Showing posts from May, 2004


I could feel infinite creation peering over my shoulder.
The potatoes steamed in the sun at my feet.
For a second the golf club’s dark silhouette stained the clear blue sky, then an after image as I swung mightily, powered by teen muscles and a manly grunt.
Time slowed into Zeno’s paradox.
Eons seemed to pass, the earth slowly ground away at its orbit, lumbering, spinning, hurtling through space.
The edge of the driver met the soft skin of the potatoes.
There are certain discoveries one makes in life that simply can’t be fathomed until they are experienced, like the lightening storm created by a fork in a microwave, or a broken arm from jumping off the roof with a bedspread as parachute.
I had never played golf or roasted potatoes.
A bubbling cauldron of carbohydrates, this devil’s brew gushed straight into my fresh young face, scalding my investigative innocence with a burning epiphany.
Hot potato.


The puppy was suffering from an impacted anus so my father picked it up, put the puppy’s head in his mouth, and blew.


The older I get, the more casual I am with fire.
I squirt copious amounts of lighter fluid on the grill, unleashing roaring balls of flame that lick hungrily at the neighbor’s carport. I’ll pick up a crackling log and swing it all around, clumsily writing my name in the air. I take the batteries out of the smoke alarm and leave paper grocery bags on the stove.


I found my mom crying down by the river.
There are certain laws in the universe, like stuff hurts and things suck.
Grade school teachers don’t pee, boys don’t hold hands, and my mom doesn’t cry down by the river


I don't smoke cigarettes because they make me look too grown-up and attractive but I sure miss pop-out cigarette lighters in automobiles.


Sure I’ve had my problems and made some mistakes and no, it was not a meth lab, I was camping---but there eventually comes a time when you have to take one final honest look at yourself and feel even worse.


One of the main reasons we wear pants is to keep skidmarks off the furniture. We start off naked in cribs then waddle around with a pacifier in our mouth and diaper around our ankles. We go through our teens visiting each other’s cribs, going to parties with pacifiers in our mouths and our pants around our knees, until they drop as low as they can go. Then we start growing up, an ascension takes place: our pants rise up, climbing higher and higher the older we get until at last in old age we strangle on the waistband.


I’m sitting in my Hover-Round at the edge of the Grand Canyon watching the sunset and reflecting on how badly I have fucked up my life.
So I’d like to be Mike.
He’s everything I’m not. Even his name his spelled different.
And he’s still young enough to fuck up his life so it’s not hopeless.
He’s healthy, intelligent, and very good-looking.
I hate him.
Which just proves how wonderful he is.
His brain holds all sorts of arcane stuff from to pooter programming to Chaos Magick to Jean Genet. Of all the people I know and (I know almost everyone) Mike intrigues me, challenges me, and mocks me. He invigorates me.
He laughs at my jokes.
I highly recommend you try Mike out as a friend.
You won’t be disappointed unless he won’t fuck you.
I can tell Mike anything and he won’t call the cops.


I can dislocate my entire body and squirt through a keyhole, provided the keyhole is large enough to accommodate my squirting body.
I string the house with barbed wire and remove all the lightbulbs.
My secret swimming strokes also were used for creating four-dimensional snow angels, or more precisely, snow demons.
I can write underwater and not get the paper wet.
Ninjas had to live off the land and be survivalist outdoorsmen, so sometimes I sleep with the window open.
Map maker—I drop breadcrumbs wherever I go.
Anti-thirst and anti-pee pills—ninjas distrust water—anything obvious and free
(You can tell poisoned water by how your reflection looks.)
I get ready to see in the dark by sitting in a closet for 24 hours before the mission.
I use WD40 for squeaky hinges—or pee on them.
Pour salt on sleeping person’s forehead; fakers will react thinking they’re being poisoned; real sleepers won’t.
Use dirt near restrooms for making gunpowder.
I could tie you up so that any attempt to escape w…


I thought of something so intense I would never have to think of anything again but I forgot what it was.


Before I was born I would sneak out of my mother’s womb and float into the dark woods behind our house. I swam through the pungent mud and rolled in the overgrown grass.
Later, years after I’d fallen out of her into my own life, I would wait until everyone was asleep, sling a tiny scrap of what I thought looked like a loincloth, and dangle on tree branches out in the dark woods behind our house.
I wasn’t Tarzan.
He always appeared too beefy to be swinging around on stuff.
I was a sinewy, jungle panther boy.
One night I as hung in the throes of death after single-handedly saving the entire Amazon Mountains from marauding Eskimos, my loins began to tingle. The sleek muscles that entwined my body could barely ripple, soaked with fatigue. But I had saved my people; I could ascend to the gods in peace.
The loincloth barely clung to my wiry hips, and I grew aware of my nakedness. Cool air flicked at my nipples. A heartrending ache began to build within me, an agonizingly sweet pain that…


It was a cold murky doom cookie day, full of muck and mire,the kind of day only a Jabberwock would like if they existed.
They don’t but the day is still there.
I don’t have a fireplace so I curled up in front of the sink.
I was soon mesmerized by a cupboard because I also don’t have a television.
It doesn’t bother me not having a fireplace, but with no TV I have to talk to people, like my friends.
Especially friends.
What is a friend? A friend is someone still there after you puke.
Friendships would be easier if they didn’t require both of us.
And all the time saved could be used for studying string theory and paranormal research.
If I had a skateboard I would be skanking a goofy foot pickle stand on the flippy flop peak tube if you know what I mean, because I don’t.
So I drink water.
To whoever invented water, I say: yeah!
Fire good but water better.
Sure I’m wandering, but in just a minute I’m going to swim up my stream of consciousness and spawn in the point pool.
Which is this…