PREHISTORIC-CODE

learned:

* Barney (talking to himself): Betty's beating the fuck out of that rug. don't get on her bad side. just a mental note.

* Fred: the wives sure do work hard, huh?
Barney: yeah. wanna go help them?
Fred: nah.

* Barney: i'm bored all the time, Fred. no matter what i do, nothing energizes me. i'm dying, buddy.
Fred: *trademark laugh* nah, nobody every died of boredom. it's just life in the Stone Age.
Barney: do you think life will ever get better?
Fred: sure, once we get more technology. here, have a Winston Cigarette. now don't you feel better?
Barney: no, but i look cooler.

* Fred: yeah i know Winston, they come in all these delicious flavors like Fred Flintstone Fruit Punch, Wilma Watermelon, Barney Rubble Rhubarb, Betty Blueberry, and Dino Dill.
Barney: all i know is that my dad smoked.

* Fred: hey Barney ol' pal, what does the 20 on the box mean?
Barney: one smoke of this stuff is like smoking 20 cigarettes. also it takes 20 workers to make the tobacco specially selected and specially processed.
Fred: those 20 workers are living the dream...

* Wilma: are you trying to kill me, Fred?
Fred: WILMAAAAAAAAA! why would you say that, honey? i love you. let me light that cigarette for you.
Wilma: okay. just no more singing. you can't sing.

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happy weekend

DANSING

the homesteader is sitting slanted quiet brim of his hat covering his entire body. every so often an arm outstretches from the hat's ribbon to turn over the stick that's puncturing a hole in his can of beans over his open fire. Codrus tries not to make a sound as he approaches.

Codrus (chewing on a stalk of wheat): more for i don't want to disrupt the beauty of all this pristine white sand. now how the hell you make it all out here? where's your family?

homesteader (rubs his bald head): well now buckaroo i could ask you the same thing. a moonshiner's got to keep some secrets close to his overalls. let's just say we took the crazy train. can't you guys just leave us alone? the fact that you asked shows you got some growing to do. and that there are still pockets of resistance. *clinks his own gold teeth* cheers. escaping the gubmint wasn't the only reason we retreated to this rock. there's Stones in them thar hills. and might i say thank you for your aesthetic, this planet's mighty purdy. i think i go get high art anow, by gum. mostly i appreciate that it's barren.

Codrus: some of my best work. my only work. early work? there are pockets of adoration, too, i'm sure. i hear i'm huge on the Gram. but you can't keep running forever. soon the only wide open spaces left will be in your head.

homesteader: thank you kindly, sir. oh it's not so much a militia as a movement. i'm but a farmer tilling for new soil. my corn crop is my identity. i am corny, i make no dinosaur bones about it, ayephehehhee.

Codrus bellies up, waves his hat, and shouts YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWW as loud as he can.

Codrus: wow, there really is no reverberation here at all. you lucked out, as flat as ancient Earth.

homesteader (rubbing his belly): don't feel good, huh? doesn't feel right, right here in your medicine chest. when it's not yours. the smell of corporate takeover is of a staining coat of texas tea. devoid of history, richness. we are the real muricans. you have to admit, it's just not fair, when you guys always have all the power, by which i mean central heating. you'll always have the upper hand, the most resources, the most time, the most warm homes, the only guns. you have the heroic snipers, we have the cowardly ones. what are we on the other side to do? even when we win we lose. are we to trust you have our best interest, have all the answers? now if i could look you in the eye over a steaming succulent supper of hog and cob i could see how much mud was in there. i could spitshake and that'd be that. but you're always wearing those sunglasses, afraid to look at your horizon. *pats belly* yep yep yep yep yep, flat as daddy's belt, better to see you gubmint-men astalkin'...

the homesteader empties the full can into his mouth. there were no beans in there, only bullets.

homesteader: pardon my loud chewing. *separates the coals with his two-pronged twig then slowly looks up at Codrus* you don't come back now, ya hear?

Cotard: enough sleep, i'm bored. (*singsong*) whatcha doin'?

Codrus: divested a sunspot till i got down to beyond its essence in subatoms. i got Particle Fever! i saw processes running that were so tiny that got embarrassed when they were gazed upon for the first time by any entity that they hid and ran for cover. i'm telling you, it was due for a rewrite but a lot of this stuff is brand new, it's a shame to shelve it. don't worry, i'll incorporate it and be sure to give credit to the author with a link. if only humanity had lived to see...

...see what i'm working on presently? i'll show you number 3 of 8 concurrent projects i'm up to. see that white comet over there? go ahead and reach for it, touch it.

Cotard feels his hand engulf with a warm-but-not-in-a-good-way goo that smells of embarrassment.

Cotard: ew. i was expecting the notes again. what is this stuff?

Codrus: it's all me, baby. the universe is all me now. i miss my kids.

Cotard makes the Jenna Marbles face.

Cotard: dude, bad segue.

Codrus: i'm sure they made it off. kids see things in such different ways, ways adults can't. kids are supercharged with ready-and-willing imagination. kids are short, see, they can't see beyond the horizon so a tall building becomes a giant, a lush valley a German wood, an infinity pool the secret entrance to Atlantis. i'm sure they went off to fight the good fight, make good by me, emblazon my name across the galaxy. you know what? i can't take the suspense anymore, i know the college visit isn't until next weekend but this college thing is killing me. i need to know now. hey i'm just a product of my age.

Codrus pushes his hand long into a leftish quadrant of the universe and pulls out a box with four sides of different patterns of stars which eventually become the same pattern as they're manipulated around and the box opens with three college kids inside. the hand takes a long time to come back. in the meantime Cotard is noticing that outer space is raining, but it's disorienting, the rain is coming from downward, it's unclear where it's coming from.

Cotard: it's just not the same when the raindrops keep falling on my chin.

the hand becomes a giant foam finger in the black sky as it passes an asteroid where sits 5 Pointz. all that glorious graffiti, art, portraits of dead artists, those valuable memorizable illuminating dates of a creative artist who is gone save for anything he did on those walls and word of mouth, the history of hip-hop. Codrus takes a nearby white comet, they're everywhere lately, and squeezes it until white paint ejaculates out and whitewashes the whole of 5 Pointz.

Codrus: sorry, but it all has to go. fresh start. it's better to complete than compromise. less messy, less sticky on the hands than having to avoid certain lines.

Yayray (hiding in a secret location): skateboarding is not a crime. now who's the vandal? i'm all for blatant symbolism but this one hurts. this was our place, the man.

the hand turns into a hamsa with an eye in its palm. it gazes down upon the planet Kepler. there Codrus sees a woman in unusual medieval fatigues riding a goat with two tails back and forth, back and forth forever.

Codrus: she wears a battledress. by which i mean a battle skirt.

Codrus crumples up some stars and forms an ear constellation.

Codrus: i'm still able to hear soundings from a past-gone age.

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Codrus: how quaint. what's this, i don't recognize these voices:

Sid the Kid: i'm not all about looks but she needs to be hot. but mostly i'm looking for something that will take me offline forever.

the waiter: still got this atrocious hangnail. it's growing! i tried out some white-sand therapy to no avail, closed my eyes and stuck my hand in the sand but that didn't work.

Codrus: ah, you've all been properly cooked, my three amigos *upside-down exclamation point* you can come out now, my little darlings! what's this? there's the boy and the boy and the girl. you all look so gloomy. you're wearing all black so i can barely make out your profile in outer space. girl, what are your names again?

girl (monotone): we all got different names when we disowned you.

boy (monotone): um, all the kids on my campus are green. i don't fit in. i mean i'm Greek but i'm not THAT olive-skinned.

other boy (autotune): yeah, the army sucks. my drill sergeant particularly hates my music. who invented war anyway?

Codrus: gah! no it's worse! i see your colors now and they're not black, they're blue! you're all members of the Blue Force? the Blue Force?! why not the Red Force?! you joined the opposition, the traitors? you're breaking your old pa's heart!

girl: yeah i dunno, i like that the uniforms are blue, they match my soul of eternal despair. hey you got money for the bus?

Codrus (sweat on his brow): hehe, tell you what, i'll give you a free ride back. and i won't helicopter you anymore, the chopper blades always get stuck in this atmosphere. i'll let you breathe, i won't visit again till the Festival of the Singing Sun.

girl: what's that? sounds made up.

Codrus: yes, i just made it up. i can do that now. it's somewhere after Christmas but before Christmas. everyone dreads a new year.

Codrus hastily puts the lid back on the box with the kids inside and messes that operation up. the lid doesn't quite square up and catch and hits the corner of the box and tilts the box into a spinning freefall from which the young adults never recover. it just spins up and down but never left and right, never forwards or backwards.

Codrus: whoopies. that wasn't supposed to happen. i don't know how to stop this. that's gonna leave a mark. by which i mean quite a few lashings for the scientists in the church congregation. those poor souls are REALLY gonna be confused. oh well. cie la vie. live and learn. gotta leave the nest some time. probably won't be much snow forming. too many snowflakes anyway. not everyone can get into AP Chemistry.

Cotard is upon a glorious vacant sprawling ballroom adorned with heavy roped amber drapes. there's an aura of banana and cream and daisy. the lights are chartreuse and the tiles on the floor are maize. the overhead lights are little spinning ufos. Mama Fuerza alights on her tippytoes, her toes form into slippers. her beautifully florid flowered dress is made of straw. by which i mean is of silk of the color straw. the spotlight comes in and out but when it's in it dances lightly to Fuerza's many movements as she twirls herself throughout all the four corners. then she reaches the center of the room and trips over her excitement and lands on her shoulder, separating it. Cotard was already generally aware and miffed today but now he has a solid excuse.

Cotard: dammit, mom, i told you not to do unnecessary things! you're too old!

Fuerza: i'm too old to have fun? to live? i am to wither away, let my whiskers grow, and become a housecat? i may be decrepit but i shall dance! i shall be the decrepit dancer! that's all i ever wanted to be when i was a little girl working slave labor on the homestead back in the country of old. i could never slip into a tutu then so i slip now. never stop dreaming, son.

Cotard: dammit, mom, i'm having a bad day! God ate me. and now this happens. the hip surgery, once was enough. i can't go through this again, taking care of you, waiting on you hand and foot. it's more piling on. i'm already on pills. my thoughts can't bear more weight, i'm already draped in depression. i'm busy. too busy. i have important work to do. LET ME WATCH MY SHOWS ON TIME! when will this work happen? you only did this for attention!

Fuerza: i can't speak for my subconscious, but no. i'm old, mijo. i did it cos everyone does it. everyone wants to belong. and everyone wants to be free from belonging. after all i did for you, mijo? clothing you, feeding you, bathing you for 18 years....or actually, till right now and in the future. i kissed your booboos and got you into Boo-Boo Bear. i checked up on you and sent you my checks when you were low on spaghetti money. who got you your first gun? the one for Duck Hunt. that was such a terrible game in retrospect, bad influence, it got you hooked on videogames. and from there it was priest or bust. okay, then, who let you climb on mama's rosary and let you swing on it till all the beads came apart and scattered all over the floor? who let you keep all those beads you had to clean up? it's not a big deal. a little tit is not so much to ask for my tat.

Cotard: please, ma, i don't want that image in my head. i starve when i'm in charge of food. it's so unfair, you'll always have the upper hand which never raised up to me. you raised me spank-free. you showed me love, which is something i wasn't thinking about when i was born. i could never repay you, you own me with your kindness.

the spotlight turns bright and burning and focuses on Cotard.

Cotard: oh for god sake, enough with the lights! *squeezing Fuerza's shoulders* mama, do i have to shake it into you? will this jog your memory? is your skull too thick? DON'T LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON! AND DON'T LEAVE THE OVERHEAD ROTATING FAN ON ALL NIGHT! the screws will come loose! those blades are unpredictable. it's a waste of electricity. and it's a sign of the end.

Fuerza: i was not yet a woman much less a mother. but, mijo, mothering transforms into an instinct after awhile, you're thrust into it and you adapt. you learn the secrets from an invisible book. you let your pupils settle on the brightness of a tiny spirit so small and helpless and hot and with all of its fingers and toes it gives you quickie lasik surgery at the mall when you aren't looking. you'll learn these things in time. i don't believe in too much light. seeing it is just the beginning. seeing is believing. if you won't help me, i'll help myself. what else is new, huh? don't worry, i won't bother you anymore. i can only be me...

Codrus: let's see, think i'll make a happy little planet over here. oh, it looks like a cloud *squeezes more white juice from neighboring comets he summons from all across the galaxy* yes, nice and messy, into a big sticky ball, forming the core...

Yayray (coming out of the forming planet): you slimeball! it's one thing when you're young but when you're old still doing it...

Yayray touches with two fingers Codrus's shoulder, lightly brushing up on Codrus. Codrus feels extreme bitter cold, like a glacier smushed into an icepick that was sharpened as much as it could be, a freezing pencil. the planet has turned into a solid block of ice.

Yayray: what did you do today? thanks for caring about me, granmama, well nothing much, just

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Codrus (unfazed): everytime you don't kill me.............*brrr* think i need to borrow Cotard's robe.

Yayray (smiling): that's not cold you feel. and not cold you see. it's just that, well, it's just that i'm so hot, so incalculably flamey, that the hot has nowhere to go but down, it's as high as it can be, so it turns to cold. burning cold. weather, huh? unpredictable. i love how it's designed like that, i appreciate that about it the most.

Codrus: where's the music? i shan't dance without music.

Kepler, the ice/fire planet, and the spherical moon-on-a-stick that Codrus is sucking on all start playing music. they are all remixes of the original music played by the Singing Towers of Darillium a time ago.

Yayray (head tilted): let's tussle.

Fuerza gently wriggles herself loose from Cotard's iron grip, grazing his fingernails with hers. Cotard cries a river that coagulates into the spot on the floor where Fuerza slips. Fuerza slips back and forth on that spot forever.

TMIT: OLDE YEAR

becoming ye olde year...

what is sexier?
1. arms or shoulders? shoulders. shoulders are boulder holders.
2. ass or legs? Assy McGee is the sexiest combination of both.
3. pussy or dick? why? now take a look up there. you tell me cos i sure can't choose. cat or duck, both are cute in their own way. more importantly, they feed off each other's cuteness until there's an overload. we need more of this kind of overload in the world, not another terrorist bomb.
4. feet or hands? why? one word: hamsa. why? cos a hot babe has a hamsa tattoo on her side, that's all that really matters.
5. muscles or brains? why? the brain is a muscle which must be worked out or it will deflate and die. except in my case. i have a cyberbrain that's controlled by the CIA. shit, i wasn't supposed to tell you that. i now expect a knock on my door from the muscle come from Washington wearing black fedoras and sonic sunglasses and lead pipes. they'll say they just want to talk but i know they really want to take me to the cleaners. while my good suit is being pressed they'll run me through the car wash. of course i'm not sure if this is really happening to me or is a program running in my brain. i can't answer the door cos i'm all plugged in.

folks, sexiness is a gift from God. we, you and me, those who are blessed with the gift have a duty to spread our sexiness around the globe. shed some of that extra glitter to others so the world will be a happier, better, more stylish place. one day the dream will be realized. every single one of us living on this planet now or before will walk out our doors proudly wearing our latex pants and heels. all this hotness will cause a seismic shift and bring the dinosaurs back to life. only they won't be the dinosaurs we learned about in school. these dinosaurs will be wearing eyeshadow. and moisturizer for their rough scaly skin.

bonus: do you think you're sexy? come on sugar let me know. actually don't. i'm sorry. i've been living a lie this whole time. honey, you're sweet. that's just it. that's the problem. i've been a prick. please don't let me know. i can't take you anymore. i want to but if i love you more i'll die. i have the diabeetus.

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BOLD SOUL

learned:

* so the Next Big Bang's coming. but y'know, as long as the explosions are in rhythm with the music, i'm cool with it. destruction's gotta have a beat. there's no creation without creativity. still haven't seen that show.

* Lady Gaga's origin story. she was too colorful even for the other colorful birds in the woods. she ended up becoming the first cosplayer. this is what killed the dinosaurs.

* believe it or not, there was a time when people drank coffee without zarfs. they used these bigass mugs and stone tankards and sometimes they just cupped their hands.

* personally, i think having an imaginary friend is healthy. it's not a sign that you're crazy. in my experience, this is just me now, but my imaginary friend: best sex i ever had.

* see? Bigfoot's not scary. all Bigfoot wants to do is shred the gnar like everyone else.

* Google Maps: want to help us out?
Phoenix: fuck yeah! where are you paying for me to go?
Google Maps: New Jersey.
Phoenix: oh.
Chris Christie: hello there, young man. my name is Chris Christie. i'm running for president.
Phoenix: oh, that's nice. Chris Christie, that's gotta be a stage name. do i have to answer three riddles before you let me cross your bridge?

* God was the first drone. but for whom was God collecting information?

* damn that Gandhi got buff.

* BELIEVE pickup truck with the flame decals and the tire fire: Mulder's truck. i'm not naming any suspects but this is why smoking cigarettes all the time is bad.

* did you know that if you arrange all the continents on Earth you can form a chicken?

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happy weekend. another year already? what took so long? i'm an old man. i look old for my age...

GUANXI

Codrus knocks heads with a sleeping Cotard.

Codrus: sorry, buddy, didn't see you there.

Cotard: i've never lived until now...

Codrus: that's for sure! look at us! we're the kings of the world! let's make our final battle clean and balanced and well-fought. and fair above all. i want to feel i've earned my status as Postgod.

Cotard rubs the saliva from his mouth and tastes the airless air of outer space.

Cotard: no worries, my friend. thank you for letting me sleep. i see we can still stand up in the middle of the cosmos and fly without wings. victims to gravity no more. we can move fluidly throughout the black destiny of space like birds. if this is a dream may we never wake up.

Codrus: i know, right? the key will be when we can balance ourselves upon the middle of time and look out in all directions wondering where to go next. that TARDIS is too clunky. for now, we're Superman in real life. and look, right on Christmas cue, here come the three wiseguys.

three asteroids speed along the dark sky as if they're late for the office party after drinking too much holiday nog. one is a big frozen rock of clear white ice. you can see Walt Disney motionless in it. Walt's wtf face indicates that this is not comfortable and he wants to make another movie. a lightsaber glows red on top of the space ice cube trying to burrow its way through the ice and onto Walt's outstretched hand. Walt was wishing upon something when he went. Codrus turns his head around and turns Cotard's head around for him. the two can see the other side of the asteroid without moving. on the back of the Disney dolomite is a manger scene. Han Solo comes out of Greedo's gun and Greedo comes out of Han's gun in the background. Boba Fett's in the middle. all three wear crowns. in the foreground Princess Leia wears her traditional white shawl but it covers her head. Luke is there in a long beige shepherd robe holding a crooked cane. Leia cradles a baby. the baby wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes is cute little green Yoda. you can only see Yoda's face. Yoda sticks out his tongue. on the second asteroid, Superman stands proudly arms akimbo gazing out into the galaxy. the reverse has Goku striking the same pose guarding over the other side of the universe.

Codrus: the third asteroid is hard to see. well for mere mortals. see Charles Darwin on the tabletop of that floating rock working furiously on his oak desk? he's scribbling notes but his mind is always faster than his wrist. if you watch closely, you can see microscopic organisms dancing by his feet. see them?

Cotard: yes.

Codrus: now if we look on the other side of this particular asteroid we see that the dance is really these microorganisms struggling to survive. but there is nothing on the other side. a black hole inside a black hole. the microorganisms are clamoring aloud but it's too soft to hear: why do we survive? what is this charge that spurs us on toward survival if there is nothing to survive for? it's all just meaningless anyway. we're all just gonna die, that is all our fates, there is no lasting. and yet our impetus to survive is there. it's not not there, it's not in keeping with the all-encompassing nihilism of the night sky. the struggle is real. that's just it, the struggle is indeed real, it exists. now the purpose of survival, well that's advanced theory, maybe we'll come to that when we get older and acquire a few more cells.

a fierce red comet barnstorms its way toward Codrus with a quickness which takes him aback. he tries to hide his hesitation with his fingers.

Codrus: gotta make sure this isn't you know who.......................it's not, ha..................carry on

Codrus grabs the comet midflight and slurps it into his gut like spaghetti, sucking all its energy into his breath, warming his breath. you can see the breath of the two combatants with the letter C when they exhale, it shoots out like stardust.

Codrus: it's always a cold day. do you know what wishing stars are really made of? go ahead, take a look.

Codrus removes the half-digested star from his stomach and hands it to Cotard.

Codrus: i've broken it down a bit so you can see its insides.

into Cotard's hands fall millions of handwritten notes from children and grown-up children all over the world with their deepest darkest desires for themselves and their families, wishes for good fortune throughout their lives, appeals to Job, desperate invocations to dead relatives, suicide notes, prayers to Deepak Chopra, and a recipe for authentic spaghetti. mostly written from the sides of beds, whether at home or beds in various hospitals.

Cotard: of course all of these souls are long since gone. oh chillen, don't you worry your little heads, i will be your Santy Claus.

Codrus: don't let this space fool you. watch this space, watch it for awhile, see how it trembles before me, I control it, i mold it, manipulate it, i am the artist at the end of time, i put on my black beret and dare to claim the empty throne which has grown dusty from everyone else who ever lived assuming it was taken. it was a game, sure, but now it's my game, it's under my steady control, i make the rules, i punched my hand where it didn't belong. space is my baby, it lives under my contours, i am free to roam around and create new spacetime, a new star from my eyetear, a new tear in the fabric from the scar on my abdomen. now i have a reason not to cut my toenails, they're burgeoning dimensions. fly eagle fly. I'M THE QUEEN OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE! i'm the Ronda Rousey of the universe! i mean i'm the Holly Holm of the universe!!!

Codrus begins expanding his body and slowly destroys the x axis. the y axis is holding on by a thread but it intersects with the z axis and it's a most crucial interception in the ball game. that was not the gameplan. the center cannot hold, it creates a new circle with a new letter addressed to no one. Codrus's stomach doesn't get fatter as much as it gets a bigger sixpack.

Cotard: well now you're just showing off. you don't have to rub it in my face that i need to work out more. new years resolutions. it's tough for a local parishioner, nobody should have to choose between church dues and gym dues. hey before you go, would you mind giving us all a Christmas message on my instagram?

Codrus wobbles around.

Codrus: i'm not used to my new body, haven't grown into it yet. i have fat fingers but let's see if i can type. there you go, send that out to whatever alien species are left. heeheeheehee.

Codrus sends out an inspo quote in white letters against a red-and-green backdrop which reads:

REMEMBER: DON'T KILL YOURSELF

Cotard reads this on his phone with a sly smile and keeps calm.

MEANWHILE back at the rectangle box which provides a cover shelter haven outside space and time for Cotard's mother Fuerza and her three new friends, Mama Fuerza is having a deeply engaging philosophical discussion with Tror.

Fuerza: it's so deeply engaging it's put your poor parents to sleep. let them rest, i envy them. what i mean is that you've stopped me from my third wine, that's an accomplishment. i do enjoy our talks, it's just that i'm old and that affords me the luxury of dreaming more, reminiscing and nostalgicizing.

Tror (blowing bubbles): you were telling me about the door thing?

Fuerza: *hiccup* what? oh yes. right. the door. well you see when people enter a dark room, say a gamer's basement, they blindly wave their arms around like a chicken looking for the light switch. they dare not go down another step without the light on. after a few tries, or rather one aborted try, they give up and walk out. better safe than sorry. but what they are missing! it's not so much the stuff in the room as the door to the next room inside the staircase. and on and on, all the rooms are connected in this way. i got connections, man. why aren't you wearing your shades, daddy-o? i don't wear mine to be cool, they're prescription.

Tror: oh but you are one cool kitten, ms. fuerza. my eyes are used to extreme brightness from home. my pupils evolved, their final form has them already wearing tiny sunglasses. i can see the door of which you speak. shall we go inside?

Mama smiles. on the other side of this door on the side of the stairs is another boxy room which has been set up. there Bridge is pregnant with Kenyatta's baby, the first natural birth from two women in the history of human time. Kiss the kitten is seen prancing around curling around Kenyatta's leg purring. Cotard appears and lovingly hugs his cat rough-pockmarked cheek to furry cheek. his tear trickles down and hits Kiss's oval cateye.

Cotard: one more time.

Kiss: it's okay, fam, we all must make sacrifices. it makes us bigger.

Kiss transforms into a black-footed cat and jumps into Bridge's stomach. he rolls around in there like he's playing with a bigass ball of yarn. Kiss then transforms into his final form: a human baby that cries only once as it comes out of Bridge's vagina.

Cotard touches the foreheads of Bridge and Kenyatta at the same time with his two pushing fingers each.

Kenyatta: don't close your eyes, Father. *smiles* it's okay. Cotard, we're friends. thank you from both of me *half-nod/half-bow*

Cotard (with intensity): my child, my sistren, my friends, coworkers, comrades, compatriots. be merry. and remember, this is what's real. by which i mean this is real. don't believe anything or anyone else. today a child is born.

if you were to stare at and go from this room through the stair door of this room you'd enter a very special place. located in the clump of half-propped-up buildings next to the Surf Shack. a makeshift hospital area of cots like on M*A*S*H. there lies a young woman on a bed recently deceased from a fatal terminal degenerative hopeless brain disease just starting to thrive again for the first time in her death. a volleyball athlete. at her bedside is LeBron James.

LeBron: told you.

Lauren: LeBron? you didn't forget me! you did come to see me again! where am i? who am i?

LeBron: when am i? sorry, had to. i guess we can joke now that you're out of the woods. what's your name again?

Lauren: i forgot.

LeBron: okay, let's go with Lauren.

Lauren: so you're dead?

LeBron: come on, man, i'm LeBron James. i gotta still prove myself. there are those out there who think i can't get it done. that's what spurs me. gotta get back to the game, we're down by 2 at San Antonio. i didn't want to get fouled but i did. doesn't always go to plan. i have to sink these freethrows. no time on the clock. see Shaquille O'Neal behind me?

Lauren: i missed him.

LeBron: Shaq'll look after you the rest of the way. he has time. he's retired and sick of doing those ads, he feels too bonded. talk to him when you get lonely, he's affable, friendly, cool, funny. i wish all giants were gentle.

LeBron gets up and stands up straight. his tats shine against the ocean mist from outside.

LeBron: wherever there's a sports fan in a world, whenever, that sports fan connects to the endless timeline, from Bill Walton to Jordan Curry (nicknamed Magic Jr). there is no finish line. i live in that sports fan's heart, dribbling around depression, traveling illegally through tumors, dunking on death. throwing it down on the big man. posterizing pestilence.

Lauren: thank you. i'm definitely gonna get more into basketball now.

Codrus is ballooning. his ears, furrow freckles, the edge of his ears, his hollows, tubes, capillaries, neurons, sockets, cavities nasal and tooth, thin lips and glottala of a red palette, head lice which turn into snakes, precious neck veins, his neck that's too small for any sort of vicious necktie, not-level collarbone, heart that's too sizes to the left of where it should be, sagging pecs, bellybutton that's neither an innie nor an outie but a flatty, curling fingernails, armpits no wormhole can mask the odor of, hairy penile implant, strained calves, all enlarge. there's an ass but there is no butt to speak of.

Codrus's appendages all coil and curve in a c forming the extra-long tubular side of a giant space dragon. his lines spread all across the far reaches of the galaxy in every direction. as he approaches edges, black latches try to insert his body parts into nice evenly-cut holes and snap him in his right place. instead Codrus smirks and pushes his parts into squares which slowly reach the other side of nothingness. at every edge a peg. he has the edge.

Codrus opens his huge

MOUTH REVEALING SOME FREAKY TEETH AND A TONGUE SWIRLING THE MILKY WAY GALAXY, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

at the moment Cotard can't escape and he's enveloped in a pink film that is thick but nevertheless Cotard is able to see through it. one corner of the galaxy Codrus's body turns into the head of the mythic dragon of old. to the immediate left of this Codrus is the bull snorting huffily continuously. up from this he's a monkey holding a rat by the tail who's holding the monkey by the tail as they each juggle each other's glass balls. down from this the new universe presents its last head as that of a green bald eagle who has on top of its head the most all-over-the-place strawy hair that was once smooth silk from the loom of a German fairy tale.

Codrus: you are now inside my stomach. you can only see what i deem to show you. you will see only through me, what i want you to see. give a brother a break, moving's hard. now if you're a well-behaved good little demigod i may allow you to see the new digs when i'm finished. all this white is blinding me. but it needs to adjust to my eyes. nothing scarier than a blank page that just stares back at you.

Cotard maintains his smile spilling out the side of his mouth. Cotard gives a most sexy man-pout as he peruses the vista from his new bubble. Cotard is pretty sexy for a monk but he can't stay, Cotard has had a long day and needs to go back to sleep.

WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

NO, DOWN HERE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK


happy weekend, happy Everything, happy holidaze...

BUMS

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TMIT: PHOENIX DOWN

1. have you had major surgery? what type? root canal. i think. i fainted before the procedure and woke up ten hours later with gas breath on a couch by a plastic plant. soothing elevator music broke the otherwise silent room. i needed a candy break like all humans do and remember popping an everlasting gobstopper into my mouth and feeling no pain in my tooth as i bit down. that gobstopper is still in my mouth...

2. have you died and been resuscitated? yes. there's nothing on the other side.

3. do you have surgery scars that embarrass you? where? i have these two bolts sticking out of either side of my neck. the kids in my class make fun of me cos my dad is crazy. Charlie Brown comics hurt my feelings when i see BLOCKHEAD in bold type. i eat my spaghetti with a spoon cos i'm deathly afraid of forks. i eat my spaghetti cold cos i'm deathly afraid of anything heated. i enjoy the open countryside, though. oh, and my skin is green. that shouldn't matter in this day and age but it still does. it's not easy being green.

4. do you have a scar, on your body, of which you are proud?

SOMETIMES IT'S THE SCARS YOU DON'T SEE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

5. have you ever played doctor and nurse as foreplay for sex? which were you---doctor or nurse? i played Dr. Freud. or no, wait, i played a cigar. a plain ol' ordinary cigar.

bonus: do you like bdsm medical play? what about it excites you? when i was in the mental hospital, i remember the nurse there giving me a wink and a smirk when she told me it was time for my sponge bath. my leg hurt. no, not that leg, my right leg and i didn't know why. i gotta say, this scenario was the furthest thing from sexy. it was embarrassing and uncomfortable. see this is why porn could never work in the real world. the pizza guy really came just to deliver your pizza, he's pinching pennies to make it through college, he's not pinching anything else. there is a definite difference between fantasy and reality.


CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY


happy holidays to all my babies out there! i meant my readers, i don't have kids.

IT WAS NEVER "A NEW HOPE" TO US, IT WAS JUST "STAR WARS"

learned:

* Barbie was the original Princess Leia.

* remember, this isn't about you. it's not about your fatal attraction to Jar Jar Binks. you are but a cog. you were born to make money. you were born to break the record. when you go to the theatre tonight and moaningly brave the long lines, think back to your grandparents who stood in line during the Great Blizzard of '77 to see the original. and they did it barefoot. you are part of history.

* somewhere in space, this may all be happening right now. it's happening in the future, but it happened in the past.

* *Chewbacca eats Princess Leia's buns*

* Darth Vader: you are part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor! take her away!

Princess Leia laughs.

Darth Vader: sorry, i was using my David Prowse voice.

* Princess Leia: why is that needle so damn big?
Darth Vader: that's the standard size for this vaccine.
Princess Leia: see?! that proves it! vaccines are bad!

* C-3PO: hello.
Luke: hello.
R2-D2 (with harmonica): hello.
all three (in harmony Three Stooges style): HELLO!

* Cantina bartender: what the fuck, old man?!
Obi-Wan: get me my goddamn tea! Earl Grey, hot.

* Princess Leia kisses Luke on the cheek.
Princess Leia: for luck.
Luke (disappointed): aw.

* Obi-Wan: how do you like my long white penis?
Darth Vader: that's taking it too far!
Darth Vader takes off his mask and it's President Ronald Reagan.
Reagan: this is where the Star Wars meeting is, right?

* Han Solo: why'd it have to be trash? KID!
Luke: aw man, i'm too smelly. Princess Leia will never kiss me for real.
Princess Leia: not necessarily. my father was a garbageman.

* three billion years in the making......i mean a billion years in the making.......come on, people, let's break that $3 billion ceiling!



CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK



happy weekend. may the Schwartz be with you.

A PLACE OF OUR OWN

Cotard: dancing makes me horny!

Codrus: what? and why are you so close to my face? i need my personal space.

Cotard: it seems the further we get from one another the more we realize space is an illusion.

the two cosmic wanderlusters move within their bubble to the Asteroid Field.

Cotard: i thought we were going to the Sun. and are we driving the bubble or is the bubble driving us?

Codrus: not exactly sure but i'll know one day. it's like a ouija thing. i always get those two heavenly bodies confused, the Sun and Jupiter.

Codrus has split his hands into eight legs and is sucking the life out of Cotard's poor right shoulder, the one that lodged the knife into Codrus. literally. there's fluid everywhere that spills then ascends.

Cotard: octopussy move.

there's not much to do as the two ride their space car on the final frontier. they regale each other the best they can with tales that may or may not be true. they reach the first outerband of asteroids. there's one that stands out from the rest cos it's more greenish, like there's signs of life on this floating rock. a garden hose materializes from the leftover Moondust occupying the bottom floor of the bubble. the dust has since formed into pebbles and has become decidely pointed.

Cotard: shag carpet is always a must.

Cotard sprays the water from the hose forcibly in Codrus's face, shooing him away for a nanosecond. Cotard then takes a drink of water from the hose, breathing erratically, making a satisfied sucking sound with his big intaking lips.

Cotard: natural at its finest. hey have you seen my drawings? i like to sketch. well i've thought about sketching for years. i was the best drawer in the world when i was a kid. i had no one to compare it to being an only child but i was the best. i wanted to draw the world, i said as much to a priest one confession and impressed the fuck out of him. i've never seen a priest smile so wide since. then as i unfortunately grew up, shit like tests and dates made me concentrate on my performance anxiety more than my pencil. i shifted to stories i didn't have time to illustrate also anymore. oh but the last couple of years i've been itchin' to get back to the central craft. words can only take you so far, they're too constricting, too derivative of ancient cultures, contained in strangling syntax and garrulous grammar. if you use too many of your own made-up words and neologisms, no one will understand what you're saying. and what is the purpose of unshared art? but drawing is truly the one that aligns with unlimited imagination. the line is just the start, begging to be crayoned over to enter the space outside which goes on forever. have a looksee at my booksee.

Codrus: that's very good. nice linework. of course the cover is your mother. that Fuerza, you don't have to like her but you gotta respect her.

Cotard: that's good advice. wish i had. i just want to be an artist that matters. it's so hard to get noticed. everyone's the same tortured soul. everyone has an original idea that's the same as the other guy's original idea. both guys are naturally fighting over the same gal. the gal's ideas will remain covered up and never broadcast. it's never about the art itself. all art is the delightful consequence of desperately trying to get laid.

Codrus: sex is all. everytime i say that word i get all jinglyjangly inside.

Cotard: sex?

Codrus: all. hey look at the green asteroid over there. now watch me manipulate my eight fingers and turn the crag into a smooth sleek upside-down pyramid.

Codrus: HEYUMP!

Codrus: *ah* *ahhhhh* see? perfect. i'm nothing if not symbolic. the plane surface of the upside-down pyramid is the stage upon which any show can be produced and performed. i have the money...

Cotard: and i have the acting chops. hey how do you think i became the most sought-after religious figure after Alberto Cutie according to Forbes? this was before the internet and Pope heels. Jesus wasn't just the Son of God, He had charisma, too.

Codrus: take a look at what's on the asteroid, it's the cast of Wizard of Oz, the original one, 1939. they were so professional back then, the show is going swimmingly. it's like you're looking at a movie but it's real life. those poor Munchkins. and poor Judy Garland, sweet child who has to grow up. each of these asteroids represents another stage in which the Collective Creative Soul takes another opportunity to iterate itself again. see there, other authors taking on the challenge of coming up with characters that are of this life but living in worlds that are like ours but not. i think i see the Aldous Asteroid in the back there.

Cotard: Huxley?

Codrus: Snow. speaking of, this place desperately needs to get wet.

Codrus lifts his eight webbed fingers and it starts to snow in space on top of the Field.

Codrus: look at the Sun. watch as i guide my hand and bring the Sun towards us. see? it's moving to the Field. i know, i know, one more nanoinch and everything burns to a crisp. i think that's where Hell comes from. what are the chances we get another Earth? all of the infinitesimal permutations that took place to form the exact eventful chain. and to be spaced perfectly. that's the key, that space is perfect. the answer is Kepler. Hell is simply the state of not being precise.

Cotard: whoa there, cowboy, if not for me we'dve evaporated before you'd get off that soliloquy. the tragedy is not in the human condition but in that we'd never know your final words. tragedy on stage. i pushed the Sun back.

Codrus: *ahem*, as i was saying, look at the Wizard cast, i'm slowly cooking them, everything must die to make room for the sequel, they won't live but their work is granted eternal life as ash scattered into outer space. the stars become stars. outer space is really just one big netflix database conveniently catalogued awaiting the aliens to come and choose a payment plan for our services. it's always time to chill in space, it's freezing.

Cotard: NO! never again. never forget. i won't let you burn people anymore. i don't see what you get out of this, shouldn't gods be above getting their jollies?

Codrus: should but it sounds so boring. you can think of a thing but what's the point if you can't feel the thing?

Cotard: you are cooking them, sure, but i'm making sure you're cooking them till they're nice and brown, dipped in, sauteed in, soaking in, drowned in the juices of their painful history. they're simmering with resentment but also have a glaze coated onto them, a shield of strength that you can't get without centuries of reduction. look.

in the place of the 1939 cast of the Wizard of Oz on the asteroid stage stands the cast of The Wiz.

Cotard: what a Monday that was! i hate Mondays, too, usually. the first one, the original one, October 21, 1974. reviews said the acting was wooden, the Tin Man's brilliant performance. Mechanic Theatre, where mechanics of the Creative Soul tinkered away, turning the grey dough of their minds into a real baguette that their mouths could feel.

Cotard and Codrus travel inward to the darker more intense rows of rocks in the Field.

Codrus: here are the masters, who are also the lifers, the good kind of misfits, the geniuses of their truth, the asteroids more set in their ways after years of the powers that be forcing them to circle the wagons of their orbit, coarser, harder to work with, harder to melt though the son has tried, every once in a while one of them leaves their orbit to see what it's like never to be heard from again. Galileo and Jobs, i see Eisenstein and Tarantino, Cam Newton with his black boot stamping on Tom Brady's face which remains model-handsome, Kurosawa holding a blazing samurai sword in the sky that's making it hard for me to see anyone else. ah, here is the Lucas stage on that asteroid to the far right.

Cotard: Spielberg is not gonna be happy about this.

Codrus: look at the craftsmanship of that asteroid! i don't think i could make it smoother. this stage is hard as a rock. here they all are: the two robots, Luke, Han Solo on a space plane, a woman that tastes like cinnamon buns, and a badass dude who does not need to be cooked anymore, he's set in his ways. oh, and there's some weird jinglyjangly alien with a longass tongue that's creeping me out. and some new faces i don't know obscured by lens flares. Star Wars---of course it's in space!---is the Ultimate Iteration of the Creative Soul. it's the perfect instance of the Creative Soul going all out and fulfilling itself to the upper hilt of what it can be, what it can achieve, cutting through all threads. it's humanity at its most charged.

Cotard: i have a feeling a lot of this will be coming back soon. what's that square?

Codrus: look at the Sun. see those three people in the square? the weird old man is Gora, his wife is Vara, their child is Tror. Tror came out of Vara's vagina and he's the first human in history who remembers that experience so he's a happy man. Tror is also Gora's father but that's not important now. see all this time for millennia and aeons these people have thought that all the light they saw around them constantly was divine. they thought they were in Heaven. but they were just in my clear box, made from the same substance as our bubble, inside the Sun! *snort snort giggle giggle snicker Snickers Muttley laugh* perspective is everything, eh? there are no facts, just interpretations. *heheheheheh* ahh, what fools these immortals be!

Fuerza enters the clear box and ushers Gora, Vara, and their mankid out and into Fuerza's box.

Fuerza: ah, i can't see anything, it's too bright!

Cotard: Ma, you left the lights on again! how many times i gotta tell you!

Fuerza: file in, folks, i'll tell you a story of the Old Country to while the time, we got plenty of it.

Gora: stories?

Vara: time?

Tror: both.

Cotard: see? this is exactly how it would always play out. i'm trying to draw and Ma distracts me with stories.

Cotard feels his remembered anger draining out an unknown hole in his body. he doesn't feel the hot of the sun but the warm. he's been in a bubble this entire time but this is the first he feels inside a cocoon.

FUERZA BEGINS HER TALE AT THE BEGINNING, WHEN WOMEN WERE LEGEND AND MEN HAD TAILS, WHERE SHE BIRTHED AND BATHED, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

Codrus, a little miffed, dimly tries to pull up a ray of the Sun but is blocked by an unknown force.

Codrus: what the...?

the Sun transforms into an outline of stars dotting the sky. they form an outline of a woman that has a shape but no face. she radiates a tired beauty and an old, wellworn strength. Yayray comes up from the hole where her heart should be, he comes out of his human-match shape and explodes everytime he smiles.

Yayray: the rays! hello, you magnificent bastard, and you are a bastard. you'll never hurt my family again. you'll never hurt anyone again! i'm just getting started. it's like when you think you're coming to the end of the movie but it's a fake ending and the damn movie drags on for another 15 minutes. and then there's another false ending before the real one. Lord of the Saturn Rings. meet my Grandmama, ain't she wonderful?

Binny and Quinny form the two eyes of Grandmama with the head of Yayray's match forming the third eye. Quinny is fiddling with an ipad mini.

Quinny: it never ends, does it?

Binny: go for it. it's the exact opposite on the other side. what are you waiting for? learn!

Quinny: i'm waiting for my tablet to update. everything we've ever known now needs a Kepler patch. you can't say Dick Durrance is the best skier anymore cos what about the ones on Kepler?

Binny: just point me in the direction of their green version of Chapstick Chaffee. hurry, my lips are getting chapped out here.

Yayray: i've never been more proud to be black. black being. i love my black anger, it's so righteous and earned. i love my black in the black of space. i have space to beatdown you. i never forget. a short burst of anger beats years of training. the gun destroyed karate. you in the hood now, punk, the paved streets, dis be my turf.

Yayray glistening with shards of the Stones in his empty belly transforms into the Elephant's Trunk Nebula and screams into an orange fireball of glory which lights up all of space for a short while like a dying star going supernova. the force knocks Codrus and the bubble and Cotard flying into the next county.

Yayray: sorry, man.

as Cotard is knocked back, or knocked forward rather, he quietly fistpumps under his invisible robe.

Cotard (gums flapping in the space wind): no prob, my bro. i understand. collateral damage. can't be helped. for we are all one.

Codrus spots two comets on either side of him and thinks about holding onto them as railings to smooth out his slide.

Codrus: i just need one good stroke.

but Codrus is too scared the two comets are Yayray's legs and he'd get kicked in the balls. or worse yet, they're Yayray's arms and Codrus would have to touch Yayray's shoulder.

three pillars loom ahead which bring a frosty fright into Codrus's heart, a dampening distraction from the chaos of spinning in a ball out of control. it's a jolt from a heart attack more than it is a skip.

Codrus: i want mundane now, i need to hear myself think. the world is getting majestic. i'm getting menacing.