Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Magician's Supplement
Aaron pops into Max's open door with a shit eating grin on his bony face. Max tries not to stare while his face is covered in his textbook, "Intro to Bio-Ethics." He stands at the door for quite some time, waiting for a greeting or even some attention, just that loose conversation you send to a good friend every time you come in contact with them. Max tries so hard to live up to silence, not to be distracted by that grin--- to just finish this chapter but the strangeness in his friends behavior cant even let him finish these words laid out in front of his blank face.
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Fallen House
Some people swore the house was haunted. I was never a subscriber to the supernatural forces, that people rumor, is constantly watching us. The speculation of this house has been around since I was a teenager. It scared people a decade ago but now it’s a mysterious thrill for this new generation. We respected the sanctuary of the house in its entirety and let the muses sleep with their dignity. Still the rumor is still floating around and these ears haven’t heard of anyone trying to tackle the challenge. Or the people who did never made it back out. Death, ghosts, souls in limbo killing the living’ now that’s jealousy.
A Peasants Parable
A Peasants Parable
There was once was a peasant. All he ever wanted was the fastest horse in the entire world. He wouldn't settle for anything less until he got his wish. One day after scraping up horse shit for the day, he took his weekly pay check and went to the local fortune teller and her some questions.
"How is my future?"
"Your immediate future will be victorious" said the blind fortune teller.
"Will I ever receive my wish for the fastest horse in the entire world?"
The fortune teller whispers "Yes."
There was once was a peasant. All he ever wanted was the fastest horse in the entire world. He wouldn't settle for anything less until he got his wish. One day after scraping up horse shit for the day, he took his weekly pay check and went to the local fortune teller and her some questions.
"How is my future?"
"Your immediate future will be victorious" said the blind fortune teller.
"Will I ever receive my wish for the fastest horse in the entire world?"
The fortune teller whispers "Yes."
The Smallest of Fractions
The Smallest of Fractions
Our galaxy spins in a spiral. One by one mass encumbers matter and all is swirling around a star. And one by one we all follow, our year is not like theirs. But we share the same time. Each planet has its own characteristics. All eight of them surrounded around a sun trying to keep up. Some trying harder than others some falling behind. Runts that don't make it and ones to big if split up they could be 8 planets the size of ours. Some reach their extremes and our too hot or too cold depending on their distance from the ominous sun. Most don't like the presence of humanity or humanity can't establish their curse on their soil mostly do to their behavioral atmospheres.
Our galaxy spins in a spiral. One by one mass encumbers matter and all is swirling around a star. And one by one we all follow, our year is not like theirs. But we share the same time. Each planet has its own characteristics. All eight of them surrounded around a sun trying to keep up. Some trying harder than others some falling behind. Runts that don't make it and ones to big if split up they could be 8 planets the size of ours. Some reach their extremes and our too hot or too cold depending on their distance from the ominous sun. Most don't like the presence of humanity or humanity can't establish their curse on their soil mostly do to their behavioral atmospheres.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Subsidized (Short Story not Finished)
Subsidized
I suddenly wake up, un-settled and just lie there. Both eyelids fluster to the blinking of the sun’s majestic rays that shine through my dusty, over used blinds. I lie there steadily comfortable and compiling under the ultra-violet radiation. My skin starts to tingle as the grainy hair on my stubborn arms begins to rise to signal the beginning of my repetitive morning. But yet again, just like every other day before work, I turn to my left, to face my deteriorating nightstand, which holds my digital alarm clock. I notice its beauty, completely moss green with 3 self-contained buttons that our satin black and then the white numbers reading 5:55. Exactly 5 minutes before my alarm will go off to start my day. So for the next couple of minutes or few hundred second, I bask in the glow until it is finally to start my routine. When the clock hits the dedicated time, I unravel the soft white sheets that are so delicately wrapped around my new lifeless body. Right when I toss my sheets to the opposite side of my humongous queen size bed the alarm clock grumbles and lets out a blaring, waling siren that always pierces my ears and makes my vision turn from the sleepy and hazy early morning monotonous to the alert and just ready to go grind of everyday life. Ready to start the day and definitely already to end it as well. I switch it off an am tempted to un-plug it from my pale yellow apartment wall but I know that will only be detrimental and useless. I’ll still wake up tomorrow at 5:55 no matter how hard I try. I am, just like we all are, a slave to time. It beats you down leaving you utterly tiresome needing this idea of rest to get on with the next day, the next year and blissfully on with the next life. As time continues to tick, I panic. I take my scattered, crusty sheets that i have not found time to watch and carefully re-make my bed. Perfectly rectangle is the shape I intend to make. The bed cover goes underneath, blankets and filler hide beneath the cushioned comforter. Pillows get flipped; The two of them. My brain sends signals to my body that say "On to the Bathroom," so i proceed. The laminate wood floor that exists in my bedroom holds the light in itself that secretly urns and that consistent glare shines deeply into my chilled skin. Its comforting but also inconvenient. If you decide to look down i am instantly blinded and i can't look up because it is far to early for such strenuous activities and just looking straight ahead dazes me. So being undecided, i begin to stumble lunging towards my bathroom door. I grab hold of the wooden frame and regain my balance. The white tiles that remind me to always brush my teeth multiply in every direction. The grout is over done and the border between every monotonous placed square is hard to acknowledge. Just realizing, even if it is terribly flawed, that someone built this with you in mind will help unease any greedy souls conscious. I pull down my gray patterned pajama bottoms to reveal my hairy, chicken legs that should of been taken out of the over 10 years ago. Black hair with gray tips curl, tightly woven like a knit sweater, around my thighs leading to my crinkled, wrinkled knees that are severely bruised and all the way down to my hairless shins where the only thing that shows is the powered purple hue through the few lays of skin that still remain. My toes look broken and my feet show a man in his 40's who doesn't care about feet. We put cloth over them specifically for a purpose. We walk on them, they deserve some protection. I fondle my penis, a limp useless slice of skin that hovers over my saggy, pale testicles. I produce a steady stream of piss into the toilet water that is to hard to tell the difference between puke, piss and shit. Needless to say my toiled hardly flushes down all of my increments. I raddle the metallic knob but it is sitting still, still waiting. Plumbing is a weakness of mind but i am fine with filth. It's my own. After I am done pissing, I leave my pants off, wrinkled in a corner like a used napkin like the rest of them. I continue the de-robing and continue with my shirt. My flabby, stretched out skin that lumps over my pelvic bone is surrounded by splotches of hair and blank sheets of skin sprouted up my body. I end up in the shower, turn on the plastic diamond knob until i reach the terminal location and the water boils off the bacteria and burns my skin to the touch. The way i like it, steaming up my studio and fogging up all the windows. Creating an opaque box for m,e to dwell in while the public speculates on me. Water slowly drips off my worn-body, washing away the grime of the days before. Soothing liquids slide from my nose all the way to my toes, slowly and tantalizing. As I finish up the procedure soap, sudds, shampoo, scrub, brush, scrape and condition and rinse....rinse....rinse. Turning off the water supply by rotating the knob to the opposite direction. The atmosphere slowly returns to its average as my body shrivels up and wrinkles like a crumpled piece of paper. I grab blindly for my blue-printed towel and dry off. Rubbing my brown hair, side to side in unison and then I dry off randomly and furiously. I step out of the shower. Continuing, now onto my body, bridging the gap and straightening my arms, tightening the towel to reach the small of my back where all the water hides. Then the genitals and downwards to my legs. Ever so gently to not scream out of pain from my aged shins.
I suddenly wake up, un-settled and just lie there. Both eyelids fluster to the blinking of the sun’s majestic rays that shine through my dusty, over used blinds. I lie there steadily comfortable and compiling under the ultra-violet radiation. My skin starts to tingle as the grainy hair on my stubborn arms begins to rise to signal the beginning of my repetitive morning. But yet again, just like every other day before work, I turn to my left, to face my deteriorating nightstand, which holds my digital alarm clock. I notice its beauty, completely moss green with 3 self-contained buttons that our satin black and then the white numbers reading 5:55. Exactly 5 minutes before my alarm will go off to start my day. So for the next couple of minutes or few hundred second, I bask in the glow until it is finally to start my routine. When the clock hits the dedicated time, I unravel the soft white sheets that are so delicately wrapped around my new lifeless body. Right when I toss my sheets to the opposite side of my humongous queen size bed the alarm clock grumbles and lets out a blaring, waling siren that always pierces my ears and makes my vision turn from the sleepy and hazy early morning monotonous to the alert and just ready to go grind of everyday life. Ready to start the day and definitely already to end it as well. I switch it off an am tempted to un-plug it from my pale yellow apartment wall but I know that will only be detrimental and useless. I’ll still wake up tomorrow at 5:55 no matter how hard I try. I am, just like we all are, a slave to time. It beats you down leaving you utterly tiresome needing this idea of rest to get on with the next day, the next year and blissfully on with the next life. As time continues to tick, I panic. I take my scattered, crusty sheets that i have not found time to watch and carefully re-make my bed. Perfectly rectangle is the shape I intend to make. The bed cover goes underneath, blankets and filler hide beneath the cushioned comforter. Pillows get flipped; The two of them. My brain sends signals to my body that say "On to the Bathroom," so i proceed. The laminate wood floor that exists in my bedroom holds the light in itself that secretly urns and that consistent glare shines deeply into my chilled skin. Its comforting but also inconvenient. If you decide to look down i am instantly blinded and i can't look up because it is far to early for such strenuous activities and just looking straight ahead dazes me. So being undecided, i begin to stumble lunging towards my bathroom door. I grab hold of the wooden frame and regain my balance. The white tiles that remind me to always brush my teeth multiply in every direction. The grout is over done and the border between every monotonous placed square is hard to acknowledge. Just realizing, even if it is terribly flawed, that someone built this with you in mind will help unease any greedy souls conscious. I pull down my gray patterned pajama bottoms to reveal my hairy, chicken legs that should of been taken out of the over 10 years ago. Black hair with gray tips curl, tightly woven like a knit sweater, around my thighs leading to my crinkled, wrinkled knees that are severely bruised and all the way down to my hairless shins where the only thing that shows is the powered purple hue through the few lays of skin that still remain. My toes look broken and my feet show a man in his 40's who doesn't care about feet. We put cloth over them specifically for a purpose. We walk on them, they deserve some protection. I fondle my penis, a limp useless slice of skin that hovers over my saggy, pale testicles. I produce a steady stream of piss into the toilet water that is to hard to tell the difference between puke, piss and shit. Needless to say my toiled hardly flushes down all of my increments. I raddle the metallic knob but it is sitting still, still waiting. Plumbing is a weakness of mind but i am fine with filth. It's my own. After I am done pissing, I leave my pants off, wrinkled in a corner like a used napkin like the rest of them. I continue the de-robing and continue with my shirt. My flabby, stretched out skin that lumps over my pelvic bone is surrounded by splotches of hair and blank sheets of skin sprouted up my body. I end up in the shower, turn on the plastic diamond knob until i reach the terminal location and the water boils off the bacteria and burns my skin to the touch. The way i like it, steaming up my studio and fogging up all the windows. Creating an opaque box for m,e to dwell in while the public speculates on me. Water slowly drips off my worn-body, washing away the grime of the days before. Soothing liquids slide from my nose all the way to my toes, slowly and tantalizing. As I finish up the procedure soap, sudds, shampoo, scrub, brush, scrape and condition and rinse....rinse....rinse. Turning off the water supply by rotating the knob to the opposite direction. The atmosphere slowly returns to its average as my body shrivels up and wrinkles like a crumpled piece of paper. I grab blindly for my blue-printed towel and dry off. Rubbing my brown hair, side to side in unison and then I dry off randomly and furiously. I step out of the shower. Continuing, now onto my body, bridging the gap and straightening my arms, tightening the towel to reach the small of my back where all the water hides. Then the genitals and downwards to my legs. Ever so gently to not scream out of pain from my aged shins.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Lost in Paradise
Dear Dakota,
I recently woke up in a lush, vicious forest full of oak and willow trees that surrounded my peripheral . The trees were enormous, towering above me like a giant, nearly suffocating me and it turned my sight into tunnel vision. Through the breaks in the branches, I see a relatively small pond with jumping Koi, splashing slightly against the surface. I feel imprisoned like a have done something terrible wrong and this was my sentence. I walked up to my favorite tree, one that reminds me of the art from "The Dream Hunters" and I quickly fall in love. Swiftly turn and begin to climb it. All my accomplishments in life, I always resume back to my childhood. We all do in a sense. After many failed attempts proven by the deep scratches in my arms and the blood from my hands given to me from the razor-like bark I tried to grasp.
"I give up!" I shouted.
I recently woke up in a lush, vicious forest full of oak and willow trees that surrounded my peripheral . The trees were enormous, towering above me like a giant, nearly suffocating me and it turned my sight into tunnel vision. Through the breaks in the branches, I see a relatively small pond with jumping Koi, splashing slightly against the surface. I feel imprisoned like a have done something terrible wrong and this was my sentence. I walked up to my favorite tree, one that reminds me of the art from "The Dream Hunters" and I quickly fall in love. Swiftly turn and begin to climb it. All my accomplishments in life, I always resume back to my childhood. We all do in a sense. After many failed attempts proven by the deep scratches in my arms and the blood from my hands given to me from the razor-like bark I tried to grasp.
"I give up!" I shouted.
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