It occurred to me today, that the root of my contempt for some of the large chain stores in my town comes from having to look at unattractive people.
Now before you get all rage on me, let me explain.
Whenever I visit stores like Kmart or Target, I am in and out as quickly as possible.
This is because the moment I am dunked under the water of these depression tanks (like one of those pitching-dunk-tank type games) I have only a certain amount of time I can hold my breath.
It's the people.
The people are ugly in that special kind of way.
Some imperfection
in their physical appearance that ultimately lead them to try less in
life (you know, from all the emotional scarring of people putting them
in "their place") and end up as a cashier or jewelry clerk for some
large chain of stores for which they could honestly care less about.
The ugly part is that they smell of giving up and bitterness for the world that shaped them.
I can't blame them though (just merely pointing out what I've gathered).
God they make me feel terrible inside.
I never thought that the physical appearance of another individual could cause such obtrusive internal feelings of anxiety and depression.
I don't want to feel depressed.
I mean, who actively seeks out such horrors?
I sure as hell don't.
I people watch at the mall but this is different.
When the void of life is ubiquitous among every "team member" that all avoid all eye contact because the job requires they be over friendly and courteous to clientele who are the type of people that knock crap off the shelf because it got in the way of reaching for their bag of puffed cheese balls and walk away feeling okay with themselves, it differs from people watching.
I realize now that by walking through those automatic doors, I become an active participant.
In that torturous death ball, I have to interact with the slumps who are internally raging over cleaning up vomit from one of the changing rooms.
I don't blame them!
But this doesn't make my experience any better because I can't offer them any words to make them laugh.
Right?
I'd just be that person who makes a "seemingly funny comment" that the team member laughs at out of sheer impulse and later begins to resent me for making them feel something in an environment that sucks.
It just freaking sucks.
I waited tables for awhile so I know what it's like to fake laugh at someone's joke when you really don't want to.
HA HA, yeah you are right. I am less attractive than you when you've had four glasses of wine.
That's all I really want to do though.
Tell them how much of a joke it is to be working in an environment where even the simple procedure of paying with my debit card is complicated.
DEAR JESUS!
I had to swipe my card at exactly the time the cashier needed.
Not before she was done swiping all the items across the scanner.
Not after she was done but before she had to ask me if I was donating to blah blah blah foundation.
Certainly not before she clicked the button on her screen indicating I was paying by debit card.
I had to re swipe my card too many times is what I am getting at.
Grrrr, I was annoyed!
How petty of a thing to be annoyed over.
BUT IT ANNOYED ME OKAY?
I could be like my girlfriend though.
The type of person that misses out on all the negativity I just seem to hone in on.
She loves it when I point out crap she was oblivious to.
In the end she always thanks me with that backwards way of telling someone they failed at keeping their thoughts to themselves.
I feel as though I got off topic but still maintained some of the core reasons for posting this in the first place.
I also realize that I may have made you more rage but whatever.
Don't be so rage on me.
I also feel that I did not cap off each thought in a nice little bundle and recognize that some need major overhauls but I am not willing to go back through and correct it.
As always, if my words brought you even the smallest tinge of excitimatation (ex-cite-eh-ma-tation), share it with friends and look through some of my other postings.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
"Soft Mix"
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Found Poetry #3
I wish we had been born like bottle caps;
not actual bottle caps of course
but rusted, gutted, and ready to live:
the slit-chisel grasping the math of every folded body
subtracting what we've so long been dreaming.
I've seen versions of the holy;
my back supported only by the grim-stone tributaries
like the back wings of a stone angel
(yes I just compared me to the ephemeral).
There are heavy lead anchors that rest unmoved in the glow of her red tide.
How beautifully she swims in the boom of dark regions
like broken poetry in the name of art.
****************************************************************************
When I was the jukebox
I pointed to the flame of her indomitable body
and enacted into law an empire of hand-holding
to keep the leaves from suicide
and the last of the seasonal light
from becoming full of nights songs.
Sometimes when I see her at the bar I become technical
like prairie flowers stripping away their seed fluff
I can only think about soaking into her power lines
like a good book sticks to my finger tips.
"Do not suffocate dear," she says to me, "for I believe
that you are quite wicked."
If you enjoyed these poems, check out the others on my blog. I've kept them warm for you.
not actual bottle caps of course
but rusted, gutted, and ready to live:
the slit-chisel grasping the math of every folded body
subtracting what we've so long been dreaming.
I've seen versions of the holy;
my back supported only by the grim-stone tributaries
like the back wings of a stone angel
(yes I just compared me to the ephemeral).
There are heavy lead anchors that rest unmoved in the glow of her red tide.
How beautifully she swims in the boom of dark regions
like broken poetry in the name of art.
****************************************************************************
When I was the jukebox
I pointed to the flame of her indomitable body
and enacted into law an empire of hand-holding
to keep the leaves from suicide
and the last of the seasonal light
from becoming full of nights songs.
Sometimes when I see her at the bar I become technical
like prairie flowers stripping away their seed fluff
I can only think about soaking into her power lines
like a good book sticks to my finger tips.
"Do not suffocate dear," she says to me, "for I believe
that you are quite wicked."
If you enjoyed these poems, check out the others on my blog. I've kept them warm for you.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Tsunami
There
is a tall cliff, several hundred feet high, dotted with the nesting
sites of thousands of sea birds, that overlooks the northern edge of
an Oregon coastline town. The locals
nicknamed this overview “The Mullet” as the exposed grass bakes
in the hot sun all day and is short. Beyond the grass stands tall
pines that sway in the late-afternoon breeze.
On the flat of the plateau, a woman and her
adopted daughter enjoyed the afternoon. “Serendipity,”
the mother called to her child. She received no response. The mother
looked back down to reread a sentence from an article in the Signal
about the town's new gas station.
She
had to reread the sentence several more times as her mind persisted in evaluating why the child did not respond. Maybe it was my tone. Certainly she respects me—she must. But it's rude to not respond when
someone calls your name. She was not going let it
bother her that she got no response. Today can still be fun she thought to herself. Children need to play and be children.
With
a shallow sigh, the mother stopped reading and looked down at the
shine of her new wedding ring as she trailed off in thought. Happy
that she had someone who listened to her when she talked, she got up
from the outspread blanket and walked to the viewpoint near the edge
of the cliff. She was hoping to catch the small dot of him smoking
outside the shop.
She
did not get the glimpse of him she was hoping for. Instead, she was
startled to see the ocean had sucked way out. It was not like this when she left the house this morning she thought. Surely she would have noticed.
The shallow surf where
the two of them first made love was a shimmering flat expanse of dark
sand. The tide was the lowest she had ever witnessed. The barnacle
covered supports of the dock were exposed and crab pots lie on the
sand; each connected to a length of line with a numbered float trailing off towards
the horizon. Boats that were moored in the harbor lie on their side;
their owners in awe and confusion, were out circling the boat that
rested on the ocean floor. The water's edge was further out than she
could see; almost flat with the horizon. She tried to block out the
sun with one hand and squint really hard but still she could not see
where it had gone. From high on the bluff she returned her focus back
onto the town. She could see out-of-towners gathered in packs and the
small dots of children running out to touch the sea life stranded by
the unusual retreat of the tide.
The mother turned her back to the ocean and began to search for her own child. After a moment of scanning without luck, she decided to head back to the blanket and pack up. As she took a step though, she tripped on a rock jutting from the dirt and fell to her hands. Anger coursed through her small body sparked by the sudden jolt of physical pain. No longer able to tactfully hold it back, she became furious. The mother, in an irrational fit, blamed everything on the insolent child. If only we had done what I wanted today, I would not be on my hands like I am now she thought. She must be bent over in laughter seeing me in the dirt like this.
She gathered herself and once again headed towards the blanket, this time more mindful of her steps. After folding the blanket into a tidy bundle, she spotted the child digging feverishly in the dirt below a pine. “Honey I would like to get back into town,” she called. She did not want to provoke the theatrical side of Serendipity, so she purposefully omitted the sense of urgency from her tone. To her surprise, the child turned and acknowledged her stepmother, but quickly returned to digging. This made her very upset and so she
cursed under her breath.
Onlookers
down on the beach began to celebrate and cheer; pointing out to the return of the
ocean. "Everything is fine see," a corpulent man in a small swimsuit said.
"Maybe the moon just wanted to play a trick on us," he offered as a
joke. As he was explaining why the joke was funny, people began to
hear the sound of distant thunder and again pointed out towards the
horizon. This time they did not cheer. The wall of water could be
seen crashing over large boulders that had fallen into the sea from
the cliff with terrific force.
When
the first wave hit, the surge of ocean was incredible. Those that had ventured out onto the
exposed beach, now tumbled violently beneath the terrible weight of
thrashing water as the wave moved with ease through the shopfronts. Vehicles
parked next to the boardwalk all down the beach became play things
for the water to toss about. The salt water poured into an antique store like a mob of looters. An
exquisite champagne colored wedding dress with its long train bundled
and snagged on a taxidermied head of a moose, along with other
treasures, were carried out with the ebb of water through the smashed
shopfront window.
The
husband of the woman on the bluff was at work. He owned a small
marine repair shop and was behind on a project. When the first wave
smashed into the side of his workshop, he saw the shop walls shift
from his periphery and clicked the grind wheel off. He was behind he
thought, but not enough for the boat's owner to come pounding. As he grasped the
handle to the door, he noticed a small trickle of cold water flowing
from the lock. The door was heavy to open. He figured that someone
was playing a prank on him so he pushed as hard as he could. The door
swung open with the greatest of ease and the ocean roared into the
shop, knocking the man down and pushing him across the floor. He was
unprepared for the sudden rush of surf. It flowed with such weight
that it toppled over the supports holding up the 32' sailboat he had
been working on. As the supports buckled, the keel came down across
his right thigh, snapping his femur and leaving him pinned under the
boat as the shop filled with cold ocean water.
Water swirled in the streets—slurping and sucking like an uncivilized mongrel lapping up soup. The boats that lie
on their side in the harbor were now bits and pieces strewn across
rooftops of small buildings. Wave
after wave pounded the small seaside town to bits. The ocean
devouring everything.
Every
year the town would practice the tsunami drill. The locals went
through the motions like seasoned airplane passengers; most ignoring
the drill, assuming someone would come save them when the supposed
“tsunami” struck.
The
line of cars on the single lane road out of town was long. Some
people resorted to running. A young bachelor, in a frightful bit of
panic, filled his backpack with pictures of his favorite dead dog,
some toilet paper, and a fishing pole. Whatever could be rescued. A
man and his wife, both carrying blankets wrapped tight with cotton
cord, each firmly grasped the small hand of a child as they headed
out of town. The mother telling her two children a small lie about
where the family was going in such a hurry.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
What I learned today
The following information I found in a book titled Panati's Extraordinary Endings Of Practically Everything And Everybody.
The book has tons of fun things to read and I highly recommend picking up a copy.
This is a condensed version from what I read in the book.
I promise that it will be worth reading.
Okay so John Keats had this friend.
His name was Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Now Percy was married to Mary Shelley (lady who wrote Frankenstein).
You don't need really need to know that loop, but what the heck.
So Percy was told by his doctor to move to Italy.
Italy at the time was seen as having a rejuvenating climate.
Percy travels there with his wife and two children on their yacht.
Within a year, their infant dies from a high fever.
The following year, their two-year-old falls ill and succumbs to his illness.
Life was fragile. I'm sure you can deduce that from the proceeding sentences though.
Okay, so Percy goes into a writing frenzy after his children die.
He pumps out a number of famous poems over the next 3-4 years.
In 1821 he hears news that his friend John Keats has passed and decides to write his "perfect poem" to commemorate Keats.
This poem, much to Percy's disappointment, gets negative reviews and so he decides to end his writing career.
Percy becomes depressed and suicidal.
In July 1821 Percy decides to lift his spirits and sets sail with friend Edward Williams.
He sails to Piso and enjoys himself.
On the return trip, he is sailing from the harbor as a sudden storm sets in.
A man in a fishing vessel, by the name of Trelawny, waves his arms frantically to get them to turn the yacht around and head back to the harbor.
Edward and Percy ignore the man (who Percy befriended during his stay in Piso).
The storm struck and passed within 30 minutes but during that time, the yacht capsizes and both men drowned.
Mary Shelly becomes heart broken and clings to the hopes that their boat went off coast and will show up on a distant island.
News gets back that he was in fact dead and had drowned at sea.
Trelawny happens to be around when the identifying of the body takes place and he quickly points out that is was indeed Percy.
In Percy's breast pocket was the last collection of poems written by John Keats before he passed away.
This is where it gets interesting.
Now there was a law that when a body washed on shore, it had to be burned.
This was to prevent the spread of disease.
Now Trelawny, some friends of Percy, and some curious locals are the only people at the burning.
Trelawny, who worshiped the poet, reaches into the fire and pulls Percy's heart from his body.
He sends it to Mary Shelly in a jar and the heart sits on her desk for years.
Percy's ashes get sent back to his wife and she puts them in a grave.
Trelawny travels to the grave site and is not satisfied with the grave accommodations.
He uses all the money he has and purchases two new headstones for two graves.
One for the empty plot next to Percy.
You'd think that he would do the noble thing and have the plot for Shelly.
In his infatuation for Percy, he writes a letter to Mary Shelly and informs her that the new plot next to Percy is for himself.
To this day, Trelawny -the man whom Percy knew less than six months- is buried in the grave next to the famous poet Percy Shelly.
Not his wife.
If you enjoyed this bit of writing, make sure to check out the rest of my blog. WARNING: I'm no famous poet and I don't plan on drowning at sea. END WARNING.
The book has tons of fun things to read and I highly recommend picking up a copy.
This is a condensed version from what I read in the book.
I promise that it will be worth reading.
Okay so John Keats had this friend.
His name was Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Now Percy was married to Mary Shelley (lady who wrote Frankenstein).
You don't need really need to know that loop, but what the heck.
So Percy was told by his doctor to move to Italy.
Italy at the time was seen as having a rejuvenating climate.
Percy travels there with his wife and two children on their yacht.
Within a year, their infant dies from a high fever.
The following year, their two-year-old falls ill and succumbs to his illness.
Life was fragile. I'm sure you can deduce that from the proceeding sentences though.
Okay, so Percy goes into a writing frenzy after his children die.
He pumps out a number of famous poems over the next 3-4 years.
In 1821 he hears news that his friend John Keats has passed and decides to write his "perfect poem" to commemorate Keats.
This poem, much to Percy's disappointment, gets negative reviews and so he decides to end his writing career.
Percy becomes depressed and suicidal.
In July 1821 Percy decides to lift his spirits and sets sail with friend Edward Williams.
He sails to Piso and enjoys himself.
On the return trip, he is sailing from the harbor as a sudden storm sets in.
A man in a fishing vessel, by the name of Trelawny, waves his arms frantically to get them to turn the yacht around and head back to the harbor.
Edward and Percy ignore the man (who Percy befriended during his stay in Piso).
The storm struck and passed within 30 minutes but during that time, the yacht capsizes and both men drowned.
Mary Shelly becomes heart broken and clings to the hopes that their boat went off coast and will show up on a distant island.
News gets back that he was in fact dead and had drowned at sea.
Trelawny happens to be around when the identifying of the body takes place and he quickly points out that is was indeed Percy.
In Percy's breast pocket was the last collection of poems written by John Keats before he passed away.
This is where it gets interesting.
Now there was a law that when a body washed on shore, it had to be burned.
This was to prevent the spread of disease.
Now Trelawny, some friends of Percy, and some curious locals are the only people at the burning.
Trelawny, who worshiped the poet, reaches into the fire and pulls Percy's heart from his body.
He sends it to Mary Shelly in a jar and the heart sits on her desk for years.
Percy's ashes get sent back to his wife and she puts them in a grave.
Trelawny travels to the grave site and is not satisfied with the grave accommodations.
He uses all the money he has and purchases two new headstones for two graves.
One for the empty plot next to Percy.
You'd think that he would do the noble thing and have the plot for Shelly.
In his infatuation for Percy, he writes a letter to Mary Shelly and informs her that the new plot next to Percy is for himself.
To this day, Trelawny -the man whom Percy knew less than six months- is buried in the grave next to the famous poet Percy Shelly.
Not his wife.
If you enjoyed this bit of writing, make sure to check out the rest of my blog. WARNING: I'm no famous poet and I don't plan on drowning at sea. END WARNING.
I had to change
In the hopes of landing a job, I've had to change some elements of my
blog. Beginning with using a pen name instead of my real name. I want
to land a professional writing gig and posting about pulling grass out
of my dog's asshole isn't exactly professional.
I'm still me and the content will not change. I'm just that mystery man making grunting noises from the stall over.
I'm still me and the content will not change. I'm just that mystery man making grunting noises from the stall over.
Dream Sequence #8
In my dream,
I don't remember how I arrived in the ocean at night but I was out in the Pacific somewhere in the dead of night.
There was an enormous cruise liner floating in the water about 500 feet from my side.
I remember wearing a full neoprene wetsuit and had one of those handheld underwater cameras you see on nature documentaries.
There was a small light fixed to it but the ocean was so dark that the light could not penetrate into the depths.
The ocean was slightly choppy and the perspective of what was happening in my dream was me observing me bobbing in the chop.
I was the omniscient author observing the protagonist up close, yet feeling the same emotions as said protagonist.
I remember writing the series of events but also fulfilling the role as "me" going through them, and changing the outcome immeasurably.
Sorry if that was confusing.
I don't remember why I was out swimming out in the ocean at night but I remember feeling extremely nervous about what could be lurking.
Over and over, I had to tell myself that nothing was going to happen.
This soothed me momentarily and then I would think of a leviathan type creature with long tendrils coming up from the depths and sucking me under.
Again I would tell myself that it was irrational of me to think such ludicrous things.
At one point I was comfortable enough to dive under the water but quickly surfaced with extra panic.
It was after this moment that the omniscient me just became me.
No more dual perspective. It was just me now.
The water was just too dark.
I wasn't afraid of sharks, I remember that specifically.
It was the damn thought of something I could not explain that left me in fear.
Off in the distance, in the sky above the cruise liner, I saw a large pink explosion.
It made no noise, but the sight of it after having just tried to swim underwater and surfacing from panic was too much.
As I was making my way back to the boat I saw the explosion again.
It was not a natural sight to see and I thought it was extraterrestrial activity.
This thought was due to the fact that the explosion was A) Pink and B) In the configuration of a large elephant.
Still, as funny as it is now to think about, it woke me up and I was not able to fall back asleep.
So I walked around my house for a few minutes.
Sometimes when I dream, I wake up and feel what was happening in my dream as reality.
If the dream was spooky enough (never content wise, but always my emotional state of being in the dream) I will wake and not want to fall back into the same dream.
So I find small things to do or fixate on to pass the time so that the dream that woke me will be replaced with one more friendly to sleep.
The end.
If you want to read more dreams, visit the archives of my blog. I cannot promise more will have pink exploding elephants in them, but I can promise that the majority will make you think, "waaaaahhhh?"
I don't remember how I arrived in the ocean at night but I was out in the Pacific somewhere in the dead of night.
There was an enormous cruise liner floating in the water about 500 feet from my side.
I remember wearing a full neoprene wetsuit and had one of those handheld underwater cameras you see on nature documentaries.
There was a small light fixed to it but the ocean was so dark that the light could not penetrate into the depths.
The ocean was slightly choppy and the perspective of what was happening in my dream was me observing me bobbing in the chop.
I was the omniscient author observing the protagonist up close, yet feeling the same emotions as said protagonist.
I remember writing the series of events but also fulfilling the role as "me" going through them, and changing the outcome immeasurably.
Sorry if that was confusing.
I don't remember why I was out swimming out in the ocean at night but I remember feeling extremely nervous about what could be lurking.
Over and over, I had to tell myself that nothing was going to happen.
This soothed me momentarily and then I would think of a leviathan type creature with long tendrils coming up from the depths and sucking me under.
Again I would tell myself that it was irrational of me to think such ludicrous things.
At one point I was comfortable enough to dive under the water but quickly surfaced with extra panic.
It was after this moment that the omniscient me just became me.
No more dual perspective. It was just me now.
The water was just too dark.
I wasn't afraid of sharks, I remember that specifically.
It was the damn thought of something I could not explain that left me in fear.
Off in the distance, in the sky above the cruise liner, I saw a large pink explosion.
It made no noise, but the sight of it after having just tried to swim underwater and surfacing from panic was too much.
As I was making my way back to the boat I saw the explosion again.
It was not a natural sight to see and I thought it was extraterrestrial activity.
This thought was due to the fact that the explosion was A) Pink and B) In the configuration of a large elephant.
Still, as funny as it is now to think about, it woke me up and I was not able to fall back asleep.
So I walked around my house for a few minutes.
Sometimes when I dream, I wake up and feel what was happening in my dream as reality.
If the dream was spooky enough (never content wise, but always my emotional state of being in the dream) I will wake and not want to fall back into the same dream.
So I find small things to do or fixate on to pass the time so that the dream that woke me will be replaced with one more friendly to sleep.
The end.
If you want to read more dreams, visit the archives of my blog. I cannot promise more will have pink exploding elephants in them, but I can promise that the majority will make you think, "waaaaahhhh?"
Friday, October 18, 2013
Flash Fiction #1
In the evening of the fifth consecutive day without sleep, I had wandered to the local pond. I do not recall how I made the decision to walk to the pond nor do I remember the walk itself. The delusions by this point of exhaustion were extremely difficult to separate from reality. A man suddenly appeared -I cannot say from where he came- and began to wade out into the pond. He had on overalls and the water quickly wicked up his pant legs, making the cotton a darker blue as it rose. I remember seeing this and thinking that he was being erased with every step he took; the pond just an inkwell swallowing up his legs. He stopped a few paces out and I swear to you that all the fish in the pond came to him. Dark spots gathered around the man like concert goers in an amphitheater waiting for the show to begin. He had bread in each pocket and tore small pieces off and tossed them to the fish. Him feeding the fish like this reminded me of a time I saw an elderly gentleman feeding some pigeons in the park. I watched as one flew up to land on this man's head and immediately thank him for the bread crumbs by defecating that disgusting white mess. I let out a laugh at the memory of watching it run down his forehead and dribble off his nose. The man in the pond suddenly turns to me -I don't think he knew I was there- and as he turns his face towards me, I can see that it is featureless. The skin was stretched tight over the sockets of his eyes and where his nose should be, was just a small bump pressing firmly from under the tight skin. His mouth, completely non existent, was terrifying to me but I could not stop myself from laughing that uncomfortable laugh.
If this was something you enjoyed reading, try some of the other morsels I've baked. I promise they are gluten free and don't taste all that terrible.
If this was something you enjoyed reading, try some of the other morsels I've baked. I promise they are gluten free and don't taste all that terrible.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Dream Sequence #7
In my dream,
I was wondering around a derelict old raceway.
I was with a childhood friend of mine and some other random people I cannot recall now.
We were walking around on the old concrete of the parking lot.
I remember seeing shoots of grass growing tall out of the cracks in the retired parking lot.
Next thing I know this childhood friend of mine had this group of friends show up.
These guys were in the business of importing vehicles from other countries.
The dream teleported me to the warehouse in "Rain Man" (the one where Tom Cruise is trying to peddle Lamborghini's).
My friend, he doesn't hesitate to help guide a tall crane carrying a boxed and sealed car.
He's guiding it down with hand motions and cutting at the protective plastic wrap.
I remember feeling confused at how quickly he went from my friend to just a man working unloading these cars.
Next thing I know, we are again walking around.
This time we make our way to the track itself.
The fencing is still up that circled the small track and I can hear motor noises.
I remember walking up to the track and seeing that it was a pool and there were people racing those hydroplane boats.
I was excited about this because as we walked up to a concession stand I noticed that you could pay for a ride on one of these fast and loud boats.
The prices were amazingly expensive (Hundreds of thousands of dollars).
We collectively sighed at this.
I turn around to whistle blowing and see that the hydroplane boats are no longer boats but are whale sized dolphins.
The whistle that blew announced that a sting ray was being released onto the track for the dolphins to chase around for a single lap.
I remember the stingray winning and a gentleman appearing to the side of us as this ray squeezed its way through a stingray sized escape hole in the fence.
The dolphins came crashing into the fence and the guy turns as says to me
"This is the fastest stingray in the land. No dolphin has ever caught it."
It's from this line that I gather these stingrays are food for the dolphins if they can catch it.
The man hands me the stingray and I remember it feeling hot and heaving from the exhausting lap around the track.
I feed it a fish to the mouth that's on the underside of this champion.
Next thing I see is this guy whirling the stingray on the tip of his finger like a pizza maker does when stretching his dough.
The end
This is a hydroplane boat if you did not already know.
If you'd like to read more dreams of mine make sure to follow my blog. I post them frequently.
I was wondering around a derelict old raceway.
I was with a childhood friend of mine and some other random people I cannot recall now.
We were walking around on the old concrete of the parking lot.
I remember seeing shoots of grass growing tall out of the cracks in the retired parking lot.
Next thing I know this childhood friend of mine had this group of friends show up.
These guys were in the business of importing vehicles from other countries.
The dream teleported me to the warehouse in "Rain Man" (the one where Tom Cruise is trying to peddle Lamborghini's).
My friend, he doesn't hesitate to help guide a tall crane carrying a boxed and sealed car.
He's guiding it down with hand motions and cutting at the protective plastic wrap.
I remember feeling confused at how quickly he went from my friend to just a man working unloading these cars.
Next thing I know, we are again walking around.
This time we make our way to the track itself.
The fencing is still up that circled the small track and I can hear motor noises.
I remember walking up to the track and seeing that it was a pool and there were people racing those hydroplane boats.
I was excited about this because as we walked up to a concession stand I noticed that you could pay for a ride on one of these fast and loud boats.
The prices were amazingly expensive (Hundreds of thousands of dollars).
We collectively sighed at this.
I turn around to whistle blowing and see that the hydroplane boats are no longer boats but are whale sized dolphins.
The whistle that blew announced that a sting ray was being released onto the track for the dolphins to chase around for a single lap.
I remember the stingray winning and a gentleman appearing to the side of us as this ray squeezed its way through a stingray sized escape hole in the fence.
The dolphins came crashing into the fence and the guy turns as says to me
"This is the fastest stingray in the land. No dolphin has ever caught it."
It's from this line that I gather these stingrays are food for the dolphins if they can catch it.
The man hands me the stingray and I remember it feeling hot and heaving from the exhausting lap around the track.
I feed it a fish to the mouth that's on the underside of this champion.
Next thing I see is this guy whirling the stingray on the tip of his finger like a pizza maker does when stretching his dough.
The end
If you'd like to read more dreams of mine make sure to follow my blog. I post them frequently.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Because I saw someone else do it
A few days ago I read an article about a man who only eats raw meat. I found it fascinating but only because of how it made my stomach convulse thinking about trying it for myself. I'll be honest and say that I'm the type of person who can't eat fat on steaks. Does this make me less of a man? I'm not sure. Guess it depends how you quantify being a "man". Anyhow, I cut all the fat out because my stomach has this socially awkward record of making me throw up in my mouth when attempting to swallow fat. Don't judge me! I try. It's an automatic thing. It just happens okay?
My brother and I went to the store the day of me reading this article and as he was buying groceries I told him I was thinking about trying raw lamb. We went over to the meat section and I couldn't do it. A) Lamb is expensive. B) I thought about how many worms must be living in that dude.
So tonight my brother surprises me with a lamb heart he purchased at the local COOP.
I must say that is was not all that bad. It did smell like iron and pretty much taste exactly like blood (go figure, right?).
For those who doubt my actual eating of the heart, here go.
I tried to tear some off with just my teeth but it wasn't working all that well. So I used a knife and sliced ribbons off. Not all that much is gone because my gag reflex really fought me.
It occurred to me while I was typing out this entry that me eating lamb heart and posting about it is RIDICULOUS. People eat this all the freaking time. It's sold in the grocery store after all. Tribes of people all over the world look at this as a delicacy. But not sheltered me. Not brainwashed into only eating cooked foods me.
I guess eating it raw is something unusual but I want everyone who reads this to know that I do not think of myself as being anything noteworthy because I ate raw lamb heart. It's just not something I've ever done. Nor do I think most people would even entertain the idea of doing it.
My brother and I went to the store the day of me reading this article and as he was buying groceries I told him I was thinking about trying raw lamb. We went over to the meat section and I couldn't do it. A) Lamb is expensive. B) I thought about how many worms must be living in that dude.
So tonight my brother surprises me with a lamb heart he purchased at the local COOP.
I must say that is was not all that bad. It did smell like iron and pretty much taste exactly like blood (go figure, right?).
For those who doubt my actual eating of the heart, here go.
It occurred to me while I was typing out this entry that me eating lamb heart and posting about it is RIDICULOUS. People eat this all the freaking time. It's sold in the grocery store after all. Tribes of people all over the world look at this as a delicacy. But not sheltered me. Not brainwashed into only eating cooked foods me.
I guess eating it raw is something unusual but I want everyone who reads this to know that I do not think of myself as being anything noteworthy because I ate raw lamb heart. It's just not something I've ever done. Nor do I think most people would even entertain the idea of doing it.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Dream Sequence #6
In my dream,
I was riding my bike down a street in a city that I do not recognize.
I remember feeling free and happy that I was on the bike which makes me think that I was young in the dream.
The bike is gone and now I am in an old convertible Buick and my uncle that is dead in real life is there in my dream and he stops me.
I remember him being quite rude which is not a quality he had in real life.
He demanded that I take my sister who was sick and throwing up, to the hospital.
I remember thinking that this was the stupidest thing to take a girl who was only throwing up to the hospital when she could just eat a Tums or something.
Next thing I know, my grandmother is there, who is also not alive anymore.
My uncle is telling me that nanny is sick too and that she also needs to go to the hospital with my sister.
My brother appears in the car so now it's a full car and the top is down.
I begin to drive and drive real fast so that the wind cools the two sick people off and maybe they won't be as sick.
The road turns into a crazy highway twisting and curving.
It's built very high off the ground and there are many different roads all twisting below it going different directions and all have speeding cars on them.
For some reason I am in the back seat now and the roof is up and my grandmother is driving.
I ask from the back seat to have the AC turned up in the car so that the windows could unfog and keep the two from getting sick.
Nanny, she is driving crazy and weaving all over and I remember thinking that if she has a temperature, she might not be fit enough to drive.
So I tell her to pull over.
She starts to do so but can't keep control of the car and heads straight for a parked car.
I leap from the backseat and slam on the brakes and grab the wheel from her.
She is pissed and over correcting the steering wheel.
I remember feeling the sensation of applying a great deal of pressure to the brakes of the car but it not slowing down much.
We rocket up this hill and my grandmother is telling me to watch for the slabs of concrete jutting from the edge.
We dodge them all and explode through this open gate onto a field of grass.
There are cars slowly proceeding in a single file line.
I quickly realize that we just drove onto a tiger drive thru type park.
They are everywhere and docile and not at all like real tigers.
Some are plump and jumping very abnormally which makes me think they are cartoons and not real tigers.
The worn out path in the grass we are on gives way to a bog and the car disappears.
The tigers are gone and now the path is really flooded and I am digging my legs into the soft mud beneath the surface of the water that looked something like you'd see on a nature show in the Amazon.
The kind where they go swimming in the flooded forest and all the tree roots are drowned with water and places that used to be dry land are now under 15 feet of water.
There are yellow flowers floating on the small channel of water that bends around the corner.
I swim and the water turns into pool water and everyone that was in the car is now back with me.
It was a new park that was a pool.
There were other groups floating on cars and looking at the animals swimming.
The pool water was very cloudy and I remember thinking that we must have been in the 1940s.
We are in a pink Lamborghini Countach and I know this because a guy in the car next to us is freaking out that we are in a Countach in the water.
My grandmother and sister are no longer sick as the cool water has cured them.
I remember sneaking out of the car and swimming in the pool and seeing a miniture beaver swimming under the water.
I thought to myself how a park like this couldn't exist in the future because someone would have been bit by the beaver and sued to the park and it would shut down.
The end
This is a Lamborghini Countach if you might not have known what it looked like.
I was riding my bike down a street in a city that I do not recognize.
I remember feeling free and happy that I was on the bike which makes me think that I was young in the dream.
The bike is gone and now I am in an old convertible Buick and my uncle that is dead in real life is there in my dream and he stops me.
I remember him being quite rude which is not a quality he had in real life.
He demanded that I take my sister who was sick and throwing up, to the hospital.
I remember thinking that this was the stupidest thing to take a girl who was only throwing up to the hospital when she could just eat a Tums or something.
Next thing I know, my grandmother is there, who is also not alive anymore.
My uncle is telling me that nanny is sick too and that she also needs to go to the hospital with my sister.
My brother appears in the car so now it's a full car and the top is down.
I begin to drive and drive real fast so that the wind cools the two sick people off and maybe they won't be as sick.
The road turns into a crazy highway twisting and curving.
It's built very high off the ground and there are many different roads all twisting below it going different directions and all have speeding cars on them.
For some reason I am in the back seat now and the roof is up and my grandmother is driving.
I ask from the back seat to have the AC turned up in the car so that the windows could unfog and keep the two from getting sick.
Nanny, she is driving crazy and weaving all over and I remember thinking that if she has a temperature, she might not be fit enough to drive.
So I tell her to pull over.
She starts to do so but can't keep control of the car and heads straight for a parked car.
I leap from the backseat and slam on the brakes and grab the wheel from her.
She is pissed and over correcting the steering wheel.
I remember feeling the sensation of applying a great deal of pressure to the brakes of the car but it not slowing down much.
We rocket up this hill and my grandmother is telling me to watch for the slabs of concrete jutting from the edge.
We dodge them all and explode through this open gate onto a field of grass.
There are cars slowly proceeding in a single file line.
I quickly realize that we just drove onto a tiger drive thru type park.
They are everywhere and docile and not at all like real tigers.
Some are plump and jumping very abnormally which makes me think they are cartoons and not real tigers.
The worn out path in the grass we are on gives way to a bog and the car disappears.
The tigers are gone and now the path is really flooded and I am digging my legs into the soft mud beneath the surface of the water that looked something like you'd see on a nature show in the Amazon.
The kind where they go swimming in the flooded forest and all the tree roots are drowned with water and places that used to be dry land are now under 15 feet of water.
There are yellow flowers floating on the small channel of water that bends around the corner.
I swim and the water turns into pool water and everyone that was in the car is now back with me.
It was a new park that was a pool.
There were other groups floating on cars and looking at the animals swimming.
The pool water was very cloudy and I remember thinking that we must have been in the 1940s.
We are in a pink Lamborghini Countach and I know this because a guy in the car next to us is freaking out that we are in a Countach in the water.
My grandmother and sister are no longer sick as the cool water has cured them.
I remember sneaking out of the car and swimming in the pool and seeing a miniture beaver swimming under the water.
I thought to myself how a park like this couldn't exist in the future because someone would have been bit by the beaver and sued to the park and it would shut down.
The end
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Oktoberfest 2013 with a sexy man in a dirndl
This past weekend my girlfriend and I, plus four other couples one with an awesome pudgy baby set off for Oktoberfest all crammed in one motor home. Add that up and it's 10 1/2 people all sleeping and getting drunk and pissing and shitting and talking extremely loud farting nasty beer farts and throwing up at different times. It was an adventure for my normally reserved and quiet self.
What this post is really about though is Friday night. A good friend of my girlfriend is this rock climbing, lives in a VW bus, pisses in gallon sized containers absolutely not apple juice has long flowing sexy dirty mountain-man-hair and a beard that makes me weep with jealousy. Ladies...he's single. Yup, he can rope you into his sturdy harness and climb the steepest cliff face with one arm cradling you ever so gently think Tarzan anchor you both in above the clouds and show the world how to bump uglies like a real man totally all my words; I take full responsibility if you are 100% turned off.
So if you've never been to an authentic Oktoberfest, I will quickly break down what attire that's clothing; I know it's an outdated and very tired word a person needs to wear by showing you a picture of an excellent representation of how to make more friends at the festhalle than you'll know what to do with and take more pictures with random people that want your babies and have more dudes approach you than the slutty dressed blonde-haired beer wenches:
We couldn't walk more than a few steps without people wanting a picture with this beast. I think he got the most free drinks any person in history has ever received and all without taking off his dirndl maybe just a few flashes of what's under the dress.
All in all it was a good weekend. Could have got more sleep but I figure that sleep can come when I am dead.
If you support men wearing tight corsets and rocking hairy legs in a dirndl with the biceps to choke out a buffalo, share this with your friends. Let's get this man a woman! Team on three. 1...2...3... TEAM!
What this post is really about though is Friday night. A good friend of my girlfriend is this rock climbing, lives in a VW bus, pisses in gallon sized containers absolutely not apple juice has long flowing sexy dirty mountain-man-hair and a beard that makes me weep with jealousy. Ladies...he's single. Yup, he can rope you into his sturdy harness and climb the steepest cliff face with one arm cradling you ever so gently think Tarzan anchor you both in above the clouds and show the world how to bump uglies like a real man totally all my words; I take full responsibility if you are 100% turned off.
So if you've never been to an authentic Oktoberfest, I will quickly break down what attire that's clothing; I know it's an outdated and very tired word a person needs to wear by showing you a picture of an excellent representation of how to make more friends at the festhalle than you'll know what to do with and take more pictures with random people that want your babies and have more dudes approach you than the slutty dressed blonde-haired beer wenches:
All in all it was a good weekend. Could have got more sleep but I figure that sleep can come when I am dead.
If you support men wearing tight corsets and rocking hairy legs in a dirndl with the biceps to choke out a buffalo, share this with your friends. Let's get this man a woman! Team on three. 1...2...3... TEAM!
Lentil soup smells the same coming out
I might be alone on this one but what the heck. Has anyone ever noticed that lentil soup smells the same coming out as it does going in? I realize that most people don't eat lentil soup (as it's always on sale at the grocery store I go to) or possibly don't even know what lentils are. The best way for me to describe lentil soup, if you don't already know what it is, is to name another delicious soup that turns most people off: I'm talking about split pea soup of course. I love it. Give me baby shit green split pea soup with small chunks of ham any day. I don't care that you think it's disgusting. MORE FOR ME!
Mmmmm split pea soup.
Anyways.
I want you to eat lentil soup (more specifically the Progresso can kind) and report back to me if your next bowel movement smells pretty close to how the pot smelled cooking on the stove.
Sincerely,
Your avid split pea and lentil soup consumer
My lentil soup eating posse. Share this with your friends and let's get the word out there about the joys of these exotic soups!
Mmmmm split pea soup.
Anyways.
I want you to eat lentil soup (more specifically the Progresso can kind) and report back to me if your next bowel movement smells pretty close to how the pot smelled cooking on the stove.
Sincerely,
Your avid split pea and lentil soup consumer
My lentil soup eating posse. Share this with your friends and let's get the word out there about the joys of these exotic soups!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Why the word "deadline" made me stop and think
I came across the word deadline today and I had to pause everything. WAIT! SORRY PEOPLE OF TRADER JOE'S. I thought to myself that the word deadline has very little connection to how we use it. It's one of those words that I wonder where the origin came from. Right? Dead and line together have many combinations. Someone will be dead, if and only if they cross that line. That one I get. Makes sense. A line that is dead could also be a way to interpret it. Although this one is hard to agree with because really, what possibly could a line that is dead really mean? Like, "The line at the grocery store was dead today, so I'll need those papers on my desk by morning." (By the way, do offices use paper anymore? I need to think about this. WAIT!)
Another way I thought about it was that you could see this hypothetical line and on one side of that line you are not dead, and on the other side you are totally dead. More dead than anyone has ever been before or will ever be. So dead, that they'll write an article about you in Time magazine. HA get it? Because time is how we measure life. Because we need a way to remind us that sometimes people die much younger than they deserve but if no one had an age, that guy who died on his prom night might not be remembered as someone who "died too young". Because we need time to put all of life that came before us into perspective. Because in the end, time is much too large for us to really grasp; I mean, think about how long you've been alive. Now multiply that by some stupid number that takes too long to write out all the zeros. Because time just is okay?! Geeeshh
Anyways.
I pictured deadline as an old scene from a western movie where a line is drawn in the sand sort-of-thing. But this also makes little sense when plugged back into the way the word deadline is used today. I don't imagine a task begin assigned and in small print it says, "Oh by the way, cross that line without having what I asked you to complete, and you'll cease to be a person. Go ahead. Try it. I have extra freezer space at home. Also a Costco sized bottle of Tapatio"
What am I doing? What am I even saying?!
But can you see what I'm getting at? Am I using too many euphemisms? I'm sorry. I get sidetracked. All I'm saying is that the word deadline probably means nothing at all what it was originally intended to mean. It first was used in 1864 so it probably originally meant to tie your slave to a line and drag them behind your ship until they drowned. Just a guess though.
Another way I thought about it was that you could see this hypothetical line and on one side of that line you are not dead, and on the other side you are totally dead. More dead than anyone has ever been before or will ever be. So dead, that they'll write an article about you in Time magazine. HA get it? Because time is how we measure life. Because we need a way to remind us that sometimes people die much younger than they deserve but if no one had an age, that guy who died on his prom night might not be remembered as someone who "died too young". Because we need time to put all of life that came before us into perspective. Because in the end, time is much too large for us to really grasp; I mean, think about how long you've been alive. Now multiply that by some stupid number that takes too long to write out all the zeros. Because time just is okay?! Geeeshh
Anyways.
I pictured deadline as an old scene from a western movie where a line is drawn in the sand sort-of-thing. But this also makes little sense when plugged back into the way the word deadline is used today. I don't imagine a task begin assigned and in small print it says, "Oh by the way, cross that line without having what I asked you to complete, and you'll cease to be a person. Go ahead. Try it. I have extra freezer space at home. Also a Costco sized bottle of Tapatio"
What am I doing? What am I even saying?!
But can you see what I'm getting at? Am I using too many euphemisms? I'm sorry. I get sidetracked. All I'm saying is that the word deadline probably means nothing at all what it was originally intended to mean. It first was used in 1864 so it probably originally meant to tie your slave to a line and drag them behind your ship until they drowned. Just a guess though.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
If you rock the car, so will I
Tonight, on the way home from Pho, some college kids in a large old Isuzu pulled up behind me at a stoplight. I watched them in my side mirror rock the SUV back and forth while the driver had the dorkiest smile on his face. They had their windows rolled up and cheering on one another (loud enough to be heard with their windows up AND my windows up AND my music on. So at the next stoplight, I decided to get my girlfriend involved in rocking our car. Needless to say, the kids behind us got excited. It made me think of the time a kid at a party came up to me and said that I could be his friend because we were both drinking Bud Light; a connection between two people need not always be over the top. Simply drinking the same brand of beer can suffice. Anyways, the kids behind us rolled down their windows and began to holler. I looked in the side mirror again and their SUV was rocking side to side.
It made me laugh to see these kids so damn excited about doing this at stoplights. Lesson learned: sometimes it's fun to make some college kids' night.
It made me laugh to see these kids so damn excited about doing this at stoplights. Lesson learned: sometimes it's fun to make some college kids' night.
Dream sequence #5
In my dream,
I remember traveling down a country road in a classic car.
The dashboard was not very bright and all the knobs were chrome.
I remember bouncing in the bench seat every time we went over a bump.
It took me some time to figure out that Taylor Swift was piloting the car and that I had no earthly idea where we were going nor why Taylor Swift was driving.
I have this generic picture in my mind that surfaces whenever I reach a point in a story or novel that describes a country road that winds through a high-desert hillside and we were traveling down this same mental picture.
The trees were dark and I was floating above the car looking down from a home with large windows that sat at the top of the hill.
I could see the tail lights of the car as it past down on the road below and then teleported back to the car with Taylor still at the wheel.
She looked over at me and told me that she was taking me to see her family and some of her friends.
It wasn't until this moment that the impact of her being a celebrity became a thing in this dream; before this moment she was just an attractive woman driving the car with me bobbing up and down in the seat next to her without a seat belt on.
I remember slowly pulling up to this sharp 90° corner in the road and as she began to turn the steering wheel, hand over hand, we skipped the turn and were now walking.
Off to the left was tall grass illuminated by the headlights of the car we just left running.
The scenery became something I remember seeing in Nitro Circus when the guys fixed wings to the dirt bike and tried to get it to fly.
The grass was cut short and straight like a run way with tall grass running parallel on our left side.
We were walking and I remember holding her hand and thinking that I wasn't going to be like any other boyfriend she had.
I would buy my own dinner and pay for the things I wanted to do and not ask her for anything; I thought she would find this noble and want to be with me.
I pictured me working at a fast food joint and being damn proud of dating Taylor Swift but still keeping my job and independence.
We were walking and kids starting showing up all around us.
There was a roaring fire off to our right hand side and down the runway a bit.
Some adult were gathered around it with cans of beer in there hand.
I remember knocking kids down as they ran screaming up to her wanting an autograph.
I became her body guard and thought to myself that this is another way she will see how different I am and thus want to be with me.
I told her that I get how annoying it must be for fans to always want a picture and that I would prevent that as much as possible.
Taylor would giggle at me slamming these kids down all while still holding he hand gently.
The people all disappeared and we were having a picnic in the Arizona desert sun in a small cul-de-sac type outcropping in the shrubbery.
Just me and Taylor swift on a blanket.
I asked her to sing to me and she began to sing a song but it was not her voice.
It was the voice of the singer from Lamb Of God coming from her mouth, and Taylor moving her lips very delicately like she does in her music videos.
The end
I remember traveling down a country road in a classic car.
The dashboard was not very bright and all the knobs were chrome.
I remember bouncing in the bench seat every time we went over a bump.
It took me some time to figure out that Taylor Swift was piloting the car and that I had no earthly idea where we were going nor why Taylor Swift was driving.
I have this generic picture in my mind that surfaces whenever I reach a point in a story or novel that describes a country road that winds through a high-desert hillside and we were traveling down this same mental picture.
The trees were dark and I was floating above the car looking down from a home with large windows that sat at the top of the hill.
I could see the tail lights of the car as it past down on the road below and then teleported back to the car with Taylor still at the wheel.
She looked over at me and told me that she was taking me to see her family and some of her friends.
It wasn't until this moment that the impact of her being a celebrity became a thing in this dream; before this moment she was just an attractive woman driving the car with me bobbing up and down in the seat next to her without a seat belt on.
I remember slowly pulling up to this sharp 90° corner in the road and as she began to turn the steering wheel, hand over hand, we skipped the turn and were now walking.
Off to the left was tall grass illuminated by the headlights of the car we just left running.
The scenery became something I remember seeing in Nitro Circus when the guys fixed wings to the dirt bike and tried to get it to fly.
The grass was cut short and straight like a run way with tall grass running parallel on our left side.
We were walking and I remember holding her hand and thinking that I wasn't going to be like any other boyfriend she had.
I would buy my own dinner and pay for the things I wanted to do and not ask her for anything; I thought she would find this noble and want to be with me.
I pictured me working at a fast food joint and being damn proud of dating Taylor Swift but still keeping my job and independence.
We were walking and kids starting showing up all around us.
There was a roaring fire off to our right hand side and down the runway a bit.
Some adult were gathered around it with cans of beer in there hand.
I remember knocking kids down as they ran screaming up to her wanting an autograph.
I became her body guard and thought to myself that this is another way she will see how different I am and thus want to be with me.
I told her that I get how annoying it must be for fans to always want a picture and that I would prevent that as much as possible.
Taylor would giggle at me slamming these kids down all while still holding he hand gently.
The people all disappeared and we were having a picnic in the Arizona desert sun in a small cul-de-sac type outcropping in the shrubbery.
Just me and Taylor swift on a blanket.
I asked her to sing to me and she began to sing a song but it was not her voice.
It was the voice of the singer from Lamb Of God coming from her mouth, and Taylor moving her lips very delicately like she does in her music videos.
The end
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
My dog needs to see my face in order to shit
Sometimes I wish my dog could talk just so I could yell at him and then afterward explain to him in a calm and parental voice why I would gladly choose any other dog besides the shitty creature I adopted that can't seem to poop in the backyard. I hate how he makes me go stand out next to him in order to take a crap. I know he needs me to poop because I watch him from my window. He will sit forEVER at the gate just looking through. His stupid little dog brain associating the closed gate to his previous owners abandoning him. I have no intent of shutting the door to the yard permanently and just leaving him outside. Like I forgot completely that I have a backyard altogether and when I look out the window from my room, really what I am looking at is just some grass that grows in a space next to the house. But how can I tell him that?
The other day he was outside and I needed to grab something from the shed. Now, I had put him outside earlier because I knew he had to poop but had forgotten he was outside. I opened the gate and walked to the shed and in that brief few steps from the gate to the door, he spun around and headed to the middle of the yard to poop. I came out of the shed and there he was, arched back and pushing. His tail straight out and just piles of crap coming out of him that he'd been saving for days.
At this point you might be asking how I know he has to poop. Well it's quite simple. His tail bounces more and exposes his pink starfish sphincter. Sometimes he has to poop so bad that I see him prairie dogging it. I can actually see him sucking it back in. It often times looks like a fish gasping for air each time he tightens up. HA. This imagery makes me laugh every time. Because of just how DUMB a creature can be. JUST GO SHIT! I SWEAR THINGS WILL BE OKAY! OMG SHIT! PLEASE JUST DO THIS ONE SHITTY THING!
Still, he won't poop without me there. Even when the shit is already pretty much coming out all on its own. His body is telling him to evacuate the chamber but no, he holds firm until he sees my face. Then he can poop in comfort.
He's a miserable thing.
If you like what you see, remember to share it. Like how your mom wants to hook you up with a girl she met at the grocery store...three months back.
The other day he was outside and I needed to grab something from the shed. Now, I had put him outside earlier because I knew he had to poop but had forgotten he was outside. I opened the gate and walked to the shed and in that brief few steps from the gate to the door, he spun around and headed to the middle of the yard to poop. I came out of the shed and there he was, arched back and pushing. His tail straight out and just piles of crap coming out of him that he'd been saving for days.
At this point you might be asking how I know he has to poop. Well it's quite simple. His tail bounces more and exposes his pink starfish sphincter. Sometimes he has to poop so bad that I see him prairie dogging it. I can actually see him sucking it back in. It often times looks like a fish gasping for air each time he tightens up. HA. This imagery makes me laugh every time. Because of just how DUMB a creature can be. JUST GO SHIT! I SWEAR THINGS WILL BE OKAY! OMG SHIT! PLEASE JUST DO THIS ONE SHITTY THING!
Still, he won't poop without me there. Even when the shit is already pretty much coming out all on its own. His body is telling him to evacuate the chamber but no, he holds firm until he sees my face. Then he can poop in comfort.
He's a miserable thing.
If you like what you see, remember to share it. Like how your mom wants to hook you up with a girl she met at the grocery store...three months back.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Black dog. Tongue out. Bike ride and a rabbit
On a bike ride today; dog black and tongue out, I his owner kept a solid pace 'til foam dripping and flicking slung out from each bounce side to side he kept rhythm of heavy but not too heavy breath. The tire tread gripping old road worn out patched and bumpy we jumped curbs dodged squirrels, cats. I, listening to chain bounce slap aluminum; keep balance with leash taut wrapped tight left hand hanging out to my side waiting for him to take up the slack; pull me from the awkward height of a high seat post. We strolled through the park, his muscles firm, becoming seasoned requiring more distance with every trip out so we do this time and time a week each taking the same circle 'round the border of the park until we cross that small bridge over muddy water flooding small creek with tawny clouds creeping. We turned down a new street, the asphalt clicking his nails grinding down with every step we ventured down looking at homes new to remember; new area to explore in a town I've seen nearly all of; an old man with blue overalls blue long sleeve work shirt blue house with blue gutters and blue windows held a bucket of paint in his right hand bent over and painted his home. A new layer being put down to show his favorite color: blue. Lucas not seeing what I see. Riding with one hand on the handle bars wanting desperately to stop the wheels and ask for a picture of this man's smile. He agreeing. Me thinking the whole time of posting it online for thumbs up. Disregarding the usage of an old man; suddenly with surprise being pulled from balance. Lucas, digging for a rabbit on a neighbors lawn. Me gripping the brake tight and preparing to bail ship. The old man still hunched over, oblivious.
The ride home swift. Me pushing. Faster when it needed to be. Slower when a small hill meant hard peddling. Lucas, fine with everything. Happy. Content that he got to move his legs. Wishing that it was raining to cool him down.
Remember, if you like what you see, share it with friends. I don't mind. Requires a mind to mind so I don't.
The ride home swift. Me pushing. Faster when it needed to be. Slower when a small hill meant hard peddling. Lucas, fine with everything. Happy. Content that he got to move his legs. Wishing that it was raining to cool him down.
Remember, if you like what you see, share it with friends. I don't mind. Requires a mind to mind so I don't.
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