exists.

Bama: for me it was Tide pods.

Gladyce: ikr? can you believe young people today are so dead inside they voluntarily eat detergent to get friends? what happened to the kids?

Bama: attraction is an anomaly. i use Tide pods to wash clothes.

Bama takes out a Tide pod from his shorts pocket...

Gladyce: ...oh so that WAS a Tide pod in your pocket.

...and he removes his shorts and throws them into the pool then he removes everyone at the pool's clothes and tosses them in the middle of the pool. he dives in and begins churning the water with his muscle shins. a vortex forms.

Gladyce: well that's one way to do laundry. college kids today and their unique creative ways to do their laundry. i'm suddenly feeling very tired, think i'll take a nap. and you've just provided me the easy way out.

Gladyce falls in and rides the cylindrical tip of the vortex to the bottom of the pool.

Gladyce: hope nobody saw me, i need the peace and quiet.

she turns to her side and rests her face on her elbow. she closes her eyes and snoozes for a day straight her body never not touching the bottom concrete of the pool, lounging, lying in full chlorine water.

the tornado has long since evaporated. Bama searches frantically for his old date, his charge, even saluting his forehead to see better, but he can't locate Gladyce. he realizes awhile that he can't just be naked with just a towel round his neck out in the open like this swinging in the wind and flies.

the lifeguard's chair is lifted high up in the air and empty. nobody is occupying the lifeguard. there's a red towel on the lifeguard seat.

me, from my bedroom, rope round my neck with a whistle: insulting BOTH El Salvador AND The Netherlands on the same day!!? now it's personal.

Gladyce lay underwater.


at the State of the Union, President Bump has forgotten which audience he's playing to. but he takes in the pomp and circumstances of his reign with a wry smile.

Brian Williams: *at the desk* did he actually say what the state of the union was? what word did he use? i missed that.

Nicolle Wallace: he used the word fragile which i thought was quite brave.

Chris Matthews: the Democratic response was proof that all the soul went into one ginger.

Brian: and so you just heard our family here at the desk, we're all here and extended, you can't miss that piercing voice.

in the Patriots lockerroom.

Belichick: if any of you want to take a break from this intense Super Bowl practice which will change the course of your careers, know that such practice is against league rules and subject to severe penalties and fines. you will be forced to sit in on the Committee which is redetermining what a catch is. and you will be summarily cut from the team. but i will allow it for this special occasion this time.

the team tv remains turned off. only Brady walks out of the room and watches it on his watch. he removes a hat from his locker, locks that locker, and places his keys in the hat.

Nikki Haley strolls onto the set. in intermissions everyone is friends playing a part and not enemies.

Nikki: hi Chris! did you get my invite?

Chris: thanks, babe, but i had to work.

Nikki: what did you think of the address?

Chris: Lincolnesque. only in the sense of same party.

Nikki: why is your mouth agape and your eyes wide and you can't speak?

Chris: i only came to see what those two lovebirds would do in between segments. but they fucked on air live tv under the desk when the camera panned to a guest, it was quite the quickie spectacle to behold! i came.

Nikki descends the quiet stone walkway into the evening dusk and damp grass to the back of the Capitol. the Dome is hiding the tip of the plane. before she enters Air Force Uno unaccompanied and without fanfare mics, noisily on her long heels each step of the gangplank up, she rustles something by a bush as if she's checking her purse. but she doesn't take her purse. she puts it behind her back and holds it to her butt.

Bump: i heard you coming a mile away. perhaps it's time for your noisy resignation?

Nikki: sir this is highly inappropriate. it's okay normally but this time it's me. i still would have been chosen for this position if if were Hilary, i'm that qualified. that would have been a more ideal situation for me looking back.

Bump: don't be so sure, i've heard rumors about her. she is REALLY into women's issues. stories when i still attended their parties. stories my alter-ego planted himself. how did you enjoy the speech? it was the greatest deliverance ever by an American President, got yuge worldwide ratings, biggest speech ever, never lost.

Nikki: longest speech ever. it would have gotten ratings anyway, this thing preempts everything from Nickelodeon to Persian soap operas.

Bump leans back on his airplane chair, which he has scooted to block the porthole entrance. he is so sunken into that chair his big head is lateral with the armrests. his sunken eyes twitch and twinkle with blotches of yellow. he sticks out his crooked tongue snarkily over a misplaced jaw. his tongue is coated in gold dust.

Bump: i deserve a treat after that speech. a frequent-fliers reward. i worked hard approving that speech. i made sure to un-redact every last thing that was redacted. come here and sit on Papa's lap. gimme my chocolate ice cream with caramel on top.

he begins to unbutton his pants. Nikki quickly wags her stick in front of his face. the stick has a strong oak base and two spindly limbs which branch around and form a misshapen circle of branches eating each other, melting at the edges. the light catches Bump's two lights off-guard and closes them.

Nikki: do you feel that? the soft fleshy moonlight from Mother Moon filtering into your hard caveman brow?

Bump: *covering with his hands but they're not big enough* what is that thing!?

Nikki: an uroboros of sorts.

Bump: but i'm not into pee play!

Nikki: that's not what that midget Steel says. he's a friend of mine off-work.

Bump: please stop. i can feel the pebbles of your spell counteracting the slick taste in my mouth. this is a power i have not encountered before.

Nikki: cut it out! do you not read the papers? do you not listen to the same music? we're in a different time, a new era. it would have broken open even with Hilary. let's pretend this never happened, status quo, both of us remain silenced, i keep my job, and i promise you Mueller's head on a stick. i can get it done, i just need a few agents, that shouldn't be too tough, right? from now on, work, not play.

Bump: oh yeah, the FBI is like my right arm. you bring me Mueller and you'll get promoted! the boring way! oooooooooooooooo, your orangutan is making me dizzy. i feel like throwing up.

Nikki: you needed a shakeup, sir.



the two ladies met every time in the same place. like clockwork, but working off a sundial in a bygone area, in their heads, older than the very time it was tabulating. they knew each other's favorite places and their favorite times of day. by instinct, joined at the hip, joined at the crotch. their crotchety crotch.

Gladyce: do we even need to speak anymore?

Doryce: hells yes. who am i, your husband? how would i know what you're thinking?

Gladyce: i assumed we were mindreaders.

Doryce: yes but that's a spell which takes a spell, an awful amount of concentration. powers of perception and such, reading a person's expressions nibbled on their nosehairs. at my age my glasses wobble, can't zero in on one target long enough.

Gladyce: you mean you have a roving eye. we really should live together doncha think? do you have any other friends?

Doryce: oh no, that would spoil the fun. we need to have some surprises between us or we'd get sick of each other fast. i don't want what we've built up over the generations to be lost on a lost toothbrush.

Gladyce: you mean secrets. i'm with you, honey. our bond is the grandest edifice ever built. it's like the Taj Mahal no one else knows about. can't find it on no stinkin' travel guide. honey, you can scrape my sky any day.

Doryce: i want to scrape your pap. it's a delicate balance. the key is not to think about it too much. a miracle disrupts a rigid plan.

Gladyce: the bus is late again. time for my sex life. please expound on your date with Bama.

Doryce: i think he's too old for me. going off to college like a big man. he won't like what's in store. it's all downhill from there. the minute you adult your inner child gets burned at the stake.

Gladyce: they've had it all wrong for centuries. you're not supposed to grow up, you're supposed to grow lateral.

Doryce uses her mouth on her glasses.

Gladyce: that is so interesting right now. you're fogging up your glasses to clean them. but look out, in front of you, we're outside, do you feel that? it's the weather. it's foggy. thick as pea soup. isn't this what biddies do? the number-one topic? the weather? i'm always telling you to observe nature. you're missing out keeping insular inside your coat.

Doryce: fah. a pox on your house. that you never use. you need to look out for my left hook. i only like pea soup with ham. my cat is fine thank you very much ma'am. actually she's not. threw up. saw her vomit right in front of my eyes. see i'm observant. don't know what it is. if it's the food i'm screwed, screwed food, they only serve one brand at Rite Aid. i sonder that she's getting too much sun perched on that damn window of mine that i always have to keep draped. she takes after her mother, as all creatures eventually do.

Gladyce: wham bam. your Christmas goose is cooked. seeing your beautiful lips form that O shape and blow got my back up. thank you, my back's been killing me for ages. but now my mouth is dry and full of cotton. my tongue tried to empathize with you but couldn't muster the saliva. glands atrophy as you get older. got any gum or something?

Doryce: you're like a damn smoker. and i'm gonna treat you like one. sure, take my therapeutic gum. in my left coatpocket you malign along with the hook and thread. it's the yellowing one. i mean the yellow one, both our teeths are long gone. Juicy Fruit. i stole the last pack from the bottom, the one no one sees that ends the rectangular box. it's the perfect gum.

Gladyce: DORYCE! i'm ashamed to be associated with you.

Doryce: what? it's just gum. at my age what are they gonna do, throw a helpless granny in the slammer?

Gladyce: that's how it starts. you think it's just a harmless pack of gum but if everyone looted their pound of gum all the World Money would stop circulating.

Doryce: but that's just my point. it is just gum. this is my revenge on society for doing me wrong my whole life. *chew* and it tastes like gravel. oh great. there are two types of gum, soft and sandpaper. we got the hard expired one that crumbles into pieces upon contact with teeth, even our teeth which is itself mostly gum.

Gladyce motions to form an O with her lips...

Doryce: *points* don't you dare say karma! we control the karma.


Monday, January 29, 2018


please, Roger, don't be a doper. let's not have a report from Rome 10 years after your retirement where he prefaces his remarks with, "come to find out..." just don't ever retire, you can do it! tennis balls can't be deflated, if you try it they just turn into tennis-shoe tongues. don't shred my last shred of hope for humanity. Roger makes me want to be a better man. Roger is my Helen Hunt. this is not Super Bowl Week. this is Taco Bell Nacho Fries Week.

1. i will never again__________ drop acid before a chemistry test

2. i stash _________ in my closet. hash. but only cos it rhymes.

3. are you embarrassed when strangers start talking about their sexlife to you? heavens no, i tell them to continue. tell me more. get graphic with it. give me the deets. does anyone use deets anymore? this is the only sex life i have. gossip over Golden Girls cheesecake. did you see the Golden Girls episode of Gumball? it's like that Tool song. the one that begins with V. not tool vest, that's for role play.

4. would you date someone who is celebate? monks make the hottest fuckers.

5. what percentage do each of these activities---work, play, household, sex, rest/sleep---have in your life? (must equal 100%)

work: i consider writing work, 100%
play: i consider writing also play, 100%
i also wrote a play
household: i let Rosey the Robot handle it. that's where it all started, 100%
sex: yoga is simulated sex. hey remember the old movie ratings? it was never actual sex, it was always Rated R for Simulated Sex. i suppose if it was actual sex it got the X rating. 100%
rest: truckstops have the best bacon, 100%
sleep: 0%

i'm not good at math. i was an English major.

bonus: how do you decompress at the end of each day? how would you like to decompress at the end of each day? sex with my neighbor. anime.


Friday, January 26, 2018



* The Truth Is In Here clogging your arteries

* i'll never forget when i met Josh Duhamel. he said that line about "cabbies" to Greenlee on General Hospital and i had my shorthand for cabernet sauvignon on dates. he taught me so many things. he taught me about cool. i knew he was going places. i knew him when he was just another unknown soap hunk. the movie-star stuff isn't really working out. come back to soaps, Duh, they need you, soaps are dying. or worse, becoming New York-regional only. we've all seen how the Transformers were never meant to be made into real-life film-set pieces. that's what the toys were for. some concepts are better left to '80s animators.

* papyrus logo

* girl: daddy! why do we eat Taco Bell every night?
Josh: this splitlevel's underwater.

* girl: i want fries!
wife: honey, Taco Bell doesn't have fries.
girl: chicken fries?
wife: Taco Bell just has steak.

* Josh: hello, facebook? my personal profile says mood: RUSSIAN.

* Mueller: quit dipping around.
Josh: you look familiar.
Mueller: i'm what the Cigarette Smoking Man would look like if he had never smoked.

* Josh: what's in this manila envelope?
coworker: the key to everything.
coworker: what are you doing?
Josh: i tried to start my car. no dice.
coworker: the key opens the flash drive.
Josh: i just heard key and drive. i know nothing of computers.

* coworker: what are you doing?
Josh: fries.
coworker: DRIVE! DRIVE!
Josh: you're making me feel like I'M the one who's crazy. this is how it starts.

* Josh: one question: what is "Mexican" spices?
Mueller: basically cayenne pepper. we're entering a new trade war over this Wall.

* wife: pour all that gooey nacho-cheese sauce all over my naked body. it won't be hot, it's from Taco Bell.

* informant: Big Fries.
Josh: explain. i'm getting wet. from the fountain.
informant: you get it now? you get the Illuminaughty symbolism? the fry with the ketchupped tip? the senators? the senators with the younger women in dazzling dresses not their wives?
Josh: are they drinking cabbie?
informant: lipsticked penises, man, lipsticked penises!

* informant: the nacho cheese is not your cheese.
Josh: Jack In The Box already used that.
informant: i got news for you. we're all in the Box.

* Skinner: he's getting close. i love when we're all in shadow like this, it hides my baldness.

* daughter: daddy, a clown gave me this fry.
Josh: drop the fry, honey. and pick up that nearby red balloon.

* Josh: wait. something is all wrong here. California's flag? California's not a real state!

* Josh: i need to bleach the red ketchup stains from my collection of white shirts before they get here!!! honey, where are the Tide pods?!!
wife: you ate them, remember?

* Comey: who is They?
Josh: Dr. They. everyone knows Dr. They.

* wife: these nacho fries are consuming you!
Josh: you look like Fergie when you make that face.

* coworker: looks like you got yourself in some hot oil, dad.
Josh: did i sleep on the company couch again?
 coworker: i'm Fergie's adult son you never met.

* clowns: we're gonna run you off the road and into a pond.
Josh: thank you, these new Taco Bell nacho fries are spicy.

* this is my life. i'm gonna try these new nacho fries the Saturday before the Super Bowl. you know they'll be off the menu by then.


happy weekend, my babies. i'm worried. Cilic is like Roddick but taller. it still boggles me that huge servers like Dr. Ivo and Isner never do well at Wimbledon and the hard-court Slams. i feel for the women's Final in a couple of hours. one of those ladies will be heartbroken and need comforting. i'll be in the stands but i only have one bony shoulder. i'll ask the runner-up to marry me. she'll ask how much money i make. i'll say bitcoin.

Thursday, January 25, 2018


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me from my bedroom: causing an international incident with both El Salvador AND The Netherlands all in the same day? okay now this is personal.


Gladyce: so how was it? how was your date?

Doryce: oh let me see if i recall. everything just blends together nowadays. i remember Bama was wearing a shirt...

Doryce: Bama dear, will you help me? i've got two bags here.

Bama: okay Miss Doryce, i see they're not white, they're brown.

Doryce: i wish my poo doctor would tell me that one time. you are such a dear for calling me miss. have your muscles grown since last we spoke?

Bama: just my head muscle. i'm going to college in a few weeks.

Doryce: please, darling, let's not talk about the future, all there is is now. it's not all the way there, hon, bless your heart, you're still wearing that Auburn sweater. i'd advise against that when you get up there. it hides your biceps.

Bama: Miss, why do you do your weekly full grocery shopping here at Rite Aid? this is more of a druggist's, not a grocer's. we have a few items but it's mostly candy bars to drown out the medicine taste. Safeway's just across the street.

Doryce: but who would help me there? i feel so safe in your arms.

Bama: but i've never hugged you. okay i finished loading you up.

Doryce: that sounds so filthy and lovely.

Bama: let me put them in the trunk of your car.

Doryce: please continue. except i don't have a car. those nasty government agents took my driver's license away permanently.

Bama: okay i can walk. i got trunks for legs. where do you live? i'm sure yours is the mansion on the grassy hill i curb every morning in my dewy Datsun.

Doryce: you are adorable glass. i live miles from here. now do you see how much i love you?

Bama: i can drive you, Miss. the passenger's seat is filled with 30 Caesar chicken-wing bones but

Doryce: please, my love, let's take things slow. just drop me off at the bus depot like one of your bitches you've finished with for the day. you must trust me in such matters, i have the experience and the experiences. it'll make it all the more explosive when we finally do consummate. now who do you want to win the Big Game?

Bama: Patriots vs. Vikings? what history! the first time a team gets to contest the Super Bowl in their own home stadium!

Doryce: it's gonna be cold? you're asking the wrong marm, i think everything's cold.

Bama: uh, it's gonna snow. but i think it's inside. you know how this is gonna end, right? everyone in purple shirts will be so jubilant they'll forget the Patriots are the ultimate party-ruiners. somehow, someway, the Patriots will win this impossible road game for them. but ma'am, you do remember i got a tennis scholarship, right?

Doryce: but of course! why just this time i was in line that rude Coco chick cut me off and cut me cos she was frantically looking for bananas. a search that proved fruitless. Pat Cash owes me money.

Bama: did you find everything you were looking for today, ma'am? Cocoa Puffs are on aisle...there's just one aisle. along with first-aid bandages for minor cuts. Rite Aid, we carry the best aid.

Doryce: it was a major cut. Major Grand Slam. see i know tennis. a week ago ever since i learned you like tennis. i have a lot of free time, much like a tennis player who retires. the match. congrats to Sukova. Sukova means "suck" in the old country language, trust me on that.

Bama: this is why i need to attend school. i'm happy Halep was able to gut it out. now we'll have a final where one will get their first major and one will be psychologically crushed beyond repair.

Doryce: psychology is modern magic. that Caro, she's a spitfire. she's got her shit together now, all tied up in a neat religious bow. she's gonna do it. this was all to make Rory second-guess his hasty second-guess. it's amazing what revenge can achieve. i read a lot of gossip rags, too. free time. please grant an old lady her dying wish. never change. remain my Bama boy. don't grow your hair out, leave it this short and humble and good-natured and simple.

Bama: but i need to protect my brain. long hair is in again for guys. are you watching the interview now?

Doryce: uh, no. it was never in for guys. don't let the football harden you. don't let the tennis soften you. return to me unchanged by the world. with those rippling muscles in your chin. i want you to come back still full of beef. not full of bull.

Bama: Rennae Stubbs said she wants Halep to sit on her like a chair.

Doryce: i like her. best interviewer. i knew there was a reason i liked her. Rennae, what an exotic spelling of Rennae. i like the cut of her stub.


Wednesday, January 24, 2018


Sultan was where they trembled on this grey earth. where their souls resided, where they locked. they were inseparable since birth though never related. they were each other's parent, mentor, and priestess. it didn't matter their parentage or stock, it was the two of them, but the two of them, all that mattered on this forsaken rock was the two of them. what they thought, felt, and spoke was but a tip to how they rumbled inside. they wore matching sleeves but not matching vests. they were the grand dames, the grey ladies of this world no one knew about. and there wasn't gonna be a movie. they bumped all the roughs and tumbles this worrisome existence has to offer at every corner, getting more and more frightened with each turn, not through, around and off the cliff, surviving only because they bumped into each other. they needed each other not so much because it wouldn't be the same without the other, it simply wouldn't be life at all. if you were to scrutinize each of their faces you'd see no lines, no wrinkles of abuse or a subtle smash-in of bad decisions. their eyes are relatively still bright after all. no surgery, no makeup, just constant squinting. having a narrow view avoids a lot of problems down the lines. you would come to see them not as old ladies or Bavarian biddies or bloviating bluehairs, but as women of a certain age. a certain ancient age. when you had to live, you couldn't avoid it. i suppose that's the key word here. you took one look at them and recognized just how lived-in they were. how their bodies wiggled with a breadth of life, how their words shook with longevity.


Gladyce: yes dear, we're still in WA. where we'll stay. why leave? Washington is so crisp this time of month. the apples are all dead and the pumpkins have dried up.

Doryce: there's enough orange-red in your period blood for a whole new season.

Gladyce: hush you. nature is meant to be silenced.

Doryce: don't discount me out. i'm still revving my engines for a man before i'm through. i've got a lifetime of virgin juice in my briar patch so steep the next hunk i orgasm on will be eternally covered and petrified. it'll come out of his gullet!

they both laugh. they both have penetrating laughs.

Gladyce: speaking of discounts, what's your preferred method of feminine wipe? Carefree or StayFresh?

Doryce: whichever one Bama's holding. now scoot your fat ass over so i can take a look at this miracle white ash. if i miss a snowflake i'll never see another one quite the same again in my lifetime.

Gladyce: you're the one with the fat ass. you're already seated. that's your fat ass!

Doryce takes a moment to wipe off her bespectacles, which are so small they're smaller than her pupils and might as well be contacts.

Doryce: the drug store here is a sham. always taking advantage of what they think are little old fragile helpless defenseless ladies who have just had their insurances dropped and their life savings raided. hiking up the prices in small illegible ticker print. don't they know who we are? we're the greatest generation. the last one there'll ever be.

Gladyce: oh stop your griping. though it is legitimate. that Bama must have a nice butt for football. you're always complaining how you hate it here. we really need to take the young person's advice. smell the flowers, they were here before us.

Doryce: you sure?

Gladyce: well i can't hear that well. take a moment to admire the singing snowflurries of Snohomish.

Doryce: like the song of Dolores.

Gladyce: and Lake Tye Park.

Doryce: THE Park?

Gladyce: Tye Park. so beautiful down there. the waves off the waters sparkle but they're missing something. i wish our park was like that.

Doryce: we got no lake. the only thing our muni park has going for it is that it's local. and Night Burger, have you been there lately?

Gladyce: what? you went somewhere without me?

Doryce: no of course not. i'm asking remember? that place had such character. it was falling apart and had sharp wood shavings sticking out in all the booths. that ethnic man who took your tips. the ceramic little statue man by the cash register. and that beautiful big board menu sign made up entirely of orders written in chalk. two giant flaps which folded out. that thing was so heavy i still don't how they kept it up without it falling on their exposed buttholes. i talked to the manager when they were at the temporary location. handsome fella, Burn.

Gladyce: Bama's brother.

Doryce: he was jiving me all up and down the street how the remodel was gonna blow my vagina off. well the new place looks like a dentist's office. that happens to strangely serve burgers in the waiting room. it is so damn modern with those grey severe corners the antiseptic fumes wafting off their buttholes shut my eyes before they had a chance to be gouged.

Gladyce: how are the new garlic fries tho? i forgot to order them.

Doryce: you should move to Nevada with me.

Gladyce: oh great. oh no, we are not gonna end up a cliché. we are a unique couple of birds. why are you always moving me down south? you salty or somethin'?

Doryce: garlicky.

Gladyce: patience. the bus will be here before we're dead. you packed your food for our picnic? not the picnic food mind you, i'm just talking about your food.

Doryce: yes i got my prescriptions right here by my arm. in a tiny cute white bag like they used to serve drugstore ice cream in. square scoops.

Gladyce: you pop those pills like candy.

Doryce: is ice cream technically candy? oh i hate that bus of ours. i wish the dude would just let us ride the wheelchair access lift once.

Monday, January 22, 2018


1. favorite childhood memory: my first-ever memory: seeing the spine of I Ching jutting out from the bookshelf in my groovy dad's opium-smoked den. me a toddler on a '70s shag carpet. i'm gonna write this vignette soon on instagram I Ching Willing.

2. favorite moment in the last three months: CLICK HERE

3. favorite drink on a hot summer day? big bottle of tabasco sauce

4. perfect day out: what, where, with whom: parkour, park, all my cats, none of my dogs <---wink wink

5. your most unexpected achievement? skiing off the Golden Gate Bridge

bonus: the kindest thing you ever did for a stranger: i can talk about the kindest thing a stranger ever did for me. it happened one night in the Instagram Stories. she texted over curt glances of her film habits, an old Fatty Arbuckle flick she took in over cold fattening Saturday Night Caesar wings. i told her i had just crossed Laura off my noir checklist. her response was a picture of Gene Tierney in all her glory with the immortal lines from the film underneath her in caption:

I should be sincerely sorry to see my neighbors' children devoured by wolves.

now that's a response. that's a response of love. that's real love right there. we spent the next hour chatting on "earthy" relationships and typing whilst in a bubblebath tub. wherever you may roam, you are the kindest person ever online...


Friday, January 19, 2018



* Pepsi is love

* i see you, Procter & Gamble, you keep doing your thing.

* mom: stop jumping on the bed.
girl: i'm gonna jump so high i crash into Neil deGrasse Tyson's Cosmos ship so i discover that Possible World first.

* mom: i look at your wall and get sad from your posters.
girl: don't worry, mom, i made sure to watch them sign the poster themselves. they never reached into a bag.

* mom: don't leave your skates in the mud, they were expensive, i went without food for a year.
son: don't worry, mom, i'm tough.
mom: what happened to your eye?
son: you should see the other guy. so jelly.
mom: i'm proud of you, son. that's right, they're just jealous of your talent.
son: no, my eye. there's jelly in it.

* boy: i don't have a speedskating suit.
mom: those rich kids in their skintight bodysuits look like pussies.
boy: why don't i get a fire?
mom: a little secret parents never tell their kids: roasted marshmallows taste like shit. i heard that clique sacrifices a boy each midnight in that fire in exchange for rigged Gold Medals. they worship Satan obviously.
boy: mom, one of the boys said i looked like that goofy-looking kid from A Christmas Story.
mom: that was a classic film! don't let ANYONE tell you the Fox live musical wasn't good, it was! go right up and put your tongue on the flagpole, you got another one. that pond is not fully frozen over, it's gonna melt.

* mom: are you practicing your piano?
girl: no, mom, i'm on the hockey team, remember? i'm cutting my hair to fit in. i'm going all Mulan up in here.
mom: just bring me back some Szechuan sauce.

* girl: should it matter if i wear a head covering?
mother: of course not, daughter, but the world now is fucked beyond repair. just say it's part of your costume while we wait for a brighter day.

* cutting-in-line boy: Special Olympics?
boy: Olympics. just Olympics, motherfucker.

* girl: is this a dream? i'm dreaming i'm back in my bed when i was a child. except the bed is on top of a snowcapped hill.
mom: you're not dreaming. you're still a child. the adulting into an Olympic athlete came later in your life.
girl: no wonder i feel so cold.

* Olympic star: i did it, mom. i'm crying.
mom: i'm crying, too. but next time don't nick that flag like that, you coulda had the world record.


happy weekend, my babies. au revoir, Lupin. Brady's hand is just deflated, that's all.

Monday, January 15, 2018


1. a friend gave you a pie touting it as a favorite family recipe, and you ate this pie and got sick---or had an allergic reaction. the friend calls a few days later to ask, "how did you like the pie?" what do you say?

i came to an uncomfortable truth this week. all apple pies taste the same. i thought i would get exotic and get the Safeway generic brand just to see. see all apples taste the same and crust is just a fancy way to say bread. it tasted exactly like McDonald's apple pie. same hot-pocket shape, too. i am shaken.

2. your significant other really wants you to try the swingers' lifestyle but you really do not want to do this. do you a) tell her/him no, not interested b) do it just to make him/her happy, go along to get along c) say yes cos you'll try anything once d) no with no explanation and forbid them from living the life
i guess i gotta get a job now. i rewatched Indecent Proposal this week. but i don't remember watching it the first time. it must have been when i was 13 giddily under the covers of my parents' bed some random Wednesday night when they were off hosting and i'm done with my homework home alone and turning the key to HBO for the first time and a fly comes out of my mouth. i thought i'd watch the first 15 minutes but i'm noticing i'm recalling all the scenes of this American movie with the European sensibility. fascinating. this film is like an old friend you haven't seen since the last great decade. ensconced in the gauzy glow of a Zalman King soft-core if it had a big glossy budget. young unbreakable love, that first fraught year of marriage---there is nothing more fiction-filled than a couple's first year of marriage---green gambling, altering attractiveness. two lost souls in the desert when they'd rather be gardening. neck-deep in the fantasy of feeling each other out, the uncertainty of the future, good-looking Presidents, treadmills. if you started to think Demi couldn't have ever been that hot, this reminds you. i know, i searched for Indecent Exposure first on my remote out of habit. Olivia Beagle was not a slut. that's what you really have to do, you really do have to laugh about it years later...

3. have you texted nude photos to someone and had it come back to bite you in the ass---as in someone taking revenge for your misjudgment?

one dick shot one time. it was so embarrassing. luckily i accidentally sent it to myself instead of the group email at work. see? sometimes it pays to push the wrong button...

4. have you or would you ever stop having a relationship with someone who had a weight problem and their physique drastically changed?

i was harassed virulently over my weight so i know how that feels. i ate so much weight-gain powder all the neighborhood cats knew my house was the local drug den. like, actual cats, i was on drugs, the cats spoke to me. i'd only intervene if the world could no longer see my beloved's beauty. if she disappeared. because she was too thin. health reasons, not beauty reasons. you can never go wrong using Rubenesque in polite conversation.

5. would you rather find true love or win the lottery with winnings of $10000 u.s. mint? there are some things which money cannot buy. unless you're Robert Redford. love fades, money fades, life fades.

bonus: which topic of conversation do you avoid at all costs---politics or religion? never discuss how much you're constantly backed up in polite conversation. unless you're a manly man in a hard hat and these are your symptoms. ladies and gentlemen, our next President:


o shelagh. i started with you. when i was small. when the nineties were new. we grew up together, empathizing, lingering, dreaming. at first i didn't know what to make. you were beautiful in a distant sense, a sprite out of reach, hidden in a pub, a zombie of war inherited never your own. you made me realize that your parents were special in a way my mommy and daddy could never be. they warded off ghosts and drank spirits in a garden towne, we warded off spirits and were ghosts in an industrial town.

what to make of the voice. this lass who would replace Sinead in our minds. substitute or she-ra? at first it shrieked and we were silent. but then we heard the soft yodel and fell in love. the lilting Limerick. the mezzo sauce. like a sonic shillelagh to our soul. put to the sword of our ears.

what a prize what an honor what a showing. i don't go to Instagram anymore it's too sad to leave notes for the dead. instead i attend the wake which never ends. know that you were an attractive woman like you wanted your husband to know. know that we will never be in your will but we were in your ode. reared by you. when you're gone, so are we.


Friday, January 12, 2018



* where's Megyn Kelly? she forgot her shoes.

* Von Miller: you won't smell me coming.

* Aaron Rodgers: i get the high chair.

* Damian Lillard: i burned my hand on the stove when i was a kid. didn't feel a thing.

* DeAndre Hopkins: nuk if you buck

* Garbine Muguruza: not exactly sure why Pharrell chose me...

* Jeremy Lin: you better not cut me. i'll find out if you do.

* Kris Bryant: i like clowns.

* Lindsey Horan: Hope Solo had an appointment.

* Paige Tapp: really i have the perfect name for a volleyball player. my name is on the back of my jersey.

* Pusha T: pusha play.

* Alexander Wang: i love Jeremy Lin.

* Candace Parker: i still say i'm hotter than Sue Bird.

* Chiney Ogwumike: i've scored more than Beckham.

* David Beckham: this long hair has not worked for me. not once my entire life.

* Derrick Rose: i was better than Jordan the five games i played.

* James Harden: the beard has now petrified. it is impenetrable to any of Favre's razors.

* Karlie Kloss: i thought it was cute when the press dubbed me Kloss Floss. then i went onto the internet.

* Kristaps Porzingis: really should have waited till after i got a nickname before printing those shirts. they could have had a unicorn on them and everything.

* Lionel Messi: i was told there would be tacos here. that's why i'm not saying anything. where's Cristiano? Cristiano said he would cook some of his famous tacos for me here. that's why i'm not talking. i'm just here for the tacos.

* Paul Pogba: i've scored more than Beckham.

* PK Subban: one day i'll just be a hockey player.

* Tracy McGrady: i'm like the Andy Roddick of basketball. oh well, i have the best job in the world now...

* Pharrell: i'm not happy. i'm not happy at all.


happy weekend , my babies. Justice League Action preempted again. i wish i lived in Canada.

Thursday, January 11, 2018


Auverin: wannacry?

me: what?

the lounge is playing a low toasty fire in the place, a toaster's record spitting reggae as our final adult inculcation for our final conversation.

Auverin: you always told me you were the bug in the system. the virus.

me: i think that's true. i wish i had cried in front of you, if only to get you out of that longchair to give me a hug one last time, so i could remember what you felt like.

Auverin: let's finish up before it's too late.

me: your Wienerschnitzel pastrami?

Auverin: you always feed me.

Auverin's eyes are otherworldy emerald. they don't sparkle as much as simmer.

me: it's too late. it will always be too late. what were we talking about that i can keep you a while longer? the cars. Maldark's cars. not all were reported in that final race. i was thinking a Grand Tourer.

Auverin: definitely Mr. Bean's yellow mini.

that makes me laugh.

me: what were Codrus's real final words i wonder.

Auverin: ain't democracy grand?

me: how was it?

Auverin: everything you would imagine. you don't imagine just how beautiful the red of that carpet is against the drab landscape of the world. Daniel Day-Lewis interviewed me, asking me what i was wearing, which i found odd. i was supposed to interview Gwyneth Paltrow, the star of our film, but she never showed. i talked instead to a member of the Hollywood Foreign Press, a nice lady from Saudi Arabia who informed me Gwyneth was vaginal steaming and would be a little late. we got to talking and soon i forgot all about my grand entrance. we got lost in conversation, i talked to her about everything: foreign films, the science of films, the emotion of film, the access to film. she drove me to a movie theatre in her home country which had just opened up. she was giddy in her own car, lavishing praise on a surfer boy she had just taught to live. by teaching him how to drive. we get to the small indie theatre in Saudi Arabia and the picture is just about to begin. that's when i remember i had given up a hell of a lot to be here. it was Vivian's deadname ceremony, the same day as the premiere, i had to miss it. that's when that nice woman with the smile that framed her hoodie and i got assaulted by a group of men right there in the theatre, just up on stage, like it was a sport, something about the largest-size they had of bulbs, between the flickering lights.

me: while you were there i was at a football game. my first one not on tv. i had never liked football, hated it in fact as a symbol of the elite jock hierarchy, but surprise surprise i caved. it's not called the national pastime for nothing. it's a snowy Sunday night in Minneapolis. Carolina Panthers v Vikings. Molly Qerim is in the stands and looking pregnant. or bloated. she can't look fat. turns out it's just Jalen Rose under her coat applying oral. between licks to her yonic rose vagina Jalen effervescently comes up for air and i slap-five him as a gesture that he's holding it down for all the brothers and is an example---i'm not a brother---and he sages me with this wisdom hit: you're only as faithful as your options. from a comedy show i didn't see. Molly snickers embarrassingly and doesn't want to talk about it. that advice could not be wronger. more wrong.

it's here that i hear the greatest-ever line from a professional athlete. Cam Newton on stage, on grass, looks at the opponents' defensive adjustment and declares before snapping the ball:

oh, you watch film, too, huh? that's cool, watch this.

Auverin: i wanted to call Vivian for help. cos he was a big strong man now. but he had changed his name to Victor and wasn't in the directory.

me: o Auverin. oh how i wanted to save you. but you see, i never experienced this. i left school before you could tell me the final story of the summer. your experience. i don't recall any of this just now. it would have happened if i had stayed in college. i feel guilty for having had what would have been a relatively nicer story. this is what was supposed to happen, supposed to be my meant line. but you are the last girl who witnessed me with a clear mind. from then on, i was on a different path, one of a damaged mind and succumbing to illness. this was the clear line of demarcation between a life of success and plays to one of regrets and days. i would never be the same after our summer interlude, i was changed for the worse, a person lesser. than you or anyone else knew. it was over for me. all over. hopes, dreams, schemes.

Auverin. Auverin. i wanted to protect you. cos you were the only one who protected me. i wanted to hold you to my bellybutton, cheek-to-cheek you, never let you go, spin you out of those meat-market raves, dance the pain away. hold your right arm high and your left arm by my side. save you from the world of man.

Auverin. you were the last person i ever knew.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018


i walk. and walk. and walk faster. the snow lessens in my mind. i drift into a jog. then a brisk jog, then a rog. then a run. then i'm running as fast as i can, my unmittened fists swaying in the hurricane-gale winds. i'm sure i leave behind footprints but there's no looking back now. i sprint so as not to see the street, only the highway yonder in the sunset. which is the sunrise. classes would be starting soon, buses and charters would be arriving, doors would be shutting, i vow to never be a part of a line again.

i screech over the paltry plated barriers one-inch high on the grass. under the highway bridge and onto oncoming traffic. i still have legs, i can move. but the light is too bright. those dual lights from that 18-wheeler truck with the honey grill which plows right into me, two bright ufos perfectly backgrounded by the pink dawn. see? it's dangerous to go toward the light.

no. it can't be that easy, can it? no. i have my whole life ahead of me. in my room. it's not really my bedroom anymore, it's my room. the truck swerves at the last minute of course, barely missing my tongue, crashing into the divider and unleashing all of the contents of its trailers onto all the roads, gumming up transportation for at least a day.

i don't remember much. just stained glimpses and splotchy spots of singing sorrow. i'm in the cab. next to me is the driver humming an unheralded holiday ditty out-of-tune to keep up my spirits. Adam something. he wears a garland of Christmas lights around his neck, but the bulbs are too medium that they don't stand out. when he opens his mouth flies and other winged caterpillars come out if it. later, he tells the police reporter that actually it was i who had flies in my mouth.

the truck is a Macy's truck. the table of contents has spilt. all of that Macy's inventory is ruined. clothes from the Kardashian mother, shoes from the Ball father, perfume from Bjork that doesn't sell.

"Macy's should go back to selling toys," the driver laments. but it's too late.

later at the hospital, the police reporter gently orders me to fill out my version of events. it begins like any of my other college essays:

what has 18 wheels and flies?...

my family picks me up. eventually. as they are obligated to do.


Anderson Cooper is having a hard time.

Andy Cohen: okay let's do this trivia. first question: are you finding it difficult to concentrate at work?

Anderson: um, yes.

Andy Cohen: second question in the form: are you irritable, distracted, suddenly unmotivated?

Anderson: now that you mention it.

Anderson blows up on national tv. like a robot.

Anderson: keeping them honest i want to say keeping them honest i never knew keeping them honest how much i needed love keeping them honest till i was blue. keeping them honest.

Andy: oh no. i was afraid this would happen. sucker up, sweetie.

Andy plants a big one on Anderson's lips.

Don Lemon: dammit. that was gonna be my revolutionary move on hated national tv. i was gonna smooch my man. why do i always have to come on after you, Anderson? i'm the brave one in the spotlight here. out in the open still checking my twitter.

Anderson: just call me Black Lightning.

Anderson and Andy leave together, arm in arm, shoulder in shoulder, down the rickety staircase. during the commercial break.

Omarosa: hello America! that's my cue. i'm taking over! i'm raising my arms high up in the air just like Oprah!

Andy: wait, who dis? who are you? nuh uh, you're too much drama for me, girl. that's not my style.

Omarosa: my name is Felicia.

Kathy Griffin: *on the phone* Coop, let's all sing Deacon Blues together as the countdown runs out.

Anderson: this is the only holiday that's celebrated at different times by different people. do you know the words to Deacon Blues?

Andy: no.

Anderson: thought you wouldn't. hey Randi, you sports fans over there surely know the words to Deacon Blues.

Randi Kaye: ............................

Omarosa: America needs me. America needs to see me. there is no one like me on tv. and now it's time for me to do my Black Panther interview. wait who is this?

Robin Roberts: that's Lupita Nyong'o.

Omarosa: dammit!

Robin Roberts: *crying* god dammit! i didn't fight my impossible illness and battle losing hope and stay on this earth to interview the likes of you!

Omarosa: are you addressing me or Lupita?

Robin: i'm dressing down YOU!

Omarosa: please. we must stop this. the civil war must end. let me be your Vice President and we'll call it even. i'll even be an honest broker and share Gayle with you. with me in your orbit you're sure to win in 2020, The Boondocks predicted it.

Robin: man you don't watch The Boondocks.



it is snowing. hard. like Erie, PA hard. i motion to go back inside. i can see the faint light of the lounge. but the corner is too severe to see Auverin. is she there? i can only imagine now. she's a smart girl, she managed to wither the unforeseen and unexpected tides of college, she's probably off to her first rave by now. well her first real one, that high-school starter one in her bedroom never counted. things came easy to her. is this a byproduct of her looks? sure but not everything. the thing about Auverin, she always divulged, even her struggles. that's what made her an actor. i could never bring myself to conceal. that's what made me a writer.

i've been forgetting a lot throughout this wave of encounters. which is unfortunate. most of my uni experience i wanted to forget, tried hard to, but something happens when you scratch a locked box, you discover the gold foil, it gets stuck under your fingernails. one thing i knew i'd regret was not handling that feeble door. it was a closed gate to me. now. and forever. i would never anchor my weighted sandal on those erudite marble floors again. those floors were never cleaned that was the beauty of them. never again as a naïve wide-eyed and fried-tail student assuming the best, patterning his path on his parents, not his protégé. regarding it all as so much escape rather than the most terrifying freedom that exists in space.

two things i did remember. they came back like dull teeth. the day. the day was Friday. today is Friday. the last one before the three-day weekend that introduces the spring semester on Tuesday. the ultimate election day for the leanings of your soul. and some time tomorrow, which was already today, the sun would peek through the clouds, there was never rain when i wanted it, and i would run out of excuses to attend my last final. a final i had not prepared for. not one page. a stack of putrid books on mechanics or something was piling on my couch in the lounge, ripping the seams off the pillows. i hadn't read all semester, they were cracked shut, diversion was my drug. this was a required class, i had to take it to graduate, which is arbitrary and the product of an angry system. points too powerful in public. it was as if i was coasting till i realized you can't defy the establishment. you can't get a job as a rock guru in this society. a guru who prays over rocks upside-down, with the rocks stacked high on my erect penis.

it's all so easy, isn't it, me? to study is to succeed. a surge came over me, rendering me full of inside speech but no outward action. the snow. i blame the snow. like i tried, i really tried, to lift the boot over the icy mound that was the granite stairs, i used both hands, but i got drunk on my own immobility. this time it was different. something has washed over me, and hardened. i simply can't bear to do this anymore. something has happened, an accumulation of somethings, and i am systematically rejecting all standardized schooling. for spirituality. really for slouching. i am no longer a student. of the world. i am a student of my own mind, i shall live in there for all eternity, eons after my eventual death. it's good that they never got around to laminating my final student card. a bureaucracy can help to shade the abetting of an escape. student aid. i can't go back in there. even if i wanted to. i don't want to. i can't hold another paid book in my soft hands. not one more test. not one more light-blue essay book where i scribble some savage shit for two hours that is so filled with my bullshit i have to take a literal shit afterwards. this is the end. the end of it all. the termination of a dream first thunk up over a baptism font. the abortion of the 21-year plan.

i am negating everything. every combination of who i was and who i would have become. to center who i will actually become. but i am an artist so i must make a final gesture. even if i have spit out the tower. i could never spit on the tower, it's too big and i'm too small. the lions! the lions which guard the gate! the library lions. i caress each's mane like i'm at a petting zoo closed for a snow day. or a tome of children's fantasy, that makes it more noble. speaking of noble, the lions don't mind my silly human, they're hearty. the garlands of Christmas lights around their flowing carved manes are too small for their noble necks, the lights are as tiny as they come in sizes. i remove the lights from off each of their necks, both of them, and bury them in the snow, planting my boot over their grave.

if only i could feed them. if only i could hide in their mouths.

i turn around and face the street, my beloved street, the one which divides the institution from the limits of a city. i do not say goodbye to Auverin. like i didn't say goodbye to my opposite-street neighbor. i don't even have the guts to wave. they were both my next-door neighbors.


President Bump is hiding in the pot party bus on New Year's Eve. you know, the one that doesn't move cos what's the point. full of stoners from out-of-state and Alabama who can only get their stuff legally here in this state. can't think of a better time for a special occasion.

Bump: can i bus? heehee. i came up with that and i'm not even high yet.

the mellow crowd of sad sacks sit in their assigned seats on the bus, smoking, hitting, blunting, trying not to let their lives get any sadder.

Bump: guys, guys, hey guys, don't blame me for Sessions. i wanted that imp gone stone ages ago. he's like the ogre who keeps all the Lucky Charms for himself. RANDI KAYE?!! as i live and breathe.

Randi Kaye: oh no. it's not me, you're having Parkinson's hallucinations.

Bump: oh Randi. you were always my favorite. you're the reason i watch CNN 24-7, as a hope to maybe catch a glimpse. you're way hotter than those other gilfs on tv.

Randi: i think you mean the internet.

Bump: wrong. i mean right. gilf gifs. i would fuck you so hard on this Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test bus your brittle bones would break and your seat would rip and spill its stuffing. puff pass paint. i'm seeing you in a new light. my small grande blonde espresso roast. i'd offer you some THC-infused cocktails but i fear they'd just go right through you, you hot skeleton grandma.

Randi: your wife is right here. on this bus seated right next to me in her assigned seat.

Gina De Vecchio: i didn't want to come.

Bump: that's the problem. honey you're old news, which is worse than fake news. look i learned a lot from you on our relationship. like shag twisters and stuff. i recognize although Michelle surprisingly does in fact have the biggest tits she wears those dowdy grandma skirts. weather needs to be wet. but then you introduced the hydrophobic layer. how can you have a bong without the hydro?

the bus fills to the inside roof with mud. the stoners cheer.


Monday, January 8, 2018


1. how old is your longest living relative? according to, everyone is related to George Washington.

2. do you hope to live to this age? only if i can lucid-dream while dying.

3. what is your family's native language? your native language? Salvadoran/Dutch. jive.

4. how old were you when you started dating? my half-life is 885000 years. i leave virtually no carbon footprint because i don't go outside.

5. how old were you when you first had sex---any kind of sex? whenever it was, it made me feel 20 years younger. i've only known rough sex, there's a kind sex?

bonus: how would you describe your sense of humor? necessary


that's gotta be a record. this is the one day a year i don't care about college football...

Friday, January 5, 2018



* Attenborough: in the wilds of the Savannah, we find the wildest singer of all: man walking.
tourist: you can't say bush anymore. why is it so cold? i thought we were in the Sahara.
Attenborough: i can't explain it to you until the BBC pays me. they have so many people to pay. it's a backlog of pay.
tourist: i saw your latest documentary. you mean to tell me there are areas of the ocean man still hasn't explored yet? new rule: man can't go into space until man discovers all of the ocean. hey are you that guy who was the nerd on Lizzie McGuire and then you had that brother who choked himself to death with a bad karate chop?
Attenborough: i'm afraid you have the wrong family. i am not jealous of my brother, but he can't act his way out of a paper bag at the bottom of the ocean. he called me up on the ringer the other night again talking about fanciful creatures he called dinosaurs.

* grandma: let's break out of the nursing home, grandson!
grandson: this doesn't make us look good, granmama.
grandma: it's just tv.

* that team lost. that was the joke.

* BMXer: i wanted to be a rad helmetless skateboarder with long hair, jeans, and kneescrapes. but my grandma got me this really tiny bike for Christmas...

* comedian: breathe. breathe. if Kevin Hart and Al Bundy can get out of the shoe game, so can you.

* the first 20 times i watched this commercial i had no idea what the Starbucks scene was about. her band is opening for U2 on Broadway or something?

* doctor: good news, bad news. your cancer cleared. but your glasses make you look like an old lady.

* most of these are cosplayers. but one is a real ninja. and one is a real vagabond.

* woman in red: i'm not wearing any pants. but i'm Steve Jobs's daughter so it's okay.

* man on porch: what are you doing here!? you traveled 850000 miles to come back here?
woman: it was on Southwest so it's free. a love confession only counts if it's declared in the pouring rain.
man on porch: i can see your nipples through your soaked blouse.
woman: maybe this was a bad idea.

* woman at airport: why can't i get a man who can fold a baby stroller!? i'm sorry, honey, i know you try, but i think i'm more attracted to robots.

* coach: miss, can i borrow your lusty-red kerchief around your neck? i need to dab the corner of my mouth after that squirrelly airline liver sandwich you served me.
stewardess: i'm sorry, sir, but you're on the list. your last name is Carradine.

* don't matter if you're black or white


happy weekend, my can go now, i'm gonna be awhile combing through all these seats for used gum and old stories...

Wednesday, January 3, 2018


Anderson Cooper: where are you? i'll be right over.

Andy Cohen: you didn't run to me when i had to eat Panda Express for breakfast in an airport lounge at 9AM.

Anderson: sweetie, just friends, sweetie. i know you wanted more. but the Vanderbilt virginity is too rich for your blood, that e is expensive.

Kathy Griffin: you got the keys?

Anderson: sure i do.

Kathy: meet you at your mom's mansion.

Anderson: wait, why my mom's house?

an hour later, Gloria Vanderbilt is struggling to point heaving over her iron-rimmed snake sofa. she wears a darkness that is one part Grey Gardens and one part Marvin Gardens.

Mama Vanderbilt: son, be a dear and answer that bellknock.

Anderson unlocks the door and finds Kathy Griffin frozen in a block of ice.

an hour of picking later

Anderson: what happened? give me a hug. the whole thing got way overblown.

Kathy: that was not meant to be a popsicle. i was supposed to jump out of a cake to surprise you. oh mama! did you fare okay the hour i was gone? got your medicine? RA flaring up again?

she gives Gloria a hot hug.

Gloria: where the fuck were you?

Kathy: running a stupid errand in Times Sqaure.

Anderson: what's going on here? you're my mother's caretaker now?

Kathy: you're never home.

Anderson: did any part of you want to be my friend? or was this all about access? fuck this i'm out. going back to work.

an hour later

Mooch: a call for you, Mr. Anderson. that's all i know.

Anderson: you're live on the air. New Year's Live.

Kathy: i fucked your mom.

Anderson: who is this? Howard Stern? you motherfucker!

Kathy: yes i am.

Anderson: why?

Kathy: look i just really love your mom. i like you, the silver-fox head of hair and icy glare and mood swings and reporter's arms i get it. but i need a real woman y'know?

Anderson: i never knew my mom was gay. perhaps this is why i was a child model.

Kathy: don't worry, she's fine. no bed sores, just bed pounding. got ourselves a California King mattress. which is impossible to find in New York. hey this is all your fault. Nothing Left Unsaid was too good. haunting beach scenes. left me, me, speechless. i hope this doesn't drive a wedge between us.

Anderson: don't you dare treat me like South Korea.

Kathy: i don't know what that means. see you at home.

Andy Cohen: i haven't mentioned your name once this entire evening broadcast you ginger witch.

Kathy: hi, Andy!


Auverin: go. it's not too late. leave me to my math doldrums. what the fuck is a monogon and how can i use it in an essay?

sure enough it is here. just like she said, make a left at the Rock-Ola with the monogon case.

the star in this case is the spoked wheel used to move the lugubrious stacks slowly on their tracks. i turn it ever so deliberately sending a shiver sideways on my spine. the return to plebeian book drone is too much for my throat.

me: i only hear about Call the Midwife when the Christmas special rolls out. i know this is a show apart from their Christmas episodes. i've never seen a regular episode is what i'm saying.

Auverin: same with Last Tango in Halifax. the show i blame for the premature cancellation of Vicious.

me: definitely needed a 3rd season. don't remind me of how good we had it. i still dance to that Vicious intro in my head.

Auverin: dance with me. at least dance in the library.

me: where were you?

Auverin: i lucked out and got an audition for a small small small role in one of this year's Oscar-nominated films. i can't say which. one screen-test led to another and i avoided entering the cutting-room door. i'm in!

me: get out, man! i'm the drama minor in this group.

Auverin: got an invite to the red carpet! bunches of brunches. literally spotted by a scout sipping coffee at the campus café.

me: cos you're hot. that would never happen to me.

Auverin: i'm going next week.

i look up to the little pane of window way up high past the tile rafters on the library roof. the point. the one access point outside. it's blocked, can't see a thing.

i race outside, which is something i am always loathe to do. past the two library lions guarding the entrance from junior-college interlopers.

i am only able to describe my experience of this then now after having learned the term from Gina. bomb cyclone.

it's snowing.


me: we sit down for Christmas brunch at night cos we'll be in church all day starting at midnight and i digest the most mouthwatering roulade with frosting. i even start appreciating the lights beaming through my bedroom window, they're pretty and festive and not real, just projections. they stay on a long time. i almost forget to shut them off at 10 cos i'm exhausted waiting in my bed for the ceremony to start. little did we all know that across the way from our house the neighbor had just died in her house. my mom and she were the bestest of old friends. that freaked me out, i started thinking about my own mother and her tears and her sudden span of free time, and that i didn't want to be around if anything life-changing major happened in the family. i wanted to be as far away as possible so it wouldn't impact me. we only had the lights on that one night. we didn't want to be showy in this moment of somber.

Auverin: you can't escape. California has earthquake faults longer than the state lines.

me: i'm from Hohman.

Auverin: i want to see a selfie of you in a pink bunny suit.

me: only if I get to be naked underneath.

Auverin: what kind of tree was it? that last year?

me: silvertip. that was my nickname in college. wait, this is the one place my usual line doesn't work! perfect for hanging huge glitzy ball ornaments on those impossibly strung-out needle hooks that get stuck under and destroy vacuum propellers.

Auverin: you know there's a story about this place. this library is haunted. as the prospectors with forked beards tell it, early on in the 1800s there stood a massive tree where this property sits now. it was so big and oaky anyone who came in contact with it would yell YES!, swale and hilly and swarthy alike, farmer and tourist. the villagers needed to booklearn but they were still environmentally conscious and didn't want to damage the tree in any way. you couldn't slice the tree skinnier, that would slice off its grandeur. a compromise was reached. the library would be built around the tree. some say that the tree never died but remains the very backbone of this institution to this day. inside the white dusty marble pillars of this lighthouse of books lie the original outline of the tree's branches. some squinters say you can still make out the apparition of the white woman beheaded, its guardian forest spirit. but that's just a tale for the Halloween office hours. on some nights, when the moon is wolfy enough, you can still place a star on top of the tree. it's the ultimate holiday tree. if you do it just right, your deepest darkest Christmas wish will come true.

the fireplace at the corner of the library lounge is almost out.

me: you should do a one-woman show. you're not a bad character troubadour.

Auverin: that's not a half-bad idea.


President Bump is still at that hackneyed holiday display fielding calls from lost children.

Bump: i want no one looking at my bedsheets till they're cleaned. my sheets have a lot of cheeseburger grease on them. if i'm gonna be poisoned i want McDonald's fat to be the dagger.

JUST THEN Gina De Vecchio saunters into the royal room.

Bump: oh my god! oh my gina! is this a dream?

Gina: you called for me, Mr. President?

Bump: yes. but i never thought it'd come true. i'm horrified now that my Melania has seen you.

Gina: what's that construction outside?

Bump: just some tinks. making the Cream House feel more like the Taj Mahal. my casino. please add your grace to this garish mahal intrigue. you with the pointy tits and soft, smoky, squeaky, seductive voice. please be my new First Lady.

Gina: i am hesistant to be a ho. especially this time of year. it's not my fault i'm hot.

Bump: no you misunderstand. and misrepresent. i simply want you to stand in the spot my Melania usually stands and act pretty. you don't have to say anything, just stand in the old spot. my wife had square tits.

Gina: sir, your wife is crying.

Bump: my Melania? OMG, cancel the order, how can this be? can a robot cry?

Lewandowski: can i leave finally?

Bump: the only reason this Corey stayed on, the only reason you adopted any of my policies, and put on the tough-guy street-thug act, and went on tv and acted blustery and indignant, was for access. you wanted the opportunity to fuck Hope Hicks. she's the best piece of tail any of us will ever have. i know.

Corey: i know, too. bigly. but sir, you're not allowed to say things like that anymore, even in a locker room. especially you. i'm a liberal in fact. i'm liberaler than Tom Steyer.

Bump: we're gonna need you.

Corey: for bodyguarding?

Bump: no, you're gonna be our poster child for the boyfriend loophole.

Ivanka, Jared, and Gannon are squeezed into a hot tub together. Gannon farts and Ivanka and Jared jump out.

Gannon: fine. more for me. can you smell that? no, not that, that. the suds. the steam coming off. i filled this tub with a thousand acid tabs. i need to ask myself the hard questions, after i inhale this, why do i keep coming back? i get destroyed by Link every single damn time but i'm always there for the next game!



a week went by. a week is a long time. it's not a long time for a student tripping over bargain fiction skidding on the race to Friday. but it's long for a boy not yet a man to speak with his burgeoning college friend and see what's going on. it was weird to have a friend. weirder to have a friend who was a girl. my first such friend. i really enjoy it, i see what all the fuss is about. she's a bony shoulder to cry on. i am happy and gay. i think what i appreciate most is she doesn't think me some creepish stalkerized weirdo, which i imagine is what most people cast me as.

when we meet in the lounge the first thing we notice is the pillows are cozier. our rumps appreciate it. we are in love. mutual love. with sandwiches. the way we describe sandwiches, which most take for granted, the texture of the spongy sourdough, the filling of the holes, the way the spread holds the layers together in a gooey gelatinous tasty glue.

me: i don't eat a lot of salami anymore. i notice after a big helping my lips start to smell smoky. they smell as if I've smoked an entire carton of cigarettes. this is my way of trying to quit. does this happen to you?

Auverin: what'd you get for Christmas this year?

well that was a loaded question. one which made me face the stark reality of many things rolled in one.

me: i don't remember. this last year was the first year i didn't go home for Christmas break. you may find that odd...

Auverin: no i get it. but i examine my impulses.

me: i just felt if i was ever gonna live on my own, i better start living on my own. i love my parents which made the decision harder. and for me. i simply had to burn the nest down and cut the safety nets. boy was that a miserable decision. i foolhardedly convinced myself the city christmas cheer would supplement any doldrums i had of missing the only people who actually cared for me. i spent lonely nights caressing the long hilly urban streets mittens in my pockets walking fast like a department-store Santa who just got fired for drinking. it made me clam up more, trust others less.

Auverin: mostly yourself.

Auverin polishes her stainless-steel water bottle with her tongue which wraps all the way around the bottle.

me: i felt a part of me would go missing forever. i lost my membership in the family. that year's photo album would be painfully blank. i would never know what that Christmas was like, a black hole would follow me like a Grinch who wants to sing. so in order to get some of that good will back, to recapture what wasn't there, to right a wrong that could never be retrieved, i started to think back to the last Christmas. the one i spent with my beloved folks. i remembered extra hard, making sure to affix those memories to the front of my brain.

Auverin: and?

me: i remember distinctly. each pane of wood i cleaned off. my house is stucco but the enclosed porch is wood where the roof overhangs. it's one of those areas that seems clean but in fact had never been cleaned. it was my job to spruce. holidays after all. at the time i must have thought this a pain in the ass, but my ass was skinny so it wasn't mean enough. i searched the house frantically for a broom, the rest of the fam was off at Macy's which must have expedited my next year's decision. nowhere to be found. i saw that broom everyday in my room but the one day you need the broom it's moved. so i painstakingly got the roll of paper towels and did it that way. using a den chair with a softee seat mind you, not a ladder, i reached with my gangly arms and swiped---instead of swept---each square of board till all the cobwebs were wiped. i wrenched around that filthy lantern lamp caked to the brim with dead insect wings, squishy larvae, and desiccated eggs which were once aborted fetuses. that was one fucked-up lantern lid. every corner, every line, every brown spot, till it was actionable. of course from afar it didn't look like anything. all in time to make the place presentable for the electrician. the electrician comes by and in a flash connects the NightStars thingie. it's a lamp that you pierce into the dirt flowers opposite the porch and it rains cool little stars on the side of your house to rid yourself of clumpy wire christmas light tangles once and for all. no way did he see the space or inspect its antisepsis. that electrician was busy admiring his long extension cord. he quickly plugged it in in the porch and went to his office Christmas party at Denny's. i used an entire roll of paper towels for that job, the trash can was filled to the brim with my damp dabs of dirt. i looked directly into the NightStars kettle and burned my eyes out for an hour. when i came to, i slid open the laundry slat door and the broom was right there.

Auverin: i like to put my used orange peels into the recycling bin, gives the oily junk a tangy fragrance.

me: i leave whole oranges in the bathroom. on the toilet lid. don't you eat those oranges tho.

Monday, January 1, 2018


1. did you make any resolutions at the start of 2017? if yes, how did you do at keeping them? what one thing are you still doing? to be kind. but i stole that from Doctor Who. well, i watched the Doctor Who Christmas special this year so that's a start. apparently her name isn't "Doctor Who" but it would be cooler if it was. writing. writing is all i've ever had.

2. pick three words to describe your year 2017. the. last. jedi space punch

3. what was your biggest personal change in 2017? i now have a fully-formed fear of death. it's fully realized with the night terrors and my midnight bed-screaming and everything. i'm firmly gripping.

4. what was totally unexpected in your 2017? they're working on another Lupin series after the Blue Jacket Italy one! in France! relieved. thank the japanese gods. you always gotta be planning your boredom schedule ahead, right? this time let's have that Lupin/Fujiko porn scene on top of a Parisian boudoir the fans demand. the scene begins of course with Lupin stuck in Fujiko's bidet...

5. what was the best thing that happened to you in 2017? it's legal in my state in honor of the start of this consequential year, it's time to switch beer brands...........

bonus: did you make new year's resolutions for 2018? share a few with us? any of them repeats from 2017?

the holidays are always strange for me. i appreciate the break from my hectic schedule, the sudden surge of stresslessness, but then there are no shows, the old ones are on break with you, the only ones that matter are on hiatus, and the new ones don't start till the new year. there's nothing to do. you're just there watching the Baltimore Ravens blow it and Edgar Allan Poe laughing like Muttley from his grave.


feliz Ano Novo meus bebes (this blog constantly switches to Chinese)