it will be horrible,
kissing amid some randomly
historical armor.
your armour,
you lips, my defenses
ellipsed,
lunar eclipse.
scientists
approach our small escapade,
make notes to go home and relate.
we then rise, so we can go on on our
tour.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
getting rid of the memories of someone you obviously care a lot about
A lot of people ask me how I can be so one-dimensional
as to only enjoy one fucking movie, 'The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'
so much so that it is one of my facebook profile pics.
Oh wait, you're too cool to be on Facialbook.
Let me re-arrange.
In fact, let me place a signal, instead.
Since re-arranging has become commonplace,
let me work only off off remixes.
I don't have the original source,
and am ok with that, on this
imagined level.
as to only enjoy one fucking movie, 'The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'
so much so that it is one of my facebook profile pics.
Oh wait, you're too cool to be on Facialbook.
Let me re-arrange.
In fact, let me place a signal, instead.
Since re-arranging has become commonplace,
let me work only off off remixes.
I don't have the original source,
and am ok with that, on this
imagined level.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Haunted Parrot, Chapter 2: Re: Woody Woodpecker
Chapter 1 is here
====
"You're a mean drunk," said the bird. De'Peters had been having a horrible day. All these animals were just...too much.
How the hell did she do it? Sitting there in her little house with all these little pets of hers. How did she care for them all? What was her secret recipe? These were the thoughts that had been circling his head as he sat alone in the dank storeroom at the 14th Precinct with all of the animals he had rescued. Sarge had told him that he had to sit there, make sure none of the 'witnesses' escaped. Of course, it was a very important job, and De'Peters nodded heroically. It was, perhaps, at this remarkable stance of bravery that Sarge had taken some small pity, and slipped De'Peters a pint bottle of whiskey.
This was a big event. De'Peters had not seen too much kindness in his life, so Sarge handing him the drink had been a sign that things were somehow changing. De'Peters was always tuned to this kind of phenomena. He had read a lot of books about what people call 'the subconscious realm', a realm where he could believe She-Ra truly existed, She-Ra would join forces with him, Prince Adam, and they would rule as King and Queen.
Yet, tonight was not a night to get that deep. All he had to do tonight was guard the animals until people from the groups that truly cared about them came along to rescue him. Them. They were coming to rescue the animals, not him.
"You're a 2-bit whore," said the parrot, without sympathy.
De'Peters just laughed. There wasn't anything more this bird could do to him. "Really," he said, swinging the whiskey at the bird's face, "a 2-bit whore? What else you got?"
"I know who's the murderer," said the parrot. "I know him by face, voice and smell."
De'Peters took another swig of whiskey. "Yeah, but you don't know him by touch," he mocked.
"You're a mean drunk," said the parrot.
====
"You're a mean drunk," said the bird. De'Peters had been having a horrible day. All these animals were just...too much.
How the hell did she do it? Sitting there in her little house with all these little pets of hers. How did she care for them all? What was her secret recipe? These were the thoughts that had been circling his head as he sat alone in the dank storeroom at the 14th Precinct with all of the animals he had rescued. Sarge had told him that he had to sit there, make sure none of the 'witnesses' escaped. Of course, it was a very important job, and De'Peters nodded heroically. It was, perhaps, at this remarkable stance of bravery that Sarge had taken some small pity, and slipped De'Peters a pint bottle of whiskey.
This was a big event. De'Peters had not seen too much kindness in his life, so Sarge handing him the drink had been a sign that things were somehow changing. De'Peters was always tuned to this kind of phenomena. He had read a lot of books about what people call 'the subconscious realm', a realm where he could believe She-Ra truly existed, She-Ra would join forces with him, Prince Adam, and they would rule as King and Queen.
Yet, tonight was not a night to get that deep. All he had to do tonight was guard the animals until people from the groups that truly cared about them came along to rescue him. Them. They were coming to rescue the animals, not him.
"You're a 2-bit whore," said the parrot, without sympathy.
De'Peters just laughed. There wasn't anything more this bird could do to him. "Really," he said, swinging the whiskey at the bird's face, "a 2-bit whore? What else you got?"
"I know who's the murderer," said the parrot. "I know him by face, voice and smell."
De'Peters took another swig of whiskey. "Yeah, but you don't know him by touch," he mocked.
"You're a mean drunk," said the parrot.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Haunted Parrot, Chapter 1: Polly Wanna Spectre
A boring door housed a boring lock that was boringly picked. There was no skill required, just a boring pair of hands (his own boring little hands) and the type of hair-pin his boring mother might have used to keep her hair carefully fashioned from his boring little hands that picked so boringly at her boring locks in the boring house with no door. Snap, you say?
There was a scuffle in the middle of the stairs, and then, from the perspective of just one eye, thick red blood. Someone had been cut in the darkness, obviously. Obviously very deeply, given the spurt that was witnessed. Maybe right through an artery. Then, someone had fallen off, around the railing, into the living room below, and clearly died (from the noise of it). It was all a mess, and there was only one eye recording everything. Focusing in, focusing out. Squawk. "Camera time, camera time!"
.
Later on the police came by. It didn't really seem like they knew what had happened, or what was going on. De'Peters, still a rookie, told his Sarge that this woman who lived here was basically obsessed with animals more than anything else. "I mean just take a look around, Sarge," said De'Peters, "Look at all her animals that she has." He dusted a nearby box and then almost jumped out of his pants, for the box, in fact, was housing for a pair of large, strange looking either worms or eels.
"Well, which is it?" said the Sarge.
"The SPCA is gonna have to be involved in this case, Sarge, we'll have to call in the SPCA," said De'Peters. "We gotta make sure none of these little guys just ends up dying here. Look, look -- some of them appear to be very sick." He watched a pair of hummingbirds sadly vibrate in their cage for a few seconds, then desist.
"Ok," said Sarge, and then he walked away from De'Peters and his animals, and went to stand with everyone else who was looking at the human bodies instead.
De'Peters nodded and quietly went about his own work, which seemed to consist of listing all the creatures in the apartment so that PETA or whatever it was could come over and pick us up.
There was a scuffle in the middle of the stairs, and then, from the perspective of just one eye, thick red blood. Someone had been cut in the darkness, obviously. Obviously very deeply, given the spurt that was witnessed. Maybe right through an artery. Then, someone had fallen off, around the railing, into the living room below, and clearly died (from the noise of it). It was all a mess, and there was only one eye recording everything. Focusing in, focusing out. Squawk. "Camera time, camera time!"
.
Later on the police came by. It didn't really seem like they knew what had happened, or what was going on. De'Peters, still a rookie, told his Sarge that this woman who lived here was basically obsessed with animals more than anything else. "I mean just take a look around, Sarge," said De'Peters, "Look at all her animals that she has." He dusted a nearby box and then almost jumped out of his pants, for the box, in fact, was housing for a pair of large, strange looking either worms or eels.
"Well, which is it?" said the Sarge.
"The SPCA is gonna have to be involved in this case, Sarge, we'll have to call in the SPCA," said De'Peters. "We gotta make sure none of these little guys just ends up dying here. Look, look -- some of them appear to be very sick." He watched a pair of hummingbirds sadly vibrate in their cage for a few seconds, then desist.
"Ok," said Sarge, and then he walked away from De'Peters and his animals, and went to stand with everyone else who was looking at the human bodies instead.
De'Peters nodded and quietly went about his own work, which seemed to consist of listing all the creatures in the apartment so that PETA or whatever it was could come over and pick us up.
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