Monday, May 30, 2005

Sun Burn

People everywhere are sunburnt.
Freshely pinked arms, necks, cheeks.
Winter white skin revealed, when
Clothes fold, bunch--retreat.

That band of pink,
Dividing red flesh from white,
Is a map of seasons: motion, heat.
A country I'd like to visit.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

When Bus Drivers Attack

There is this video all over the place of a bus driver "attacking" a kid. In the video a 14 year old boy calls the bus driver a mother fucker--he also pushes and punches him. My parents would have beat me to a bloody pulp if I ever talked to an adult that way. I was to refer to adults as sir or maam, mr. or mrs., never mother fucker. I applaud the bus driver. If I was a politician I would try and get a law passed, not only making it legal to beat children, but tax deducable. My mom works at a middle school. I fear for her safty.

Friday, May 27, 2005

Day Hike

I hiked around near Clayton Beach out on Chuckanut Drive this, a glorious summer day. The temperature hit 80 degrees for the first time all year and not a cloud in the sky. I walked the railroad tracks and then after many miles, vertically through the woods, ended up at Fragrance lake, a quite little lake high in the hills. Western Washington, especially Whatcom and Skagit counties, is the most beautiful place on earth. I really am blessed to live here. To be on the top of a forested hill top and look down on the San Juan Islands...Well it is what I would imagine heaven to be. Uh, but, uh, it rains a lot. Stay away.

Things I saw today on my adventure:

Four old women hiking in the woods. Good for them.

An Eagle. It swooped literally 10 feet over my head and then circled me. I stood still and listened to the wind go through his wings.

A hobo cooking lunch in a barrel. It smelled wonderful.

A yellow finch perched in a tree branch. When I squinted my eyes, he disappeared, blending in. He looked just like a leave lit up with sun. He was a summer bird.

A lizard. A snake. A dead fish on the railroad tracks, dropped there by some picky seagull.

Starfish, Jellyfish, a nation of barnacles.

muscle farmers out on the mud-flats.

I stumbled upon a group of nude sun bathers. Probably ten of ''em, chatting away, getting crispy. Friendly bunch. I kept flawless eye contact while exchanging salutations .

Bigfoot. No not really. But I had my eyes peeled.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Old Spice High Endurance

The bus pulled up right beside me and her doors burst open with a starship door hiss. It was a nice day, I planned on walking to school but the serpent whispered in my ear, "take the bus. Later, have some carrot cake with ice cream on top." I got on the bus. I realized immediately that it was a mistake--to small a space for so many people. I was trapped. There was a shadow puppet show of tree branches covered in flickering leaves, dancing over the blank faces of the passengers and over the yellow and red safety stickers stuck on the cold metal ceiling. I sat down in the seat closest to the door. A kid behind me shouted into his cell phone, oblivious to all the universe, "Shit ya. Dude. No way, I was so fucked up--I was waaa-sted." I turned quickly. I could help. Perhaps he didn't realize how rude he was being. He would appreciate a helpful social que.

It wasn't that he was unaware of his rudeness, it was that he didn't care. He shot me look that said, mind your own business. I turned in my seat trying to make eye contact with a sympathetic passenger. Is there anybody out there? I'll know the look when I see it. A look of recognition; yes, indeed things should be different; your on to something; let's burn something down, let's build something up. How rare it is for people to even look at each other in the eye today. The passengers on the bus averted their eyes, dialed their cell phones, tried to look busy with their techno gadgets. Their eyes weren't busy though, there was nothing behind their eyes.

I got off the bus a stop early. The bus drove away with my shadow, my stretchy shadow, bending and rattling all through the inside of the moving bus.

2:30: introduction to linguistics. A fascinating subject made dull once again. Why oh why can't we talk about the tower of Babel, about an emerging cyber language, about, about, about, origins, what is we're all doing when we talk and talk and talk, and why we don't talk anymore? Instead I got a preaching to about Ebonics and how it should be recognized as an official language. How boring. Diversity, oppression, equality...not that these things aren't important, just seems like they're self evident, like they shouldn’t need to be talked about ad noisome. I get it already. Put me on the moon, let me plant a flag on Titan. Let’s do something worth writing about.

I walked out of class early. I walked into the woods, a place I've been wandering to more and more. I sat on the hill and read a little from Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. I guess she won the Pulitzer Prize. I just discovered her the other day on a dusty top shelf at the used bookstore. This passage leapt off the page it rings so true.

"Once I visited a great university and wandered, a stranger, into the subterranean halls of its famous biology department. I saw a sign on the door: ichthyology department. The door was open a crack, and as I walked past I glanced in. I saw just a flash. There were two white-coated men seated opposite each other on high lab stools at a hard surfaced table. They bent over identical white enamel trays. On one side, one man, with a lancet, was just cutting into an enormous preserved fish he'd taken from a jar. On the other side, the other man, with a silver spoon, was eating a grapefruit. I laughed all the way back to Virginia."

Sunday, May 22, 2005

To Whom It May Concern:

I recieve a piece of your dead-tree-spam at least once a week in my mail box, carried here by my kind mail-lady, Penny. How many trees must be slaughtered, flattened, bleached, and inked before you money grubbers finally understand that I don't want your damn credit card? America is trillions of dollars in debt and still you credit card companies send paper and slips of plastic to my home, enticing me to sell my soul for a garage full of shit I don't need with 25% interest attached to it. I've paid off my debt. I'm done. Quit, I repeat, quit sending me junk mail. Forget I ever existed. For Christ's sake, be American.

Humbly, yet Furiously, Yours,

John Q. American

Saturday, May 21, 2005


Went and saw Revenge of the Sith Last night. Got there 40 minutes early and still was in the back of the line. Had to sit in the front row. There should be some sort of treaty signed among sci-fi nerds everywhere: No camping out allowed...30 minutes before the show is plenty of time.

I read an article yesterday, (it's on RedNova if you want to look for it) it pointed out that science fiction geeks are going to have to live in a world with out Star Trek and Star Wars, both franchises ending this month. A nerd dark age.

There is another. Narnia is coming out. It looks amazing. (Doesn't really qualify as sci-fi nerdiness, but it will give me a reason for living none the less; especially if they continue on with the series and do Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and Horse and His Boy.)

Ok, Sith. I liked it. Light saber fighting has gotten out of control. This movie was basically one big light saber fight. We've seen enough of that before. But the parts where there was actually dialogue, especially between Anikan and Palpatine, were great. The dark music and the magical computer graphics almost turned me to the darkside during balcony scene.

It kind of made me sad though, the way it ended. Social commentary for our times. Confusion, who is right, who is wrong. Political deception, misplaced patriotism, relativism, absolutism. In the eighties we had Ewoks dancing on the Berlin wall, a new hope that America would lead the world into peace and prosperity. Today we have Vadar crawling up the side of a crumbly gravel pit, limbless and burning alive, one mechanical arm trying to pull himself out.


One more thing, during the nail biting Dookoo light saber battle at the very begining, when that heavy steel banister fell on Obiwans torso and he lay there unconscious only to be waken a minute later with no ruptured organs or crushed vertibrate, was that a joke?

Wednesday, May 18, 2005


I went for a suburban hike last week. A mid morning weekday--everyone else at their jobs. I just walked and walked, finally able to break away from school and people and just day dream. I decided to go somewhere where I have never walked before. Explore. After three and a half years in this small city I have been most everywhere. I picked out a forested hill on the horizon and walked straight for it. I got to the edge of the wood, found a stylized walking (wizard's) staff and climbed into the forest. The Cotton Woods were shedding. Dry, fertile, fluffy, flakes, and me, a silent samurai, choosing the quite path, tip-toeing over twigs, the balls of my feet aiming at moist ground, the birds, chirping, unaware or unthreatened by my mossy presence. I continued that way, in awe of the way the light sneaked through the canopy: red light, green light; Half pretending that I had traveled back in time to when everything was forest, when the hum of I-5 wasn't unnoticed background music in people's minds--before there were minds; half pretending to be an avatar in a game of staggering video graphics.

I continued this way for a while, ignoring the track houses bumping right up against the woods--convincing myself that my foot prints were special, that I was going where no man had gone before--the moon--the forest moon of Endour. And that my boot prints were the first bipedal, hand crafted, boot marks the moon had ever seen--that I wasn't walking on a gravel path with barbeque pits to my right and park signs saying keep out on my left. Keep out of the park. The park. Then I found it. A quite lagoon nestled in a valley in the woods. The creek falling over the high rocks above, feeding a pool below. Rocks the size of twin sized beds surrounded the water, theater seating for lazy animals to lay and listen to the sound of the falls. I laid down. The hum of I-5 was gone, replaced by the fizzly sound of the falls vibrating at the same frequency as the background radiation. Water: the mother energy. I don't know if it was as good as all that but hey, I had an afternoon off and I was laying out in the woods. The water could have been singing me songs if I wanted it to. I fell asleep. I may have shut my eyes for seconds or forever. It was a wonderful nap. My new favorite place, I thought, I will come here often.

This weekend I told Andy, "lets go for a hike, I found this wonderful place." We got to the woods, two guys chatting. We were talking about work or such, chewing the fat. I wasn't feeling the samurai, snow falling, meditation stuff this time around. Track housing yeah, yeah, Saturday afternoon joggers, yeah yeah. People all over the place. "This place is different on the weekend. “I tell him. "Yeah," he says I've been out here with Nicole.

We got to the lagoon. An empty cardboard case of beer and empty beer cans are littered around the little beach. I wasn't picking up a sense of the mother energy, more like a vibe of: behind-the-7-11-caution-my-life-might-be-in-danger. "Yep, I've been here... this is Whatcom falls," he says.

Whatcom Falls? The Whatcom falls, where teenagers get drunk and dive off the falls? Oh God.

We sat there a while. I ate an apple. People started showing up. Striping down. Jumping in the water. High school kids. Long hairs. The place is crawling with long hairs. Noise. The guys are taking the thirty foot dive from the top of the falls as their girlfriends look on excitedly. Any illusions I had about exploration in suburbia are gone by that point. No Endour moon. No samurai honor codes. No bird songs. My entire vision of the place had changed. It wasn't bad. It was fun watching the divers, hell, maybe I'll dive in one day. Just different that’s all.

Monday, May 16, 2005

We Are Borg

I am sitting in a trendy coffee shop drinking coffee from a porcelain bucket. I'm listening to MP3 files of Art Bell's radio program I downloaded into my IPod this morning. He is interviewing a cellular biologist about consciousness. For a brief moment I become aware of being thoughtless, that there is a conversation in my head that I am not participating in but still absorbing, that the voices in my head aren't mine at all. I cross my legs and waggle my feet: a conscious effort to be in control of my actions.

The Side Effects of Mind Melding

I read Douglas Coupland's, All Families Are Psycho, today. Once I started I couldn't put it down. Reading a good character novel like that always makes me feel sad when I finish, like driving away from family as they wave goodbye in the driveway after visiting on vacation.

Saturday, May 14, 2005


Movies on the internet are getting better all the time.

Store Wars

Friday, May 13, 2005

Rock Biter

The friendly voice that informs shoppers of deals in the produce section or bakery etc, is getting more intensely friendly. It sounds like she is being held at gun point while being screamed at, “act euphorically happy or die bitch!” The voice has to be louder to compete with the ear tingling trump of Candy Dulfer jazz. I was almost frigtened to death when a voice in the cieling shouted down at me, "Why hello there happy shoppers. This week in our produce department you will find deliciously ripe tomatoes for the miracoulous price of-- 79 cents. I say tomato, you say tomate-o. We are happy, happy, happy."

Stores are to insanely loud to even go in anymore.

We‘re going to have to eat asphalt in the future. There won't be any food that is for sure. Every nano meter of space is being paved over. They are erecting strip malls all over the place. Not really strip malls, there aren't any strips of land left, more like point malls. One lot filled with three tiny buildings the size of my kitchen. Can they fit anything worthwhile in a space like that?

I just don't get it. I just walked through a ghost town of a strip mall yesterday. It had an early nineteen nineties architectural design so I know the thing can't be that old. No business there now--just FOR LEASE signs in the windows and weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt. Next to that strip mall was a business park with a early nineteen 80's design. The weeds had spread to the door frames in that place.

This new point mall has been under construction for the last couple months. I have been really curious to who was going to move into the cramped space. It's built on a microscopic piece of land that used to be a small field of blackberry bushes. I was blown away when I discovered who would be moving in: A karate dojo, a hair salon, and a fingernail place. Unbelievable. We paved over the last half acre of plant life in the city for a nail salon? Sad thing is this place is going to be a ghost town by next year.

I am continually amazed by modern society.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

A New Reason For Living

2007...Star Wars re-rerelease in 3-friggen-D!

White Room

I took a tour of a new apartment in my dreams. Big spacey rooms. Exposed rusted plumbing fixtures. Wires dangling out of the walls. Everything painted white. Round airlocks for doors. Vaulted cielings.

Who designed that building? Where did it come from? I didn't design it. Did I?

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Vegtable Juice Junkie

I'm not thinking strait. I'm not even sure what day it is. Hmm, I don't remember having a beard. The kitchen counters are covered in carrot pulp, apple stems, banana peels, cabbage--all in various stages of decomposition. The shiny flecks in the linoleum don’t conceal the puddles of vegetable juice that have collected under the juicer and dripped onto the floor. If I listen hard enough in the silence I can hear the sound of the rotting process. It is the sound of air bubbles popping on the surface of molecular sized swamps. I catch a distorted reflection of myself in the metallic trim of the coffee pot. There are bits of celery in my mustache, and I’m wearing a red, painted on smile, maybe from a swig of beet juice. My skin has an orangish tint to it.

Flashbacks, visions, I remember standing in a field, maybe it was here in the kitchen, but there was soil. Rich dark soil under my bare feet. Between my toes. I remember sinking. My feet dividing, snaking, curling about, swimming in the dirt. And me, stretching tall, drinking in sun juice. My arms raised above me plucking spongy sunrays from the sky. Adapting, waving, changing. Sweet god! Green leafy arms fluttering like a kite on a breezy day.

The phone rings.


“Yes Matthew, this is James from, the union of electrical workers. How are you doing this afternoon?”

I'm peeling back the blinds. He’s right. It is afternoon. The sun is preposterously bright. My eyes feel new, like they’ve never seen the sun before.


“We’ve picked out a great package that we would like to send out to you. Now, Matthew, what is your work schedule like?”

Is this a home invader inquiring about a good time to rob my apartment? I’ve never been affiliated with The Electric Workers Union before.

“I work in the afternoons.”

Wait it is afternoon now. I don’t even work. Was I a tomato plant last night? Where am I?

“I can work you in to my six o’clock slot this evening Matthew. You still live at 2345 Sycamore Street?”

He has my address. Look at this place. My God. Wait--he has my address. Why? Get out Matt. Get the fuck out.

“Not interested”


Monday, May 09, 2005

Cigarette Update

Three months ago, I looked down and noticed I was developing a gut. A gut, on a otherwise thin man, is scary and cartoonish. I thought, this isn't good at all being a pale, lanking, cartoon tub of ass. So, with cigarette in hand, I went down to join the YMCA, the least threatening gym available as far as buff guys strutting around in striped spandex goes. So I worked out, started to feel good. After the gym I'd come home and have my after gym smoke. Well I quickly realized that smoking and working out don't mix--that it just made running harder. It is amazing the things you start to notice about your body when you actually use it. So I quit smoking. That was almost, what, two months ago. But I still liked my pasta and Mickey D's. I'd ussually go to Mc's for lunch and then try to burn the poison off later on the treadmill. Again--I realized working out and eating Mc's is a contradiction. So I cut out all junk food. Wadaya-know? Two weeks of that and the gut was gone. I could walk up a hill with out a desire to die. I was feeling better!

I heard a guy on the radio the other night that took it even further. "Want a psychodelic experience" he asks, "go raw." Hey I would love to trip balls without frying my brain in the process. I'd like to see the big picture in hyper color with out scaring people away with red, glossy eyed stares. This guy, David Wolfe, has eaten nothing but raw fruits and vegatbles for over 10 years. He can't understand how Americans are even alive with the diet we eat. We are so bogged down with processed foods that we have lost the ability to see the world how it really is. Big Macs, cigarettes, Mountain Dew--these things are foging our minds, not to mention making "the man" rich (yes, there is a man). I fasted once for three days. My head was so clear, I felt like I could "break on through to the other side." A true natural trip. What would happen after fasting for 40 days. I'd probably see God.

As an investment yesterday I bought the Juiceman Juicer, you know the machine endorsed by that crazy guy with huge white eye brows. For breakfast I had a tall, double shot of carrot and celery.

It is quite remarkable to me how much better I feel in three months of taking care of myself. No drug companies, no shrinks, no binge shopping sprees. I feel great.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Teeth Falling Out

My God, I am brain dead. I have been in the apartment for three days trying to write a piece of fiction for this workshop I've got today. On top of that I had to take mid terms yesterday! I am so ready for summer. I just want to sit on the couch and watch baseball and drink beer. I want to be completely brain dead.

I think humans are simple creatures. I am simple anyway, the rest of the world might be robots programed to stimulate me. How normal is it, for simple creatures to pretend to be someone else while constructing that someone elses reality out of words? It is probably the most normal thing a human can do. It is the locking myself in the apartment and writing for three days that is abnormal.

I had a dream last night, a reoccuring dream, that my teeth were falling out. I am so hyper aware of language right now that I fear that speaking might rot my teeth and they will fall out.

I can't wait until summer. Baseball games. Beer. Ahh.

Apology to George Lucus

I watched a documentry on the making of the Star Wars trilogy last night. I feel like a real viper for trashing Lucus's movies. I gained a whole new respect for the man after watching the documentary. Lucus single handedly changed our culture with his imagination and that is inspiring. I don't want to write another post about Star Wars but I wanted to apologize. Lucus is a God I am merely a fan. He has a ranch in northern California, I have a mildewy apartment. Mr. Lucus thanks for your movies. My feelings betray me still however, when I think of the pod race, jar jar, and gungans.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

There and Back Again

Scientist have written a piece of historical fiction about our human past. We very may have evolved from apes. I am not qualified to argue otherwise. But aren't those Discovery Channel shows with the animated halflings a work of imaginative fiction? Someone someday will find my bones. Is it possible that they could piece together my daily routine through my bones?

My dad shakes his head when he hears the scientist talk about the age of the universe. Hethens! The universe is only six thousand years old! Scientist with their large brains have performed many magical feats. Electronics. Radio. Combustion. Nuclear weapons. It seems only obvious that they have tapped into powers I can't understand. If they say the Universe is 13.5 billion light years old then so be it, just give me more magic. My biology is boring.

I went to hear a professor from the east coast talk on campus a few days ago. Her credentials as a paleontologist were solid. No question, she was more than qualified to share her knowledge of evolutionary biology with us. Her lecture was not about natural selection though, it was about how as a Christian, she reconciles her faith with her job, with her belief that evolution is true. She had multiple PhD's in science but her only qualification as a Christian authority is that she helped in her childrens sunday school classes. That hardly seems balanced.

She said that indeed, evolution is a fact. Natural selection, competition, all of that stuff is the mechanism that produces change in species. She then went on to say that the Bible is a collection of allegories and poems and should not be taken literally. She even went as far as to say that we can not even be sure that we have translated the bible correctly, being that the original Hebrew texts used no vowels or punctuation. So after she said that the bible is unreliable and in fact a work of fiction, she said that Jesus Christ was her Lord and savior.

I wonder. What does she need to be saved from? Sin after all is what we humans need saving from. You know sin--competing with your neighbors, coveting the neighbors wife, murder....The very things that will help us out on our journey to the top of the food chain. If the bible shouldn't be taken literally then why even live by it. I have read a lot of good books, myths, fairy tales, poems, that I thought were edifying to my soul, but I do not worship them, I do not hold them up as my law. Made me respect literalist and Christian fundementalist after hearing this woman contradict herself. At least they have a sound arguement, though thier premise may be questionable.

There must be a missing piece of the puzzle somewhere. There has to be an option other than our ancestors either being monkeys or our ancestors falling from a literal garden paradise.

Enter Middle Earth. Why not put one's faith in Tolkien? He had some good allegories, some pretty poetry.

I don't think you have to a Bible literalist to understand that there are moral rules that seem inherently right. Maybe creationism doesn't make good science. But it is obvious to me, when I look at the world, that there is a designer and a higher force. It's apparentness does not reside in my large homo sapien cranial cavity, but in my heart. I am willing to bet that God resided in the hearts of our ancestors just like in us. You can't find fossil evidence for this of course.

Our ancestors might have been small statured but there is no reason to believe that they were carnal savages. If I were the King of this kingdom, I would gather all the poets and tell them to write a past in which our ancestors were high elves. Crime rates would go down and test scores would go up.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

The Biggest Geek Post Ever

I bought my ticket to see Star War III. I am kinda bummed because I couldn't find anyone to go to the midnight showing with me. Everyone has a job! But I am going to see it Thursday night. I remember going to see episode I. It was like I was partaking in a generational event. My mom and dad saw the original Star Wars on their first date. I've always wished I could have been alive to see the original in the theater. How disappointed I was sitting there in the theater at 1 am on May 15th 1999. The movie was a major snoozer and I remember feeling violent towards Jar Jar.

Andy and I had the biggest nerd conversation ever this afternoon about how horrible these new Star Wars movies are. For some reason I have been unable to write lately and so am forced to put my thoughts in list form. So here is another list of why the new Star Wars movies suck. Feel free to add to the list. Or if you love these movies tell me why.

1. The original trilogy used the age old quest model. Good triumphs over evil and look here is the struggle that made it possible. The quest model is the spine of fantasy and religion. Star Wars is like a religion. I am not sure what Lucas has been smoking but he trashed the quest motif and like all obnoxious garbage in today's culture chose instead a political drama model. Who gives a flyin' rip about trade federation embargos and treaties.

2. The resolution of the entire trilogy was Darth Vadar on his death bed, mask off, death star crumbling around him, saying "Luke you were right about me". Vader was redeemed man! Hallelujah. It seems to me then that the prequels should be about Vader's fall. We haven't even seen Vader yet! Instead we got a pod race with baby talk cartoon aliens that lasted over a half hour! Come on, Anakin should have been turning into Vader during the first movie.

3. If we would have seen Vader in the first movie instead having a racial war between the Gungans and the Nebuians shoved down our throat, Then Vader could have been kickin' some ass in the second movie instead of some old man I've never seen and don't care about--count Dooko.

4. Andy pointed this out and it is a very good point. Qui Gon was a bad ass, possibly the coolest jedi in all the movies. Darth Mall, even with all the make-up, was a rad sith. We get attached to these characters and then Lucas throws them away only to introduce us to more and more jedi. How does Darth Mall tie in with the redemption scene? He doesn't--at all. But he did make a profitable action figure as did Qui Gon Gin.

5. The acting wasn't all that great in the original movies either. In fact the dialogue wasn't even that great. The writing in the new movies is just plane horrible. Anakin reciting love poems in the second movie is truly hard to watch. The guy who plays Anikan, should win the worst actor in history award. Who wouldn't want to be in Star Wars? Couldn't they find a better actor than that dude? I guess he is a teen age heart throb. Once again we are talking money over story.

6. Computer animation is over used and cheap looking. The models will always look better. Compare Lord of the Rings with Star Wars... There is no comparison.

7. Fart jokes.

8. Jar Jar.

Even though I find the first two prequels to be inferior films. I will still be at the premiere of episode 3, my seven fity is already in Lucas's pocket.

little quiz

You scored as Existentialism. Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life.

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”
“It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.”
--Jean-Paul Sartre

“It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.”
--Blaise Pascal

More info at Arocoun's" Wikipedia User Page...









Strong Egoism


Divine Command


Justice (Fairness)






What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03)
created with

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Rook to D5

I've written about my love of dreaming in previous posts. The wonderful thing about dreaming is that like any other sport, one can get better at it. I've had a variety of dream perspectives. I usually dream in third person as another character or "camera" looking at me. Sometimes I'll dream in first person but that is rare. Within the last couple years, I have been able to dream in a planetary perspective, hovering over the earth and seeing all that goes on below. The last two nights I have had a completely new experience in dream perspective. Bodilessness. Lately I have been playing insane amounts of chess and this is being reflected in my dreams. I am dreaming in chess notation! It is wonderful. Pure intuition. No image, no feelings. Just chess. It isn't that I am seeing the board or reading the notation, it's different and indescribable, yet very pleasurable.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Homo Sapien

What should I make for dinner?
I should use the green peppers before they rot.
Maybe I'll just go out.
Wouldn’t have to clean the kitchen.
Hamburger. Chinese. Deli salad. Taco. Pizza. Chinese.
Hamburger. Chinese.
A double bacon cheese burger--with guacamole
No. That‘s so unhealthy.
Wouldn‘t have to clean the kitchen though.
I should use the green peppers before they rot.
No. McDonalds.
Wow, look at her.
Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.
I need to do sit ups.
Sex. Sex.
I see flashing lights.
A fire truck.
Is that fire truck parked in front of my house?
Did I turn off the coffee maker? The iron?
Oh god I left the stove on.
My books!
My computer.
I burned down the house.
Do I have insurance?
I'm ruined.
I'm homeless.
Ted! My ferret!
Poor Ted.
Wait, is that my house?
The iron. I didn't turn off the iron.
I'm ruined.
I wish I had a time machine…
Yes, a time machine.
They’re not in front of my apartment.
Whew, okay, good. They're parked in front of the neighbor's house.
I did turn off the iron.
I remember now.
Hey, she's cute.
Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.
I'm hungry.
I'm gonna get a hamburger.
No. I should eat those vegetables before they go bad.
But a hamburger would taste so good.
Yes, I’ve made up my mind.
A fat juicy hamburger; a reward for not burning down the house.