Thursday, September 14, 2006
Excerpt From An Immodest Proposal
"...How about a rendezvouz? How bout breathing deep the bold bouquet of brotherhood? How bout drawing long on the frothy flavors of good fellowship and fraternity? How bout singing a song that cant be silenced--a song who's ony words are "we are here; we are now; we are"? How bout setting sail on Nicolai's warm winds as he reads to us his paper on the homoeroticism of the title, Moby Dick? How bout reenacting all those nights when Lil Gapper would claim he was "unclean" and beg us to douse him in soy milk? How bout retracing all those gentle steps we trod to save Guy after he had accidentally swallowed a spork, again? How bout us?.."
"Thirty spokes join together in the hub. It is because of what is not there that the cart is useful. Clay is formed into a vessel. It is because of its emptiness that the vessel is useful. Cut doors and windows to make a room. It is because of its emptiness that the room is useful. Therefore, what is present is used for profit. But it is in absence that there is usefulness."
The ancient masters have debated the meaning of this saying since time immemorial but it probably just means that it's ok that you're stupid.
The ancient masters have debated the meaning of this saying since time immemorial but it probably just means that it's ok that you're stupid.
The Untold Story of St. Louis
As the sun slowly rises under the arch we cannot help but think of the exultation and enthusiasm that must have dawned in the first explorers as they thought they had finally reached the end of this great nation only to see the sun set on those hopes as their worst fears were all too clearly true--they were only halfway across. True many of those self-same explorers grew disenchanted and hardened at this and went on to lead mean lives on the river, stealing what bits of sandwich and hooch they could from those around--though they could never steal back what was so mercilessly torn from their own breast--and eventually were unable to stay afloat in the rising waters of their own shame. Though their lives proved desperate and fruitless a city was born.
Excerpted Intimations of Divine Order from Youthful Memories
...Weekends like that force us to ask ourselves whether we are really bound by our predetermined fates or only by the limits of our imaginations. Was it long written in the stars that I was supposed to run headlong into that salad bar? Was it just an understandable misstep punctuating a night of fancy? Did the dark one in his fondness for chicanery move it closer with a wicked hand? Is there some grand design that choreographed the weaving blows that Gentleman Johnny and I exchanged like a skilled seamstress? Was it for the sake of dramatic flourish that he waited until our second round to put molten lava in my veins and steely death in my eyes? Why did he not do the same for Gentleman Johnny , instead deciding that he should be stopped--knowing, no doubt, that whomever weeped for Gentleman Johnny, weeped for treachery and deceit? Will we ever know? Well, it seems like an awful coincidence if I weren't put on this earth to have told Jerry Joe that his dance, rehearsed as it was, looked like a clipped goose trying to take flight ...
Excerpt From a Chain E-mail
"...If you're receiving this forward you have already been chosen for bad luck. You have no way of telling when this curse will manifest itself. I would stay away from anvils, dynamite and reptile houses in the zoo. Feel free to forward this to whomever you like, you little tomcat..."
Excerpted Quote From a Guy Who Gets Things Done
"...Well then perhaps I can do my Tongan fertility dance to try to bring an end to this rain by instead making Fat Bobby as fertile as the Mississippi Delta..."
Excerpt From an Advice Column
"...I agree. You wouldnt have such sensitive nipples today if you hadn't rubbed them with turkey grease every night until you were 12..."
Excerpt From a Fan Letter
"...Thought maybe you'd like to be the celebrity front of our organization here--the national order of yaffet kotto enthusiasts (kotto refused--we're looking for a fresh face anyway as we near the new millenium). Something tells me you've got just the spunk to make the hearts of those who'd stand against us go all-a-twitter. Well mull it over. Now back to the majesty of that dream within a dream that's sometimes called plankton..."
WHAT FOLK WISDOM MIGHT INSTRUCT ONE TO DO IF LIFE GAVE THEM PRODUCE BESIDES LEMONS:
1) When life gives you broccoli relax and enjoy nature’s intestinal broom
2) When life gives you pineapples feel free to brain passersby
3) When life gives you mushrooms there’s romance in the air
4) When life gives you pre-washed miniature spinach look for changes at the office and/or hang on for the ride of your life.
5) When life gives you yams go ahead and accept that you need a stronger under-arm deodorant than most.
6) When life gives you passion fruit, be sure not to miss Dogs With Jobs on Animal Planet—they sure seem only too happy to work, what’s your problem?
7) When life gives you blood oranges you will be betrayed by someone close to you—that is, unless you get them first.
8) When life gives you sprouts go ahead and make lemonade anyway—it’s a burst of country-fresh refreshment.
1) When life gives you broccoli relax and enjoy nature’s intestinal broom
2) When life gives you pineapples feel free to brain passersby
3) When life gives you mushrooms there’s romance in the air
4) When life gives you pre-washed miniature spinach look for changes at the office and/or hang on for the ride of your life.
5) When life gives you yams go ahead and accept that you need a stronger under-arm deodorant than most.
6) When life gives you passion fruit, be sure not to miss Dogs With Jobs on Animal Planet—they sure seem only too happy to work, what’s your problem?
7) When life gives you blood oranges you will be betrayed by someone close to you—that is, unless you get them first.
8) When life gives you sprouts go ahead and make lemonade anyway—it’s a burst of country-fresh refreshment.
POSSIBLE BEGINNINGS TO THE MARCH OF EVENTS WHICH ENDED WITH THE ENTRYWAY OF MY FORMER BUILDING BEING BEFOULED (if they were fancifully chronicled):
1) As she stepped onto the veranda a warm wind whipped across the street picking up the faint scent of shabu shabu…
2) Vance Diddlehopper had always thought of himself as somewhat of a beau brummel…
3) At first blush, the idea of reconstituting someone’s colon with fiberglass seemed the stuff of science fiction…
4) “Why no, I never have rolled my own sausage,” replied Anderson…
5) Shwartzberg had known nights like these before--high dew point, low barometric pressure, hanging cloud formations--and they'd always spelled trouble of a strange sort...
6) Bhuela Jenks stopped as she noticed herself mouthing the lines she'd rehearsed and then decided to say it one last time: "You're out of the gastrointerology game for good Dr. Splotznik,"...
1) As she stepped onto the veranda a warm wind whipped across the street picking up the faint scent of shabu shabu…
2) Vance Diddlehopper had always thought of himself as somewhat of a beau brummel…
3) At first blush, the idea of reconstituting someone’s colon with fiberglass seemed the stuff of science fiction…
4) “Why no, I never have rolled my own sausage,” replied Anderson…
5) Shwartzberg had known nights like these before--high dew point, low barometric pressure, hanging cloud formations--and they'd always spelled trouble of a strange sort...
6) Bhuela Jenks stopped as she noticed herself mouthing the lines she'd rehearsed and then decided to say it one last time: "You're out of the gastrointerology game for good Dr. Splotznik,"...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
dodgeball v. bombardment
In dodgeball hitting an opponent in the face is sufficient to sideline them. In bombardment, you hit someone in the face and they're still in, which, to the industrious or the depraved affords the opportunity to repeatedly hit the weak in the face without them having any hope of finding sanctuary by being forced to sit out.
Excerpted Memories of a Past Birthday As Gleaned From Thoughts the Following Day
Well, another one hung on the line. The confetti and streamers that winded through the air are now settled on the ground; the smell now begining to subside; those that passed through it now in agreement that it was human feces; the finery now put away or replaced; the french horns now silent...
The Tojo Chronicles September 1, 1912
All of this writing has given that little voice inside my head (that sounds like my Bubby but who i call Tojo) an opportunity to be a bit of a roust-about, unmonitored as he is in my need to train my focus on more pressing matters. Today, he told me to tell a girl that I didnt like her shirt. I didn't, in fact, like her shirt but Tojo told her it made her look like a post-apocolyptic ostrich hyena cross-germ. Her response was surprisingly favorable.
Last night i dreamt of a beagle and the great pacific northwest. Dreams of beagles have foretold romance for me in the past but they carry with them an unmistakeable warning to stay away from broths or bouillon cubes. While in the pacific northwest water-wonderland, don calloway--a fat, boyhood friend who once told me that if you ever run out of things to say to a girl "just ask her what she likes to eat,"--was injured when his legs gave way beneath the weight of his toiling mass as he tried to run along a brook. But I had no time to be a gloomy gus about it with all that water to splash around in!
Last night i dreamt of a beagle and the great pacific northwest. Dreams of beagles have foretold romance for me in the past but they carry with them an unmistakeable warning to stay away from broths or bouillon cubes. While in the pacific northwest water-wonderland, don calloway--a fat, boyhood friend who once told me that if you ever run out of things to say to a girl "just ask her what she likes to eat,"--was injured when his legs gave way beneath the weight of his toiling mass as he tried to run along a brook. But I had no time to be a gloomy gus about it with all that water to splash around in!
Dear Sir:
I live alone. This is by my own design as I don't like people touching my things or eating my mild cheese spreads. Please don't take me for a misanthrope. It's not that I don't trust my fellow man. It's just that I won't give them the opportunity to betray me again. Still, I would entertain the idea of receiving guests into my apartment--one at a time, with sufficient advance notice, so long as they bore gifts (or at least greeting cards or paper towels).
The problem is since no one has been in my apartment since I took my oath to secure the borders of my efficiency or die trying, I really cannot be sure if it smells. To be sure, I find a pleasant odor commonly curling through the air which is no more objectionable than a piece of toast or chicken Ala king. Indeed, I have always thought of myself as invariably sweet smelling, descended from a long line of softly musky lawmen and notaries. But I've found, as I'm sure you have, that the human condition affords us a great capacity for acclimating to foreign effluvia. In short, I feel that I cannot trust my own sense of smell. But, I would be simply mortified if I finally put down my arms to welcome back into my inner sanctum those whom I had summarily banished all those years ago, only to see a look flash over their cursed little faces of having smelled something foul--because who are they to stand in judgment with their mean little lives replete with wrist-watches, mouth wash, 3 alarm chili, tropical fruit medleys, and upright vacuums?
My question is: is there a way of determining if my apartment smells without inviting someone in for their opinion? I appreciate your counsel.
Faithfully Submitted,
Phylis Stein
long-distance hurler
I live alone. This is by my own design as I don't like people touching my things or eating my mild cheese spreads. Please don't take me for a misanthrope. It's not that I don't trust my fellow man. It's just that I won't give them the opportunity to betray me again. Still, I would entertain the idea of receiving guests into my apartment--one at a time, with sufficient advance notice, so long as they bore gifts (or at least greeting cards or paper towels).
The problem is since no one has been in my apartment since I took my oath to secure the borders of my efficiency or die trying, I really cannot be sure if it smells. To be sure, I find a pleasant odor commonly curling through the air which is no more objectionable than a piece of toast or chicken Ala king. Indeed, I have always thought of myself as invariably sweet smelling, descended from a long line of softly musky lawmen and notaries. But I've found, as I'm sure you have, that the human condition affords us a great capacity for acclimating to foreign effluvia. In short, I feel that I cannot trust my own sense of smell. But, I would be simply mortified if I finally put down my arms to welcome back into my inner sanctum those whom I had summarily banished all those years ago, only to see a look flash over their cursed little faces of having smelled something foul--because who are they to stand in judgment with their mean little lives replete with wrist-watches, mouth wash, 3 alarm chili, tropical fruit medleys, and upright vacuums?
My question is: is there a way of determining if my apartment smells without inviting someone in for their opinion? I appreciate your counsel.
Faithfully Submitted,
Phylis Stein
long-distance hurler
THINGS THAT MAY HAVE TRANSPIRED WHILE MY EYES WERE JUST MOMENTARILY FORCED SHUT BY THE SURGE OF A COMING SNEEZE (as they may explain the state of things in front of me just after—i.e., a guy giving me a dirty look):
1) man across from me realized that he had not cried since he was a boy and quickly sought to hide from an ocean of feelings that had gone unexplored for a long time by giving me a look of disapproval.
2) man shot out of my nose landing across from me and was immediately filled with a sense of anger at being detached from the comfort he had known while living in the womb-like, cozy confines of my inner sanctum.
3) man across from me suddenly seized with the unmistakable fear that he may never be loved the way he loved others could only glare at the essential cruelty of life which he saw inexorably issuing from my nose.
4) man across from me, who had only just noticed me, immediately assumed that I had taken, and now wore, his favorite shirt which read “what part of bad don’t you understand?” The look which flashed across his face at this revelation finds sufficient explanation in the shirt’s message.
5) man across from me filled with a sense of hope at finding fleeting sanctuary from my look of disapproval could only feel anger once I trained my sights on him once more.
6) man across from me was quickly reminded how much he hates people who lack the discipline to stop sneezing.
7) man across from me was reminded of how he used to pinch his nose when he'd sneeze until his equilibrium was forever ruined forcing him to sit while he pees.
1) man across from me realized that he had not cried since he was a boy and quickly sought to hide from an ocean of feelings that had gone unexplored for a long time by giving me a look of disapproval.
2) man shot out of my nose landing across from me and was immediately filled with a sense of anger at being detached from the comfort he had known while living in the womb-like, cozy confines of my inner sanctum.
3) man across from me suddenly seized with the unmistakable fear that he may never be loved the way he loved others could only glare at the essential cruelty of life which he saw inexorably issuing from my nose.
4) man across from me, who had only just noticed me, immediately assumed that I had taken, and now wore, his favorite shirt which read “what part of bad don’t you understand?” The look which flashed across his face at this revelation finds sufficient explanation in the shirt’s message.
5) man across from me filled with a sense of hope at finding fleeting sanctuary from my look of disapproval could only feel anger once I trained my sights on him once more.
6) man across from me was quickly reminded how much he hates people who lack the discipline to stop sneezing.
7) man across from me was reminded of how he used to pinch his nose when he'd sneeze until his equilibrium was forever ruined forcing him to sit while he pees.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Monday, September 11, 2006
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