the exhausting chronicles of Sir Henry Oglepants

furlough 2011 sheeeeeit

2011-03-28T16:46:00.000-07:00

A conversation with Art

2011-03-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

Me: If you could travel back in time would you give yourself a blowjob? Let's say you travelled back in time and met the you from the past. Would you blow yourself and would you think of yourself as gay after?
Me: I mean it would be you, not another guy. It would be like masturbating except you know, you have a cock in your mouth even though it's your own...
Me: I'm just saying, could you lay back and enjoy a blowjob from the future you, knowing full and well that at a future date you would have to travel back in time and suck off a guy even though that guy is yourself, you know, to complete the time circuit...
Me: I don't think that makes you gay.
Art: You have a time machine and you went back in time and gave yourself a blowjob? That's a waste of a time machine dude.

things I say to Porter 28 mar 2011

2011-03-28T14:55:00.000-07:00

I love you. Do you love me?

Coming soon, A LittlePeople storyline involving the whole cast of characters:

Crazy White Girl aka CW

Langston Hughes future Aeronautic Engineer whose only desire is to go to school

Fireman Bob and his cat Blisters

Mario Lopez the lovable hispanic school bus driver

a conversation with porter

2010-06-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

porter: you know what would be super fun???

me: what's that porter?

porter: if you just put me in the closet in the basement, closed the door and went upstairs and took a nap.

me: that would be really weird, and i think child abuse. why would you want me to do that?

porter: we can call it porter time and don't worry no one would need to know, especially mom. this could be our little secret.

me: i don't know about this. (placing baby in closet)

porter: well i do. now remember to leave me in here for at least the next three hours and what ever you do, don't open the door. do you remember the scene in poltergeist at the end, after the clown, the mom runs into the children's room and they are being sucked into that vortex that looks exactly like a woman's vagina?

me: i do

porter: so do i and i've never seen the movie. get it now?

me: thanks porter, good looking out and i owe you one. (closing door and going upstairs to take nap)

2010-04-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

-Ghost Raper-

We find our intrepid warrior outside of a nondescript apartment building.

Narrator: We're here in West Hollywood to investigate several strange occurrences that have happened here at the residence of Jimmy Dean and his roommate Bob Evans (names have been changed to protect identities) and try to ascertain if these events, as the two roommates suspect, are paranormal activity. I've brought with me my cameraman George-lucas to record any visual spectral phenomenon as well as any auditory evidence that may or may not occur, as well as the events that transpire as a result. I'll have to spend one night at this haunted house in an attempt to capture the appiration on film and then try to cornhole the poltergeist. Let's go!

19-apr-2010

2010-04-18T18:24:00.000-07:00

Brian Schultz is still in if you are.

19-apr-2010

2010-04-18T18:22:00.000-07:00

Brian Schultz wants to know: What's in your backpack?

19-apr-2010

2010-04-18T18:18:00.000-07:00

Brian Schultz is a small vibrating egg.

06 feb 2010

2010-02-06T11:08:00.000-08:00

-The Misanthropes- a short story

You know, at some point you take a step back and take a look at your life and your friends and think, is this the best I can do? I mean these people are assholes. -Mister Sprinkles

The reviews of 2009 are in...

2010-01-04T23:19:00.000-08:00

I was spellbound from the first to the thirty-first. Wait, did I say spellbound? I meant hell bound.

-WTF-AM 2012 Nome, AK

It was like being mind fisted by the awesome monster!

-The Poughkeepsie Tribute

Can't wait for the sequel!

- The Helsinki Accord

2010-01-02T15:14:00.001-08:00

16th Aug 2003

2009-11-04T19:23:00.000-08:00

(In a hostel trying to charge my phone in an outlet in the communal kitchen)

This phone it taking forever to charge and I am so damn sleepy, fuck it all.
What am I thinking about right now? Masters and Johnson and Johnson. JFKFC. Back and to the left.

When I was visiting the guys I found this little sparrow on the sidewalk on his back desperately trying to right itself, like some feathery little turtle on his back. I sat down in front of him. I picked him up and Huffy and Colin and our little bird, Petey, who was dying, dying in my hands and we started walking home and I tried to find a nice quiet spot where I could drop him and he could die. A place he could die a peaceful death. A little place called Aspen where the beer flows like wine. Fuck it. I can't stay up. I'd make a lousy apostle. If you want to find out if someone is looking at you try yawning and then and only then if they yawn, you'll know and you can move on. So have you every hit your girlfriend? Say you're just sitting there and then you know, kerchow!

23 August 2009

2009-08-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

A Conversation with Liz

Last week (we went to Target and then the grocery store)
In the car on the way to the grocery store

Me: I actually have a pretty nice little Saturday with misses planned. We're going to the Home Depot buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring stuff like that. Maybe Bed Bath and Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Liz: You know that's you now, right? Do you want to hold my purse? You know, because your balls are in there.

Me: Ha ha, that's pretty funny. I'll fucking kill you.

19 nov 2008

2009-08-10T09:35:00.000-07:00

The rehearsal dinner, I-Bar afterwards. We had people over for a pizza dinner on Thursday. Liz was absolutely lit, feeling up my friends, making out with others.
The day of, Colin made me a wedding mix. Kevin drove and brought me coffee. TGI Fridays with pre-game drinks.

Dirty Sanchezes, Boston Steamers, and Cincinnati Bow ties.

Fred and Tom, everything going so smooth, as glass.

Sea Breezes and Alabama Slamas.

Holding hands and the reception. A good Catholic Whiskey. Nate and Laura, Angela, Dave and Mendy, Kevin and Jenny. Dancing with Audrey, Emma and Martin. Gold Digger and the Regulators. Oh no.

Blow Jobs and Buttery Nipples.

The after party in Dave and Mendy's room. Liz being amazing.

Purple Turnips and Rhode Island Scholars.

Alex giving a great best man speech. Crazy? I was crazy once. Almost crying. The honeymoon going good so far. Model face, Monkey face. Margaritas. This is the rest of my life welcome to it. I used to write this as a sort of sad little threat but right now, right in this moment I'm happy. I want this, I want this life.

Mai Thais and Tequila Sunrises.

Lemon Drops and Grasshoppers.

Rainbows, puppy dogs and sunshine.

A wife, kids, a family.

In that little room off to the side in the church. I just want to thank you guys What time is it? Game time Oorah.

All of you are my all-star team, let me be worthy of this.

Quitter

2009-06-11T16:33:00.001-07:00

Chapter 1

Six words, a six word short story.

Ernest Hemmingway - Baby shoes for sale, never used

Luxury Jackson- Looking for love, found Jesus instead

October 7, 2002

2009-05-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

Do you want this jacket? I'll give it to you because I am cloaked in failure. It's one- ten in the morning and I am wide awake. I think I might go home after I punch out one or two more pages of this journal thing and finish watching Mission Impossible II. I am going to go running tomorrow and lift weights, I have the L.A. police test in 2 months and I need to get in a lot better shape if I want to be placed high on the list of applicants to ensure myself a place at the academy. Quiet as it's kept I don't think it's that hard to become L.A.P.D. I think they're hiring illegal aliens, so long as you can prove that you've lived in the state for more then five years or something.

October 8,2002

Today I went into work, which is always nice. I meant to go in earlier then usual seeing how this is my one day where I can put in a full eight or nine hours, but I stayed up late last night drinking apple juices with the gang. It was Colin's birthday and I figured we ought to do it right. Mendy and Sida came over which was nice. I hung out with Mendy on Friday and had a nice time, just shooting the breeze until the wee hours of the morning talking about love and love lost and unrequited love blase' blase'. It was really easy to talk to her surprisingly just because it doesn't seem like our personalities are very similar at all but I guess she has been through what I'm going through right now. I need to get away from this city... this everything. I'm not really running towards something like L.A. or a job right of college as much as I'm running away from everything else.
You can never go home but I guess you can always shop there. I don't know L.A. just seems like the right fit for me, 6 foot blonds growing on trees not ditsy but simple. I'll stay out there for three, four, maybe five years and then go ahead and test into the Chicago police department and move back home. I don't get into the L.A. police department then I am going to go ahead and join the marines.

October 5, 2002

I went home two weekends ago and hung out with my friends from high school. I guess they are all still friends and hang out together, which for me is crazy. It was as if they all had just swelled. I can't believe Adam smokes now. All these little things that everybody has picked up, I mean it's cliche' and when I mean it's kind of cliche', it is kind of cliche' but the person I am now wouldn't recognize the person I was back then.
- That is so much bullshit. I am pretty close to the person I was back in high school. The more you change the more you stay the same.

the year 2000- or how miller high life became the champagne of beers

2009-04-30T18:23:00.000-07:00

(the summer of 00')

My thoughts about keeping a journal/diary thing, were that it would be a cool little thing to keep up. I don't know much work it will be or even if I should be writing down things that could get me in trouble. It is 2:26 in the morning, I have been having trouble falling asleep lately. I move back to school in two days for another year which I don't think will be anything like the first. That first year was something else, I feel like I really grew so much in one year, which was the result of meeting a lot of interesting people and learning so much... and not from school either. I think the main thing I learned and hope will always stay with me is to be excited about life. Just... to get excited about things, like a young Jack Kerouac and just be, just be... all over the place and find everything and everyone with interest. I hope that if I keep this up I will become better at writing down my thoughts. I feel that I am finishing one sentence and two more thoughts pop into my head and I hurry up and have to finish my last one. I've experienced so mush just being around someone like Colin. At first it was a bit of social shock because he is do different then me... but then again we are alike. I think he had a very profound affect... blah, blah, blah-
After three days without sleep you can hear voices in running water. I have wondered recently what those voices would say to me. ---
I am looking forward to this year and the apartment if anything it will be- life experience-which I could always use...

2009-04-16T12:42:00.000-07:00

Brian is thinking he's just like bob evans if he was in The Recruit, he's down at the farm...

Winter 08'

2009-03-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

He takes one knee
"Are you serious?"
"Are you serious?" she says, the tiny black velvet box is in his hands.
She collapses perfectly, gracefully
"Yes, Yes"
they stand up together, he helps her up, and they kiss
I pause wanting the moment, their moment too be perfect... then shout across the still frozen water and all the brilliant white that is Humboldt Park and the winter.
"Way to go guys..... Wooo!!!"
They look and wave together, big wide goofy swings with their arms and I wave back and call to the dog and we continue running through the snow.

(If I'm lying I'm dying... I went running with Bear and saw two people get engaged on the fishing pier in Humbolt Park this winter... this is their story.)

Old grocery lists that Liz wrote that I found in the junk drawer

2009-03-12T15:33:00.000-07:00

Bread
Blackberry jelly
Creamer
Total Raisin Bran
Milk
Bananas, butter
Grapes
Skinny Cow Ice Cream Sandwiches
tilapia
50/50 mix salad
cherry tomatoes
cucumber
laundry detergent
Windex
tomato- regular

(Second list, from different date)

-Creamer
-Wheat bread
-Almonds
-dried cranberries
-4 Dannon light yogurts
-2 Italian Wedding Soups
"Campbell's Select Harvest"
-package of chicken (2)
-celery
-scallions
-gorgonzola cheese (crumbled)

best new made-up rock band names for 08'

2009-03-01T12:49:00.001-08:00

google this

madame bovary's ovaries

dorks say what?

oscar wilde things

sugar, water, purple

the krunchettes

A short play

2009-01-19T10:07:00.000-08:00

Scene: A small office, two work desks facing each other with Joe and Bill (coworkers) sitting across from each other.

Joe: Yeah, I know right?
Bill: Wait a minute Joe... you're actually telling me that you woke up this morning and found out that while you were asleep you had time travelled, what, three to five seconds into the future. That is so weird.
Joe: I don't know. I don't know. I don't think so. I have no idea how to get back, it's like I'm existing on a whole different plane. It's okay I'll clean it up.
Bill: Do you know what happened? (Bill reaches across the desk grabbing Joe's arm) Were you exposed to any cosmic rays? Did you take any joy rides in a DeLorean? Do you know how to get back??? (Bill throws his arms in the air in exasperation knocking over Joe's coffee mug of pens and pencils.)
Bill: I'm sorry about the mess Joe but, this is so weird.
Joe: What!?!? (Joe jumps up from his desk) What are you going to do with that hook??? No, you bastard!
Bill: What is it Joe? What do you see in the immediate future?
(Enter blood thirty pirate with hook for a hand, the pirate walks up directly behind Bill and raises the hook slowly above his head).
Joe: Fuck you, you blood thirsty pirate. I'll get you, Bill!!!!!!!! (Joe shakes his clenched hands in the air).
Bill: What? Joe, what is it??? What do you see? (pause)
(Pirate sinks hook into Bill's back)
Bill: Ackkk
and scene...

2008-12-03T19:22:00.000-08:00

I have been reincarnated several times and lived hundreds of lives.

I have been a straightened paper clip in a nondescript executive's office on the eastern seaboard. I was damaged reprehensibly in a quiet fit of anxiety during a conference call with corporate.

I was lichen and I was moss during most of the eighteen hundreds, in a part of the world I know not. I gave myself the name Dr. Tristan McStumbles III and created long, confused medical mystery plays in my little mossy brain.

I was once a banana split sundae with extra nuts and whip cream which was a joy I had never known and now seldom remember.

Terrible begginings from even worse imaginary short stories

2008-12-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

"Why, with enough vinegar you could pickle just about anything."

- Grandma Latke's Secret Cellar

"I'm sorry, your son will never be able to blow his nose again... ever."

- COUNTY a memoir by Dr. Tristan McStumbles III

"Sera was beautiful, she smelled like cookies and sunshine, but she was also a troubled young woman. She spelt her name with an -e- (which you already knew) and then there was the herpes."

- Love Blisters

2008-10-17T13:19:00.000-07:00

A conversation I've had on the street...

Homeless Guy: Hey man can I borrow a dollar?

Me: Sorry man I don't have one.

Homeless Guy: You're not sorry.

Me: No, you're right. Why don't you go fuck yourself instead.

2008-10-17T11:09:00.001-07:00

A conversation I've had at work...

Random guy on the street: Fuck you.

Me: What's that sweet roll? I can't hear you.

RGOTS: I said, fuck you motherfucker.

Me: Why don't you come over here and say that to my face sweet roll.

RGOTS: You ain't going to do shit. I'd fuck you up.

Me: Yeah right, I bet if I was a plate of waffles you'd be all over me, now go back inside and eat something you fat fuck.

16 Sep 2008

2008-09-16T19:06:00.000-07:00

Facebook- All the awkwardness of a high school reunion with the added joy that it never ends.

Brian is done with not believing in capital letters.

Brian is, or has, just finished How We Are Hungry and 1776 and desperately wants to watch True Romance and read Truman simultaneously.

Brian is wearing a sweaty white t-shirt and board shorts right now, just in case you were wondering.

21 august 2005

2008-08-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

i drove kevin to the airport today at four thirty in the morning. i woke up from liz's and rode my bike home at three o'clock. drinking my dunkin donuts coffee...

i wanted to get on a plane going wherever. the feeling of taking a taxi ride to the airport in the early morning...

i suppose this job changes a person it turns you slowly over time into beef jerky. all the hate and the senselessness and the bullshit.

-the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
-he who fights monsters might take care lest he become a monster. and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
-
...what a crock of shit

i need a spiritual fuck it bucket. i need a fucking vacation.

23 august 2007

2008-08-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

been watching rescue me, things with liz are going really good right now.

25 august 2003

2008-08-28T08:23:00.000-07:00

[watching cocktail in a small motel room in wollongong, australia]

when future civilizations look back and research our society they're going to think
tom cruise was worshiped as a god.
jesus was thirty- three when he was crucified and died for our sins.
tom cruise was only twenty- two when he made top gun.

22 july 2008

2008-07-22T15:43:00.000-07:00

-existentialjizum -
(dialogue from the existential porno)

trixie mc sysphilus: fuck me bob, fuck me like i was your mother.

man: pool guy, came to clean your pool.
trixie: but i don't have a pool.
man: everyone you've ever known is going to die.

trixie: oh, oh, oh, i have never felt more alone then with you here and inside of me.

10 june 2008

2008-07-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

drinking a sterling pinot noir 06'. it's a fruit forward wine with the character of california's central coast with opulent cherry flavors, toasty oak and a complex lingering finish.
also with a complex lingering finish and a toasty oak character... deez nuts.

it's like jay-z said, two choices in life either dead or in jail.

me: let's say your girlfriend fucked a horse, for whatever reason, how long would you think you would have to wait until you could have sex with her?

me: is there some sort of twenty-four hour rule or could she douche with some water and vinegar and take a really hot shower with bleach or like a combination of the two. everyone says that they would break up with her immediately, but i think that's bullshit. say you were in love and she was offered twenty five million dollars to fuck this horse.

jim: i would blow that horse myself for twenty five thousand dollars right here right now.

2008-06-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

seen on a t-shirt with a chicago police star "serving and protecting whenever the fuck we feel like it"

facebook

2008-06-15T13:19:00.000-07:00

brian is finished reading tomcat in love and is now feeling like a glazed donut whatever the hell that means.

2008-06-06T14:27:00.000-07:00

i drink your milkshake! i drink it all up!

happy gilmore girls

2008-05-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

"so what do you do for a living?"

-butter sculptor
-professional test taker
-undecided
-domestic violence poster boy

these are the answers to the question that ran through scooter's mind as he hugged the bar.
quiet as it's kept scooter didn't really have a job.
scooter spent several hours this work week taking pictures of the water filtration plant with a cheap disposable camera. where other people see an illegal domestic spying program, scooter sees the chance to become a quasi- celebrity within certain departments of his local fbi branch.
she continued "i'm not trying to pry or anything... it's just i saw the briefcase."
truthfully now, scooter carried that thing (suitcase) around all day riding the various public transit systems. spending the morning prepping the case, teasing the wires to hang out just so from the case. wires that are connected to nothing. sweating his ass off in a much too big scratchy overcoat. riding the train going nowhere.

he went with professional test taker.

"I dropped out of junior year of high school and since then my intelligence has remained perfectly average." (this part is true)
"i'm serious." said scooter with mock aghast at the disbelieving look she gave him before she picked up her wild turkey and diet coke and taking a deep pull through that tiny straw set it down on the bar again and said "pray tell"

"i'm a freak of nature. i have perfectly average intelligence."
leaning in he made sure to touch elbows as he explained
"whenever they come out with a new test.. sat or act, iq, or whatever. they bring me in and have me take the test. these things are designed by whomever. i don't know. but they and i use that word in italics. i'll lean in a little and to the left to emphasize the italics."
scooter leaned in rubbing shoulders this time with the poor girl.
"they don't really have any idea how hard the test is. i mean not really."

"this is where you come in" the girl said.
)she was wearing a scarf. why was she wearing a scarf? it was in throws of july?(

"exactly, i come in and take the test and establish the baseline. you know, which all other comers are measured against. i mean they don't want these tests they created to be too easy or too hard."
the girl who will be known as churchill. churchill downs (her father had a thing for the ponies... more on that later) now turned her wobbly stool towards scooter and pushing her fun bags together for desired effect and not affect breathlessly exclaimed "you don't say?" with appropriate mocked interest for a totally bullshit story.
continued....

09 nov 2003

2008-03-18T19:04:00.000-07:00

where's my mind?
way out in the water, see it swimming.
picking mangoes with phillip, german bloke, good guy.
it's like hanging out with my little brother... nineteen, away from his girlfriend for the first time makes you feel a million years old.
where the hell was i when i was nineteen???
not in australia.
first you get done with the uni.
girls that broke my heart...
these are the ones that really hurt... top five, number (4) four sho.
i'm too old too calloused, too worldly now.
i can't get torn up to pieces.
lisa the girl in my room at cable beach, man i should have tried to hit that even though i don't know your last name...
let's call you churchhill (thank you, you shall know my velocity)...
lisa churchill
i love you, no regrets.
all you have is the time your given.
all we have is the time we're given... a lifetime.

19 mar 2008: 0900 hours eyebrows with brigid

2008-03-18T18:50:00.000-07:00

now i am become death destroyer of worlds- oppenheimer quoting bhagavad-gita
i am nothing but an honest drunk and i can honestly say that i'm drunk...
what hath god wrought???
here but for the grace of god we go.
god is dead.
what if the end of the world wasn't this fucking cataclysmic event... what if it just crept up on little cat's paws (robert frost).....
and no one knew it, until it was too late.
if jesus was alive today, would he be union???
nazareth local 745
and is walmart the anti-christ
- honey pot

what else...

2008-03-07T11:58:00.000-08:00

things i've been up to...
working a part time job on one of my days off and getting a lot of reading done in the middle of night.
books i've read the double by jose saramago, the wind- up bird chronicles, lies my teacher told me, nickle and dimed and i just started the brief and wondrous life of oscar wao.
also comcast gives you free movies on demand so i've watched bananas and a guide to recognizing your saints. i'm sorry, but shia labeouf... that kid can act. combine the fact that he's been arrested, misdemeanor, in chicago and his street cred just shot through the fucking roof. i'm looking forward to seeing him in the new indiana jones movie.
what else...
getting in the ring and sparring with a couple of guys and girls who are competing in the golden gloves at the end of the month. my nose still feels soft from getting punched in the face over and over again. this girl kc punches as hard as any guy and i'm just eating shots because a) i'm not very good and b) she's like million dollar baby in there without the whole quadripelgic tongue chewing off thing.
i just keep thinking to myself why the face man?
that's about it. good times, good times.

liz: why do let them punch you in the face?
me: i'm trying to break their hands with my nose.

26 jAn 2008

2008-01-26T16:11:00.000-08:00

strike out ALS...
partially ejected, pronounced dead at the scene.
did anyone see daniel day- louis start crying on the oprah show over heath ledger???

Barry: Top 5 songs about death. A Laura's Dad tribute list, okay? Okay. Leader of the Pack. The guy fuckin' beefs it on his motorcycle and dies, right? Dead Man's Curve. Jan & Dean.
Dick: Do you know that right after they recorded that song Jan himself crashed his car... Barry: It was Dean you fuckin' idiot...
Rob: It was Jan. It was a long time after the song.
Barry: Okay, whatever. Tell Laura I Love Her. That would bring the house down - Laura's Mom could sing it. You know what I'd want? One Step Beyond by Madness. And, uh, You Can't Always Get What You Want.
Dick: No. Immediate disqualification because of its involvement with The Big Chill. Barry: Oh God. You're right!
Dick: Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Gordon Lightfoot.
Barry: You bastard! That's so good - that should have been mine... The night Laura's daddy died. Sha na na na na na na na na! Brother what a night it really was. Mother what a night it really... angina's tough! Glory be!

i've been thinking about life and death and how completely unfair all of this is...
who said... life is full of pain and misery and it's over all too quickly???
a co-worker of mine, his wife died in a car accident and i don't know, you know?
game over. something like that, i mean what the fuck. some fat three hundred pound fuck drops dead of a massive heart attack at least the people around him could be like: well, we saw that one coming a long way off. he ate shit, he drank shit and never exercised. we tried to warn him. maybe that's the reason i still smoke. way back when, i went to the medical examiner's office and they had this woman on the table. wait, back up...
the actual morgue is in the basement of the medical examiner's office and it has more the feel of a butcher shop then a funeral home. there were five or six people working there that day and they all had a body going. the first thing they did was make an incision across the head from the top of one ear across to the top of the other (the same spot where a girl puts her head band) and the next move was to grab the scalp of the head and pull the skin all the way down over the face... down to their chin. i mean it just peels off. i couldn't believe how easy it was, like in the movie face off. i want to take his face off. you're more amazed that someones face (your face) can come off that easy then horrified. at that point with their face inside out and pulled down past their chin they stopped being a person and become a piece of meat, which is what everyone is, if you want to look at it that way (which i imagine for the purposes of being able to do that job every day you would want).
anyway they had this woman on the table and her chest was open and the guy doing the autopsy points to this woman's lungs and says "look at how pink and healthy her lungs look. you can tell she never smoked." and all you could think is, well her healthy pink lungs really didn't help her when she was busy getting creamed by that bus.
but that's life and life's unfair and god is the most insecure twat i...
all these religions all these people they're constantly have to tell him (god) how great he really is. it's a goddamn commandment for me, keep holy the sabbath. where one day a week you go for an hour and tell god that he's the greatest and there isn't another one like him. what a selfish prick.
when i die i think i would want people to say about me "that son of a bitch had it coming".

rainy day men [guest post]

2008-01-06T18:07:00.000-08:00

The most searing memory of my ex-girlfriend is that she ran like a fucking retard.
Seriously. I realize that saying "retard" isn't quite, um, mature, but if you had ever seen the way this girl ran, you would shock yourself by how quickly the words "look at that fucking retard!" popped out of your mouth.
It's hard to explain how incongruent she looked when she would run. Arms flailing around, feet popping off to the side on her back-kick, her eyes seemingly glued to the sidewalk in front of her. When I'd see her coming back through the park to my apartment, I was hit by the fear that she would face-plant in the next second, knocking out her teeth and scraping up her face. It would've been gross, and brutal, and I was terrified that it would happen so much that I stopped looking out the window because of how nervous it made me.
I can only imagine what it was like for strangers, who had no clue what this barely-controlled seizure victim was doing.

My current girlfriend runs like a gazelle. She's tall, fair-skinned, "athletic," and is far too kind to me. She works downtown at a place with a name like Haverchuck, Schweiber, and Weir. Every time we go to a restaurant, or to a movie, or to a bookstore, I become even more aware than usual that I am a fellow who plants trees at city parks for a living, and she is someone who works for someone who helps decide that the city should have a fellow on the payroll who plants trees in city parks.

This is why I have to break up with her at lunch today.
That, and because she seems to be enjoying herself way, way too much during sex. I am nowhere near that good in bed; I'd say I'm just north of mediocre. This means that, when she claps a hand over her mouth to avoid screaming, she's either (a) a fool, or (b) a liar.

....................................................................................................................................................................

When I was in high school, I played safety on the football team, mostly because the gym teacher called me a pussy over and over until I tried out for the team. I'm not the most confident guy (granted, everybody says that about themselves, even the the biggest strutting cocksuckers), and my job on Friday nights was to violently restrain big black guys from running past me. I think that my prayers of "fuck fuck fuck" were sometimes interpreted as me "pumping myself up", so my teammates didn't think of me as a coward. I was, though.
Being called a "faggot-ass whiteboy" twenty times every Friday night was always interesting. I was a whiteboy, and I guess kind of a faggot in the high school sense. I dated girls, but I also really liked Sarah Mclachlan, which is, to be fair, quite faggy.

This is all in saying that my only constant co-worker now, six years out of high school, is a big black guy who used to play tailback at a rival school, who's probably my best friend, and who is a self-described "faggot-ass Negro."
Irony is for dickheads, but that's awesome.

.....................................................................................................................................

"We're going Cloverfield today," Terry said, "so bring your headphones."
We have a system worked out, Terry and me. Since we spend every day together, we tend to run out of decent conversation, and end up talking about sex, which grosses us out respectively (he doesn't care for my 'faggy romantic bullshit', and I don't care for his detailed descriptions of him ass-fucking his boyfriend.)
When we go to a park named after a president, we talk all day. When we go to a non-presidential park, we listen to music, separately.
Today was a headphones day, as there is no President Cloverfield in our nation's textbooks.

It started to rain around noon, so we decamped to a field house to split a six-pack of High Life (a brand that both white guys and black guys like. As long as they're broke.)
Some may frown upon drinking on the job, but we don't operate any machinery, and we have five hours to work off three beers. We're fine. Plus, it makes us feel a little more working class, since being a nerdy white boy and a gay black guy doesn't tend to fit us in with our colleagues. We both gave up cigarettes within the past year too, so the beer is the last thing we have to hold onto.

Today was. . . . well, today got weird.

wolves at the door [guest post]

2008-01-06T17:13:00.000-08:00

there are times when that old devil comes peeking his head around the corner. Or he knocks on the door, lightly, just loud enough that I can hear him.
He likes to taunt me a bit, give me a hint at what's possible, and he knows that I know what a nasty fucker he is.
The thing about him is that he never actually dies. I can beat him again and again, but he'll never be gone for good. I've just revoked his citizenship. I've taken away his passport. I've cut off his legs, and he has to hobble around. He's the only cripple I take pleasure in mocking. Every time I laugh it's me slicing off another bit of his skin. My pleasure is, almost literally, his pain.
But the fucker's still alive. He can still taunt me, make me remember when he he used to beat me bloody. When he had me on the ropes.
"You could barely get out of bed, you coward. Remember that? You stayed up all night, just waiting for something decent to happen. You were nothing. You couldn't even move. Maybe you're still that coward. Are you? I think you are. I think you're weak. You can't even handle a woman leaving. You can't handle memories of the bad days. I'm going to ruin you."

These days, it's not even a fair fight. I've seen his playbook, I've watched all the video, and he never actually learns any new tricks.
Sure, he fights dirty, but then again so do I.

It can be anything that triggers his threats, really. An oddly warm day in the middle of January, and it's 2005 again, and I'm in hell. The woman I love will never come back, and it's hard to see how to get past that. I'm a couple dollars short, and I'm a failure again, a disappointment.

So I run. And clean. And work. And find someone to run around with.
He goes away. For a while. I can't kill him, but he can't kill me either.
I don't like Sundays.

furlough 08' baby, wooo

2007-12-31T14:36:00.000-08:00

to new beginnings or the same old shit...
mr. oglepants went to a bikram yoga class this morning with his betrothed and rounded out the afternoon with a big glass of wine and chain smoked the afternoon away.
if anyone, anywhere would like to post a small short story on this blog feel free...
it's fushupao@hotmail.com and the password is omnibus700. that's right dear reader whomever you are, wherever you happen to be, feel free to lend your createactivity to a good cause (be productive and not reproductive) this new year. if your blog entry is especially creative or funny i promise, here and now, to send you prize in the mail. please just email me at fushupao@hotmail.com your name, address, etc. prizes will awarded in the order of entries received and will only be limited by my own imagination and my willingness to maybe shell out ten to thirty dollars on this little experiment. prizes include a map of budapest, a half used disposable camera... what could the first thirteen pictures be of???? and/or a copy of philip roth's, the dying animal. read the book the san francisco chronicle calls "sorrowful, sexy, elegant... A distinguished addition to Roth's increasingly remarkable literary career." or just read it for the part of where the aged professor face fucks his nineteen year old student or the bit where he masturbates to beethoven... classic. why on god's green earth i decided to read more and start with this, quiet as it's kept. furlough 08' baby, woo

ray... if anyone ever asks if you're a god... say yes!!!

2007-11-18T18:45:00.000-08:00

slew/ bob slid up to honey pot on the bench and rubbing his scabby elbow into her side blurted out "my super power is that i can't eat peanuts. i can't even really touch them. i'll break out into hives and my throat will close up... cool huh???"
"that's not a super power numb nuts, that's called an allergic reaction" honey pot stated rolling her eyes for effect "why don't you just go drop dead and help save on oxygen for the rest of us."
bob slunk off carrying his cold dented can of corned beef hash. exit stage left
honey pot continued "he thinks he's so special, but really he's like special olympic special... short bus, you know?" thumbing her fat thumb in the direction that bob left in.
the boy whose real name was wiznick/ lunchmeat sighed deeply "and this too shall pass"
before honey pot could register what just happened lunch meat lunged across the table and grabbed a hold of honey pot's hand interlacing her plump sweaty fingers across the back of her hand with his own.
"can i ask you something... just between us prom queens???"
honey pot attempted to wring her hand free but the boy named lunch meat tightened his grip.
"are you a god???"
before she could answer the boy named lunch meat leaned over and blew his nose all over honey pot's chest. wet snot rockets... gray and gelatinous peppered the front of her shirt and bare skin.
honey pot stood up clutching her lunch tray to the front of her chest "this conversation isn't over you gross little jesus freak." and stomped out of the lunch room, her squat frame shaking as she stormed out of the now still room.
the boy named lunch meat with a self satisfied smirk leaned back and picked up the chewed apple that sat on his tray and cupping it in both hands began humming, careful so no one over heard him, what if god were one of us.
the half bitten part of the apple began turning yellow and then a shade of brown as a white moldy fuzz grew from the exposed jagged parts made from his teeth marks. a black bruise slowly spreading across the skin, beginning from the damaged part of the apple, as it time lapsed... turning into a rotten fetid lump of flesh in a matter of seconds.

sigh

2007-11-04T15:11:00.000-08:00

it's been a minute...
drinking little penguin... all wines taste the same in the end... acidic, the same going down as they do coming up...
the vomitorium. the vomit comet. wallace and vomit. that's a funny word in english. like the eskimos have twenty- seven different words for snow... vomit.
seen on a t- shirt "i'd fuck me"

the function of my dysfunction

2007-10-18T19:38:00.000-07:00

lunch meat: i have the ability to know exactly what jesus would do...
honeypot: really??? okay hotshot what would jesus do with an elephant with three balls???
lunch meat: he'd walk the elephant and pitch to the rhinoceros.

i am leaving for san francisco tomorrrow... thank you jay, colin and simone for taking care of bear...

here but for the grace of god we go...

cry me a river, build a bridge and get over it.

2007-09-15T17:05:00.000-07:00

"so... why do they call you lunch meat???"
honey pot asked pushing her large glasses tight around her round face. lunch meat was concentrating on the sad little chicken nuggets on his plastic cafeteria plate. the girl named honey pot sat down across from him in the lunchroom at roman polanski high school, mixing her mashed potatoes and canned corn together before scooping plastic spoonfuls into her mouth. lunch meat realizing the girl was still sitting there after several minutes shrugged his shoulders in reply. honey pot with a mouthful of instant potatoes and corn continued the one sided conversation. "i heard, that you got caught masturbating with a pile of shaved ham from a sandwich by a teacher in the bathroom. only, somehow you microwaved the meat on high and gave yourself second degree burns on your bubble yum and chicklets."
lunch meat looked up for the first time that day, "if that was really the case, and i'm not saying it is, my nickname would be blister dick or something... wouldn't it?" attempting his best at a withering look.
honeypot pointed her spork at the boy flicking dehydrated potato flakes and hissed "listen hear you dumb little kumquat. i know okay??? i know you're special... but then again so am i."
she pushed up the sleeve of a tired gray flannel she was wearing and held a limp wrist at eye level. lunch meat watched as tiny water droplets formed at the tips of her fingers before dropping onto the cold gray table between them. a dozen or so fell before honey pot continued.
"that weird solar flare... the one that turned the sky pink and that bright shade of green didn't just effect you numb nuts."
lunch meat gazed quietly around the cafeteria, several students had stopped what they were doing and stared back giving a silent nod.
honey pot continued,
"we were all outside that day. you think you're not lonely only alone? i got news for you... you needle nose, smug little piece of twit. you're not."

my onion personal ad

2007-08-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

why you should get to know me:
because

five things i can't live without:
coffee and cigarettes, running shoes, rescue me ((the tv show.) i'm not gay but i would sleep with tommy in a hot second) and that fake taco meat stuff made out of soy- sooo good

last great book i read:
kafka on the shore- haruki murakami (it makes norwegian wood its little bitch in terms of beautifully insane weirdness)

songs that put me in the mood:
this is not a very good question because no one in their right mind answers it like the song playing in the background while taking a trip to pleasure town "oh, we're going" (it's a favorites list).
-these are just some albums i bought for the third time because i love them but continuously misplace them
nevermind- nirvana, yankee hotel foxtrot- wilco, ok computer- radiohead and the legend of johnny cash- johnny cash (a boy named sue- why have i never heard this song before??? it's so good it makes my bones ache).

five things you'll find in my bedroom:
many, many pillows (decorative), a dog named bear that likes to chew the stitching off the blanket, a girl named liz fast asleep, original artwork and several half read books

if i could be anywhere in the world right now:
driving to the airport in the early morning to make a flight... it's the anticipation that leads to all that gratification (thank you illinois lottery and bernie mac).

best lie i ever told:
Well you was doin fifty-five in a fifty-fo'

---quirky is sexy but a quark is sexier

16 aUg 2007

2007-08-17T02:42:00.000-07:00

me: i wish i knew what heavy felt like.
(i said this out loud to no one in particular. i was picking something up that weighed a lot, i think it was that blue hamper thing i have that was filled with sweaty, nasty, dirty laundry and it reminded me of a scene in something about mary.)
-----liz walks into the room---
liz: you really like talking to yourself... don't you?
me: if i only said it to myself... in my head, then that would be called thinking... and really liz, who wants to do that???

the field

2007-07-28T18:04:00.000-07:00

sue sat up.
sue: so what if she doesn't love you? it's the things you love and not the other way around that defines you, as you... see???
mudd: i tried that. quiet as it's kept, it's not working out so great.
sue: we'll talk more on the subject later...
mudd: i don't know. i don't know anymore. i thought i did but i don't. not really.
sue: the museum is about to close and you are going to have to leave. we'll talk more about the subject later.
mudd: my fifty minutes is up? i understand...
(mudd fevershily buttoned up his navy blue winter coat and pulling his collar tight around the neck rubbed his balding head)
sue: in a perfect situtation how would you like to see this resolved?
mudd: i'd want to her in my arms and tell her this is going to be the way the way it is and no one can help it a bit.
sue: and... how does that make you feel?
mudd: angry and dejected. i don't know how i'm supposed to feel... but it's not like this. i didn't want this. i didn't ask for this.
sue (the t-rex skeleton): we'll talk more about this later... okay???
mudd flattened his dry spiked hair against his head with a sticky palm heaved a sigh.
mudd: i suppose
sue: good- bye
mudd: bye
and with that the boy named mudd stomped down the stairs and into the cold february evening out onto the cracked steps of the field museum and after lighting a clove cigarette wandered home.

07 ocT 02

2007-07-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

do you want this jacket?
i'll give it to you, because i am cloaked in failure.

it's one ten in morning and i am wide awake. i think i might go home after i punch out on or two more pages of this journal thing and finish watching mission impossible two. i am going running tomorrow and lifting weights. i have the l.a. police test in two months and i need to get in a lot better shape if i want to be placed high on the list of applicants to ensure a place at the academy. quiet as it's kept... i don't think it's that hard to become the l.a.p.d. i think they're hiring illegal aliens... so long as you can prove that you've lived in the states for more then five years or something. there is no bench press test nor is there the mile and a half run, it's a stationary bike and a chest expander test. what the hell is that???
i need to stop eating so much, not because i'm going to get fat (which i am) but because food is so damn expensive. it's like all the guys i went to high school were the same but they swelled. since school started and i haven't been working full time i think i put on a pound or two. i need to to start watching what i eat because i am slowly killing myself. my dad didn't drink or smoke but he packed away the oreos three at a time... fitting those soggy things in his mouth, finishing a row after a meal. i think i eat a little bit better then him but i have moments.
for the next two weeks i am going to just try and chill out...

paht whatever of whatever: or... the story about the samurai and ronin

2007-07-04T14:10:00.000-07:00

"that's what tetanus is for babe"... the nonsequitor overheard today by my neighbors talking.

michigan: maybe you drink too much
bear: maybe i breathe too much... ha ha
michigan: you're drunk and i'm leaving. call me when you've sobered up.
bear: you can't leave because i'm already gone babe.

narrator: bear pushes past the other young man and having pulled open the door stumbles down the stairs walking into into the damp false dawn of morning.
samurai: (to each other).... bear is a non- issue, leave him to destroy himself
narrator: and they watched as he steadied himself and resumed a slow shuffle down the center of the street through the patchy predawn light.

bear: you know, i can hear you... in my minds eye (pressing a swollen finger to his bruised temple)...
narrator: what???
bear: your thoughts. i can hear them: resuming a slow shuffle down the street blah, blah, blah... pressing a bruised finger to his swollen temple. are your ready???
narrator: i suppose... it's highly unorthodox.
bear: it's all in the past now. everyone is living in the past, constantly. it's self sustaining. no future, no present... only the past. even as you read these words you're only really reminiscing about the word you just read last, like this one, or this one...no wait... this one
narrator: so, it doesn't matter does it? because it's already done...
bear: exactly... you've said it yourself... from many, one.
narrator: upcheck has been left for dead.
bear: he will survive
narrator: the man becomes sullen, he becomes morose... his girlfriend breaks up with him. in a different time, a different place they would have been married. she would have had a million of his babies.
bear: all of this has been written...
narrator: from many, one
bear: from many, one
michigan quietly cat leaps from the open window of the three story burn out, the building has been gutted by a fire long past since... and falls gracefully to the waiting samurai below. he falls towards the earth and the warm dry clay, kicking up a cloud of coarse smoked earth and the expectant sinewy arms of the samurai below...

04 june 2005

2007-06-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

it will be two year in two days for when i left for australia. what a strange little trip it's been. from here to there, back and forth and back again. i wanted to be alone tonight. to tear, i guess, to tear my flesh off in huge ragged chunks until i looked like how i feel inside. this is my life. i chose this. the person i am now is going to hate myself in what??? six months... six years. a glutton for punishment. relationships are ridiculous things but we need the eggs... it's not the end of the world what ever it is.

24 april 2005
kevin: you know what this party needs???
colin: no, what?
kevin: more dudes!!!!!

17 noVember 05

2007-06-10T15:25:00.000-07:00

ooh prague, it's a beautiful city. hot wine on cold nights. goulash, kafka and wursts with mustard and chunks of rye bread. i have the whole room to myself at the beta hostel and it's lovely and you can smoke in the room and take hot private showers. i know it can't last. i wandered around the city venturing further and further out getting more and more turned around... but that's okay because i don't really have anywhere to be. i'm not lonely, only alone... and it's suiting because it's self induced. if it ain't baroque don't fix it. praha is divided into four bits: old town, new town, lesser town and some other part that involves a castle. the last two are across the river vltava. i know this because i have the map in front of me and also because i got drunk and took the 1,000 czech crown tour "prague at night". i have two more cities to go and truthfully now... i just want to come home. i walked up the hill and saw the prague eiffel tower and the castle. in london i managed to stay lost for about five hours and saw buckingham palace. the tower of london is actually a bunch of towers and whole place is very flat and low to the ground. mendy and dave have just been amazing to me. fish and chips; curries and pubs and walks up and down the thames with coffee breaks. they've made a home for themselves about ten minutes from victoria station and mendy's making plans with her friends james and jenny for her hen party. i'm staying in vysehrad next to the metro that runs inside the expressway. vysehard castle was built in the 10th century and was the king's home and the center of the kingdom until 1140, blah, blah, blah...
if you hit the river then you know that you've gone too far west with powder gate and all the windy narrow streets at odd angles and large flat paving stones which are a god send because you can hear a car coming from a mile away. the tires bouncing in between the cracks of the stones in the distinct flip, flip, flip sound letting you know a vehicle is coming down the crazy blind alley that you're walking down and you better start heading towards the sidewalk and safety. here it's the little things: the way everyone sets your change down on the counter and yes, get ready for it... it is the royale with cheese.

12 apRil 07

2007-06-10T15:07:00.000-07:00

no, no, no... listen
moving in with liz at the end of the month. first we get the khakis then we get the girls. making or trying to make, red beans and rice while listening to to tupelo honey. how perfect is this moment??? hot wine on cold nights. eating a brawt at the fucking game, (jesus christ... did i even know this girl?) australia, alaska, rowanda (sp)??? i suppose it's the people you love and not not the other way around.

da bear- part (2) two of the seven eleven

2007-06-10T14:11:00.000-07:00

bear sat lazily on the roof of some nondescript boarded up building smoking and drinking from a dented can of warm beer... waving his hand in sluggish circles.
bear: all of this is temporary- god, you, me and ice cream. it's not a lot, but it's our lot in life.
upcheck sat indian style his arms folded tightly across his chest.
upcheck: you know this isn't over, you may think this is done but...
bear flopped over on his side and pulling his legs up to his chest and folding his arms over his scabbed knees... whispered to himself "is this my mind? is this my mind? is this my mind?"
upcheck sat quietly and stared off into space before speaking again.
upcheck: this is not over, this thing we created has become more... and not even death can stop it now. not his, not mine, not even yours. they will defeat us all... i don't even know what that means anymore.
upcheck stood up and dusted off the back side of his pants. "they attacked michigan last night, he managed to get away. i don't know what would have happened to him... meditate on that."
narrator: and with that upcheck turned to leave, exit stage left.
narrator: the game was fought at night under the cover of darkness and in good faith, until the time...
upcheck ducked into an alley glancing over his shoulder occasionally, he made his way across the wet cobblestone making his way home, it was after dark.
the three samurai lay in wait, in the shadows of a quiet gangway.
the fight was brief and a violent mess. it was only ended by the sound of approaching sirens, several minutes later, as one of the assassins threw elbow after elbow into the base of his skull in an attempt to separate the brain from the spinal column.
narrator: from many, one

paht seven

2007-05-23T09:06:00.000-07:00

celery- ce'st la vie
slew- shit my man, i think you stabbed me...

upcheck and the two men poured out of the bar and into the street legs and arms flailing everywhere. celery sat there silently the hood on her faded green jacket pulled down over her eyes sucking on a wet cigarette with the filter torn off.
-celery was downtown, for whatever reason, and people watching... everyone was a walking obituary to her back then. your life summed up in a three sentence blurb. son of so and so... father to him and her like that's all you managed to do in your time here on earth, procreate. and a man with a seeing eye dog, a blind man, was coming up to the intersection, and this dog with his sad eyes slumped over in this crazy harness takes this man through the crosswalk against the red light and the bright orange hand. this fucking dog doesn't miss a beat. he's ready. given up on life. defeated. everyone on the street is standing there stunned. to say anything would invite panic and ultimately death... and the whole time cars are barely missing the man and his sad- eyed yellow dog. they both died... not then, but later... cancer, but many years later and apart.
the three men on the corner struggle in the rain oblivious to the world around them.
upcheck screams- go ahead... blacken my soul out with violence and loss.
the third man fishes in his pants pocket for something: a knife with a black pearl handle.
slew seeing all of this sprints across the street at full speed as the third man wrestles his knife open with a free hand.

me: have you even read my blog???
mendy: i read the first one or two. it didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, soooo...
me: you haven't even looked at it, have you?
mendy: it's not even about you, really...
(thank you mendy, for everything, even if you'll never read it. my thanks... not the blog)

slew trips, tripped... three's company style, and falls on the knife with the black pearl handle, the grace of god, and the calloused hand that held the thing...
celery limps over to the crime scene with the yellow tape only to be taken down after it is all over. upcheck stands by himself on the corner, his pock marked face twisted into a frown.
"i've seen all of this in my dreams"
"i know, i think we all did..."
"this is the end of the beginning..."
"or the other way around"

the magnificient seven samurai

2007-05-05T22:53:00.000-07:00

from many, one...
michigan was running, running running.
a small lactic knife slid underneath his ribs.
the fear of god.
narrator: seven young men went out that night and six returned... so it goes.
michigan jumped a low chain link fence, monkey vaulting, into the adjacent backyard and doubled back.
narrator: seven young men went out and six returned: three samurai and three ronin... the seventh died.
michigan wheeled around and threw a wild side kick into the chest of his once friend.
narrator: the game was created- from many, one- the battles were fought after midnight. midnight was when the monsters came out. alliances were formed and broken... to the victor the spoils, and all would be forgiven in the end... until the night six returned.
the two shadows were on top of michigan raining blows on his back and shoulders as he wrung himself free of his black hoody. this fight is over.
narrator: the competition, the game, became a sick and twisted thing after that night.
three ronin against three samurai... and this is where this story ends its beginning.
michigan scrambled and managed to strike the one young man between the legs with a closed hand and fled down the alley southbound with tears in his eyes.

the expharience: paht seven of seven

2007-04-15T18:28:00.000-07:00

...

sloths...sloths!!! aka paid a dog to burn down a hospital

2007-04-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

if you're going to sit there and insult me at least make it accurate. upcheck sobbed into an empty smudged glass. the truth hurts sooooo much more.
the beginning of the end or the other way around.
celery tugged at the frayed end of her pale green jacket. it was raining... again.
his name was death and hell followed with him.
upcheck raised a chipped glass "to sex with exe's"
bob/ slew waited silently for the accident he was only able to prevent.
"to new beginnings or the same old shit."
"i'll fold you like a lawn chair, my man... beat you like a drum, smoke you like a cheap cigar."
celery hobbled over, she had twisted her ankle after successfully falling several times that night.
sophisticated ruin.
the lights changed from green to yellow to red... again that night.
"what are you going to do??? are you going to hit me?"
there was a knife with a pearl handle, a four inch blade and the grace of god..
bob- 15 aPril 2007
celery gave all her friends cancer in her mind...
her mother would marvel at their complete recovery months later.
next time little suzy so and so from the down the street would come over to play...
leukemia, lymphoma, lou gehrigh's disease... a lot of diseases that start with the letter "l"
celery was prepared for the worst and hoping for the best. a life lived with the added poignancy and interest that always involves a near death experience (with help from a thin, pale, eleven year old girl)... a small miracle existing purely in her mother's mind.

classic peanuts, or... hey charlie brown fuck you

2007-04-05T18:23:00.000-07:00

(old sir henry oglepants, from my journal... which does make the saddest sort of friend)
10-12 june 2003
i sort of drifted through the city of sydney my first day in a a caffeine and nicotine haze. I've started planning in my head a trip toward queensland where i can pick bananas or trawl for fish in cairns. random unsubstantial conversations with complete strangers as i wandered around darling harbor, the rocks, and circular quay. i sat around, smoked, watching the people move around the city.
"it was all beautifully similar to everywhere else i've been."
-and for travelling alone... well... if that's way it's going to be. fuck it. that's the way it is.
I smiled and waved and the tiny girl giggled and buried her head in her mother's shirt and i was out the elevator door without a glance back...

18 august 2006

2007-04-05T17:40:00.000-07:00

i went to dave and mendy's wedding on the 09th. two flights, a tube ride and then a train ride to plymouth and waited at the bus depot for another three hours and some fourteen hundred dollars later. you can't put a price on friendship. it was beautiful wedding at a naploeanic fort on the side of a cliff. I hung out with james and jenny most of the days and james's sister rachel. we stayed up late talking both nights. she was a social worker and lived in south london on the dodgey end. i drank coffee all night, the night of the wedding. rachel, james brown and jenny were just brilliant. smoking on the back steps with mendy's cousins from "WISCOSIN"... me the only one that laughed at my little joke... playing with her son. what is this??? the tiger claw.
sitting on couch with mendy... feeling so close to another person but at that same time realizing how far apart we really were... and that hug after it was all said and done from the two of them together. life is made up of all those small beautiful moments. i never want to forget that feeling; i never want to forget that memory. top five (number) four, show. staying with james and jenny, i realize why people travel because... someplaces at some times can feel more like home than home. in that moment you want to lose yourself. there will always be a place for you here. i would travel twice as far and spend all that i have... to be in that place to be with people i was sharing that moment. now i have twenty days consecutive days off and time to journal and drink and to do things.. and not to do them.
better men have met worse ends... but the race does not go to the fast nor the strong but time and chance when they intersect.

i'm not a soldier but i got soul

2007-03-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

what's horrifying is not the act of murder... but the fact that it isn't committed more readily. the actual act so easy. the fact that anyone, anywhere could kill another person so easily if they wanted to but they don't. societies... governments create weapons of mass destruction because all of us won't do our own small part.
- upcheck
he sat quietly at the bar "no one tells me what to do."
if you die in your dream, you die in really life- the body cannot exist without the mind-
slew was constantly dying in his dreams... dying exotic deaths...in degrees.
laughing his ass off. he'd wake up upset and unable to go back to bed.
sooo... this is death. a strike to the base of the skull with a blunt instrument separating the brain from the spinal column. the stars you see right before you black out, a million dead wishes. this is my life this is my mistake.
he swung with a wild hay maker striking the side of the neck with a clenched hand.
what are you going to do???
are you going to hit me???
kapow... kerchow...
like the batman series on television, all the punches thrown wound up to cartoonish quality.
the beginning of the end or the other way around. celery crying her eyes out. this is the future welcome to it... celery knows all of this, but can prevent none of it.
in those star trek episodes, the captain of the next generation decides to go ahead knowing whatever they decide has been preordained so the choice, ultimately has to be... to change nothing.
they sat on the corner eating broken oreos by the fistful... passive acceptance.

me: what's going on?
jay: mmmm... I'll tell you what's going on... I got to reheat my burrito.
(enter colin stage left)
colin: you kickin it out here???
jay: kevin's party is tonight they're playing darts at mulligans. you should come.
jay: avocado, rib- eye, sour cream, lettuce... sooo good.
colin: babies, root beer floats and barbecue, how can you not love me... jeez.
jay: i generate excitement
colin: can you really put a cost on living the best year of your life???
me: how can you two tool boxes not have a roommate by now???
(not verbatim... but close)

part four or... I am starting a band called malcom x box aka the carl jung bloods

2007-03-16T06:46:00.000-07:00

i can't finish anything, not even my life -slew
"wishes are only dreams with expired half- lives" bob said out loud. celery shouted down the hallway "and eyebrows are only little hairy sweatbands for your eyes." grabbing at a dull pink disposable razor and tugging it across her forehead taking off half her right eyebrow.
somewhere close a man has started drinking in a bar by himself. he raises a small glass full of whiskey and hate
the man exhales "here but for the grace of god we go." and drinks in and down, all the violence. he touches his swollen nose with a hand, the inside crusted with dried blood. blood tastes like copper... it's like trying to swallow a mouthful of rotting pennies. back and to the left.
the man on the bike path died a little more then two weeks later in the bathroom of his home of a massive brain hemorrhage. naked and foaming at the mouth... saggy balls and all. the fire fighter paramedics went through the motions covering his waist with a clean white sheet and drove to the hospital having already pronounced him in their minds. death be not proud.
fate... much like the word fucked... both start with the same letter.
celery knows this because i know this, she also reads the obituary pages from day old newspapers.
her parents died in a drunk driving accident. you know what they call a family of five in a minivan in accidents like that... airbags.
"everyone i ever know goes away in the end" celery sobbed pressing her head to the microwave and pushing start one night with slew. thank you trent reznor.
disappointment muck like the river denial is not just a island in the pacific... or a river in egypt.
the man at the bar will began drinking amaretto stone sours very soon, his name is upcheck. i know this because celery knows this. not the big why questions, but just the result. i know all of this before her because i am already dead. -bob

ask abby anyting???

2007-03-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

dear paulette,
I have been happily married for seven years to a wonderful guy but lately I feel the romance has faded. do you have suggestions on how to spice up the love life in a languishing marriage??? sincerely, inquiring wives want to know

dear, iwwk i like to include at least three items in the bedroom when i decide it's sexy time- they include but aren't limited to the following:
-a food item
-an animal with a humorous disease
-an object
examples...
-a dented can of cream corn
-a hamster with epilepsy
-and a blue tarp
or...
-two boxes of lime green jello
-a flattened basketball
-a three legged cat with ringworm
it's a fun a game that could involve the whole family need be... the sky is the limit

the depahted

2007-02-27T01:32:00.000-08:00

he rode a pale horse and his name was death, and hell followed with him. -johnny cash
this is my life this is my mistake
celery... celery invented pets that she didn't have, only to kill them off. she would dig holes in her backyard only to fill them in later, bawling her eyes out over the freshly turned earth for a pet she never had that had never died.
when i was I don't know... fourteen, i thought I had super powers... that I could see the future. there was a path that ran along side our house, a bike path... freshly paved and i knew a man was going to die there unless I prevented it. he is going to go walking and have a heart attack and I was the only one that was that was going to able to prevent it. I was grounded at the time, but i ran out of the house anyways crying and I took my bike and went to that bike path. there was a man... and he was walking and i rode up to him on my bicycle and said hi looking anxiously into his face. i have seen death, not back then... but later, and there is a smell... it smells of amaretto and rotten fruit. the smell is unmistakable. when you smell it you know the person is gone.. twenty- one grams lighter... done. they are gone and somewhere else. he looked at me and said hello back, and riding along side him for a minute, waiting for him to drop dead i asked tentatively "no, but how do you feel?" he walked on... down the bike path after giving me a strange look.
celery and bob waited waited on the corner of the intersection tonight... again. Waiting for the accident that he was only able to prevent. bob, "slew... my name was slew." celery turned to bob wiping her ratty bangs off her forehead. "slew... hey godot, the whole donnie darko moment... blah, blah, blah..."
bob wasn't listening, watching the lights change, he stared off into space willing what was supposed to happen, to happen so they could go home. "why don't you just blow me because you're acting like my fucking girlfriend right now." bob said, wiping a wet sleeve across his runny nose.

part two: or thanks ang-n-oli for the inspired t-shirt

2007-02-20T09:15:00.000-08:00

journals are the saddest sort of friends- celery
act one/: scene two
after three days without sleep you can hear voices in running water. have you ever wondered what they would say?
this is your future. welcome to it. it begins now... no wait... now, no now.
no, no, no, no, no listen...
bob swayed as he finished off a bottle of vitamins, b6.
gnashing his teeth violently. little bits of vitamin spraying every where as he spoke.
proprioception is our sixth sense. The continuous but unconscious sensory flow from the movable parts of the body: muscle, tendons, joints. Their position to me and motion are continuously monitored and adjusted by my brain. without it you become disembodied, like a freshly pithed frog.
celery chewed on the split ends of her hair. what is that from? she whispered. is this my mind? is this my mind? is this my mind?
The vitamin craze of the nineties with the health faddists overdosing on pyridoxine, poisoning themselves. a generation of power walking zombies.
your body is dead, not real... not yours
this is the rest of your life welcome to it.
celery -12 fEb 07 - This body doesn't feel like me- this doesn't feel right. The constant fucking and eating. it's so habitual you know? maybe you do. Everything is so dull, pale, so bleached. there is no beginning... no end just a long laborious middle. one of those sort of "if I was a mind reader i would know what I was thinking" sort of things. last night, bob wanted to get something to eat so we went for a walk to get some... (end part two)

jay-n-liz

2007-02-09T22:15:00.000-08:00

this is my life this is my mistake...
colin: blah blah blah
me: no no no... let me read it on your fucking blog
this is me drunk, this is me at my most honest.
jay and liz are talking girl shop in the kitchen right now...
liz: well what if she is????
jay: you should come over for a spectacular freak out... I have gained a new found love for darts... come on liz you should play darts with me
liz: I took my contacts out
jay: just aim for the big circle... come on liz you should... look at me i'm awesome two bulls-eyes

crawfish etuofee, eh too fee... eh too fyeh

2007-02-04T08:24:00.000-08:00

ken, a retired chemistry teacher from new hampshire, "is this a rave?".
"no" and I shove a bottle of beer in his hand and take a drink from mine. club brasil on frenchman street has a half a high school marching band on stage. misty, who asked me if I needed anything from the bar comes back with a cup for ken. "here drink this too." I say handing the plastic cup to ken. He does not complain and drinks both, god bless him. this is not my scene. I feel old in this place. i have an old soul. misty and andrew from the o.c. who have watched the show, i asked, are standing watching the band. They enjoy music, it's their passion and have taken ken and i around to these amazing bars with live bands. soul sucking jazz, i didn't even think I liked jazz, and then we ended up here... their favorite band is dave matthews which makes me feel quietly superior.
john wilks booth, his real name, talks about st. bernard parish. the water rose six feet in the space of a half hour. some of the fire fighters from the parish come in and talk about what happened. they were abandoned. the national guard was occupied at the super dome. people broke into the boat storage warehouse and took the boats. they rescued each other. they swam out their kitchen windows. they broke into the crawl space in their house and dragged their mother in law and sister up in there with them and then sat on the roof for four days waiting to be rescued.
Many people did not have flood insurance. the insurance company would pay to replace to the roof. one of the kids from americorp gets dysentery. we all find this funny, comical. "what is dysentery anyways?" one of the americorp kids said he felt sick and had a headache. "that's dysentery?" in the oregon trail game people were always dropping dead from that shit. you didn't have time to shoot two squirrels without little peggy sue dropping dead from dysentery. i fantasize about my own death: you guys go on without me... i'd only slow you down handing over my ryobi power drill with rechargeable battery pac... I got the... I got the dysentery.
i listen to npr on the way home. it seems to be the only radio station i can find. If I ever post a personal ad on the chicago reader i can put my radio is tuned to npr. i am interesting and intelligent... love me now. they talked about how president bush did not mention katrina or rebuilding the gulf coast and how some people were upset about his state of the union speech. by the end of the week, we have moved on to mudding. mudding is, surprised again, what i call spackle... and does not wash out of clothes. i enjoy walking around with these huge spots of mud on my jacket and jeans, like i'm out there doing things... look at me.
mike from project hope, not to be confused with camp hope which sounded ominous at first but is actually a very nice place has been here for the last seven months. first he was gutting houses and now rebuilding. he hasn't shaved since he got down here and is a hippy, his word not mine, he is working for free and is living on the kindness of the community.
everyone helps each other, it is a very blue collar neighborhood. an electrician who live down the street rewires his neighbor's house who is a carpenter, or knows something about carpentry. hopper, the carpenter, in turn, comes into this man's house and puts up braces and jacks, and raises this guy's roof to where it was before the storm surge hit. the force of the water moved brick houses down the street. this house leans awkwardly to the left. hopper begins turning the jack and the roof begins to groan. we're all underneath the center beam holding it above our heads in place. hopper pauses for a second and tells us to take a look around and plan our escape route if the roof decides to go, we laugh and then nervously look around. I reposition myself closer to the door this time and he starts cranking the jack again.

have you found jesus? he's hiding behind the couch

2007-01-31T13:38:00.000-08:00

driving through mississippi listening to tupelo honey on a radio station broadcasting from get this... tupelo. now mind you i thought the new england patriots were from the wonderful state of new england. 'sigh' the quaint state. why would a professional football team create a fictitious state and then pretend to come from there??? it just doesn't make sense. i stayed and lived in st bernard parish population 20,000 down from 76,000. one of the levees broke a street down from where we are working on, daniel's house, installing sheet rock and insulation and then eventually mud. sheet rock i found out is just dry wall, like kleenex is a kind of facial tissue. I make a lot of unnecessary holes in daniel's sheet rock. I try to make my mistakes while daniel is not around. as a doctor the one thing you're trained not to say... 'oops'. most of the day daniel is at work, he's a welder and mercifully not a carpenter. seventeen months after the hurricane he still live in his fema trailer behind his house. about every fifth house has one of these trailers in front or on the side of a home the rest of the homes are left deserted rotting from the inside. daniel's trailer is a sort of all plastic rv camper, think small. think tiny. It smells exactly like my parent's neighbor's house. this fact drives me insane. that smell reminds me of leather couches and baby sitting and all the cherry coca- cola and cable television i could want. i want to ask daniel if it's some kind of plug in or scent strip or something. i get bit by a spider, several times, and my hand swells up to this size of a medium grape fruit. the brown recluse spider they tell us in orientation is the cousin to the black widow. it will not kill you but the third day is very bad they tell us... very bad. I am popping benadryl tablets like bright pink tic tacs thinking if i was dying i think i would know it, it would hurt a lot more. my hand would fall off first or something... then again it is only day two. shit

the big easy mac

2007-01-12T08:46:00.000-08:00

i'm leaving tomorrow for new orleans... nah ahleans... norleans... nah-lens
the conversation i had not two minutes ago with the "camp hope" lady who answered the phone (camp hope is the place I'll be living at for two weeks and then I'll just commute to the habitat for humanity work site by car)
chlwap: camp hope
me: hey, my name is Sir Henry Oglepants I did all of this online so I was just checking, I was looking at your guys website and there's an orientation that sunday before work on monday.
chlwap: That's right, so you need to get here before five on sunday and make sure to bring an extra blanket and some warm clothes. You're probably going to need a jacket. It's kind of cold down here.
me: that's okay i'm from chicago...
chwalp: the group from Minnesota whose here is bitching about the cold... we don't have heat.

11 jAn 2007

2007-01-10T16:27:00.000-08:00

I think woody allen said it best: life is full of loneliness, misery, and suffering and it's all over much too soon
act one/ scene one:
Celery was laying on the floor in the living room sucking a Peach menthol ciggarette, and bob was in the bathroom with several dried makers in the sink and his shirt up over his head. She shouted down the hallway "what are you doing in there?" Bob inspecting a red flair, looked into the mirror and began filling the dark circle that was six inches down and to the left of one his nipples. "I'm giving myself a third nipple." Turning his attention back to what was going on in the bathroom he finished up and satisfied with the results spoke to no one in particular "I am a freak. I'm damaged goods."
Celery took a cracked coffee mug and swirling the last of its contents of cough syrup and coca cola drank it in three mouthfuls. "Okay whatever, just don't be beating off in my sink- because you never rinse out the bowl and I don't want your man juice all over my fake marble counter top." Bob stumbled out of the bathroom with a fistful of markers working his stained t-shirt back over his head. "Here you go, I cleaned up with this. You might want to wash it in bleach and then burn it" throwing a yellow dishtowel in celery's direction, bob marched to the kitched and came back a few second later with a crumpled paper bag which after popping off the remaining marker’s caps with his teeth dropped into the bag and inhaled deeply. Celery curled the ends of her mouth into a smile “Here you go you little nancy you dropped this” holding up the rag “and by the way I have at least, I’d say… two std’s that you haven’t even heard of, so I’m not worried.”
The apartment was like all apartments anonymous, badly lit, smelling of over ripe bananas wrapped in wet newspapers, filled with lead paint chips. “They called it the devil’s dandruff” celery whispered to herself, pulling a white chip of the wall the size and shape of a silver dollar and popped it into her mouth. “so did you want to get something to eat?” Celery pulled herself up to a sitting position “I don’t know it sounds kind of over rated.” Bob grabbed his coat off the ground by the door and spinning around twice managed to find his keys under a pile of dirty clothes and a burnt phone book “Come on, it could be an adventure.” Celery pulled on her shoes and after tying the laces together shuffled to the door. The door closed behind them, but wasn’t locked and they walked out on to the street and into a torrential downpour, celery with her laces tied together shuffling after bob. (end scene one)

reasons to create a blog: part two

2007-01-04T20:48:00.000-08:00

jay: I don't know if I did
colin: jay, you have a cold not Alzheimer

this is my life this is my mistake
tell me a story a good story...
there once was a man who gave up everything he knew to become something he wasn't the end.
you can never go home but you can always shop there...

reasons to create a blog: part one

2007-01-02T12:07:00.000-08:00

a conversation...
me "my life barely entertains me"
colin "I find your life mildly entertaining. I mean wildly entertaining."