stills from THE OWL, THE BULL, AND THE ROOSTER

NAGA PT 3

driving
in the
spirit world
is like
driving 100 mph
in a
snowstorm

can't see

fighting
spirits
is really
horrible

NAGA PT 2

in an eatery on the north side of town
a tall, slim waitress with the shoulder gait of a hoodlum
ivory skin
and coal black hair
follows a female to the restrooms

the bathroom for the ladies is occupied
the waitress suggests using the men's room
not to worry, she tells her, there is only one room
and there is a lock on the door
the female thanks her and goes through the door

the waitress follows her in and grabs her
from behind the neck

an index finger slowly sinks in as far as it will go

NAGA (part one)

there was a knock on the front door of my apartment
my five guests yelled at me to open the door already
the knocker was man in his late 40's
he was shabbily dressed and wore a lost expression
coulda passed for a coal miner from West Virginia
steel blue eyes and mullet in the making
his short sleeve t-shirt was blue too
but there were no arms
sticking out

he asked for a place to stay
most of my friends balked at the idea
I told him sure, why not?

my apartment had one of those bathrooms
with rooms leading in to it from either side

i went in to use the toilet and saw that the
door to the room that i was letting the
stranger sleep in was cracked open
i looked
i saw him taking his arms out of his shirt
and make a call from a cell phone

i started screaming for him to get the fuck out
my friends got a little scared i was so angry

from the third floor balcony i saw the stranger
walk across the street and enter an abandoned
house that was half-way consumed by ivy
windowless

the stranger walked in to the house
from the ceiling
a blue spider the size of a Volkswagen bug
came down and tore him to pieces

BENEATH SLEEP

luxury apartment with hidden
security devices
hidden
beings
living behind
walls and plumbing
everything glass
or black marble
tinted windows
floor to ceiling
night
only

dissolve

an outpost within
an abandoned sports complex
a human sized robot sent
to exterminate the occupants
robot defeated
weeks later
robot #2
this time twelve feet high
battle longer
three dead, nine wounded
robot#2 destroyed
preparing for evacuation
as the steps
of robot #3 are heard
it's thirty foot form
seen easily on the
horizon

dissolve

someone's dad
showing off his plucked
and sculpted eyebrows
to his sons horror

dissolve

a pocket book stuffed
with credit cards
and a drivers license
Patricia on the face
Samantha her real face
Beebo her alter ego

dissolve

repeat

A SEA SPROUTS SPOTS

up above the sea
a spotted bird
jettisoned the
waste of a fish dinner
down to the
earth
below

three convicts
sat cross-legged
on shimmering white sand
that blanketed an island
not much bigger than
three meters

they watched the stinking deposit
descend
tumbling and twisting
until it landed
on the empty husk
of a dried coconut
with an oily splat

Zotik looked at Murash
Murash looked at Zotik
and then at Afanasii
Afanasii looked at them both
"I win!" cried Afanasii

for the rest of the day
Afanasii enjoyed the
only shade on the island
a cool sliver of comfort
underneath the single
palm tree
the others laid on their
stomachs
shielding their faces
from the strong sun

some days were better
than others

on good days
while awake,
they talked of the past
they composed jokes
with an emphasis on
the surrounding
ocean life
while asleep,
they enjoyed dreams of
women
food
and scores to be
settled

the bad days
were crippling

brutal fights
arguments and insults
outspoken confessions
of fear
reigned
helping to divert
attention from
the cavernous
condition of
their shrinking
bellies
the nightmares
slow and relentless
soaked in anxiety
and murder
the image
of the prize:
the last
coconut
dangling high
at the very
top of the tree

sun up
sun down
revolving
rising here
setting there
a smiling yellow symbol
turning inside
a slot machine

Murash woke up
one morning and
started to yell
Zotik and Afanasii
opened up their eyes
fists clenched
"Look! LOOK! LOOK!"

he was pointing at
the sea
pointing at an island
that had appeared
out of nowhere

they stood together
in shock
then the laughter came

a true miracle
indeed
large as soccer field
boasting a lagoon lined with
hundreds of palm clusters
heavy with fruit
not too far either
the swimming distance
less than two
buses laid end to end

Afanasii jumped up and down
then ran and dove into the water
Zotik went to do the same but
was held back by Murash
Murash feared the island
to be a trick that was being
played on them by
desperation

Zotik thought about this
he then reasoned that if Afanasii
could walk on it, it was real
together they watched
Afanasii make his way
to paradise

Afanasii was halfway there
when he stopped and looked
back towards the others
waving for them to come
he started to yell something
but was torn in half by a
hungry shark

Murash and Zotik sat down
no words were spoken for the
remainder of the day
sky dimming
towering moon
silent
blank
dreamless sleep

Murash slowly
awakened
by the sun warming
his eyelids
Zotik was gone
he looked up
and saw his form
in the water
swimming to the
other island
like a fool
a fast fool

Zotik triumphed
neither fatigue
or a pounding heart
kept him from
running in circles
dancing
yelling
celebrating
the end of his journey

Murash also leapt around
he smiled
shouted
and laughed
on the outside
but on the inside
his fear
of getting into the
deep, deep sea
grew

Zotik started yelling
not out of beckoning
but out of alarm

Murash watched
as Zotik sank
in quicksand
screaming
until his head
was submerged
in thickness
muffled
consumed
lost

Murash sat erect
with his back against
the trunk of the palm tree
protected by
the shade
he didn't move for days

the last
coconut
broke off

a falling cannonball
the full weight
and velocity
enough to shatter
a human skull

Murash hardly felt
its impact even though
it was enough to dislodge
a tooth from his mouth
before his body
slumped to the side
never to move again

the tooth tumbled
over the sand
into the waves
it did not sink
floating gently
until a spotted bird
dove down
snatched it up

it flew up past
the clouds
passing the moon
and the gas giants
crossing over
system upon system

in time the bird
grew tired
it could fly no more
its dead body landed
on a tiny
undiscovered
planetoid
every part of the bird
would eventually
dissolve
except for
the tooth

The Tooth of Murash

ARENA

PART FOUR

Pete didn't let Jerry down. He took it to the next level. It was going to be the fight of the millennium, hands down. The wealthy and anyone who could lay down 100 grand a pop were in attendance plopped down on limited seating inside the live arena. Everyone else ordered pay-per-view.
Bets were made. The merchandising ran its predictable course: t-shirts, posters, programs, action figures, underwear, beer---the list was long. The hairy giants were the least excited in the spectacle. Starved, agitated and pumped full of chemicals to increase aggression, the two raged and howled in the containment rooms.
When the clock hit nine it was time to start the show. The hydraulic walls of each pen began to move swiftly together forcing each beast down a narrow hallway until stopping at a steel door. The big moment had arrived. The doors started to move upward. The two creatures saw each other across the arena pit and unleashed unearthly cries. The crowd went nuts. There was disbelief and awe, anxiety and blood thirst.

Then something strange happened. The Yeti and Bigfoot walked towards each other slowly. They stopped fifteen feet apart. Grunts and clicks were exchanged. Before the crowd had a chance to start booing, the two beasts levitated off the ground. They reached an equal height of a foot or so and then they burst into flames. The crowd was silent. The burning shapes floated to the middle of the arena. At its center the shapes joined producing a bigger blaze. The color of the flame then changed to blue. Then the blue shifted to green. From green it grew brighter until it was a blinding white. People covered their eyes. Some put on their sunglasses, eager for a look at this baffling phenomenon.

The fire dimmed and went out to reveal a smoking column of ash. The ash fell away and all that was left was a floating, television-sized cube the color of dark soil. Nothing happened for a bit. There was plenty of fear and stupefaction in the stands.

The cube split apart into 27 smaller cubes. These cubes drifted in the air until there was a good distance away from one another. Around each cube formed 26 copies of itself. They multiplied slowly at first, but with each new replication the process doubled in speed.
People kissed, fought, worked, slept, ate, worried, and celebrated, as the skies grew dark. Pete drank until his arm couldn’t lift any more bottles. Jean-Paul went for a swim in the ocean. Kang quit drinking and helped his brother build a new house. Jerry lit a candle in the bar after the power went out.

It only took a few days for the cubes to completely cover the planet. The cubes succeeded in bricking in the earth, the airtight seal they obtained would have made any mason proud. All that was left was a lifeless black sphere revolving and orbiting the sun in silence. And thus, the cycle was complete.

FIN

ARENA

PART THREE

The hunt for the Sasquatch was just as full of fuck-ups. Some of them were funny, like the National Guardsman stepping in a fresh Bigfoot turd the size of three basketballs lying side by side. Some of them were not, like three of the crew getting torn apart by a grizzly bear when they went to check out a cave. After that incident things were tense.

The mood was lifted when Jean-Paul, ever the professional, spotted some tracks. The mood turned sour again when the tracks stopped at a vertical rock face. They didn't end on the ground though. Big muddy prints marked the cliff wall all the way up. A gravity defying Bigfoot was unsettling. It was the stuff of horrible dreams.

Everyone felt like they were being watched from between the trees. When two from the expedition never came back to camp for the night, the remaining members brought out the automatic weapons, Pete included. An owl’s hoot became a tingle inside their heads. Any chirp or snap turned up the heartbeat. There was a smell too. Worse than anything Pete could have smelled like in the past. It was a cross between shit, three-day-old sweat and something really, really dead. They drew lots to see who would have first watch.

When Jean-Paul asked everyone to step out of the tent, he said it just a wee bit too calmly, too quietly. Pete looked at his watch. It was four-thirty in the morning. He and the other two guardsmen shuffled out with arms in hand. They looked out into the woods. It was a terrible situation. Surrounding them on all sides were no less than ten Bigfoot creatures, their baseball-sized eyes wide open, their breath deep and resonating; the men could feel it in their stomachs. Jean-Paul suggested he down the biggest one with the tranquilizer. When he falls, he said, the rest of them are yours. Do not miss. Jean-Paul aimed quickly and pulled the trigger. The rest was loud, blinding and ugly.

The helicopter lifted them out two days later. Pete tried to mentally block out the mess below. Blood and bullet casings made up the first layer. The second layer was body parts. It resembled a battlefield right down to the unidentified pieces of shiny meat and bone that were imbedded in the tree trunks. Pete drank down half a bottle of vodka before even completing the ascent. Stay focused; the real combat was going to happen soon enough, he thought. And it would be televised.

ARENA

PART TWO

Two weeks later ol Pete was deep up in the Himalayas with crew of seven legionnaires. On the first day, the hike up to Yeti territory was strong and unified. Everybody was pumped. The sun was out and about, the sky a true blue. Songs were sung. Smiles beamed beneath the cotton ski masks.

It didn't last long though. Their guide, Kang, was more of a lush than Pete. He made Pete look like a one-beer-a-day kinda guy. The camp was usually set up where Kang had passed out. Progress was measured in hours and bottles of wine. The mercenaries started to get a case of the ass. They wanted booze and whores brought up to the tents. Things were unraveling. Kang slid, sighed and slurred. He demanded more money. Pete nursed a bad case of altitude sickness. Ten days into the expedition the only snowman in captivity was the one the soldiers had constructed for knife throwing practice.

One dim morning they the Yeti let its presence be known. A roar louder than anything any of them had ever heard ripped down from above. Then they felt a rumble. Some one cursed in French. Then the avalanche smashed across the mountain burying everyone underneath ton after ton of rock and snow except for Pete, Kang and one of the soldiers. There was nothing left to do but to pick up and keep on going.

A week later Pete’s luck surfaced for a second time. He had been up on a boulder scanning the valley with binoculars when he saw it: The Abominable Snowman, ten feet tall, pointy-head and claws that could slice through steel. It was squatting next to a dead mountain climber trying to pull the head off but the last few sinews and neck flesh weren't having it. Pete motioned to Jean-Paul and whispered if he could get a shot from that distance. The Frenchman said nothing. He raised the modified sniper rifle and set it down on the icy rock. Seconds the length of minutes thumped by. There was a quick pop. The high capacity tranquilizer round rocketed through the frigid air and penetrated the thick skin of the giant. Pete saw the Yeti crumple to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

ARENA

PART ONE

Pete Cereval was a bum; as in dirty stinking bum. Dirty because the all the gyms and YMCA’s had shut him out, one right after the other, for clogging the drains and using up all of the paper towels. Stinking because when he wasn’t putting away inhuman amounts of scotch on the sidewalk or the corner bar, you could find him sleeping in an alley just past 16th street---his bed the inside of a trash dumpster, his pillow a mound of dirty diapers. The trash truck was his alarm.

His sole aim was annihilation. The first bottle was his coffee, the next his breakfast. If he didn’t manage lunch, that was o.k. but if dinner was withheld he’d get desperate.For Pete, putting his hands on some money was always the problem to solve, the nut to crack, the task for the reward. Most days he resorted to asking for change in front of the neighborhood park. Other ventures included badgering elderly men to pitch pennies for a few rounds. Pete would always lose. It was after these defeats when the agitation would kick in. These were not his best moments. He once tried to steal the backpack off of a 3rd grader after losing a pair of dimes but nearly got his eye poked out with a pencil.

Dogs thwarted his plans on a routine basis. An attempt at snatching a radio off a row house porch led to being chased at high-speed by an angry German Shepard. Pete dashed through an intersection like a clown on fire, looked over his shoulder and was knocked out cold by a pizza delivery moped. Ouch. The driver beat him silly cursing at him in Croatian. Two weeks later, he eyed a case of CD’s laying on the back seat of a Volvo. It seemed like easy pickings until the Pit Bull sleeping in the passenger seat woke up and bit off a golf ball sized chunk of his chin. At the free clinic Pete pressed the bloody paper towel against his face and told the receptionist, “I am done with the dog.”

The dogs weren’t done with him though. A Bull Terrier pissed on his leg the very next day. Pete was enraged. He unzipped and pissed back but then fell over, pissing on himself. Then the dog’s owner decided to piss on him. A curious onlooker came up and pissed on him as well. When the cop finally got to the scene there were no less than nine people in a big circle around Pete. You could hear his screams of agony. “It’s like acid! Stop it, stop it now mother fuckers, or I’ll report you!” The cop shoved the laughing, pissing people aside and told them to go home. Pete was thrown in the drunk tank for a week.

The day of his release he was mistakenly given someone else’s belongings. One of the items was a beat up wallet. Pete signed a paper and hurried out of jail, wondering if this was a set-up. Six blocks later he opened the wallet in the safety of the subway restroom. Inside there was a taped up dollar bill. The rest was stuffed with worn business cards and receipts. He let out a noise like a wounded animal and hurled the wallet into the broken toilet as hard as he could. The splash soaked him head to toe in piss. Back up on the street, he decided to buy a lottery ticket with the found money. That morning he got lucky. How lucky? After taxes, his personal fortune added up to the tune of 15 million dollars. Now that’s a lucky bum; one lucky, dirty, stinking bum. He blazed through crates of booze, showered the ladies with gold and got himself a fancy set of wheels. After the two weeks the celebration was over, he got wise. He laid down a large stack to construct a twenty-room house in the hills.

Despite his great fortune he still went down to the bar where he had spent a good portion of the last ten years of his life. He liked to spread his prosperity. All of his drinking buddies were treated to endless gallons of rotgut. One night, while watching a boxing match on the tv, his buddy Jerry related to him that there's no good fights anymore. Pete thought about this while staring past the screen. In a flash fueled by whiskey and a bloated bank account, he told Jerry that he was going to change all that. He told him that he'd put on the fight of the century. There wouldn’t be anything like it on the planet. He could see the poster in his head as clear as day, two by three feet, with giant letters on luminous orange cardstock. And the billboard, pasted up all over downtown: BIGFOOT versus THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN.

PATRULLEROS PERDIDOS

"Just say it ass bag, we're freakin lost."
"I refuse. Our position yesterday was right here on the map, see that dot I put there?"
"And we've been walking for how many hours?"
"More than four. We should have at least crossed the river by now."
"Maybe that compass of yours is screwed up."
"If I give you my knife, will you scoop out your eyeball with it?"
"Only if you you eat it and shit it out and eat it again 500 times."
"How long do you think that would take?"
"Longer than here to where ever we're going, then again maybe not as long."
"What if we just radio in?"
"Even if the batteries weren't completely drained it would be against orders."
"Oh yeah, that's right, we are on a secret mission."
"Secret means hush-hush brainiac."
"You mean like tip-toe kinda shit?"
"No, more like creepy-crawly...look at that bug."
"Is that an ant or a beetle?"
"Looks like booth. Maybe a little turtle thrown in."
"It's see through, look, you can see its insides."
"That's gross. Should we kill it?"
"Why, are you going to eat it?"
"No, but we could just let off some steam."
"I'll give you 3 cigarettes if you bite off one of its legs."
"Which one?"
"The back right one."
"How about 6 cigs if I get the head?"
"Wheeler and dealer are you? Let me see how many I have. Okay, you're on."
"I'm not swallowing it though."
"Well, then I guess you only get 5 then."
"That's fine by me, I'm not greedy."
"Are you going to pick it up?"
"Nah, head to head. Hold this."
"Are you gonna do it or just stare at it all day?"
"It's got a huge mouth. Wait. It's moving. I think I hear something."
"Probably your teeth chattering."
"Shhhhh, I'm serious. Holy fuck, the freakin bug is talking!"
"Oh yeah? What is it saying there funny man?"
"It's saying.....fa...la....it's saying follow me!"
"Come on, I want to see some decapitation."
"See, it's turning around."
"You truly are a tool."
"We have to follow the bug."
"We do not have to follow the bug."
"We have to follow the bug."
"We do not have to follow the bug."
"We have to follow the bug."
"Ok, paper, sisscors, rock."
"Isn't there a pencil in there somewhere?"
"Just the three cock head."
"Ok. Let's do this. One, two and three!"
"Ha, I win."
"Best out of three."
"Fine by me. One, two, three!"
"Rock smashes sisscors to bits!"
"Last one. Ready? One, two, three!"
"Aww fuck."
"Smothered like a bug in a rug."
"I'm gonna miss that bug."
"I know why you're bummed."
"Why is that?"
"I know what you're all about now."
"What are you talkin about?"
"You, my friend, are a bugfucker."
"I can live with that. Do you want to know something really crazy?"
"Say."
"Look over there, past the bug, at 3 o'clock"
"The river."
"I'll be a son of a bee sting."
"Do you believe me now?"
"No, but if you were going to fuck that bug, what position would it be?"
"From behind. Definitely from behind."
"Maybe I can take the mouth."

SKETCHY DEUCE

COCOON- When there is a cocoon like piece of dung still hanging on your cheek and after shaking it, becomes dislodged and falls into the water below. Before it gets flushed you notice something moving around inside.

DIAL- When you think you're done and while you're getting up off the crapper, a soap sized piece shoots out and lands on the floor. You don't notice it until it's too late: you slip on it, crack your head open and die. Very bad this kind of poo.

TORPEDO- This kind really hurts comin out. It hurts so much in fact, that it makes you double over just as your sister is coming in the bathroom and the sheer force of it takes her head clean off.

SNIPER- Same as above but it goes through the door and smashes sis in the head causing internal bleeding and death.

UFO- It is huge and sphere-like. When you go flush, it floats out of the toilet, out of the bathroom and breaks out through the window. It is last seen vanishing into the heavens.

BROWNACONDA- Need I say more? 10 footers are not uncommon.

TADPOLE- This one is when you're taking a bath with a loved one and you accidentally squeeze one out. Your loved one flips out and runs out the door screaming. You follow to try and resolve the situation. After a few hours you come back, single, and go to the tub to pull out the stopper. You freeze when you notice that the turd is not only floating but swimming around the tub. You feel it is best to leave it alone. On the 3rd day it starts to grow legs and arms. This is when you say enough is enough and scoop it out with a baseball hat and drop it in the toilet where it belongs. You flush 6 times, terrified.

MEOW- You strain and strain and then SPLOOSH, it hits the water. When you get up you notice it isn't a piece of shit at all but a living and breathing cat head!

(all of these are true except for the last one; please take great delight in the fact that these are just microscopic excerpts from the mammoth journal "POO LOG" )

HOWISITPOSSEEBOW

poor little spider
gnat remover
ant cannibow
wrong place: over my head
wrong time: early a.m. sunrise paranoia

unattended stacks
half finished elephant

by the time the 100th beast is complete
the first one will look silly
so the beasts will end when all
hybrid think stew is over
and the ink all gone

blessed sleep any moment now
this era must end soon
the bucket depends on it

hyper-bubble

FLOOD

stampede: forty keystone cops strong
summoned by pressing
the hidden
panic button

this is the only means of defense
from "the goof"
a creature with long
scarecrow-like arms
that can kill you with a thunder slap

the sound he makes
is a cross between an air raid siren
and sustaining the "L" sound
tongue against the back
top row of teeth

the virus is catching
one can turn into "the goof"
anywhere at anytime

find the button

trample the freak
escape from the freak

mock the freak

panic no more

DRUM DRUM CRISP POCKET

locka socket
thread the meat
store the bore
confess to heat

take a right here
now a left
watch out for the dude on the bike
left at the stop sign
it's around here somewhere
it's that dude, ask him ask him
excuse me, is suppo around?
how many you want?
just two
twenty bucks
go down this road
take a right
left into the alley
into the alley
here, i'll put yours in
relax your ass godammit
alright
i got mine, don't worry about it
it takes a bit to come on
go down to the end of the alley
go left
get on the highway
you feelin it?
pull over, pull over
don't trip, that's normal
let me drive
it's 4:30
am

shiny black cases
almost like cigarillos
new style
up the yin yan

MOOBAK

In the envelope there was a tail of some sort of lizard, it was still moving.

My pillow felt warm and meaty...like a tongue.

There is a pool of quicksand in room 201.

Sometimes after a 6 day run of eating nothing but cereal I have the tendency to buy 2x4's, chicken wire, 6 Sunday edition newspapers and a pound of flour. I make a fake boulder the size of a car and leave it in a public place at 6 in the morning.

The biggest scab I've ever found was in an airplane bathroom. It was the size of a CD. I wanted to touch it but thought better of it. I wrapped it in toilet paper and carried it back to my seat. When no one was looking I inserted it behind my tray table.

This morning I found a real boulder the size of a car on my car. I went inside and ate some cereal.

I live in room 101 and the ceiling in the living room is starting to stain.

In the middle of the night I threw my pillow down the trash chute. I noticed my hands were covered in saliva.

When I returned to my apartment, I tossed the writhing reptile tail down the kitched sink. I went to to turn on the garbage disposal but the electricity had gone out. I could hear it sloshing below.

Damn the thunder storm.

SWAMP THING

ghost orchids
floating on the head of a gator
dragonflies bumpin uglies
trunks sinkin into
olive green stew

bare
foot
raised
high

disgust or ecstacy
pick one
let it drip
off the nose

fill the bowl
brownaconda
fill the bowl
raining brown

constructing
tubing
adhering
nozzles

beware
the
water
thieves

Nun Yunu Wi

Over a period of several weeks a 5-ft Bigfoot that cried like a baby roamed around my property, and the radio would stop when it was near. While driving, I saw Bigfoot with long black wavy fur eating an animal killed on the road. I Shot at 8-ft Bigfoot which ran wounded into canyon; two others helped it. Bigfoot started taking sheep from corrals; I seen one walking with sticks on its arms. While camping with my family, I heard a loud and horrifying scream and saw creature standing by tree. Saw 7-ft Bigfoot with white eyes standing in alley near my apartment. Bigfoot ran beside my car at 45 mph until I shot at it. Thrown to ground while sleeping in pick-up by Bigfoot. Bigfoot often seen during this summer; threw a car wheel 500 ft at one group of hikers. While fishing apart from 2 companions, saw huge, hairy Bigfoot watching me from thicket. At night I saw 10-ft gray Bigfoot with red eyes standing in grassy field. Although I had rifle, I could not shoot.Watched Bigfoot for 30 minutes. It was about 8 ft tall, dark brown except for straw-colored hair on head and shoulders. It watched me picking berries. Saw ten 12-ft Bigfeet from aircraft. Heard screaming and growling noises in the brush, and by flashlight I saw a large, dark-colored thing walking upright. It climbed an 8-ft wall. Next day a dead deer was found. At 3 am I saw a 12-ft creature with hunch back, long dark hair and arms that hung to ground; made a long, drawn-out moan or growl with labored breathing and chased me off the mountain. Saw Bigfoot peering in at me through picture window. Its rusty-colored hair was matted with leaves and it had long chipped teeth. Saw Bigfoot in shed, and again later. It did not attempt to attack. Cornered Bigfoot beside pond and shot it with pistol from 10 ft. It fled into woods, leaving no trace of blood. Watched 8-9-ft Bigfoot, rocking blue car with hysterical man inside. Saw Bigfoot climb up the river bank, lean upon a tree and then return to the river. Had a nervous breakdown.

SQUALINGTON: OVER THE RIVER

alley of tarts loading in
bass machines
vats of licker

forty cent spike in
the price of coffee
go juice
hot
go juice
cold

this week
for real this time
that
spectre
might as well
be inviso-bug

hunt-wind
eat-sky
poop-gold
grow-cube

dollops in safe spoons
crack a toe...ah
thick orange glitter
ash statues

SLEEPONICON (or the blind air traffic controller)

on the ground: a snake
on the pants: an inchworm
on the trash can: a squirrel fetus
on the lawn: your stupid blob of a dog
on the tarmac: seven golden airplanes
on the horizon: big big shark fin
on the prowl: prowlers and growlers
on the ball: crippled clowns (for 3 seconds)
on the blip: omega chip
on the motherfucker: a crab with boxing gloves
on the wagon: your retarded uncle
on the mound: an armless pitcher with a lot of heart
on the contrary: volumes of text; all forgotten
on the shelf: booze, glasses and plastic bowls
on the rebound: a fuckin fireball
on the piss: lads with severe baseball bats; nail studded and all
on the other hand: a black glove crushing a snowball
on the end: right here, right now

grip
stone
nestle
bones

BAD CHOICES, GOOD LESSONS

bloated repe tee shuns
rocket to the poons
hands around the socket
soak another spoon

halo of ants
lookin grim and superstitious
a charging cavalry
orange and delicious

belly up, innards exposed
a change of plans, who knows?

seeking the maps
under mapper/slapper/cornus

the best part of seven farts
is the trumpet in the depths
my beard on fire
my trajectory
a gyroscope
my inflection
a gyro

seek the new-ish
robotics and the thought
bermo
stampo
monolithico

erasers
bouncing
off
your
bucket head bitch
brain bucket

take a pic
avoid the lick

winding up
grinding

laps
water
spring
goggles

bloody knees
sparkling behind
long fence

drama
as
material to be
studied

clothes
as
material to be
draped

wings
puncture

nails
displace

cups
fill

money is
safe

barter
replaced

soonholmes
triggerbore
steelplates

dented like a doctor
revolting

arrow pepper
thunk

plez

SERVICING SUBSTANCE PROVIDERS

someone i know used to say
"it's all about the 5 elements"
the lighter, the paper, the tobacco, and the hash
"that's only 4" i would remark
"correct, i am the fifth element"

dew, dew
pu, pu

camera merchant he was
the digital ones sometimes came with pics
of the previous owners vacations
money changed hands
as the unfortunate ones filed police reports

squeezed into a tiny car
the five of us drove by a wall to see his
latest artwork
someone had blasted over it
the vehicle hadn't even come to a stop
and he was out the door
and then back
screaming for someone to give him
a can of silver spray paint

erratic vices barcelona-style

BUG FUGGIN

http://www.whatsthatbug.com/love_among_bugs.html

TALES OF A THOUSAND CRATES

All of them numbered. The warehouse is of cinderblock and aluminum construction. That's about all really.

EVB

MONTGOLFIERS MEDUSAE

We were 23 destroyers strong. Our crafts were hot air balloons made to look like jellyfish. Each basket held a team of three men: one to navigate, one to load the weapons (every sort of arrow-firing device imaginable) and one to pull the triggers. We had been sailing the foul southwest winds for more than few days when we saw the tiny forms of our enemy on the horizon. They were in balloons too, it seemed. My confidence turned to sick horror when I realized the models of their ships. Our floating phalanx would be no match for them. They were 46 strong. They were advancing fast in shark-shaped blimps. These blimps were larger (held more weapons, ammo and men) and faster than our humble crafts. I shouted orders to my left, which in turn was repeated down the line. Our only advantage was a steeper firing arc. They lacked a good angle. I started cranking the bows to face the sun.

ANTARCTICA

Building One: General appearance is that of an oversized shipping container. Four stories high. The only windows are a small circular one on the front door, and a bay window in both of the work stations which occupy the bottom floor and are on opposite ends of the building.

Worker A is the data miner. His duties are to process the signals being sent to his computer via the DSAA sensor that sits 5,000 feet beneath the ice. Using military software he then plots the information onto a virtual representation of a sphere. Once the rendering is complete he will make a physical copy out of clay. Each node on the surface of the sphere on the screen will be represented in the real world by a tiny metal pin that he inserts at the correctly calculated coordinates.

Once the model is finished he puts it into a foam padded metal sphere about the size of a bowling ball, locks it up tight and slides it into an elevator-like apparatus. When he presses a large green button the elevator takes the metal ball up to the fourth floor. At this point the ball will be ejected into a complicated network of tubes, much like plastic gerbil play tunnels, set on an incline. Every few feet the ball triggers sensors that read the positions of the embedded nodes on the rolling encapsulated sphere.

The ball finally creeps into the second workstation on the other end of the building. Worker B then has the task of removing the nodes for repeated use and of shaping the clay into the form of a cube. She inserts all of the nodes on one side of the cube, locks it back up in its spherical casing and sends it back to Worker A, this time in a different tunnel system but sans sensors. She is also responsible for managing the incoming helicopter traffic, the daily data reports, and performing routine system checks on the transport tubes.

There is a large metal door that rolls up right next to the entrance. This is mainly used for incoming deliveries. The helipad is 100 feet from this door.

Building Two: More of a sunken dome. Connected to Building One by an underground passageway. This is used as a living area for both workers. There are couches, a small kitchenette, a television and telephone. There are two doors on the far side that lead into the living quarters.

Building Three: A perfect red cube shape about 20 feet high. It sits 200 feet away from Building One and Two. It has four large antennas on the roof. No windows. There is no visible door on the outside. There are no tunnels that lead to it. Worker A assumes it is some sort of power system, perhaps a backup. Maybe a communication hub or the DSAA relay station. Worker B thinks the same.

DAY ONE: Worker A, full name Theodore Langley Stromberg, whistles as he works. The heating system is acting up again so his office is colder than usual. His fingers hurt as he presses the metal nodes into the clay ball. Worker B, full name Amanda Lynn Castellano, is sweating and in her underwear. The heat is well over the comfortable level in her office and the windows weren't made to be opened. Her door is locked in case Theo should pay a visit. She goes over the delivery log. For the first time in her 8 months at the station the helicopter didn't show the day before to make a scheduled drop. She double and triple checks to make sure the mistake isn't hers.

DAY TWO: Theo wakes up to the sound of a distant helicopter. He gets up and gets dressed slowly, not eager to unload supplies at 20 below. He runs into Amanda in the tunnel. They walk together to Building One without much chit chat. When they get outside the helicopter is no where to be seen. "Maybe I was imagining it," says Theo. Amanda frowns. "I heard it too."
They start the day without dwelling on it too much. The heating system is back to normal. As darkness sets in Amanda sees some lights in the on the horizon through her window. It unnerves her a bit. The nearest point with any electricity is a few hundred miles away.

DAY THREE: Around lunchtime Amanda calls Theo on the speaker phone. No answer. She decides to walk to his office to see if he wants to eat together. She strolls down the length of the building eyeing the byzantine tube system. She gets to Theo's door and knocks. No answer. She opens the door. No Theo. Must be eating already. When she gets to the living area she is surprised that he isn't there either. Maybe he caught a cold; he was complaining about his office being a glorified ice cave. She knocks on the door to his room. No answer. She opens it slowly. Empty room. He's gotta be in the bathroom. She knocks. She knocks again. "Theo?"
Just open the door, she tells herself. If he's jerking off or taking a crap, so be it. You'll say you're sorry. She opens the door. In the bathtub there is an oversized sphere, much like the models that Theo makes, nodes and all, but much bigger. This sphere is the size of large sofa chair and it isn't made out of clay but glistening meat. The nodes are fistsized lumps of wet flesh. It seems to be gurgling. It smells awful. It is awful.

DAY TWENTY-THREE: Building One is on fire. Building Two is cracked in the center and spewing out black smoke. Building Three is intact. The antennas on the rooftop are crackling with green electricity. It hums.

JOUST

When I was about 12 or 13 I thought a joust with a friend might be a swell way to pass the time. We wouldn't be riding horses though, we would simply run towards each another. Instead of lances as weapons we would use our legs to kick as soon as we were in striking distance. My backyard, flat but with hills on either side, would be the arena.

We both walked up the grassy inclines, made sure we were ready and with a knightly yell sprinted wildly to meet our fate at the center of the yard. With all of our might we swung a leg in hopes of disabling one another. Our shins connected with a violent crack. We howled in pain on the ground for quite some time. Such was our agony that we both lost consciousness.

I awoke and it was dark. It was raining. I looked over to see the shape of my friend who was still out cold. I went over to him and called out. He didn't respond. There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the whole yard. His head was missing. The slugs had also eaten a large portion of his ribcage and arm as well. I ran inside to get some salt.

xxx
BVE

Book One

The man who conducted the stage coach was dressed in black right down to his cloak. You might not have caught this if it wasn't for the bandages that completely obscured his face and neck. He tugged at the horse leashes and yelled for them to stop when they came to a narrow alleyway right past the Geordie's General store. He now bellowed at the beasts by name and the whole mass of wood, iron, flesh and bone groaned to the left and disappeared down the alley.

A store owner with a thick mustache stood outside a slim opening on the side of the building. The conductor of the coach slapped the reins. Horse grunts and wheels stopping. Dust. The bandaged man stepped down. He walked over to the back of the buggy with keys in hand and unlocked a small door. He took out a trunk the size of a whiskey barrel and set it in front of the store owner. Mr. Mustache opened the case and examined the bottles. He nodded and gave the bandaged man a thick envelope. Bills were counted twice. All there. See you in six weeks.

The store owner slammed the metal door shut behind him. The faceless conductor walked around the coach but before he could step up to his seat he saw a grim figure in his way. A grim figure with a shiny gun pointed right at him. The conductor heard some steps behind him. Two more trigger happy men.

What you want? The gunmen didn't answer. They sure did smile though. Their boots gave them away as gold digger. Well, ex-gold diggers. Losers. Couldn't cut the sifting life so they went straight for the snatch and grab.

The one with the polished gun spoke. What we want, you got. What you got, you need. A man don't need nothin if he wearin nothin but holes.

Idiots. Put those shooters away. You can have whatever you want.

Hmmm. Don't reckon you gonna walk out of this one.

The inference was made. Three shots were fired. Smoke crept up out of the conductors cloak. He was standing, the others were not. He put his guns back in their holsters. There was still something wrong. These sorry excuses for shit weren't too bright. How did they know about what he was carrying?

The conductor was of a keen intellect. His shooting skills, however, won out in the speed category. Had it been reversed he would've been long gone, or at least not in the spot of the anvil that brought death from above.

The brute on the roof ran down stairs and out to the alley way. A gorilla of a man he was. And faster than whore out for wallet. He jumped over the two gold diggers. He reached down and pulled off the conductor's boots and pants. There it was. One of his legs had been cut off at the knee. The rest of it was wood and leather straps. The gorilla brute sliced off the straps and removed the wooden appendage. A strange bounty to be sure but that's what he had been paid to acquire.

He had also been asked to keep things quiet and clean. That hadn't worked out that well, but there was always a way to polish things just so. He put the anvil and the four bodies in the coach. After riding a fair bit into the desert under night's cover he let one horse go free and held on to the other for himself. A bit of kerosene, a match and kicking the rock out from under the wheel made for a roaring fireball that crept down the hilly road like a train car that had just come outta hell.

MESSO-POT-MANIA

It is not wise or prudent to sail the seas of olive oil on a makeshift raft of sausages; the sharks below sense the oily meat in the water. There will be a few minutes of relaxation while they are distracted by floating garlic. The disintegrating pats of butter that slowly descend into the blackness of the ocean floor will help as well. But once they understand the ruse and comprehend the con they will converge on the doomed craft like 23 mustached men racing to finish that rare Bulgarian Beer. The only difference between both beasts is that the stout swilling swine will belch loudly and the menacing finned monsters will do so quietly.

If you run fast enough you may skip upon floating pancakes like a lizard on a lilypad. Over and over, in a circle even, will you run out in the middle of a vast body of maple syrup. In the middle of the circle of the twenty-three thousand flapjacks is a very large mine made of metal. When it explodes one must be standing on the right pancake at the right time. The tell tale sign on this disk made of flour,egg and milk is a pentagram formed by 23 chocolate chips. From blueberry to golden brown.

To E is crucial, to EVB is divine.

SELL YOUR YOID

Alright folks. Quiet on the set. Slate. Kill. Ok, 3,2,1.......action. Lights are hot. Cameras roll like heads down a craggy canyon. The action unfolds. The soundguy's shoulders are burning. All night foley parties are fueled by digital recorders and much din. From the outside the studio looks like a warehouse in the dark. On the inside small bricks are being poured. They will harden and then be used to construct a bridge. You, the viewer, will cross this structure. When you get to the other side you shall baptize your journey with alms to the broken toothed beggar with phony crutches. He will be wearing a shirt with the image of either a 16 year old female jogger or of an anaconda eating its tail.

When the lights are out and the clock is ticking, do you long for sleep or do you want to consume from the cup until there is nothing left but sleep?

xxx
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

BRAINS BETWEEN BOARD

The longer the list, the more I cringe. "Things to do" becomes another line to stand in. Panthers, Tigers and Lions roam the street. They wait in the dark. People have stopped taking evening strolls because of this. Making or creating things that can be destroyed or consumed quicker seem to be lit up with integrity. I see people from my building at the store. I see them later walking down the hall. A quick hello and they are off to make a dent in the twelve pack in their arms. Sokoban means "warehouse man" in Japanese.

I walk through a sea of mud. Can't see shit. It's difficult to get from point A to point X.

A hall of mirrors by moonlight is an excuse to lock the door.

Cloaked and croaked, black ink seeps from the brick laying at the bottom of a swamp.

If I put the E back in the V will the B return to the E before the V can become B?

E+V=B

LET'S GET MYSTERIOUS (for D.L)

The smoke that comes from the sofa is a white plume; as if there was a giant exhaling a cigar within. But look at the photo. The plume clearly begins a good foot above from the surface of the sofa.

Listen to the noises outside. Bugs or birds, right? Well, how can you be sure?

The person you pass in the hallway of your apartment building. When they shut the door behind them a transformation occurs.

fd8werfwer032402.

Code or Chaos?

Is this what you really want to be doing, meme or not?

Allghoi khorkhoi. Google that turdball.

Every letter I type was a letter before and will be; but never in the same place twice.

Is it really time to go to bed?

Is it why you would wanna freacho dellasek the mano?

Stand in that line to get pumped.

Owl Verner Herzogg.

Quick, the last
little bit.

Singe.

Oh.

I.

Jupiter.

Faux-bose.

"los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos, los romanos,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,evb

THEY HATE MY TREE DOMES

The zipper people don't like me. Although they always want me to open them up. The Blue lipped people are neither here nor there. They carry strange instruments in boxes. And what of the face at the end of the hall? If it peaks out slowly its mask comes off. Too bad when I get there the thing has fled. The inside of the mask is hot. Like a swamp. Willo-the-wisp detection is a misunderstood craft and profession.

Just what the hell am I going on about? Look up Danil Kharms. He was funnier than a base jumper with bad timing. Look up Harry Crews. Truer than the moon rollin round the world. Look up Najwa Nimri. Hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night. Look up KY Jelly. Firetruck in a doghouse.

Codex construction is a mountain and I haven't even found the map. Maybe a piece of it.

EVB will EVB before the EVB comes to EVB

ROOM ESCAPE

You wake up to discover yourself in a room different than you last knew when you went to sleep. It's 12 foot square, painted a horrible tangerine and has one window (the size of a postage stamp) and one door, locked of course. The only items in the room are a bed, dresser, desk, trashcan and nightstand. After you truly come to terms with this situation you begin to see if you can find someway to escape. A coin in the trashcan can't help, can it? The view out of the window is that of a volcano. Whose sick joke is this? What about the polished sphere under the bed? Someone is slipping notes under the door. What the fuck language is that? It will take you a while to figure out to tear open the pillow; cascading from within are feathers, all of them dark and mottled except for one that is a shiny dark blue. It's not making sense. Don't worry, it gets worse.

xxx

Edo Verimis Barbaricus

BUSTED NOGGIN

I hear a robot in the wings that speaks of a low mortgage and the impossiblity of affording a dwelling in the NOVA area. I hear the same robot say many things. Over and over. Learn a language. Memorize phrases. Stock text for communication. Ones and zeros. An entire menu of possible responses. A crib sheet. The missions people select. The great falls that we live through; alive for a few hours at the bottom hoping help will come. Scribbled digits on square yellow paper with an adhesive strip on the reverse. Smeared with ashes. Smeared with wine. Smeared with the very lead from the pencil the note was written with. A phone line that has ceased to function as intended. Saved messages from last week. A voice replayed, hell, a video replayed until the image is smeared with grain. A DVD that freezes. Sticky keyboard felgus. One more cigarette and I'll consider laying my head down upon a very thin pillow. Tomorrow spawns multitudes of crawling beings. Ants will eat the carcass.

Exploring Volumes Because i can

SWORD FOR THE GEORD

to the north
there are three
they are bald women
albino, naked and baslik-eyed
thier mouths red and fanged

to the south
there are six
hooded figures
in hot air balloons
with sacks of sand
pale faces
and heavy stones in hand

to the east
is a temple
obscured by pillars
with nine ways to get in
but only one way to leave

to the west
a giant bee mound
who hover above their home
forming an eye of dajjal

the sword on my person
used to belong to a chevalier
the cross-guard in the shape of grapes
inside the hilt is poison
should my mission fail

under four suns
six moons
and thirteen stars
the exact location
of my compass
eludes me

Emigro Vindex Baro

THIS SPACE BETWEEN

The jackass to my left is a dog fucker. The cops found him screwing his pug, Sushi, in the ass. He had wedged the poor thing in between the mattress and the boxspring and went to town. Only thing worse than a dog fucker is a cat fucker.

The dumb dick to my right is just about as smart as a box of rocks. He smiles too much and has a tattoo of a dragon on his chest but given the quality of the ink in this kip you might think it's a retarded worm on fire. He's in for murder. One night he told me all about it.

Seems his girl was into the occult; egyptian black magic to be precise. She was a real bitch, he said. But quite the reverse when it came to the ol anal sex. She'd have him hammer away down there and tell him to pull out and look up her open hole. "What do you see?!" she would demand. "It's dark in there. Real dark." She'd urge him to get a lighter but it was all over for him in the dick department by that time. She wouldn't talk to him for days.

One night she told him of a plan she had for eternal life. After some half-baked ritual, she wanted him to cut her into five pieces and place them in a specific order in some clay jars she'd found in an antique shop. The lid on the jars were shaped like animal heads. One of them reminded him of some bird of prey, an eagle or some shit. So they did the hocus pocus and he went through with it. After cleaning off the saw blade he did as he was instructed. The head went in one, the arms in the second, the legs in the next and the torso in the other. He drove them down to the river and tossed them in. Too bad a state pig was parked under a tree with his lights off.

The trial was quick. His day in the chair is next year sometime; maybe the year after next. The creepiest thing is that he claims that the ritual worked. She supposedly materialized in the next county over. He's shown me letters written to him by the witch bitch. I don't know what to say to him. Not only is he a dumb dick but he's a loon as well.

As far as I'm concerned, I am not into animals, children or sports equiptment. Never killed a man that didn't need killin. I think my brain works ok as long as I'm doing something. Too much time on my hands is a bad, bad thing. Freefall of the brain is my downfall. Makes me want to do chemicals I shouldn't be doing. After jamming way too many substances into my bloodstream I decided to cool out. And that's when I ran into J. He was an old dealer friend that I hadn't seen in ages. He casually tells me about something called the "Volchok Box." It's a wooden box that has the image of a wolf head carved on the lid. I asked him what the contents were. "Drugs, player. Real good drugs. Drugs people never heard of."

He owed me a favor so I got a number from him. A few calls were made. A meeting. Another number. I had plenty of money and J vouched for me. I didn't get all the fuckin around. Finally after three days of BS I get a call. Meet a dude down by the old greyhound station in a run down laundromat. We go to the back and there's some people there. Hard faces. A table with a gun on it. The deal was that we were to play a bit of Ruskie Roulette until there was only one man alive. The Volchok Box sat in the corner. When it started getting light out there were three bodies on the floor. Me and another guy sat at the table. And the box of course.

I had developed a real bad spasm in my upper lip. Probably the meth from the night before. It was the other guy's turn. I ask him, "You really want to go again? We could both walk out that door. Get a beer or something." He looked at me and sneered. "I ain't a punk you bucket-head bitch." He put it to his temple and pulled the trigger. Boom. I flipped the table over in mad, wound-up triumph. I tried to not get blood on my shoes walking over to the box but it was impossible.

Inside was a egg. It looked like pressed cocaine and I felt let down. But it didn't smell like coke. It smelled like wet wood, like a pile of lumber in the rain. I broke it in my hand and within the chalky residue there was another smaller egg. This one was wooden. In the middle was a seam. I screwed it open. Another egg. This one was made of stone. It had a seam also, but lacked threading. Inside was the last one. It looked and felt like a mini avocado. I squeezed out the root ball and ate the fucker.

When I woke up the game was over. Son of a bee sting. Yellow tape, red lights and potbellied assclowns in blue. Yup. Busted. Wouldn't buy the Roulette story. I was fucked. But you know what? However long I was gone on that egg pill trip was something I'll never get anyone to comprehend or believe. There was another world. A world of fog, crags and walkways of suspended logs. I went to this place. It was real. And I want to go back. I heard the Volchok Boxes aren't being made anymore. I got a few leads on some folks just sittin on them though.

So who is the real crazy? You can call me whatever you want, I could give a shit. One thing I'm not is a liar. Or a thief. Or a dog fucker.


xxx
EVB

PURGE

Pencils I never use but one day might. Sketches that are still being weighed on the scale that tips between nostalgia and useful observation of progress. Photos of people that once were about but now are not. Dumb t-shirts that should be converted to rags. Forty pounds and counting of thick lard underneath my skin at several different points.

The list is long and unimportant.

As is this piece of writing.

"The planting of trees is the least self-centered of all that we can do. It is a purer act of faith than the procreation of children." --Thorton Wilder

xxx
EVB

Q and A

evb: What has eight balls and screws you to death?
evb2: Lottery

evb: Why are salt crystals so irritating to the skin?
evb2: Nano-glass?

evb: Do you tattoo dicks?
evb2: Day in and day out, where do you want it?

evb: What is the meaning of the real cukoo?
evb2: Bucket-head bitch of course!

evb: Where are you located?
evb2: Right in front of the Nissan dealership.
evb: You mean Chase Honda?
evb2: No. The Nissan dealership.

evb: May I speak to the owner or manager?
evb2: He's not here.
evb: Do you know when a good time to call back is?
evb2: Five years?
evb: Now why you gotta say something ridiculous like that?
evb2: Because you're ridiculous.

evb: What is the weirdest tattoo you have ever done?
evb2: This sad looking bearded dude that has some sort of head gear fashioned out of thorns.
Or the image of two hands clapping.

EVB

PRINCESS OF THEE PEARLS (for L.B.G.M)

At 2am yesterday I got up out of bed to go take a piss. I was still half asleep when I got to the toilet. There is a small vent in the corner of my bathroom. This is an old building so the vent is nothing more than a metal grate painted over countless times. It is missing a fan for proper extraction and removal of air. From this tiny opening I heard the faint sound of frogs and squeeking. I imagined a throne made of pearl on metal wheels; like the first rollerskates. On this throne sits a red-haired girl with the creamiest white skin ever. Charlie Brown would have beat Snoopy to death with his swollen member had he lain eyes on her. Pushing this royal chair: 23 small monkies but with the head of frogs. They slap each other frequently when they run into each other. She remains blank faced. Her only garment is a very tight blue t-shirt with the image of a burning snail in gold ink. On her head, carved out of a rare wood, sits a crown that is home to two types of small worms. One that perpetually bores through the wood, the other that fills in the microscopic tunnels. The princess never sweats and will eventually be given a fool's scepter so that she may brain her simian chauffeurs. Once the massacre is complete she can strip off her singular item of clothing and pump out a few sit-ups and push-ups in the glistening puddles of viscera being careful not to upset the crown. The key phrase is "slow controlled movements." Elsewhere, perhaps from the elevator shaft, comes the odor of sizzling sausages swiftly searing, sending scores scampering. New Orleans jazz crackles from an old speaker in the lobby.

PALINDROMES, PEPE and PRESLIK

Ah, Satan sees Natasha. A Toyota. Camus sees sumac. These sentences are Palindromes. Read them left to right or right to left. The first one I ever learned was "a man, a plan, a canal--Panama." The concept might one day have some practical use; until then it is a textual bauble.

Pepe. His last name starts with a P as well. His longtime girl's name starts with a P too. He is part thug, part idea man. He is missing a pinky finger. He used to be a bodygaurd for some shady government officials. He once gave me the shirt off his back at lunch because I told him it was cool. He wants to die a drunk in the gutter in New Orleans. He used to be a masked wrestler. He introduced me to some Columbian and Russian whores. I liked the Russian ones; we drew, drank and laughed. The Columbian ones were merely depressed, but I couldn't hold it against them. He used to pick his ear with his car key. He would vanish for days and then show up all tomato-eyed. He spent some time in a German prison. He once burned a human body part and sniffed the ashes.

Preslik. It means pretzel in Czech. She draws things that floor me. I'm glad I met her. She's said the same about me in an altered state. I fight with her more than I fight with anyone. She's
a boy with a box. She makes movies starring her cat. She is no stranger to the beauty of the perodactyl noise.

Next up: Paper airplanes, Purple Planets, Pure', and a heaping helping of PLEZ.

xxx

Oh yeah, poop is a palindrome. As is toot, gag and eke. KAYAK!!
EVB

ANGSTROMS

What Is an Angstrom?

Electromagnetic radiation travels in waves. Scientists use the length of the wave (the distance between peaks) to define the energy of the radiation. Astronomers measure this length in "angstroms," a unit of measure equal to 1 hundred-millionth of a centimeter. It's a convenient shorthand to avoid writing lots of zeroes when talking about the wavelengths of light. In everyday terms, a sheet of paper is approximately 1,000,000 angstroms thick. Visible light covers the range from 4,000 to 8,000 angstroms.

Thanks to my buddy Seth for this illumination. I was all set to start a rant on microns (a single hair is 20 to 100 microns wide) and then he messed it all up.

It's all about measuring and you can't measure unless you observe and to observe you have to wake the hell up.

EVB

SLIP AND SLIDE

I damn Minoru Abe. Who the hell does he think he is? I have solved Man and Woman but in such an excess of moves that I couldn't even consider notching my belt on that one.

I sneer at Nob Yoshigahara, but not too much since I have actually plotted and documented the correct move solution to his No-Off work. Here it is:

O down, N right, lamp right, O up, F left, F left, O left, N down, lamp right, O right, F up, F left, O down, lamp left, N up, O right, O right, F right, F down, lamp left,
O up, O left, N down, O right, lamp right, F up, F left, O left, N left, O down,
lamp right, O up, F right, F down, O left, lamp left, O up, N right, F right, F right,
O down, lamp left, O left, N up.

Rodolfo Kurchan might just be the biggest bastard though. IPP 19 is supposedly 26 moves. You'd think with a low move count and a mere 5 pieces that it would be easy to crack. Well, not for me anyway.

Go here and decipher the correct pathways of these mechanical constructs.

http://www.johnrausch.com/SlidingBlockPuzzles/default.htm

EVB