Saturday, November 17, 2012

American Dark Side Horror Story

It starts out looking like one of those cute YouTube videos of an adorable creature being fed something, most likely a sweet fruit, and eating said sweet fruit with a gluttonous gusto normally only seen in humans. In this case, we have a semi-attractive (and busty, of course) blonde zookeeper cradling a tortoise in her left arm. She is telling the audience that we’re going to see if the tortoise would like a star fruit. She adds some scientific dialogue that sounds believable about how we’re not sure if this particular tortoise will eat a star fruit. You see, this is a rare tortoise that because of blah, blah, geography/science-ey stuff, we haven’t had a chance to observe yet.

So, she picks up the star fruit with her right hand, & offers it to the tortoise. It slowly, but surely, strains its neck a bit to take a bite. “He’s eating it!” she exclaims. Then with a comically uncharacteristic swiftness, it takes a second bite. She laughs with the sort of “Aww, isn’t it cute. As a human, these clearly inferior creatures amuse me” disrespectful patronizing bullshit fucking tone that all of the animals secretly hate. Catching her breath with a big smile she proclaims “I think he likes it!” Again with the mocking & the condescending. The juice of the fruit runs down her fingers, hand, & wrist. The tortoise slowly strains its neck a bit further, and takes a 3rd bite, which finishes the fruit, her index finger, her thumb, and the part of her hand that comes with the digits. She screams, holding up her gushing right arm & dropping the tortoise with her left. As she does, we see the front claw of the tortoise dig its nails into her flesh. It is clutching her collarbone. As she screams and bleeds, the other claw does the same: sinking its sharp reptilian nails into her skin. Now it has her collarbones gripped like handlebars. Now its rear claws do the same sinking into her ribcage. Keep thinking handlebars. As she falls to the ground, consumed with horror, the turtle takes a bite out of her neck. The sound is a wet crunch, like a child chomping on a celery stick. She inhales, but as much blood as air is pulled into her gaping esophagus. Exhaling, the sound is equal parts death rattle & bong hit. The tortoise finishes the neck. The blood runs fast, you can hear it like a running brook. It removes its claws, and starts to crawl away. As it walks past the head, it turns around, & takes a bite out of the top of her skull: hair & all. This comes with a sound effect that really needs to stand out to reflect just how much effortless force the sharp beak of the tortoise possesses. Then it reaches its head in & takes a squishy bite of brain that sounds like a slurp. Fade out: the head is gone & the tortoise is taking a bite out of her shoulder, zoo uniform & all. Fade out all that is left is the sole & the tip of one zoo-issued boot, with the tip of the bloody foot as well. The tortoise eats the thick heal of the boot’s sole, chomping its way towards the last bit of flesh as the camera fades.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Heaven, Hell, etc.

I'll be damned, & I have been. These damn long gone days. Days alone, fruitless as a dried up vine, & they're all mine. Prolonged sunshine before the solstice. Damn long days. If hell is fire and the absence of god, then you know it must be bright, & lonely. So I guess I've been damned, but with bird chirps & neighbors. Damned with a roof & a thermostat. Damned without shade from the tree that they murdered. Damned to the season of spring. Damn these long days.

So, is this hell? It could be heaven for all I know. Everything's relative in this dimension, just ask Albert. Although even Einstein only had a theory. Here it seems that heaven is fleeting and hell holds steady. It has its moments. It also has its eternities. Like loneliness. In prison they have "solitary confinement", for the people who need to be put in a prison within a prison. Here outside the cells and the walls and the barbed wire, solitude can confine as well. Without love the world is a cell. Home alone in hell.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Bottle o' Wine

I just got back from a drive, a drive without a destination, just four wheels and a radio station. I was hungry & thirsty, but I couldn't pull over until the show was over. I was busy falling in love with Rickie Lee Jones.

It was a lonely night. No night is a lonelier night than a lonely Saturday night. So I decided to use my empty stomach and thirst to my advantage, & drink a bottle of wine, for a buzz that strong & pure. It's not like I drink to solve my problems, I just drink, and sometimes the problems just happen to be along for the ride. Mmm.. this wine is dark & dry, just like my sense of humor. I don't drink a lot of wine, & I don't exactly know why. It's a great buzz, a body buzz, a buzz that hugs you when it says hello & holds you close like a lover or a touchy-feely friend that you don't see often enough. The wine is in my big Bugs Bunny coffee cup, which is white on the inside & stained by black coffee with whiskey & red wine with more red wine.

So I'm about to the bottom of my 2nd cup. I think I'll top it off. Once the bottle is done, my night will begin. The plan is for my shoes to get reacquainted with the road. There are taverns within walking distance, and from there, cabs to call. Going out solo is a fork in an unknown road. You might run into someone you know (good thing) or you might run into someone you know (bad thing). You might turn strangers into friends, or strangers might turn themselves into people you wish were still strangers. Strange is a two-way street. You're never more alone than when you're alone in a crowd.

Well it's been awhile since I uncorked this bottle, & the last of it is in the cup. Bottoms up! Well, in a way: I'm a drinker, not a slammer. A marathon man. On my first stop tonight, I'll order something white & boozy & bubbly: like me! Perhaps a vodka press or a gin & sweet. Oh yeah, & maybe I should eat something. Or hit the titty bar. A man has appetites.

"Stay, & help me to end the day. And if you don't mind, we'll break a bottle of wine. Stick around, & maybe we'll put one down. 'Cause I'd like to find what lies behind those eyes." - Pink Floyd

Friday, April 27, 2012

Writer's block? I guess if you're blocked, then you're not much of a writer, at least not at the time. If you wanna write, then think & start typing. "When you hafta shoot: shoot, don't talk." - Tuco  

I used to work with a lot of well-meaning dumb-fucks. Not horrible people, just annoying, and expendable. The kind that remind you how much this planet needs a plague. Now I may come across as an angry bastard, because I am, but I'm not an idiotic shit-storm of halitosis either. I remember this one walking fossil who used to dismiss rap music by claiming that he could do that, as if it's just some dude talking. As if anyone wanted to listen to this bass ackward cracker under any circumstance. Gawd.. why don't people just die?

So if I don't have anything good to say, should I say nothing at all? Maybe those seemingly peaceful monks who take those vows of silence are secretly rage-filled fans of Slayer.

Oh man, I do hate people, but there's lots of things that I love. I love my family & my cat & my girlfriend & my friends. I love chicken, and television. And I fuckin' love music! And I fuckin' love fucking my girlfriend!! I love baseball. Oh, & oh hells yes, I love sleep. Sleepy sleeps. Sometimes when I sleep I stop breathing, & someday I"m gonna stop breathing altogether & sleep forever. And I'm gonna love that more than anything.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012


  • alright I'll riff for ya
  • spill it
  • as you kill it
  • you're never gonna fill it
  • the void
  • paranoid
  • anxiety
  • separation from society
  • who claimed your rights?
  • bought your propriety?
    • claimed a stake
    • through your hear
    • t
    • sold your art
    • as chicken feed
    • to the sheep that breed
    • the virus
    • inside us
    • that we are
    • a scar
    • on the smooth beauty
    • of what could be
    • but isn't
    • & you know what rhymes with "isn't"?
    • nothing
    • so die
    • useless
    • irrelevent
    • self-important
      • scum
      • you're cum
      • that should've been swallowed
      • hollow
      • be your name
      • overflowing
      • be your shame
      • your game
      • is over
      • bend over
      • you're fucked
      • you suck
      • die
      • die
      • die

Friday, March 30, 2012

Shit Fuck Death

Ahahaha.. shit, fuck, death.. this came to me as I sat and contemplated life. Complicated strife? Constipated knife? ahahaha

I was sitting/shitting here thinking/stinking about how fucking clever I am. Life has three stages: the evolution of shit from "in your pants" to "in the toilet", the evolution of fucking yourself to fucking other people, and finally the devolving back into the nitrogen cycle: becoming both shit and cum all at once, rotting into fertilizer and food. Well, not really, since humans have made it their mission to be as worthless in death as they are destructive in life. Assholes to ashes, detritus to dust. Heaven forbid the trematode should feed the earthworm. Too self-important to rot, unworthy of mummification; the modern human fills cemeteries just to prove that they didn't stop with strip-malls, suburbs, and golf courses. "Drop the bomb, destroy them all!" - Colonel Kurtz

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The winter arrives fasionably late

finally the snow is here
finally the bright darkness of winter
finally the clouds silence the nagging dawn

finally the bears can dream

finally the fertility succumbs to freeze
finally the tepid sunshine is quarantined

finally the dying are dead
finally the ice protects the darkened depths
finally the rough paths are smoothed with danger

Friday, January 27, 2012

Shape shifters & the nitrogen cycle

Drink a lot of little water & you’ll see farther than you’ve ever seen. Focus on the furry animals that don’t exist. They are sentient, self aware, lovable and dangerous. Their dark coats tinged with the white of wisdom & the grey of suffering. Pet them & see if you can sense whether they’re purring or growling. You’ll soon find out. You’ll be food at the bottom or feasting from the top. Fuck the food chain you’ve cast off your familiar shackles. You’re gonna shift shapes either way. Once they bite they can taste your essence. They drink the familiar & devour the food. You get licked & sucked & brought to life or chewed & swallowed & reincarnated as whatever the shit you are might instill into life. It all depends on whether you’re riding your bike with the karmic wheels sailing off the ramp or if you’re just riding the nitrogen cycle & never leaving the dirt.

Reptiles don't need knives to be born

Hi there, fresh & clean outta the hot shower. Comin' atchya live from SheBaltimore, SheBoogie, SheVegas, SheBoomBoomBoomBoom. Just sitting here wondering about my relationship with the illusion of the universe. Didn't ask to exist but indeed I do I'm screwed. Hangin' by a thread from a spider-web, trapped & trying to avoid getting spun up, poisoned, paralyzed & sucked dry. Feel free to be fucked. Freewill? If it existed she would've taken the pill instead of spilling me out of her crotch using my first breath to scream, smelling the stench, getting my first glimpse of the sharp knives of life as the scalpel cut the cord. Life as a reptilian psuedo-mammal sucks from the get-go. I would have been much better suited to the external egg instead of the living incubator. It's actually easier nestled in the nest, warm within a cold hard shell; then it is to be sloshed around in the womb as she walks around and talks and gets fucked.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Single guys & dolls

This is something I wrote for a think-tank that I belonged to. It's my thoughts on a single female friend of a friend, and the single life in general, & single chicks in general.

Certain chicks & the dicks they love.. I can't resist stickin' my spoon into that thick bowl o'chowder.  It's interesting how women & men respond differently to the scent of desperation.  To men it smells like steaks on the grill, to women it smells like rotting hamburger.  Here’s my take on that.  Women tend to view themselves with inappropriately low self-esteem, & therefore think that any guy who comes on to “someone like me” must have something wrong with him.  Men, on the other hand, tend to have an inflated sense of self-esteem.  That leads them to be attracted to any woman that somehow “really gets how awesome I am”.

This setup works very well for predatory men, & of course, not so well for desperate women.  In the case of _____’s friend, it sounds like she’s also into superficialities, which makes her particularly vulnerable to douche-bag dudes, most of whom make sure to present themselves as GQ as possible.  [And no, I’m not just saying that because I possess, shall we say, “non-traditional good looks”. Lot’s of guys who have nice clothes, and don’t have beer-buddhas, are great people.]

There is one explanation as to why her friend has had nothing more than a string of bad relationships that no one has mentioned yet: it’s possible that she’s just lame.  As a “good guy” who’s single, let me tell you: if you think Nickelback rocks & Dane Cook is funny, there’s no way in hell I’m getting into a serious relationship with you.  There are legions of single women out there that have horrible tastes in everything & no real hobbies or interests.  Of course, there are plenty of guys out there who fit that description as well.  They’re pretty much the same type of playa’s your friend’s been fucking.