Sideways On an Escalator

Cooler than water as sleet, the room refreshed my awakening body. My mind was still in the dream-time and would not come around to the day until far after lunchtime, but there at work I would be, waiting, talking, listening, writing; oblivious to the good things in the air, only noticing the horrid traces of beuracracy threaded into every ink on the paper, and every ounce of backwash in coffee mugs.

My clothes fit for once. The secret to the diet was there is no diet. I eat what I want, then, work it all off. Sometimes it feels like an honor to sweat, only because of my bizarre metabolism. I run six miles and gain eight pounds. I stop running, lift heavy weights, and lose ten. In between, the food that has willingly grown numb to taste. It's no longer food, it's chemistry; always has been chemistry, but I never knew it until that summer shortly after Ed's death.

"Where are you right now?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"You stopped breathing. You're thinking too hard again."

Learning Curve

I hate school.

I've been saying that most of my life.

I love learning. Knowledge is serious power, but I loathe the confinement and judging standards of the modern educational system. Then, once graduating from high school, having someone tell me that I need a pathetic piece of papaer not fit to wipe my ass with in order to do something important in this world - - fuck that. But I did it, and now, I'm at it again. Why? I have to get away from people. I don't like them. I need to make enough money to insure that I can escape them anytime I choose. Not just mentally, not just in my home; I mean physically, running to the mountains, or secreting myself in a cave.

Education is important, but the kind forced kids' throats these days, I don't believe it is, but that's from a purely consciencious perspective. Money isn't important to alot of people. I don't care for having "nice things." There are times that I can do without the roof over my head, and settle for the sky and clouds as my domestic apex. Then again, I'm two steps away from clinical depression, anxiety, and all around (everyone's favorite) insanity. Point being, I don't agree, conform, or prefer today's society, or what is considered the standard, or "normal." And I do like knowing that I can have a roof over my head, shoud I want one.

My perfect world would be the end of this one. Bring it all down. Kill the internet, destroy mass communication; adjourn the need for money. It's time to go back to basics.

It's probably not happening soon, or it could likely occur sooner than we think.

The Associated Press did a study, claiming 1 out of 4 adults did not read a single book in 2006. At first, that sounds disturbing, but that's me thinking as an avid reader. But I relaxed and thought about it. A)Polls are always foibled. In all truth, they mean nothing, and sometimes less. B)What kind of books were read? Kids books, like parents would read to their children? Comic books? Cook books? The phone book?

I ask myself, would I prefer a conversation with someone who has studied a book about fishing in Alaska? Or would I prefer a conversation with someone who has never read a book, but has fished in Alaska?

Reading is for those that love to read. Living is for those that love to live. Either way, you learn. I love both. I learn every day.

Humid

There's a chill trekking along my spine. Voices, a plethora of them, screaming, crying; not a single one sounding like the fear is coming from vision - the abhorrence emanates from their mind.

Willis walked those hallways with the care of a puppy in a garage. The same old places to sniff, eat, and piss, but at any moment, that door can open and the largest tank could come rolling through. Will it see him? Will it care?

The giraffe that used to be a poster for the National Fitness Test smiled, while worms fell from its mouth. The light coming from the ground, well, it just wasn't cool enough. Dashing water on himself didn't seem to help any. It only amplified the humidity that started out smaller than a snail sweat.

His watch beeped. It was loud. It chimed deep into his temporal lobe. It was time for the purple pills that crawled up his arm.

The Shit I Think of When I'm Exhausted

I have lost confidence in my work. I can't write a fucking query letter. A FUCKING QUERY LETTER. I can't write a less than eight sentences telling someone what my book is about. I can't decide where the comma goes, whether I should use a semi-colon or just start a new sentence all together.

I see new pieces of shit every week on the bookshelves and say, why can't my piece of shit be the future laughing stock of the bargain bin? Dan Brown gets away with it. Every jackass cranking out event-centered-historical-fiction gets away with it. I want to be able to pry your hard earned money from your hands, then, force you to read the tripe that a twelve year old with a north eastern education could have pissed through a fountain pen after a slushee bender, and force you to ask yourself "why did I buy this piece of shit again?"

What's not a piece of shit? Greg Rucka's newest Atticus Kodiak novel comes out tomorrow - Patriot Acts.

"Hell Everywhere"

At least seven people have been detained or arrested for their potential involvement in the fires that have consumed over half of Greece.

Arsonists seeking to clear land for development are believed to cause most fires. While building in forest areas is banned, land may be re-classified after a fire, letting developers move in.

This disturbs me to no end. Nearly 60 people have died; a mother charred mother and her four children were found. She smothered them with herself, protecting them from the flames.

And Olympia is in danger. The sight of the first Olympic games stands before the destructive force of a radical inferno.

I'm not an advocate of The Olympics. I dabble in combat sports, mostly training, competition now and again, but I am a fan of history and that deteriorating quality established centuries ago known as honor.

I can imagine how horrible the people of Peloponnese must feel, but I may never know; I would not want to know. Their helplessness magnified by looking to their government with betrayed laiden eyes. Greece is not a rich country, or even a financially stable one. They have little money, relying on the commerce of tourists as the country's primary source of income, and now they may believe that they have even less hope.

Look around you. Where are you? If you are alive, if you have a home, if you know love, enjoy it, cherish it; leave me be - I'm disgusted.

Up Into the Sky

You said you were trying to cope, but the downtime depressed you. It wasn't the life you were accustomed to. You couldn't grow flowers from inside the house. You couldn't breathe nature's air from a bed.

Then, you tricked us; made believe everything was alright. You asked for the window to be opened. We turned around to pull the curtains, and you were already up in the sky.

A Good Man

Just got back from a wake. A good friend's father passed away last night. No work tonight, the whole thing took too much out of me, more than I certainly anticipated.

Friend's dad was a good man, a hard worker, and loved his family to the fullest extent.

Will be in San Antonio this weekend. Do something I'm too scarred to do (yes, scarred): tell those closest to you that you love them.

Cheers.

Confession

I attempt to destroy every good thing that comes my way. It's practically a reaction. I'm not against happiness, but if I'm not miserable, then I don't know I'm alive.

I need to give me a break and keep some good for a change, but first, I need to make it, then, I'll try it. I'm inclined to agree; happiness is an illusion made by man, misery is the truth.

Too much Immanuel Kant.

Can't Concentrate

Can't concentrate for shit.

My mind is split a million different avenues; has been for the past few days. The book is done, now I need to get the letter to the agent, but I'm not having the best of luck getting it to read the way it should. I can do it for everyone else, but not myself? What the fuck?

Story of my life.

All I want is a small house in the mountains, surrounded by an electric fence mounted with motion censor triggered assault rifles. Behind the fence: man-eating wolves, and a bridge-less moat filled with crocodiles, preferably crocodiles because they are more aggressive than alligators.

Madness in Love

Why she keeps popping up in my head, I don't know.
Why she's the last person I think about before passing out
After trying to drown the passion out of my system,
I don't know.
Why I wanted to be with her when she drove me insane,
Tested my temper;
Pissed me off
Every time we were together - -
It didn't change that I loved her for it
Every waking moment.

Funniest Thing I've Heard All Day

Jessica Alba Might Have Herpes.

The 'Fantastic Four' star - recently voted FHM's Sexiest Woman Alive 2007 - previously dated New York Yankees baseball star Derek Jeter and during their relationship she allegedly contracted the sexually transmitted disease.

Buildings

The body behind me was just that - a body. It had stopped being a person about twenty minutes ago. Three days prior, I would've been rumagging through its pockets, picking out whatever money was in there, but now after the explosions leveled the country, killing millions - money seemed kinda moot.

Maybe I should get it, just in case.

Another explosion. The ground shook, once from the detonation, again from the building's collapse.

Wish I had some cake right about now.

Lonely Beneath the Bridge

Walking through the garden.
The flowers smell so sweet,
The rain was kind to them
Over the summer.

Strolling across the bridge,
A voice howled underneath.
"Come play with me."
"Are you mad?"
I said. "Are you
Lost in the drift?"

It was lonely,
It was frightened,
And it was below the bridge.

Too Soon

Have been slowed down by a string of deaths lately, most notably the wonderful artist Mike Wieringo. He was a kind man, with a magical ability to put his imagination on paper. He was 44 - died of a heart attack.

R.I.P. Mike Wieringo.

Currently Reading

If I wrote a book about pool:

How I spend my vacation...

Or...How David payed for college (Volume 3).

Discovery of Middle Asia Cities Recasts Ancient History

New discoveries at dig sites in Middle Asia are rocking the archeological world and redefining the origins of modern civilization.

Note to Self...

Start investing in adult diapers. Less bathroom breaks, the more work you get done.

Woo-Hoo

Boyfriend dancing, singing woo-whoo, while strutting the rhythms of a funky chicken.

He lost a bet with his girlfriend.

Random Thoughts

- If I walk across this room, will I have just aged twenty feet?

- If they can tint a car's window, can't they just tint the Earth's perimeter?

- That is one ugly child.

- Just because your baby is mesmerised by a computer does not mean it will be a technical wizard. Just because it smiles when a camera goes off does not mean they will be a model or a photographer.

If I were to take a pile of crap, poor glitter all over it, and bounce light off of it, I'm pretty sure the child would emit the same reaction as it would to a computer or a camera.

Maybe, just maybe, your kid likes really shiny, bright shit.

2 Shrews, 2 Frogs, A Rodent, and A Bat Walk Into The Existence Bar...

In a once-lost forest in Africa, six animal species new to science have been discovered, members of a two-month expedition now reveal, including a bat, a rodent, two shrews and two frogs.

Tombstones By the Lake

Trevor dislikes it when people say we, and they expect him to be involved in that we. There are very few people he has ever believed in we, and for one reason or another, he has broken up with most of them.

Then there was tonight. It was another night out with Shrill, but Shrill had past his liquor limit long before calling Trevor. Trevor had been ready - he had movies ready to watch back home.

Driving back, Trevor lit up a cigarette. It took him 3 months to finish one pack. He wasn't a chain smoker, or a even a frequent one. It was usually a spontaneous thing. Sometimes he used it just a reason to cruise around.

Once, near Mexico, Trevor found two unmarked tombstomes beneath a tree near a lake. It made him crave a cigarette for the first time in twelve years. He'll never tell which lake. One day he wants to go back there and smoke a cigarette. He wants it to still be there - alone, undisturbed - he is afraid once he tells someone where it is exactly, it will disappear.

Rubber Food

I have just consumed pieces of a turkey built like an ostrich that seems to have attempted an escape from its executioners by donning a rubber wetsuit and diving into the ocean. It must have not been unaware of its incapablity to swim. And when the stalkers finally fished it out, they decided to cook it in the wet suit.

I took one bight and my jaw recoiled nearly locking itself. I'd walk around like a poor soul that had just seen his grandmother in a bukkake film with midgets, zebras, and their former wrestling coach.

Meat inside was salvagble. Seriously, the thing's leg was the sive of my forearm.

China tells living Buddhas to obtain permission before they reincarnate.

The ban is included in new rules intended to assert Beijing’s authority over Tibet’s restive and deeply Buddhist people.

Help Me

A young, don't-know-better called me a genious this morning. I made them gag on their own fingers.

I don't respond to complements very well.

Something Else

What is your vision? Sometimes, being a Gemini, I feel damned, but damned for what? What is your vision?

The beauty of the net: Pieces of my mind, thought, beliefs; they are everywhere. There is no more mainstream. The net is the mainstream. Once it's on the web, it's no longer underground. Everything we do, we say; every act that is commited - beastiality, murder, taboo sex, porno, shooting heroine in our eyelids - nothing is sacred, and very little remains taboo, if anything.

I frighten people. I didn't realise it until last night when I was standing in the grocery line. A gigantic white boy, waiting with his lover took one look at me and said GAWD DAMN!! That boy's big.

I never thought myself to be a large individual, but when regulars at the gym start looking at you, and their retinas begin to protrude past their facial lids - you know you're big. You know you're a freak, you know you are something else. I don't care if I'm something special. Fuck special. I'd rather be something Else.

Fried Lizard

Awakening was acrid on the eyes, while it wasn't until the morning struck his pupils that Phillip realised the sheer awfulness of a day beginning.

He reached for the stand to grab his cigarettes, gingerly avoiding the wall, even in his vomitous state. He touched the fried lizard embedded into the wall to turn on the lamp the previous night, and had no intentions of grazing his flesh against its burnt pungent scales again. He felt the box, grabbed a smoke, and lit up.

Phillip hobbled to the bathroom, again picking where he touched quite carefully. He brushed his teeth amongst the exploded entrails of thousands of smashed insects, arachnids, and other species of prickling vermin.

He spit, rinsed, and continued huffing on the nicotine stick as if it were the only true breakfast of champions.

Back in the bed, he wanted to catch more sleep, but smoking woke him up to the fullest. He soon found himself in the mood for breakfast. If he had judged the food in this motel by the black abyss consuming the pit that was supposed to have water fr a swimming pool, he was better off eating the fried lizard.

Does It Spit Acid Too?

Acquired a new phone today. there are people willing to give me money, and in order for them to obtain me and my head of useless knowledge, and sometimes helpful if only charming anecdotes, there must be a portable voice message system where they can tell the available digital space that they are willing to give me money.

What? Talk to them? You're funny.

While waiting for the silver substance, which honest to god, I've swallowed pills larger than this thing, and probably for less harmful diseases than I'll get because of this phone - but walking in, waiting, one would think I was either buying a plane ticket or some righteously impressive heroine in England. Truly and odd experience on both counts.

My clothes do not match my brain, though they are patterened after my "bomb my house, I don't care" philosophy, which rides parallel with my "speak to me, I obliterate your sanity" ideology. The hostess - there's a bloody hostess for a phone shop - she took one look at me, her eyes said he can't afford us, he shouldn't be here, while my eyes responded with, not today - I know twelve ways to paralyze you, where you are standing, using only the pen in my pocket, and I'm quickly working on number thirteen. Maybe it was my smile that calmed her down.

Everything else went smoothly, though nowadays one cannot get just a phone. It has to be a portable entertainment unit that fits inside your pocket, otherwise the normals in society will label you inhumane; as one fitting to be cast back to the stone age to be sodomized by giant lizards despite giant lizards they are thinking of never existing in the stone age.

But gee my phone is pretty.

More Research

The last song to ever make me wet myself in fright. Skinny Puppy's "The Killing Game" grabbed my heart, stretching its harmonized, vibrating tentacles through my arteries, splitting to my brain and testicles. The ascending appendages squeezed my eyes, forcing out tears as it stunned the frontal portions of my brain - this song knows where fear is created - and I cried while the descending half slapped my bladder until there was nothing left but bile the leftover from the edible chum that sticks to the sides of the intestine.

After, I could never walk past a keyboard without urinating until I bled, and puking until my retinas burned with such ferocity I was driven to splash my face with the coolest liquid nearby, often times toilet water, shouting, "I am not immune! Can't you see?! I am not immune!!" in between the rounds of heaving food chunks.