what ever

"they said if i ever tried to save you, they'd kill me."
"you and your fucking excuses."

a mind-devouring vortex is a terrible thing to waste

today was the first day that i really noticed Autumn was here.
actually here.
really real, full-on here.
'you don't need mittens yet but make sure you dig them out and keep them close because soon baby, soooon' here.
anyway, i was enjoying Autumn as i took a stroll down the block to the Chilled Beverage Retailer when i noticed a familiar figure cutting through the park in my direction. it was our local "spare change enthusiast" the Shit Witch. (named so because one of the boys allegedly saw her squatting in Dirty No-Tooth Alley relieving herself as such. and i believe him.)
when i saw her heading my way i knew exactly what would happen. she would ask for change. i'd say no. she'd follow and continue asking for change until i either raised my vioce or simply outran her (because she only has short, scabby little legs).
i knew this would happen because i've seen it before.
many many times.
she was absolutely merciless in her quest for coin.
i've seen her run across a busy street to harass a half-dozen angry bikers for change.
ravenous for quarters. dimes. nickels.
i've seen her eat dirty pennies. (not really, but c'mon.)
i could hear her rabid little footsteps trotting up alongside me.
any second now. pop the question baby.
i totally don't even notice you vulturing me.
go on, strike. do what you do.
then snap!
i stopped, turned on my heel, looked right in her face and said "hey! do you got any change?!"
she froze, mouth hanging open, does not compute.
and i swear to you i could pinpoint the exact second her strange little mind got sucked into the Vortex.
she was not ready.
i just turned her Quiet One-Way Street of a universe into the Endless Rush Hour Interchange of Eternity.
she's probably still standing there.
let's go dancing.

The Frightened Wizard

fade in
scene one, act one
a wooded park-like area

The Frightened*1 Wizard is lurking quietly*2 through a boggy stretch of woods. He is wearing traditional*3 wizard robes that look a little worse for wear and is carrying a large scepter. The sky is grey and leaves are falling from trees*4. A fine blanket of mist crawls along the forest floor. Suddenly he is startled by a nearby*5 noise, and quickly*6 moves in to investigate. He crouches behind the twisted roots of a fallen tree and peers*7 in the direction of the noise, spotting a Modern Person*8 walking their dog. "...What manner of beast*9..?, the Wizard mutters to himself. As he says this the dog kind of glances in his direction, causing him to sidestep*10 farther behind the roots to avoid detection. Just then there is another different, louder noise approaching from the Wizard's left*11. The noise is apparently*12 coming from the tires of the two bicycles*13 speeding by on the gravel road. The Wizard stands up, jumps out from behind the roots, points*14 at the passing cyclists and hisses*15 loudly. He then turns and flees*16, returning to the entrance of his cave*17. Once inside he lights a small torch*18 and holds it to a nearby wall, revaling a*19 carving*20 that he begins loudly*21 berating. "Curse you Kynackk*22! Betrayer! Betrayer!"

fade out
title sequence
...And so begins...
The Tale of the Frightened Wizard
---------------

*1 - not so much 'timid' frightened, more of a 'panicky/exciteable' frightened.
*2 - is that redundant? lurking is assumed to be quiet, correct?
*3 - long and dark, some runes and symbols sewn in, a cap with long twisty wizard horns.
*4 - indicating autumn.
*5 - or not. being a wizard he probably has the ability to hear things unheard by others, acutely tuned in to the cacophonous drone of several planes of existence.
*6 - he is suprisingly nimble for a man of his (undiscernable) age, who is also wearing heavy robes.
*7 - when he peers there is a close-up of his eyes, old wizard eyes, eyes that have seen too much, too many lost souls, forever screaming. he also has very thick and bushy wizard eyebrows. and a unibrow.
*8 - i say 'Modern' because it is assumed that the wizard is ancient, from another time or a different realm altogether.
*9 - he's probably never seen a dog before for some reason.
*10 - he is already crouching very low to the ground, making this look awkward.
*11 - your right.
*12 - obviously.
*13 - if he's never seen a dog there's no way he's ever seen bicycles. or the ridiculous clothing that many bicycle enthusiasts wear, with their zany colors and way too tight around the crotch spandex shorts. "but they make you go faster." they do not. grow up. you look like fools.
*14 - with his wrinkly wizard hand, large rings on his fingers and sharp long nails.
*15 - a loud disapproving hiss, like that of an ill-tempered cobra or fighting cats.
*16 - again, suprisingly nimble.
*17 - which is quite small. he has to get down and crawl to enter, which might explain the tattered appearance of his probably once majestic robes.
*18 - apparently he does not have the ability to make the end portion of his sceptre glow, like some wizards in movies do. this adds a sense of realism to the scene.
*19 - probably ancient.
*20 - of a strange creature that looks like a human fetus with the head of a rooster, wearing a crown burning snakes.
*21 - and emotionally.
*22 - he phrases the name in a manner similar to the way a Klingon might.

a heart in my hole

i wake up. i wake up for the second time today and i'm late but it doesn't matter and i don't care. the sun sends it's most powerful and well-trained rays screaming through space, the atmosphere, my window to deliver a hot and blinding reverse spin kick directly to my jaw, knocking me off my drool-stained pillow and i welcome it.

in the shower i transform the tiniest piece of soap into huge, undulating blankets of lather, because this is my Special Ability, and i'm listening to Triumph because that's the kind of day i'm going to have.

i spit on pigeons from my balcony in-between heaping spoonfulls of my second bowl of Awesome Flakes, surveying my little slice of urbania, my Bastion of Ignorance.

then i part the elevator doors, like Moses halving a salty ham with only his mind, and i run headfirst into the rabble, weaving through the crowds because i know exactly where i'm going and they're not important to my plan. duck and turn. jump the curb. power roll to safety. it's exhausting but it doesn't matter because there's a line up for coffee and that's A-OK because it's always worth the wait because coffee is sexy and real and i'll drink it until my insides hurt because a train ain't gonna move without coal.

and on the streets i have to constantly remind myself to slow down because my velocity today is incredible and i don't want to knock anyone over and i can't believe she just cut me off. but i forgive her because she's obviously the reason astronauts created blue jeans, and i've decided, just this second, as a tribute to her, that i'm never going to work again, because she would have wanted it that way maybe. and her name is probably Raquel and she probably loves orange candles and writes experimental poetry about a lady detective with a lazy eye because that's symbolic to her somehow. she will get home and never forgive herself for not turning around, falling into my arms and purring like a kitten.

and as i walk past the junior high school and see the kids running and laughing i almost envy their youth and freedom and millions of chioces, until one of them tries to sell me a "slightly used" cellphone and i laugh because in my day kids only sold hash and Nirvana bootlegs and that was enough because we Owned the World and we Changed Everything and we tried to Burn it All Down before they could take it but we were too late, which doesn't really matter because we've still got that feeling and we can deny everything and who the hell are you.

my coffee is cold now but i know it still has the power to fill me with a million exploding stars, sending me right over the edge, which is exactly where i want to be, because two feet on the ground is one too many.

updated list of bad combonations

brushing your teeth and drinking orange juice
root beer and BBQ chips (try it, it's gross)
handcuffs and deep sea diving
psychedelic mushrooms and job interviews
love making and the musical stylings of Alvin and The Chipmunks
irritable, drunken hunters and blindfolds
Daryl and spores
your girlfriend and me and leather (bad for you, not me)
hangovers and running from a band of renegade assassins
Ron and 'Scatman'
papercuts and some guy who insists on stuffing fire ants inside your papercuts with a pair of vinegar and Jalapeno laced tweezers (also he's been drinking a lot of coffee so his hands are real shakey)
being naked and falling off your bike
being naked and getting on a bike in the first place
being naked and surrounded by falling bikers
a tall, cool glass of milk and the glands of a poisonous jungle snake
Jagermeister and logic, reasonable thought, the law, etc.
me and spontaneous hitchhiking
Star Jones and television
misinformed teens and prescription cough syrup
Graeme and condemned old hospitals (possibly haunted)
pride and prejudice
Garfeild and Mondays (weak)
my kitchen counter and poop
boredom and the internet

big questions

my apologies for not upkeeping my little slice of the cyberweb.
i have been terribly busy.
not with any sort of actual or "tangible" duties, but with more pressing, urgent and universal concerns.
i've been mulling over the Big Questions, the ones that sometimes threaten to tumble from the sky and crush us all in a messy orgy of cartilage and misguided spirituality.
these are the questions that drive us.
that make us human.
the answers are elusive, timeless.
or silly and unimportant.
whichever.

why are my weekends always plagued by rain?
what is culture, really?
why does it take my shower water so long to heat up?
what's that weird popping sound that comes from my shoulder whenever i stretch?
why am i even stretching in the first place?
who am i trying to impress?
are there alternate realities currently existing alongside our own?
for real?
am i the only one who wonders what happened to "Weird Al" Yankovich?
why is that?
why do you guys suck so much?
why can't pimping be easy?
do you eat the red ones last?
bullshit.
why can't we ever, ever win?
who's that coming, from somewhere up in the sky?
moving fast and bright as a firefly?
just when you think the trouble's gonna pounce,
who's gonna be there when it really counts?
am i supposed to have hair there?
who was the guy who played the 'bad army guy' in Short Circut?
war. huh. good god. what is it good for?
remember that party?
with the home brew?
no?
was that someone else?
who?
who will bathe my soul in the the waters of healing light?
who is willing to lather and scrub, i mean really scrub, maybe with one of those puffy bath...things.., you know, chicks use them, ...those things?
what are they called?
fuck it.
what are you called?
can i answer a question with a question?
why not?
who cares?
what time?
how much?
again?
no?

turfed

my failing was in trying to make it look casual.
had i given it my all, ran completely full-on/full-tilt, as if being chased by angry dogs or a large gorilla capable of carrying angry dogs while maintaining a threatening speed, i might have cleared that hedge.
but no. i had to make it look casual.
uplanned. the kind of thing i do a thousand times a day, mechanically, while drinking coffee and scanning the crossword.
i didn't even go for a running start.
just a quick left-right-left-launch.
and for a few wonderful seconds, i was good.
i was soaring. i was an Albatross.
my aerial veiw gave me a better sense of scope, leading me to realize i had greatly misjudged the girth of the hedge. before i could recalculate, my legs became ensnarled in the tangly wooden fingers of my obstacle, slowing their momentum. my upper body, however, continued at full speed, causing a "hinge" effect that hurtled my head into the ground with suprising force.
damn you physics.
damn you gravity.
damn you both and your continuing defiance of my brilliant plans.