"The pellet with the poison’s in the vessel with the pestle, the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true"

I went to a movie by myself for the first time in my life. I've always wanted to go by myself and have always meant to but have never been able to get it together. I see about 5-10 movies a year in the theaters - and this amount is dwindling because of, mostly, other people being rude and the normal, stupid people they are. Last year, I threatened to kill a 12 year old kid. Today I almost strangled a guy who was gargling his Coke. I mean, who wants to watch a movie in close proximity to a complete stranger anyway?

So. Went by myself today and realized:

that it's exactly the same as going with somebody else except that you have more food to yourself

you feel kind of creepy in a Paul Reubens way

you exit the theater and get to your car faster

that you might go by yourself again

Lost

"The body of John Lantham of New York was found shortly after 4 am in the 4300 block of Grand Avenue.

Ted Worden, a doorman at the Tower Lofts complex, heard loud noises coming from the victim's loft.

Concerned for tenants' safety, he entered the loft and found the body hanging from a beam in the living room.

According to Jaime Ortiz, a police spokesman, the incident was deemed a suicide after medical tests. Latham (sic) is survived by one teenaged son.

Memorial services will be held at the Hoffs-Drawlar Funeral Home tomorrow evening."

Found the post - difference is that now I fully admit to a lifelong's worth of depression, addiction and Restless Leg Syndrome...and Quadsexuality...

(so this is a repost or a repost of a post...)

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I Don't Know If This Was Written For Fat Free Milk - But I Found It In An Old File...

John Constantine…

Waking up can be a mistake. Some days, I feel like I’ve made a bad choice. People who die in their sleep may be geniuses. Maybe they found out something in dreams that I never will. Maybe they had a divine moment of REM clarity and said holyshitfucknowigetitwhatthehellwasithinking? Then they’re done. Pop goes the cork. Bright burns the light. Sink the ship. Fries are done. Game Over, Ms. Pac Man. Fireworks. Smoke in the air. The crowd leaves. Holiday over. Laughing all the way to Narnia, Hogwarts, Orange County, Krynn, Hoth, Middle Earth, Oz, Hollywood, and to that place where The Brothers Lionheart went.

I’m quiet now. Maybe I cashed in all my emotional stocks way back in the 80’s and 90’s. I’ve made some bad investments. Now, I just seem to float around, all gossamer-like. Kind of like the one, thin spider web that seems to stick to your face no matter how much you claw at it when you go out in the back to water your lawn late at night. I won’t go away – but I’m not as big as I could’ve been. Just a bit annoying. Making my presence known. Not doing any real damage. Somebody once compared Jimi Hendrix to the thin wire filament of a burning light bulb. The light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. That’s how I feel. Like the slow parts of a good movie. Radioactive waste. I know I’m still young, but you really should’ve known me before. I was crazier. I fucking either wanted to be left alone to scribble away in the darkness, to think, to break things,or wanted to question and tear the world apart. Now, I wish that everything was quiet. Silencio, por favor. I don’t think. And when I do. It passes through my brain like caffeine. All energy dissipates as soon as it’s fleetingly conjured. I smile a little, but always look like I’d be happier somewhere else. I wish I knew where that place was. It’s definitely not in front of a computer screen anymore. It’s definitely not outside. Definitely not inside my head, or out of it. What makes me feel happy now? I’m not depressed or anything. I’m just talking. I know that a lot of my biggest changes have happened in small amounts of time and sometimes the smallest change can happen in a long time. I know that if love and life played by our rules, that we’d all have that pretty, little picture in our head be a reality.

Slow, progressive, Earth-shaking change was cool back in the day. Spending a couple years here or there, doing the same ass things - but making adventures in the meantime...was cool – but, we were a lot younger then. What happens when the amount of time starts stacking? What happens when the amount of decay overpowers the fresh growth?

You get the fuck out of town. Okay. Where, and for how long? Guess you have to find out along the way, eh? Change yourself? Duh. Whatever. Instant change is like ramen noodles. Unsatisfying and shitty.

This might not make sense – but like I care. Keep your snide, little comments to yourself, or go visit a clever BLOG. Say what you want. Just don’t be funny because I’m doing all of the fake, unreal cleverness here.

You know why I liked Bukowski so much? Because he was honest. He was ugly. He was fake. He was the poetic John Merrick. He was sad. Depressed. Brilliant. A pig. He wanted to be left alone, but needed love on his own terms. He went postal before postal was postal – but he went postal on paper. That last sentence makes sense if you slow the fuck down.

Jumanji’s in my heart, but the Hellraiser Cube’s in my pocket. I don’t know what to do.

I really do wish that I could meet Han Solo and have a drink with him. He’d understand and just say a coupla gruff sentences that WOULD MAKE SENSE AND SUM UP THE WHOLE DEAL. Then we’d have more blue drinks served in Tupperware glasses.

After work today, I was at a stoplight and saw the mayor of my city walking across the crosswalk. I said hello to him and he said, Hi Kevynn! That’s nice, even if he is a politician.

I like my cats, my friends, toys, comic books. I also like porn, threatening mean people with violence, and fucked up music. I’m writing about absolutely nothing.

I need to live on a ranch and just make all of this stuff go away. Trust me – I’m not trying to be all complicated and deep. I’m far from that and I don’t want your sympathy. Your condolences are like cheap crack. It strings you out in the end. No caloric value to it. Ample amounts of empathy does not make a healthy diet. I need direction. Something other then TAKE A LEFT AFTER THE STOP SIGN or GET A NEW JOB. I need something…I need it like Dracula does. I’ll know it when I taste it. I used to watch my mother suck the marrow out of chicken bones when I was young. I tried it a couple of times. I remember her chasing around a couple of geese that I thought were pets. I remember her chopping their heads off with a cleaver, Wally. Feathers floating in the air and headless bodies flapping.

People talk too much. They need to just stop for a bit. Most of my days are just one, sticky, continuous conversation ball thrown at my head. Too tired to dodge em’. I just let it roll down my face. Nodnodnod yesyesyes. Bump on the head. Everybody just calm down, shut up, and leave everybody else alone. Walk around, play with your kids, walk the dogs – but, still…shut up. You’re about as original as…ME. Which isn’t much. I’m an ungrateful bastard. I’m the ugliest beautiful person you’ve ever met – but we all deserve to be hunted down like Frankenstein.

He’ll tell you…

Waking up can be a mistake.

What I wanted to reference and write about was on Google and already written by me before, I guess...

Fat Free Milk...... - May 19
Somebody once compared Jimi Hendrix to the thin wire filament of a burning light bulb. The light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. ...
www.blogger.com/feeds/3830677/posts/default - 55k - Cached - Similar pages - Note this

NOX

NOCTISNOCTINOCTEMNOXNOCTENOCTESNOCTIUMNOCTIBUSNOCTESNOCTESNOCTIBUS



Forehead touching keyboard
Typing with eyebrows
My head and heartache
is
this
sentence................

Things you shouldn't tell your significant other unless she reads your blog part 1

The cute little, student farm down the street? The one that my girlfriend and I take our little dog to when he tries to crawl into the cow pens and whines when we take him away? The one also with the chickens, pigs, sheep etc?

I just found out that at the end of the year that the students have to either put down the cows or turn them into steaks.

Yeah, sucks. But maybe sucks more for my girlfriend than for me because I always expect the worst. If you told me that the Thanksgiving dinner I just had was filled with cyanide - I'd burp and ask for seconds.

So.

Should I tell my girlfriend?

Chaos Like Clockwork...

Is it possible for things to get any less dependable, cohesive or predictable?

I think that the only thing I can count on happening is either the worst thing ever or the best thing ever and neither ever happens - so that leaves me with all of the flotsam, jetsam and shmegma in-between.

I don't think I spelled those right, either.

Bullets made of diamond-tipped Melatonin...

Sweet, that the girlfriend can't fall asleep until you get home.

Not sweet, that the girlfriend can't fall asleep until you get home.

Ponce DeLeon = Fountain Of Youth NOT Cortez, Self...

Even though I feel like I'm 92 years old - I'm glad that I look younger than you.

Gay Man Walking...

Took the dog with me to run errands today.

Gay.

Delphi

The
Best
Thing
That
You
Can
Do
Is
Speak
Less

from Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Ten Years Ago I Was Jumping From Moving Cars Onto Front Lawns And Hurting My Ankles...

So I guess my type of activities hasn't changed much even if I have a little? Maybe this means that I've been drinking for too long? BUT, I did used to hurt myself sober also. I used to climb tall things and then fall off or have friends hold me over great heights for no reason. I used to sleep with random psychotic women. I'd always be bandaged up because of doing something impulsive and stupid. Not with the women, I meant. Well...maybe that too, I guess.

So, if I were to ask the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO what he thought about the ME FROM NOW - what would he say? Would the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO be so disappointed that he commits Hari-Kari? Would he vomit all over his horrible Hawaiian shirt? Would he hit me over the head with his Coors bottle?

Or would it all make sense to him? Seriously. If I sat down with the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO, would everything that I’m doing now make sense to him? Most of the same friends, living relatively in the same area, five year relationship with an amazing girl, drinks too much, still thin, still collects comics, talks too much, writes a bunch of crazy and useless crap on the computer, two jobs that both suck…

Would ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO be disappointed?

Nah, I guess not then, huh? There’d definitely be some things that surprise him but overall I don’t think that I’m doing anything today that is totally out of the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO’s future predictions or speculations.

Now…is this a good thing? The fact that I can’t overwhelm or surprise the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO with what I’m currently doing? Yes, I am going skydiving next week – but that doesn’t count. That’s not like living in a farmers hut in New Zealand studying ancient Hobbit Dung. It’s not being a personal assistant to Joel Silver's personal assistant.

So…is this kind of …sad? Does this mean that these last ten years have been a series of very small adventures, joys, misfortunes and accomplishments as opposed to drastic and bold changes of life?

Am I walking like a foot-bound China Man instead of taking Yeti-like strides?

I guess the ME FROM NOW will have to be asked this by the ME FROM TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE. Heh. Who knows? Maybe he won’t even bother to ask me anything. Maybe he won’t care. Maybe he’ll be too successful to spend time questioning past choices. Or maybe he won’t be around to ask, if you get my drift.

Anyway…so if I was TEN YEARS OLD and then asked the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO from back then these same questions…would I have to ask them by shouting into the crotches of my parents?

Just wondering.

Hansel? Gretel? FOOD.

I don't have any children
because I'm SCARED
I would eat them

अह, ब्लॉगर...

अल्वाय्स गिविंग मे शीत।

ई गुएस्स ई शौल्दं'त कारे तू मुच थौघ, हह?

तेरे'एस अ लॉट मोरे इम्पोर्तंत थिंग्स गोइंग ओं इन थे वर्ल्ड थान मय इनाबिल्टी तो ब्रेक योर विल्ड, मुस्तंद-लिके तेंदेंसिएस।

ई'म तिरेड.

Video Killed The Radial Star...

Where do tires go to die?

I bet the tire version of heaven, their hope/ascension into the pearly gates, is to become a tire swing. That's the tire afterlife.

Tire hell is being lit on fire in Sudan and used as cover by a gun-toting 7 year old soldier.

Night is not beautiful and this post isn't either...

It's scary.

I'm thinking that the only people that are up right now are either up to no good or on drugs.

Or both.

These nocturnal miscreants are probably rummaging through my car as you read and/or as I type this or they're fighting with other vampires over spoiled meat or they're breathing heavily into an unwilling recipient's ear or they're chatting with people online and pretending to be younger than they are or they're writing about people that are awake right now and are either up to no good or on drugs or both, nocturnal miscreants that are probably rummaging through cars as you read and as I type this or people fighting with other vampires over steak or people that breathe heavily into an unwilling recipient's ear or people who chat with people online and pretend to be younger than they are or they're writing about puppies that talk like humans.

11. somebody like me

Imagine waking up to a complete carbon-copy version of yourself one morning. No, don't think of Michael Keaton in Multiplicity, you dick - just imagine what it would be like to wake up to a copy of yourself. I don't think I'd like him. Seriously. I think I would find myself annoying and moody - but he might be fun to drink with...

12. fairy dust and shit all these years

?

13. childrens story. A kid named kitty (meow! ) kenny. Blue jumper w/feet!

One instance. A mother and her kid came in to my work. He liked to pretend he was a cat. That was it.

14. no life on earth. Me modern

Ooohhh, i know what this is - this is cool. I've always loved this!

15. hopsing and the little bandits versus the scarlet rhemus

Seriously, I had so much fun with this. i used to draw this as a comic strip. It's only fun to me. Which is why it lasted so long.

6. it was like losing a child at k-mart

I think I was using this as a story to talk about what it feels like to break up with somebody when you're younger.

7. my ma and pa fairy tale beginnings

Ummm...my parent meeting, how romantic it sounded and how it all eventually turned to shit.

8. writer who sells pot. Constantly interrupted

I think this is hilarious. Why this is hilarious and me going through the same thing when I don't even smoke or sell pot is beyong me, but I think this would work well more in a movie than in a story because who want top read about this guy unless you could incorporate the pot smokers story in the story that you write?


9. my world. Starting out in white room story. Perfect earth society. Meet counsel

Sci-fi-ish-sounding-like, eh?


10. bovine millennium miscalculations slaughters and the real reason they’re
celebrating + worktraps?

Either nonsense or written down towards the late part of 1999.

Explanations for the post below that you cant steal...

1. fish tank

Dont remember what this one was about -


2. why I love life now

Dont care what I love about life now, writing about what you hate makes better subject matter

3. buying beer “lookout!” story

Crap, do I really have to do this? One time, me, Tim, Mike, Joel and Tony were trying to "pimp" beer in high school - something that I ALWAYS hated doing, standing around in front of a supermarket or liquor store and trying to get somebody to buy you alcohol. Sometimes it could take 5 minutes, sometimes it could take you an hour. All of this so that you could get wasted and wander around in the bushes or sit on a bench in a public park. Sometimes, girls were involved, but with this group of guys - girls weren't, because if I was hanging out with them that night, then it was nerd/drunk-fest in a park.

Anyway, one of us approached a guy - he seemed REALLY willing, looked like a hybrid homeless guy - not homeless, but looked like it. He took our money and then when he came out he said to follow his truck with the camper shell and meet him down the street because he didnt want to hand over the booze in front of the store. Fair enough. Makes sense.

Thing that sucked was that, so the hybrid homeless guy now has all of our alcohol with him and we're following him. This guy drives not down the street but about five minutes down the street into the back of a wherehouse building. We park behing him and all get out. He starts to act like the handing off of the alcohol is like a drug deal. So, I'm standing there, looking around, feeling nervous and listening to this guy chatter away in his raspy homeless voice that's not homeless and what does that really mean and little did I KNOW that I WOULD be homeless myself and sleeping in parks and staying up all night in 24 hour donut shops about a year later. That's the karmic backlash for being a judgmental prick, I guess.

So, I'm standing there by the hybrid homeless guys truck with the camper shell and notice that the windows have a tint to it but is also taped up in p[laces. There's cracks and gaps in the campewr shell's windows. I SEE A BODY RUSTLING IN THE BACK. Like legs shifting. Did i just see an eye!!!

I freeze up, I mean fucking freeze the fucking up, my blood just grinds to a halt and I can hear the screeching in my head - but I can't say anything because the guys are nervously listening to the hybrid homeless guy talk about cops and what he used to do as a kid and to watch out, etc.

We get the beer and slowly walk back to the car, my mouth wants to shout out to the guy that Buffalo Bill from Silence Of The Lambs is in the back of this guys car and he's probably wearing a GIMP mask, my legs want to run - but I do nothing.

As were all safely back in the car and Mike starts to drive away, I tell the guys what I saw in the back of the truck - right then, the hybrid homeless guy yells, "LOOK OUT!!!"

We all screamed, Mike slammed his foot on the gas and we peeled away.

The rest of the guys told me later that they thought if they looked back that the hybrid homeless man would have a shotgun in his hands -

The image that I conjured up in my head was horrific and emotionally scarring and shall never be repeated again.


4. timid vicki stepmom who covered her teeth when she laughed, her three beautiful children + amy daughter.

Picture her two older sons/my step brothers, who looked more like Arayan Mormons thatn anything else and my hot-ass older step sister and that's all there is to the story.

5. punching butterflies from the sky

This was more rough imagery that I conjured up - that made sense at the time and I guess still makes sense to me even if it doesn't reflect how I feel or the character that I was imagining that was writing this sentence felt (huh?)

Now, I think, it would be more like "Punching Financial Security And People WWiliing To Hand Over Their Comic Book Stores For Me To Own From The Sky"

Have You Ever Seen Such A Helpless Man - Oh No...

1. fish tank
2. why I love life now
3. buying beer “lookout!” story
4. timid vicki stepmom who covered her teeth when she laughed, her three beautiful children + amy daughter.
5. punching butterflies from the sky
6. it was like losing a child at k-mart
7. my ma and pa fairy tale beginnings
8. writer who sells pot. Constantly interrupted
9. my world. Starting out in white room story. Perfect earth society. Meet counsel
10. bovine millennium miscalculations slaughters and the real reason they’re
celebrating + worktraps?
11. somebody like me
12. fairy dust and shit all these years
13. childrens story. A kid named kitty (meow! ) kenny. Blue jumper w/feet!
14. no life on earth. Me modern
15. hopsing and the little bandits versus the scarlet rhemus
16. conformist world
fitting bookshelves
get rid of people/deviants
one corporation makes all from movies to food
17. childhood. Eating fruit and throwing rocks. E strikes back father story
18. freeway anne speed death scene/wind up in hollywood. me being one of the homeless
19. childhood2. Bread incident. Dialogue. Walk down archibald to stater bros.act, beg and sing for a dollar.
20. you know what sucks? A vacuum.
21. “wongs” restaurant aisle runnings. Whip it. The laughing vietnamese chefs in the back kitchen. Unlimited fortune cookies. Dennys give me head speech that got me in trouble when I repeated it. Was he humping her when he would stop by?
22. kid talking to the old nosferatu in chair. Research history. Pick a place!
23. stomping the washer water out w/my father in the play room. First real stories where I felt old enough to hear them, brave or curious enough to ask questions.
24. girl with sudden dreams. Every night foretelling the future until she begins to dread them. But shes too addicted, she cant stop. Blood and water dripping. Very modern? Or flashes of her in a more victorian period? Who cares, blah.
25. organ robot free verse rifts story
26. comic synopsis
27. yr. Post high school story
28. light hole in backyard. Dig. Dig.
29. mexican pizza. Chicken gordita.
30. it seems that everybodys a mother a father or a lover now except me.
31. hothouse? Whats that? Anyway…waking up in older ladys bed
32. evil kevynn
33. loves his or her cat/dog so much that they transfer(science, devil pact?) its mind into a humans? Thats pretty stupid.
34. lost number idea? Horror. Bring back dead. Look at all the classical facets of old legends and horror.
35. my version of the trench coat mafia shit. One guy ambushes one shooter. Gets guns and bombs, prowls the halls in search of others or other shooter
36. toady. About a boy with amphibious desires. No, I really meant write about today.
37. remeber when one throws a pebble into a stream that the flow of the river………
38. damians family/sis/big daddy/mean bro/dogs/nintendo
39. guy getting married to or very serious girl introduces her to his friends or best friend and finds out that they’ve gone out b4. His x gal friend, dougherty stories. ‘ that was her? ‘ ‘ why didnt you tell me? ‘
40. guy/gal
41. the most selfish thing I did today was whine in front of a walking and whistling one-armed man.
42. locked in bar…….
43. wood grain punishment.
44. man refused access to next world because he aws an organ donor-stopped at medieval midway half-realm9 hells prison.)
45. oc
46. the 23rd psalm robinson crusoe/23 people/all different/different times

Click To Play

On the fourth anniversary of the Iraq invasion, Alive in Baghdad brings you an assortment of Arabs and Iraqis speaking about life in Iraq and some thoughts they have for Americans and the world.

This is only a small slice of opinion about the war and the ongoing conflict in Iraq. For other opinions continue to watch the blog section of Alive in Baghdad.

As the fourth anniversary passes without a foreseeable end to the ongoing conflict in Iraq, please consider making a small donation to continue our work, and enabling our Iraqi correspondents to continue producing regular news about life in Baghdad.

You can also check out these Iraqi bloggers for a wide range of opinion on events in Iraq:

Treasure of Baghdad

Iraq the Model

Healing Iraq

Baghdad Burning

Tell Me a Secret

Baghdad Treasure will also be publishing a special anniversary blog entry, collecting thoughts and opinions from many Iraqi bloggers about the war in Iraq on its 4th anniversary. We'll post a direct link as soon as he's finished it!

The Birds And The Bees...

Avian Bird Flu.
Colony Collapse Disorder.

The end of the human race.

Sex is to blame.

Bizarro House Chores...

Filling up the sink with water and putting the dirty dishes in it does not mean that you're going to do the dishes before the girlfriend gets home. It means that you are lazy and the girlfriend will give an exasperated sigh and mentally add that on her "Reason number 453 why I should've picked (fill in the name of some hunky craphead) list.

Also, today I went for a walk with Chico, the tiny dog who looks like he's wearing a brown jogging suit and we visited the pigs, cows and sheep down by the local college. I've found out that Chico could care less about pigs, likes to pee repeatedly in front of the sheep and is in love with cows. He tried repeatedly to make friends with the cows and tried to get in their pen-thingys. He whined constantly, but only for the cows. I can't think of anything funny to say about this because whatever I say will probably have to do with dog-on-cow sex and that's just gross.

Writing

On pages 9 and 10 of his book Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction, Vonnegut listed eight rules for writing a short story:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

So it Goes...