The $6M Question is…

Q: Why are you so busy?

A: I’m busy killing ZOMBIES

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In other news, I’ve fallen in love with Coldplay again (which isn’t too hard, considering the pile-o-sh*t that was XYZ). And ho boy, Weezer, finally! you make me feel all young and viral again.

The General Consensus is to Not Panic

Suddenly. Oh Shit! I’m busy!

Have Faith in the Robots

I love it when an autoflush flushes. When it actually works. When that red button starts to flash vehemently…a moment of anticipation, and then…FLUSH (hell, yeah)! To me, that’s like saying: Here is Technology – Divine Product of Man, Shrivel in its Splendid Awesome-ness!

Because that’s magic.

When technology works, that to me means: Everything’s alright with the world, for just a second. For once, a thing did what it was supposed to do, what it was meant to do.

Because autoflushes either tend to flush too soon or never (to which manual labor is required).

Because we live in a world that is entirely arbitrary; where things go wrong on a nearly constant basis.

and Because I am incredulous by nature.

I find it unbelievable that a toilet can take care of itself.

So.

The next time those sensors go off, and the cascade of ever-flowing waters greet you at just the right moment? Let’s have a nice round of applause folks, let’s give it up for Humanity! Clap!

(At least we got one thing right).

Remarks on an Epileptic Fit from The Chaucerian Tale of Boy Johnny

The strobe light hits my face, I am down for the count. I suppose life slows down a-beat, when your body decides to tumble/crash down the sides of the mental road. It ain’t a pretty picture doctor. Life, and times. Times a-stopping, and the heat of the June tarmac hits me. I feel the pain, registering, processing, directed to management, pulled up to the board, and discursively placed in an out-tray for Future Notice.

It isn’t the pain that gets me.

It’s the startling sense of embarrassment. I look stupid, this I know. My legs kicking the sands, my hands stiffening in spasms, my eyes rocking and rolling. Everything’s magnified when life slows down a-beat. My mouth starts to froth, and I’m gasping for air. There’s too much of it in a second, and now I’m choking on my own vomit. That’s the taste of a cheeseburger from my guts. That’s the smell of diet Pepsi from my intestines. I’m paralyzed for an instant – liminality reeks of piss and shit. A sequential moment of embarrassment – I’m a-fucked doctor.

A Free Man, I know nought the tastes of such splendid sights!

They lost me last night,

in the middle of supper,

when the dogs were let loose,

I was already halfway across the fields, panting, hard breathing, legs burdened,

When the sirens came,

I was working my feeble

way

across

the marshes, the tide’s coming in, the wind’s pushing out.

Out and

over.

I croak and pant,

I thirst

I curse.

When they shot the flares,

I was on the piers, naked.

I’d thrown the uniform

under

the bridge.

It was just as well that the rains had started –

no one on the docks.

No one on the docks, except for her.

Her hair flamboyant, her face drenched in cold drizzle.

Purple trench coat in the breeze:

“Dude…What took you so long?”

Ah.

Sweet Bella Donna,

Drag Queen of my fates, my freedoms,

Fire of my loins.

Is there no wrong thing your lips may say?

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Woot.

The holi-holi-holidays art here. And with them, the empty promises of free time, and the little bits of “What the fuck am I doing with my life” that come fleetingly by – like a passing troupe of polka playing mariachis high on Happy Meals and soda pop.

Anyway.

I’m planning work on a book – it’s been on the sidelines for most of the semester, so I’m dusting off the ideas, putting them back in place, and praying to hell that somehow they all fit.

Also.

I’m planning work on a graphic project – it’ll probably be a postcard collection that I’ll try developing for friends in exchange for $. It’ll go for funding the “Help Get Carrick Escape from Singapore : Charity”.

And.

I’ve been embracing The Killers of late. There’s just something about minor chords and single note rhythms that arbitrarily causes my heart to move and my ass to shake, spontaneously.

Ooh la la.

I should be updating more often, now that the transient nature of my life just flashed past my eyes, and I’m blinded like a fucktard.

(In other news, Ironman was great. I now have a man-crush on Robert Downey Jr. and am motivated to grow an awesome goatee imbued with super powers.)