The Emperor of all cats retrieves his spoon
July 5, 2009
Seven minutes in my first apartment
July 4, 2009
There is this song. And every time I hear it I see her stripping in my dank unfinished basement, trying to be sultry with bits of concrete and spider webs wafting down onto her. Her bare feet making little trails in the dust that stayed for days afterwards; I wanted to lift her into my arms but the protruding nails from the beams above us forbid it. She slipped out of her clothes, singing softly along with the song; I pulled her close to keep her from brushing against the crumbling plaster wall.
Bristles; Chapter 3: Part 1
July 3, 2009
Danny stood in front of the bathroom mirror poking at the bleeding hole his ear used to cover. It had been his least favorite ear, but nostalgia had him remembering otherwise. He opened his first aid kit: it contained one band aid, three Flintstone vitamins, and a drawing of him falling the down the stairs surrounded by the prohibitive circle with a diagonal line. He retrieved a cotton ball from the bottom of the drawer, soaked it in cool-mint Listerine, and applied it to the side of his head. The pain was intense, if refreshing. Danny’s severed ear lay on kitchen counter, packed, by the Hedgehog, into a ziplock bag full of ice. The Panda had donned a stewpot helmet and was keeping watch over the backdoor.
Birthday Musings
June 25, 2009
Thirty Three years ago I was born and almost died. I was two months and some weeks premature. I was a twin for three hours, and then I was not. At some point, when I was very young, someone showed me his tombstone: I’d not yet learned to read and remember thinking if I could just understand what was written on it I would know some part of him. But I could not, and it seemed too much to ask the grieving adults around me, so I never found out. At the time I assumed it was an explanation for why he had died, and I had not.
I learned to read soon after.
Sleep Stink
June 22, 2009
I slept a stink so bad last night I had to take refuge on my girlfriend’s side of the bed. A stink so bad I must have died, rotted, and then been forced back to life to answer for the olfactory crimes of my passing. There is no natural explanation for the persistence and pungency of the odor: I checked the sheet for shit stains three times, to no avail. Whatever substance I’m emitting is as colorless as it odorous: some invisible taint to my sweat or dreams.
Bristles; Chapter 2: Part 6
June 18, 2009
(See :Chapter 2 PART 1 and PART 2 and PART 3 and PART 4 and PART 5 for start of this chapter)
The Hedgehog bounced on the balls of his feet, weaving patterns of distraction along his quills. The Terrier advanced, implacable, his distended jaw pugged out like some horrid cockney boxer. Danny considered helping but he was unsure who he wanted to lose. Steak knives flashed and clattered too fast to track; wads of fur and quill and flesh spun out from the foul mouthed dervish whirling across the bathroom floor.
“I’ll tear you up like crotchless panties at a frat party, you Yorkie piece of shit”
“You’re getting gutter-fucked, Hedgehog….slow and sloppy”
Cautionary tales: So there was this girl
June 17, 2009
So there was this girl; or, rather, there was the idea of one. Everyone saw themselves in her, this feminine echo of their Id. I found little bits of her words first: wry, careful, bits that intrigued but didn’t reveal. I engaged. Charmed and calculated: put forth what she needed to hear, and heard what I needed to fit. In our defense we were younger then and broken enough to give a poor idea space to bleed.
Classic Beats Entropy: Guide to Being Right
June 17, 2009
As I stated before, I have a very limited skill set. I’m bad at math, have zero vocational training, can’t drive, and become irretrievably lost if I wander outside my three block comfort zone. One thing I can do though is argue a point, no matter its importance or apparent tenability, until it’s widely acclaimed that my position is indeed the superior one. Now this ability is generally used to internally justify my mythically poor judgement, but on occasion I engage in a little rhetorical beat down to make myself feel like a big man.
With that in mind I present you :
The Beats Entropy Guide to Being Right
(The following applies to arguing in person. Arguing online is pathetic, pointless, and removes the potential for any meaningful resolution)
The Basic Principles
The nature, purpose, and execution of an argument.
An argument is not a discussion
The intent is not to reach consensus, the intent is to impose your will and rationale over that of another human being. You are essentially contesting your relative worth through intellectual proxy. If your argument wins out then you have proven your beliefs, and self, superior to those of your enemy. Should you lose, then everything you stand for and value is cast in an unfavorable light, and subject to scorn by all who witnessed your defeat. Keep these stakes in mind when considering the necessary tactics.
Isaac and the Leopard: Complete
June 10, 2009
Isaac waited in the rushes, the dank smell of bog and rot and summer shortening his breath. He watched for bubbles and golden eyes above the scum. He was patient, attentive and calm; there was nothing of the frantic boy in this staid and quiet hunter.
The soft plip of one breaking the surface froze Isaac. He willed himself part of the reeds, part of the water. More surfaced; he marked each skirt of ripples, figured his reach, then struck smoothly, a series of muted splashes the only disruption. The first few lacked the fullness Isaac preferred; their slender, crooked bodies squirming out between his fingers. He let them leap free to the water, his quick hands beneficent. He crouched deeper, toes splayed in the silt bottom; waiting for the pond to forget him. Minutes passed, the boy’s sun heavy back pushed him closer to the surface, near inches from crayfish returning to feed. Minnows darted in the shadows of his feet. He found a guilty peace in this part of hunt, something fraternizing in the communion. Years later he’d mourn these burrs of empathy, and how they’d fueled his cruelty.
Bristles; Chapter 2: Part 5
June 9, 2009
(See :Chapter 2 PART 1 and PART 2 and PART 3 and PART 4 for start of this chapter Continued in Part 6)
Danny reacted to the yelp like a shot from a starter’s pistol: exploding into a full run he stiff-armed Beth into the couch and pulled down a bookcase behind him to ensure he’d reach the kitchen first. He turned the corner in time to see the Hedgehog pulling a bloody lump three times his size into the bathroom. Danny grabbed the roll of paper towels and frantically began mopping the long smear of crimson off the floor. There was a crash from the hallway
“What the fuck, Danny!” yelled Beth, disentangling herself from a newly purchased Ikea book shelf.
Danny threw the sodden towels into the trash, then smashed the kitchen light fixture with a frying pan.
“Sorry Beth…I thought I heard the phone…only it was actually a huge rat…that I just locked in the bathroom”.
Beth moved into the dim kitchen rubbing a raw spot on her elbow.
“Where’s Coco? Is he in here?”
Danny tried to hold the frying pan in a casual fashion. Flecks of glass dusted his hair.
Bristles; Chapter 2: Part 4
June 7, 2009
See :Chapter 2 PART 1 and PART 2 and PART 3 for start of this chapter. Continued in Part 5
“How have you been, Daniel?” asked Beth, passing Danny the milk crate so she could remove her heels.
Danny held the box dumbly. He hadn’t thought about Beth in weeks. Her sudden appearance dropped his stomach and sent his mind racing in sad, familiar, obsessive, loops. It was enough to make his forget his situation.
“I…I really, uh…I don’t know” Danny answered.
Beth placed her shoes on the mat, making a little noise of surprise at the neatly organized shoe tree beside it. A rubber boot hopped covertly out from behind the door and made its way to kitchen. The small brown dog followed.
Letter Day: 302; Literary requests
June 3, 2009
HEY AJ! Sorry to bother you but I need to write two poems for my college compositional class. Proper poets won’t reply to my emails, so I figured I’d ask you. Can you write me a poem about mans alienation from nature and tendency for self destruction?. If you could make it dark and moody, with a complex rhyme scheme, with a deep thematic counterpoint. I know it’s a lot ask…but what else are you doing these days?
TWO SHEET TWO DA WIND
T-Dot
I have to tell you, Sheets, you’re not much of salesmen. Still, I do have some free time on my hands, and my heart does course with molten poetry, so maybe I can help you out.
Chasing the dragon/My father lament Read the rest of this entry »
Bristles; Chapter 2: Part 3
June 1, 2009
(See :Chapter 2 PART 1 and PART 2 for start of this chapter, Continued in PART 4 and PART 5 )
Ripples of irritation waved through the Hedgehogs bristles; Danny’s end route with the Panda had put it at disadvantage for the first time in their relationship. He’d also been kicked in the head, repeatedly. The net effect left it off balance (figuratively and literally), watching the Panda investigate the apartment with Danny trailing dutifully behind.
“Uh…Panda, can I get you something to eat, or, something? There’s worms in the fridge” said Danny.
The Panda shot a disgusted look over its shoulder before ambling into the living room.
“He’s vegetarian, dipshit. Maybe if you got some fucking cable in here you’d know these things. And his name is Eustace, not Panda.”
Line Karma (a haunting true story)
May 26, 2009
I do not like the grocery store. The milling crowds and assorted humanity rile me. Yesterday I waited too long and was forced go during peak hours: a jostling, glaring, patience wearing ordeal. Still, it was largely uneventful until I attempted to pay.
In my initial line there was a 250lb old woman in a tuxedo shirt and pants, sans bra, with no visible feet. What was visible, however, through her sweat soaked formal wear, were her pendulous breasts: cavorting like deflated twin manatees wrestling for food. I tried to ignore her, and them, but they rustled and whispered against the fabric like a double endowed Kuato. I feared their secrets enough I broke my cardinal rule and switched grocery lines midstream. Karma frowned upon me.
Bristles; Chapter 2: Part 2
May 16, 2009
See :Chapter 2 PART 1 and for start of this chapter, Continued in PART 3 and PART 4 and PART 5 )
Aching, Danny could barely bend low enough to remove his mud-caked shoes. Thick ropes of pain bunched his lower back and fixed his hands into useless claws. Thin red welts laced his neck and ears. Danny had lived a life of long nights and this had been one of the longest. The Hedgehog chattered uselessly beside him.
“Don’t throw the Quill sweater away; we’re going to need it for your burrowing drills tomorrow”.
Danny tossed the sweater into the corner beside his shovel. He debated dumping the bucket full of worms into the garbage disposal, before swallowing his rebellion and placing it on the bottom shelf of the fridge. It wasn’t worth his bathroom being filled with bees again. The Hedgehog scampered up onto the counter and began washing itself in the sink. Danny shot it a long glare. The Hedgehog locked eyes with him.
“This ain’t a peepshow, Creepshow; why don’t you put your heavy breathing to good use and order us some Chinese food. And no Almond cookies, they taste like drywall”.
Danny continued to glare at the Hedgehog. The Hedgehog began exaggeratedly drying his balls with Danny’s favorite tea towel.
